The Boys from Binjiwunyawunya Read online

  ‘But... but,’ protested Frank, ‘he was only standing there having a drink two minutes ago. How can he be dead?’

  The sister, now keen to get back to her drinking shrugged and made a helpless gesture with her hands. ‘It looks like he’s had a heart attack. Or a massive stroke.’ She looked down at Kilby. ‘Or both.’

  Frank’s mind was immediately filled with confusion and dread. Percy. Dead. He couldn’t come to grips with it. Not as quickly as that. His eyes darted towards the other end of the bar. What about that bloody Norton? Could he have something to do with this? No. He was standing on the other side of the room. Besides. Perce had been sick the last few days. Very sick. The poor bastard was dying and didn’t even know it. And he thought all he had was the bloody flu. In the surrounding silence, broken only by the distant clunk of someone playing a poker machine, Frank stared down at his late boss. Before she went back to her table, the sister had closed Percy’s eyes and now he looked like he was in a deep restful sleep. Even the smile was still on his face. The next thing, Frank felt a tug at his elbow.

  ‘Hey Frank. You got a minute?’ said Norton.

  Frank didn’t know what to do when he turned around and saw Les. Immediately he was filled with hatred and fear. Yet at the same time his boss had just collapsed dead at his feet making him a hotbed of helpless grief and confusion. He glared grimly at Norton, completely speechless.

  ‘Well Frank old mate,’ said Norton, giving his overnight bag a tap. ‘Looks like all bets are off. Sorry about your boss. But that’s the way it goes.’

  Norton paused to run his eyes across Frank’s mates, who were glaring at him over the small crowd gathered around the prostrate Percy Kilby. The looks on their faces weren’t at all friendly and they appeared to be edging towards him. Norton ran his eyes over them again, then turned back to Frank and looked him right in the eye.

  ‘Now Frank, I’ll give you some real good fuckin’ advice. Firstly, don’t you or any of your boofheaded mates get any ideas of following me out of the club for a square up and to try and get this money. We’ve got two blokes with guns waiting outside and they won’t think twice about blowing you and the rest of them to bits. You got that?’

  Frank nodded briefly.

  ‘Good. Now secondly.’ Norton nodded his head in the direction of the railway station. ‘Be out of that building by Thursday morning. Typewriters. Furniture. Your poster of Michael Jackson. The fuckin’ lot. If you’re not,’ Norton looked down at the body of Percy Kilby, ‘that’s how you’ll finish. Only you won’t go out with a smile on your face. You’ll have no head. You got that too?’

  Frank nodded sourly again.

  ‘Good.’ Norton smiled at the tall thug. ‘Well I guess I’ll be seeing you, Frank. Don’t know when though.’ As Les turned to walk away the smile on his face spread into a huge grin. ‘In the meantime. Keep those stitches dry, won’t you.’

  Frank clenched his fists with rage, but he didn’t say or do anything.

  Outside the club the boys were waiting impatiently. ‘Come on Les,’ said Tjalkalieri. ‘We want to get out of here.’

  ‘You want to get out of here,’ replied Norton. ‘So do bloody I. And I want to have a word with you three back at the bloody hotel.’

  They reached the Thames Tavern as an ambulance came screaming up Regent Street, its red light flashing as it shot through the traffic lights outside the front door. Back inside their hotel room, the boys took their hats and headbands off and flopped down on the settee to watch Norton clumsily making a cup of tea. He was still wide eyed and still obviously in a state of mild shock.

  ‘Right,’ he said, pointing a finger accusingly at the three of them once he’d managed to get the kettle filled and switched on. ‘Did I see what I thought I saw back in that bloody club?’

  The boys just stared up at him, slight smiles flickering around the corners of their eyes.

  ‘Just what in the bloody hell was that thing?’

  ‘That,’ smiled Tjalkalieri. ‘That was Mungoongali.’

  ‘Christ!’ exclaimed Norton.

  ‘Yes. He’s an ugly big bludger, isn’t he?’ said Mumbi.

  Norton shook his head and stared at the three little Aborigines on the lounge.

  Norton made the tea, waited in silence till it drew, then poured them all a cup. Norton took his over to the balcony where he opened the door and stared out at the city skyline for a few moments before coming back inside. He closed the door behind him and stood in front of the others.

  ‘I still don’t believe what I saw back at that RSL.’

  ‘Good,’ replied Tjalkalieri, slowly sipping his tea. ‘Keep it that way, Les. Forget you were ever up there. Forget the whole thing. Just put in down to your imagination.’

  ‘That wasn’t my imagination. I saw some bloody thing in there. Either that or you hypnotised me.’

  A titter of laughter ran across the lounge.

  ‘Les,’ intoned Yarrawulla. ‘There’s a lot of things about our people the whites will never understand.’

  ‘Yeah,’ nodded Mumbi. ‘We’re not all like those morons hanging around Redfern. Sucking on flagons of plonk and trying to look like they just got off a boat from Jamaica.’

  ‘I know that Mumbles.’

  ‘You ever heard of the Strehlow Collection, Les?’ asked Tjalkalieri.

  Norton nodded his head. ‘Yeah. There was something on TV about it just the other week. They call them Australia’s crown jewels. They’re sacred relics, thousands of years old. Is that right?’

  ‘That’s them,’ nodded Mumbi. ‘Professor Ted Strehlow conned the Aranda elders into letting him take them for safekeeping about fifty years ago.’

  ‘Did it say on the TV about the Canadian anthropologist who got a look at them and it scared the shit out of him?’ said Yarrawulla. Norton nodded slowly again. ‘Well that’ll give you an idea why. And we’ve got an identical set back at Binjiwunyawunya.

  ‘How about another cup of tea Les.’ Tjalkalieri held up his empty cup. Norton topped it up and the others as well. Tjalkalieri took a sip and smiled up at Norton. ‘We’re the only people in the world that worship the earth. Did you know that Les?’

  ‘Hey. I know a fair bit about you,’ replied Norton. ‘And I know that.’

  ‘Other people and tribes worship the moon. The sun. Stars. Gods. Buddha, Mohammed. We worship the earth.’

  ‘And where do you think Mungoongali comes from?’ smiled Mumbi.

  ‘I don’t know what to think. But I’ll bet he doesn’t come from the local women’s softball team. Anyway,’ Norton drained his cup and put it on the table, ‘I’ve got to go and make a phonecall. Do you want anything while I’m down there?’ There was a general shaking of heads. ‘Righto. I’ll be back in about ten minutes.’

  A skinny woman — in her fifties and obviously a wino — had just got off the phone when Norton came down into the foyer. After waving away the cigarette smoke and brown muscat fumes, he was able to get straight through. Price was sitting in the lounge room of his Vaucluse home discussing something with Eddie Salita when the phone rang.

  ‘Hello,’ he said into the receiver.

  ‘Price? It’s Les. How’re you going?’

  ‘Les!! Shit! I’ve been waiting for you to ring. What the bloody hell have you been up to?’

  ‘Nothing. Listen, I want you to ring Redfern RSL and ask for Percy. Here. I’ll give you the number.’

  ‘What! You’re bloody kidding aren’t you? What do I want to talk to that arsehole for?’

  ‘I just want you to ring up and ask for him,’ laughed Norton. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘You’re off your bloody head,’ replied Price, jotting down the phone number. ‘What am I bloody well going to say to him? He’s got to be the last prick in the world I want to talk to.’

  ‘You won’t be talking to him. I just want you to ring up and ask for him. I’ve got a surprise for you.’ Norton laughed out loud again. ‘I’ll tell you what though. If he does answer the
phone — hang up quick. I’ll ring you back in five minutes.’

  ‘Yeah righto,’ mumbled Price reluctantly.

  ‘What’d Les want?’ asked Eddie.

  ‘He wants me to ring Redfern RSL and ask for Kilby.’ ‘You going to?’

  Price shrugged. ‘I may as well I suppose. Don’t know what I’m going to say to him though.’

  Price pushed the buttons and was through. It seemed like a while before a rather anxious voice answered the phone.

  ‘Hello. Redfern RSL.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Price slowly. ‘Could you page someone in the club for me.’

  ‘Yeah sure. Who is it?’

  ‘His name’s Percy Kilby. He runs the local Aboriginal office.’

  There was a pause for a moment. ‘Are you a relative of Mr Kilby’s?’ came the careful voice at the other end.

  ‘Well, I’m a pretty close friend of his. I have to talk to him about something. Is he there?’

  The voice on the other end began to sound very strained.

  ‘Look. I ah... don’t know how to put this to you. But Mr Kilby just had a heart attack in the club.’

  ‘He what!’

  ‘He had a massive heart attack at the bar. Barely thirty minutes ago.’

  ‘A heart attack?’ Price’s face lit up and a huge grin spread across it. ‘Fair dinkum. How is he?’

  There was another pause. ‘You are a friend of Mr Kilby’s are you?’

  ‘Yeah, of course I am. We’re like brothers. Hey, what’s going on?’

  ‘I’m afraid Mr Kilby died in the club before the ambulance could get here.’

  Price couldn’t help but burst into laughter. ‘Did you say he’s dead?’

  ‘Yes. I’m very sorry.’

  ‘You’re sorry,’ roared Price. ‘Mate, I’m fair dinkum heartbroken.’ Price roared laughing again and hung up.

  ‘What’s going on Price?’ asked Eddie.

  With a huge grin on his face Price stared at Eddie in amazement. ‘Kilby’s just had a heart attack. He’s as dead as a dodo.’

  ‘What!!?’ Now it was Eddie’s turn to stare. ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Price. ‘But I will as soon as Les rings back.’ The mercurial casino owner rubbed his hands gleefully in front of the phone. ‘Come on you big red-headed prick. Where are you.’

  Right on five minutes later Norton phoned back.

  ‘Hello Les?’ said Price, snatching up the receiver.

  ‘Yeah. Did you ring the RSL?’

  ‘I sure did. Kilby’s brown bread. He had a heart attack in the club.’

  ‘Yeah I know. It happened right in front of me,’ chuckled Norton. ‘It’s a shame isn’t it. That’s why I said if he answers the phone hang up for Christ’s sake.’

  Price burst out laughing again. ‘Hey fair dinkum Les. How did you bloody do it?’

  Norton gave a tired laugh. ‘Ohh, it’s a long story, Price. But look. I’m not quite finished over here yet. Will you be home tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Yeah. For sure.’

  ‘Well I’ll call over about four. I’ll tell you all about it then.’ Norton paused for a second. ‘Or as much as I can.’

  ‘Fair enough. Eddie’ll be here. We’ll see you then.’

  ‘Okay. See you tomorrow Price.’

  Back in room 9 the boys had turned the TV on and were sitting in front of it watching the figures on the screen more out of habit and indifference than anything else. Mumbi had his eyes almost closed and Yarrawulla wasn’t far behind him. Tjalkalieri looked up and let out a cavernous yawn as Les walked in.

  ‘Make your phone call Les?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah. I just rang Price.’

  Norton told them about his brief conversation, which had them all smiling despite their heavy-lidded tiredness.

  ‘So your boss is quite happy eh?’ yawned Mumbi.

  ‘Yeah. Happy as the proverbial pig in shit. I reckon he’d like to meet you blokes, too, before you go back.’

  Tjalkalieri shook his head. ‘Sorry Les. We’d like to and all that. But we want to get going as soon as we can tomorrow. It’s been a big five days for us — and we’re starting to miss home.’

  ‘Fair enough, Chalky. Anyway,’ Norton clapped his hands together and grinned, ‘what do you want for tea? How about something grouse tonight. Anything you want.’

  Tjalkalieri smiled then yawned as he shook his head. ‘Les. We couldn’t eat a thing. We’re too stuffed.’

  ‘You sure?’ Norton looked surprised. ‘All you’ve had all day has been a bit of fruit and a few cups of tea.’

  Yarrawulla shook his head and yawned. ‘Thanks all the same, Les. But we’re dead-set rooted. We’ll probably be in bed in another five minutes.’

  And they were. Leaving Norton in front of an almost inaudible TV, staring absently at it on his own. After a few minutes he went down to the bottle shop and got a couple of cans of Fourex, then came back and propped in front of the TV sipping them slowly. Very slowly. He wasn’t really watching the TV either. Just staring at it. The thing may as well have not been turned on for all the notice he was taking. There was a lot more on Norton’s mind besides A Country Practice and Hill Street Blues.

  Ancient Aboriginal ceremonies. Vicious fights in men’s toilets. Subterfuge in the AWEC office. That bloody Mungoongali or whatever it was. And when it was all boiled down, he’d just been an accessory to another murder. Yeah. Like Tjalkalieri said, it certainly had been a big five days. Or at least very bloody strange ones. Hard to believe it’s finally all over. Oddly enough, Les began to feel quite tired himself after the second can of beer. He turned the TV off and was in bed by nine. Five minutes after his head hit the pillow, he hardly moved for almost ten hours.

  They were all up and showered and dressed by not long after eight the following morning. Although a little stiff at first, Norton felt good after all that uninterrupted sleep. But everyone was in high spirits. It was the relief, more than anything else, that the job was finally over and almost like a great burden had been lifted from all their shoulders. Especially with the boys. Where they had been noticeably tense and strained, especially the last day or so, now they were positively jubilant. What they’d come all this way to accomplish had been done, they’d soon be paid and in a few hours they’d all be home with their loved ones. Norton made a pot of tea and they drank that while they gave the room a bit of a tidy and the boys carefully packed up their Tjuringa boards and the bone, etc. Norton made a quick trip downstairs to ring Kingsley Sheehan to confirm they’d be out there about eleven or so. The cheerful pilot said that suited him as he had a bit of bookwork to catch up on and he’d see them when they got there.

  ‘Well. Everything’s arranged,’ Norton said happily when he got back to the room. ‘You fly out around eleven and you should be home in Binji by four.’

  ‘That’s good Les,’ smiled Tjalkalieri.

  ‘The girls know what time you’ll be there?’

  ‘We let them know last night before we went to sleep,’ winked Yarrawulla.

  ‘Saves the price of a phone call,’ nodded Norton.

  The room was cleaned up now and the boys were standing next to their bags sipping the last of their tea while they waited patiently to leave.

  ‘Well,’ said Norton, smiling at the three of them. ‘I suppose you’re going to miss room 9 eh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Mumbi. ‘Like you’d miss Johnny Holmes belting you over the head with his cock for a couple of hours.’

  ‘It was starting to get like a prison,’ added Yarrawulla. ‘And those bloody beds. You’d be more comfortable sleeping on a sheet of corrugated-iron.’

  ‘Yeah. You’re pretty right,’ smiled Les. He jangled his car keys in his hand after he slipped off the key to the door. ‘Anyway. What about breakfast? How about we slip up to the San Francisco Grill at the Hilton. Or the New York Deli at Double Bay. Have some eggs benedictine and hash browns. Tell you what. We’ll go down to Pancakes on the Rocks. Have
some blintzes and pancakes with maple syrup. What do you reckon?’

  ‘Les,’ smiled Yarrawulla. ‘You know what we’d like for breakfast?’

  ‘No. But name it Yarra baby and it’s all yours.’ ‘McDonalds.’

  ‘McDonalds?’

  ‘Yeah. Too right Les. That’s just what I feel like.’

  ‘Bloody oath,’ added Tjalkalieri. ‘Quarter pounder with cheese. French fries. Coca-Cola. And one of those grouse chocolate fudge sundaes. Les, I can taste it now.’

  Norton smiled at them almost in disbelief. Fancy wanting to go to McDonalds when he would have taken them anywhere in Sydney they wanted to go. And hang the expense. But actually McDonalds suited him. There was one at Bondi Junction just down from the bank. He could kill two birds with the one stone, so he wasn’t going to argue.

  ‘Come to think of it Yarra. That’s not a bad idea. I might even have a Big Mac myself.’

  ‘Have a nice day. Enjoy your meal,’ grinned Mumbi.

  The boys picked up their bags. Les took his, plus the big black one, and they walked down the stairs to the foyer. Norton asked the girl in the bottle-shop where Bailey was; she said he was out in the parking area washing his car. When they got out there, Ross was running a hose over a green Ford Station-Wagon parked two down from Les’s old sedan. He smiled as soon as he spotted the four of them.

  ‘Hey. How’re you goin’ there George? All right?’

  ‘G’day Ross,’ replied Norton. ‘How’s things?’

  ‘Pretty good.’ The hose had one of those little plastic guns for a nozzle; Bailey dropped it and walked over to where Les was unlocking his car. ‘So how did the ad go. Everything sweet?’

  ‘Yeah. Good as gold,’ replied Norton easily. ‘I’m just taking the boys out to the airport now. Fellahs,’ he said, turning to the others. ‘This is Ross. The owner of the hotel.’

  The boys nodded briefly and gave Bailey a half smile.

  ‘Nice place you’ve got,’ said Tjalkalieri.

  ‘Yeah. Just bonzer,’ nodded Yarrawulla.

  ‘Great view,’ added a po faced Mumbi. ‘Pity we’ve got to go home so soon.’

  ‘Yeah,’ winked Bailey. ‘She’s a beaut little pub the Thames. I thought you blokes’d like it.’