Bear walked out of the terminal as LP’s car pulled up to the kerb.
“So, what’s the plan? Is everyone at the beach house?” asked Bear
“Red’s there, but we don’t know where George is. I couldn’t get through to Mason, and Cassa is in Indo.”
“Okay, drive. We’ll sort this shit out real quick.”
They arrived at the old hangout. It was a low-set, three-bedroom house with four steps leading up to a verandah.
Bear had been fortunate enough to inherit the beach house from his uncle. His generous nature meant that the property was available to his mates whenever they wanted.
They had taken up his offer over the years, to surf, fish and relax at Teewah Beach. It was only a short walk over the dunes to forty miles of white sandy beach. Multi-coloured cliffs allowed hang gliders to launch themselves off as ocean waves pounded below at high tide.
Red was in the tiny lounge room reminiscing about Kat, who had left him not long after arriving back in Brisbane from Bells Beach. City life had been exciting for her in comparison to outback Queensland’s slow pace. So she left Red and gave up nursing but kept her uniform and became a pole dancer at a Gentleman’s Club in an unsavoury part of the city.
Red never got over her and rarely hooked up with another woman for very long. His lost love had made him irritable and angry. The roller coaster of emotions affected his body also, creating dry scaly outbreaks over his skin which would become red and infected.
“Long time, no see,” Red said.
Bear replied, “G’day, shit stirrer. How’ve ya been?”
Everyone settled onto the couches like they’d never left.
“Where’s Brownie?” asked LP.
“Dunno, late, as usual, I guess.” said Red, while scratching his leg.
“Hey,” said Bear. “We’ve got a problem. Those bikies are not going to give up looking for us until they get what they want.”
“Well, what they want is beat us to a pulp because we dobbed them into the cops,” said Red.
“Bullshit,” Bear said. “We’ve got something of theirs, and they want it back. It’s those bloody coins we found in the back of the kombi ages ago. They weren’t just foreign coins; they were gold.”
“Oh, shit,” Red replied. “Are you kidding? I thought they were just rubbish. We’re in big trouble then.”
“Let’s just find the gold first,” said Bear. “Then we’ll decide what to do with those bastard bikies.”
Suddenly the guys stopped talking.
They could hear the roar of the bikes, but couldn’t see anything other than a huge dust cloud coming from a gravel road that had been recently built by the local council. Up until then, you could only access the township along the beach at low tide.
Nutter and his mad mates were on their way to the beach house address, given to them by a phone call from Jack Herbertsin, the Police Commissioner.
“That doesn’t sound good,” said LP.
As the sound of the engines died and the dust settled, the guys could see around thirty angry bikies in the street, with more still coming. Many got off their bikes and spread themselves out, then Nutter and Porky walked up the four steps to the verandah.
Nutter said, “You know why we’re here; hand over our gear, and do it now.”
“Tell me, Nutter, what do you mean?” Bear asked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t stuff me around; I want our coin back now,” Nutter replied.
Bear said, “We aint got it, so go back to where you came from, or I’ll have ya.”
Nutter laughed. “There’s three of you, and a street full of us. Bear, you’re full of yourself.”
Bear realised the odds were not in his favour, and needed some time to get his head around this jam.
Porky had been standing quietly, sucking from a tallie he had taken from the fridge. Suddenly, he interrupted, “Which asshole put my head through that wall thirty years ago?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve come all this way to find that out?” asked Red.
Porky replied, “We’ve got long memories. Every one of our mates outside wants a piece of you guys. We’ve been thinking about paying you surfie bums back for all the trouble you caused for a long, long time.”
Red said, “You guys need professional help. I know a good shrink who could help you get over your anger management issues.”
“Cut the crap. Who put my head through the wall?” asked Porky again.
Red walked forward and grabbed Porky in a headlock. He marched him over to a wall, and pushed his head through the gyprock, then slowly pulled it out, showering his red hair and beard with white gyprock powder. He looked like a ghost!
“Now do you remember who put your head through the wall?” Red asked.
“You… You bastard.”
“That’s right, and, if you don’t leave now, I’ll do the same to your brain dead mates out there, too.”
Bear jumped in to calm things down. “Settle down, Red, I’m sure Nutter and I can work something out. Surely you guys didn’t come all this way for an old grudge. What’s the real reason you’re back in town?”
“I was getting to that before your mate got agro,” Nutter said.
Bear said, “He had good reason to, so don’t stir him up any more.”
“Cut to the chase; where’s our gold?” asked Nutter.
“What gold?”
“You bastards better still have it, or the money you got for it, or I’m gunna kill ya.”
Bear jumped in again. “We’ve had this little talk once before, and I said that if I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. So think again; the only one who’s going to die today is you. Now leave us alone before I lose my cool.”
Nutter said, “I’ve got a street full of bikies backing me up, and they want to rip you lot from limb from limb. All I’ve got to do is give them the word. I’ll give you one minute to change your mind and tell me where the coins are.”
“Those coins; they were just some old foreign coins – worth nothing,” said Bear.
“Are you lot still as naïve as back then? Those coins are gold Krugerrands. They are collectors now, worth ten times their face value. I’m talking one and a half million,” said Nutter.
Nutter turned and started walking out, then said, “You’ve got one minute to tell me where my coins are, or my mates will come in and extract what we want to know.”
Bear said, “Nutter, a wise man once said ‘turn the other cheek but once’. Just keep walking and get on your bikes, or you and your bikie mates will not live to tell the story. The coins are long gone.”
Nutter reminded Bear, “There’s two hundred of us and only three of you dickheads.”
“That’s better odds than the last time we met; bugger off or you’ll get burnt.”
As Nutter and Porky went back to their mates, Bear, Red, and LP stood looking out at the sea of bikies in front of them. Bear’s confidence was over the top again. Things were looking pretty grim.
Ring, ring, ring. Bear answered his mobile.
“Hey, Bear, I see you’ve got visitors. What do you want me to do?” It was Brownie.
“Where are you?”
“At the top of your street.”
“Go around to the back street and wait for us.”
This time, Brownie being late was a bonus.
“Okay. LP, Red, do a runner out the back door and over the fence. Brownie’s waiting to pick us up. Turn on the gas on the way out.”
Red and LP turned the oven on as they raced out through the kitchen, with thirty seconds left of Nutter’s ultimatum. Bear stood stock still for a moment, looking out at the bikies. Then he took a deep breath and followed LP and Red through the doorway. He stopped a few metres away and watched as Nutter’s bikies entered the house.
Like a herd of cattle smelling the slaughterhouse, the bikies realised that what they smelt was danger. They scrambled to get out, climbing and pushing at each other. Bear opened his metal signature lighter, turned the flame to high, and flicked the lighter through the air like a boomerang.
Bang! All the windows blew out with a huge explosion of fire, and smoke billowed out through all the windows and doors.
LP called, “Come on, Bear, don’t just stand there. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Hello? There’s been an accident at 23 Mullet Lane, Teerwah Beach. Send police, ambulance and garbage trucks. There a lot of rubbish to clean up.” Bear hung up his mobile and said, “You go. I won’t make it over that fence.”
“Come on, Bear, where’s the grisly Bear from the old days? We’ll be over that fence quick smart.”
LP turned and ran along the fence, then raised his hands, placed them on the fence ridge and, in one quick motion, lifted himself from one side to the other. Bear did the same, running full bore, and threw himself over the fence.
“No problem!”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Bear yelled as he climbed into the van.
LP said, “Where to now?’
Red said, “Let’s go find Mason. He’ll know where George is. Mason’s in Brighton, at the Masonic Retirement Home. Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the gates of the sprawling retirement complex. Brownie parked right outside the main building, and the guys all got out and headed through the entrance.
LP said to the receptionist, “We’re here to see Mason.”
She replied, “We’re all Masons here; this is the Masonic Retirement Home. Everyone comes in here a Mason, and leaves a Mason.”
“Cut the bullshit,” Bear interrupted. “We’re here to see your head shorang, top dog, you know.”
“Oh, you want to see the CEO.”
Mason’s title was a cover for his other role as Grand Master of all things Masonic, protector of the craft and overseer of secrets passed down from biblical times. He had been anointed by his father and was a leader who believed in a supreme being, but never said what God was.
His father had told him that they were direct descendants of the Knights Templer, an order that was disbanded in 1307. The Knights Templar had travelled across Europe and sailed to Scotland, escaping a death ordered by the Vatican in Rome.
Finally their secrets would cross the ocean to the new world. From the Boston Tea Party to George Washington, future presidents would influence the course of history, drawing on their connection to the craft.
Mason’s descendents not only migrated to America but also Australia. As a remnant of those people, they protected the secret knowledge that would lead them to glorious immortality.
“Call him what you want; just show us his office.”
“I’m sorry, you’ll need an appointment. How about Tuesday next week?”
Bear started to get angry, shouting, “Do I have to jump the counter and rip your bloody head off? Where is he?”
In fear, the receptionist replied, “Down the hallway; turn left.”
The guys started walking down the hallway, and were soon stopped by a security officer.
LP put out his hand and gave the man a secret Mason handshake, then they went on their way.
“How did you know their secret handshake?” asked Brownie.
LP replied, “Internet, mate; whatever you want to know, just look it up there.”
Bear opened the office door, and there was Mason sitting at his desk. Behind him were the old goat horns, sprawling a metre across the wall.
Mason asked, “What are you guys doing here?”
“George has some trouble heading his way, and you know where he is.”
“I’ll give you directions.”
Bear said, “No, you’re coming with us. Ring through and tell the receptionist you’re taking the afternoon off.”
The old friends walked back out to the car park and got in the van.
Bear said, “Step on it, Brownie. Mason, you’re the navigator.”
“We’ve got to get to George before the bikies do,” said LP.
“Okay, okay,” said Brownie. “I’m going as fast as I can. We don’t want to get booked.”
About forty minutes later, Mason pointed to a large mountain near the road. “George is up there. After we get through the rain forest, you’ll see a banana plantation backing onto state forest – that’s where we’ll find George.”
The rainforest track became narrower as they left the road behind, the canopy swallowing any sunlight. The air was damp as they climbed higher and higher. Suddenly, the road took a sharp hook turn, overlooking a thousand-metre drop.
Mason yelled, “Hard left!”
Too late. Brownie hit the guard rail and bounced off it before regaining control.
“Woooh! That was close.”
By this time, a thunderstorm had engulfed the rainforest, and the van descended a long, steep, straight road.
They were not far from George now, as the rain pounded against the windscreen. Brownie could just see a yellow barrier on the roadway. He slowly braked, avoiding skidding off the cliff face. They all got out of the van and realised how close they had come to being washed away. The guys kept going on foot, climbing up the track leading out of the rain forest into an open clearing. The storm clouds had disappeared, and sunshine started to warm their drenched bodies.
At the bottom of the hill, the causeway was swollen with flood waters. Mason pointed out George’s mountain top retreat, and walked over to what appeared to be George’s place.