Trash - Andy Mulligan [8]
‘What?’
He was smiling wider than I’d ever seen him smile, and his broken teeth stuck out like straws. ‘I’ve seen these so many times, OK – I can tell you exactly what it is and where it is. You give me that fifty? Now? Make it a hundred, or you get no further.’
‘You know what it is? Really?’
Rat nodded.
I pulled out some notes, and counted them out on the cardboard. There was a skittering of feet behind the wall, and I heard something running right round the little room, surrounding us. There were squeakings again: the place was alive. Gardo and I sat on, looking at Rat, waiting for his great piece of information.
‘Central Station,’ he said softly. ‘I lived there nearly a year, when I came in first of all. I can tell you for sure: this is a locker key for the left luggage. Just outside platform four, last block on the right. One-oh-one’s small, up at the top – the cheapest they do. This man’s left something there.’
He smiled again and we sat there, just looking at each other. Gardo whistled, and I felt my heart beat faster and faster.
‘You wanna go there?’ said Rat. ‘We go there now if you want.’
5
Gardo here, and I take the story on from Raphael.
We agreed to split the story because some things he forgets – like he wanted to go to the station that night, right then, and then the next day, like a little kid. He got so excited thinking about what he might find, I had to say no about ten times, because one thing I knew was that we had to be there, in Behala, for the big search – especially if the policemen who talked to us were there.
I had to get a hold of his hair and I said, ‘How is it going to look when everyone is there to earn money, and the boy they know found something – maybe a shoe, or maybe something else – doesn’t show?’
Raphael is my best friend but he’s like a kid, always laughing, playing, thinking everything’s fun, thinking it’s a game – so I said they have to see us working and looking, and that way maybe they leave us alone: and so we waited.
Next morning, like I said, the whole of Behala turns out, early and ready, before dawn. Like Raphael said, we get money for what we can sell, hand to mouth, so getting paid for the day is like a dream, and there were way too many pickers – I guess people had told people, and there were crowds of us, all piling in. Then the police arrived early also, and even as the sun came up, everyone was way up on the trash – men, women and every damn kid, even the tiny ones – earning their precious hundred, some without even hooks, just using hands – in fact, there were so many of us, it was dangerous, and you could feel the trash sliding about, and there was no room to throw the stuff you’d sorted.
I was hooking stuff up, scratching other people almost, and it was more and more dangerous, so after one hour all us kids were ordered off, and just the men stayed on, and the trash was being gone through again – right by where we’d been the previous day. The managers were there, talking to the police, shouting up to the men – and it was all being picked over and over, again and again. But nothing was coming up.
All the while, more cars – police car, then another police car, then a police truck, motorbikes, more police cars, and then big cars like government cars – and men in suits as well as police, getting out and their nice shoes getting wet and filthy. And it’s still not seven o’clock and you can’t move for the cars and people, like it’s a festival.
No belts were working, as they turned them all off.
Things get worse.
Soon we can see the line of trucks coming in is stretching right back through the gates and down the road, waiting to unload: after just one hour I’d counted twenty-six. The drivers didn’t even care at first – they squatted in the shade, and some boys went off to get them tea and cigarettes. There were kids jumping into the trucks then, and picking there, on the roadside, but me and Raphael stayed down, listening around for more ‘information’, me wondering all the time where this was going to end – knowing,