Читать книгу Choices - Jeff Edwards - Страница 17

Dan

We landed at Sydney airport, and I was not surprised when the customs officers insisted on making a complete examination of my backpack as well as my board bag. I dragged all my personal possessions out and spread them over the counter while yet another officer ran a scanner over me to see if I had been in the proximity of any suspicious chemicals.

The three of us had been through customs a number of times and had learned that it was easiest to travel light. Temporary necessities like soap and toothpaste were purchased when we landed in Bali and abandoned before leaving. Why carry something when there was no need to?

So after sifting through my gear and finding only an assortment of dirty t-shirts and board shorts, the officials passed me through.

Outside customs, Sandy and the kids were waiting for me, and, after seeing Rick and Sam off to their connecting flight to Taree, we made our way home.

‘How was it out at Quambone?’ I asked.

‘About as expected,’ Sandy replied. ‘My sister-in-law is still the self-centred bitch she always was, and Dad’s as strong-minded as ever. He and Bruce are still arguing about the cost of running Bruce’s chopper and were at one another’s throats most of the time. I came home a couple of days ago. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

‘Mum’s got a job,’ piped up Brook from the back seat.

‘I don’t!’ Sandy protested, ‘Well … I might. He’s going to let me know in the next few days.’

‘Who is?’

‘Ronny, down at the vets.’

‘Mum’s going to hold the dogs down when they get their needles,’ Brook yelled enthusiastically.

‘I’m going to be his assistant,’ corrected Sandy.

‘You don’t have to,’ I said. ‘I’ll get another job, and we’ll be fine.’

‘It’s something that I’ve always wanted to do, and now I’ll have a chance. Maybe I can do a veterinary science course and become a real vet. The kids don’t need to be looked after as they did when they were babies, so I’ll have the time.’

‘Well, if you really want to,’ I conceded. Deep down I was grateful that Sandy had taken the initiative in attempting to solve our looming financial crisis. I knew that there would be jobs out there for me, but I was not sure that anything I found would be able to compare financially with the one I had so recently lost.

* * *

Over the next few days I commenced the soul-destroying effort of trying to find a job. I walked miles and left my resume with all manner of companies, but did not receive a glimmer of encouragement from the human resources departments of any of them, and I had yet to receive a single response.

Brook and Josh were in the lounge room with the television blaring while doing their homework, and Sandy was in the kitchen preparing our dinner when the phone rang.

‘Dan, it’s Liam, do you have a couple of coldies in the fridge?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘I’m in the neighbourhood and I thought I’d drop in.’

I was about to tell him to go away and to stay away from me, but had second thoughts. If someone was watching me, then speaking to Liam might add weight to the story of our involvement with government security organisations.

‘How far away are you?’

‘I can be there in five minutes.’

‘I’ll meet you in the yard.’

‘Where are you going with those?’ asked Sandy as I took a pair of bottles from the fridge.

‘Liam’s coming around. He’ll be here in a minute. I’ll talk to him outside.’

Sandy’s face looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon. Her opinion of Liam had dropped immeasurably since I had lost my job.

‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her, ‘he won’t be here long. I’ll make sure of that.’

‘Don’t let that silver-tongued bastard invite himself to supper. I refuse to feed the mongrel.’

* * *

I was seated on the back verandah when Liam climbed from his car. I noted that his shoulders were squared confidently and he had a jaunty spring to his step. If the ICAC had sought to cower him, then they had failed miserably.

He took my hand in a vise-like grip and threatened to shake my arm off at the shoulder. ‘Good to see you again boy. That suntan suits you. Have you been on holidays?’ ‘Enforced holiday,’ I corrected him.

He took my offered beer and swallowed deeply before continuing. ‘I’ve got something for you. I thought you might need it,’ he said, taking an envelope from his pocket.

As I counted the money, he explained. ‘That’s for the last few jobs you did for me before they closed you down. I won’t have it said that I short-changed my workers.’

‘Thanks, but it won’t last long if I don’t get a job.’

‘Now that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Since our appearances before the ICAC my business has been booming.’

‘Yeah? That’s hard to believe.’

‘Well it is. I stood on the stand and told them everything they wanted to know. Everything. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, and do you know what?’

‘What?’

‘The more I told the truth, the more certain they were that I was lying, and the press were just as bad. They all believe that my company is a cover for ASIO. You can’t believe how many new clients I’ve gained. It seems everyone wants to have their work done by real life undercover agents. I tell them up-front that I have nothing to do with spies, and they wink or give me a knowing smile and sign on the dotted line. The money is rolling in.’

‘And you want me to come and work for you?’

‘Not a chance boyo. I’m not taking the risk of getting dragged before the ICAC again.’

‘Then how can you help me?’

‘One of my old clients is selling his delivery business and opening up a taxi company out here in the dusty western suburbs. He needs someone to set up and run the company’s radio network. Are you interested?’

‘Sounds ideal!’

‘Great! I’ve already told him that you’d do it,’ Liam smiled confidently. ‘He’s going to ring you tomorrow with the details.’

* * *

A week later Bob Clements welcomed me to the office of Taxico which was situated in a new industrial subdivision at Wallgrove. With its central locality near the junction of the M4 and the M5 it was an ideal spot for companies in the transport industry as attested to by the large number of trucking companies and storage facilities that were located nearby.

However, the building it was located in was the only new thing about Taxico. Clements had obviously set the company up on a shoestring budget, and its fleet had for the most part seen better days. The office equipment was also battered and scarred, and the radio equipment seemed to be ex-military from the Vietnam era.

‘Don’t worry,’ Bob smiled when he saw my dismay. ‘The first thing I’ll do when we get the company up and running is to get you the latest in radio gadgetry.’

I soon learned that this was Bob’s standard response to all his staff ’s complaints. New taxis, new office equipment, new desk, new chairs, were all on his ‘promise list’.

With a little help from a couple of Bob’s relatives who he had press-ganged in to help out as telephonists, I was soon able to get the main radio set up and tuned those taxis to the correct frequency. But I knew that setting up the system would be the least of my problems, mainly because Bob’s drivers seemed to come from almost every nation on Earth except Australia. The array of accents was mind-boggling, and attempting to understand what was being said over the airwaves was nigh on impossible.

Matters were also complicated by the liberal way in which taxi licenses were used. According to the law each driver had to pass stringent exams in order to obtain a license, but when I tried to contact Vijay Singh in taxi #045, my call was answered by a male with a decidedly Central European accent. Rumanian, I thought. Then, if my suspicions were not aroused by the Vijay Singh incident, they were confirmed when I attempted taxi #32 which was booked out to a driver named Connor Clements, who was also one of Bob’s relatives, and the call was accepted in a voice that was definitely feminine with a decidedly African lilt to it.

When I spoke to Bob about this he spread his hands and smiled. ‘As long as there’s a license displayed on the dash we’ll be fine. No one looks at them anyway.’

‘But what about the inspectors?’

‘The drivers with a borrowed license are told not to pull up at taxi stands. That’s where the inspectors hang out. I told them to pick up fares from other places, like outside pubs and clubs.’

‘What about when they turn up here? They will you know!’

Bob smiled. ‘That’s why Liam is looking after me. He has an ex-copper mate on the taxi council.’

I knew I was not going to get anywhere trying to talk sense to the man, and besides, it wasn’t my company. Just shut up and get on with your work, I said to myself as I made my way back to the radio room. This time I’m not the one who’s risking everything.

Once I had convinced myself to stop worrying about the illegalities taking place at Taxico, life settled down to a semblance of what it had been prior to my fall from grace.

I chose to be on hand in the radio room for the busiest part of the day, being from four in the afternoon till midnight, Wednesday to Sunday. This allowed me time to get Brook and Josh off to school in the morning. After that I could head to the beach and catch a wave or two before reporting to work in the late afternoon.

Sandy was now working part-time for the local vet and was home by the time Brook and Josh returned from school.

Financially, things were tight because my wages at Taxico were a fraction of what I had earned previously, and the money I had earned on the side from Liam no longer existed. Still, this was partly made up by Sandy’s contributions. We would survive, but I knew that there would be no more trips to Bali for me.