The Day of the Gecko (15 page)

The major stopped at the bottom and looked at Les. ‘These aren't the steps you were talking about, are they?' he said.

Norton shook his head.‘No, we've got about a kilometre to go yet.'

‘Oh, good then. Okay, after you, Les.'

Norton trotted up the steps with the major one step behind him. They followed the cliff path to the next set of steps that led up to Mackenzies Point, climbed those easily, marched down to Mackenzies Bay, past Tamarama Surf Club, then crossed Pacific Avenue into Tamarama Park. Norton was puffing a little and he had a good sweat up when they stopped where the concrete path ended, under the trees, alongside the old sandstone wall and where the steps zig-zagged at first, then wound up to the comer of Cross and Birrell Streets.

‘How do they look, Major?' he asked.

The major looked up at the long, steep set of steps, glanced around at the surrounding houses and flats above Tamarama Gully, and smiled at Les. ‘These will do just fine, Les. An excellent choice, lad.'

‘Good.'

The major smiled at Les again. ‘You ready then?'

Les nodded.

‘Well, come on. Let's go.'

The major certainly didn't take the steps like a cute little gecko lizard. He went up them in a crawling sort of sprint like a big goanna. It was uncanny and, besides that, Les didn't think anyone could move so fast. Les was taking the steps two and three at a time just to keep up with him. How long it took to reach the top, Norton didn't know. He was too busy sucking air into his lungs and hoping his leg muscles wouldn't burst when they did. The major's chest was heaving when Les arrived next to him. But his breathing was steady, his face was lit up and he was still full of beans.

‘Well, that was good, Les. I enjoyed that.'

‘I'm glad you did,' puffed Les. ‘My ring's hanging out. You sure took me by surprise.'

The Gecko smiled. ‘Come on, let's go down and see if we can do it again.'

‘Sure. Why not,' said Les.

‘But going back, we do it my way, Les.'

Norton was looking forward to the trot down the stairs. It would be a chance to get his breath back, now he knew more or less what to expect. Except the major went down backwards. Les tried to get in step and it was horrible. It was as if someone was dragging him backwards, down some crazy ladder that went everywhere. Les bounced off the walls, the rails, and fell on his arse twice before he caught up with the major waiting at the bottom of the steps. Les had time to arrive, take a gulp of air and figure out which muscles were
going which way when The Gecko smiled and pointed back up the steps.

‘Are you right for another one, lad?'

‘Sure,' heaved Norton. ‘Why not. After all, I'm here to look after you, aren't I?'

‘I know, Les,' smiled The Gecko. ‘I think that's probably why I feel so good.'

Ten times The Gecko took Les up the steps and back. By giving it everything he had, Les was able to reach the top, four or five steps behind him. But coming down was a mess. Norton thought he had the gist of it a couple of times before he'd either go on his arse or almost break an ankle. When he'd reach the bottom, he'd find the major waiting with his breath back, ready to go again. The major didn't actually race Les, or deliberately try to humiliate him. He just casually and cunningly managed to make him look like a big wally. Les came blundering backwards down the stairs for the last time, gasped in some air and rested his hands on his knees.

‘Well, that's ten times, Major,' he panted. ‘How many more you want to do? I'll admit it, mate. I'm rooted.'

‘No. That was a good workout,' conceded The Gecko. He was puffing almost as much as Les and it was obvious he'd had a good hit-out too. ‘We both went well.'

‘I'm half a chance of going up with you,' said Les. ‘But coming down, you make me look like I
should
be pushing a float in the Mardi Gras.'

The Gecko smiled. ‘You should try it more often, Les. It's good for your co-ordination.' The major
stretched his arms out. ‘Come on, lad. Let's head back to the flat. Apart from all the bloody dog shit everywhere, I rather enjoyed that walk around the cliffs.'

Les fell into step with the major and sweated along. He was able to keep up all right, except his leg muscles were all over the place. That backwards down the stairs threw him right out. Just goes to show, mused Les as they marched past Tamarama Surf Club, you think you know everything. And you know bloody nothing. Yes, sir, Major. You sure do never cease to amaze.

Back at the flat, it wasn't quite a race, but they both dived into the fridge pretty smartly and drank all the cold water Susie had in the filtered container. Les refilled it and suggested once again to the major that if he wanted to use the bathroom he would get cleaned up in the en suite. The major agreed and got out of his sweat-soaked T-shirt. After having a shower, Les changed into a pair of Levi shorts and a white Banana Republic T-shirt he'd bought in Hawaii and was staring into the mirror. What he was mostly looking at was his aching, throbbing legs; mainly his thigh muscles. All he kept relating to was Wiley Coyote in ‘The Bugs Bunny Show', when he swallows a whole jar of ‘leg muscle pills' and his thighs swell up like a minidinosaur. That was how Les felt. The major's idea of a walk was something Norton wouldn't forget in a while. Walking or jogging backwards was tricky enough at the best of times, but sprinting backwards down the Birrell Street steps was something else again. Then just like Wiley Coyote, when the light bulb switches on over his head and he gets some sort of crazy idea, Norton's eyes narrowed and he got that
same stupid half-smile on his face also. He'd go back to those steps and get it all together. Then he'd invite Billy Dunne for a quiet jog and see how he went. The light bulb went out over Norton's head and he walked slowly out to the kitchen to find the major in a pair of shorts and a white singlet, with a glass of water in his hand, flicking through the
Herald
. He looked up as Norton entered.

‘I might go out and have a read on the sundeck for a while,' he said.

‘Okay, Garrick,' answered Les. ‘I'll do a bit more taping. You want to have a bit of lunch later on?'

‘Yeah,' nodded the major, ‘that sounds good.'

There was a kind of old lounge chair on the second sundeck and a small table. The Gecko took both papers and his glass of water out there, sat down and started reading. Les poured himself another glass of water too, then went into the lounge room and began flicking through Susie's CDs again. He put five in the stacker, placed the headphones on and gingerly sat down on one of the padded footstools. Les was starting to feel good after the workout; except that every time he bent his knees, he thought his thigh muscles were going to burst and spray ligaments, sinew and blood vessels all over the walls.

None the less, Norton was enjoying himself, tapping his feet and nodding his head to the music, as he finished the tape from the day before and started on another one. He'd taped plenty of tracks that caught his fancy: ‘Evening Sun' by Ronnie Earl and The Broadcasters, ‘Baby, Please Don't Lie To Me' by Mike Morgan and The Crawl and was tossing up whether to
tape an unfamiliar version of an old soul number, ‘Hold On, I'm Coming' by Solomon Bourke, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Les took the headphones off and looked up. The Gecko was either smiling down at him or he wasn't; Norton couldn't tell which.

‘Les, give me about four or five minutes, then come out onto the sundeck.'

After all the non-stop rock 'n' roll through the headphones, Les wasn't quite sure what he said. ‘Sorry, Major. What was that again?'

‘Give me about five minutes,' repeated The Gecko, ‘then come out onto the sundeck.'

‘Yeah, righto,' replied Les absently, as the major turned and went back out to where he'd been sitting.

Norton glanced at his watch, looked at the CD cover he was holding and decided to tape Solomon Bourke while he pondered what the major was on about. Maybe he'd found some sheila sunbaking in the nude on another sundeck or something. Norton got the track down, removed the headphones and walked out onto the sundeck. The Gecko was seated facing Hall Street. Norton leaned back against the balcony and looked over at him.

‘So what's—?'

‘Les!' The Gecko beamed up. ‘How are you?'

Norton gave him a bit of a double blink. ‘I'm good. Yeah, terrific.'

‘Come over here, Les. Squat down on my right, as if I'm about to read you something out of the newspaper.'

‘Yeah, righto,' shrugged Norton. He walked over and squatted a little painfully down next to the major.

The major ran his finger across the page, then turned
and smiled at Norton. ‘Les, did you know this block of flats was under surveillance?'

‘What!?'

‘Don't start looking around,' said the major quietly, turning back to his newspaper. ‘Just look at where I'm pointing in the paper. Laugh. Pat me on the back. Then go back to where you were standing.'

‘Sure,' replied Norton, just as quietly. He waited a moment or two, tossed back his head and laughed, then did exactly as the major said.

Susie's second sundeck wasn't very big so, although the major was looking into the newspaper as he spoke, he didn't have to talk very loud to make himself heard.

‘Behind you on your right, Les, there's a block of units. Glass rails on the balconies. Double white roller-door out the front. The window on the end, second flat up on the left. Turn around, look up and down the street a bit, then tell me if you can spot anything. Say something to me first.'

‘All right.' Les pointed at the major and laughed again. ‘That thing in the paper,' he adlibbed, ‘cracked me right up.'

Norton shook his head, turned around and rested his hands on the balcony. He stared into the garden, looked down Hall Street, watched a couple of cars go past, then let his eyes drift over the surrounding blocks of units and houses and the flat the major had mentioned. Next to the sundeck, a white curtain flickered behind a sliding glass door. In the left comer you could just make out a slight reflection and a narrow, dark shape. Les gobbed into the garden, scratched his balls casually then turned back around.

‘There's something in the front window,' he said.

‘Mmmhh,' answered the major, turning the page without looking up. ‘Someone up there has got a telephoto lens trained on this block of units. I think it's ASIO.'

‘ASIO!!?'

‘Keep your voice down, Les. Yes, I've got a feeling. I also think I saw your two Russian fishermen, too. A big, florid sort of bloke, and a younger, leaner one, wearing grey tracksuits.'

‘Yeah, that's them.'

The major turned another page. ‘They left about forty minutes ago. That old bloke was sitting out the front. He said something nasty to them in Russian then went back inside.' The major looked up at Les and sort of smiled. ‘What was it you thought he said to them again, Les?'

Norton shrugged. ‘He called them Chechibi or Caechibi bastards or something.'

‘You don't think he might have been calling them KGB bastards, do you, Les?'

‘Shit!' Les gave the major another double blink. ‘I never really thought of that.'

‘Mmmhh.' The Gecko went back to his paper and turned another page. ‘There's something a little fishy, besides those two Russians, going on here, Les. In the meantime, why don't you jokingly pat me on the shoulder again as you walk past. And go back in the lounge and continue with your taping. I'll keep an eye on things out here for a while then we might go and have a bite to eat somewhere.'

‘Yeah, righto,' said Les, sounding more than a little
mystified. He gave it a moment or two, then did exactly as he was told and went back in the lounge room.

Well, isn't that a nice turn-up for the books, thought Les as he continued with his taping. According to him, ASIO's watching the place. And I suppose he ought to know. I don't know about those other two being in the KGB. I think that's making the cup of tea a bit too strong. But if he's right about the other, what the hell are they doing watching this block of flats for? Surely it's not Susie and all her CDs. She's not smuggling microfilm or CD-Roms or something? Maybe that was her contact at the airport. I only got a glimpse, but he looked middle-eastern. Side Valve, a spy? Les shook his head. Hardly. A bit shifty maybe, but that's about all. Maybe it's Ackerley? The mysterious disappearing boarder, with his Star Trek posters and his books about the fourth dimension. He's a mad scientist. A time traveller. That cheap wardrobe in his room is really the Tardis and that's where he's hiding. Despite the levity, Les suddenly felt a little uneasy for a moment. What if ASIO are watching the major? No. Les shook his head again. If they were, he'd have told me. Or on the other hand he wouldn't have said anything at all. For a few more moments the gravity of what Les and The Gecko were up to flashed through Norton's mind. There was a chance things could go wrong. Very bloody wrong.

Les found another track he liked and taped it. ‘Down Home' by Marty Stuart. While it was playing he tried, if not to see the funny side of things, at least the cynical side. Who did I say the major thought he was? Frederick Forsyth? No, it's John Le Carre. First we've
got ASIO and the KGB. Next'll be the CIA and MI5. How about the Mafia? No, a Columbian drug cartel. What about the Russian Mafia? That's what those two fishermen are. Russian Mafia dons. They look more like Laurel and bloody Hardy. Boris and Igor. Les smiled thinly. That's what I'll nickname them. I'll call the big bloke Boris and the young one Igor. They're a couple of good Russian names, aren't they? Les finished the Marty Stuart track and still wasn't sure whether to start laughing or crying when he felt another tap on his shoulder. Les saw it was the major again and went to take the headphones off.