teeth were so dazzling and uniform, they had to be dentures.
Gary gulped. ‘So’s that all?’
The thug chuckled, leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head.
‘Just grab me a coffee please. There’s one fing we need to discuss before I go. How you answer will decide if you lose the ability to walk.’
‘What do you mean?’ Gary spluttered. ‘I’ve paid back all Jocko’s money, so what else is there?’
‘Mr Mackenzie has been patient wiff you. Other people in this town, pricks who are not as understanding, would have added interest to that debt. Or given you a good fucken hiding, you little maggot. But Mr MacKenzie, as you know, is a generous man. You made him wait a long time. He’s not used to being stuffed around by weasels like you, and he’s not pleased. So he wants you to do a little job for him. After that you’ll be square. How does that sound?’
‘That depends what it is, I guess.’
Jones shook his head slowly. ‘I’m afraid you have no choice. If you don’t agree I’m gonna do to your missus what got me locked away for my second stretch at Wolston. Understand?’ Jones’s mouth formed a broad smile – all lips and no teeth, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes shrunk to slits.
Gary began to shake, sweat beaded on his brow. Wolston was a prison for the scum of the Earth, rock spiders who raped women and molested kids. A holding pen for the dregs of society.
Jones stared out the window as the information sank into Gary’s brain.
‘That wife of yours is a hottie, much prettier than the dirty bitch I fucked in her pathetic little newsagency,’ said Jones. The brute’s eyes glittered with gleeful malevolence. He leaned closer and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. ‘Wanna know why she copped it?’
‘No, but I guess you’re going to tell me anyway.’
Gary cradled his head and rocked back and forth. A jabbing pain shot through his stomach, his head ached from the top of his skull to the bottom of his chin. An angry python had slithered down his neck and, any second now, he’d keel over, asphyxiated. Fuck, he could do with a drink.
‘Done the slag over cos she was giving me the come-on and then pretended she wasn’t. I don’t like deception. Just remember, one false move from you and your Maddie’s gonna be enjoying some sexy times wiff yours truly. I’d also be concerned about me own ‘elf if I was you. Now, where’s that fucken coffee. White wiff one, if you don’t mind.’
Gary buzzed the receptionist and ordered two coffees. While Gary was on the phone to Raewyn, Jones pulled out an ancient Gameboy and fiddled with the controls. The little handheld device bleeped and blipped – the break in communication was a welcome reprieve. He studied the childlike wonder playing across the enforcer’s face. Amazing how a violent yobbo could morph into a happy kid with just a simple computer game to distract him.
But then–
‘Jesus Christ!’ Jones roared. He jumped up and smashed the Gameboy on the floor. Shards of plastic flew everywhere. ‘That Donkey Kong cunt always fucks me over.’ A large vein protruded on the goon’s left temple, his pupils dilated wide, evil black buttons. His hands twitched by his sides.
Gary sat frozen, a wallaby in the headlights, his heart galloping so fast he thought he’d pass out. This is the end; the bastard is going to kill me in my own office.
Raewyn tapped on the door then pushed it open with her ample backside.
‘Coffee, gentlemen?’
‘Watch your step, Rae,’ Gary warned as she almost trod on a large piece of shattered Gameboy. ‘Mr Jones here just dropped his, ah, smartphone and I was about to clear away the mess. I’ll just need another fifteen minutes.’
‘No worries,’ said Raewyn. ‘Let me know if there’s anything else you need.’
Jones kept staring, but Gary refused to maintain eye contact. This was about the weirdest situation he’d ever been in. He had no idea how to play it. This was his turf, dammit, but the unwelcome visitor had the upper hand.
‘No need to shit yer pants. I do get carried away wiff me computer games. That’s about the fifth one of those fuckers I’ve destroyed this year but what the hell, I can get a new one any time. Nintendo must love people like me, hey?’
‘I guess.’ Gary hid his trembling hands under the desk. ‘What the hell does Jocko want me to do?’
‘Nah, can’t say,’ sneered Jones, arms folded across his massive chest. ‘That’d be stealing Mr Mackenzie’s thunder. He’s expecting you at his place tonight 10.30pm exactly. Not before. And be sober. He wants you to understand all the details. If you don’t show on time, I’ll hunt you down and hurt you. And then Maddie. It’s so much easier when you cooperate, but not as much fun for me. All clear, fuckstick?’
‘Yes,’ said Gary, exhaling in resignation. ‘I’ll be there.’
Gary’s mobile beeped. A text from Foss lit up the screen:
Meet at the pub tonight?
Gary replied:
Yes pls Foss. I need ur opinion on something. 7 at Castaways ok?
Foss:
Cool. C ya then.
Gary figured Foss would say to go to the cops but hoped the clever prick would have a better alternative. Getting the cops involved would be a recipe for suicide. If they came down on Jocko and Jones, there’d be other heavies lined up ready to take the field. He didn’t know the extent of Jocko’s reach, but it was no secret the bastard had plenty of muscle to call on if needed. The merciless bikie gangs, for one.
Please Foss, come up with something…
At 3.05pm Raewyn buzzed Gary in his office.
‘Mr and Mrs Romashkin are here. Shall I show them in?’
‘No, I’ll come out.’ Paperwork lay strewn over the desk. ‘But could you come in and give my office a quick tidy? I never got around to picking up the bits of Mr Jones’s … phone.’
‘Sure thing, but you owe me one.’
He wondered if Rae would ever stop flirting with him. The banter always brightened his day but he’d never go there, he knew that. And neither would she.
The couple sat in reception on a black leather sofa by the water cooler, sipping cold water from tiny paper cups. Gary ushered them into the meeting room where they could talk privately. He knew to keep small talk to a minimum; the Russians came all this way to buy cars, not talk about the stinking weather or the surfing conditions at Greenmount. He explained the mandatory crap about terms and conditions, signed a few legal documents and handed Ivan two sets of keys.
‘For you and Mrs Romashkin. I’ll have the girls’ cars delivered by close of business.’
‘Me
