Thunder Road (6 page)

Out by the gloom of Rangitoto, I could see the red and blue lights of small boats moving slowly in the channel.

Wes turned to Devon. ‘Are you happy now, my boy?’

‘Yeah. I’m ecstatic,’ Devon snapped back.

‘Ecstasy,’ Wes said wistfully. ‘The height of happiness. The Mount Olympus of personal pleasure.’

He smiled and looked at Devon and me. ‘Ecstasy to you, Devon, may be just a little pill which lets you go on and on, but real ecstasy, that’s something different. I have an image of
ecstasy and it goes back to the time when I was about your age. Confident like you, certain I had the world by the balls. It’s never gone away, not in fifty years.’

Devon fired me a ‘here we go again’ look. Wes closed in on me. ‘In my memory there is this simpleton. This idiot. He could be nine, he could be twenty-nine. They have a sort of
immortality
, simple people: a fake one. This idiot is standing on a gate at the top of a hill, and he’s waving a flag. Waving a flag in the sun…. When I looked at this boy’s face, in it I saw a happiness I could never reach. I saw rapture. This kid was just a lightning rod for pleasure. Sucking it down from the ether. It made me sad. What a price for ecstasy.’

‘Wes, dope can do that man. OK, you see it as a crutch,’ Devon chipped in. ‘I see it as a ladder….’

‘It’s just a weak substitute. This fellow was on another planet.’

‘It’s a vehicle,’ said Devon. ‘Dope takes you to that planet….’

‘Yes,’ said Wes, ‘but there’s a price. You kids don’t realise that until too late.’

Wes reached out and put his hand on Devon’s neck. It was a delicate movement and he slowly drew a little medallion out of Devon’s shirt.

‘What’s this, Trace?’

I had a look. It meant nothing to me. ‘I dunno. A black
tadpole
and a white tadpole.’

He laughed. ‘Good guess. It is the Korean symbol of Yin and Yang. It was the first present I ever gave to you, wasn’t it, Devon?’

‘The only one, I think.’

‘Ungrateful young pup! This symbol represents the
relationship
… the duality of good and evil. There is never one without the other. Notice in the middle of the white tadpole there is a little black spot, and in the middle of the black a white….’

‘I thought those were the eyes,’ said Devon.

Wes looked at him suspiciously. ‘I can never tell when you are being facetious or merely ignorant. No, they remind us that in the centre of any evil endeavour there is always some good, and vice versa. In the middle of any
so-called
good action there is a little bad. Something to muse on, eh boys?’

Devon tucked it back in his shirt. ‘They’re deep, those chinks.’

I winced, but I sort of admired him too. He was rude, but he wouldn’t put up with being lectured to. I had something to learn there.

As we drove back, Devon asked, ‘What did you make of that?’

‘He’s freaky. Is he always like that?’

Devon nodded. ‘Never changes.’

‘He seems a bit sort of you know … inhuman.’

‘A bit! He’s a fucken psycho. He’s the scariest dude on the planet.’

‘How’d you meet him?’

Devon paused for a moment, as if rehearsing an answer. ‘I met him in the bus depot when I first came to Aucks. I was hanging with the streeties. You know … glue, stiffing drunks, breaking into parked cars.’

‘Jesus!’

‘Yeah, I’ve done some shit, OK. It’s a tough city when you’re fifteen, no money, no home.’ He was pissed at my response.

‘So where did Wes fit in?’

‘He found me, out of it one night, sprawled out on a bench. Took me home. Hooked me up with this job.’

‘How did he do that?’

‘Well, Wes is like … connected you know, someone in the newspaper owed him. It just took a phone call. I’ve been Jimmy
Olsen, cub reporter for the
Daily Planet
, ever since. Superman in the weekends.’

‘Shit, that was a lucky break.’

Devon laughed coldly. ‘I paid for it, don’t you worry. There’s always payback.’ He paused, as if remembering. ‘If there’s one thing he’s taught me, it’s that. Nothing’s for nothing.’

IT MUST HAVE been a month or so later that Devon’s
question
came. I had tried to put it at the back of my mind. I came home from work to see this cute little truck outside the house. It was a red Ford F100 pick-up. The sort you see in movies about wholesome farmers in the midwest. It wasn’t new but had a real spruced-up look. Devon was waiting for me on the front steps.

‘Where did that come from?’

‘The auction.’

‘But where did the money come from?’

‘Smoke money. It’s cool. It cost nineteen hundred. I nearly got it for fifteen but these surfies began to bid against me at twelve and wouldn’t let go. The bastards. They knew I wanted it. It’s like poker you know, the auction. I was at the point where you say “I’ll see ya”. It would have been good to see whether they had the money but I couldn’t risk it, I had my heart set on it.’

‘What sort of mill?’

He lifted the bonnet and propped it open. There was this gleaming motor inside.

‘A 350-inch V8. A modern one, overhead cam, four barrel, Holley carb. You should hear it at speed, it sings.’

‘So what’s happening?’ I asked, thinking about all those dope plants sitting there in the patch that Devon had stumbled on.

He knew what I meant. ‘Harvest’s got to be in the next week, ten days. Any later and it’ll be gone. Right now it’ll be in full bud.’

‘Where are you going to dry it all out?’

‘That’s all covered.’ His voice changed. ‘What I want to hear from you is,’ there was a long pause, ‘
are you in
?’

So there it was, out in the open, like we had already discussed it. We never had. Too big to talk about. So much rested on those three little words. ‘Are you in?’ More than the money or the risk, it was a pathway. A new direction.

Dare I leap?

Devon swung up into the cab and lit a smoke. He waited. I leaned over the shiny red mudguard, catching my vague, distorted reflection. I looked up and down the quiet street, at Mrs Jacques’ old white bungalow and at our bedroom window. Then I turned to Devon and thought about the new life he had given me.

I nodded.

For the next few days the paint shop became a vaguely
remembered
film: my past life. Nothing mattered there. All my old interests and routines disappeared. They could sack me if they wanted, I had been chosen for something bigger than that. This person, Devon, had chosen me, Trace, to help him pull off this amazing scam. Mixing paint and staring into space didn’t cut it.

I longed to be there, sawing down ganja trees, swapping bags of dope for bags of money. Being a player. That was the world I wanted entry into. The last remnants of the old world were uprooted and now, in its place, was this vision, impossibly rich and colourful.

First thing was to organise the details of ‘Operation Herb’ as we called it. We drove up to spy out the land and to get an idea of what to expect. Devon drove fast. We had all the juiced-up
exuberance of party goers. I kept running through scenarios of what we would do when… .

‘I guess the big problem will be getting it all to the road?’

‘Yeah, even with both of us going flat tack it’ll still take a couple of hours.’

As we tore up the big hill just out of Waiwera, I caught the reflection of the moon in the Puhoi River.

‘A full moon may not be the best time to do this op.’

‘It’ll help us walk in without torches,’ Devon countered. ‘If there are people in the bush … well, that’s important.’

People in the bush
, I thought. Hell, neither of us had discussed that scenario.

‘Will we be able to get a couple of hours undisturbed?’

‘It’ll be touch and go at this time of year. I bet they check it every night.’

‘Maybe they’ll have a guard there.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Why?’

‘Being caught on location by the feds in a plantation that size would have real serious consequences. I’m talking years inside. The courts really make an example of the big growers. It’s a P.R. thing, you know, “the rule of law.”’

‘If there
are
guards we’ll just have to take them out.’ My fake heroic voice.

Devon would have none of it. ‘Oh yeah! Like how?’

‘Tranquilliser dart guns will do the trick. Not much noise and twenty minutes or so to go hard.’

‘You’ve been watching too many animal programmes on the box. Besides, you know those darts often kill the animals. They don’t show you that.’

‘Bullshit, they know how big a dose to go for. It’s based on
the animal’s weight.’

‘A lot of people think that, Trace.’ Devon glanced at me with a condescending, take-the-piss smile. ‘That’s just to make the viewers feel good. They’re wild things … they die of shock.’

There was a silence for a while until Devon broached
something
else.

‘I think, when we’ve got this dope safely stashed,’ he said, ‘I’ll set up a team of motivated salesmen. We should place ourselves one step removed from the dealers … that’s where these things always come unstuck. It’s the point of sale every time.’

‘You have to swap dak for money at some time. That’s when you’re vulnerable,’ I replied, like I knew it all.

‘Trace. I’ve given a lot of thought to this. I’ve balanced out the trust and the self-protection angles. The dak is given at one time and place and the payment is picked up at another. A completely separate one.’

‘What’s to stop the buyer from just ripping you off?’

‘Greed.’

‘How? I don’t follow.’

‘You know. Killing the goose that laid the golden egg? Well, the idea is this. Sure, he gets a kilo for nix at an agreed price. If he never shows up again, we’re down a few bags. But he’s lost his place at the money trough. The only person who would give that up would be a really dumb bastard, and we don’t want any of them, otherwise we’re in all sorts of trouble.’

We drove for another ten minutes until we came to a turn-off, Mangatutae Road.

‘It’s not far from here, Trace.’

‘Good name.’

‘What?’

‘Mangatutae Road.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘I don’t know what it means all together but separately the words say
shit creek
.’

‘So we’re headed up shit creek, eh?’

‘Whoa….’

He pulled the truck over. Up ahead we could see a ute parked on the side of the road.

‘I don’t like the look of that.’

‘Growers?’

‘Could be. There’s no houses close to here. Growers or hunters?’

‘Both maybe?’

‘Well, either way, they’ll be armed all right.’

‘Shall we risk it?’ I asked.

‘Shit no. We’ll park up and wait for them to go. It’ll give us a chance to see who we’re dealing with.’

‘Back up man, there was a gateway at that cow paddock. We can get the truck off the road.’

‘I guess the chance of a farmer being out at this time is fairly slim.’

We backed up. I opened the gate and walked in front of the truck, guiding it carefully to where the paddock was obscured from the road. The grass was damp and slippery underfoot and the cows regarded us warily as we crawled by. Sitting in the low manuka scrub on top of the bank, we could see the ute clearly in the moonlight.

‘I wonder if there’s anyone in it? If there was they’ll have seen that whole manoeuvre.’

‘Ifs and buts, man. What’s the time, Trace?’

‘Eleven-thirty.’

‘If they’re not back by three I reckon we should piss off. The
farmer’ll be getting these ladies in at about four thirty and it’ll take us at least an hour … in and out.’

‘I wonder if I should sneak down and check that ute out?’

‘Too risky. There are three hours to go. I reckon we just wait it out.’

We lay in the manuka at the top of the cutting, smoking and talking softly. I kept watch. Devon made a bit of a bed for himself. He was philosophical.

‘If it goes wrong at least we tried. I just know now that tonight’s the night. Tomorrow it’ll be all over.’

‘Jesus, what’ve I got myself into?’

‘Better than sitting at Mrs Jacques’ watching Sergei clip his toenails.’

‘Yeah? Waiting around for a bunch of homicidal dope
growers
to stagger out of the bush?’

Devon laughed.

It was a warm night and the air was full of that grassy smell of cows’ breath. Sweet and nauseating. Devon was asleep. How could anyone go to sleep at a time like this? Every filament of my brain was buzzing with possibilities. I had this feeling that you have just before the race or the big game starts. Your body full of expectation.

Slipping away, I managed to work my way along the top of the bank towards the red ute. It didn’t seem the right thing to let it go without at least taking its rego number. I took my time,
making
sure I made no noise. Every now and then my hands would rest on some tiny gorse plant and I had to suppress a squawk. I bunched the sleeves of my coat down to protect them.

At a hundred metres I could make out the number plate. I wished I had brought a pen to write it down. I would just have to memorise it now. As I turned back to where Devon lay snoozing
I heard a noise and froze. A black dog charged out of the bush. It headed straight for me. I braced myself for the onslaught.

‘Heel, Nigger!’ a clear call bellowed out. The dog stopped in its tracks then loped back to the ute, surrendering to the voice.

I raised my head. I could make out three men loading stuff on to the back of the truck. Whatever it was, it looked quite heavy. Their party was made up of two big guys and a smaller one. I couldn’t see their faces but saw what might be a tattoo on one man’s neck as he lit a smoke.

In less than a minute the three men had loaded up and then squeezed into the cab. The dog leapt on the back without a command.

I dropped down flat as they crawled past with only their park lights on. As soon as they were clear I jumped down onto the road and ran back to where I guessed Devon was sleeping.

‘Devon! Come on man, let’s go!’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Let’s go … they’re gone and they have taken a bunch of bags with them too.’

‘What stuff?’

‘Dope, I guess. I couldn’t tell.’

Devon crashed his way down the slope. He was a person who prided himself on his agility but it was difficult to maintain that here. The two of us walked briskly back to where the ute had been parked.

‘It’s not going to be easy to find on such a dark night, but here goes.’

We clambered up the bank and over a derelict fence. Devon squeezed into the dense forest canopy, pushing aside the
creepers
and clambering over fallen trees that blocked our path.

‘Are you sure this is the way?’

‘I’m making for the ridge … then I’ll follow it to the fork and head off to the south. I found it before, I can do it again.’

It was bewildering, pushing along in the darkness as Devon crashed his way through bush that seemed to have been
undisturbed
for decades. I followed blindly on his heels. How easy it would be to get lost in the bush at night. Devon
seemed
to know where he was going, but that didn’t mean anything. A spiky vine whacked against my cheek and blood came immediately. Devon pushed on, not noticing that I had stopped. I had to run to catch up. Then, without warning, we were there.

A silver forest in the moonlight. A feathery grove of
marijuana
plants. Huge ones, like little trees, their sticky heads drooping slightly. Their lateral branches, thick with tiny buds, seemed to reach out to me. They were at once just weeds and then again they were like no other plants in the forest. Just little trees maybe, but charged with magic … they stood for so much. It was more than finding treasure. Some sticky heart of darkness. More than the money. More than the mind-bending power. They represented a promise that everything was going to be different. No longer were we a couple of no-account guys harassed by the cops, given all the bum jobs and tolerated as tame fools. We had position now. We had arrived.