between Kempsey and Tamworth. The light was fading when we got to Bunda Bunda. Clem told me to stop by the single public phone booth in the town.
‘Let’s have some silver, Cliff.’ I gave him what I had, and he reached over and took the keys. He went into the booth and I saw him take the. 38 out and put it to hand; then he shovelled money into the box, dialled, waited and spoke. He was grinning when he came back.
‘What next?’ I said.
‘Night’s sleep and a new car, about twenty miles off.’
We turned back towards the coast and started dropping. I was tired and hungry when Clem guided us down a track to a shack at the edge of a fast moving creek. A white VW 1600, not new but younger than the Falcon, was parked behind the building which was mostly fibro with a bit of timber and a minimum of glass.
There was a gas cylinder and a two burner stove in the shack and we had a meal of tinned poison and I drank two cans of warm beer. I was sleepy and even the rickety bunks at the back of the single room looked inviting. Clem had taken the distributor from the Falcon and he looked at me as I yawned.
‘Ready to pack it in, Cliff?’
‘Yeah, but let’s not have any of that Siamese twins act, eh?’
‘You could shoot through and have the cops here in no time.’
‘Clem, I’m buggered. I don’t know where we are. It’s pitch black outside. I assume the creek goes down to the coast but I’m just not in the mood to build a raft. I’m not going anywhere tonight.’ I took off my shoes and handed them to him.
He laughed and jabbed at me with the shoes. ‘All right, tell you what, you have a nice big brandy and I’ll have a small one to keep you company.’
He’d taken charge of the bottle and now he held it out. I set the world’s bottle-opening record and we sat there in front of the kerosene lamp with a good brandy in enamel mugs. He took sip and pulled a face. In the flickering light the strain and the years showed clearly. He drank a bit more, and squinted as if he was in pain.
I took a long pull on the smooth spirit. ‘What’s on your mind, Clem?’
‘Joannie’, he said.
The room was full of light when I woke up and Clem was shaving with a blade razor and a piece of soap; steam was lifting from a shallow enamel bowl.
‘Get up you lazy bugger, and make some coffee.’
I had a bit of a head and I groaned when I swung my legs on to the boards.
‘You look bloody awful, I should make you take a swim in the creek.’
‘You’d be lucky. How’d you sleep?’
‘Fair.’
I made the coffee and set the mug down in front of him. He wiped his face off carefully with a torn towel. He looked healthy and fresh. I rubbed my hand over my dirty, dark-bristled face; I was the one who looked like a desperado. He offered me the razor but I couldn’t see my heavy beard giving way to it.
‘Look, Clem, why don’t you stick here a while. I’ll go up to Gismore and see what I can find out. If you can pin it on this Riley character, you’re home free.’
Clem sipped coffee, taking it hot and squinting against the steam, then he shook his head slowly. ‘Thanks, Cliff; I know you’d give it a go but it’s not on. I want him and I want the money, I’ll start turning over new leaves then.’
‘Could be too late, Clem.’
‘Could be.’
We tidied the cabin a bit and took the spare food and drink out to the VW. Clem took a plastic drum out of the back and told me to siphon out the Falcon’s tank. He let me pour back enough to run her a few miles and he tossed the distributor on to the seat.
‘It’s all downhill from here’, he said.
He was preoccupied on the drive towards Gismore, and so was I.
‘Have you given any thought to the coppers, Clem?’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Well, if this Riley set you up like you say, you’d expect a copper or two to know a little about it.’
‘Fine body of men, Cliff.’
‘Sure, but you see what I mean. If a policeman or two have an interest in keeping you fixed up for this job things could get pretty hot.’
‘You’re so right.’
‘Well, you’ve been spotted going north, assuming that poor bugger back there could talk when they got to him. They’ve had plenty of time to prepare. This Riley’ll have a copper in bed with him.’
‘I know that. I told you I’d thought about this thing, I’ve got a way to bring him to me quiet as a mouse.’
‘How?’
‘You’ll see.’
He pushed the VW along pretty hard and when we were about still two hours out from Gismore I could tell from his driving that he was in familiar country. I wasn’t; the deep green foliage and the red earth looked foreign to my city eye and the glimpses of ocean were like snapshots of exotic seas, richly coloured and mysterious.
Gismore was ten kilometres away when Clem headed up a dirt road into the hills behind the town. He seemed to take pleasure from just looking at the forest and the cleared land-there were a lot of corn fields and I have to admit they looked nice. We bounced along a couple of tracks and Clem stopped just before a sharp bend.
‘Go for a stroll up the road, Cliff, Clem said. ‘You’ll see a big open shed with an iron roof, the house is off to the right, white weatherboard. See if there’s anyone about. Look innocent, mate.’
I got out stiffly and walked up the track. Birds and insects in the trees were making a lot of noise and I could hear a tractor working a long way off. It was a nice clear day and I felt tense, like waiting for a dentist to start in with his drill. I stuck my hands in my pockets and wandered up to the mill which had a very rusty roof and a slab wall at the back. There was a lot of rusty machinery and a couple of long, low shapes covered with heavy polythene. I took these to be Clem’s cars. On a bench in the middle of the shed a set of tools lay in a jumble of oil and dirty rags and rust. There was an almost sheer rock wall behind the shed, the track in front. The rock wall ran around to the left and the house was on the right. There was scrub and light forest behind the house. I walked across towards the house; there were no fresh tyre tracks on the dusty ground and the place had a closed-down, empty look. There were cobwebs across the screen door at the front and the back door was locked. I walked back to the car.
‘All clear. What’s next?’
He put the gun away and relaxed. ‘I’ll show you around.’
We went into the shed and Clem swore when he saw the neglected bench. He pointed to the closest of the covered cars. ‘Take a look, I want to find something here.’ He leaned over the bench and I bent down to lift the polythene. Clem moved fast; I didn’t hear him, and then his arm was around my neck and he was pressing hard somewhere and I grabbed at the dusty plastic and everything went black.
When I came to I was sitting at the base of the bench and my arms were drawn back behind one of its legs and tied with what felt like wire.
‘Sorry mate’, Clem said, ‘I didn’t think you’d go along with the next bit so I had to put you out. How do you feel?’
‘Like a Tooheys’, I grunted.
He laughed and loped off down the track. He was fit, purposeful and fresh looking. I felt a thousand years old, impotent and beaten. He came back with the box of food, peeled a banana and fed it to me slowly.
‘Keep you alive for weeks that will.’ He found a dirty mug on the bench, rinsed it at a tap and mixed a strong brandy and water. He held the cup while I sipped it down.
‘Okay?’
‘Yeah. I don’t like the look in your eyes, Clem; do you remember when you fought in the state finals? That
