The Boys from Binjiwunyawunya (6 page)

‘Ahh bloody Les,' laughed Mumbi. ‘And how's he going, down in Sydney?'

‘He's goin' all right.'

‘That's good. Give him our regards next time you hear from him.'

Murray shrugged and smiled. ‘You might be seeing him yourselves before long — with a bit of luck.'

Murray began to tell the boys what Les had told him over the phone about Percy Kilby and the trouble he was causing Price Galese. He stressed that Kilby was a bit of a no-good egg and getting rid of him would be absolutely no skin off anybody's nose. He then explained Les's plan and emphasised that if they were interested they would have to be prepared to leave early Thursday as there was a time factor involved. He didn't say how much Les was offering them through his boss, wanting to see if they were interested first. When he'd finished the boys were still staring at him but the intense, probing looks had now turned to one of gradually increasing amusement... almost laughter.

‘So,' said Tjalkalieri, a chuckle rippling through his body. ‘You want us to go down to Sydney and sing this Kilby fella a bit of a song, eh?'

‘Yep, that's right. Les wants you to go down and sing
him to death. Point the old bone at him. You've done it plenty of times up here. Do you reckon you could do it in a big city?'

‘Can a duck quack?' asked Yarrawulla.

‘Fair enough.'

‘I hate to sound mercenary,' said Tjalkalieri. ‘But we do have to eat. How much is Les prepared to pay us to do this? If we should all agree.'

‘Yeah,' agreed Yarrawulla. ‘Your brother's a good bloke and all that. But when it comes to parting with a bit of gilt, Les wouldn't give you frostbite if he owned Antarctica.'

‘I've got to agree with you there,' laughed Murray, ‘but he said whatever you want. Thirty, forty grand.' Murray gave his shoulders a bit of a shrug. ‘Whatever.'

‘Forty grand. Shit!' Tjalkalieri smiled at the others. ‘This Price Galese must want this Kilby bloke out of the way badly.'

‘He does. But like I said, if you're interested you've got to be ready to go on Thursday.' Murray drained his bottle of Fourex. ‘Anyway, why don't you talk it over amongst yourselves. I'll go and get another beer.'

Murray went to the double fridge in the kitchen, got himself a Fourex and sat back down while Tjalkalieri, Mumbi and Yarrawulla rattled away between them in their native tongue. Murray could speak quite a few native dialects but he knew absolutely nothing about this one. So he sat there sipping his beer in silence while the others earnestly discussed his offer. After a few minutes the discussion ceased and once more the three pairs of piercing blue eyes were studying him closely.

‘Well. What do you reckon?' asked Murray, returning their stares.

Tjalkalieri nodded his head slowly for a moment before answering. ‘Yeah, we've thought it over. We'll do it. Mind you, it sounds like this one could be quite a bit of mucking around — and we're not real keen on having to go all the way down to Sydney. But we'll do it. Fifty grand though, Murray. We feel this Price Galese fellow can afford it.'

‘Fair enough. Fifty grand it is.'

Tjalkalieri raised his bottle and the others did the same. ‘Well. Here's to Sydney,' he said.

‘Yeah. And Percy Kilby,' said Murray, raising his Fourex also.

‘It'll be the late Percy Kilby around this time next week,' added Mumbi, with a bit of a sinister smile. Murray smiled back and they finished their beers.

As if on cue, the girls reappeared and resumed whatever they were doing amongst the pots and pans. Koodja took away the empties on the coffee table and replaced them with four fresh beers, giving Murray an odd but sweet smile as she put his Fourex down in front of him.

‘Brascoe still in the same place?' asked Murray, getting to his feet a couple of seconds after she went back into the kitchen.

‘Yeah. Down the corridor, second on your left,' replied Yarrawulla.

Murray clomped down the corridor, used the toilet, then sat back down in the lounge room and continued drinking.

‘So what's Les got in mind about us getting down to Sydney?' asked Tjalkalieri. ‘I suppose we'll have to drive up to Mt Isa and catch a plane.'

‘No. He mentioned something about that old airstrip the Yanks built out near Boulia. I think he's going to charter a plane and fly out there and pick you up.'

‘Jesus. This is very Frederick Forsyth, isn't it?' said Mumbi.

‘Who?'

‘Don't worry about it, Muzz.'

‘Do you want to ring Les now and tell him we've agreed?' Tjalkalieri nodded towards the phone on an old desk out in the corridor.

Murray took a quick glance at his watch. ‘No, it's a bit early yet. He's probably down having a few beers. I'll wait till after tea.'

‘Yeah. It should be ready soon. Hey Numidi. How long before tea's ready?'

‘About fifteen minutes,' came a voice from the kitchen.

‘Lovely,' smiled Tjalkalieri. ‘Time for another one.'

They finished another beer and Numidi called them into the kitchen where they spread themselves around the old cedar table, with Murray in the guest spot at the end facing Tjalkalieri.

‘What're we havin' anyway?' asked Murray, undoing his napkin.

‘Ohh, I shot a few fruit bats the other night,' said Mumbi. ‘We've stewed them up with some witchetty grubs and yams and a few wild berries. Got a big jar of sugar ants there for dessert too.'

‘Sounds nice.'

‘Yeah Murray,' smiled Yarrawulla. ‘Like the bloke said in that movie. You can live on it — but it tastes like shit. Try some of this instead.'

Yarrawulla had no sooner spoken when one of the girls placed a steaming bowl of potato, leek and smoked-salmon chowder down in front of him. Another girl brought in a huge wooden bowl brimming with crisp caesar salad which went in the middle of the table, and another brought in two chilled bottles of Clarendon Estate 1979 Beeren Auslese which went on one side of the salad, and a bottle of Wolf Blass 1974 Shiraz which went on the other.

‘Hey this soup isn't half bad,' said Murray, taking a liberal slurp from his bowl.

‘Yeah, it's tasty,' smiled Mumbi, reaching over and filling Murray's glass with the Beeren Auslese.

Murray took another couple of slurps of soup and a large mouthful of wine. ‘Shit this wine's sweet. Bloody nice though.' ‘Yeah,' said Tjalkalieri. ‘Generally Victorian wines aren't that sweet. Actually, it'd be better as a dessert wine. But you know what us ignorant dumb savages are like. We go for all that sweet sticky shit.'

‘Yeah,' said Murray, taking another mouthful. ‘Still, I suppose this stuff 11 do when you run out of sweet sherry.'

Murray finished his soup just in time for Mammanduru to place his entree in front of him. Tiny freshwater lobsters, barbecued to perfection in chilli and garlic, on a bed of fluffy rice and chopped, fresh coriander. The meat literally fell off the shells and melted in your mouth.

‘Jesus, these bloody yabbies are all right,' said Murray, chewing away with delight. ‘I'll have to get the recipe off you and give it to Elaine.'

‘How is Elaine these days?' asked Yarrawulla. ‘Still cooking up those ferocious meals like she does?'

‘Yeah, that's her all right. You'd think we had a team of sumo wrestlers livin' in the house. My two young blokes'll end up lookin' like Arnold Schwarzenegger by the time they leave school.'

Next came the main course. Fresh barramundi cutlets, stuffed with caviar and anchovies, in a saffron, cream and pernod sauce accompanied by more rice and crispy stir-fried vegetables. Once again, cooked to perfection. The girls had joined them at the table now with Koodja sitting next to Murray where she didn't say much but just smiled and made sure he had enough on his plate.

‘Jesus, where did you girls learn to cook like this?' asked Murray, smiling back at her as he wolfed down some more barramundi.

Nantjinin answered for Koodja who was smiling shyly into her food. ‘Tjalkalieri taught us,' she said.

‘Ah, I might have known. Well keep up tfc good work Chalky.'

‘Glad to see you're enjoying it, Murray. Though I suppose I should apologise offering you red wine with seafood.'

‘Yeah. Well I wasn't going to say anything. But seeing you've brought the subject up. It is a little galling having to drive over a thousand Ks through the wilderness then get served red wine with seafood. Still...' Murray took a mouthful of the Wolf Blass, ‘it's not a bad drop of the old claret all the same.'

‘Yes. It's not a bad... claret. Is it?' Tjalkalieri shook his head and smiled at the others.

It didn't take them all that long to polish off the fish — with Murray eating almost the equivalent of a whole barramundi on his own — and then the girls brought out dessert, which wasn't anything special. Wine trifle with homemade rockmelon ice-cream and banana, raspberry and paw-paw custard.

‘Hello,' said Murray, ‘I've got you this time. There's definitely sweet sherry in the bloody trifle.'

Tjalkalieri tilted his head and held up his hands apologetically. ‘Sorry about that, Muzz. But you know how it is. Old habits die hard.'

‘That's all right mate. I understand.'

After they'd finished eating, the girls cleared the table and Numidi brought out four freshly made mugs of Vienna coffee. The men sat there sipping and talking for a while till Murray glanced at his watch and eased his chair back from the table.

‘Well, it's getting on for half past seven,' he said, getting to his feet and licking some whipped cream off his top lip.

‘I might ring Les and tell him what's going on.'

‘You know where the phone is,' said Mumbi.

‘Yeah. I might give Elaine a ring too.'

Murray clomped down the corridor and did just that, talking to the kids as well and telling them he should be home some time tomorrow. Then he rang his brother in Sydney.

‘That you Murray?' said Les when he heard the STD pips.

‘Yeah. I'm out at Binjiwunyawunya now. How's things?'

‘Good. So you got there. How was the trip?'

‘Piece of piss.'

‘That's good. Anyway, what'd the boys say? Are they interested?'

‘Yeah, they're keen.'

‘Ahh. Bloody ripper.'

‘But they want fifty grand. They reckon your boss can afford it.'

‘Fifty! Shit. Oh well, don't matter. Tell them that's sweet.'

‘Okay. So what do you want to do?'

‘When are you heading back to Dirranbandi? Are you in any hurry to leave?'

Murray glanced towards the kitchen where he knew the huge fridge was jammed with Fourex and four beautiful young girls were cleaning up and probably not doing anything in particular after that. ‘Well... you know I don't like to be away from the family for too long. But I suppose I can hang around here a bit longer for you. Why, what's up?'

‘Well, I've got to sort out a few things down here tomorrow morning. Can you ring me from there say... two-thirty tomorrow?'

‘Sure. No worries. Do you want to speak to the boys yourself?'

‘No. I'll more than likely see them out at Boulia on Thursday. And you said they're keen to do it.'

‘Yeah. Chafing at the bit.'

‘Good. Well I'll let you go Muzz, and I'll hear from you tomorrow.'

‘Okay. See you then Les.'

‘See you, Muzz. Say hello to the boys for me. Hey! Have they got any sheilas staying there with them?'

‘Yeah reckon. Four top little sorts... I mean three.'

‘Ahh you lying prick. There's four there. No wonder you don't mind staying there — you cunt.'

‘I'll ring you tomorrow Les. See you then mate.'

‘Yeah, you bastard. And don't you forget.'

Murray was still laughing when he clomped back into the lounge room where the others were sipping Drambuies.

‘And how was your brother?' asked Tjalkalieri after Murray had sat down and picked up the liqueur glass full of Drambuie one of the girls had left for him.

‘He's good, Chalky. Said to say hello and all that. He was going to have a yarn to you but he reckons he'll be up here himself on Thursday. I've got to ring him at half past two tomorrow to make sure.'

‘Anything else?'

Murray glanced towards the four girls cleaning up in the kitchen and chuckled to himself. ‘No. That was about it.'

They sat there comfortably, the four of them, sipping their liqueurs and chatting about the coming events. Suddenly Murray got to his feet saying he'd better go out and feed Grungle, but Nantjinin called that they'd alredy given him a forequarter of lamb from the fridge and a litre of milk. Murray finished his Drambuie, got another Fourex, then sat back down in the lounge while the boys tried to figure out what they were going to do that evening. Get stoned and listen to some music, watch TV or throw a video on. Murray said it didn't worry him what they did as he'd been up since four, and after the long drive, the drinks and all that grouse food he was just about buggered. The boys, not really used to drinking and eating so much early in the week themselves, said that if he was going to have an early night they couldn't see themselves being too far behind him.

The girls had joined them by now, drinking Bacardis and Coke. Someone dropped a movie in the VCR and they all sat there talking and half watching the film. It was a real lemon. Some Australian show called
Bullamakanka
. The only thing remotely amusing in it was some boofheaded-looking bloke running around in a beret chasing after a pig called Matilda.

‘Fair dinkum,' said Tajlkalieri, disgust all over his face. ‘There ought to be law in this country to stop them from making movies like that. It's lower than the Pakistani basic wage.'

The girls had paired themselves off with the owners of the homestead by now, with Koodja sitting on a cushion on the floor near Murray's feet and looking him up and down every now and again with what seemed a bit more on her mind than whether he'd enjoyed tonight's meal and how his car went on the trip out. Eventually Murray stretched his arms out and let go with a cavernous yawn.