Southbound Ferry—Take 1

The southerly buster blew across the harbour relieving the oppressive heat of a late January afternoon as Brad sat on the outer deck of the ferry looking toward Manly Pool. In his early twenties this was his first visit to Sydney and he was enjoying himself. He also enjoyed sitting next to an attractive brunette about ten years his senior and stole occasional glances at her, thinking he wasn't being very obvious. Gradually he realised that she was agitated.

Because she was dressed for a night out he at first thought that she was worried about the wind ruining her hair-do and wondered why she hadn't sat inside; but as departure time approached he saw that she was watching for somebody.

When the mooring ropes were cast off and they pulled away from the wharf, she seemed to relax.

"Great afternoon," he said to her.

She looked at him, apparently noticing him for the first time, and seemed about to ignore him. Then she changed her mind. Her words were terse, her tone unfriendly. "It's OK," she said.

Taking no warning from her manner, Brad pressed on. "Off to Sydney?"

"Are we stopping anywhere else?"

"I mean, you could be going to Sydney then somewhere by train, or bus or…" he stopped, not knowing how to continue.

"No."

"Oh! You look as though you're going on a date," he tried.

"Look," she said, "I don't know you, you don't know me, we just happen to be sitting next to each other. OK?"

"I, um, OK. I, ah, sorry." He turned away to cover his embarrassment. "Not very friendly," he thought. "Maybe lots of guys hit on her and she thinks I'm one of them."

Lost in his thoughts Brad didn't notice that she looked over her shoulder, and didn't see the alarm that suddenly registered on her face. He only became aware that she had ducked down because she bumped into him."

"Sorry," he said, wondering why he was apologising anyway, but feeling completely unnerved by her attitude.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," she said. "I know you were only being friendly." She slipped her arm through his and moved up close to him, dropping her head down onto his chest-out of sight, she hoped, of the man who was walking along the next row of seats.

Brad was confused. The woman was physically attractive, obviously sensual, clearly highly strung, and her manner was abrasive. And now she was snuggling up to him! He was torn between the enjoyment of her body and the fear that she may be on some kind of medication.

"Is everything OK?" he asked. His excitement was piqued but somewhere down deep alarm bells were ringing.

"Let's just sit like this for a bit," she said.

Brad put an arm around her and when there was no reaction, he drew her in a bit closer. He turned his head to look at her wondering if this was going to be his lucky day, but when he turned back he became aware of somebody standing in front of them.

The man was almost a caricature. Around thirty-five he was taller than average, wearing a dirty white singlet, grubby jeans, and thongs. He had a six-pack of Toohey's tucked under his left arm and a half empty can in his right hand. That this was not an unusual occurrence was obvious from the beer gut that hung out over his waist band. Brad thought that if there were awards for being obnoxious this guy would have to take first place.

"Havin' a cuddle, are yer mate?" His voice was challenging, his animosity obvious. "Coppin' a feel, maybe?"

"None of your business," said Brad. He might not know how to talk to a difficult woman, but he had no problems with this man. "Bugger off!"

"Bugger off! Whadda ya think of that, Sugarplum? The boy friend told me to bugger off. I think he's hopin' to get his end in." He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face. "Yer gunna let him?"

"That's it!" said Brad. "Beat it or I'll knock your block off."

Unabashed, the man looked him up and down and allowed himself a little smile that did nothing to soften his expression. "Well, now, that'd be interestin'," he said. "I'm almost willin' to let you try-but before you make a drongo of yerself why don't you ask yer little friend who I am?"

Brad looked at the woman who had again dropped her eyes. When she didn't answer the man said, "That's me missus you've been cuddlin'."

"You've got to be joking!" Brad's voice was all disbelief but his brain was rapidly calculating the possibilities and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. If this was the man she had been avoiding it could just be true.

"Tell him, Sugar. Put the poor bugger out of his misery."

"Are you really married to this creep?" Brad asked.

"Sure she is!" said the man. "We've got three kids."

"Three kids?" Brad couldn't believe his ears. "You've really got three kids?"

The woman raised her head and looked at him. "Oh, yes. I've got three kids all right!" Then she turned her eyes on the apparition in front of her and they were filled with contempt. "But don't feel too great about that buster—because none of them are yours!"

Southbound Ferry—Take 2

Gino Calabresi didn't look Italian although he came from a long and, in their own field, well-known line of Italians. His father, Don Giovanni Calabresi, had married a spectacular blonde he saw dancing in a New York strip club, and while Gino inherited his mother's blue eyes and fair complexion he had, fortunately, inherited his father's intelligence.

He had also inherited his father's dubiously colourful business acumen.

Travelling on a Canadian passport, Gino had arrived in Sydney a month earlier after he learned that a second casino was due to open in the Harbour City. He wanted a piece of the action.

It had been a busy month spent making contacts with the "Three Ps"—Police, Politicians and Public Servants. He bought their friendship and future favours with generous financial incentives, not to mention the enthusiastic co-operation of a stable of working girls.

He didn't like doing business that way, throwing money at the slime that grew up around crime and gambling. He had principles. But hey! cosi fan tutti—that was the way of the world. Even so, he took the opportunity, when it was possible, to get away from these business contacts and meet ordinary Australians—people, he hoped, like Crocodile Dundee and Steve Irwin—and like the slightly-sunburnt woman sitting next to him on the Manly ferry.

"This sure is a beautiful harbour," he said. "I envy you Australians living in a place like this. Hey, my name's Gino by the way."

The woman smiled at him. It was a friendly smile, not a come-on. She was obviously a real lady and, he had to admit, she looked spectacular. "It is beautiful, isn't it. I'm Marie Russet."

"An old-fashioned name, Marie," he said. "Reminds me of a friend back home in Ontario."

"You're a Canadian, then Gino?"

"Born and bred," he kept up the pretence. "It's a beautiful country, too, but we got nothing like this."

They had been speaking for only a few minutes when a gaunt man with Slavic features approached them. He was so angry that Gino wondered if he had been smoking crack.

He ignored Gino and snarled at Marie, "This the boyfriend then, is it? This the bloke you've been having it away with."

When Gino spoke his voice was soft, but the man was too angry to sense the menace that lay beneath. "You're insulting this lady, Bub, and you're upsetting me. Why don't you walk away, real quick, while you still can."

"You walk away Mister. She's my wife and I'll talk to her any way I like."

"Careful, Buster! You don't know who you're talking to," Gino said.

"I don't care if you're the bloody Pope," he said. "You're the bloke she's been sleeping with, aren't you?"

"Have you been sleeping around, Marie?" Gino's voice was still deceptively gentle.

"No I haven't! Johnny's paranoid. Every time I go out he thinks I'm with some man. I'm actually on my way to see a divorce lawyer right now."

"Hear that, Johnny? Straight from the lady's mouth. She hasn't been seeing anybody and the two of us were just having a friendly conversation. Now do yourself a favour…" Gino waved him away, indicating that there was nothing more to be said.

The problem was that Johnny didn't realise how dangerous Gino could be. After all, he was short, middle-aged, and a little overweight. Nothing Johnny couldn't handle if he was pushed. He'd enjoy punching the man if it came down to it. "So what were you talking about?"

Gino glanced over his shoulder, caught the eye of a big man with the broken nose and thickened ears of a not-too-successful boxer, and crooked a finger. The he turned back to Johnny. "Real estate," he said. "We were talking about this beautiful Sydney Harbour."

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"Sure, Johnny. I expect you to believe everything I say, because I wouldn't waste my time lying to a pezzo di merde like you." Gino's voice was still soft and coaxing. He'd been Mr Nice Guy for a lot longer than he would have been at home, but enough was enough. Then he seemed to change the subject. "Hey! Look at that crazy island just in front of us, that one with the castle on it. I bet I could make a dollar or two on a place like that."

"You stupid, bloody Yank! That's Fort Denison. You can't buy that."

Fort Denison, Sydney Harbour

Gino smiled. "Maybe not but, hey! I usually work in smaller lots. About six feet long. Right on the bottom of the harbour. And I give away a free pair of shoes with them, you know, like they call an incentive."

For the first time Johnny looked closely at Gino and at last realised that the smaller man might be no pushover. He felt his confidence begin to waver, just a little. "Shoes? What sort of shoes?"

"Cement shoes!" he said, and his voice grew as cold and hard as his eyes.

At last Johnny realised that he was out of his depth and, with that realisation grew the beginnings of fear. He'd finish this conversation later when Marie was on her own. He started to back away only to find himself grasped from behind by two large, powerful hands.

"But I'm on holiday," said Gino, "and I don't want to sell any real estate in Sydney, so let's just be friends, Johnny? Why don't you pop over there to Fort Whatsitsname and see if they want to sell it."

"I can't go there!" Johnny's voice grew shrill as he realised what Gino was threatening.

"Sure you can," said Gino and nodded toward the side of the boat.

With no apparent effort the minder lifted Johnny from the deck and flipped him over the rail. Then he turned and stared at the few passengers who had seen the incident. Most of them pretended nothing had happened. and one man actually grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Not only did the others not want to get involved with these two threatening characters but, like the grinner, they knew that justice had been done. In the water Johnny struggled toward the safety of a wooden jetty.

"Now, Marie Russet, I think we were saying something about this being a beautiful country."

Marie smiled. "It certainly is," she said. "And now it's turned into a beautiful day as well."