Coating Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Charlie Jennings

Charlie Jennings had done alright. His father, Big Charlie had set up his little empire in the Melbourne docks during the Painters and Docker’s strife in the sixties and early seventies, by the time young Charlie was on the wharf ships didn’t get unloaded without Big Charlies say-so. When Old Charlie retired he handed the reins of his empire over to his son; that had been twenty years ago and in ensuing years Charlie had spread his tentacles far and wide into all sorts of nasty money makers. He was heavily involved in the BLF and other collective bargaining groups, he laundered money, he lent money, protection, a couple of brothels and he also owned a couple of legitimate operations; a very good restaurant and a pub, it was irrelevant how they operated as they were a source to launder his ill-gotten gains, but somehow both places made money under their own steam.

Now in 2007 his Melbourne operations were run by his son and his nephew and he spent most of his time in Noosa where he ran his small but lucrative Brisbane operation, he owned a pub in Fortitude Valley that was a little gold mine and he operated a money lending business out of an office above a fast food restaurant in Brunswick Street, a brothel and a few other shady operations; most of his Brisbane businesses ran themselves, he had quality managers paid them well and simply took the money.

Charlie had two passions; his waterside home in Noosa Heads that he moved into after his dad had past away, Big Charlie had paid 300 grand for the place in 1985 it was now worth three million; he had a boat on the canal system there that had deep water access and took the boat out as often as he could. His other passion was motor cars, quality motors and he had a collection of them. His pub was on one end of Anne Street at the other was The European Motor Company that sold everything from Alfa’s to Bentley’s and Charlie was one of their best customer.

Although Charlie had millions he still done a lot of the things around the house himself, as he was fussy about who might be sniffing around; he cut his own grass and washed his own cars, washing the cars was a labour of love, he never considered it work. Sunday’s were days he spent at home, he loved his boat and fishing, but there were too many nutters out there on a Sunday on jet ski’s and speed boats, they can have it, Sunday was for the family and home. He’d putter around the garden cook lunch on the barbecue and wash the cars. His wife Lynne owned a little Peugeot 307 and his latest passion was a baby Bentley or Continental GTC to give it its full name, it was a few months old and still smelled like a new car, he looked at it admiringly before he climbed in and turned her on. The five litre engine burst into life, he opened the large door with the remote and reversed out of the garage onto the drive outside his house.

It was a perfect Queensland autumn morning, clear and warm, and as he filled the bucket with water from the hose he was completely unaware that he was being watched.

*

Dave and Paul had left the Gold Coast the previous day and cruised up to the Sunshine Coast looking for what they wanted; they had spent Saturday in Mooloolaba and found a couple of possibilities, but Noosa had a lot more promise. Paul had been given a near new Jaguar to use; it came with the apartment and the best wishes of the ubiquitous Dawson, Paul’s custodian. They had driven around the sleeping streets of Noosa and couldn’t believe their eyes or their luck when the Bentley appeared before them.

“Holy fuck! A Baby Bentley!” Paul announced, almost too excited to contain himself. “What’s the address?” He asked as they watched Charlie from a distance as he went about washing the English classic motor car. “This is providence but, not simple.” Paul explained.

“Why?” Asked Dave.

“Because almost as soon as we take it he’s going to know its gone, and he’ll be on to the police pronto, and as flash as this place is, you’ll have noticed that there aren’t too many Baby Bentleys roaming the streets. We’ll stand out like a dog's bollocks.”

“So what are we going to do?” Dave asked.

Paul had a think, “does Gavin move pianos on Sundays?” he asked.

*