CHOGM Pt. 02

The fish arrived in a flurry of tyre smoke and the sound of an over revving motor. Nothing subtle about the entrance.

13

"I don't know what your friends are playing at," The American accent winged its way electronically from Langley to London, "They have succeeded in making the local talent look like a bunch of incompetent fools and totally stuffing up any chance we have had to get to them, while at the same time starting something of a gang war amongst the organised gangs around the place."

"Where does that leave you now?"

"Let me tell you where that leaves us and I don't give a diddly squat what you think of it, but we will not be able to make the hit ourselves unless we can get some more co-operation from the local police and ASIO, unless we can use our Italian friends, who now have an axe to grind themselves, to do it for us."

"Don't bother me with the details, just do it."

"Getting a little tetchy aren't we Buddy."

"I have enough difficulty in understanding your accent as it is without you lapsing into that horrible idiom. I want results so that I won't have to have anything to do with you ever again. How you go about it is no concern of mine."

"Shit! First you tell us you don't want us to do it our way and now you couldn't care less how it's done. Make up your fucking mind will you." He found himself talking into a disconnected phone.

Dialling another number he was soon talking to his contact in Sydney. "New instructions. Our Limey friends no longer care how the job is done as long as it is done."

"This is more like it." The enthusiasm was reflected by the sparkle in the eye of the sartorially elegant man at the other end. "I'm going to enjoy this." He turned to his companion. "All systems are go."

"Great! I have waited years for this opportunity." The voice conjured up a picture of misty valleys where smoke from the still fires mingled with the mists that rose from the valley floor, of the inhabitants of the rough wooden dwellings eking a precarious existence hunting possums and squirrels for their meat and fur to supplement the money they made selling the potent bourbon for which the Tennessee mountains were famous.

The nearest the owner of the voice had come to Tennessee was the days spent watching Deliverance at his local cinema in Texas. He reasoned that by affecting the voice and mannerisms of that area his colleagues would assume that he had the skills and inherent cruelty of the mountain men he emulated.

His dossier reflected this assumption and he used every opportunity to re-enforce it by the cold blooded manner in which he stalked and killed his prey.

"Don't get too excited. We have to find some way of doing this so that someone else is blamed for it."

14

"Hey man that's some set of wheels you've got there." Jerry looked up and saw himself four times reflect in the mirrored lenses of dark glasses worn by the two dark suited men standing over him. "You must have spent a lot of bread getting that to go so quick. It's not as good as ours ya know, but still quick enough. We ain't seen you around before, you must be new in town."

"You could say that."

"Why would you want a car like that?"

"I figure that from time to time I might have to make a run for it."

"What do you do for a living?"

"What's with all the questions?"

"Well, if you should be looking for a job I might be able to help you out."

"I guess if the right job came along I'd be interested."

"Put it this way. My boss sent me to look for you. He thinks that maybe you know the whereabouts of certain property that went missing from one of his businesses last night. Now if you were to do some work for him he might not dob you in to the police."

"And the property?"

"He'd want that back of course."

"You tell your boss that I fully intend to keep any property that I have, whether it used to belong to him or not. If he wants me to work for him it will have to be on top of that, a sort of advance against future earnings."

"I'm not going to argue with you. My job is just to sound you out, any negotiations will be done by the boss."

"How do I contact your boss?"

"You don't. Be at this address at eight o'clock sharp tonight." He handed Jerry a slip of paper with the address of a warehouse in Pyrmont on it.

"Alright, but if your boss isn't there right on the dot of eight I'm out of there so fast you wouldn't even be able to catch me in that jumped up Volkswagen you drive."

"Hey man, don't say nuthin' about our wheels. It'll blow yours away any day." He had struck a sore point, they were proud of their car and it was obvious that they hadn't had any serious rivals for their pride and joy.

"I doubt it, but keep dreaming. I would have thought that if you wanted a flash sports car you would have chosen a Ferrari, it being Italian and all. Or maybe you feel more at home in one of those Monaro things with the nodding dog and the bobble fringe in the back window."

The men muttered some inaudible profanities as they got into the car and drove off at high speed towards the city.

Jerry waited several minutes before driving off down Mona Vale Road towards the Pacific Highway. He had noticed that there was another car that seemed to be interested in him. It had been parked a hundred metres from where he and the two Italians had their conversation and as soon as Jerry had moved off they followed him.

Jerry ducked and weaved his way through several side streets to confirm how serious they were in tailing him, before heading for the intersection of Mona Vale Road and the Pacific Highway.

He approached on a green and slowed to wait for the amber before dropping back into second and accelerating up the hill towards Pymble.

The other car ran the red and created havoc as it slewed sideways through the intersection. The car was what was known as a cafe racer. Low to the ground, fancy paint work and massive wide wheels, it looked purposeful, was very quick in a straight line, spectacular but more than a little unsafe on corners. The lack of down force on the contact surfaces of the tyres negated any advantage of having a lot of rubber on the road leaving the driver to cope with spinning wheels and fishtail slides out of corners.

Jerry turned off the Highway at Telegraph Road and headed back towards St Ives. The other car followed at a safe distance, not moving closer than a hundred metres unless Jerry was approaching an intersection which would take him away from the main road. He trickled along at just above the speed limit knowing that if a policeman pulled him over he could claim speedometer error and get away with it unless the policeman looked under the bonnet.

The other car followed him past the Police Driving School and onto the long straight that led to Forest Way and back to the city. Jerry debated whether to take that route or continue straight ahead towards the beach. The others obviously had the same thoughts as they closed up to within six car lengths of the Triumph. Jerry drove straight on. The others dropped back to take up station a hundred metres behind him.

After clearing Terry Hills Jerry put his foot down and the Triumph immediately responded, the speedo climbing rapidly to 160 Kilometres per hour as he swung onto the straight leading to Tumbledown Dick. Here he really gave the car its head. The speedo gave up the ghost at 230 kph but the car still had some performance to come, if needed.

Up the hill past the Baha'i temple Jerry had pulled away to a hundred and fifty metre lead so he slowed down so that they didn't miss his turn into Powderworks Road before he once more accelerated away from them. The hours spent driving around checking the lie of the land was about to pay dividends.

The other car kept in touch past the Elanora Country Club where they acquired a following. The Commodore with the flashing blue light tried in vain to keep up with them as first Jerry and then the others turned right into Kalang Road. This was where Jerry was about to lose his tail. The Triumph clawed its way through the series of downhill hairpins that marked its path as it fell down the steep slope to Narrabeen Lakes.

There was a shrill scream of tortured tyres followed by the sound of smashing glass and collapsing metal as the other car slammed off the road into the side of the hill on one of the hairpins. The wail of the police siren stopped as the police car reached the scene of the accident and Jerry heard the call for assistance go out on the emergency frequency. He also heard the call for all available units to look out for the other car in the chase. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that there was no description of the vehicle.

Jerry slowed down knowing that as long as he didn't do anything silly he was safe. The police would be on the lookout for a speeding car.

Jerry's arrival back at the hotel coincided with the changing of the guard. His appearance on the scene was greeted with the now customary look of consternation on the faces of the watchers. He took the lift to his floor and strolled unconcernedly past the repairman who was still carrying out his non-existent repairs. He was greeted by the others and the news that they had decided to abandon the high profile presence at the hotel and go to ground somewhere. The time for cat and mouse being over.

The choice of places that they could use was limited by the need for secrecy. They could not rent a flat in their own names and they didn't have any ID in any other names, yet.

"Why don't you use my place? It's in an ideal location, the others don't know that you know where it is so if we get you there without being followed it will make an ideal base of operations." Jenny offered.

"And you can stay with me." Russell didn't miss a trick.

"Oh? I was planning to stay with my parents."

""Why, don't you trust me?" Russell's disappointment hung thick in the air.

"About as far as I can kick you. Of course I'll stay with you silly."

Plans were put into action. As they strolled past the repairman they just happened to mention that they would enjoy their trip to New Zealand "I here there's a place called Christchurch that's a lot like England." Burroughs commented.

Russell and Jenny left together but separated in the foyer. Russell collected the Triumph from the garage while Jenny extracted the MG from where it was parked at the front of the hotel.

When the cab was clear of the hotel and potential tails Burroughs announced to the driver that they were not going to the airport after all and asked that he drive them to the Woolloomooloo docks. Here they were met by Russell and Jenny.

"Hey, when you guys go back to the old country would it be possible for me to inherit this car?"

"Why would you want something as old as this? I would have thought that someone as ambitious as you would aspire to something a tad more recent."

"True, that is if I was your normal ambitious young man, which I'm proud to say I'm not. This car appeals to my conservative sense of the ridiculous. It gives the air of respectability and slightly down at heel wealth while retaining a certain loyalty to the marque. It says 'I don't have to prove anything' without having anything to prove. It is comfortable yet quick, reliable, at home pottering around the leafy suburbs yet equally at home loping along country roads. Most of all it has atmosphere and of course the most compelling reason is that Jenny is in love with it."

"How can she be in love with it? She's never been in it."

"She loves fast cars, hence the MG, and this in undeniably quick. I have told her a little of its pedigree and it impresses her, you see her father was one of the few hardy souls who actually owned a P76 Targa Florio V8 when they first came on the market and he always impressed on her that they were probably the most maligned and under-rated cars ever produced in this country. In fact, he was negotiating to buy one of the Force 7 Coupes when the company went out of business leaving his hopes dashed and his order unfilled. As well as that she has liked Triumphs for years, except for a short period after she had fallen in love with some clown who owned a TR3A. It turned out that while she was in love with him and liked his car, he got it ballsed up. He was more in love with his car and only liked her. Realising she couldn't compete with it she left. It was some time before she forgave the car, after all it hadn't asked for the stupid twit's love.

"After all that, the combination of the Triumph's panache and the brute strength of the P76 motor has her weak at the knees. But it doesn't quite suit her image while the MG does. But then it doesn't hurt her image too much to have a boyfriend who owns something like this."

"Well argued sir. I am sure that my friends and I would be only too pleased to contribute to your future happiness."

"God, can't he sound like a pompous ass when he wants to." The observation came from Jerry in the back seat. "If we give it to you, I want you to promise to treat her with the utmost respect."

"Who, Jenny?"

"No you berk, the car."

The two cars ran down Raglan Street following it around to the left at the fork with Musgrave Street and along to where Jenny's flat overlooked the harbour and, more importantly, the Musgrave Street wharf,

It was this view of the harbour that provided the backdrop for the conference that took place around, on one side a rather pleasant Hunter Valley Rhine Riesling and on the other hand mineral water.

After deciding that Russell should lease a flat for the others to use the talk turned to Jerry's activities. "I've got a meet with the boss of one of the syndicates this evening at 8.00. It is in a difficult position to stake out so I thought that I should go in wired for sound. Can you lay your hands on a miniature transmitter at short notice?"

"Probably. What range will you be looking at?"

"Jenny, do you have a street directory?"

"There's one in the car, I'll get it for you."

While she was gone Burroughs said to Russell, "There's no way that we can allow you two to get involved in the evening's operation."

"But if you don't I won't lend you my transmitter."

"You've got a miniature transmitter?"

"Sure, there are times when I'm interviewing someone and they are toey about me taking notes, I use it to transmit to a voice activated recorder in the car I'm using. It's not strictly kosher and the information is used with discretion and if I'm asked, I plead a photographic memory. No one has ever put it to the test."

"Good man, can we borrow it?"

"Sure but you can guess the conditions."

"OK. But remember, you have to keep right out of the way. If things go wrong here, and that's a distinct possibility, I don't want to have to be worrying about you, alright?!

"What's the plan?" Jenny had returned with the directory.

"We can't let you get involved in this." Burroughs was adamant. "It is likely to be dangerous."

"Hey come on! I'm a big girl, I can look after myself, after all I've survived in the modelling business for three years now."

"This is likely to be a bit more deadly than the bitching and backstabbing that you're used to. These guys play for keeps. I don't want you to be near the place."

"What place?"

"Warehouse at Pyrmont."

"I heard something about a transmitter just now. Am I to assume that when Jerry goes in he'll be wired for sound?"

"Look at what watching too much television does to the minds of the youth of today, she's got the jargon down pat."

"If you're using a transmitter Russell and I can monitor if from near the White Bay container terminal. That's just over the bay from Pyrmont but close enough to receive transmissions from a moderate range transmitter."

"How do you know all this?"

"I've got a young brother who is into electronics. He just about got expelled from his high school after he bugged the Staff Room and recorded the teachers' conversations. I'm sure that Russell and I could find a way of being inconspicuous." She gave Russell a glance that told him in no uncertain terms the method she planned to use. The MG might prove a little cramped, but it would have to do.

"OK you win. I'm not going to argue with you. Now when can we get the transmitter and recorder?"

"No time like the present. " Russell picked up the phone and contacted Brian Thompson and filled him in on the latest developments as well as putting in a request for the necessary equipment.

Jenny and Russell left to pick up the gear and get some food for Russell's flat now that he wouldn't be living his normal bachelor's existence for the next day or two. Russell would have preferred to eat out but Jenny wouldn't hear of it.

She almost had second thoughts when she saw the condition of Russell's flat, but on closer inspection she found it to more untidy than dirty, and half an hour's combined effort had it in a liveable condition. The sleeping arrangements were of necessity very cosy. Russell's three quarter sized bed was only just wide enough for both of them. Russell did make a half hearted suggestion that he would use the couch and his relief when Jenny refused the suggestion was profound.

At around seven they returned to Jenny's flat with the transmitter. The recorder had been secreted in the glove box of the MG, and a cursory glance would have identified as a small recorder similar to the ones used by university students to record lecture notes. It was set for the same little used frequency as the transmitter, and a quick trial showed them that, not only did the system work but there was no other traffic on that frequency. All was in readiness.

15

The rusty iron buildings of Pyrmont took on an even redder appearance under the westering sun as it slowly sank in the haze and smog of Sydney's industrial west. No matter how often it rained, the garbage that issued forth from the many inner Western Suburbs chimneys created an almost impossible blanket that filtered the normally blood red summer sun and smudged it a dirty brown. In the corrugated iron canyons between the buildings, the sun had set some time before. There was only reflected rays of it to light the way.

Jerry drove slowly down a narrow lane between the warehouse buildings, his senses working overtime. He knew that if the situation got out of control, he would find it difficult to run the gauntlet, and almost impossible to stay and wait for the cavalry to arrive.

The door to the warehouse where the meeting was to take place was in the western wall and until the sun actually set, anyone entering would be covered by the glare and it would be difficult for him to see who it was unless he could find a more advantageous position. He drove the car between tall rows of crates until he found a position more to his liking. The others would have to come right into the building to see him and, with a bit of luck, if things did become messy, he could outrun them to the door.

The sweep second hand of his watch was entering the last quarter lap of the dial when a Holden Statesman throbbed into the building. The heavily tinted windows made it impossible for him to see the occupants. "We're up and running." The whisper was heard across the water by the couple locked together in the MG. The hazard lights flashed three times as if the switch was accidentally bumped.

The signal was picked up by the fisherman who was trying hard to entice the fish to bite on the empty hook that dangled a couple of metres below the surface of the murky water. It just wouldn't do to take the chance of actually catching something under the circumstances.

The Statesman inched towards where Jerry waited. It stopped a good thirty metres away and two large men got out. They walked around the building before returning to the car. It once more moved slowly forward, coming to a halt beside the Triumph. The electrically operated window hissed into the door panel and Jerry could just make out the glow of a cigar in the back seat.