Coasting

Chapter One
Dave & Paul

It was almost eight o’clock, the morning was bright, but the winter sun offered little comfort, Dave dug deep into his parker as the heater only
worked when the engine was running, and Dave was conserving his fuel, his money, Dave was conserving everything.

At exactly eight o’clock the door beside the main gate open and two men appeared, they said something to each other, a hand was offered by one, but ignored by the other; the men separated, one returned inside the building the other took a few tentative steps away from the door and saw Dave waiting in his car and briskly walked towards him. Dave jumped out of the car and greeted the man like a long lost brother, which of course is exactly what he was, but he was never lost; he had just spent twelve months in the Woodford Correctional Centre. They shook hands warmly, and then got into the car.

“Where to?” Asked Dave
.
“As far from this fucking place as possible.” Paul replied and Dave turned on the engine and headed the car towards Brisbane.

“So how was it?” Dave asked.

“I’m never going back Dave, it’s taught me that much, but in saying that, I’ve met someone and it might be the opportunity we’ve been looking for.”

Dave and Paul Williams had been in trouble with various authorities for as long as they could remember; mum and dad at first, then school officials, and eventually the police, petty stuff mainly; a bit of arson; not really Dave’s fault, bit of shop lifting which graduated to break and entering, bit of car theft, it was easier than working and more lucrative, but inevitably they got caught. The first time they were caught handling stolen goods, they received a fine. Then they knocked off a couple of ton of lead from someone who’d already stolen it from someone else, the first bloke reported the loss to the police who told them that they would find the contraband in the back of Dave’s truck inside Simms’s metal yard; there is no honour among thieves.

When you get arrested the first time for petty stuff it’s normally a fine, the second time it’s a stiffer fine with the promise of jail should you recommit; so you know the score. Paul’s third offence was for being the patsy in a truck hi-jacking. It was a step up a division for him; a driver was needed and Paul, who was known by a local biker asked him if he was interested, the money was good and everything would have been sweet except for a tip off and Paul was pulled over on the Bruce Highway just south of Gympie. And that was that, he had done his time, he kept his mouth shut and ‘copped it sweet,’ but he would dearly loved to know who shopped him; but the consequences of finding out could be dire. Might be worth it, probably wouldn’t be, time would help.

They drove through the northern suburbs of Brisbane, past the airport, over the Gateway Bridge and down to the Gold Coast, getting to the Coolangatta Surf Club just in time for opening. Dave bought a couple of beers and they sat by the window over looking the beach; the surf was breaking, it was mesmerising; they watched the surf break along the beach for a few minutes before Paul spoke.

“I shared a cell with a bloke called Mahesh.”
“Mahesh?” Dave echoed.

“Mahesh,” Paul repeated, “he’s from Bombay, but he’s an Aussie citizen, been here for fuckin’ years. He has contacts in the overseas car market.”

“What’s that?” Dave asked.

“In the Middle East, Saudi, Kuwait, the Emirates, and these days India, they like their cars, their prestige cars; Rollers, Beamers, Jags, big price tags, y’know, and if we can find anything like that preferably complete with keys etc he will pay us top dollar for them. In Australia we will probably only find right hand drive stuff and that ideal for India. We find ‘em, we pass ‘em on to Mahesh”

“And how much is top dollar?” Dave asked.

“Five, ten grand,” Paul guessed.

“Five or ten grand for a two hundred grand car, he’s taking the piss in’t he?” Dave snapped.

“If you score a couple of cars a week its twenty grand in your pocket Dave, about twenty fuckin’ grand more than you have at the moment; right?”

“Right.” Dave conceded.

“After you get another drink in I’ll tell you how we are going to get these cars.” Paul told his brother. Dave went to the bar and bought another couple of beers and found Paul gazing in to the horizon when he returned.

“Fuck I’ve missed this.” Paul said, “I want to go for a surf this afternoon Dave, you coming?”

“It’s a bit too breezy for me, but I’ll hold your coat. So how are we going to acquire these prestige motors complete with keys etc Paul,” Dave asked with more than a little cynicism in his voice.

“We need the keys, there is a lot of drama with the computers in these things if you don’t have them and I have the perfect plan that separates the car from its owner, it’s so easy I‘m surprised we never thought of it before.” And Paul explained his master plan and then they had another beer at the club before they went looking for Paul’s new home.

Paul had done his stretch without fuss, he hadn’t mentioned any names, he didn’t grass on anyone or dob anyone in; and as a reward for his loyalty he was looked after. When they left the club they drove along the coast to Surfers Paradise and started looking for a high rise with Paul’s name on it. Paul had an address on a piece of paper and Dave followed his directions along the coast.

“This is it Dave; looks like I’m staying here.” Paul said as they pulled up outside a very attractive building right on the front.
They rode the lift to the 16th floor; not the penthouse but certainly not the basement either. They located the flat and went in; they were suitably impressed, a large two bedroom unit tastefully decorated with views to the New South Wales boarder. Paul walked out to the balcony and took in the full sweep of the beach. This is alright thought Paul. “This’ll do me,” he said to Dave who was inspecting the contents of the fridge as Paul took in the view.

“Who’s picking up the tab for this?” Dave asked, checking out the fridge.

“Dawson,” Paul called from the balcony.

“And you don’t mind being in his pocket?”

“It’ll do ‘til something better comes along; it’s either this or camping at your place, and besides he owes me.” Dave took a couple of beers from the fridge and went outside and joined his brother on the balcony, the day had warmed up and a light breeze made it almost perfect.

“So what are you doing these days?” Paul asked.

“I’m helping Gavin move fuckin’ piano’s” Dave said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.”

“Keeping you out of trouble?” Paul asked with a smirk more than a smile.

Dave looked at Paul. “So when do we start?” Dave asked, anxious to get some money into his account, the last few weeks had been hard and the thought of moving any more piano’s with Gav was definitely losing its appeal.