We were in a public toilet when Cain finally convinced me about Thailand. He was perched on the cistern, elbows on knees, mixing up heroin in a plastic spoon. Even in the dim light you could see his red-freckled face was flushed with excitement.
‘I’m tellin ya Jared, cheap gear, tropical beaches, we’ll be livin like kings.’
I knew all about people living like kings in Thailand. Brewing up cockroach stew in the Bangkok Hilton. No way.
Whenever he was trying to wear you down on something Cain got this off-tap look in his eyes, like some psycho in a B-grade thriller. That look must’ve held some kind of hypnotic power because I’d find myself going along with all sorts of crazy plans. He’d had Thailand on his mind for weeks, ever since we saw a doco on the drug problem there. Apparently a glut of cheap drugs meant kids all over the place were going round high as coconut palms. Didn’t seem like such a problem to us.
Cain was sold.
‘You wanna spend the rest of your life working like a fuckin dog to buy crumbs?’
I told him working like a dog beat ending up a living nest for maggots. Withering away in your filth in some overcrowded cell. Besides, I still had some hope. Maybe someday a girlfriend and kids.
‘Mate, have you seen the girls over there? Get yourself some ripe fuckin fifteen year old, she’ll worship the shit outta your arse.’
What finally got me wasn’t the drugs or the beaches or the fifteen year old girls. June was approaching and already I could feel the cold creeping into my bones. I saw it all before me: standing on streetcorners for hours waiting to pick up. Fucking around in the icy rain trying to do an earn. Feeling cold right down to your core. There’s nothing worse than winter for guys like Cain and me.
So I said to Cain: ‘What do we have to do?’
He got off the toilet and handed me my fit.
‘It’s simple. We need to get ourselves a bit of the old Laurie Nash. Ten grand’ll do.’
*
Cain said we needed some hardware. I didn’t like the idea. Already I was regretting going along with the whole plan, but Cain had an iron will which was difficult to bend back once it got going. I told him there must be other ways of doing an earn than putting a couple of barrels in someone’s face. The thing I knew about guns was that things go wrong. Adrenalin pulls triggers.
‘What other options are there?’ Cain said. ‘It’s not as if we can go and get a bank loan.’
Cain knew a guy from the west who could help us. His name was Ned and he was from one of those Eastern European countries. Ned got us to come over to his place, a newly-built concrete villa across from the drab beach. The whole area smelled of burnt oil and brine. There was an icy wind sluicing off the bay which blew all my reservations off me like dust.
We had about a hundred bucks to our names, the dregs of Cain’s dole payment which had gone in the day before. Cain was dubious about the prospect of getting anything for that much, but I told him I had a little back up plan in case we came up short.
When we got to Ned’s the door was answered by this six foot stunner that made your stomach hurt. She had hair the colour of creamed-honey that was cut into a bob. Cain went red-faced as a school kid and stammered when he told her who he was. I’d never seen him so humbled, like he’d been reduced to size. The woman told us to come in, then led us with this sweet bum-flicking walk to the lounge where Ned was watching a boxing match on cable.
Ned looked a little like Al Pacino except fatter. He was maybe fifty, and I thought he must be cashed-up to have a girl like that answering his door.
‘How are ya, boys? Take a seat.’
He had an easy voice, lightly accented. Cain and me sat on a cream leather sofa which squeaked beneath our bums. The wall behind Ned was lined with pictures of some boxer with chiselled muscles and a square face. One was mid-punch, another holding up a title, another flanked by two implanted blondes in bikinis.
Ned saw me looking at the photos.
‘Happiest day of my life, when I won that,’ he said smiling.
If it was Ned in the photos he’d changed beyond recognition since his days as a boxer. All those muscles had turned to fat, and his face was beginning to drop around the jowls.
‘So what can I do for you boys?’
‘We’re after some weapons,’ Cain said.
‘What do you mean weapons? You want knives, guns, machetes?’
‘Guns,’ Cain said. ‘We want guns.’
Ned told us to wait and went out of the room. Cain and me sat watching the boxing on the massive plasma screen. One of the blokes spat out a wad of red mucous.
‘You see that?’ Cain said, transfixed. ‘People say we have a death wish.’
The guy with the red mucous looked like he might have been on the planet Neptune for all he was aware, but still he fought on, muscles heaving against his shiny taut skin. I thought how unfair it was, that some people are locked up and left to rot while others are given piles of money and hot girls, just because their preference for self-destruction is different.
Ned came back into the room and switched off the TV with the remote. He placed a large grey briefcase on the coffee table and flicked it open. The thing was brim-full of all kinds of guns. Cain asked to have a look at a couple of sawn-off shotguns.
‘How much for these?’ he asked.
‘You’re looking at eight hundred each, but I can do the two for one five.’
Cain looked at me.
‘I think we can manage that,’ I said. ‘Give us two hours and we’ll be back to pick em up.’
*
We shook with Ned and were escorted out by the woman, then crossed the road to the beach. The bay was dotted with container ships. Cain pulled a smoke from his pack and offered me one.
‘Whatever your plan is Jared, it better be good.’
‘Relax,’ I said, blowing a smoke ring that got carried away by the wind. The sky had covered over with these low clouds, like it was about to rain. I pulled out my phone.
‘Well come on, share.’
‘All I need you to do is, when I give the signal, yell something into the phone from where you’re standing. Something like “Hurry the fuck up.” Make it mean sounding though. Make it sound like you’re a psycho.’
‘Jesus, I don’t know what the fuck you’re cookin but-’
‘Shhh.’
The phone was ringing. After five or six rings the old lady picked up.
‘Hello?’
It’d been more than six months since I’d heard my mum’s voice. She sounded different, haggard.
‘Mum, it’s me. Jared.’
‘Jared? Where are you?’
‘How are ya mum?’
‘Why haven’t you called? I’ve been trying you on your mobile but you never answer.’
‘I’m calling now aren’t I?’
‘Jared, are you OK?’
‘How’s everything there? How’s Rob?’
‘Rob’s fine. I want to know how things are with you.’
‘Things are… OK. As good as can be expected.’
‘Are you clean?’ It was the inevitable question.
‘Yeah mum, I’m clean. Look, I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m ready to change.’
‘Jared where are you? You’re not in any trouble are you?’
‘I need some help. Thing is I owe some guys some money and they’re-’
‘Oh not this again.’
‘Mum, please. They say they’re gonna hurt me.’
‘God help me.’
‘Mum. Please.’
‘Why’d you have to go and borrow money in the first place?’
A light drizzle had started to fall. I hunched up my shoulders and stared out to the horizon.
‘How much is it?’ mum said.
‘Two thousand.’
‘You know I don’t have that kind of money.’
‘Mum, they say they’re gonna kill me.’
I lifted my hand and signalled for Cain to speak.
‘Oi maggot, hurry up or we’ll put a fuckin bullet through your skull.’
Mum made a sucking sound, like she’d been punched in the gut. She started bumbling her words.
‘Jared tell me where you are. I’ll- I’ll call the police.’
‘No good mum. They say I’ve got twenty minutes, then they’ll shoot me.’
‘OK Jared, I’m leaving right now to put the money in. I’ll ask Rob for a loan. It’ll be there at the most in half an hour. Tell them to please just wait. The car’s being fixed. Tell them that.’
‘Mum, thanks, I promise I’ll pay you back.’
‘Don’t worry about that now… alright, I’m going. Tell them to wait.’
‘Thanks mum,’ I said, but she’d already hung up. I lowered the phone.
‘You little fuckin legend,’ Cain said, slapping me on the back. ‘You did it! I can’t believe-’
‘Get fucked,’ I said, pushing his arm off my shoulder. I started walking to the main street where the bank was.
*
After picking up the guns we had enough cash to head into the city and get on. The train ride back was mostly silent, the two of us staring out the windows at the creeping dusk. Mum called after she put the money in to make sure I was alright. She had this tired gratitude to her voice that made me want to jump in front of the next train.
By the time we scored I was hanging like a dog. For a second when I used everything levelled out, but afterwards I was left with this feeling of pointlessness about the whole life I was leading. Using, getting a habit, then needing to do all this shit just to feel alright. As far back as I could remember I’d always scorned the mainstream. Couldn’t think of anything worse than working a nine-to-fiver. But there was still an urge within me, strong as the need to piss or breathe, to have a normal life. Using smack felt like a temporary aberration.
For Cain it was different. He had this idea that if he could just get enough drugs then all his problems would melt away. Thailand was going to be the scam to end all scams.
When we got back to the shelter Cain said he knew a dealer who always picked up Saturday evenings, which meant Saturday morning he’d have a huge pile of treasure laid aside with which to purchase the smack. He didn’t come right out and say it but I knew he meant we should roll the guy.
I’d imagined us holding up some convenience store with balaclavas on our faces. If things did go belly-up I might do a few years inside, but then I could enjoy my life as a free citizen, having paid my debt. The debt incurred for holding up a dealer was not so cut and dry. A dealer would want blood, revenge. My neck bristled.
We were in the TV room of the shelter. There were a few other guys in there, so we had to keep our voices down.
‘All you have to do,’ Cain said, ‘is hold the gun. I’ll do all the talkin.’
At some point we fell asleep. I was pretty far gone. I had this dream we flew to Thailand and when we got there it was freezing. We might as well have landed in the Antarctic. There was a mongrel southerly blowing in, and I wanted to scream because we’d done all this shit to get there and it wasn’t what we wanted at all.
When I woke up I realised someone had left the window in the TV room open. Everything was quiet except for Cain’s heavy breathing, and the sound of cars in the distance. I went through to the courtyard to smoke a cigarette. The drugs had left my body and I had this feeling, this horrible black ball in my gut, like I was rotting slowly from the inside out. Suddenly I wanted to bolt, to leave the shelter and Cain and all his scams. I’d get a job and make things right with mum. I was huddled up on the lawn-chair against the cold wind, smoking in quick, shivery draws. Somehow I couldn’t turn back. We’d come too far, Cain and me. I knew this thing wasn’t going to end well, but an end is an end, and it’s not easy to change courses when the one you’re on isn’t finished.
*
Saturday came around, and we were strutting through the back streets, guns heavy against our chests in the makeshift holsters Cain’d rigged up from old bedsheets. Cain was remembering the stick-ups of his younger days.
‘We used to roll two, sometimes three stores a week. Hardware stores, milk bars, video stores, whatever. If they had cash, we’d do em. We used to come away with four, sometimes five hundred a pop. Course, that was worth more in those days, what with the price of gear being so cheap.’
He told me how, when he was busted on fingerprint evidence, the cops took him to the cells and laid punches into his vital organs to get him to cough up names. He’d ended up coughing up a whole lot of blood and bile, but no names.
‘I went down hard. The prosecutor tried to lay fifteen years on me, but the judge went soft cos of my age. Got eight with a minimum of four. And I made damn sure that was all I was gonna do.’
I realised I’d never even bothered to find out how old Cain was. I figured if he’d spent four years inside that’d make him at least thirty. Sometimes his eyes looked older though, with a dullness that comes from too much time waiting.
Cain must’ve read my mind.
‘I went in at twenty four, so by the time I was your age I’d already spent a year locked away. It nearly fuckin killed me. You see, some folks in the system get beaten down, like wounded dogs, loyal to the bastards that put em there. I was never like that. I answered back, spoke up if something wasn’t right. I copped a lot of beatings, but at least I could always hold my head up.’
We stopped walking. Without realising we had gone into the shadow of the high-rise flats. An old foreign-looking guy was sitting on his walking frame watching a bunch of kids playing on swings. The gun was cold against my clammy skin.
We made our way over to the entrance.
‘You’re fuckin kidding me,’ Cain said. Just through the sliding doors two cops were stationed, clear as day. ‘Fuck!’ He started pacing.
‘Relax,’ I said. ‘They’ll just be here screening. I’ve walked past cops dozens of times to go score.’
‘You’re forgetting we’re not going to score.’
I’d never seen Cain so thrown off balance. His mouth had become pinched up and his eyes darted round.
‘They don’t know that,’ I said. ‘For all they know we’re here to convert people to the ways of Jesus Christ.’
‘Fat chance of that.’
‘C’mon, be cool.’
‘If they pinch me with an unregistered firearm I’ll be in breach of my parole conditions. This time I’ll get the full eight, no two ways.’
I hadn’t thought of that. If they searched me I might get a slap on the wrist, a suspended sentence, maybe some community service. But for Cain the stakes were high.
His eyes were fierce.
‘I’m tellin ya, if they try and search me then at least one of em will eat a bullet. Preferably both. I’d rather die than go back inside.’
I thought about where that’d leave me. I’d either take a bullet with Cain or go down as a cop killer. Either way the outcome would be bad. Again I got the urge to bolt, and the same powerless feeling came, like I was at the mercy of some dark force. I mean, it sounds pretty corny, all Star Wars and that, but that’s what it’s like.
‘Let’s do it,’ I said. ‘Whatever happens, I’m behind you.’
Walking up to the entrance it was like the volume had been turned up on everything. Kids playing, birds singing, they all sounded different somehow, sharper.
When we came through the doors both cops looked up at us. I went over to the table and shoved my hands in my pockets.
‘How can we help you?’ one of the cops said. His name badge read Constable Reeves. He was short and built like a bull-terrier.
‘Just paying a visit to a friend.’
‘What’s your friend’s name?’
‘Steve,’ I said.
‘Surname?’
‘God, Chambers, Chalmers, something like that.’
‘What flat’s he in?’
‘Two eighty two.’
The other cop, whose name was Fellows, wrote my answers into a register.
‘And what does Steve Chambers or Chalmers do?’
It was Fellows who asked the question. He was taller than Reeves, and had a long face with a nose like a beak. He had the air of a joker.
‘Never asked,’ I said
‘What, you never asked him his profession? Not much of a friend, are you?’
‘I guess it just never came up in conversation.’
Cain’s temper was a radiant heat coming from his body. I could hear him breathing through his raspy throat.
‘And what’s the purpose of your visit?’ Reeves said.
‘Just have a couple of beers, maybe watch some telly.’
‘What about your mate?’
My whole body went cold. I thought, if they start prodding Cain, there’ll be nothing I can do to avoid a shootout.
‘We need you to sign in too buddy,’ Fellows said.
Cain’s face had the flushed look he always got when he was excited or angry. He held Fellows’ eyes the whole time, even while signing in. I could see the cops’ demeanor change – they weren’t used to people who refused to cower.
‘You seeing the famous Mr Chambers/Chalmers too?’ Fellows said.
Cain gave a courtly nod.
‘You look familiar buddy,’ Fellows said. ‘You ever been in trouble with the law?’
‘You must be thinkin of someone else.’
Fellows watched Cain for a good minute. I could see Cain’s refusal to show humility had gotten his back up.
‘I never forget a face,’ Fellows said. ‘You know how it goes – bad with names, etcetera. Maybe you could help me out by giving us a look at some ID.’
Cain slapped his pockets. Somehow he made it seem a violent act.
‘Musta left me wallet at home.’
‘Well that’s a shame’ – Fellows squinted at the register – ‘Gary Smith. You know that suspicion of providing a false name is grounds for arrest.’
Cain folded his hands over his abdomen. To the cops it looked like an innocent act, but I could see what he was doing.
‘Here’s the thing boys,’ Fellows said. ‘There’s been a number of violent assaults here in the past few months, so we’re carrying out routine body searches on visitors to the flats. Would you please both stand facing that wall and place your hands flat against it.’
‘This is bullshit,’ Cain said.
‘If you’ve got nothing to hide,’ Reeves said, ‘then there’s nothing to worry about.’
A wall of panic had come down inside me, separating me from reason. I tried to assess the situation clearly, but my thoughts were going off like firecrackers.
‘Against the wall, boys,’ Fellows said. ‘We do this the easy way or the hard way.’
Cain and me were rooted to the spot. Cain’s fingers twitched. We were very nearly at the point of no return. Once he’d shown his hand there’d be no turning back.
Just then the sliding doors opened and a bunch of Samoans came in, seven or eight of them. The cops’ attention turned squarely from us to them. Sensing a momentary reprieve, we bolted, and managed to get into a closing elevator. I heard a shout from behind us but I’m not sure whether it was the cops or the Samoans.
When we got off at the sixth floor the passageway was silent and our footsteps reverberated on the hard concrete. I was just about choking with fear. Every time we rounded a corner I thought the cops would be there, waiting to pinch us.
Cain was still bristling. His eyes stared out, four years of beaten pride and resentment toward authority rising to the surface. At that point I didn’t have much sympathy. I was mad with him for getting the cops off-side. He didn’t seem to care how close we’d just come to disaster.
Neither of us spoke all the way to the dealer’s door. When we got there Cain pulled back the flimsy security door and gave three sharp raps. I prayed for it to be answered quickly – I could hear distant footsteps and I was convinced the cops would come hurtling down the passage any second to arrest us. After what seemed like ages there was the sound of shuffled footsteps the other side of the door and then it opened an inch, prevented from going further by a door bolt. Two furtive black eyes looked out between the gap.
‘G’day mate,’ Cain said. ‘I’m just after a grammy.’
The two dark eyes fixed on me.
‘Who’s he?’
‘He’s a friend of mine. It’s his cash.’
The young guy hesitated.
‘Come on mate, we’re gonna get rolled if you make us wait out here.’
The door closed, and there was the sound of the bolt sliding in its latch. The air inside the flat was stuffy and had the saccharine smell of burning heroin. The manic sound of computer game street-fighting filled the place. The kid led us through to the lounge, where four other Vietnamese guys were sitting round a TV set. Two of them were furiously mashing games consoles. When the fight finished, one of the guys stood up. He was so short he didn’t even clear my shoulder. He was wearing this huge black puffy coat that came down almost to his knees.
When he saw me he immediately became leery.
‘Next time call if you wanna bring up someone else,’ he said to Cain.
‘Sorry buddy, it’s just my mate here was putting up the-’
‘I don’t care. Just ask.’
Cain looked at me and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. My dole payment had come through the previous day and I’d withdrawn the lot.
‘What you after?’ the dealer asked.
‘Just a gram.’
‘That’s two fifty.’
I handed over the cash, then the dealer went behind the TV where he opened up a black safebox. The other guys were watching the screen intently. This is it, I thought. No turning back now. Cain looked at me and gave a little nod. We slid the guns out of our holsters and stood there like a bad surprise.
‘Righteo, no one fuckin move,’ Cain said.
The dealer closed the black safebox and slowly stood up. He glared at us briefly, then barked something in Vietnamese. As if stung the two who were playing dropped the controls and they all stood up.
‘Here’s the deal,’ Cain said. ‘You give us what we want, we get outta here and you boys get to keep yer balls.’
He paused a moment to let his words sink in.
‘Understand?’
The five guys just looked at us with hooded eyes.
‘Understand?’
‘What you fuckin want?’ the dealer said. I admired him. I wasn’t sure I’d be so calm with a sawn-off shotgun aimed at my face.
‘Cash,’ Cain said.
The word hung in the rank air. The dealer just stared at Cain’s gun. Everyone was watching him. He shrugged.
‘I got none.’
Cain took a step forward.
‘Where’s the fuckin cash?’
The dealer continued to watch the gun with cold calm.
‘I told you. I got none.’
‘You’re fuckin bullshitting me. I know you’ve got cash here, so either tell me where it is or I’ll find it.’
Cain went round to the back of the TV and came back with the black safebox.
‘Keys,’ he said.
The dealer tossed the keys at Cain’s feet. Inside the box was a number of foil packages the size of golf balls.
‘See,’ the dealer said. ‘Just picked up this morning. No cash, only gear.’
He was gloating, like he’d played his trump and won.
‘Just take the gear,’ he said, ‘and go.’
Cain was squatting at the safebox holding the foil packages. He looked up at me, and for a split-second I thought I saw fear in his eyes.
‘This cunt’s meant to have twelve grand stashed in this room.’
‘Let’s just take the gear,’ I said.
‘Can’t buy plane tickets with heroin, Jared.’
‘Well fuck. I don’t know.’
Cain stood up. I could see something clicking into place in his eyes. The fear was replaced by steely resolve. He went over to the group of guys and aimed his gun between the eyes of a kid who looked about sixteen.
‘Tell me where the cash is or you’ll be counting the pieces of this cunt’s skull.’
The kid’s eyes opened so wide I thought they’d fall out of their sockets. I watched the dealer. He seemed undecided, like he was wondering whether to play the bluff.
‘Look man, search everything. I tell you, you won’t find nothing. Like I said, all I got’s gear.’
Cain clicked back the safety latch on his gun. The other four guys, including the dealer, stepped back from the kid, who looked at them like they’d taken the only life-raft and left him to die at sea.
‘Come on man, I’m telling ya the truth,’ the dealer was saying. ‘There’s only gear. I swear to God.’
‘You’ve got ten seconds,’ Cain said in a flat voice. ‘Tell me where the cash is, or your friend’s gonna taste lead. Ten, nine, eight, seven-’
‘Man I wouldn’t lie to ya. If I had cash, I’d give it to ya, just like that.’ The dealer was starting to panic now, and so was I. With the cops down there we’d have no chance of getting away. They’d have us sewn up before lunch.
An older guy, maybe twenty-five, with thin hair spattered over his face said something to the dealer. The dealer replied with a single word, at no time taking his eyes off Cain.
‘-six, five-’
‘Cain this is crazy.’
‘Shut the fuck up Jared. Four, three-’
The kid had become a blubbering mess. A dark stain was beginning to spread across his thigh.
The older guy spoke again, this time more urgently. There was anger creeping into his voice. This time the dealer didn’t even answer him. Cain and the dealer were glaring at each other, like they were locked in some private struggle, and the rest of us were just landscape.
‘-two-‘
‘Cain don’t fuckin do this.’
‘Keep your mouth shut Jared. One.’
‘Stop don’t shoot!’ It was the older guy. ‘It’s on his body.’
He looked down at his shoes with this shamed expression. He made his face hard but I could see he was crying. The dealer said something to him that sounded like a death sentence.
I wondered, on account of the resemblance, whether he was the kid’s brother.
‘Take em off,’ Cain said to the dealer.
The dealer slowly removed his puffy jacket and then the t-shirt underneath. The notes were stuck on in bundles with gaffa tape. Cain told the other guys to remove the cash and lay it at our feet. They were down to the last couple of bundles when there was a knock at the door. Everyone stopped.
‘Let’s get the fuck out of here,’ I said.
‘Alright. Grab the gear.’
I collected the six golfball-sized foils and stuffed them in my pocket while Cain shoved the cash down his pants. Then we were stepping backwards, guns still levelled on the group, edging toward the door. There was another knock. Cain told me to look through the peephole. It was just some weedy junkie with a shaved head. I opened the door and showed the kid my gun. He skittered down the hall and out of sight. Then Cain was next to me, closing the door behind us.
We bolted like hell for the fire escape where our footsteps rang out like gunshots on the cold concrete.
*
In the days after the job there was a change in Cain. After we left the dealer’s we were riding high, like we’d pulled off something pretty special, but then he seemed to crash hard. The mad look in his eyes was replaced with this hollow, beaten stare. His dream had come true, he had all the smack he could use, and yet I’d never seen him in a worse way.
Every time I mentioned Thailand he changed the subject, till he finally told me outright to drop it. For some reason he’d gone sour on the plan. I could’ve pressed the point, but secretly I was grateful. Besides, Cain was already hatching another scam. We should go into dealing, he said. We had enough drugs and cash to get ourselves started. He worked it all out, and as he ran me through the details the same old look came into his eyes. Even as we ploughed through the gear and the cash he continued to formulate the plan.
Soon after we finished off our takings Cain shot through to Sydney, where he said the gear was better. We had nothing to show for the job except raging habits which we couldn’t support. I said goodbye to him on the footpath outside the shelter. He shook my hand and said it’d been good to know me, and I said likewise.
I felt exhausted, like everything was too much. Soon I’d need to figure out how to get some cash together. But I couldn’t even think about that now. I just sat down, right there on the footpath, drew my knees to my chest and watched Cain’s back get smaller until the world swallowed him up.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 17.01.2012

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