The Godson (6 page)

Aah yes, thought Norton, easing back happily into the lounge. How do the words go to that Louis Armstrong song? ‘And I say to myself, what a wonderful world.' He raised his Kahlualaced
cup of coffee to the TV screen and the players who were now leaving the field.

‘You're not wrong, Satchmo old mate,' he said out loud.

Norton finished his coffee, pottered around the house for a while, then had his usual hour's nap before he got ready for work. Warren still wasn't home when he got up. The pixies have probably taken him away, Les mused. So he ironed his shirt, had a couple of toasted ham sandwiches and was at the Kelly Club around eight-thirty. Billy was standing out the front when he got there.

‘My Deal,' grinned Les, as soon as he saw Billy. ‘Did you get on?'

Billy nodded and returned Norton's grin. ‘Reckon.'

‘It paid $7.70 on the TAB.' Billy nodded again. ‘Between that and our little flutter at the pokies we haven't had a bad day.' Billy winked.

‘But, mate,' enthused Norton, giving his workmate a light punch on the arm, ‘did you see who won the football?'

‘Yes,' replied Billy. ‘And I know someone else who did too.'

Norton laughed and rubbed his hands together. ‘How's his face? Like a tin of condemned bully beef?'

‘Worse.'

‘Good. I'll go up and let the fat cunt know I'm here.'

Whistling cheerfully, Norton disappeared up the stairs two at a time. He was back about five minutes later, still whistling and with two steaming mugs of coffee.

‘Did you see him?' asked Billy Dunne.

‘Sort of,' replied Les. ‘He saw me. Mumbled G'day or something. Then went and hid in the shithouse.'

‘Did you follow him in?'

‘No,' chuckled Norton. ‘I left him in there where he belongs. But I'll stick it up him after work. Don't worry about that.'

The boys sipped their coffee while they nodded to and joked with some of the punters who were starting to arrive. No one stayed out the front long enough to engage them in any great lengths of conversation as the bitter sou'wester whipping up Kelly Street soon put a stop to that. Even the mugs and the drunks didn't want to hang around and argue in the cold for long. These were the sort of nights Les and Billy appreciated more than ever the scarves and gloves that Price had shouted each to wear with their tuxedos.

‘Price is back,' said Billy.

‘Yeah,' nodded Les. ‘I saw him on TV this arvo in the winners' circle when My Deal won.'

‘Wonder what he was doing in Canberra?'

‘Wouldn't have a clue. George didn't know either. He might tell us after work tonight.'

‘Yeah,' nodded Billy. ‘He might.'

Another hour or so passed by and apart from the wind stinging their eyes and making their noses run, the boys were doing it cosy. In fact they wouldn't have minded a bit of a heated argument or even a minor altercation just to liven things up and get their blood pumping. They had just finished another mug of coffee when a beige Rolls Royce turned graciously into Kelly Street, with Eddie at the wheel and a smiling Price at the window.

‘Hello,' said Billy. ‘Here they are now.'

The Rolls came gently to a stop not far from the club and Eddie and Price got out. There were greetings and smiles all round when they saw Les and Billy. Eddie was wearing corduroy jeans and a windcheater, Price had on a light grey suit and blue tie; neither had their jackets done up and although the wind was going through the boys on the door like a knife, Price and Eddie seemed completely oblivious to it.

‘So how was Canberra?' asked Billy.

‘In a word, Billy,' replied Price, ‘fuckin' cold.'

‘Colder than this?' asked Les.

‘You're kidding, Les,' said Eddie. ‘Canberra makes this look like Surfers Paradise.'

‘Jesus, that's where I wouldn't mind being right now,' said Norton, clapping his hands together.

Price and Eddie exchanged surreptitious smiles. ‘You never know, Les,' said Price. ‘I might just have a little something for you after work tonight.'

‘How do you mean?'

Price gave Les a light punch on the shoulder. ‘I'll tell you about it when we knock off. Anyway, I've got to get upstairs and make sure George hasn't robbed me.'

‘I wonder what that was all about?' said Norton, as he watched Eddie and Price disappear up the stairs.

Billy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno,' he said. He made a gesture with his hands. ‘But I imagine we'll find out after work tonight.'

Try as they might, Les and Billy couldn't find anything funny about standing around the front of the club that night and at one am Les made sure their next cups of coffee were well-laced with Jim Beam Black Label. But the cold kept the mugs away and there wasn't so much as a cross word let alone
any fisticuffs all night. So apart from the weather, and with a few bourbon coffees under their belts, Saturday evening went smoother than a Mormon's haircut. However, Les and Billy were still more than pleased when at three-thirty they had the place locked, bolted and barred and were sitting in the warmth of Price's office having an after-work and end-of-week drink.

There was the usual idle chit-chat as the first two rounds of drinks went down. Price and Eddie didn't seem to be saying a great deal. Les and Billy commented on the weather and the money they'd won on the pokies and Price's horse. The big surprise of the night was George Brennan. Having lost the bet to Les and knowing he was in for a ferocious bagging, Les had expected him to have a 25 carat case of the shits. On the contrary, he was all smiles. Les hit him with a couple of barbed sling-offs early in the piece but the fat casino manager wouldn't come in at all — he simply shrugged his shoulders and copped it sweet. This took the wind right out of Norton's sails. So he quietly collected his $100 and his case of beer and even conceded that the Easts try was a fluke and Balmain should have won. Billy Dunne couldn't believe his ears. Eventually though, the small talk about football, racehorses and the weather drifted off and all eyes turned to Price and Eddie. George was the first to swing the subject around to what was on everyone's mind.

‘So,' he said casually. ‘How was the trip to Canberra, Price? Everything go all right?'

‘The trip to Canberra? It was good. Cold. But yes, everything did go all right,' replied Price. He stared at the deafening silence coming from his three trusted employees and exchanged a half smile with Eddie. ‘I suppose you're all wondering what we were up to down there. And why we left in such a hurry?'

‘Well…' George gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulder while Les and Billy tried to look indifferent. But it was patently obvious they were all swarming like bees.

‘Okay.' Price eased back in his padded leather chair. ‘I'll tell you what's going on.' He fixed his gaze on Norton. ‘I would have had to anyway.'

While Eddie got them all another drink, Price told them the reason he and Eddie went to Canberra. He simplified it as much as possible. But he did mention the lunch with O'Malley, the fact that Peregrine was a baronet and the Attorney General's godson. How it was the IRA that were after him and how they were going to hide him on the farm Eddie knew
about in the Tweed Valley for two weeks. Eddie didn't mention what he had done while he was down there.

There was a puzzled, if not slightly amused silence for a moment as what Price had just told them sunk in. Then Billy spoke.

‘Shit!' he said. ‘You had lunch with the Attorney General of Australia?'

‘Yes,' nodded Price. ‘The Right Honourable Laurence O'Malley QC. Hard to imagine a bloke I used to SP with in pubs would finish up Attorney General of Australia, isn't it?' Billy shook his head in amazement.

‘And you're going to hide this Peregrine bloke up the North Coast somewhere for two weeks,' said Les.

‘That's right,' said Price, then he and Eddie exchanged smiles. ‘And that's where you come in, Les me old son.'

‘I come in?'

‘Yeah. Who do you think's going to take Peregrine up to the Tweed Valley and put him under his wing for a fortnight?' Norton blinked as Price motioned his Scotch and soda towards him. ‘You are.'

‘I am?'

‘That's right, Les, you big bouncing bundle of fun. You are.'

Norton stared at Price for a moment. ‘Hey, hang on a sec,' he said guardedly.

Price gazed around the room at the bemused looks the others were now giving Les. ‘Will you listen to this prick? He was whingeing about the cold out the front earlier. I offer him a trip up the North Coast to sit on his arse for two weeks in the sun and do nothing, and he's blowing up. Can you believe it?'

Norton made a defensive gesture with his hands. ‘Wait on, Price. I didn't mean it like that. You just caught me off guard, that's all.' He shrugged and took a sip of Fourex. ‘Sounds like a piece of piss, to tell you the truth. What do you want me to do?'

‘Right.' Eddie placed a folded sheet of paper on Price's desk. ‘That's where you're going. That's the address of the farm and how you get there.'

Norton reached across for the map just as Price dropped a large envelope on the desk. ‘There's a photo of Peregrine. And five thousand in cash which should be more than enough for a two-week holiday. But,' he added, ‘anything he wants, you get him. There's also the address of a car dealer I know
out at Tempe. Go out there Monday and pick out any car you want for the trip. It's all sweet.'

Norton dropped the map and picked up the photo of Peregrine Normanhurst. It was a little out of focus and taken from across the street: three casually dressed young men sitting on the bonnet of a Daimler drinking a bottle of champagne. ‘Which is him?' he asked.

‘The one on the right,' replied Price.

Norton stared at the photo. All he could make out was that the person in question was of medium build and had fair hair. ‘It's not much of a photo,' he complained.

‘You'll see him on Sunday,' said Price. ‘You won't be able to miss him. He arrives on British Airways flight 389 at 3.30 in the afternoon. Pick him up and keep him at your place till Tuesday. Then you can both piss off.'

While Price and the others watched him with slight amusement, Norton studied the photo of Peregrine and the other items on Price's desk. ‘I don't believe this,' he said, shaking his head. ‘It's like that bloody show on TV, “Mission Impossible”. This is your assignment, Mr Phelps. Should you choose to accept it. This photo will self destruct in five seconds. If you are caught the agency will deny any knowledge of your existence.' He shook his head again.

‘If I was you, you big red-headed goose,' said George, ‘I'd cop it sweet. Two weeks in the sun. You've killed them.'

‘Reckon,' added Billy. ‘I wish it was me that was going.'

‘Yeah, I suppose you're right,' smiled Les. ‘A couple of weeks out of the cold in the peace and quiet. And all I got to do is put up with this Sloane Ranger. There's no way those Irish are going to follow him all the way out to Australia. They'd never find him anyway.'

‘Hey,' said Eddie seriously. ‘Never underestimate the Irish. It was a paddy taught me how to make letter bombs. And they love to get square.'

‘Yeah, fair enough,' answered Les. ‘But you know what I mean. There's about one chance in a million of anything going wrong. It's just a glorified holiday.'

‘That's right,' said Price. ‘And I'm bloody paying for it.'

Norton held up the envelope full of money and grinned. ‘Right on. I reckon me and Peregrine'll give this five grand some hurry up. I hope there's a TAB and a massage parlour in this Tweed Valley. Any good restaurants up there, Eddie?'

‘Hey,' said Price, emphasising the point with his finger. ‘You just make sure you look after this rooster while you've got
him up there. And while he's down here keep him very low profile; we don't want anyone to know he's in the country. It's more than likely nothing's going to happen. But like Eddie said, don't underestimate these people.'

‘Yeah, fair enough,' said Les. ‘I was only joking. I'll keep him under wraps at my place till Tuesday, then we'll be on our way.' Norton put down the money and picked up the photo of Peregrine and his friends. ‘What sort of a bloke is he, anyway? You any idea? You said he was filthy rich.'

They sat there talking and drinking for a while longer. Price couldn't tell Les anymore than what O'Malley had told him. But he did reiterate that back in England, Peregrine was in a lot more bother than he had realised. At around four, they locked up the club and turned out the lights. Les said goodbye, telling Price he'd ring him as soon as he had Peregrine in his house. Then with his case of Fourex tucked up under his arm he and Billy walked up to their cars, and that was another week over at The Kelly Club, though, for Les, it was a little more interesting and ended up a better result than some others.

A
LTHOUGH IT WAS
quite sunny, Sunday still had a pronounced chill in the air. The sou'wester was keeping the temperature down but it was the kind of day that if you found a spot out of the wind it could be quite pleasant. Norton's kitchen wasn't too bad at all. The winter sun was streaming through the window where Warren, who had been up about half an hour before Les, had prepared a big breakfast of bacon and eggs and hash browns for them both. Now he was sitting back sipping coffee and listening avidly while Les told him about the house guest they would be having for the next couple of days. Being a man of good taste himself, Warren was more than looking forward to it.

‘This Peregrine sounds like he might be a pretty interesting sort of a bloke,' said Warren, smearing another slice of toast with blackberry jam. ‘Shit eh? To think we'll be having a member of the Royal Family staying at Maison Norton for two days. That is a turn up for the books.'