Ecstasy Lake Read online

  ‘Sure, I’ll give it a crack.’

  He stowed his rod and stuck out his hand. ‘Good man.’ We shook.

  ‘So what’s your plan?’

  ‘First, to have another beer.’ He put a fresh one in my hand. ‘We are at a great moment in history, my friend, the moment when this country gets truly rich. All we have to do is play it smart and keep feeding the big hungry dragons to the north. With just a little bit of cunning, Steve, you and me can be the lucky ones in the lucky country. You got any problems with that?’

  ‘Can’t think of one at the moment.’

  We clinked our stubbies for the third time.

  ‘For Hiskey,’ he said. ‘The poor bastard.’

  ‘For Hiskey.’

  3

  Tasso wanted to talk contracts and offered me a sizeable slice of the new company. He said twenty per cent and that he wasn’t being generous and I’d fucken well earn it, and I said that five per cent of ten billion dollars would be fine and that anyway it was hard to see how you could ‘earn’ two billion dollars. Then we had a couple more beers and Tasso said I should at least aim to be a billionaire and eventually we settled on ten per cent plus a salary of a hundred and fifty grand that would escalate once the ore was proved, as per Hiskey’s deal. Then he said of course the ore body might be worth ten billion dollars but most of that would be spent digging it up and even he might not end up with a billion, merely somewhere in the high hundreds of millions, and we both laughed and said what a shame. Then we had three more beers and talked about Hiskey.

  ‘At least I don’t have to breathe in his cigarette smoke anymore,’ said Tasso. ‘Although I’ll probably still get lung cancer, thanks to him.’ I remembered the drinking sessions we used to have at uni, back in the good old days when you could still smoke in bars. Hiskey would light up a smoke with his first beer, and he wouldn’t stop until the beer stopped, which was almost never. Tasso was laughing to himself. ‘The bastard drank more than us, made us breathe his perpetual smoke and then let us pay the bill. Every time.’

  ‘I’m not sure why we ever drank with him.’

  ‘The main reason was that it was impossible to leave him behind. He had an uncanny ability to know when drinks were on. He would appear like a Saint Bernard’s dog.’

  Yes, that was Hiskey; smiling, seedy, slobbering, smoking. ‘There was another reason, I always thought,’ I said. ‘Hiskey was a lightning rod, you know? He was someone we could all criticise because he talked too much and acted the expert on subjects he knew nothing about, and because criticism to him was like water off a duck’s back. He simply didn’t notice it.’

  ‘He enjoyed the attention.’

  ‘He did. You used to scold him all the time. He just laughed along with the rest of us. That’s kind of what I liked about him.’

  ‘He never wanted the party to end,’ said Tasso. ‘“One more drink”. It was always “one more drink”.’

  ‘That’s what we called him, wasn’t it? “One-more Mick”.’

  We both laughed at the memory and drank another beer.

  ‘He was a bloody talented geologist,’ said Tasso. ‘He just sucked at everything else.’ We were quiet for a while. ‘One-more’ was no more, and I didn’t want to think about it.

  The conversation turned to how we would spend our millions or billions. I said I’d buy a planet in a nice part of the galaxy but I wouldn’t live there all the time and I’d probably buy a house on Sydney Harbour, too, and an apartment in New York and a small country in the Caribbean and spend most of my time in Italy, and Tasso said he’d buy a modelling agency and a bigger boat and we laughed again, and then he surprised me by saying he’d probably live most of the time in Adelaide.

  ‘But we’re a long way from all that,’ said Tasso. ‘And we can’t do anything unless we legally acquire the exploration licence. Black Hill held it, but it expired recently, which means it’s fair game for anyone. It’s in what the Department of Mines calls a moratorium period. Black Hill could apply to renew the licence, but given that Hiskey has reported no mineral prospects on the lease I can’t see why Hardcastle would want to do that. So your first job, Steve, is to make sure we have an iron-clad application ready to go when the moratorium is over.’

  ‘I can do that.’

  ‘The main thing is, make sure the fucken Department of Mines cannot say no to us. Ironically, given the dodginess of everything about it so far, legality is the key to Hiskey’s find. We have to be squeaky fucken clean.’

  ‘Squeaky is my middle name.’ I’d had nine beers (at a guess) and been sitting in the sun for several hours. There was a lull while I wondered how drunk I was and what part of all this was real, and whether my middle name really was Squeaky.

  ‘You don’t start a mine up overnight, you know,’ I said. ‘You need a tonne of money. A hundred mill, maybe. I know you’re rich, but do you want to invest a third of your fortune or whatever into something like this? And there’s the bureaucracy. It’s just as bad here as it is anywhere else, maybe worse. We’ll need an army of lawyers. Will we process the ore on site? If not, how do we get it to wherever we process it? Build a railway? It’s a massive job, Tasso.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that, Steve? All in good time, though. First we have to get the exploration lease and prove the ore body. Then we start thinking about the mine.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Anyway, we have to do something else much more important than all that.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘We have to find the arsehole who killed Hiskey.’

  ‘And why he killed Hiskey. Maybe it was because of the find.’

  ‘Maybe. I’m going to lie down. You’re in charge of the boat.’ Tasso lurched into the cabin. I heard him bump into a wall, curse, and disappear into the main bedroom, or whatever they’re called on big motor launches. I was in charge. I made it up the steps to the cockpit, collapsed into the pilot’s seat, and was asleep in seconds.

  We both woke in late afternoon. Tasso looked fresh. I jumped overboard to wake myself up. There’s nothing like the combination of sudden cold water and the risk of being eaten by a great white shark to make you feel alive. I was fully revived by the time I clambered back on board, heart pumping hard. Tasso started the engines and soon we were flinging up a bow wave on our way back up the coast. The westerly had strengthened and there was a chop on the water. We stood in the cockpit, Tasso at the helm. He took a hand off the ship’s wheel long enough to gesture towards the city, which was ablaze with gold in the late afternoon. The rich houses of Henley Beach were glinting.

  ‘Look at the place, Steve,’ he said, his voice raised so I could hear it above the noise of the engine and the sea. The wind was blasting his wiry hair and there were flecks of gold in his eyes. He looked like a pirate.

  ‘It ain’t New York.’

  ‘No, it ain’t. It ain’t anything much. This is a town where the most important question you can ever be asked is which high school you went to. Well, I went to a state school in the badlands, so I’m nobody.’

  ‘Yet you said you plan to spend most of your time here.’

  ‘Sure I will. Everyone needs to make a stand, sooner or later.’ He gestured again at the city. ‘This is where I’m going to make mine.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a smug, old-money, pissant little place, but it could be great. It’s got the climate for it, the wineries, the food, the sea, the Island, the Gulf, the three peninsulas.’

  ‘The saltpans.’

  He laughed. ‘Forget about the fucken saltpans. Anyway, I heard they’re going to turn those into a suburb, won’t that be nice? This could be a great city, I’m telling you, one of the great cities. Just fill it with people, they’ll do the rest. The mines will bring the people. Hiskey’s find is no Olympic Dam, but it’s still going to be big. And the profits from it will stay here with you and me—when you’re not on your other planet. I’m going to be the richest man this city has ever known. Me, a boy
from the northern suburbs. We’re new money, Steve. We’ll make the place great.’

  ‘Alright.’

  He laughed again. ‘At the very least, my friend, we are going to have some fun. We are going to shake this fucken town.’

  4

  Tasso was keen to start shaking the town that evening, so after a clean-up, a bite to eat and a few drinks at the hotel we headed out. Tasso wanted to go to White Pointer, which he said was the most popular nightclub in town. It still mightn’t be much: it was a small town.

  White Pointer was a two-storey establishment on Hindley Street with a large neon shark’s fin mounted above it. The fin was white, and a couple of pulsing, blood red ripples ran across the outline just below the tip. Bert was driving, and we pulled up in a no-parking zone. There was the loud thump-thump of electronic music, and coloured lights flashed to get the waiting crowd in the mood. Dozens of young women and men were gathered on the pavement in a loose line-up, waiting to be admitted. Most of the girls were clutching purses and many were looking at their phones. All were wearing short skirts and some were wearing shorter skirts. There were girls wearing too much make-up, girls with piercings, and girls with tattoos in the smalls of their backs and halfway up their thighs and on the tops of their breasts and no doubt in other, slightly more private places.

  There were plenty of lads about, too. Most seemed to be there for the party, full of laughter and energy, ready to dance and sweat and drink and dehydrate and slur words at the girls. But there was a group that looked like it might be there for other reasons, tough-guys wearing shirts with truncated sleeves so they could flash their engorged muscles at girls and rivals and cops, young men and not-so-young men with shorn heads and piercings and tattoos that flexed when their biceps flexed, observing the scene with volatile eyes.

  Bert clicked on the hazards and stepped out of the car with a flourish that caught the attention of a couple of grinning youths.

  ‘Nice moves, old man,’ said one of them. Tasso had also climbed out and was admiring two girls standing next to the no-parking sign. They were holding hands.

  ‘Nice car,’ said one of them to Tasso.

  ‘Like to go for a drive?’ Tasso made a big gesture with his hand. They looked at each other and giggled.

  ‘You work quick,’ said one.

  ‘You boys are a bit old for us,’ said the other, but she was wearing a coy look that seemed to suggest that the age barrier was negotiable. Her legs disappeared into a short, black-and-white-striped dress with no shoulder straps. It was unclear how the dress was staying in position. The other girl was wearing a dress of a similar style, without the stripes. ‘We’re lining up to get into the club,’ said the girl in the stripes.

  ‘Well, let’s go into the club, then,’ said Tasso. Bert had been standing at a respectful distance and Tasso caught his eye. ‘Come in with us, Bert.’

  ‘I probably won’t, sir. Not really my scene.’

  The girls laughed and looked at each other. ‘Nawt really my scene,’ mimicked the one in the striped dress. She had a confident mouth and cheeky eyes. She looked at Tasso. ‘He called you sir. How cute.’

  ‘I’ve told him not to do that. Be cute, I mean.’

  ‘Is he your chauffeur?’

  ‘I guess you could say so.’

  ‘Are you rich?’

  ‘Rich enough.’

  ‘I’m Juliana,’ said the stripy one. ‘And she’s Caitlin.’

  ‘Mr Tasso.’ A man was calling from the entrance of the nightclub. He wore a dinner jacket that fitted his chest like it would have fitted a fridge. A bow tie was stuck like a fridge-magnet to the top of his white shirt, and he didn’t appear to have a neck. ‘Mr Tasso.’ He was heading toward us, and the crowd made way for him like they’d make way for a runaway van. His arms didn’t want to hang vertically. ‘Mr Tasso, no need to wait back here. Come through.’ He had a small earpiece in his ear with a looped cable that disappeared into his shirt collar.

  ‘Hello, Tiny,’ said Tasso. ‘We’re happy out here with these lovely ladies.’

  ‘We don’t mind jumping the queue,’ said Juliana.

  ‘No, we don’t want to start a riot,’ said Tasso. He winked at her. ‘You could cause a riot, just with your legs.’ She beamed at him.

  ‘Suit yourself, Mr Tasso,’ said Tiny. He held his finger to his ear as if a message was coming in. It seemed to take a while to get through.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, and returned to his post. He spoke to a bloke in a better-fitting shirt, who looked at us and strolled over.

  ‘Tasso, good to see you again.’ He was a short, earnest man of about thirty with slicked-back black hair, a long chin and wild eyes. He had thick dark eyebrows that arched up and seemed to be asking a perpetual question, and a turned-down moustache as thick as his eyebrows that seemed to be answering in the negative. Tasso turned to me. ‘This is Peter Coy.’

  ‘Steve West,’ I said. Coy nodded and we shook hands. He had an intense stare and his eyeballs seem to move more than they should. He looked at the girls, but Tasso didn’t introduce them; I wondered if he had forgotten their names. There was a deep cackling noise that grew loud. Very loud. We turned to watch as a fleet of about twenty-five motorbikes cruised past, ridden by men clad in black leather with black helmets on their heads and club patches on their backs. I couldn’t see which club.

  ‘Mad Dogs,’ said Coy. He met my gaze again. ‘I used to be one.’

  Judging from the noise, the Mad Dogs had done a U-turn and were on their way back again.

  ‘This could get interesting,’ said Coy, looking at Tasso. ‘Harlin and me are not so popular with the Dogs these days.’ Tasso didn’t seem to care much about Coy’s popularity. The bikes didn’t stop; they cruised past on the other side of the road, their riders not even looking in our direction. Soon the racket had faded.

  ‘Harlin will be along soon,’ said Coy.

  ‘Good,’ said Tasso. ‘I want a word.’ Coy went into the nightclub.

  ‘I don’t like him,’ said Juliana. ‘He’s got a creepy moustache.’ She looked around, furtively, and opened her purse. She extracted a small packet. Inside were two fat, round, colourless pills about the diameter of Tiny’s earpiece. A picture of a butterfly was engraved in the surface of both. Juliana handed one to Caitlin and looked at Tasso. ‘Sorry, I only have two.’

  ‘That’s okay. I don’t use them.’ She shrugged and popped the pill in her mouth and took a swig from her water bottle. Caitlin waited for the bottle and then did the same.

  ‘You’re not cops, are you?’ said Juliana. She giggled. ‘You don’t look like a cop,’ she said to Tasso. ‘You do a bit,’ she said to me.

  Tasso laughed. ‘Hear that, Steve? You look like a cop.’

  The attention of the two girls drifted; they began chatting with other girls in the queue. The queue shuffled forward.

  Tasso said to me, ‘I can’t get it up if I take ecstasy.’

  ‘That’s more information than I need, Tasso.’

  He nodded at the crowd. ‘Half these people are probably on E now and the other half are on speed or alcohol or both. Hiskey knew the drug scene in Adelaide like he knew the veins on his own forearm. White Pointer is a distribution hub. When you met Coy you met Mr Big’s right-hand man.’ He gestured at the neon shark’s fin. ‘This place is owned by a guy called Harlin, who also runs the city’s drug trade. Not a great fan of drugs myself, but I don’t care. Everyone needs a prop.’

  ‘Everyone needs to make a stand, too, remember?’

  ‘That’s right. Make a stand, propped up.’

  ‘What’s your prop?’

  ‘Sex.’

  ‘I should have known.’

  ‘And booze.’

  ‘Everyone needs two props.’

  ‘Drugs are as common as bat shit these days.’

  ‘Do the cops know about this place?’

  ‘Yeah, of course they do. Every now and then they’ll bust a couple of kids here, but they haven’t
been able to touch Harlin. He’s a smart guy.’

  Juliana and Caitlin were starting to look at peace with the world. Tasso was watching them.

  ‘Young,’ I said.

  He tore his eyes away. ‘They’d be eighteen or nineteen.’

  ‘Not much less than half your age.’

  He grinned. He was showing no ill effects from the beer we had drunk on the boat. In fact he looked to be in rude health, the sunburn he had acquired on the boat giving his face richness, almost a glow. He was ready for a big night.

  ‘Why Fern, Tasso? You like women. Young women. Young, skinny women, just above the legal age. You have fun, you move on. Fern doesn’t fit the pattern.’

  He shrugged, and for a moment he had a look I might have called innocent if I hadn’t known him better. ‘It’s complicated.’

  A black Merc pulled up at the curb and a woman emerged from the passenger side. She was of Asian appearance, possibly Chinese. She was wearing a conservative black dress and high heels and not much expression. Her eyes met mine and held for a moment, and her mouth moved in what could have been a micro-smile. The driver’s door opened and a man emerged and she lost the smile, if that was what it was, and looked away. The man zapped the car to lock it and touched the woman on the arm as he walked her to the entrance of the club. He spoke to Tiny and then to the woman, who nodded and entered the club on her own. Then he turned and walked towards us.