The Crush (17 page)

Legend had it that jackals once hunted prey for lions. If that was true, then Tom Bentley was one such jackal. A loner who sniffed around large packs of tough kids but was never accepted by them, he was ignored by most students at Bankstown Central High. This rejection only poisoned him with bitterness and he could be seen in the shadows mumbling about getting even with everyone.

So it came as no surprise to find out his loyalty was easily bought. For fifty bucks, he was asked to break into a locker overnight, plant a bag of ecstasy then squeal to a couple of Year 7s. Tom got greedy and asked for one hundred dollars. He got seventy-five and pulled off the job perfectly. The kid whose locker it was was hauled before the principal,
suspended and ostracised by most of the school. Perfect except for one thing: there was a spy in the lion's den.

Rhino speared a hand against the library wall to stop Tom escaping. Grover blocked the other exit, while Hazem and Chris took point to make sure no teachers were watching.

‘So, you're the guy who helped ruin my life,' Matt said.

‘I haven't done anything,' Tom said, trying to look defiant but sounding more weaselly.

‘I've been told you were paid seventy-five bucks to put drugs in my locker.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Then you better start remembering or you might find a surprise in your own locker by the end of the week.'

Tom spilled the beans to Matt and his mates first before being dragged in to tell the Dragon Lady. He confessed everything, apart from who had paid him to plant the drugs. Matt knew anyway, but Tom was more scared of Blackwell than he was of the Dragon Lady. The jackal was expelled from school that same afternoon and Matt taken off suspension. The Mongrels instantly reinstated him as captain.

‘This isn't over, is it?' the Dragon Lady asked Matt, before he left her office.

He held onto the door handle and looked out her window. ‘I don't think so.'

‘I can help, you know.'

‘I know, but there are rules about that sort of thing.'

Later, the guys were setting up for footy practice in a local park when a car beeped them from the street. One of them elbowed Matt and said the occupants were looking for him.

‘Mum?' he asked, walking over to the yellow Nissan. ‘What's wrong?'

‘Grab your gear. You're coming with me.'

‘But I've got training. The grand final's next week.'

‘Don't argue with me. Grab your gear and get in the car.'

Reluctantly, he did so. His mum sat in the front passenger's seat and a pregnant woman in her thirties occupied the driver's seat. She had curly strawberry-blonde hair, thousands of freckles, gold earrings and pale white skin. She started the engine then did a U-turn.

‘Matthew, this is Julie Sanderson. Julie, this is my son, Matthew.'

‘Hello,' Julie said frostily, looking into her rear
view mirror. She studied his hair and facial features with shock.

‘G'day,' Matt answered slowly. ‘Where are we going?'

‘We'll show you when we get there,' his mum said.

He listened as the two women small-talked. It was obvious they hadn't caught up for years, but they knew each other well. Soon, he realised it was a one-on-one conversation and he nervously turned his attention to the increasing number of suburbs they were travelling through. Looming in the distance, he could see the Sydney central business district blurred with brown afternoon smog.

Shadows engulfed the car as it crawled through traffic under the city skyscrapers. The conversation petered out and everyone was left to their own thoughts. Finally, Mrs Sanderson turned into busy George Street, drove halfway along it, indicated, braked then switched the Nissan's hazard lights on. The drivers of several cars banked behind her hit their horns then angrily drove around her.

Matt wondered why they had stopped there. To his left was Martin Place, a large paved area in the heart of Sydney where many people enjoyed taking their lunchbreak. It was filled with pigeons, flower sellers, cyclists, banks and the old sandstone GPO
building. Fresh wreaths lay at the feet of two metal soldiers guarding the Cenotaph, dedicated to men and women who had died in the line of duty.

‘Can somebody please tell me what's going on?' Matt asked.

His mother reached down behind her legs and pulled out a cardboard box. It was the same box he had delivered to that house in Chatswood!

‘You recognise this, don't you?'

‘Yes. But how—'

‘Who gave it to you?'

‘Uncle Jack. Why?'

‘You don't have an Uncle Jack.'

‘Yes I do. On Dad's side.'

‘Did your father tell you that?'

‘Yeah.'

His mum looked at Mrs Sanderson as if that had confirmed both their suspicions. She sighed. ‘Matthew, your father's an only child. He has no brothers or sisters.'

‘But I met Uncle Jack. He owns a cafe over in Marrickville.'

‘Then your father lied to you.'

‘Huh? Why?'

‘To use you.'

‘For what?'

‘To deliver this box. It's from him, isn't it?'

He nodded. ‘He said it was a birthday present for a lady who lives in Chatswood.'

Julie shifted in her seat.

‘Well, Julie is that lady. But it's no birthday present.'

Confused, Matt watched as his mum opened the box. He was even more bewildered when he saw what was inside. Next to a plastic toy baby there was a laughing skull mask and a card with a picture of a stork and the word
Congratulations
. On the card was written:
Thinking of you at this happy time. Sorry I can't make it to your child's birth, but I'll be there when he turns one.

‘It's a threat from your father,' his mum explained, seeing his confusion. ‘That's the same kind of mask he used to wear.'

‘But why?'

‘What's your father told you about the day he was arrested?'

‘That his mates squealed on him and the cops chased him across Sydney. Why?'

Mrs Sanderson raised her hand to her mouth as his mum shook her head. ‘I knew I couldn't trust him.' Twisting in her seat, his mother pointed along Martin Place. ‘See that bank right up there? Near the fountain? That's the last bank your father robbed.'

‘Is it? Cool.'

‘No, it is not “cool”. Your father nearly killed someone near there.'

‘Killed?' he gasped. ‘But dad said he never hurt anyone.'

‘It's another lie, Matthew. Can't you see? He's lied to you from the start.'

Matt wanted to yell and defend his father. His mum had always been jealous of him. But this time it felt different. He knew she wasn't kidding.

‘One evening, your father snuck into that bank via a hole in the roof and camped in the ceiling. He planned on stealing the money during the night while no one was working. But he didn't count on two cleaners being rostered on that night. While he waited for them to finish vacuuming, he fell asleep and didn't wake up until the next morning, just as the bank was opening.

‘Desperate, he jumped down, knocked out a guard and stole as much money as he could. He ran out of the building in front of two cops, who chased after him on foot. One of them grabbed him and tackled him to the ground. But your father managed to kick one in the face and steal his gun. Thinking he was some kind of movie star, he pointed it at both of them and warned them to drop all their weapons.'
His mum gritted her teeth. ‘The police officers did as they were told and your father pistol-whipped them both. He left them bleeding and unconscious. That evil man didn't care if they lived or died. He just ran.

‘It wasn't long before other cops arrived. Your dad tried to escape along Pitt Street but two cop cars chased him back here to Martin Place. He ran all the way to where we are now only to see more cops arriving.

‘Trapped at both ends, he ran into the GPO building. Stupid idiot. He tried to get out the back but found himself in the toilets. He came screaming back inside and started waving his guns at staff and customers, threatening to hurt them if they didn't show him the way out—'

‘I was so scared,' Mrs Sanderson said, hiding her eyes behind a dark pair of sunglasses. ‘I thought I was going to die. I was talking to my boss when your father burst into the room and pointed his guns at us. He was panicking and that made us panic. His hands were shaking so badly that I was afraid his gun would go off accidentally. He screamed at us to get on the floor. When we weren't fast enough, he started pushing us head-first onto the carpet. Old ladies too. Just
slam
! He didn't care who he hurt.

‘He finally grabbed my boss and yelled at him to show him the back exit. As they were hurrying across the room, a sixteen-year-old boy tried to stop your father. It was completely stupid. Your dad was armed. But the boy jumped at him anyway. He thought he could save everyone's lives. Your father simply threw him to the ground and …' Mrs Sanderson flinched as if she was hearing the bullet again, ‘it was horrible. The boy screamed as he bled in front of us. I felt sick. One lady actually threw up. The boy wouldn't stop screaming. Your father threatened to shoot him again if he didn't shut up. That went for the rest of us too.'

Mrs Sanderson took a deep steadying breath. ‘My boss tried to help the boy just as the cops made it to the front door. They heard the gunshot and took cover outside. Realising he didn't have much time left, your father grabbed the nearest person to him and stuck a gun to their head.

‘That person was me.'

Her breathing started to become raspy. ‘I started crying. I couldn't help it. I was afraid he was going to kill me. He had already shot one person. The more I tried to control myself, the more upset I became, though. Finally, your father threatened he really would do it if I didn't be quiet. Then he ordered me
to show him the way out and I took him out the back. But the cops had already found the exit.

‘Becoming more agitated, your father decided to take a risk. He dragged me outside with him and warned the cops he'd shoot me if they didn't drop their guns. I started crying again and praying that I'd be okay. I was only eighteen years old. I had barely finished school. All I could think about was seeing my mum, my dad, my sister and my boyfriend again.

‘Thankfully, the cops dropped their weapons. I thought that would be the end of it but your dad shoved me into a car. He ordered me to drive as he sat in the back seat behind me. He was using me as a shield just in case the cops changed their minds.'

Mrs Sanderson slid a finger under her sunglasses to wipe away a tear. Heather asked if she was okay and Mrs Sanderson nodded.

‘So there I was, thinking I was going to die any minute. We drove out of the city towards the west, with five cop cars chasing after us. Your father kept screaming at me to drive faster even though my foot was already flat on the floor. At those speeds, I was afraid we'd crash—or worse, hit another car. But somehow we survived only to run into a roadblock minutes later.

‘Your dad saw it at the last second and grabbed the wheel from me. He spun it around but lost control. The car just missed slamming sideways into a wall but hit a parked motorbike. It shattered everywhere as your father yelled at me to turn into a sidestreet.

‘He took over the driving then. He pushed me into the passenger seat and warned me against jumping out of the door. I would have, too. I wanted so desperately to get away from him. I hated him touching me let alone sitting right next to me.

‘The cops were less than fifteen seconds behind us by then. Your father was fully panicking, and for a moment I thought he was about to cry. I had no sympathy for him, though. He'd shot a boy.

‘We sped past a road sign that pointed to Campbelltown. It triggered off something inside of him because he hit the accelerator and that's where we headed.

‘About five minutes later, he pulled up outside a house and ran inside. He completely forgot about me and I ran towards the police speeding down the street. The next thing I knew, there were cops all over the place, yelling at your father to come outside. He didn't at first until a woman and her son ran screaming from a garage. He was chasing after them, crying and saying he wanted to hold his son. The
cops grabbed the woman and baby and hid them behind a car as they ordered your father to give himself up. He ignored them and kept babbling about his son. But the cops threatened they'd shoot him if he took another step towards his family. Trapped, your father nearly started firing but he heard your screaming and broke down. He collapsed onto his knees and dropped his guns. The cops quickly grabbed him, disarmed him and handcuffed him while they had the chance. That was the last I saw of him until the trial.

‘My testimony helped put him away for fifteen years,' she added, replacing the fear in her voice with anger. ‘That fact alone has helped me rebuild my life since he nearly destroyed it. Even though I thought he should have been given life for what he did to me and that boy at the post office, I was happy that I would never have to see or hear from that man again. He had no compassion for any other person.

‘I thought that part of my life was forgotten. That was until I found this box. I thought I'd escaped from him, but clearly I was wrong. He's destroyed my life once. Now he's aiming to do it again.

‘But this time I'm not going to let him. And you're going to help me.'