Black Angels???Red Blood (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

It was around seven on Sunday morning and Tim was asleep on the floor in Charlie's lounge. There was a loud knock on the door. Tim woke up and answered it. Charlie was still asleep upstairs. Tim got a bit of a shock to see two blue uniforms and was glad that the security grille prevented them from entering.

“We're making enquiries and would like to ask you a few questions,” said the officer.

“What about?” Tim asked.

“We want to know if you heard anything unusual last night about two o'clock?”

“Naah, we were at a nightclub till after three.”

“A body was discovered in an old house just down the road and we're trying to ascertain the time it happened.”

“Sorry. Can't help you.” Tim was being polite because the bong and the dope were still on the table and he didn't want them inside.

“Sorry to have disturbed you. If you do remember anything which might be of help, please ring the Redfern Police.”

“Okay,” replied Tim curtly and closed the door.

Tim put the jug on to make a cup of tea. He called to Charlie, then went upstairs to tell him what had happened.

“I'll be down in a minute, put the jug on.”

“It's on,” Tim answered.

Charlie came down and he and Tim began discussing the latest events. Charlie went out into the street and asked a couple of people about last night. They directed him to the young man who had found the body. Charlie knew him and went over to speak to him.

Tim had a cup of tea ready for Charlie when he returned with the young man, who Tim guessed was about seventeen or eighteen. Charlie relayed the story to Tim.

“They found him. He had his ears cut off and it looked like he'd been raped,” said Charlie.

Tim looked Charlie in the eye and asked squarely, “What'd'ya think, one of our mob could've done that?”

“The way that I look at it,” Charlie answered, “evil has no colour.”

“The stories will be as thick as the coppers floating around,” Tim said, wondering what the next few days would be like.

“I'd better hide me dope,” said Charlie reluctantly.

“Steak for breakfast, Charlie?” Tim asked.

“Sounds alright.”

After breakfast they decided to ask around and try to get some more information. The streets were abuzz with people doing exactly what Tim and Charlie were doing. They decided it might be better to wait and see what happened later. Tim thought over the events leading up to the death wondering whether there had been any major political decisions to be made involving Aborigines. It was not the first time that things like this had happened. He remembered in 1981 when the New South Wales government was
making plans to introduce Land Rights. There were six deaths in custody that year, two of them people known to Tim. The shock and outrage that followed almost ruined the talks between the Koories and the government. Tim was of the opinion that something was coming up for the Koories and most possibly in their favour. He was aware that radical white organisations always found out before Koories about any developments in the political arena and always tried their hardest to upset any meaningful talks.

He and Charlie sat and discussed some of the options about the body that had been found. They finally drew two possible conclusions—One that it was a gangland-style killing, possibly related to drugs or money. One way to confirm that was to check on the victim's I.D. and see if he had any connections with the underworld. If not, it was probably the work of racist elements trying to start a mini race war in Redfern. The blacks versus the police.

By now the police presence in Redfern had doubled and you saw them every five minutes instead of every ten. Tim knew it would be another hard time for the Koories in Redfern. The list of raids and police harassment would be endless.

“Well, this is the original spot,” said Tim aloud. “Botany Bay, the invasion. The source of much misery for blacks.” He looked menacingly at a policeman walking past. Charlie, too, was becoming unsteady and knew that the police would start busting dope dealers. It was ironic that they were some of the regular suppliers.

The old man dropped in for a cup of tea around nine o'clock. He'd heard basically the same story as Tim and Charlie and had drawn the same conclusion. The old man didn't want to be drawn into a discussion about it and said he was going to visit a friend in Newtown. Charlie and Tim
decided to get stoned and watch the music clips on TV. Sunday mornings were usually slow and being hungover was another excuse to lie around. In no time Tim had dozed off.

When Tim woke it was about one o'clock. Charlie had gone and there was a note on the table with a key. Tim decided to call his friend Kate to see if she wanted to go to the movies.

“I've been expecting a call from you!” said Kate brightly when she realised it was Tim.

“I'm in Redfern,” Tim said.

“I know,” Kate answered.

“I thought I slipped into Sydney quietly,” Tim said, trying to add an air of mystery.

“We saw you last night hopping into a taxi in Paddo with some people. Come over and have a yarn,” said Kate in a friendly tone.

“Okay, I will.”

Tim had a shower and changed the clothes that he'd slept in and felt mildly relaxed. He decided to walk, as Surry Hills wasn't that far. It was a nice sunny day and he could've almost liked Sydney on days like this.

The household were all up. They had been celebrating all night and were now on their way to the pub for a recovery session. Kate was a white girl he had met a couple of years ago and he considered her a good friend. Kate was too hungover to go to the movies and was going to have a lazy day, so Tim went with the others. Most of the people in the pub were English with a smattering of Australian and Irish. Tim didn't feel uncomfortable being the only black person there. He had a good look around and noticed he was the focus of a lot of people's attention. After a few beers and a
joint, Tim began to open up and talk to people who had come to congregate at their table.

There were a couple of women Tim wanted to talk to, and by the time he'd plucked up the courage, the rest of the gang were making plans to leave. Tim didn't want to leave, as he was beginning to enjoy himself, but finding himself among a group of total strangers didn't appeal and he made his way back with the rest of them. He knew where the pub was and could come back at any time. Kate was having a coffee when they returned. She and Tim talked for an hour or so while the rest of the group either went to their rooms or left the house.

Tim finally said goodbye and made his way to Central Station to catch a train to Redfern. He didn't feel like walking as the grog had slowed him down a bit. Redfern was fairly deserted, a few stragglers here and there. It was getting on dark and Tim was hungry. He hated to have to go to a take-away food place so he went to a cafe in Abercrombie Street. At least the food there was halfway decent.

Charlie was home when Tim arrived, and was watching the News. The body that had been found was now making the headlines. It was only a matter of time, Charlie surmised, before the police started tearing Redfern apart and not necessarily looking for the killer or killers.

Tim was getting sick of the grog and dope and decided to have a break when Charlie offered him a smoke the next morning.

“Not today, Charlie, I'll get immune to it. Besides, I've got a few things I have to get done.”

“Yeah, it's hard to smoke and get things done. I remember when Leo came round one morning. He was supposed
to go shopping, but I didn't know this. He got stoned and went and bought a carton for us. His woman came around a couple of hours later, almost broke my fuckin' door down and flogged him all the way down the street. She hates me now. Leo's not allowed to come here anymore.”

“I don't blame her, they've got a couple of kids,” said Tim.

“Well you can't blame me, I didn't do anything,” said Charlie defensively.

“I just wish they'd put their little ones first.”

Charlie had always looked out for the little ones and took offence at Tim's words. “What do ya mean? If we had the same treatment as whitefellas get, the kids would get what they want. Look at all the up-towners, how many give a fuck about Redfern blacks? Even after Keating's speech at the opening of the Indigenous People's Year, I could hear them saying, ‘them poor blacks in Redfern will get nothing'. This was both white and black fellas. Who's gonna trust them up-towners? They just don't care.” Charlie gestured angrily.

“Maybe I will have that smoke with you,” Tim said, as feelings of helplessness took over his body.

“It'll be alright, brother. We always survive,” said Charlie, realising that he'd triggered some unwanted emotions within Tim.

Tim and Charlie got stoned and Tim told Charlie a few secrets about himself. “I can make it rain,” he said. Then looking Charlie in the eye he added, “I've knocked over a man.”

“True Mroody?” Charlie asked disbelievingly.

“Yeah, he's dead. He was an evil man. I feel no guilt.”

“Why did you kill him?” Charlie asked.

“He was a rampant paedophile. Everybody was scared of him.”

Charlie looked at him and said, “Well, you'll have your job cut out here then.”

There was a knock at the door and two young fellas came in. They were looking for pot. “Gordon just got busted,” said the older one.

“It won't be the last one,” Charlie suggested. “Naah, brothers. I've put mine away and won't be pulling it out until things have cooled down.” The boys looked a bit disappointed as they left talking about other options.

A police car cruised past, the fourth one in half an hour. Tim felt like yelling out “Go and look for the real killers”, but refrained. His anger sometimes got the better of him and logical decisions were beginning to wear thin.

“I'm gonna get some beer and have a drink with the boys,” said an on-edge Tim. “Can I get a little bit of smoko off ya?”

“Yeah, brother.” Charlie fumbled in his pocket and handed Tim a small quantity. “I bet you come back none the wiser.”

Tim walked up the street towards the pub.

He met a couple of Koories around his age who were in the process of throwing in for a carton of beer. They were a few dollars short and Tim kicked in. They headed to the pub and returned a short while later.

Craig and Jacko, as Tim learned they were called, were a bit worse for wear. Their eyes were bloodshot and they were hangin' out. Once inside their house, they were joined by others who watched the proceedings. Tim didn't mind but Craig and Jacko had strict procedures as to who could and who couldn't drink. The ones that were rejected by them, Tim offered a drink. Soon the room had six men and two women in it. Tim slowly brought the subject around to Koories and the land. He asked indirect questions not
wanting to seem patronising, but Craig, who seemed the most agile thinker amongst them, quickly landed a broadside at Tim about land rights.

“That's what we want, our land back. We're fucked without it. It's the source of all of our problems,” Craig said aggressively. “It's got me fucked how whitefellas get away with murderin' and thievin' when all they talk about is Christianity.”

“Maybe it wasn't God who came with them,” Tim said.

Craig laughed which made Tim uneasy. He was not looking for a fight. They talked, almost oblivious to everyone else except Jacko.

“I believe in God, man—love, peace and all that—but when you wake every day in a depression, you begin to say ‘what fuckin' God'?” said Craig emphatically.

“I believe in God and I question all of those things too,” replied Tim.

“I used to be a Christian, go to church and worship and all that. Got on friendly with one of the girls, and the bastards didn't like it. Made me feel real unwelcome. So I said, ‘you can stick your Christianity right up your arse'.” Craig gestured with his middle finger almost up Tim's nose.

Tim reckoned the conversation was getting too heavy and pulled out his pot.

“They won't call you a Christian, drinking and smoking dope all the time,” Jacko remarked to Craig.

“I was kicked out. Fuck you,” Craig said as he and Jacko simultaneously do a high-pitched “Yeeeeaaahhh”.

“We're all pagans, just pass that fuckin' joint,” joked Jacko.

The beer was almost finished when Tim decided to call it a day. It was starting to turn out like Charlie said. He was beginning to question himself and what he really wanted.

He made his way back to Charlie's and the reception he got from Charlie was, “I told you so. Them fellas have been like that for years. Don't expect them to know what they want.”

“It all got turned around. They're not exactly optimistic about the future,” Tim said grimly. “I thought they might be a little more on the up.”