The Godson (2 page)

‘That's all right,' he said, picking up the key. ‘We'll be okay.'
Eddie couldn't have been more gentle or polite but there was something in the way he touched her and the dark stillness of his eyes that slightly unnerved the blonde receptionist.

‘Oh … all right then. Well, if you should want…'

Eddie gave her a brief smile. He picked up the two bags and her voice trailed off as he and Price stepped briskly across to the lift.

‘Not a bad digs,' said Eddie, after throwing their bags on the double bed in each room.

‘Yeah,' agreed Price. ‘Don't look too bad at all.'

The motel room was quite spacious and beautifully appointed. Two separate bedrooms faced a lounge room and a curtained verandah giving extensive views over the east side of the city towards Black Mountain Reserve. There was a bathroom and spa and a small kitchen with a well-stocked bar running off it.

‘Christ! There's plenty of piss here if we want it,' said Eddie, opening and closing the fridge. He moved into the kitchen. ‘Fancy a cup of coffee, Price?'

‘Yeah. But not that instant shit. Ring room service and get some percolated stuff sent up. And book a table in the dining room. I'm gonna get cleaned up then make a few phone calls.'

‘What time do you want to eat, Mr Kelly?' smiled Eddie, picking up the phone.

‘Ohh, around seven'll do,' replied Price. He unzipped his jacket and went into his room.

P
RICE AND
E
DDIE
had finished their meal by about nine, and were seated in the motel dining room sipping a bottle of wine. The dining room was comfortable and uncrowded, tastefully furnished in blue and white with a bowl of blue gardenias on each table. The service, like the food, was excellent. Eddie and Price didn't go for anything exotic from the menu, each preferring, because of the cold, a nice New Zealand mussel bouillabaisse and a New York cut with pepper sauce and vegetables. Price ordered a bottle of '76 Penfolds St. Henri claret which went down exceptionally well. In fact it went down that well he ordered another one after the meal. They were now both halfway through that bottle, feeling an inner glow of warmth and contentment as they contemplated their first night in Canberra and the circumstances that had brought them there.

‘So,' said Eddie, keeping his voice down a little. ‘You still
don't know for sure what it is O'Malley wants you to do?'

Price reflected into his glass of wine and shook his head slightly. ‘No. Not really. He couldn't say much over the phone. But from what I can gather he just wants me to look after some young pommy bloke coming out for a couple of weeks. That's all.'

Eddie took a slow sip of wine. ‘Seems funny though, him bringing you all the way down here just to ask you to do that.'

‘There could be a bit more to it. But it wouldn't matter if Laurie wanted me to drive to Gobe Island for him. I'd do it. I owe him. And he's been a good mate for over thirty years.'

‘Yeah. He's a top bloke all right,' agreed Eddie. ‘Nothing wrong with him.'

‘One of the best, Ed.'

They paused as the waiter appeared and topped up their glasses.

‘Anyway,' continued Price, once the waiter had left. ‘I said I'd be out at his place at Red Hill at ten tomorrow. I'll probably be there most of the day, so you can drop me off and pick me up at five.' Eddie nodded. ‘That gives you seven hours to yourself in beautiful downtown Canberra. What do you reckon you'll do?'

‘Probably drive round and round in circles like everyone else does here,' shrugged Eddie with a laugh. ‘No. I'll spend a bit of time in the War Memorial. Then go down the National Gallery — I promised Lindy I'd get her a decent print she could frame. I'll get something for the kids too.'

Price smiled. ‘I tipped you'd go to the War Memorial.'

‘May as well while I'm down here,' shrugged Eddie.

‘Won't bring back any bad memories?'

‘I never had any bad memories of Vietnam, Price. It was grouse. I'd go back tomorrow. I don't mind killing people at all,' he added with a sinister smile.

‘I know,' said Price, flashing a smile as sinister as Eddie's. ‘Why do you think I've got you working for me?'

They raised their glasses just as the bill arrived. Price signed for it and slipped the waiter a twenty.

‘Well, Eddie,' he said. ‘What say we finish this then I'll give you a few games of German Whist and we'll hit the sack. You can wake me up at eight thirty. Okay?'

‘Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.'

They lingered over the second bottle of St. Henri then went
to their room. After several games of cards, a bottle or two of beer and a bit of TV they were in bed by eleven. Feeling warm and comfortable and knowing it was like the Siberian Steppes outside, both men slept like the dead.

E
DDIE WOKE UP
around six feeling pretty fresh. After he'd finished in the bathroom he made a cup of coffee which he took out on to the verandah — for about five seconds. That was all the time Eddie needed to know that although it wasn't raining or snowing, it was bleak, miserable and absolutely icy out in the open. He finished his coffee in the warmth. Miserable and cold it might have been outside, but it was also good for something else — a run. He got changed into a tracksuit and his Tiger Trainers and put a beanie and a pair of gloves in the front pocket. Using the bar as a bench he swung his legs up and did a few stretches while he studied a map of Canberra. Ten minutes later Eddie was out the front of The Country Club Motel, heading towards Braddon and Limestone Avenue. He didn't bother to take a gun with him, but force of habit made him slip a switchblade knife down the inside of his left glove.

Anybody watching Eddie run would have probably thought he was the fittest bloke on God's earth as he sprinted along, crossing streets in three steps and leaving clouds of steam from his breath in his wake. Wiry and light-framed, Eddie was a fast runner at any time but all he was trying to do now was warm up. He was going for twenty minutes at a cracking pace before even his blood seemed to start circulating let alone him getting a sweat up. It was a pleasant run, though. Wide, flat streets lined with hundreds of trees which accounted for what seemed like an endless carpet of brown leaves at every turn. Hedges in front of the houses and old fashioned street lamps gave it an almost old English, countryside look. After a while a copper-domed building, looming up on a tree-studded hill to his left told him he'd found the War Memorial. He sprinted across Limestone Avenue, up the driveway and into a park before coming back to stop at a display of tanks, artillery and a piece of old Bailey bridge to the left. With its two machine guns on top, a chipped armoured personnel carrier which had been blown up by a mine in Vietnam brought a smile to his face as he checked it out. But it was too cold to be standing around for long so he took off again.

He went straight down a long, landscaped boulevard which
headed towards Lake Burley Griffin and Parliament House with the sou'wester whipping along behind him. So much for the scenery, he thought, glancing at his watch. Arms pumping, he headed back to the motel.

Eddie had only meant to go jogging for thirty minutes but it was after eight when he got back to The Country Club. He got showered and woke Price right on 8.30.

‘You been for a run, mate?' said Price, noticing Eddie's tracksuit and joggers in the lounge.

‘A run? It's more like trying to survive out there. Christ, it's cold. How'd you sleep?'

‘I didn't move.' Price yawned and stretched. ‘I'm gonna have a shower. You ordered breakfast?'

‘No, not yet. What do you fancy?'

‘Ohh, bacon and eggs, coffee — the usual. And get some porridge and prunes.'

‘Coming up,' said Eddie, picking up the phone. ‘Or as the yanks say — you got it.'

‘Whatever. But tell 'em to hurry. I'm starving.' Price disappeared into the bathroom.

An hour or so later they were standing outside the motel next to the Rolls. Of all things to happen, the sun suddenly came out and for a few brief moments several skinny shafts of blue seemed to appear behind Black Mountain.

‘Hello, look at that,' said Eddie, tilting his face towards the sky. ‘I knew I should have brought my cossies.'

No sooner had he spoken than the sun disappeared again and a cold blast of wind whipped around their necks, almost snapping their ears off.

‘Eddie! Open the bloody car door, for Christ's sake,' said Price through gritted teeth.

Eddie turned the heater on full while he warmed up the motor. Across his lap was a street map of Canberra.

‘You know where this place is?' asked Price.

‘Yep.' Eddie pointed to the map. ‘See. La Perouse Street, Red Hill. I go through the city, past Parliament House, round that golf course and O'Malley's place is right there. On the corner of La Perouse and Harvey Street.'

‘Right. Well let's get going.'

Eddie found driving in Canberra easy. There wasn't much traffic and the streets were so wide and well-planned that even the worst driver in the world would be flat out to have an accident. The only annoying thing was that every street or road seemed to curve or finish in a circle, ending in roundabouts
as big as football fields. Finally he found La Perouse Street, a quiet, curving road full of poplar trees turned brown and dotted with Olde English-style street lamps set on wide, green median strips. The area gave the distinct impression of wealth, style and cultivated elegance.

‘Jesus Christ!' muttered Eddie, as once again the street he was on began to arc into a circle. ‘Am I ever sick of going around in circles. I'll end up getting car sick. And all these bloody trees. It's like you're forever driving around and around Centennial Park.'

‘Yeah,' agreed Price. ‘That architect Burley Griffin must have finished up with chlorophyll poisoning and curvature of the spine after he designed the joint.'

Finally Eddie found the street and house he was looking for, a white two-storey residence fronted by a small, neat stone wall. A tall Canadian pine pushed up from the front yard and a bushy tree full of red berries stood to the right of it. Glass bricks set on either side of the wood-panelled front door reminded him of some of the houses you'd see in parts of Dover Heights in Sydney. There was a double garage to the left. Eddie crunched the Rolls Royce up onto the gravel driveway and cut the engine.

‘You needn't bother coming inside, Eddie,' said Price.

‘Yeah, righto.' Eddie got out of the car and opened the door for his boss. ‘I'll see you at five then, Price.'

‘Okay, Ed. Good on you, mate.'

From the back of the Rolls, Eddie watched as Price went to the front door. It opened before he had a chance to knock and Eddie noticed a tall, willowy blonde in a tweed suit and glasses smile and beckon Price inside. He turned and nodded to Eddie; Eddie nodded back as Price stepped inside and the door closed. Satisfied that everything was in order, Eddie got back in the Rolls and started the motor. Now, he thought, checking his watch, what to do till five o'clock? He smiled to himself as he backed down the driveway. I think I might make the War Memorial starting favourite.

He pulled up near the western entrance and went straight inside. He had changed his mind about looking at the tanks and the artillery out the front, and as for the old armoured personnel carrier, you've seen one APC, you've seen the lot. A blast of hot air from the heater above the entrance nearly blew his cap off. He unzipped his jacket, picked up a visitors' guide and joined the other people heading towards the Gallipoli exhibit.

Eddie had never visited the Memorial before. His only other time in Canberra had been a quick trip in and out in a Caribou to deliver 200 stolen AK-47s to a major in the Australian engineers when Eddie went back to Vietnam working more or less as a mercenary with the US Army and the CIA. He found the War Memorial absolutely fascinating and, for someone as tough and deadly as him, even moving. The painstaking attention given to detail was nothing short of amazing. Whole battle campaigns were mapped out. There were old letters, diaries with bullet holes in them, officers' uniforms shredded from shrapnel. Old tins of biscuits and chocolates with Queen Victoria on the front. Guns, bayonets, Turkish uniforms. Dummies in full, original battle dress. He meandered on to the Sinai and Palestine Exhibits, then through the aeroplane hall containing huge, complete planes: Halifax bombers, Spitfires, old RAAF Boomerangs. A tape recording was playing over and over — the voices of an actual flight crew on a bombing raid over Dresden.

He wandered on through the other visitors taking photos and groups of kids taking notes, into the Middle East section, the South West Pacific, and New Guinea; wherever Australian fighting men and women had laid down their lives for their country. But all the time Eddie was drifting inexorably towards what he was ultimately looking for. He found himself in a small theatrette watching newsreels about the Korean war. He left that, strolled through the Korean section and he was there. Vietnam.

The first thing that caught his eye was an old black and white Admiral television set sitting in a mock-up of a 1960s style lounge room. On the table alongside were old magazines, Beatles albums and other items from that era of flower power. There was a small record player; the 45 on the turntable was The Seekers' — ‘I'll Never Find Another You'. He glanced at some school children taking notes on the brown vinyl lounge, when the TV started. It was ‘Four Corners' on the ABC, a journalist was reporting live from the battlefield. The kids on the lounge took notes; Eddie blinked in wonder at the film. Those soldiers on the screen, were they familiar faces? Jesus Christ! They were. The newsreel stopped and from behind a helicopter suspended from the ceiling two speakers started up with the swoosh-swoosh-swoosh of helicopters taking off and landing. It was all too real. Eddie closed his eyes and for a moment he was back there. Bin Bah. Xuoc Thoy. Nui Dat. The bodies. The heat. The dust and flies. The smell.
Mines, booby traps, tension. Bodies spinning like tops as the bullets hit them. Patrols. Brutality. Turning WIAs into KIAs. Brave men. Cowards. But where a lot of Vietnam veterans might have been unnerved, Eddie was rapt. Eddie Salita was a killer long before the army sent him to Vietnam.