reason other than friendship, had reached out and saved him when his need was greatest.
He walked past Nero’s Lounge bar on Market Street and briefly noted the reflection in the window. He saw a man of medium height, lean and well muscled. His head was shaven and despite being mid-winter the skin was brown, courtesy of his father’s Brazilian heritage, or at least that was what his mother had told him. His father hadn’t stayed around long enough for him to personally verify this. Manuel wore jeans and a black jumper which was a little tight around his broad chest. By most standards he cut quite a handsome figure and as a result, received admiring glances from some of the young women he passed on the street, which he either missed or ignored. If any of the interested women had a chance to get to know him they might not have liked what they found. What had once been a tough yet easy going youth had turned into an uncompromising and hard piece of stone courtesy of the seven years he had spent at the Goulburn Correctional Centre mixing with the cream of New South Wales worst prisoners. They had taught him some tough lessons but ultimately he had survived.
Manuel had knocked off at five from the panel beater shop where he’d been working since his release eight weeks previously. Turning down the usual after work offer to share a couple of cartons of beer with the other guys in the shop, he had travelled home to his dingy Redfern apartment, swapped his dirty overalls for his current attire and taken the train into the city. He checked the time on his mobile phone and quickened his pace.
Five minutes later Manuel arrived at Pellegrinos Italian restaurant, where he had been eating free of charge every Friday night since his release, courtesy of his friend Bruno Trulli who managed the restaurant. They had first met almost nine years ago when at the age of sixteen Manuel had started working there. Initially Manuel had planned to stay just long enough to earn enough cash to buy a battered Subaru WRX that his friend was selling, but he soon began to enjoy the energetic machinations of working in a busy and successful inner-city restaurant. He worked hard, and progressed from dishwasher to kitchen hand, in the process, discovering a natural flair and ability for food preparation. Through his efforts he earned the respect and friendship of Bruno who encouraged him and arranged for him to commence a chef apprenticeship.
Unfortunately things didn’t quite work out as planned. Manuel had been involved in street gangs since he was ten. Although he played his part well enough in their territorial disputes, petty crimes and other delinquent acts, it wasn’t by choice or desire that he was involved. It was just a way of surviving adolescence in the deep western suburbs neighbourhood where he lived. If you weren’t in a gang you were an easy target for those who were.
On a hot and muggy January night seven years ago he had gone out cruising and drinking beers with his friends. They tried to gatecrash a Facebook advertised party in Blacktown, hoping to meet some new girls and score some food and booze, but were turned away. Things got a little heated, a few punches were thrown and they were chased backed to their car by a group of twenty youths. Manuel was fuming as he’d caught a lucky punch from some big private schoolboy hero and his nose was broken and bleeding. As they drove away, Manuel impulsively grabbed his friend’s handgun from under the seat. He had planned to fire into the air to scare them, but his rage got the better of him. When he saw the guy who had smacked him, jeering with his friends at their car, he pointed the gun in his direction and pulled the trigger. His shot went wide and killed a fifteen year old girl. Manuel had just turned eighteen years of age, was convicted of manslaughter and sent to Goulburn Jail.
In prison he soon realised he was just a child, alone among men. He was harassed and assaulted from day one, by members of the various cliques that existed there and anyone else who was in the mood for fun, or whose tastes ran to brown smooth-skinned teenage boys.
Before long Bruno Trulli came to visit him. He was Manuel’s first visitor. His mother, who was the only family he knew of, abandoned him after his arrest, saying that it was the straw that broke her back. He didn’t blame her as it was the straw that almost broke his back too. In the stark and bland visitors centre Manuel broke down in front of the old man. He cried for the first time since he could remember and told Bruno he didn’t think he could survive for much longer. It was then that the old man saved him. Bruno somehow arranged for the right people inside the prison to keep an eye out for him. It didn’t quite amount to protection and it didn’t mean that Manuel’s incarceration was the equivalent of a holiday in the Maldives, but it was enough to give him the breathing space he needed to find his feet in the prison system. It was enough to help him survive. Manuel asked how Bruno achieved this, but the old man just smiled and said that he had a lot of friends. Manuel knew that he owed the old man his life, absolutely and completely.
Despite the watchful eye of Bruno’s connections and Manuel spending as much of his time as he could away from the general populace working or studying, his time in prison was pockmarked with its fair share of skirmishes. He learned to fight and knew he could and would kill someone if he had to. He learned to have no regrets, to act violently first and to survive. Through endless repetitions of heavy weights he built up his slim young body and on the day he left prison he tipped the scales at just on ninety kilograms of hard, lean, muscle, seventeen kilograms heavier than when he went in.
Upon his release Bruno helped him find accommodation and work at the body shop. Since then, Manuel had come to Pellegrinos every Friday night to eat and talk about old times and new plans with Bruno. It was during these chats that Manuel discovered Bruno had some troubles of his own and Manuel had willingly offered to help in an attempt to repay his debt to him.
Manuel entered the restaurant which was located in the base of a large office block on Castlereagh Street. Its double glazed facade afforded diners a clear view of the street beyond without the accompanying noise and fumes. Upon entering he saw Bruno standing at his counter, checking the bookings for the night, just as he did six nights of the week and had done so for fifteen years before Manuel had ever set foot there.
“Good Evening Manuel. You look well,” said the old man in greeting, warmly shaking his hand. Manuel again noted how much Bruno had aged since he had first met him. His hair was now completely white and there were deep, permanent lines around his eyes, mouth and forehead. He had lost weight as he aged and now only budged the scales to sixty kilograms and the black dinner suit he wore hung a little loose in places.
“And you old friend,” replied Manuel quietly.
”Freedom seems to be agreeing with you. Please, take a seat,” Bruno said, guiding his guest to a table in a quiet corner at the rear of the restaurant.
The restaurant had undergone a facelift since Manuel had worked there and some serious money had been spent. An oval shaped island bar now occupied the centre of the restaurant and the kitchen had been completely refurbished and was now open plan, allowing the clientele to watch the kitchen staff dance around the flaming grills as their meals were prepared.
New customers entered the restaurant and Bruno left to greet them. Manuel dined on a huge serve of Linguini con Pollo and two pints of beer before leaving and making his way to the Northern entrance of Hyde Park. It was their usual routine.
After a ten minute wait Bruno approached and they walked a short distance together before taking a seat on a park bench beneath the night shade of the large fig trees. At that hour, the park remained a busy thoroughfare for those with money, and a meeting place for those without, but their bench was far enough removed from all so they could talk in peace.
“You look well my friend. That girl of yours, Kylie? She must be satisfying your needs,” said Bruno with a wry smile.
“Yes she does, in every way,” replied Manuel, a rare smile briefly alighting on his lips.
“You must tell her nothing of this,” added Bruno in a more serious tone.
“I know,” replied Manuel, deciding to quickly change the subject. “How are preparations coming along?”
“We are close now.”
Chapter 5
It was almost eight o’clock Wednesday evening and Craig Thoms was nearing the end of his shift. He was tired from being run off his feet for the last ten hours, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand because he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He lazily strolled down the quiet hospital corridor pushing a wheeled bucket with a mop, scanning the hallway ahead while also listening for footsteps behind him. He casually turned around to double check that he was still alone and then ducked into the medical supply room on his left.
Working quickly, he pulled a key from his pocket, moved to the mesh walled drugs locker located in the corner of the room and unlocked it. It was the size of a large walk-in pantry and its shelves were neatly stocked and
