A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS BY TONY KNEIPP

WARNING: SOME WORDS MAY OFFEND SOME READERS

Scene: Behind the Endeavour Beach police station one fine evening.

Sean: (sucking on the bong, spluttering and coughing a little) Good shit! Where'd you get this from?

Sharon: It's from that Dixon street bust. I had to weigh the exhibits. It looked too good to waste completely, so I tickled the bags.

Sean: Talking about the good stuff, I believe you're partial to these! (He produces a small ziplock plastic bag containing something very small, suggesting acid, and hands it to Sharon.)

Sharon: How strong's this stuff?

Sean: Try them and see what you think.

Sharon: Thanks. I've got a weekend off coming up, I'll save them up for then.

Sean: I can always get more.

Sharon : I'll give these a go first. But it's not like pot. I don't do it that much. Just once in a while, when I've got a bit of time off and the mood strikes me.

Sean: Speaking about moods, what about going over to Cavendish Bay, to Johnno's weekender, spending a bit of time together.

Sharon: You're not going to give me that line about doing a bit of fishing, are you?

Sean: No, well, I think we're a bit past that now, aren't we.

Sharon: Why not?

Sean: That's what I like about you. I can just be straight up with you. You can have a conversation without it being one big explanation and one big excuse, and nag, nag, nag. People just don't realise what it's like. That's why us cops have got to stick together. We're expected to muck out the sewers of society and come up squeaky clean every time. It's fiction. There's the official version and what really happens. We all know that. It's all just a game. No matter what, the people here will always smoke. They're shitty people, you'll never stop it. So what you end up with is a management plan with a bit of taxation. That way it doesn't all get out of control. That's why we've all got to stick together and make sure none of us lands in the shit.

Sharon: Has anyone ever told you you take yourself too seriously? (She kisses him.)

Sean: But seriously, how would you like to make some easy money, say $400 a month?

Sharon: And what do I have to do to earn that sort of money?

Sean: That's the beauty of it. You don't have to do anything.

Sharon: Do nothing? Pull the other one!

Sean: No, that's just it. All you've got to do is turn a bit of a blind eye now and then, and not see certain things happen, and maybe not be in certain places at certain times. That's all.

Sharon: Sean, I like you, but I'm not for you, and I'm not for Kelly, I'm for me. You don't need to worry about me anyway, I'm not going to say anything to the boss. He'd just look at me stupid and wonder what I was on about anyway. I just don't want to get caught up in it all. Can't things just go on the way they are?

Sean: Yeah, sure, forget I mentioned it. I just wanted to let you in on it, that's all. Still want to go over to the Bay?

Sharon: Sure. Let's go. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back. You want to stay out of trouble, don't you? (She laughs.)

Scene: The office of the Tropicana Motel.

As the on-stage lights come up, Amber and Sean are again sitting around the office desk.)

Sean: How's it going?

(Amber produces a manila envelope from a desk drawer and slides it across to Sean.)

Sean: How much is there?

Amber: Ten grand.

Sean: So where's the rest?

Amber: I've already reinvested 12 in four pounds of primo weed. We can get more, too.

Sean: That's Gordon and Steve?

Amber: Right. The shit we're getting, there's no seed, pure head, it's got no stem to speak of, deep red, smells magnificent.

Sean: What about the price?

Amber: Yeah, for what it is, great.

Sean: So what about the rest?

Amber: We're still owed about eight. That should all come in, maybe half this week, half next week. It's taking our people a bit of time to get going, you'd expect that, but I'm keeping a close eye on it.

Sean: That's thirty, the media reports kept saying 100 grand. So how come?

Amber: Police estimates, newspaper talk, meanwhile back in the real world. Truth is, when it was all dried and cleaned up, that's all there was, about 17 pounds. That's not including the leaf. People only want the good stuff these days. It's got to be heads. The leaf was useless, I was flat out giving it away. I ended up ditching most of it with the stalks.

Sean: At 17 pounds it still doesn't add up.

Amber: The best I could get was two and a half a pound. I had to drop the price on half of the pounds to move them in one go, but that got us cashed up straight away. And we must have given away a pound at least in samples. And you took half a pound or more yourself. And I gave the girls a pound each for using their place. They were taking a fair risk after all. That much stuff still drying stinks to high heaven. We're going to have to think of things like that, get a bit more organised.

(She pauses for a moment, then continues.)

Don't look so long in the face. Thirty grand is better than a poke in the eye with a burnt stick. And the good news is we've now got three lots of people moving it for us, as well as what we're getting rid of ourselves. The way I look at it our biggest problem is going to be keeping up supply.

Sean: I'm working on that. So what are we making on the stuff you just got?

Amber: In round figures, we're paying about $200 an ounce, we make $50, our dealers make $50, unless of course, they split it up into fifties or whatever. That's up to them, as long as they move it.

Sean: That doesn't sound like much. You could get that sort of margin selling books or CD's or something.

Amber: But nothing like the same demand. It adds up quickly enough. Judging by the last lot, it'll only take us about a week to turn this lot around. That's 3 grand in a week, and that's just for starters. We could move twice that easy if we could get the supplies.

Sean: I think we can do that.

Amber: I've been working on something else as well. Check this out.

(She holds up a small plastic bag containing a dozen tiny ochre pills.)

Sean: What the hell!

Amber: No doubt these are more familiar. They're pretty much the same as the samples you had. (She hands Sean a small sheet of blotters, about the size of a playing card. Sean puts the tiny pills down on the desk as he takes the sheet of acid tabs from Amber.)

Sean: Superman. Acid.

Amber: (grabbing the tiny pills off the desk and waving them around) So's this. Micro dots. Mighty stuff. They're a bit more expensive, though. I got these through an old mate in the Cross. If I get enough of the blotters, I can get them for three bucks a pop. We sell them to the dealers for seven, more than double our money, and they act like it's Christmas on wheels, like you've done 'em a big favour, or something. It doesn't smell, you can hide it just about anywhere - it's great!

Sean: So you think it's OK, there's no problem with this?

Amber: God said we weren't to touch smack or speed. He didn't say anything about acid. I figure it's OK, or he would have said. I figure we can do a bit of barter, too, swap trips for dope.

Sean: What's the other stuff there?

Amber: That's a couple of weights of smack, and a couple of coke.

Sean: I thought we weren't doing that shit?

Amber: That's for Mick and Johnno. It's a bit of you scratch my back, after all they're moving more that anybody else. It's just like a private arrangement, so I figured it was OK.

Sean: Fair enough, as long as they don't do anything stupid.

Amber: Mate, I was crystal clear. It's for them, and only them. Otherwise, I'd break the whole thing off, no more pot, no acid, nothing. They understood.

Sean: So what's the coke for?

Amber: Buggered if I know. My friend just threw it in as a bit of a sample. Apparently, it's all the rage in Sydney - again. I can get more, but I don't know if there's really enough of a market up here to bother with. I'm not too sure where we'd stand with God on that one, either. It's good gear, almost 100% pure. You want to try some?

Sean: I don't know, is that really a good idea?

Amber: It's just like an upmarket form of speed. It doesn't stop you doing things, it just makes you more confident, that warm inner glow.

Sean: I know what coke is.

Amber: I tell you what, we'll both do a line. It'll lighten you up a bit.

(Amber pulls out a small mirror and two drinking straws. She sets up two lines of coke, does a line herself, then passes the mirror and a straw to Sean, who follows suit.)

Sean: Yeehah! Not Bad. Shit, I feel about ten foot tall and bullet-proof. Look out world!

Amber: Don't get too manic. Here, this'll help steady you down a bit.

(She produces a can of beer for each of them which they immediately open.)

Amber: To business!

Sean: To business!

Scene: The HomePage Cafe.

As the lights come up, Sgt Kelly is seated at a cafe table with a plate of food in front of him. Janelle, dressed trendily but with an apron on, is standing next to the table. To one side we see a large chalkboard with HomePage Cafe in large, multi-coloured letters on top, along with the day's menu.)

Kelly: So how's business?

Janelle: Slow. And I don't need to tell you why.

Kelly: How bad?

Janelle: We're only making half what we were six months ago.

Kelly: How come? I thought we were doing more than that.

Janelle: We're moving about a third less. But some of our people were getting a bit grumpy. They were getting used to the money, I guess.

Kelly: Weren't we all!

Janelle: Anyway, I had to sweeten the deals a bit to keep them happy. So basically, they've not only cut into our sales, they've cut into our margins as well.

Kelly: I don't have a problem with that, as long as you manage to keep things together. No one owes us millions?

Janelle: No, I've been keeping it pretty tight.

Kelly: No one's jumped ship?

Janelle: No, not really. Robert took off for Sydney, but he was going anyway. He probably left a couple of months earlier than he might have, that's all.

Kelly: Well, I'll leave all that in your capable hands. Just let me know if we run into any real trouble. We can't afford to fall into a hole.

Janelle: You know the pimply little prick hit on me last week! As if!

Kelly: Maybe you should have gone along with him. That way we could have found out what he's up to.

Janelle: Hang on a minute! Unlike his partner, there are some parts of me that are not for sale.

Kelly: Take it easy. I was only pulling your leg.

Janelle: Just because I like a good time and the good things in life, that doesn't make me a slut or a pro. A girl's got to have some self-respect. There's some things that are OK even if they're not legal, and some things that are beyond the pale, even if they are legal.

Kelly: I wouldn't know. I'm a cop.

Janelle: What the hell's that supposed to mean?

Kelly: The law's the law, without fear or favour.

Janelle: Fair go! Jeez, I can't tell if you're serious or just bullshitting half the time. It's a worry!

Kelly: (angry) It's that little shit that's the worry. He's not only biting into our business, he's making me look like an idiot!

Janelle: Take it easy! We'll have the last laugh. He's just a flash in the pan. All we've got to do is outlast him, and not get caught up in his bullshit. That's the most important thing. Otherwise we'll all be in the shit, for sure.

Kelly: You're right. We mustn't get carried away. (suddenly angry) But that's what the little prick is counting on! I'd certainly like to pull him down a peg or two right now.

Janelle: They've been selling it by the pound out of the Tropicana. The amount of shit that shoots out of there is unbelievable. I heard they're about to get another lot in - about 10 pounds or so. They're paying three and a half a pound, really good value because it's all top quality head. What if we ripped them off, that'd be a slap in the face for them. It'd be bound to set them back a bit.

Kelly: Now you're talking! A raid goes down, but all they get charged for is an ounce or two, the rest ends up with us. Our timing's got to be spot on, otherwise we'll come up empty handed and looking like complete bloody dills.

Janelle: Leave that side of things to me. These growers are as paranoid as hell. They come down every three or four months. If your guys go sniffing around at the wrong time they'll blow town for sure.

Kelly: You know the powers that be have given the little prick the job of drug intelligence officer? I'm supposed to ask him what's going on around here, or keep him on top of any solid tip offs.

Janelle: Let's not tell him just this once. (They both laugh.)

You see, you haven't lost your sense of humour completely. I can see how he gets right up your nostrils. He thinks he's pretty bloody clever, laughing up his sleeve at us the whole time. But as long as we have the last laugh. That way the joke's on him.

Scene: Inside the Endeavour Beach police station.

(As the lights come up, Constable Sharon Bennett is working at a computer terminal. Sgt Kelly enters the room, stage left.)

Kelly: There's someone asking for you at the counter. Says it's urgent!

(As Sharon goes out to see who is at the counter, Kelly immediately jumps onto the computer, and starts fiddling around with it. He quickly jumps up again, just before Sharon walks back in.)

Sharon: There's no one there!

Kelly: He must have shot through. If it was important enough, he'll come back. Maybe he's gone outside for a minute. I'll go and check. (Kelly exits stage left. Moments after Kelly leaves, Constable Sean Hall enters stage right. He is in plain clothes , ie much like any other public servant. He now appears in plain clothes throughout the rest of the play. Kelly remains in uniform throughout.)

Sean: Hi gorgeous! Enjoy your weekend?

Sharon: (giggles) You'd better play it cool. Kelly's been watching me like a hawk this morning. He's been acting funny, I reckon he's on to us.

Sean: Who gives a shit what he thinks? We're adults. It's none of his business.

Sharon: It's not that simple and you know it. I'll catch up with you later. For now we'd better keep our heads down. Look out, here he comes.

(enter Kelly)

Kelly: Well, look who's here, it's the playboy of the western world! You'll be the one who sends these, charming, romantic e-mails. (He waves a piece of paper around.)

Kelly: (reads) To the Queen of Hearts. Hope you liked my present inside the cover. I know you are partial to these. But then everyone likes Superman. I can always get more if you want.

Love and kisses. S.

Now let me see. Who could that be? I've got it! It's S for Superman. (to Sean who looks as though it's taking all his effort not to knock Kelly's block off on the spot. He glares at Kelly, but will not respond.) Hey lover boy, are you Superman, or is that just what you were flying on when you came up with this masterpiece? What's the matter, cat got your tongue? (He leans over confidentially.) Tell me, what was she like, mate, does she yell much when she comes? (Sean turns half away, fists clenched.)

Sharon: You're disgusting!

Kelly: Yeah, well you could get into a lot of trouble, hanging around with a loser like this! (indicates Sean) This looks bad, doesn't it? Look at the sort of compromising position he's put you in. You could lose everything for this dill! I'm doing you a favour. You can't see it now, but later on you'll thank me for this.

Sharon: Yeah, well you can go to hell! We all know what a paragon of virtue you are!

(She moves across and snatches the paper from Kelly's hand.)

Kelly: (reaching into a pocket, making a full show of it) What's this? Well what do you know? Luckily I kept another copy to send to lover boy's wife. I'm sure it'll make interesting reading for her.

Sean: (no longer able to contain himself) She'll never believe you. You're a grub, Kelly, a filthy stinking maggot!

Kelly: And you're Superman. Not looking too invulnerable at the moment, though, are you? Watch out for that kryptonite! And just be careful leaping off any tall buildings!

Scene: At a bus stop under a street light, late at night.

(As the lights come up, Janelle is standing alone at a bus stop under a street light. As she glances at her watch, we hear heavy knocking a few doors down the street, offstage right. A voice offstage shouts Police, open up. A flurry of scuffling feet can be heard as the same voice calls out again, this time softer and with some urgency, Round the back, quick, round the back.

A man calls out in response to the commotion, Who is it? The first voice replies, Police! I have a warrant to search these premises. A door opens, followed by a clatter of feet going up the front stairs. The door slams, then silence. A short time later Kelly appears in the light carrying two stripy carry bags and hands them to Janelle.)

Kelly: It went like clockwork. It's all here.

Janelle: Well done!

Kelly: You'd better get out of here. (Janelle exits stage left. Moments later a plainclothes detective, Sgt Gibson, better known to his mates as Gibbo, suddenly appears from the shadows stage right and walks over to where Kelly is standing. He is carrying an airline style bag with him.)

Gibbo: You didn't tell her about the readies, did you?

Kelly: No.

Gibbo: One less mouth for Mr Whippy to feed. The boys'll be happy with this. (He gestures to the bag.) There's no chance of these guys squealing about this stuff going missing?

Kelly: Did you give them a receipt? (They both laugh.)

Gibbo: Good one!

Kelly: No, they know what's good for them. They won't be looking for any extra attention. They'll cop it sweet.

Gibbo: I was going to charge one of them with a couple of ounces, and the other guy with some seeds and a bong.

Kelly: Sounds about right. When it comes up I'll sort it out, do up the paperwork and brief the prosecutor, if it's not me, so the beak never gets to see any previous. It'll be a slap on the wrist, a fine, a bit of community service. They'll figure they've got off lightly. They're not going to open their mouths and land themselves in it.

Gibbo: Sounds good to me. But what about buggerlugs?

Kelly: Just leave him to me.