How I Became the Mr. Big of People Smuggling Read Online Free PDF Page A

do it.’ He made some banging noises and swore some more.
    â€˜Sounds like that bolt doesn’t know how to be useful.’
    â€˜Oh, he’s bein’ useful all right. Sometimes, resistance is put there to test you. Check ya resolve.’ Some gentler tapping sounds. ‘Might need to get the grinder onto this one.’ He made a long hard grunting noise. ‘Arrrgh, got you! See. They always give up as soon as they know you’re serious.’
    â€˜You should write your thoughts down. Collected wisdom from the gene pool.’
    â€˜Very funny.’
    â€˜No, I’m serious. Write it down before you forget stuff.’
    But he had laughed at the idea that anything he thought about would be part of his way of being useful to anyone.
    â€˜Nah. I’m a mechanic.’
    It took us three hours to get the six vans ready. By then it was late afternoon and I was hungry. In the canteen Cookie was angry, and he took it out on us. The stockhands sat at one of the tables talking and joking loudly and already there was a crowd of empty beer cans littered about. There was nothing Cookie could do about the stockhands so he ignored them. It was Spanner and I who copped it.
    â€˜Lunch! Nearly dinnertime. You come back then. I’m not here now. Afternoons is my time.’
    â€˜Why are you here then?’ I asked. We knew he wasn’t going to leave the canteen unattended.
    â€˜C’mon. Let us go make a sandwich,’ Spanner said. ‘You can stay out here keep an eye on them.’ He pointed to the drunken muster crew who were racking up for pool and a long session.
    Very clever, Spanner, I thought.
    â€˜You tidy up,’ Cookie said. ‘Then I might. You’re not setting foot in my kitchen without me.’
    Cookie didn’t like muster time. When it was only the few of us on-site he could smoke until he was off his face and still cook wonderful food but when the crews were all crowding around and drinking he had to remain sober. It was the only way to deal with the influx of hungry workers, who insulted him by insulting his food. They made a mess and raided his ‘herb’ garden and argued about the girls. But to Cookie, who daily made fresh bread and rolls, the highlight of civilisation was the sandwich. To him, anyone who knew how to load fresh ingredients in the correct manner onto a crusty roll was okay, and the chance to have us there with him while the crew drank themselves stupid in the dining hall was too good to pass.
    â€˜Where’s Palmenter? I thought he was here. S’pose he wants one too?’
    â€˜He’s gone.’
    â€˜Took off.’
    We spoke at the same time.
    Unlikely. Palmenter would never have left without eating. Cookie raised his eyes.
    â€˜Oh?’
    â€˜New plan,’ I said before Spanner could speak. ‘Whole new way of doing business. We’re going back to the old way, the vans, small groups driving to the city. He had some urgent things to organise. He’s left me in charge. He’s on his way back to Sydney to run that end, needs to get some things set up before the imports start arriving.’
    Cookie was looking at me. I could see he was trying to figure out whether to believe the rubbish I had just garbled. I kept talking.
    â€˜Six vans, so you’ll need to make up six food packs. Like before, we’ll send them off a day apart, four or five in each van. Sorry about missing lunch, but as you know, when Palmenter is here, well, what can you do?’
    Cookie continued to look but not speak. Spanner backed me up.
    â€˜Go on, make us a sandwich, Cookie, I’ve got a hunger now. We’ve still got to write up all the paperwork, too. Be well into the night, just be thankful all you have to deal with is a few empty cans on the floor.’
    â€˜Well, okay,’ he grumbled. If he didn’t agree he would have just said no, or asked for more details, but he said, ‘You want herbs on your