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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rory was nursing an aching elbow. He didn't consciously remember when he had done anything to it, but was sure it was a delayed effect of the car accident. That seemed ages ago only it wasn't.
With the aid of branch and some wire rope they saw back along the track, they had got the vehicle back on its wheels and managed to get it going. They'd come back to town and went straight to the pub for a calming drink. Dan was elated. He reckoned it was the most eventful week he had lived through since the cattle got loose in the main street back in something or other. Leaving him, Tania dragged Rory down to the police station. He was reluctant to go, his track record with police dealings sewn with a little mistrust. She assured him this was New South Wales and not the steamy backwaters of Asia. It wasn't the easiest of interviews, probably because it was construed they were stepping on the official toes of the Bedford investigation. Tania was in her league. Obviously the Darius's hadn't got to where they were without handling all sorts of people. His thoughts had time to wonder. After all he was only the support act here. The light from a side window caught her shape at one stage, and he reconfirmed how well built she was. Wondered how she would look without the shirt.
Then it was outside. "A little rap on the fingers, but should stir some action," she murmured as the got into the vehicle.
They managed to find a garage and hire a replacement Toyota at an exorbitant price, but Tania wasn’t phased, as he expected. He wondered how the hire company back in Walgett would react when they saw their vehicle. Once in the front seat, she turned to him.
“Fancy getting your clothes off?”
Rory was a bit taken back, then jumped in. "You're place or mine?" he said with the most serious face he could muster.
"Neither. I like an audience.”
Now he was starting to worry. This business was going to her head. She looked at him and gave a smirk. "You got no hope mister. I want a swim and the local pool seems the place to go. Probably the only place to go.”
He looked at her and smiled. They stopped at the hotel and she reappeared a few minutes later with a small carry bag. He on the other hand never thought about swimming, only the bare necessities. Travelling as he did and living rough, meant the less baggage you had was less to worry about. The pool was reasonable for a town this size, and well patronised. Tania reappeared in a one piece that must have been styled by Dior and cost appropriately. More than one head was turned. As a few glances were made at him, as the partner of such attractiveness, he felt maybe a swim would be both appropriate and refreshing. Then Tania was up and without a second look at him, went to the pool edge and executed a perfect side dive. He could tell two teenage boys nearby were suitably impressed, as was he. It was when she turned her head and he saw the momentary smile on her face, he knew this was also a challenge. A wander up to the pool attendant, who was
sitting on a chair in the shade, produced an old pair of Stubbies boxer shorts, for a fee. Rory went to the dressing shed, washed them under the shower and changed. His dive was fairly acceptable and timed when she was looking. Swift and powerful strokes guided him to her position, but when he stopped, found she had moved. He followed. This was to be a cat and mouse manoeuvre. Diving underneath he surfaced nearby.
"Couldn't resist the challenge," he gasped.
"You overestimate yourself."
A large boy did a bomb next to her, causing her to wipe her eyes.
When the kid looked at her to see the effect, he probably wished he hadn't.
"Sonny boy. Do that again and you won't walk for a week." The young person's smile vanished and giving her the finger, swam away.
"You have a charming way with words," said Rory, then gave her a splash and dived underneath. When he surfaced, she was not on top of the water. Then a weight on his shoulders as she surfaced and tried to submerge him. He shut his mouth in time, somersaulted and came up under her legs. She rose half out of the water then fell forward. There was a slight splutter as she came up and faced him. He saw the momentary fire in her eyes. But only momentary. Then she started swimming past him. He later assured himself it was no accident. As she passed he got a touch from her hand. It was not so much the touch but where. Then she was away.
He recovered and swam about but when ever he got near she moved deftly out of the way of any apparent innocent movement. Finally she left the water and with it little doubt to most of the swimmers that she was leaving the pool and saying goodbye. She stretched out on the grass on her stomach. Rory left a little while later and sat near her. "Drink?" he proffered but got no reply. He got up and wandered to the turnstile where a machine sat in the shade. There was a need to get some change and standing out of the sun he started chatting to an older man on the bench next to him. The fellow had two young children.
It turns out they were his grandchildren, down from Ipswich in Queensland. He also new a lot about the town.
"Remember when the round tank went in to catch the bore water,"
he rambled, "Used to bring my daughter down here. Gee, that must have been the middle sixties. Great pool. Dressing shed was made of iron. Stinking hot she was, just like the water when she gushed out of the bore pipe. Much like the beer at the Diggers Rest some days then. Cooling was a bit primitive. More often it a be a wet sack on the keg.”
The kids went off to splash in the kids pool. Rory noticed the old man never let his eyes off them.
"Opal put this place on the map, eh?”
"Sure did," he replied, "same year my grandad was born, they found black opal here. 1903. It was so different to the old milky white opal. Black opal has the fire in it. The greens, blues, violets, buried in the black. Those other precious stones have eloquence but our opal has the essence of life itself. It comes from a man's hands and that personal part of it stays with the stone through it's polishing and mounting. Often the best pieces have never had anything except a gin bar to gouge it out of hiding and a cut and polish.”
At this moment Tania appeared. Rory had forgotten about her.
"I need a shower and drink," she said, "come now if you need a lift, to your motel, otherwise meet me at Two. Someone we need to talk to, if we can find him.”
"You go on. Compared to the motel shower, this has water.”
She tossed her head at his non compliance, then was past him.
The old man gave a sigh. "That lady is like a piece of black opal, if you don't mind me saying. Then you don't need me to say that. The trick is to remove all that potch and earth she has protected herself with, and see her true beauty. If she has that real quality there is no need for a setting to distract the colours.”
An eagle soared overhead in great lazy circles. Both Rory and the other man looked at it without speaking. There was understanding.
"Time to go and keep a closer grandfatherly eye on those two. Nice talking to you. Hope you find a nice stone." A wink then he was moving towards the wading pool.
Rory went back and picked up his clothes. As he left the entrance gate, he saw a woman getting into a car. A woman he knew. Moving quickly he came up to her window. She looked up when she sensed a presence, a fear, that quickly changed to relief.
"Hello," Rory said. "Didn't see you in the water.”
She blushed. "I went in. To be honest I did see you with your....friend. Didn't want to intrude.”
"That lady in the Christian Dior outfit is my boss and she's made it quite clear that the hired help is off limits. Mind you that's a theory yet to be proved. Changing the subject, would Penny mind if I got a lift back to town. I missed the company bus.”
"Penny doesn't mind," and leaned across and opened the passenger door. "Besides I owe you for the support in the restaurant.”
"What, for picking up your galloping peas?”
"You know what I mean.”
They moved out of the car park, which was just a gravel area, and headed for the town. "Thought it was him at the window, didn't you?' he said quietly.
There was a sideways glance. "Yes," was the muted reply.
"You need a friend or a helping hand, you call me. Anyway he wouldn't know you were here. Would he?”
"No." She pulled up at the hotel. "You didn't say where, is this alright?”
Rory thought he might ask to get dropped off at his motel, but decided on a drink first before meeting Tania at Two. "Fine", he replied.’
"Do you think I should worry?" she said as he stepped out of the car.
"About your husband? Not if he was getting a divorce." He came around to her side of the car.
"I was thinking of Manuel," she said.
"Can I ask who Manuel is?”
Just then a tourist bus went by in a cloud of diesel fumes and noise that made it impossible to talk.
"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she said in a quick squeaky voice, "you have your own job to do and not get offside with your boss.”
She started the car up. "Goodbye and thanks again.”
"Wait," he yelled. "Got a pencil? Write down this phone number. It's a good friend and his wife in Sydney." He gave her the number. "If I don't get a chance to see you again here, give me a call.”
She nodded and with a smile, drove off.
Rory watched her car disappear down the street until hidden by a delivery truck. Then he entered the public bar. He never noticed the quiet man sitting at a side table, but the quiet man's drink stopped half way to his mouth when Rory walked in. Then it continued, a half smile on the drinker's face. When finished there was an empty glass and an empty chair. The quiet man had already left the building.
Rory gave a wave to Dusty Dan who was holding court with three tourists and getting an imperceptible nod in return, made his way to the bar and ordered. He didn't know how long Tania would be but he could wait. Besides life looked interesting.
The sound of a horn outside hardly raised an eyebrow in the noisy atmosphere, but Rory knew. He downed his glass and emerged into the afternoon glare. She was there, the big 4x4 purring away and double parked. He got in.
"Enjoying the country life?" she asked as the hit the accelerator and moved quickly down the street. The car that was just moving out around her, sort of gave up.
"Life's kind," he replied, "where're we off to?”
"Dig 44, if I can find it.”
"Is that an omission of possible failure?" he returned, not looking at her.
"Ordinarily I would push you out without stopping, but in your case I might slow down first. Can't have that body of yours covered in bruises.”
Rory sensed an opening here, or a weakening. Perhaps an interest.
"Depends where the bruises are and who's looking at them.”
"OK mister, let's get your mind out of fantasy land and back to the job on hand. Dad will be back in about 5 days from the States and most likely fly up here. I want to have some answers for him. Remember it's your neck as well.”
They were clear of the town limit and into the scrub and grasses that made up this part of the state. Flat. Already mullock heaps were appearing.
Rory was thinking. For all what was happening, he really didn't know what was happening. Obviously it was to do with milking the crop. As they turned off at the same spot as before, he thought it was time to try and get the lay of the land so to speak.
"What exactly has happened?" He left off saying any more in the hope that a minimal approach would sink in better.
It apparently did. "Since you have risked your life and, despite appearances, reasonably intelligent.....cripes!”
She pulled down hard on the wheel as a large goanna suddenly emerged from the Mitchell grass onto the track. They were travelling at a reasonable pace and they left the track as Tania tried to control the vehicle. Bushes and dust hit the new windscreen but as a large clump of mallee trees loomed, she managed to swing back on course before stopping. There was strain on her face then a smile.
"You right?" she asked, looking at him, "sorry about the driving.”
Whilst inwardly his heart was racing, he tried not to show any concern. "Fine. That was skilfully handled.”
She may have been expecting some sarcastic follow up, but there was none. Actually Rory was impressed. She moved off but he did notice a touch slower speed. Once they became confused, but memories came back and eventually the scrub parted to reveal mullock piles and pieces of hardware. Ironically they stopped at the same heap of earth that they last had parked by. And two pairs of concerned eyes looked at the far shed then did a 360ø traverse. There was no movement.
"Let's stick together," Rory suggested. "We'll check each building and then I'll go down...”
"We!”
"We will go down the shaft." He then remembered the saga had yet to be unfolded to him, but decided to play it by ear and try that part later, perhaps in a more congenial setting. With a large spanner in hand, they looked at both sheds but saw nothing different to last time. When a crow ca-awed from a nearby drum, Tania gave a shriek but quickly composed herself. There were no signs of anything out of the ordinary. One pile of unchecked dirt lay on it's crude bench. The gantry bucket hadn't been properly secured. People had obviously left in a hurry.
"What sort of thing are we looking for?" Rory ventured.
"Don't know. Anything that suggests a clue as to where the opals went. Or the men. I don't know. Just look.”
She was getting worried, thought Rory. Pressure for answers. Why would someone go to the lengths of killing unless there was a lot more at stake than a few opals. True, a lot of stones quickly added up to a fortune but not millions.
They reached the shaft and peered down. It was afternoon and the sun was no longer overhead. The shaft disappeared into an infinity of blackness. A dank earthy smell, cool to the face, came out. Rory checked the fuel both for quantity and contaminates, then primed it. It started on the third hit. Good quality he thought, 4 stroke with an electric start. Not like the old ones he had used in other places. In other times.
"One of us need to stay topside and work the lift," he said to her, looking directly into her eyes. She didn't flinch. "Unless you are keen, I would be better first. For physical reasons. We don't know what the darkness will bring." Immediately he regretted his last comment, but too late.
"You think I'm afraid of the dark?”
"Certainly not. Just a bad choice of words. No rock falls, bodies. Let me."
She just put up her arms in resignation and went to the bucket release handle. When it was down level with the shaft head, he reached across and clambered in. It swung a little. As Tania released the clutch and he started to descend, he blew her a kiss then was below the rim before she could reply. 'Not a wise move' he thought. 'She could leave me dangling and I'd have to climb out.' Then the essence of what he thought hit him as he slowly
descended into the nether world. There was no ladder! He swung the torch down and could see the bottom coming up. There were holes in the shaft sides, possibly where a ladder was once. He didn't know a lot about opal mining but the few shafts he had seen seemed to include a ladder in his mind.
The air was cool down here compared to the top. Then a jolt as he reached the bottom. Some cable continued to come down before Tania realised there was no more weight and cut the drum rolling. Rory climbed out of the bucket and with the small torch, looked around the narrow shaft. Piles of dirt and some tools and a man's felt hat. Off to one side a small horizontal shaft, or adit, was started but it only went in about 3 metres. There was some nice colour. On the other side of the shaft, another adit. This was more promising, and went in for a little way, with a sharp bend, maybe 15 metres all up before abruptly ending at a face. Some picks and gin bars lay on the floor.
Rory had a good look but couldn't see anything that might suggest a reason for all the trouble. There was no colour of any substance that would warrant same. Some would delight the fossicker and probably end up in tourist shops, but not the stuff that Darius would invest in to make money.
He heard a shout and returned to the bottom of the shaft.
"You OK?" His voice seemed to be lost as he cupped his hands around the ears to catch the reply. There was none. A repeat yell produced the same. As he went to get into the bucket and pull on the line, a deafening noise echoed in the small space and sparks flew off the top of the bucket. Rory knew immediately what it was and instinctively dived for the nearest cover, one of the small adits. A second shot followed and he wished he hadn't left Tania alone on top. Then the sound of machinery and the bucket started rising. He went to jump out and grab it but another shot hit the ground. Whoever it was, had no clear sight of him in the dark but was still effective in keeping him away from the rising container. He made a last grab but it was too high now, and then it disappeared into the small circle of light above.
When the clanking stopped there was no other sound. He could yell but suddenly thought that would indicate he was still alive. What about Tania? Or was this an elaborate plan and she was masterminding it? He looked up at the shaft and it wasn't going to be easy to climb. The holes from the ladder were just obvious and he would need metal or timber to use as holds as long as they were not too far apart.
It was quiet for some time. Rory went and picked up some small pieces of timber and started placing them in the nearer recesses, trying to be quiet. Up above his head, maybe 5 metres, the shaft side had a circular patch about a metre in diameter, which was different in texture. Before he could scratch at it, the sound of a vehicle up top and something dropped into the top of the shaft. He jumped down and sheltered in one of the side entrances. The engine continued to run.
Then the ever so insidious first whiff of exhaust fumes. Rory had a momentary feel of shock as he instantly realised they were going to make sure he was dead by dropping a layer of carbon monoxide on him. There was no escape. The gas was heavier than air and it would only take a short time to fill the bottom of the shaft and the adits. He had to get out and fast. Grabbing some pieces of timber and stuffing them in his back pocket he started climbed slowly.
A piece came out and he slipped, grabbing the hole above, his body did a pendulum like movement and hit the side of the shaft wall. It collapsed. He had made contact at the spot where the circular mark was, and it was not wall. A cover made to look like clay, collapsed. Rory swung his legs over and in as his hand hold gave way, but there was sufficient length of his body inside to keep him there. There was also a breeze. He wriggled forward and turning around, started to crawl on his hands and knees. It was only about a metre high and reasonably level, but dark. Then his hands felt nothing, only emptiness. As his fingers scanned the opening, they hit a glass jar on the side which rattled. He felt matches when the lid was off and a couple of seconds later the blinding flash and the acrid smell of phosphorus as the match lit. It was only ten seconds of light, but enough to see the old kerosene lamp hanging on a ladder to the side. Then there was light.
A huge hole had been excavated, going down about seven metres or so. Taking the lamp he climbed down the ladder to the base. There was still the slight movement of cool air which was helping to keep the exhaust fumes at bay, at least for now. On the floor were various implements for digging and containers. A work shirt with a bullet hole and lots of dried blood on the sleeve. However all this paled into nothing when Rory held the lantern up at one of the walls. Just like Aladdin’s Cave, it sparkled in a 100 millimetre strip that extended the whole length of one side of the excavation. Here was opal that was worth a king's ransom. Even with his new and limited knowledge, Rory knew this was real colour. Some potch lay on the floor and on a piece of timber, three or four grubbed out pieces, as yet unwashed, but with a gleam protruding. He pocketed a couple.
Then the lamp started flickering. Whether it was low on kerosene or the fumes were starting to seep in, he didn't know, but this had only been a respite from an earlier fate, that was now creeping up on him. The air! There had to be some inlet, and he prayed it wasn't a small crack as he scanned his eyes in the uncertain and dim light conditions.
There it was. A small hole about 45 centimetres high behind a pile of mullock. A definite draft. He wriggled in and almost immediately it sloped upwards but kept the same size. Then feint blue haze as daylight started to filter down. He crawled as best he could then a vertical shaft with an eerie light coming down around some sort of covering. There was no ladder but the shaft was a small diameter and he was able to chimney up using his back and legs. The lamp was extinguished and left behind.
The covering was timber boards. He listened. His heart seemed to be so loud it would give him away. The faint sound of an engine but no voices or footsteps. He put slight pressure on the timber, but it didn't yield. Although difficult from his suspended position, he tried again with more force. There was the sound of something slowly sliding and then it lifted. Then a small crash as whatever it was' lost balance.
Rory heaved himself up. He wasn't going to wait for someone to investigate. It was the shed he had visited last time. A chair had toppled over where he had lifted the floor up. He quickly replaced the boards and the chair and darted for the window. No one about. Scooping up some dirt from a mullock box, he sprinkled it about where his hand prints showed. Then easing the back window open a little, climbed over the sill, and pulled the window closed as he dropped to the ground and then crawled behind some empty fuel drums. The engine stopped.
Silence for a few minutes. Someone came to the shed. Rory could hear the heavy footfalls, the door being opened and something dropped on the floor. Then the door slamming and walking back down the slope. He looked around the drum and caught sight of a man's back. Red shirt and blue jeans. Leather hat with a bird feather. One hand free the other with a .22 rifle. Then the sound of a vehicle starting up and moving, finally heading towards the track out. Rory ran to the corner of the shed. Lot's of dust but not enough to obscure a dark blue 4x4 utility truck. Too far to see who was inside or the plate but close enough to see two whip aerials bending back as it gathered speed and lost itself in the scrub and mounds. Then silence. Apart from birds and the drone of flies, nothing.
Rory cautiously made his way to the other shed but no one was around. What did surprise him was the vehicle he and Tania had came out in, was still sitting there. One thing he had learned in Indonesia was patience. The people had practiced it for centuries. Nothing was rushed. He sat out of sight of the vehicle and waited.
He waited half an hour but the only movement was that goanna who suddenly appeared from behind a tree and waddled across in front of him then towards the shaft. It sniffed around the shaft then continued on and disappeared. Time to bite the bullet. 'What a saying,' he thought.
He walked quickly towards the car, looking constantly from side to side for any movement. There was none. The car was empty but the keys were still in the ignition where he had left them. No sign of Tania. Rory quickly did a look around the shaft top, the mullock heaps and the sheds again, but he was alone. He got into the car, adjusted the seat and starting up, drove around in a circle hoping to see something, anything. Then he hit the brakes, killed the engine and jumped out. There was nothing to be seen. Rory hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. But he knew he had missed something. The seat. If the car wasn't moved why was the seat moved back? He looked under the dash but just the usual wires and bits and pieces. Nothing odd. We walked around the vehicle. There was a finger print in the dust just where you would release the bonnet safety catch.
Getting down on the ground he tried to look up but like all modern cars it was crammed full of mechanical items that left little empty space. Rory released the bonnet and taking a big breath slipped his fingers in and pushed the safety catch aside. With an upward push of his hand and at the same time throwing himself flat, the bonnet flew up and he got a mouth full of bull dust. Nothing happened.
Inside the engine compartment, nothing looked out of place. Rory looked for tell tale hand prints but saw none. He was getting paranoid and thought it time to head for the police. Shivers. How the hell was he going to tell old man Darius? Also why was the air conditioning unit and compressor clean?
There was lots of wiring in the engine, mostly in weather sheathing but not two black wires from the 'computer' box to the air conditioning. They were just looped around convenient holds. He carefully undid the four cover bolts and lifted it off. Just a small board with some silicon chips and resistors which wasn't factory fitted, laying in there attached to the black wires. The red wires went up the cold air delivery pipe to the dash. Only once in his life had Rory seen C4. That was in Darwin when the company he worked with for a short time did a job for the defence department in removing some old foundations. The army blokes made it easy and they made a loud bang. Nothing left.
There wasn't much, but then you didn't need much. He removed the leads and wrapped the explosive up in an old shirt and placed it on the vehicle floor. Another 15 minutes was spent looking in nooks and crannies but nothing else was found. He started up and headed for town. It would have been nice to go down the main shaft and, well, to have a look if anything or body was down there, but the monoxide would be around for a while. Rory guessed the booby trap was some computerised thing that would go off after the car had travelled some distance, far enough away from the diggings to maybe put the police off the track, and avoid another search of the shaft. But then why the bomb if they thought he was dead? Covering all contingencies and real bastards to boot. Innocent persons taking the vehicle back to town would have been murdered. Could all this killing justify the end?
Rory's mind was ticking over with all sorts of ideas and worries. In the end it all came back to money, lots of it. And to Darius. Maybe innocent considering his own daughter was now missing. Maybe not. Whether the police liked it or not, he was going to find her. And those responsible for her abduction would pay. The 'Ridge' came into sight. As he headed for the police station, he kept a lookout for the blue 4x4, but after seeing a few, decided to focus on the ordeal ahead.