___________________________________________________________________________________

BLACK OPAL

by

Jimmy Brook

"The fire of the earth that man so often dreams of

and schemes of, is often a fire that can burn
in a way not expected."

___________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER ONE

Rain was lashing down. In the gloom against the wooden veranda
post, a momentary glare showed the face of a man as he lit a
cigarette. Then it was gone, nothing left to betray his presence.
The noise on the galvanised roofing, was constant. A continual
drumming, with veils of water, falling straight down, all along
the front of the building. Guttering was not a priority in such
an outpost of humanity.

Not a light out there, only palm trees and exotic shrubbery close
by, quickly blending into a blackness. It was this man's turn,
tonight, to stand out here, and wait. As it was every night this
week. The moisture got into everything, even the cigarette he was
smoking. It spluttered, and died. He hurled it out into the
night.
3 AUDIOBOOK COLLECTIONS

6 BOOK COLLECTIONS
There was one consolation on these occasions. No mosquitoes. No
drone to distract your brain. Still that would come, when the
rain eased. And it would. Daylight would be a relief, but it
would also bring the heat. Sometimes one became wetter in the
humidity, than just standing in the falling cascade of water.

Suddenly he stiffened. It was definitely something. A fleeting

movement; felt it. Now nothing. He watched, but only saw vague
watery shapes of vegetation, through the rain. Visibility was
poor, only a few dozen metres at the best. Nothing.

He straightened up, and turned to walk the length of the

veranda. A ritual he employed to keep the damp out of his bones.
In that same instant, he saw it again. A tree moved. He moved his
body as close as he could to the post, in a slow movement. A full
minute passed. His eyes started to swim, as he stared into the
blackness.

Then it was real. A figure, crouching, moved from the blackness,

and crossed through two large rain puddles, leaving short lived
ripples. Tell tale signs, if one is there in that microsecond of
their existence, to observe such. He was. The figure climbed up
on a drum and heaved his lithe body out of sight, through the
opening at the side of the shed. In this tropical climate,
windows paid little part in a building, especially one that
housed a generator and fuel drums.

The observer, reached down and removed a .45 revolver, from a hip
holster. The cover was never buttoned down. Snakes were fast, and
you had to be just as fast. Pulling his wide brimmed hat down
hard, he quickly stepped off the boards into the mud and slosh,
that once was a path. The rain masked any noise he made, but
there would have been little. Years of living in extreme
conditions, and a need to survive, had taught him well.

He walked quickly to the side of the shed, and stood listening

against the wall. He knew he wouldn't hear much in the rain, but
a single word coming to his ears, was all that was needed, to
tell him that he had missed the other shadow. Silence.

The rain was easing. Every muscle of his was taunt, as he took
slow, deliberate steps towards the opening. He should have
crossed to the brick building to the right of the veranda, and
woken the others. But he didn't. By that time the intruder would
have vanished, to come again perhaps, and succeed in his purpose.

A scraping sound reached his ears, and the noise of a falling

object, maybe a spanner, hitting the floor. He froze mid step,
revolver aimed at the opening.
A small, quiet banging, muffled. He raised his head to the bottom
sill, and slid a hand up the side, feeling for the switch, he
knew was somewhere here. He couldn't find it. Moving to the side,
he cautiously stood up, and put his arm inside. The rain stopped,
and he cursed inwardly. He would lose the cover of noise. Some
frogs started up a rapid croaking.

His fingers slid over the industrial switch. With the revolver
pointed at the opening, and his heart pumping so loud, he felt it
must give him away, he started to pull down on the toggle.

Pain. A violent push on his shoulders, and he was forced on to

the window ledge, winding him. His finger, on the trigger, lost
control, and a loud explosion followed. The flash only added to
his spinning head. A cry from inside the darkness of the room, as
small sinewy hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him
backwards and into the mud. A light appeared, then others, off to his
right. Yelling. Next minute, the opening was framed by a black
shape, that crouched there, momentarily like an ape, framed for
an exhibition. Then a sound behind him, and he instinctively
rolled, as a heavy object hit the ground where he was only a
split second ago. Voices growing louder.

The shape jumped, stumbled, but quickly regained it's stance. One
arm was hanging down and the other, he couldn't see it in the
dark.

Then the sound of running feet, and he was left alone. Water
seeped into his clothes, and his ears, and his ribs ached. A
torch shone into his face, and he screwed up his eyes, against
the intrusion.

"You alright?" A gruff voice he couldn't place.

"Think so." Then a hand grabbing his, and pulling him upright.

"What happened? Saw the tail end of somebody disappearing into

the jungle."

The voice took on a familiar tone, and Rory Mason struggled to

his feet, one hand on his chest. The other should have held a
weapon, but didn't. Matt had a torch in one hand, and a machete‚
in the other.

Someone materialised from the bushes behind him. It was Spikey,

the other worker at the site. "Gone. Never catch him in this."
His cockney accent sounding out of place, in the surrounding
darkness, as it competed with a chorus of frogs and insects and
other indistinguishable sounds of the night.

Rory took the torch, and peered into the opening of the shed.
"One was in here," he yelled. "Bastard. Had a mate outside.
Didn't see him."

He found the switch, and pulled down on it. A feeble light, high
up in the gabled roof, pushed the darkness into the corners. A
lizard, scurried across the floor. "Christ." He withdrew his
body, and ran around to the door. The other two, followed.

The bolt was thrown back and he ran in, stopping at the
generator. It wasn't running, the diesel motor, silent on it's
concrete block. It never was run at night, to save fuel. The
batteries, a row of wet cells on the shelf at the side, satisfied
their requirements.

At the base of the generator, three sticks of dynamite were

lashed together and forced into one of the windings. There was a
long fuse, and on the floor, a cigarette lighter.

"Very crude, but effective." Matt's voice echoed in the metal

building. It's drawl betrayed the Australian's origin. "This
would have wrecked the geny, and without it, no dredging. What
happened?"

"Standing on the veranda, as usual. We thought we might have

problems, as you know, but you never think it would happen. Saw
someone head for the shed, out of the bush, and go in the
window." Rory was looking at the dynamite. He withdrew it from
the machinery, pulled out the fuse, then looked at Matt. "Smart.
Thought he was alone, and catch him. Had someone outside. He
pushed me against the frame, and then dragged me down into the
mud. Tried to mash me with something, but I rolled just in time."
His chest was aching, and he needed a cigarette. Probably not a
good combination, but what the hell.

"Heard the shot," said Spikey.

"My gun?" and Rory headed for the door. He was back in a minute,
holding a dripping weapon. "Lucky. Flew out of my hand when I
fell back. I think I could have winged one, the one inside."

Some blood was found on the sill, but even in daylight, it would
be unlikely to see any in the dripping foliage.

"Police were right, after all," said Matt, "didn't believe them
at first. Europeans aren't exactly welcome in this country. Well
not up in the highlands, anyway. Malaysians like them in the
cities, for business reasons. I suppose we're tolerated, 'cause
no local would waste his time pulling tin out of the river."

Rory laughed. "Still wouldn't surprise me if it was the police

behind it. Ahmed wasn't smiling the other week, when we picked up
the diesel, and drove straight past his truck. Nothing moves in
Asia unless it's greased.

"Tell that to the company." Matt spat on the floor, and walked
outside.

___________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER TWO

The following week went by without incident. Rory had driven down
to Pakanbaru, and reported the incident to the police station.
He stressed the attempted murder angle. Again the police captain
seemed indifferent. They worked a long way up in the mountains,
away from the coast, he said. It was one of the risks they should
be prepared for. Rory saw a doctor, who poked and prodded, and
said there was nothing broken.

They worked the dredge, together. It was long hours, and the
humidity was unbearable, even at that altitude. They kept a rifle
handy, but no trouble presented itself. Rory had decided, after
his contract expired, to go back to Sydney, and have a holiday.
He'd been up here for three years, moving around. It wasn't an
easy life. Hard work, and difficult locals. The labourers needed
constant supervision, and anything not tied down, walked. That's
why the current dredge on the Kampar River, only employed locals
when the tin was to be stacked and loaded on to the truck. The
actual dredging. could be handled by three people. The money was
good, but that was not why he was here.

Four years ago, whilst at Mt. Isa in far western Queensland, his wife,
was killed. He was devastated. She was driving down to nearby
Cloncurry to see her sister. The police said she hit a kangaroo and lost
control. She skidded into a tree and died instantly. Part of him also
died, that day. Rory finally decided, after two months, it was too
painful to stay.

He flew to Brisbane, and signed up with Oceanic Mining, to work

on river dredging in Borneo and Sumatra. The pay was good, and
the conditions were rugged. Fist fights, both on and off the job,
were common, as were the use of knives. He had had his nose
broken; his fingers broken, and was stabbed in the arm. But he
stayed on. The pain of going back, had not yet subsided.
The old Malay, who brought the vegetables and fruit, each week,
was a variation in their routine. He arrived, driving an old two
wheel cart, the ox pulling it, long passed it's used by date. It
saved buying in town, and it was fresh.

About ten days after the attempt on the generator, after they had
finished the day's work, the squeaking of wheels on the dirt
track, winding through the palms and lush foliage, was audible.
What was different this time, was the girl sitting up front.

There was no sign of the old man. She pulled up. Not so young,
thought Rory, as he could now see. More like 20 or so. The short
stature, often did that.

Matt, who spoke a reasonable Malay, asked where was the other
man, and relayed to Rory and Spikey, that he was sick. She was
his niece.

She unloaded the provisions, and Rory left her in the kitchen.
Matt did a cursory check that no weapons were in the baskets,
then retired to the brick quarters.

Rory was finishing the daily journal, at the small desk they had
in the equipment store. A bit of dust on the desk top, blew up,
and he turned around, to see her standing at the doorway, hands
together. He thought she had gone.

"What do you...," then stopped, as he realised she didn't speak

English. He searched his mind for some Malay words.

"You want?" she said, in a lilting but accented voice.

He just looked at her, not comprehending her question, at first.

Then in one graceful move, her arms went up, and with it the
sarong she wore, fell to the side. She had nothing else on. The
light from the other room, streamed through, highlighting her
young body.

He had stood up, and faced her, still not saying anything. He
felt himself being enchanted, with what he saw. An aching, so
long denied, since his wife had gone, was taking over his body. He
pulled his T-shirt over his head, as she walked towards him, hands
locked behind her, a delicate smile on the girl's lips.

As he reached out his hands to touch her body, she brought her
hands around to the front. He was mesmerised. The touch of her
left hand ecstatic. He saw her right hand, too late. A long thin
blade, streaked forward. He started to twist, but it had already
entered his stomach. Even before the pain had registered, he was
pushing her away in one big effort. A warm trickle on his belly,
and dizziness engulfing him, only accentuated the terrible sharp,
searing pain, below.

He had a vision of her, bringing her hand forward again, then a

loud explosion. The knife seemed to wilt, then she fell forward,
knocking him back. His last vision, was a figure at the door with
a gun, smoke curling up. Then he was on his back, the smell of
vanilla, strong to his nostrils, then blackness.

_________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER THREE

Rory woke up, and wished he hadn't. The nausea and pain in his
stomach, almost too much to bear. He was being thrown from side
to side, as the truck lurched at a very fast speed, along the
rutted road. Each roll, caused more pain. He dry retched. A
smelly towel, was wiped across his face.

He focused his eyes, as best he could, and saw, the smiling

countenance of Matt. Someone else was driving, but he couldn't
see. The pain in his belly was sharp, and when he coughed, he
felt like. He didn't know what he felt like.

"Easy there, fella," said Matt, "don't move none." He quickly

pinned Rory's shoulders, as a bump lifted him and everything else
in the truck, into a weightless position, then just as quick,
turned the gravity back on.

Rory felt the blood seeping through onto his trousers. He was
somewhat relieved that Matt was there. Matt was always turning up
when things got a little rough. His first week at the dredge
could have been his last. A bucket shackle came undone, just as
Rory was climbing out of it, after inspecting some timber caught
in the top. As he toppled out, he grabbed a line, more by
instinct, than planning. Then he felt himself being pulled
sideways, as the swinging bucket, pendulumed back. He would have
probably died from the collision, if he hadn't been moved. It was
Matt who had seen what was happening, and grabbed the line.

Then there was that time when Spikey stayed to mind the site, and
Matt and he went in to pick up some needed food and extra
reagents. Two muggers jumped him, as he went to get into the
truck, they had left in a side lane. Then Matt came around the
corner, and charged like a buffalo on heat. One of the
assailants, went down with Matt's first punch. The other fled.
Then the truck skidded to a halt. They had reached the river
crossing. Up to a year ago, there was a precarious one lane
wooden bridge, that just managed to support the truck, it's
groaning and creaking, giving everyone a worry. Then the monsoon
came, and the rain never stopped. The frail structure ended up
somewhere down the coast. A new one was being thought of, but in
the meantime, a small barge covered at the top, and just big
enough to take a vehicle, was used. A local ferryman manually
pulled the craft and any cargo, across, using a fixed rope.

Three months ago, the rope broke, and the truck plus Spikey and
five locals, ended up 200 metres down stream. It took 4 hours to
winch the vehicle up the bank and make it's way along to the
road.

"How is he?" It was Spikey.

"Still with us, but he's still bleeding. You go back. I'll get
one of the boys from the village to ride with him."

Matt pushed the mattress, which was covering a motor cycle,

around Rory.

"If you recon' you'll be OK." Spikey sounded unsure.

"Yep. Get back up there, before they try something. And take the
rifle." He pulled it out from the back, and Matt yanked the 125cc
Yamaha off the tray, down the plank Spikey had just laid. "Go."

Spikey roared away, back along the twisting dirt track, and was
lost to sight in the thick vegetation, and approaching twilight.
Matt took one look at the prone person, laying in the back, and
jumped in, revving the engine, and frightening some birds nearby.
He wasn't going anywhere, as the barge was still not across. But
it gave him confidence, that something was happening. It would be
a little while before he reached Pakanbaru, and he only hoped,
Rory would still be with him. One of the company rules, was that
no matter what, one person had to remain on site. Whether this
incident justified breaking the rule, Matt and Spikey weren't
sure.

As soon as the two planks were put into position, Matt had the
truck on them and on top. He was out and pulling on the rope,
much to the surprise of the old villager, the planks left
floating on the dark water. On the other side, he drove into the
village, and waving a small bank note in his hand, yelled in the
local language, for a volunteer. Most people melted away, but a
lanky teenager, took the money and jumped in the back. He sat
next to Rory, and Matt roared off. Tall people were unusual, so a
little European blood was obviously in the family. This also
helped in defying whatever local taboo had been put in place,
against the miners.

It was almost dark now, and Matt was thankful that the worst
section, was over. Still a country road, this stretch saw more
use. He only hoped some water buffalo wasn't standing on the
road. at this speed and in the dark, the truck wasn't going to
come off lightly, in a collision. Two or three times he skidded
on the loose gravel, and grazed a palm tree when he hit a water
crossing and the front wheels left the ground.

The forest closed around them, the shadows like long hands,
trying to grab the truck. Then a break, and the glint of
moonlight on water, as rice paddies, some terraced up the side of
hills, were passed. The shapes of houses, and a few lights, as
they passed kampongs. Then the rain started. Soon it was pelting
down, forcing Matt to slow. Already water was starting to cover
the road, covering holes and gutters. Matt cursed. In the back,
the boy was holding Rory, as best he could.

The tar started less than 3 kilometres from town, and was so full
of pot holes, Matt drove on the side verge. He had to slow down
in town. It had been market day, and despite the darkness, was
still thronged with people, cars, and bicycles. He dodged them
all except for a cart loaded with bamboo poles, and being pulled
by a not so quick Indonesian. It tipped, and there was much
yelling. There was no time to stop.

All local colour for a tourist, but not to the locals. Everyone
was there for a purpose. Matt's purpose was to get through the
throng and hope the doctor was at the medical centre.

Medical centre may have been an euphemism. A converted house,

with a dedicated Chinese doctor, and little else. The usual long
queue were sitting on the veranda, and inside, even at this
hour, but Matt ignored them and rushed straight into the surgery.
Kevin Lim looked up in surprise, as did his assisting nurse. They
were bandaging a young child's arm.

"I need a hand. Rory's outside, and he's bleeding everywhere."

The doctor, an ethnic Chinese aged about 30, said something to

the nurse, and then stood up and followed Matt outside. When he
saw the patient, he yelled to two teenagers, passing at that
moment, and the four of them, carried Rory inside, and onto a
table, in the back room.

"What happened?", but as he pulled away the crude bandages, the

young doctor knew the answer. He's seen many such injuries, since
his return to south east Asia, from medical school in Australia.
He could have had an appointment to the largest hospital in
Singapore, but instead, chose rural areas. The noble spirit of
helping the less privileged, still burned strong. Money had not
yet apparently swayed his ideals.

"A woman came onto the site," said Matt, "and before he realised
it, had knifed him. Would have finished him off, but I arrived
just in the nick of time."

"He needs surgery. Nothing major was cut, by the look of things,
but I doubt if I can stop the bleeding all together." The doctor
finished putting on some bandages, and peeled off his gloves.

"Where?"

"The nearest decent hospital is Singapore. Not long in a plane.

Your problem is finding a plane, and encouraging the pilot to fly
at night. Must be tonight." The Chinese had blood over his shirt
and trousers, but he seemed oblivious to it.

Matt looked bewildered. "Help me here, Doc. The company will pay,
but it takes time to get money and an aircraft."

The doctor looked outside at the waiting line, and shut the door.
"There's a Cessna on the strip now. He's flying out at daylight
with something or other down to Padang. You hear things in a town
this size. I'll try ringing him. Otherwise you need to get
something from Singapore. Not ideal for your friend here."

Matt sat down, and went to light a cigarette, but thought better
of it. Kevin Lim went outside. He was back inside three minutes.

"Got him. He was waiting on a call. Inconvenience to his charter,

tomorrow; against rules taking off at night, and leaving the
country without clearance. Bottom line is $2,000 American, cash
up front."

"Bloody hell. Where can I get that, this time of night?"

"Cheque book?" asked the doctor. Matt nodded.

"Give me a company cheque, now, for $2,500 US. I can get your
money in 15 minutes."

Matt didn't even query the amount. He had been in this part of
the world, too long, and realised everything had a price. His
friend and work mate weren't negotiable.
Whilst they were waiting, they carried Rory out to the truck, and
laid him in the back. The local boy from the river village, was
still around. Matt liked the doctor. Part of the fabric of this
town, he was still independent of it. From his visits to the
local watering holes, here in town, Matt knew that the young
doctor, had a thing going with one of the local Indonesian girls.

She started out as his domestic help, but soon after, just moved
in. Who could blame him. On his own. But it did have it's price.
The small local Chinese community were offended, that one of
theirs had taken up with an Indonesian. The fact that he was the
only doctor in town, helped to keep their disapproval at a low
level. The reverse also applied to the girl. Sometimes she was
ignored, sometimes spat at by older people in town. The younger
ones, however, didn't care.

Then an old woman arrived, carrying a shopping basket. When she

left, Kevin Lim came out and gave Matt a bag, with a bandage
sticking out the top.

"Some food and bandages. You'll need them for the patient." Then
in a lower voice, "expensive bandages, like everything else.
Drive south, to the rice co-op, then turn behind it. It links up
with the airstrip road, but should confuse prying eyes. My young
friend here," pointing to a teenage girl, who appeared on the
veranda, "will fly with your friend. I suggest you head back to
the mine. Your other friend probably could do with some company."

"Thanks. What about the police?", asked Matt.

"What about them? You won't get much support in that direction.
Probably be blamed for assault on a local. What happened to the
girl, by the way?"

"A .45 between the shoulder blades. No option, considering she

was about to have another go."

The doctor took a deep breath. "Well, my advice is, find a very
deep hole, or you may find yourself facing a firing squad. When
the Dutch left, so did European justice."

"As a local, why are you being, so un local?"

The young fellow put his hands in his belt loops. "The term local
may apply to the Malays and Islamic followers, but being Chinese
in Indonesia, is no picnic. Trust me on this."

Matt stuck out his hand, and they shook. Then he was in the
truck, with his passengers, and on their way.

The rain had stopped. Matt wondered about why all this trouble at
the site. Up to three months ago, it was fairly peaceful. Almost
idyllic, if you excluded the hard work and primitive conditions.
Then the stealing and small problems started. A local company had
tendered for the claim, but lost out. Still, that was two years
ago. However, an attempt on their lives, was serious business. He
thought it had to be political, but how far up the tree, did it
originate?

He reached the air strip, suddenly concerned that the rain may
make it too heavy, for the plane to use. It was too dark to see.
A light outside the shed, that served as an office, was on,
otherwise the few other buildings were in darkness. The plane was
not in sight. Matt's heart had a sinking feeling. He stopped
outside the office, and could see another light inside, then the
door opened. A man in open necked shirt and slacks, with a
cigarette dangling out the corner of his mouth, came out.

Matt shut off the engine and lights, and hopped out.

"You expecting me?", he asked. Then without waiting for a reply,

checked the back, to see how Rory was doing. He was awake.

Rory gave a weak smile.

"Hang in there, mate," said Matt. Then he turned to the pilot.

"Are you ready?"

"If you are from the doctor's place, and have the $3,000, I'm
ready."

Matt was taken back. "The deal is $2,000." Then he remembered the
bag, Kevin had given him. He grabbed it from the seat, and looked
under the bandages. There was a package. "Bloody hell", he said
aloud. Whatever was in the package, he didn't want to know. "Plus
merchandise."

The pilot coughed. "$2,000 plus merchandise will do. Let's go. If
any one turns up, we are history." Hidden behind the shed was a
small aircraft. He opened the door of the plane and, coming back to
Matt, said "need a hand?"

They stood Rory up, and walked him to the plane and helped get
him in and strapped up. The engine turned over, and came to life.

Matt stood back as the door shut and the plane moved forward, in
to the darkness. Then it roared away, and he heard it climb. An
amazing feat, without lights, he thought. He hoped it would
arrive just as safely, and in time.

When the only noise heard, was frogs, he walked back to the
truck. The boy from the village, was sitting behind the wheel,
but slid over. "Now, it's back home. And to see how Spikey was
getting on."

"You need a hand, mister? I can help out. Cook. Clean. Dig."

Matt got a surprise. This was the first time the lad had spoken.
He could use some help, at least until a replacement came. But
there was a risk. Could be plant by, whoever.

"Maybe. Have to check with my partner. What's your name?"

"Alfred."

Matt was taken back. "Where in God's name, did you get that
name?"

"Don't know. Probably the orphan's home in Jakarta. Always had

it. Government man wanted me to change it, but I didn't. Probably
why they sent me to Sumatra. My mother, that's the lady they gave
me to, lived in Padang, but we had to get out. Don't know why.
Some people were after her. She has some sort of uncle at
Ubangta."

"Ubangta?", said Matt, "where's that?"

"Where I live. You go through there all the time."

Matt never knew that the village had a name. Just a collection of
small houses and a rice storage shed. The government paid the
village council, a pittance, for pulling the punt across. To the
people, it wouldn't be a pittance, however. But they'd lose it,
if the bridge was rebuilt. He had a thought that without the
dredge, the use of the crossing would diminish. No, forget it.

"Thanks for helping. If we decide, we'll come down." They drove

back, skirting the town as best they could. Then back up river.
Time to talk to the young doctor, later. For now, Spikey was the
next concern.

At the crossing, at Ubangta, the village was in darkness. Alfred

came across, so he could return the punt. Matt drove off the
boat, and into the darkness of a forbidding forest.

About two kilometres before the site, the headlights picked up an

object lying on the track. Matt knew what it was, even before he
had stopped. It was the Yamaha. There was no sign of Spikey.

_______________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER FOUR

The rain poured down, and obscured the receding punt. Spikey had
stopped a hundred metres or so, up the track, and turned around
to have a quick look. It could just have easily been him in the
back of the truck. Or Matt. Who could resist such a moment. Then
he did a wheely and headed home.

His speed was slow. In a vehicle, it would be difficult enough.

On the bike, with the rain stinging his body, and limited road
vision, the trip was anything but pleasant. Whilst he may have
been small in stature, Spikey wasn't one to run from trouble.
Still he didn't exactly relish going back to the mining site, on
his own, nor staying there.

A large shape moved onto the road. Spikey skidded to a stop, and
doused his head lamp. He couldn't make out anything for a while.
Then the shape moved toward him. He stepped off the bike, letting
it fall in the mud, and brought the rifle round to his front.
Five metres from him, the tapir, grunted, when it felt the
presence of the man, and crashed off into the underbrush.

Spikey's heart started to come back to normal, and he lowered the

rifle. Despite the oppressive humidity, he knew his perspiration
was also due to his tenseness. He remembered the time, many years
back, when he worked on one of the North Sea off shore rigs. A
night not unlike this. It was raining hard, and the howling wind
made eyrie sounds amongst the rigging and superstructure of the
metal leviathan, straddling the angry sea. Workers may be paid
good money for their efforts, but it took it's toll. 12 hour
shifts over two or three weeks, sorted the capable from the not
so capable.

That night, one of the crew snapped. It occasionally happened.

Time away from loved ones. The lack of a familiar sanctuary, to
retreat into. It could have happened to him. Wendy just got tired
of waiting. The long shifts. Inverness in winter. She just told
him, and he knew he couldn't stop her. He would finish his
contract, and try again. If he could find her. He never did. She
went back to London. And he went far away.

That night. The fellow took off with a can of petrol, and yelling
and ranting, locked himself in the engineering shop. Matt was
given the job of getting him out. He crawled through a network of
air conditioning ducts, in darkness and freezing temperatures.

There was rubbish and there were rats. He made a quiet entry into
the shop, and silently tried to approach the fellow. Then there
was darkness, as the power went, and the man went quiet.
It was a cat and mouse operation. Once he had him sighted, but it
turned out to be a stripped down generator. A large tool cabinet,
moved, and faded away. Then the horrifying sound of liquid being
poured over machinery. He had that decision, to be made in
microseconds, should he head out, where ever that was, or stop
the inevitable flame from being lit. As it turned out, the
decision was made for him. An automatic timer light cut in, on a
work bench, giving just enough light to reflect off the can, and
the hand that held it. Spikey was a small guy, and he moved
quickly. Grabbing an object as he literally flew through the air,
he knocked the fellow backwards, before the chap realised what
was happening. A swing, and the sound of metal and bone
colliding. When it was all over, he needed almost a full bottle
of whisky to get it together. The other fellow, never knew what
hit him. A 2kg ball hammer was just as lethal as any other
weapon. The enquiry cleared him, in fact congratulated him. But
Spikey wasn't jubilant. It takes a long time to get over killing
someone, despite the circumstances. If ever.

The rain had stopped and the frogs and night insects were giving
forth their vocal appreciation. Another shape, but only trees. He
decided to walk the rest of the way. The bike would be noisy, and
there could just be someone waiting. The moon was out, but clouds
scudding across, gave alternate light and dark. He kept to the
side of the track, which would terminate at the dredge site. A
junction earlier gave access to a couple more forest villages,
and a timber logging camp. There was a silver mine beyond that,
but it had closed.

Finally, the trees thinned and the outline of the site buildings
appeared. He stood in the shadow of a large forest softwood, with
lots of creepers hanging off it, and waited. After fifteen
minutes, nothing appeared to move. He toyed with the idea of
waiting here until Matt returned, but that would be hours, and he
was wet through, and cold. Moving as quietly as he could, and
using whatever cover available, he made it to the back of a store
shed, used for spare dredge buckets and associated parts. Peering
around the side, the main office and the quarters seemed empty.

The clouds hurried by. A bat flew past the main veranda, and up
into the darkness. Spikey knew there were a few around. They came
out at night to feed on insects. The large durian fruit tree,
next to the generator shed, attracted insects that fed on the
fruit, and in turn the bats fed on them. He looked at the tree.

The dark shape at it's base, moved slightly, and for a second,
reflected some moonlight on something shiny. Spikey would not
have thought of the tree, otherwise. He kept very still. A brief
flood of moonlight, didn't reveal a person, but it did catch the
prang, the person was clutching. One swing of its razor sharp
blade, would do a lot of damage.

His heart was thumping so hard, he thought the native would hear
it. 'What to do?' he wondered. Then remembering the previous
week, there would be more than one. He looked hard at the other
buildings, but could not see any outline or movement. He wasn't
the best of shots, but he could try shooting the man. This might
flush out the other, or others, but he needed more provocation.
He also knew, they would not hesitate.

There are times in your life, when you know of some event, and
find it has happened at the same time as it entered your mind, or
you see it before it manifests itself. This was one of those
times for Spikey Templeton. As he stood there, at the side of the
store shed, he saw in his mind, a person in the act of about to
kill another. It was momentary. Without clarity. Three seconds
later, he just knew. He swung his body around, with the rifle
already horizontal, and the trigger being pulled. Not two metres
away, the man already had started to bring down his prang, in
that one and final death swing. The explosion was deafening in
the proximity to the metal shed. The recoil, moved Spikey
slightly to the side. A few centimetres, but enough to save his
life. The blade came quickly down, but not with a lot of force.
This was primarily due to the instruction from the brain to the
arm, not getting through. The bullet had taken a large part of
the attacker's head, with it.

As the man's body, still gripping the weapon, dropped at Spikey's

feet, it shook life back into the stunned miner. He turned, and
moved quickly to the front of the shed, his eyes locked on the
durian fruit tree. There was no sight of the other person, but, a
movement near the sleeping quarters, caught his eye. It was the
running figure of a man, heading for the surrounding bush. Spikey
got off two shots, but they were either too wide or not
effective. The man made the darkened vegetation, and disappeared.

No other movement was evident, but Spikey changed his position,

keeping to the dark, just in case. He waited about ten minutes,
then decided to make it to the office. He needed a change of
clothes and a stiff drink. His cautiousness was not needed. He
made it, and despite a search of the building, he felt he had won
this round. He sat on the outside veranda, in the dark. He hoped
the time would pass quickly, but knew it would be hours, before
Matt returned.

When Matt found the bike, lying in the mud, he thought the worst.
But he had no choice in deciding what to do. He had to drive to
the site, and see what waited for him. He brought out his
revolver, and laid it on the seat. It seemed to take ages to
reach the mine site, but it finally came, and he found the place
in darkness. Pulling up at the edge of the clearing, he sat
there, thinking the worst. First Rory, now Spikey. Then the
office lights came on, and the outline of a man with a rifle,
waving at him.

They took turns at keeping a lookout, and at first light, had a

good look around. Where Spikey had aimed his shots, there was
some blood, but the mud and thick vegetation, hid any trail. Back
at the machine shed, already the flies were gathering, and a
smell, like rotting fish, was developing. The humid conditions,
didn't encourage leaving something dead, for any length of time.
It was the body of a Malay, but he didn't look familiar. Not that
it would be easy. The face was a mess. The shirt and trousers
pretty standard. The girl was little different to her companion.
Only the red ants had found her, during the night, and she was
rapidly deteriorating. The office was starting to smell. They
loaded both bodies onto the truck, and drove back to the junction
of the track that led to the old silver mine.

In the long hours to daylight, they had talked a lot, and decided
the Chinese doctor, knew what was right. An old wire gate, barred
the access to the mine entrance. The place was already overgrown
with foliage, and had the look of a forgotten city, that had been
buried in the jungle for a thousand years. Even the monkeys were
there. They broke the rusty lock, and opened the gate. Leaving
the truck, the two men dragged a large calico bag, behind them,
and made their way to the adit entrance. Removing as little
foliage as they could, and disturbing a particularly unfriendly
snake, they went as far inside as possible, managing to get
around rubble and small cave ins, until water made it impossible.
Pushing the bag as best they could, until it was nearly
submerged, they then left, covering the intrusion as best
possible. There was little conversation, from the time they left
the tin mine, until now. The sweat was pouring from both men,
even thought it was still early. They returned to the front gate.
"This is giving me the jitters," said Matt. "I feel as though a
thousand eyes are looking at us."

"Not the only one. Some things need to be done." The thought of
those pangas, slashing down, seemed to justify it all.
In the back of the vehicle were two more lengths of canvas, each
rolled around something. It was the bodies. Getting each on to a
shoulder, the men walked back through the littered site, keeping
out of the mud, where possible, and finally entering the forest.
It was hard work, and the sweat poured off in little rivulets,
from their faces. Their clothes were soaked, but this was usual
for their working day. Climbing over logs and depressions, many
hidden by the lush green tropical vegetation, was difficult. The
bodies had to be put down, through sheer exhaustion, on more than
one occasion. Insects bit them, and the threat of snake bite was
at the back of their minds. After about 400 metres, they had had
enough. A gully blocked their path, and the effort in crossing
it, too much.

"Here will do." Spikey just nodded, to Matt's statement.

They scooped a shallow depression in the rotting vegetation, and

placing the canvas and the contents at the bottom, covered them
and returned to the vehicle. Matt had bought a flask of coffee,
and they quickly had a gulp, then drove back, wanting to be away
from this place. It seemed like some fiction story, but it was
happening. And they had hidden bodies they had killed. This
wasn't Australia or Europe. It was a remote place, where survival
had many facets.

The first sack, full of rocks, was Matt's idea. If someone came
looking, and thought of the silver mine, there would be a feint
trail, if they looked hard enough, and it would lead underground.
Looking elsewhere may be overlooked. That was the theory.

________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER FIVE

"Never saw that ox and cart, this morning," Spikey said, as they
approached the dredge site.

"Went out of my bloody mind. It and the other fellow, could be a

problem. We'll check around here and...." Matt didn't finish, for
the sight of a bicycle leaning against the office wall, was
unnerving. "We have company."

Spikey nodded his head, and took the safety off the revolver.
Then a youth appeared from the other side, and stood there,
watching them approach.

It was Matt who recognised him. "That's thingo, um, Alfred. Told
him we'd let him know if we wanted a hand. Watch it."

They stopped, and got out. Matt walked over, but Spikey stayed
with the truck, casting an eye around.

"What can we do for you, Alfred. We'd let you know if we needed a
hand." Matt noticed a squashed cigarette stub, nearby. "you
didn't come all the way up here, just for a smoke."

The lad instinctively looked at the spot, then at Matt. "Came up

to tell you there's a stranger in our village. He came before
daylight, so I heard. He's in the back of the rice store."

"What's that got to do with us?", asked Matt, looking around.

The boy shuffled self consciously on his feet. "Thought it might

have something to do with the attack on your friend, yesterday.
He has a bullet wound."

Matt's mind was thinking. He unlocked the door, and went in. The
youth followed. "It was a girl that did it, so our mate says. She
got away in the dark. Don't know about a bloke, but thanks. Sit
down." Walking to the door, he signalled Spikey, and waited at
the end of the veranda.

A few words brought Spikey up to date. "Problem is," said Matt in

a low voice, "do we go down and front this guy?"

The decision made, they offered Alfred a lift back. "This person
might know about the girl," Matt said, looking at the young
fellow. The boy didn't reply or didn't understand. "She came in
an ox cart. Haven't seen one on your way up?"

"Ah, yes, mister. Belongs Tungto, in our village. Recognise the

cart. He brings vegetables to you, but haven't seen him, oh two
days. Girl must have taken it."

"Like I said, she came in a cart with stuff. She got away." Matt
honked at a large rodent, which disappeared into the forest
verge. They reached the river, and decided to leave the truck,
and cross without it.

"Here," said Matt and offered him the rest of his cigarettes.
"Don't smoke them all at once." The boy smiled, and put them out
of sight. "Suggest you keep out of sight, until we come back."
The youth, slid off the seat, and into the bush.

Matt pulled the punt over, and the two men went back with it.
They walked straight to the rice store, Spikey carrying the rifle
over his shoulder. The normally inhabited village, was quiet,
people having hid themselves in their houses. Matt kicked the
door open. The room was empty. Some blood soaked bandages and an
empty bottle of beer, lay on the floor.

"Either heard us, and shot through, or is waiting somewhere. Not

a devout Moslem," as he kicked the bottle across the floor. They
went to the headman's hut, and found him standing outside.

"He gone. One hour. To Padang."

"And his wound?" asked Matt.

"Some blood, but not bad. Bullet went straight through flesh. You
shoot him?", the old man asked.

"No. Some one broke into the mine. Thought he might be here. If
he or any one else comes back, let us know. There's some money in
it." The old man beamed, and nodded.

They walked back to the river. "Let's hope, never. We'll report
it tomorrow," said Matt.

"Should be interesting," replied Spikey, "that bastard of a

police chief, won't believe a word."

"Why should he? It's all garbage. He knows it, but can do little
about it. Have to ring Johnston, when we get to town. Oceanic is
going to have fits. Old man Darius probably doesn't know his
empire has a tin mine in Sumatra. Should get our story pat for
the law."

__________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER SIX

Rory Mason opened his eyes. The room was white and clean and
smelled of, something or other. Then he realised he was in a
hospital. His stomach ached but he felt better. The flight was
pretty vague. He remembered being helped on to a little plane,
and a bumpy flight, but than blacked out. A vague recollection of
a vehicle and people yelling and arguing, then nothing.

The door to his room opened, and a small, very pretty Chinese
girl, in a white starched uniform, was standing by his side. She
took his hand, and looked at her watch, strapped to her blouse.
'This is nice', he thought.

"Your with us again, Mr. Mason. On the mend."

"Think so. Nasty accident."

"Knives are dangerous," she said, then smiled. "Pulse seems

normal. You'll survive. Policeman outside for you, and a Mr.
Johnstone is flying over from KL. He apparently guaranteed your
expenses, otherwise you'd have got a sticking plaster, and shown
the door."

"Oh," he replied, "you seem to know all about me."

"Your wallet, Mr. Mason. The passport, I believe is outside. Shall

I send it in?" That twinkle in her eye. It captivated him.

She left before he could reply, and a few seconds later, the door
opened, and in came a middle aged Chinese. He was wearing a
uniform. "Mr. Mason? Mr. Rory Mason? "

Rory nodded.

"Inspector Chu. If it wasn't for your injury, you'd probably be

in custody. Illegal entry. However us Singaporeans are
compassionate people, Mr. Mason. I also spoke to your supervisor.
He has convinced me, your arrival out at the other end of our
island, near Woodlands, was not for any clandestine reason. Your
pilot took off before we got there. However, if it's who I think
it is, next time he drops in, we'll chat."

He dropped the passport onto the bedside table.

"You want to know what happened? I was attacked." Rory felt a

little relieved.

The inspector put up his hand. "Not my concern. No doubt the

Indonesian police will have an interest. My advice is to have a
holiday. The climate in Sumatra is not good at the moment,
especially for you, I feel."

"Thanks. We work a tin mine concession. Young woman sneaked onto

the site and attacked me. Got me before I knew what was
happening."

"And the woman?"

"Like you said, it's not really your concern." He paused. "I
didn't mean to be blunt. As I went down with blood everywhere, I
remember a shot, that's all. There was a bumpy trip and I can
recall the plane, and that's about it."

"Interesting. You have a 3 day visa. No doubt you will be wary of

young women. Especially those with a knife. Well business
concluded. I hope not to see you again. Goodbye, Mr. Mason." He
gave a slight nod of his head, and left.

Rory's wound was covered by a large plaster, so he couldn't see

the area. The nurse came in, surprising him. "Checking to see if we
cut it off. Doctor tells me it was so small, he had trouble finding
it." She laughed, and Rory blushed.

"Thanks a lot," he replied.

"I didn't think you'd take it to heart. Anything you need?"

"A chance to prove the doctor was wrong." He thought all patients
were allowed to take liberties. The bed and their condition,
protected them somehow.

She didn't blink an eye. "Mr. Mason. The good inspector has just
warned you about young women. And I could carry a knife. Purely
for medicinal purposes."

He was feeling the tin mine was not his cuppa. "I have three
days. We could, that is, you could show me around. Dinner. The
least I could do to repay your kindness."

She went to the door. "Not hospital policy to fraternise with the
patients." She shut the door behind her, but immediately opened
it, and stuck her head back in. "Tomorrow you won't be a patient.
Katts in Orchard Road at 5pm," then was gone.

Next morning, he was given a phone message from Matt, who had
rung from Pakanbaru. It was brief, but indicated everything was
well at the mine, and they hoped the same with him. Rory was
relieved. It meant that what ever had to be done, was. Still he
would like to hear the details, but that was something not for a
telephone line. Nothing was private in this part of the world.

At lunch time, a doctor came in, and looked under the plaster. It
was red, but really not so large a gash. "Lucky man, sir. Avoid
a lot of body movement for a week or two. Walking is OK. You can
go anytime this afternoon. Just sign out at the front desk. Shirt
and slacks should be provided in your locker here. The ones we
removed were too bloody to keep. Any questions?"

"No. Thanks for fixing me up. You sound as if you do a lot of

these."

"We have our share. Did a year in South Africa at Baragwarath and
another in a Hong Kong trauma unit. So I can tell you all about
knife wounds. It does put a coating on you. Underneath, my
emotions are like yours. I bleed and I cry. Take care." He left.

Rice for lunch, wasn't so appealing, as it still hurt to eat, so

he settled for some chicken soup. During this, Trevor Johnstone
arrived. Trevor was the Oceanic man in this part of the world. He
operated out of the KL office in Malaysia, and Rory hadn't seen
him since he came over and started at the tin dredge. Still he
wasn't an ivory tower person. He knew about mining and a host of
other things, necessary to survive in Asia. He knew the right
people to see and how to keep all the wheels running. Rumour had
it, he liked his whisky and his women. And he had started on the
ground floor, driving dump trucks, drilling and so on. He got
things working. That was why he was in the job.

He shook hands. "They tell me you'll live. They also tell me it's
costing Oceanic a fortune to stay here. And now you're going to
tell me what the bloody hell happened."

Rory told him, pulling no punches.

"Lucky. Matt Forbes got through to me just before I left. Told me

as best he could, that the mining problem had been cleaned up, in
fact a couple of problems. I can only guess your woman was not
alone. Will be there myself in 2 or 3 days, after I get a replacement
for you. Rang Mr. Darius, in Sydney. Wants you back there."

Rory raised his eyebrows. "I made a mess of things, I guess."

"Rubbish," said Johnstone, "things happen. You're a good worker,

from the reports, and from my gut feeling. You can't go back for
a while, not that you would want to. Indonesian police are sure
to be looking for you. Until I talk to Forbes, don't know what
the score is."

Rory was getting a numb bum. He swung out, and stood up. "The
Singapore police gave me 3 days to leave."

"Yes. Spoke to some one yesterday. It was an arrangement agreed

upon. Get yourself a flight booked, and here's a hotel, you can
stay at. Give Darius a call when you get back."

"All I can say is thanks." Rory didn't know what else to say.

They shook on it, and Johnstone was gone. Rory got dressed, and
went downstairs to the front desk. He signed out, and stepped
into the humidity. He had forgotten what it was like. There were
no shortage of taxis. He was glad. It had air conditioning. The
hotel was only 3 or 4 kilometres away, along Geylong Road,
moderate, a little pretentious, but clean looking. As he stepped
inside the door, the heavens opened, and sheets of rain fell to
wash away the morning residue of living. A sort of barrier
between one time period and another. The huge deep drains, coped
with the downpour. He wondered if he was deep enough to cope with
his life's downpours.

He showered, then found a travel agent in Victoria Street, and

wasted nearly half an hour before they confirmed a ticket the day
after tomorrow, to Sydney. It wasn't Qantas but he didn't care.
As he stood looking in a shop window, he felt his attire would
need improving, if he was to meet the nurse. Getting directions
for a department store, he picked a silk shirt and reasonable
slacks, and just had sufficient time to change at the store then
head for the rendezvous.

She wasn't there, so he ordered a Tiger beer, and began to

seriously consider, if she would turn up. After all, he wouldn't
be the first person to try and pick up a nurse whilst a patient.
As he downed the last drop, she was there. He didn't immediately
recognise her, for she looked so different out of whites.

A subtle pants suit in just the right colour, and a pair of silver
ear pendants, were catching other eyes as well as his.

"Hello. I was hoping you wouldn't stand me up," then cursed

himself, for using such a degrading introduction. "Sorry, I
didn't mean that. Still a bit under the weather from the wound."

If she took offence, she didn't show it. Her smile seemed to
disarm him. "Why would I? It's not every day one gets to meet a
nice Australian, especially if he's also good looking."

Rory blushed. "I'm not exactly Rudolph Valentino."

"I don’t want you to be," she replied.

He laughed, and she joined in. Her eyes and facial outline had
captivated him. "Drink?" She nodded.

They talked, and he warmed to her company. When he mentally

started to compare her to his wife, he closed his mind, and just
concentrated on the time and person at hand. That chapter was now
gone. Not forgotten, but it was time to move on. Nancy suggested
an early dinner, as she had a morning shift tomorrow, and led him
to a very homely and small restaurant, a few blocks away. They
walked, savouring the sights and sounds of a city, moving from a
work mode to a relax mode. It was a pulsating city, and Rory took
it all in. After so long in the bush in Sumatra, any place was a
change. Not that he didn't appreciate the outdoors, and the
quietness. He preferred it, but just now, he craved some people
around him. On the Outer Roads, hundreds of lights twinkled, as
boats and ships of all sizes, bobbed up and down. Singapore was
still the crossroads of Asia. Well one of them. The expectancy
was a Chinese establishment, but he was quite pleasantly
surprised, when it turned out to be Portuguese cuisine.

She ordered for him, but he chose the wine. A Mateus Rose‚ seemed
appropriate. Not only did it come from the right place, it was one
his wife liked.

"Is there a partner? Someone?" she asked, during the main dish of
grilled lamb. "Of course if I'm prying, please forgive. I can
talk on the technical aspects of nursing, or patient ratios, if
you prefer."

He placed his hands on her arm. "There's nothing I need to hide.

I'd like to talk about you and me. I'm sure we can give work a miss."
He resumed eating. The wine was chilled just to the right
temperature, and was doing it's thing. "My wife was killed some
time back. Car accident. No kids, and no current commitments.
Been sort of burying myself in the jungle. And you?"

She daintily wiped her mouth. "I'm dedicated to my profession.

But my family comes first."

"You have a family?" he asked.

She smiled. "You misunderstand. Like many Asian cultures, we are

very family orientated. The time for a husband will come when the
family tells me."

"I thought a woman like yourself would choose...." He was feeling

this could be sticky ground, and so early in a relationship,
might be best avoided. That's if there was ever going to be a
relationship. He was on a plane in two days!

She foresaw his mind. "I am a person of my own destiny, Mr. Rory
Mason. I also have to weigh this with other factors."

The subject switched to his various jobs, and to the

mystification at why someone would want to kill him. She
responded openly about herself, in a like fashion, and then
announced that they should go.

They walked down via a waterway, and along Beach Road. The lights
of tonkangs, boats and the quay side, reflected in the water like
an overactive computer screen.
When he took her hand, she did not resist. Any thoughts of taking
the night to higher aspirations, however, were dashed when she
stopped at a taxi rank, and turning to him, said that the meal
and his company had been delightful, but it must end here. There
was an early start tomorrow.

Rory felt let down, then knew that was egotism. It had been a
pleasant evening, and a memory to be savoured. Still all may not
be lost. "I have tomorrow. Perhaps you could have an hour or two
after work. Show me some of the treasures of your city. Another
bottle of Mateus."

"How do I say no?"

"You don't." His heart was starting to race.

“Say two o'clock, same place."

He was still holding her hand. When he leaned forward, he kissed

her lightly on the cheek.

"Thanks for the evening, Mr. Rory Mason." Then she glided into
one of the taxis, parked with their door opened, and was gone. He
stood a while. 'Beats a gas lamp and whisky' he thought.

Next day he could hardly wait until two. He sauntered along

various streets and ate in a large serve yourself. A bit of
shopping, and selecting a small, but he hoped, appreciated gift
for Nancy, and one for someone he hoped to catch up with in
Sydney. He could have emptied his wallet at the various stalls
along Koek Road, but decided he didn't really need anything.

The beer was quenching, and like yesterday, she was there as he
finished it.

"My wardrobe is a little limited," he embarrassingly said, but she

just smiled and said "Never judge a book by it's cover."

'Now that's an answer that has promise' he thought. "Where to?"

"Culture, Mr. Rory Mason. I hope there's no holes in those socks."

They caught a taxi, and headed to Upper Serangoon Road in the

north of the city, stopping outside a large building, very ornate
and painted in red and black. There were some tourist buses and a
smell he was used to. Incense.

The inside of the temple was dark, but noisy. She showed him
various items, and he even took a fortune cookie. When she
offered to translate the kanji, he pocketed it, and said it
related to a woman and was personal. She didn't say any more, but
was obviously trying to decide if he could read it. Rory actually
didn't have a clue. It was a game, but it lent a measure of his
being a little in charge, on a day in which she would be pulling
the strings.

From there, she took him across the island to Jurong Bird Park,
then back into the city as darkness descended. They wandered
around, hand in hand. The street market in Change Alley offered
all sorts of foods to tempt the pallet, but she steered him
clear. At Clifford Pier, she turned into a small eatery,
definitely not on the tourist list. It was mostly locals, many in
working gear, and the food, predominantly fish, was delicious.
The local wine was rough, but the evening was too short to spoil.
He gave her the gift he had bought earlier in the day, a small
silver brooch in the shape of a bird. She appeared surprised, and
leaned forward and kissed him, on the lips.

Then it was time to go. At Robinson Road, she stopped at a taxi

rank, and put her hand on his shoulders. "I've enjoyed being with
you, Mr. Rory Mason. Time to say goodbye."

"Surely not so early. A drink or could I accompany you home?" He

was a little disappointed.

"I know you would like to not end our day, but some things are
better that way. As much as I would want to have you at my side,
when I wake in the morning, it is not possible."

He went to protest, but she placed a finger on his lips. He took

her, and kissed. She responded, then pulled away and walked to a
waiting taxi. He didn't stop her. She popped her head out the
window, as the driver went to move out. "I know the doctor was
wrong. Take care." Then she was gone.

He walked all the way home. It was his release.

Next morning, he had a little time before the flight, so he

headed for Orchard Road to have a drink at the Raffles. Everyone
who comes to Singapore, wants to have a drink there. He was a
little disappointed. The old place of Sir Stamford Raffle's time
had been upgraded. Some older parts still remained, and he had to
jostle for a seat with loads of tourists, even at this early
hour.

Three hours later he was winging his way south, across Indonesia,
towards a very wide brown land.
________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER SEVEN

Rory didn't have to see the head of Oceanic until the next day,
so he decided to pick up some clothes and spend the rest of the
day relaxing. He had taken a motel at a seaside suburb called Bronte
for three days. Helen, his late wife and he, had spent a wonderful
week there.

That afternoon he rang Darin Shelby, one of his long time mates,
and best man at his wedding. He got an enthusiastic welcome and a
non negotiable invitation to dinner. Rory asked whether Emily,
Darin's wife, needed to be consulted, but in Darin's usual way,
said it was no problem. Besides, Em would cancel anything,
almost, to have him around.

It was for her, that he had bought that small gift from
Singapore. She was so effervescent he sometimes thought she would
separate into a thousand pieces and float away, all in different
directions. Never sitting still, more concerned about her guest's
welfare than her own enjoyment. Shelby and he had even vied for
her attention, once, but along came Helen. Darin and Emily
married about six months after Rory did, and now had two girls.
They had a town house in nearby Randwick not far from the
fashionable Peters Corner and it's cosmopolitan shops.

Rory caught a taxi to Grace Bros. department store in bustling Bondi

Junction and picked up a suit and sports shirt. "And will sir be
charging these?" was the comment as they were placed in the red and
white bag. Rory couldn't resist. "Yes. I'll plug them straight into the
mains. Should make the shirt glow brighter." Neither broke into a
smile, but Rory cracked up when he was out of sight. "Can just
see him serving in Pakanbaru. Would last an hour." A passing
woman looked at him. He gave her a grin, then thought he better
watch himself.

At seven, he knocked on the front door of the Shelby's. The elder

of the girls opened it, with dad standing behind her.

"Uncle Ror," and gave him a hug. Then Darin was grabbing his hand
and giving him a hug.

"You old pirate. About time you came out of the jungle and put
our minds at rest. You look well." Then another little face
appeared between his legs. Rory bent down and pulled her cheeks.
"Hello little one. Wendy's got a new dress." The kid wriggled
out of sight.

"Come in. Emily is somewhere in the kitchen, or the bathroom or

wherever. Dying to meet you."

They moved inside and sat down. The lounge looked new. Suddenly a
squeal, and Emily sort of waltzed in dropping an apron and
grabbing him with both arms in one movement. Then there was that
kiss, just a tat long for Rory's comfort, on the lips.

They parted and looked at each other. "Marvellous. Tarzan is

getting younger, I swear. No Jane? How silly of me. Your in the
bush, only....young nubile native girls."

"Whoo," cut in Rory, "slow down, and yes to all of it."

Emily cocked an eye at him. "So where is she? Not out in our palm
tree, I hope?"

"Em, behave, and let Rory relax. Right girls, to your room. Say
goodnight to Uncle Rory." The girls gave everyone a hug, and
followed mum down the hall. Darin placed a stubbie in Rory's
hand. "Talk to us over dinner. Em wants to hear everything. As
far as the Shelby's go, life is good. Area manager."

"Good for you," said Rory. "New lounge looks good."

"Always a risk with young kids, but it's only money."

Emily appeared and said dinner was ready. They ate and talked and
finished two bottles of red. Rory outlined his life since leaving
Australia, or as best he could. Emily was continually
interrupting him, asking a host of questions. All accompanied
with suitable arm actions. It did go a little quiet when he
related about the knifing and subsequent events.

Emily's face showed alarm. "You poor unlucky person," and turned
away. Rory knew she was upset, and told her not to worry. He had
survived.

"But you could have died."

"It was all fate," he replied, "would never have met Nancy."

"Bloody painful way to pick up a bird." Even Darin was concerned.

"Shot dead. People play rough up there. This is not a put on, is
it?"

Rory pulled up his shirt, and lifted the plaster aside. Emily
gasped. "That's horrible. It's not very big, is it?"

Darin coughed. "The wound, I hope, is what your referring to."

"Darin, do you mind? Anyway I would never comment on size to a

man."

Rory was feeling embarrassed. "When you two have finished

talking about my body, coffee would be fine."

Whilst Emily was preparing the beverages, Darrin asked about the
future.

"Don't know," replied Rory. "Why the top man wants to see me, is
a mystery. I'll ring you tomorrow. Could be a dressing down, but
seems unlikely."

"May be the expense of fixing you up, the plane and all,"
suggested Emily.

"No. Peanuts for Oceanic. Would claim it on tax. What would

Shakespeare say?"

"Up yours." The men looked at Emily. "Henry the 9th, Act 3," she
concluded.

As they said goodbye, Darin said "Well we know what you want for
your birthday, out on Christmas Island. Just joking. Wouldn't
wish any one there. Call us."

She gave him a farewell kiss, and made him promise to come back
before being shipped out to where ever it might be. A long
farewell kiss. 'Must be the wine,' the thought passing through
his mind. He left.

__________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER EIGHT

The head office for Oceanic Mining was on one of the upper levels
of a high rise business tower in Miller Street, North Sydney, to
the north of the city. It commanded good views of the harbour,
and would not be cheap.

Rory sat himself down in a very soft recliner, which he thought

might prove difficult to remove himself from, and alternately
watched the young receptionist do what she did, and the view of
the harbour, through the big tinted window. He speculated on what
he had done, would warrant a call by the top brass.

"You can go in, Mr. Mason." The words broke his train of thought.

He smiled at the girl, and wondered why that front line position,
always seemed to be filled by that type of person. Young, well
built, and short dresses. Whether she could type, was unknown,
as the machine remain covered. He followed her to a large wooden
door, with big brass handles. She opened it and stood in the
doorway to let him past, a point not unnoticed by him as he
squeezed by with a cheesy grin. Ahead was an enormous desk, and
an equally enormous man sitting behind it. He did not rise. Cheap
prints adorned the walls and a drink cabinet and lounge were at
the back. A visitors chair sat before the desk. Rory remained
standing.

"Sit. You'll have my neck giving me heaps, if I have to keep

looking up. Name's Darius. Montgomery Darius. You call me
Mr. Darius unless you're in the family or in my golf club, neither
of which applies or appears ever possible."

"I'm Rory Mason."

"Know who you are, or you wouldn't be here."

Rory then had made his first observation. That Darius was setting
the ground rules, as to who was boss. He hadn't uttered any words
like 'you're fired', so he was still on the payroll, perhaps!

Darius put down the folder he was reading, and looked at Rory
without saying anything, for a few seconds. "Might do," he
muttered to himself. Then he lit up a cigar. Rory smoked a
little, a bad habit he acquired after his wife's passing. He
actually felt nauseous with cigar smoke, but thought this was not
a time to voice his opinion. He decided to test the waters.

"Is this about the incident at the Kampar River dredge? There is
a...."

Darius interrupted him. "Smoke if you want. Like to savour

those first few seconds of a Cuban, without distractions."

Rory decided to pass.

"Knife injury. How is it?"

'Concession. He cares about my well being', thought Rory.

"Tender, but on the mend. Caught unawares."
"Cost a fortune to sort out. Ought to charge you, but you got
friends."

Rory just shrugged his shoulders. So much for employer support.

"Is there a point to me being here?' He was starting to get
impatient. If it was the chop, why the interview?

"Just sit and listen. I may appear a callous bastard, and that's
because I am. One has to be to run this show, and not go down the
gurgler. But I do care about the people who work for me, whoever.
Getting sliced up is not a work hazard I wish on anyone. We could
compare scars some day."

"I understand," said Rory.

"Good. Like someone who has respect but is their own person.
Johnston said I could rely on you, and he's probably right. You
obviously didn't come between him and his women, or you'd be
still decaying in the jungle. Drink?"

Rory nodded, and Darius got up and poured two scotches.

'No blends here, real malt,' thought Rory.

"OK. You tell me what happened. No fancy side steps."

Rory took a deep sip, and told it as it happened. He even

mentioned about the nurse he had shared his company with.

Darius listened without interrupting. "I have no problem with

your story or your actions. What you don't know is the second
act. Much more gory than act one."

Rory raised his eyebrows.

Darius recounted what he had got from Matt and Spikey's report to
Trevor Johnston.

Rory was astounded and slowly held up his glass.

"I don't usually in the day, but do you mind. This is a bit of a
shock."

"Help yourself."

The whisky was beginning to take effect on Rory. "And now?"

"Straight to the point. No beating around the bush, eh? Good.

What do you know about opals?"
This was a spinning ball he didn't expect. "Pretty. Some women go
crazy over them and some don't. The best ones are found in about
three places in Australia. Otherwise zero."

"Fair enough. Your education is about to begin. Oceanic has

interests in two opal mines, you might say the boutique end of
our operations. Not big a operation but gives us profile and a
little diversity." He lit another cigar.

"About 2 months back, things started to go astray. Output dropped.

Opals started disappearing, and returns nose dived. I was overseas
on extended business, so it's getting belated attention."

"What's your manager, or managers, say?"

Darius looked over his horn rims, at Rory, but didn't answer
straight away. He wasn't used to being interrupted, but
overlooked it. "Adrian Bedford runs both mines, splitting his
time. There's a couple of staff at each, locals. We talked 2 or 3
times on the phone. Said he was following it up. A week ago he
rang to say he had some leads and would fax me details. That's
when I decided someone should check it out. Then your business at
the dredge came up, so I waited. No fax has arrived, and he's not
answering his phone. We had the local authorities pay a visit to
his place, and both digs. Hasn't been seen for days. And one of
the sites is deserted."

As there was a respectful pause, Rory spoke.

"You want me to go pay a visit, and find out what's happened?"

"Just because I kept you on the payroll, doesn't give you any say
where you go or what you think you'll do." His voice wasn't
raised, but it was matter of fact, and firm. Rory bit his tongue.
"I want you to assist one of our people. They call the shots and
make the decisions, and you do what you're told. Nothing more.
Any questions?"

"Where are the mines?"

"Lightning Ridge, up north. I consider it the best area in

Australia for quality opal. Black Opal." He punched a button on
his desk. "Gloria, where is that offspring of mine?"

"Practically there, Mr. Darius," came the reply.

Rory inwardly sighed. Wet nursing the boss's son wasn't something
that appealed to him. Probably an arrogant know it all, and he'd
end up having to baby sit him and solve the problem.

He didn't have time for any further speculation. The person who
came through the door, caught him off guard. He wasn't expecting
a woman. When she spoke, he knew this woman could handle
whatever
problems came her way.

"Hi dad. Last minute things to settle." She looked at Rory, and
stuck out her hand. "Tania Darius. I gather dad has filled you
in." He took it, and felt the strength, both of her clasp and her
personality.

"Rory Mason."

"Read your file last night. It's only one page, so you can fill
me in, when we have time. That's if there is anything to add.
Ground rules are brief. Like father, like daughter, and I run the
show and decide when we dig. When that happens, you do the
digging. Point Two. Some information may be confidential, and
will be off limits. Live with it. Also, I'm off limits. Any
questions before we go?"

Rory's head was spinning. "I think you've covered everything. If

I have worthwhile input......"

She interrupted him. "I want to sort out our problem, whatever it
is. I don't want to be saddled with anything that doesn't help
that end." She turned and walked to the window.

Rory was sure his question was answered, just that he didn't
understand the answer. He'd play it by ear. "There is one thing."

"Yes," she answered, making it sound more like a statement than a

question, and not turning around to look at him.
"When?"

Darius drained his glass. "Left the details to you, Tan.

She turned quickly, and headed for the door. "Today, Mr. Mason."
Rory caught her smile, as her face reflected in one of the
hanging pictures. "Be at the Air Hazelton desk at Sydney airport by
three
o'clock. Ticket in your name. Don't be late." Then she was gone.

"Don't under estimate her," said Darius, "I wouldn't let her go,
if I wasn't sure of her. Follow your instincts, and your
instructions." A friendly pat on the shoulder, and a definite
propelling towards the door.

"Thanks for the confidence, Mr. Darius."

As Rory opened the door, Darius added, "Make sure nothing happens
to her, Mason, she's all I've got."

Rory turned and nodded, then left.

________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER NINE

He lay flat on the ground, hidden by a small clump of bushes and

some quartz rocks. He could smell the lair just ahead, but any
sound eluded him. A skink suddenly appeared before his face, and
just as quickly, vanished. He brushed away at the inevitable
troublesome flies. He should have heard grunts or some snorting,
but it was dead still. Even the crows were quiet. Raising his
head, ever so slowly, an effort was made for a quick glimpse. The
flattened sand and bushes came into view, but no quarry.

Arthur Benson knew the dangers of stalking wild pigs, but he

prided himself, maybe foolishly, that he was one step ahead, and
not on horseback to frighten the animal into a dangerous
reaction. This was Arthur's first year at this, although he had
lived out here, in the north west of the state, for sixteen
years. Arthur liked to do things differently. Do unusual things.
His parent's place had the only working shadoof in all of
Australia. It moved water from the small dam to a vegetable
irrigation trench. Exactly the same design as the Egyptians used
three thousand yeas ago, and today. To top that, his replicas of
a Norman catapult and a Roman ballista were the highlights at the
local show a few years back.

Today, his opponent was being stalked by stealth and a crossbow.

The design came from the internet and an old history book. It was
powerful and effective. A smaller version of the ballista, when
it was all boiled down. Arthur also knew it was illegal. Hence
being this far out from town. There was a grunt and Arthur froze.
Not because the noise meant that there was a pig in the lair.
Because the grunt came from behind him.

Survival makes different people react in various ways. For

Arthur, it was to face the problem and make snap decisions. The
bow was in his hand but not obviously ready for a good aim. He
found himself looking at a sow, with a young one in tow. Even as
he moved the bow from his prone position, she started to charge.

He released the trigger in desperation, and the bolt went off,

managing to go clear through the pig's ear. Arthur rolled, as the
porcine beast was almost upon him. Both man and beast were
startled by the sound of the shot. The pig immediately took
defensive action and veered off into the bushes, followed by her
charge. Arthur lay still for a few seconds.

The sound had saved him from broken bones or worse. He sat up and
listened. Just the silence, like before. Then the sound of a
vehicle door being slammed, and again, followed by an engine
starting and the vehicle rapidly disappearing. Arthur stood up,
unsure if he should thank the person, or test the waters. Some
dust not so far away to his right, rose over the cypress pine trees.

Retrieving the loosed bolt, he made his way in that direction,

and shortly hit an access track. No sign of the vehicle, just a
smell of dust. Arthur decided to walk the opposite way, and
perhaps find where it was parked, and why. About 200 metres
along, he came to a cleared area, with several cut pines. This
area was not known to him, neither the track, or he might have
gone further out. No rubbish or fire place to betray a reason.
Perhaps someone taking pot shots at a kangaroo. Just as he turned to
head back, the squawking of two magpies sitting on one of the log
piles, raised his curiosity.

He wished he hadn't looked. He vomited and went momentarily

dizzy, at the sight of the man's body, it's head covered in blood
and an ugly hole between the eyes. Those eyes. Just staring.

After a couple of minutes, Arthur knew he had to tell someone,

and he needed to be careful, in case he was suspected of being a
witness, and subsequently in danger. He plucked up the courage
and felt underneath for a wallet or something. There was nothing.

Flies were already gathering. He undid the watch strap and

noticed it was engraved, "A.B.Love K". Also a tattoo of a
stylised fish was near the elbow.

Making sure he had left nothing of his, he covered his boot

prints, and headed through the bush towards his car. Hiding the
bow in the boot, he made the main road and was halfway to the town
of Walgett before he saw any vehicles. Arthur parked outside the
police station, and still shaking, walked inside.
________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER TEN

Rory had started to doze, when the downward movement of the plane
awoke him. He glanced at Tania, noticed she was still asleep,
then looked out the window. Lots of brown and a few patches of
green, like a camouflage motif over the land. It was getting late
in the day, and long shadows spread like fingers across the
landscape. Then the town came into view. Walgett was a small
town, but it was the hub for sheep and cattle in this area.

Rory didn't know the next step, as Tania had spoken little in the
plane, mostly going through papers, and giving him little in the
way of replies to his few questions. Then she snoozed off, and
eventually so did he. A Piper Cherokee was parked on the
airstrip, and Rory imagined they would use it to fly the 80
kilometres or so to the Ridge. But Tania just headed to the
single brick and timber building that served as a terminal.

"Whilst I make a couple of calls," she said to him, "you find out
where our four wheel drive is." He looked outside but saw nothing
that lent credence to a hire vehicle. Then a squeal of brakes,
and a newish Land Cruiser pulled up. Out came a young fellow, who
made straight for Rory.

"Gooday. You from the mining company? Plane must be early."

Without waiting for a reply, he continued on. "Fix up the
paperwork when you come back. Tank's full, and I wish I was. Long
day."

"You right for a lift or something?"

"Yep. See yar," and headed around the side of the building. Rory
went back and grabbed the bags and then noticed Tania almost
running towards him. She dived in the passenger's door. "Let's
go. We have problems."

"Where?" he asked.

"Hospital."

"An accident?" asked Rory.

"Hardly," she replied. "Police found a body yesterday. Think it's

Bedford's. Want me to ID it. I have a photo." She took out a file
from her baggage, and extracted a photograph.

They headed into town, and following the blue signs, pulled up
outside the single story hospital. A police vehicle was parked
outside, also. At the back, a large freezer attached to the cool
room, held the body. Rory stood his distance, but the few words
he caught between the sergeant and Tania, indicated a positive
identity. In the car, as they headed out of town towards
Lightning Ridge, she was quiet. Almost shaken.

"Shot through the head," she said slowly. "Police have no clues
as yet, as to why or by whom. Came from a rifle. Until the
detectives from Sydney arrive, his home is now off limits. Still,
we can check out the mine sites, while we can. And ask around.

"Did you know him?" asked Rory.

"No. Just an employee." There was a silence. "He looked horrible,

Rory. No one, not even Bedford deserves to die like that."

He didn't add anything to what she had said. The memory of his
facing death, recently, was still painful. To know that you will
die violently in the next second, is probably worse that the
actual death. He wondered about his wife. Would she have faced
that knowledge, before the tree finalised it? He hoped she never
did, even for one second. He still missed her. Would always miss
her. Even with another partner, there would be difficulty in
letting her go. You would never let the memory die, but could one
maintain a relationship, independent of the past? Thousands
obviously did, and he would have to.

One of the biggest hazards on country roads for drivers, is the

kangaroo. Especially at dawn and dusk, when it is most active in
looking for food. Every few kilometres, would be the remains of
one, who never made it across the thin strip of bitumen. The
grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but it
always comes with a price.

They had braked hard, once so far, to avoid a collision. Tania

had said nothing. Either she was still thinking about Adrian
Bedford or the 'roos were of no consequence. Apart from some
sheep, there was nothing else alive, if you didn't count the
galahs and cockatoos. Even the creeks were dry.

Rory liked the outback, although this wasn't really that outback.
The area around Mt. Isa was where he had lived a good part of his
life, and the barren hills and rocky protrusions had a beauty he
appreciated. Helen and he had spent a month touring, and the time
they had in the Flinders Ranges, down in South Australia, was
magic for both of them. The vivid yellow and orange colours of
the rocks and the quartz outcrops soaked up their appreciation.
They had climbed up to the summit of St. Mary Peak, and sat for an
hour, just taking in the view and the rolling landscape. The
desert oaks and cypress pines looked like olive green smudges.
Rory wondered at the rocky ramparts, the way they rose from the
valley, and thought, for some obscure reason, how difficult it
must have been for Hannibal, bringing his elephants over the
Pyrenees.

Helen and he, had walked out to the distant Edeowie Gorge, and
swam in the pool below the falls. Their only company were noisy
corellas and a couple of blue tongue lizards. They made love on the
sandy bank, and wondered why life was so good to them. If only
she was here now.

A passing road transport, brought him back to the present. It was

just over an hour since Walgett, and they now left the highway,
and headed north, shortly arriving at the Big Opal, Lightning
Ridge. In contrast to the ironbarks and broadleaf box they had
been driving through, the area around the town had the appearance
of hundreds of huge ant hills dotting the landscape. Already
lights were twinkling, as the hot sun slid behind mullock heaps,
and it's place was taken by a purple light. Soon it would be
dark.

The town was larger than Rory had expected. The tourist dollar
competing for the opal dollar. Tania directed him to the only
obvious hotel. The Diggers Rest. She carried her own bag, and
they pushed through a large and noisy crowd in the public bar to
the counter.

"What'll it be?" An efficient looking bar tender raced by.

"You have rooms booked? Oceanic Mining," yelled Tania.

"Mavis," he yelled, then went off to serve customers.

The bar was full, as would be expected for any country hotel bar
around this time of day. Many were covered in white dust, and
obviously in from the thirsty work of looking for opals. Others
had different looks about them, perhaps locals from neighbouring
properties. A few, like himself, were cleanly dressed.

Shortly a stout woman appeared, from out the back.

"You from Oceanic?," she enquired, automatically wiping a section

of bar as she spoke.

"Yes. You have a couple of rooms for us?" replied Tania.

"Only got one left, love. Got two single beds. OK?"

"No it's not OK, but I'll take it." Tania seemed annoyed. Turning
to Rory, she said, "No doubt your an honourable man, Mr. Mason,
but it won't be put to the test. Take the vehicle and go find a
motel or room somewhere. Join me around seven for dinner, next
door. If I don't see you, we leave at 8AM." Giving him a grin,
she shouldered her bag, and went through the opening marked
'Guests'. Mavis looked at her disappearing back, and then Rory.

"I bet you did something you wished you hadn't. Better work on
your technique, mister. Try the 'Pick and Shovel', second on the
left, down the street. They got a bus load in tonight, but should
be something there."

Rory got the last room, in the timber and asbestos walled motel. The
shower and toilet were outside at the back. He washed and put on a
clean shirt, then went back to the bar. It was noisy, probably never
quiet. He acquired a middy glass of beer, and stood at the back wall.

"You drinking alone?" It was an older person next to him, in

grubby work clothes, and an unshaven face. "In the old days it
was either you brought bad luck, and you know how miners are a
superstitious lot, or your queer."

Rory laughed. "Lot's of reasons why a man drinks alone, mate.

Name's Rory," and stuck out his hand. He felt a strong and
calloused grip.

"Dusty Dan. Been in the Ridge long?"

"Long enough. Less than one hour. Just joking. Come to check out
a couple of diggings with my boss. How come Dusty?" A darts game
at the back was getting out of hand. One dart ended up vertical
on a patron's boot. Then Rory saw two chairs, and motioned to his
new offsider. He knew the fellow was after a free beer or two or
three, but this was one sure way to find out what was happening.

Dan cleared his throat and took another swallow. "On account of
the ways I drive me truck. Fast and one side on the gravel. Sure
does send up a cloud. Been up here thirty years. Before even
Diesel Bob came. We worked together a few years, but both being
stubborn types, thought better we did our own thing. Hot night."
 Rory got the hint and headed to the bar. He pushed his way
back to the chairs.

Dan took a long sip. "You into mining? Interested in buying?"

"I'm into mining all sorts of metals and stones. Was pulling out
tin in Indonesia two weeks ago. Here to check on a couple of
sites the boss has. Haven't a clue what or where, but they are
owned by Oceanic Mining. Heard of them?"

"Nope. Tin eh? You need lots of water for that. Know anything
about opals? I can show you around."

"Thanks," said Rory, "just might take you up on that. I have to

go and meet the boss, now, but if we come back around lunch
tomorrow, where will I find you?" Then realised that was a silly
question. The pub of course.

"I got a pretty busy day tomorrow, but I'm seeing a client about
some sales around lunch. I'll pop in here and wait. One for the
road?"

Rory smiled and accommodated his friend, then with a wave, pushed
his way outside, into the cooler night air, and the relative
quietness. Memories of Cloncurry and other towns, rang bells.
Then he thought of Pakanbaru, so recent yet so far away. Here it
was dry and peaceful. There it was always humid, and the town
never sleeping, a seething mass of humanity and sounds and
smells.

He entered the restaurant, next door, and looked around. He'd

been in a lot worse, and as long as the food was good, who cares.
He couldn't see Tania, so he took a table and waited. Next to his
table, was a woman on her own. She was eating a meal but her
actions and facial expressions betrayed a more pressing concern
than the food. She glanced at him and went back to her meal. He
looked away but a few seconds later, heard a piece of cutlery
fall, and he glanced back. She wasn't coping. Rory thought she
was going to spit the dummy. He reached down and picked it up.

"I believe this is yours," and placed it on the table.

"Yes. Sorry. I mean thanks."

"Name's Rory. Anything I can get you?" Able to take a closer

look, he saw that she was distressed. She was also quite an
attractive brunette in her forties. Wedding ring.
 "No. I'm right." She stabbed at a pea, and it skidded off the
plate. Then she cried.

"Take your time," he said, and offered her a serviette.

"Thank you. I'm sorry to be a nuisance. I left him, and he didn't

care. Better I let you have your meal, and I go and cry myself to
sleep."

"I'm waiting for someone. Been through the crying game myself. It
eases the pain but doesn't bring them back. Talking helps."

Rory felt sad for her, whatever the reason might be. She didn't
seem to have the pretension of many women, and despite her lack
of any make up or jewellery, had appeal.

"Alcohol," she said, "became too much. Blotto most nights and no
attempt to face the problem, even for me. Drank before we were
married, and gave it up. For a while. Three happy years but then
it crept in. I blame myself. I failed."

"You're too hard on yourself. It's possible that no matter what

you did, how hard you worked at it, nothing would have changed."
Rory sort to make some comforting generalisation. 'While she's
talking she isn't crying', he said to himself.

"I'd like to believe that," she said, "but if there was a thing
between him and me, why did it stop? I tried, but in the end..."

"When did you go?"

She succeeded this time in capturing a pea and dispatching it.

"About a month ago. Told him one night, I had reached the end,
and you know what the bastard said? 'Good riddance'. Three years
and that was all he felt." Tears started to well up again.

Rory changed the direction of talk. "How come Lightning Ridge?"

"Oh. After a week of getting silence, I moved my personal stuff

into storage and myself out of his storage." She smiled at what
she had said. "Clever sentence."

Rory smiled, and put out his hand. "Rory Mason. And Lightning
Ridge?"

"Oh yes. A letter last week from him, the only one he ever wrote
me, mind, to say I was finished and he was getting a divorce. So
I wanted to get out of Melbourne a while. Booked in on an outback
bus tour. This is the second night of three, here. Then to Emerald up
in Queensland and then bush camping in some gorge."

"You might find some where better than Melbourne."

She pushed her plate away. "And you?"

"Widower. No kids. Here on business and no home. Not much for me,
either."

"May I join you, or would I be intruding?" The voice came from

behind him, and he jumped slightly. He knew it was Tania. As he
stood to introduce her, she beat him to it.

"Tania Darius," and sat down at Rory's table.

"Penny." The voice just a bit softer.

"Nice." replied Tania. "You a friend of Rory here?"

"No. We were just chatting. I must let you eat, and nice to meet you,
Rory." She stuck out her hand, and he took it, looking into her eyes.
There was a glint of happiness behind them, or did he imagine it?
Then she smiled at Tania and turned, the closing the door of the
restaurant, the only memory.

Rory wondered if Tania was showing authority or ownership of some

sorts, or was it a female thing. He sat down and looked at her.

She was dressed in smart country clothes, that showed off her figure
and her breeding. "I do carry a few essentials. Have you ordered?"

"No. I wouldn't presume to order for you. Besides there was no hurry."
He wondered what sort of tongue lashing he might have received,
whether he chose correctly or not.

"Good. One needs to be selective in these places. Mind, most are far
better quality than some of those at home. Just lacks presentation
usually. Try the beef, second from the top."

"Thanks," said Rory, "but I might go for the grilled fish. Developed a
liking for fish in the tropics. Rarely had a choice."

What he didn't express aloud, was the thought of being told what to
eat. He would have liked the beef. He had had enough fish to last ten
lifetimes, but he wasn't going to buckle under. What was going to be
more difficult to take, was the way the tight denim skirt with the top
button undone, accentuated her trim body.
"Definitely not a yes man, I see." She smiled and signalled the
proprietor.

Whilst the meals were coming, they chatted and little insights
came out. It was not always a gilded life she had led. Rory
softened a little, in fact became interested. He reciprocated and
by coffee, had enjoyed himself. He would have liked a beer, but
it appeared the place was not licensed.

"Spoke to my father, before I joined you."

"Oh?" Rory was a little taken back that this only would surface
now, and not an hour ago.

"Try to keep business separate." She finished her coffee before

continuing. "He would have flown up straight away, when we found
out about Adrian, but he's got a meeting in New York tomorrow.
We're on our own for a few days."

"I'm sure we should make some progress. Mind you, we should keep
clear of the police investigation...."

"It's our business, and the police can make all the noise they
want." Her voice was raised and a few heads turned. Rory realised
that she had a bit riding on the outcome of the opal business.
Whether it was family pride, or some ultimatum from Darius, was
not yet clear. He changed tact.

"I'm anxious as you are to find out what has happened. I'll walk
you to the hotel and see what tomorrow brings."

"You think I need.....long time since I was walked home. As you

say, big day ahead." She got up and fished out a credit card from
her purse.

"Don't mean to be a pain," Rory chipped in, "but in a place like

this, and the need to find out things, the locals prefer to
maximise the income. Paperwork is for the city."

"If you mean cash, just say the bloody word, not give me a thesis
on it."

Rory winced inside, and stood at the door. Nothing was said in
the short walk to the hotel.

"Eight tomorrow," and with a soft smile and just that little
pause, she moved off inside.
Rory was deep in thought. Maybe a crack in the fortress wall.
Maybe he would yet call the boss, Montgomery. Forget it. Then
there was the woman tonight, Penny. Well gemstones come in many
forms. He walked back to the motel. It was quiet. Saying there
was a bus load in and no noise, suggested they were probably in
one of the hotels.
________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rory never thought about whether 'eight' meant breakfast or ready

to leave. He was always up early and judging by the situation and
the limited time frame they had, it would be the latter. Scoffing
down some eggs and toast, the Toyota Landcruiser suddenly appeared
from the lane next to the hotel, with Tania behind the wheel. Throwing
some money on the table and gulping a few mouthfuls of coffee
down as he headed for the door, he slowed his pace as he left the
premises. All part of the game, trying to be in charge whilst in
second place.

"Morning." A chirpy voice greeted him. "Hope you had a better

sleep than I did. Noisy place."

"Very quiet. That's if you don't include the termites chomping

away."

"Good. We can't get inside Adrian's house, as the police would

have locked it up, but we can go out and look around the mine
sites. We'll try the 'Betty Rose' first. It was being worked when
my father rang. I hope the fellows are still there."

"Where is it?", asked Rory as they moved down the street.

She fiddled in her bag on the seat with one hand, and produced a
folded map, which Rory took.

"It was out of date as soon as it was drawn. New roads and tracks
every day. There are so many diggings, owners need a field map
just to identify their claim. We're out past the 'Three Mile'."

They passed another motel called something Opal. What caught

Rory's eye was the crowd of people, mostly men, hanging around in
the front yard. At first he thought it was a bus group, but as
they drove past, noticed a man leave a door and immediately
another, with a parcel, go in, whilst the others just appeared to
look, and wait. Then the vehicle turned a corner and new scenery
to be absorbed. Rory didn't comment on what he saw. He would
wait. The houses and other buildings started to disappear. A
glimpse of a couple of touristy opal places, then mullock heaps
separated by small iron bark and butterwood trees.
Tania had been out here once before, but trying to relate the map
to actual physical landscape and the myriad of tracks, was almost
impossible. Then there was the dust. It billowed up in great
waves, like sails on a ship catching the breeze. It seeped
slowly inside despite the windows being kept shut. Imperceptible
but you could feel it. Everywhere he looked, Rory saw mullock
heaps and machinery, even people occasionally.

Twice they stopped and asked. One ignored them and kept working,
but the other said to turn at the drums. What the drums were,
Tania couldn't remember, but shortly some empty fuel drums one
with a painted cross, came up and they veered left. After about a
kilometre a large bucket hoist and several piles of tailings.
Also a sign that said 'Betty Rose. Keep Out'.

Two vehicles were parked next to a shed and the noise of the
petrol motor pulling up a bucket caught the ears. They walked
over to the top of the shaft and looked down.

"Hey. What do you blokes want?" The voice came from the engine
behind them. Then the bucket came up and emptied it's load as the
two tracks curved at the top. Then silence as the motor was cut.
They were looking at a fellow in his thirties, large beard and
covered in dust.

"Like I said, what do you want? This is private land." The sound
of someone climbing up the rungs of the ladder from the shaft
could be heard.

"You Tony?" Tania looked him straight in the eye. The

authoritarian tone of her voice made him uneasy and he glimpsed
at Rory.

"Yer." Then a voice from the shaft. "Problem?"

Tania answered both at the same time. "Tania Darius. Oceanic."

Then swung to the emerging wombat. "There should be another. He
still underground?"

Tony didn't answer immediately, just looked from Tania to Rory.

It was the wombat who spoke.

"Thought we might be paid a visit eventually. I'm Phil. Had the

police out yesterday looking for Adrian. Ken, the other bloke
sort of doesn't get on with the law. Said he would be over at the
Annetts brothers if he was wanted."

Up to now Rory hadn't said a word. After all it was her show.
"You looking for Mr.Bedford?" said Tony, "he hasn't been here for
days. Something happened to him? I mean the police and now you."
 The quietness was punctured by the loud cawing of a crow. Rory
had decided to look at the skip haulage and the adjacent shaft.
It wasn't very large in diameter and no bottom could be
discerned. Only a metal ladder descending into the blackness.

"Adrian's dead," replied Tania.

Tony’s face took on a blank look. Then he shook his head and
looked at his workmate. Neither spoke.

She took up the slack. "Some one shot him. We'll let the police
sort that out. Until we get ourselves organised, I'd like you,
Tony, to continue here."

Tony looked at Rory who was examining the last bucket load.

"Oh, this is Rory Mason, my assistant." She raised her voice.

"Rory."

Rory heard his name and returned to the group. The lack of a
command made it clear where his place was. He shook hands with
both men. "Rory. Been around mining all my life, but opals is
something new. You blokes seem to have it pretty well under
control."

There was no reply but their expression, however imperceptible,

indicated he had made contact. None of this was lost on Tania
either.

"Rory is my assistant. As he says, he knows little about opals.

Know anything about the other site, Dig 44?"

Before either could reply, a flock of galahs noisily flew up from

some scrub a short distance away. Rory glanced, and saw the
momentary flash of light reflecting on something. His time in the
jungle had tuned his senses well. Even as the others turned at
his warning, he was running towards the spot, but keeping a
mullock heap between him. There was the sound of a vehicle
starting up and spinning wheels. A dust cloud rose up over the
vegetation and hung there. Then a glimpse of the rear of a black
4X4 with two whip aerials before it was swallowed up by dirt
heaps and coolabah trees. When the others joined him, it was gone
from sight, only a few seconds of retreating noise was left for them.
"Get a look?" It was Phil.

Rory shook his head. "Black with two aerials. Only heard one door
slam, but could have been others inside."

"Maybe tourists or ratters. Always some one poking their nose

around," ventured Tony.

It was Tania who spoke. "No tourists. Who ever it was, had an
interest in us. If it was the mine, they would have stayed away
until we left. No, the business of the stones and now Bedford's
death brought them."

Rory cocked an ear. "What business of the stones?"

"Let's stick to the matters at hand," dismissing his question.

"Tony, you and Phil keep bringing up the current lead and
shipping into town. I can be reached at the Diggers Rest."

Tony removed his battered hat and scratched his head. "Recon' we
will dig it out in a couple of days. What then?"

There was annoyance in her reply. "Well keep looking for more. Do
I have to hold your bloody hand?." Then turning on her heel,
headed for the Landcruiser.

Rory raised his eyebrows at the two men in a sort of sympathy

gesture. Before he had even turned, there was a command.

"Come on. Lots to do." then the sound of a door slamming.

Rory was in two frames of mind. One to let this dominant streak
get to him, or accept his role he had known since the meeting in
Sydney. He decided on the latter. Taking life as it came was part
of his make up.

"What do you make of that?" He broke the silence after a couple

of minutes.

She looked straight ahead. "There's big money riding here. People
who steal opals and kill. That means money."

"Or jealousy," he countered.

"Or a lot of things. I've seen the man thing before so just
remember why your here. Back to town."

He wasn't sure what she meant by the last remark, but she may
have resented his rapport with the two miners. 'Let it go'.
Then a softer voice but still staring out at the iron barks and
cypresses. "Good move spotting that vehicle."

He smiled to himself.

She directed him to stop at a tourist establishment. The signs

and the buses confirmed that. He noticed the sign said 'Log Cabin
Opal Shoppe'. A couple of aboriginals were sitting outside.
Across the road was a sign. Something about a goat race but it
was partly obscured by a parked truck.

Then she came out, the resigned look not very appealing.

"We need someone to take us out to Dig 44. He usually can help
but not for a couple of hours."

Rory's mind switched on. "Dusty Dan. He's worth a try."

"Who?"

"Met him last night. Local character. I get the impression if he

doesn't know about it, then no one does."

"Local boozo more like it. OK, see if you can find him."

They parked near the hotel and Tania said she would wait. "Bring
six cold ones and anything edible," she added.

Even at this time of day the bar was well patronised. His initial
glance around failed to locate the person he wanted, so he
thought it worth a try asking the barmaid. It wasn't necessary.
Dusty Dan emerged from the rest room doorway. Rory signalled him
and the old fellow made a bee line.

"Met you yesterday, didn't I. That's right. Looking for a dig I

seem to remember. Betty Rose. Hot morning."

Rory smiled. "Only if we can use your services. Now."

"Just happens I'm between engagements. Make it a big schooner."

Rory signalled the woman serving. "Small beer for my friend,

and any sandwiches or the like?"

"Ham and cheese left down there."

"I'll take them."

"That size beer won't touch the sides," remarked Dan.

"Know the old saying about a bird in the hand," countered Rory.

"Just so happens I studied English. Where we going?"

Rory motioned him outside. The middy was drunk quicker than he
could blink. Outside, away from the crowd, he turned to him.

"Dig 44."

Dan cocked an eye at him. "Word is strange things happen out

there. They'll be a, um, surcharge."

"Take these sandwiches and get in the back of that Landcruiser.

and be nice to the lady. She's my boss. I have to get some liquid
for our lunch."

There was a gleam in Dusty Dan's eyes.

They drove west, past the motel with the same small gathering of
men. "Business has been good this week," said Dan letting his
eyes stay on the crowd as it receded from view.

"What exactly is going on," asked Tania. "Surely not ladies of

the night, or to be more exact, day?"

Dan cocked an eye at her. "In the pecking order of things,

missus, opals and grog are ahead. That's the local stock market,
so to speak. Trade is brisk and more money changes hands there
than probably in the Commonwealth Bank."

"Is the wealth evenly split," asked Rory, "or is it poor miners
and wealthy buyers?"

"What do you think? When it all boils down to it, it's no

different in this business than most others. Turn here." The last
words almost too late, and Rory heaved on the wheel, lurching the
vehicle in a cloud of bull dust. Tania, who had undone her seat
belt to put her satchel in the back at that coincidental moment,
fell sideways on to Rory. She straightened herself, face slightly
red.

"If you're into games, Mr. Mason, don't start. It's a long walk back
to civilisation."
"Blame our guide, not me. Some advance notice would be helpful."

The country was dry. Even the trees seem to droop. Birds gave the
only movement to a landscape begging to be captured in oils. And
still the persistent white mole hills, the insides of this earth,
rolled by. Most seemed devoid of life, but every now and again,
vehicles and buildings and people. Searching for that big vein.
That one big blob of colour to make it all worthwhile.

Rory knew the mining of gem opals was an individual's game. It

was labour intensive and it required patience. 'Be in it to win
it' was the motto of the day. Like other metals you had to work
hard. He turned his head for a second to Dan.

"Any attempt at commercialising the business up here? First

there's a fork ahead. Left or right?"

"Just stay on the main track."

Rory was a little perplexed. Both seemed identical. A pot hole

pulled the steering wheel slightly to the right, so he stayed on
that tack. There was no comment from behind.

"Far Mr. Dusty?" It was Tania who asked the question.

"Soon. Mentioning dusty....."

"Forget it," said Rory, pre-empting him.

Dan mumbled something about he should have stayed in town, then

went quiet.

"Big mines, Dan." Rory thought a change of topic might help.

"A couple. They drown the little bloke. Glengarry had an open cut
past the Six Mile. Cost a packet but it paid. Word was they got
$9 million worth before it stopped. You could hear the explosion
for a hundred miles. It's off limits but people go in and fossick
in the mullock heaps. I'm too old to dodge the bullets. Left at
that pile of tyres. Almost there."

As Rory turned the Landcruiser onto the access track, he noticed

wheel tracks. They drove down across a dry creek bed,
scattering sulphur crested cockatoos and a sizeable goanna. Then a
sign saying "Dig 44 Keep Out". A brand new galvanised shed and
some hefty sized tailings stood next to an equally impressive
derrick. A little way off another shed with a fly screened
veranda.
They got out and stood looking. Not a sound. Even the birds had
kept their presence quiet. The inevitable bush flies were also
few in number.

Rory threw a can of Fosters at Dan and told him not to wander.
There were wheel tracks heading for the rear building. He also
saw Dan looking at the same thing. 'Not so stupid' thought Rory.

"What happened to the crew here? Do the police know?" They were
walking to the nearest shed.

"Is this forty questions?," she retorted. "I have no more idea
than you or the police for that matter. There were 3 workers.
They had vanished when the police came out looking for Bedford,
and apparently aren't in town."

Rory glanced a couple of times at the rear building and scanned

his eyes around the site. He was wondering how long ago the
tracks had been left. Nothing seemed out of place. Inside, no mess to
suggest a search. Everything had a layer of dust. A new electric
percussion drill lay in the corner. A report log hadn't been
updated for about ten days. A bin full of potch, lay on it's side
at the rear. the only thing so far out of place.

"I want you to go down."

Rory took a couple of seconds to get her meaning, and couldn't

suppress a smirk.

She caught his expression. "The temptation to drive off back to

town whilst you're down there is high on the agenda."

He thought best to divert her attention from him to the job.

"I'll need a light. Let's try the back shed."

She strode ahead and was inside before him. There was a scream,
then nothing.

Rory was only a few seconds behind her, throwing himself through
the doorway and almost barrelling Tania. A movement near the
table caught his immediate attention, but the transition from
light to dark meant it would be a few seconds before he could
focus properly. He stood at the side of Tania and took both her
shoulders with his hands, ready to drag her sideways from any
attack. It came but not from where he expected. Tania brought her
elbow back, catching him in the side and knocking the air from
his lungs. His hands dropped to his stomach as he gasped in pain.
"Get your bloody hands off me," she yelled. "That native girl
should have finished what she started."
"I was trying to protect you." Rory was feeling annoyed.

"From what?"

Then he remembered the movement and glanced around. The goanna

flicked it's tongue in and out and hissed.

"Lizards in front and sleezes behind." Then she turned on her

heel and walked out.

Rory was resigned to the fact that he couldn't win. Pakanbaru

suddenly seemed more attractive. He opened the door and the large
metal window cover and allowed more light to flood the room. It
was much like the other. All in order and a film of dust over
everything. Except the empty packet of cigarettes. There were
some good clothes and boots but no work gear, in one of the
lockers. Milk stood on the table, the object of the lizard's
attention, but well and truly off. He went outside and headed for
the Landcruiser, where Tania was eating a sandwich.

Rory was about ten metres from the vehicle, when the first shot
raised the dust just in front of his feet. Then it was chaos. He
galvanised himself forward and then a weave to the left. Two more
shots then a third hit the vehicle. Yelling as he stooped, Tania
had dropped her lunch and stood mesmerised. Lunging forward, he
grabbed her and pushed her down on the ground, landing on top of
her. In the closeness he smelt the perfume. That was all he had
time to do, as more shots rattled around them, one hitting the
windscreen and shattering it. They had luckily ended up behind a
small mound of mullock. Another shot sprayed dirt onto them as it
hit the top.

"What's happening," she rasped.

"Apart from being shot at, I don't know." Rory tried to look
around the mound and pin point the assailant. He was forced to
take cover quickly. If they could get into the transport there
might be a chance, but it looked unlikely.

Then Dusty Dan's voice. "Get ready to jump in." The sound of the
engine starting up brought two more shots, which missed the
vehicle as it had started to reverse fairly quickly. A second
later it was behind the mound and the passenger door came open.
Rory lifted Tania up and thrust her at the opening. "Hurry," he
yelled, yanking the rear door open and diving in, as another shot
took out the door's window. Then Dan flattened the engine and
spun the wheels on full lock. At speed this probably would have
flipped the Landcruiser over, but they made it. A fuel drum was
tossed high in the air and a bullet came through the rear and
lodged in the ceiling lining. The rough track caused the vehicle
to be air borne continually, with the occupants being catapulted
in all directions.

"Don't look now," yelled Dan, "but they're after us. Rory managed
to grab the door grip and looked back. Despite the dust they were
throwing up, the outline of a black 4X4 chasing them was obvious.
The lack of front and rear windows had the effect of being in a
wind tunnel. It didn't build up but flowed through. Unfortunately
it also it took with it any thing not tied down. The noise made
it difficult to talk.

"Back floor." It took a few seconds before Dan's message made

sense to Rory. Wrapped in calico was a rifle. Hanging on, he
pulled the wrapping off, which immediately was sucked out the
rear window opening. It was only a .22 but he might be lucky, was
Rory's thought. However fate dealt another card. Shooting up a
small depression, the Landcruiser became quite airborne. When the
front wheels finally hit home, they were turned at a small angle
and the vehicle skidded sideways. Dan fought the wheel trying to
right the direction, but off the track a protruding root
punctured the front left tyre and it exploded. They careered into
the scanty scrub, with Dan trying to bring the vehicle to a
halt. The large iron bark tree came at them so fast, that in
trying to avoid a head on, the tail of the vehicle smacked the
tree and with a yell from Dan, they all felt the Landcruiser tilt
then roll. It flipped onto it's roof and skidded to a standstill.

Thick choking dust and loss of orientation made the occupants

just lay there. Dan's yell was enough warning to brace
themselves. How no one was seriously injured was a miracle. Both
Tania and Dan were moaning, and this galvanised Rory into action.
Quickly exiting through the side window, he still had the small
rifle in his hand. Dropping it, he reached in the front door
which was opened and dragged Tania out by the armpits. She
started to struggle. He told her to relax, then without thinking
why, kissed her. There was a moment of acceptance, then logic
took over from emotions. She struggled and pushed herself to
stand upright, if somewhat unsteady.

Whilst Tania's next reaction was probably to lash out and slap
his face, it was never put to the test. The eerie silence that
followed the crash, was broken by the sound of a vehicle pulling
up on the track, some 50 metres away.

Rory instantly knew they were in trouble. Serious trouble when

both front doors of the black vehicle opened. Then he remembered
the rifle at his feet. Grabbing it and without checking to even
see if it was loaded, aimed at the figure emerging from the left
side, and pulled the trigger.

There was sound and recoil and a shattered window collapsing on

the ground. Blindly he squeezed the trigger again but nothing
happened. It was a single shot weapon. Half expecting to see the
automatic weapon being turned on them, he instead saw both doors
slam shut and the vehicle accelerate away in a spectacle of dust
and wheel spinning. It's sound of retreat becoming more distant,
was like a load being lifted from his shoulders.

Then Tania was standing beside him. "I ought to leave you staked
on an ant hill, but you probably saved the day." Her voice was
not raised, just matter of fact.

"They could come back," he replied. "I was a bit out of line.
Sorry, but it seemed the best idea to get you moving, at the
time."

"Courage under fire or something," then smiled. Suddenly a groan

and they both realised that Dusty Dan was still inside. Rory
crawled in and looked at the heroic driver. There was no blood
apart from cuts and his eyes were open.

"That was some Empire Day celebration," he said weakly.

"Can you move your legs? Anything broken?" Rory was concerned.

Dan lifted an arm and grabbed Rory's shoulder. "Son. You're going
to have to do something in a hurry for me." Rory's face now
registered real apprehension. Tania had come around the other
side and she looked pale when she heard this.

"What is it," replied Rory, in a quivering tone.

"The beer wasn't damaged, was it? I'm not crawling out until I've
washed my insides down."

________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER TWELVE
A cool breeze drifted across the veranda bringing with it the
smell of jasmine from the water tanks stand and a hint of animal.
Most likely sheep, for they were in the middle of a few thousand
acres of sheep country. Merrel wrapped her shawl closer and
stared at the crimson and grey sunset. She marvelled at the beauty
despite the fact she had seen thousands like it. It was like her
own private art collection. A place to retreat to for a few
minutes each day, away from the business of running a property
and supporting a wealthy pastoralist. They both had head starts.
Both were born into good families, given the right chances and
whilst she had secret dreams of being the world's leading ballet
star as a young girl, knew her place had been already been set
aside. She would marry into a suitable and well to do family, and
bear children to continue the cycle. He mother said three, but a
fourth came along, all in the mould of their parents.

She couldn't complain really. Francis was a good man. Only of

late he had worried her. Visits by businessmen she did not know
and his interest in opals more than perhaps a pastoralist would
need to. He called it diversification to cover the bad times of
drought and falling wool prices. She called it boredom.

Then there was Adrian. He flirted with her, and many more that
night, at the annual Ag Society's Dinner Dance. She ignored him.
After all there were stories and he did have his wife with him.
Why he was there apart from the obvious was a slight mystery.
Still anyone could buy tickets. Francis seemed oblivious to it
all.

She thought about that night often. And another night. Adrian
came to visit Francis, but he was away somewhere. He brought
flowers and she gave him a peck on the cheek as a thankyou and
drew back as she felt embarrassed yet something else. Like wine
going to her head all of a sudden. He smiled and said nothing. In
the lounge they chatted over coffee and that same smile. He
admired her opal pendant but she knew he was admiring her. When
she came back from the kitchen with more cake, he was standing
up. He took the plate off her and placed it down on the centre
table. She stood there. Then he held her. His lips were soft. She
offered no resistance. It became as passionate as she had long
forgotten from her youth. She took his hand and led him to the
sewing room. The patterns and wools were swept aside from the
settee as were the clothes they were wearing. It had been a long
time for her. Adrian was over anxious for when she reached up to him,
It was over before it started. She remembered him saying 'sorry' then
kissing like she never knew.

It never went much further. She heard the dog barking and the
sound of a motor. She pushed him away, the puzzled look on his
face quickly giving way to alarm when he realised why. He grabbed
his clothes and ran to the window, then returned and with an arm
around her back, a kiss she had never forgotten. Then out on to
the veranda, as the car door slammed shut, around the other side
of the house.

When Francis came inside and threw his felt hat onto the sofa,
she was in the kitchen making distinct noises with cups. He never
mentioned Adrian's car, but a minute or so later, there was a
knock on the door, and there he was, all dressed. Some story
about he had just arrived and saw Frank's car coming through the
gate as he was getting something from the boot. A bit thin,
thought Merrel, but her head was in no mood for rational thought.
He and Francis had a drink and discussed things out the back, and
that was that.

Perhaps not quite. She often wondered what it would have been
like if Francis had not come home so early.

A cool wisp of a breeze made her pull the old brown cardigan
closer around the small shoulders, and she sighed when the insect
screened door squeaked slightly as it was pulled opened. Perhaps
background music to a dream. Like looking through a window.

The noises of the night were interrupted by the shrill ringing of

the phone. Merrel picked it up. It was Fran Phillips from down
the way. The conversation was the usual for Fran, but like
Latin grammar, the real reason would come at the end. It did. Had
she heard about Adrian? Merrel went cold. Her thoughts confused,
she sat down. Then she realised Fran was still speaking. "No, I
hadn't heard. Where?. This is terrible. Can I call you back?
Good. Bye."

She reflected on the last couple of minutes. No one could suspect

anything happened. It was a one off. Francis might have guessed,
but it was unlikely. She let it drop. Would face each step as it
happened.

Not only Merrel, but others had an interest in the local radio
news. Francis for one. Life on the land was unpredictable, but
there was always a methodical course of action for each event. In
this case there was none, and he was confused. He drove back to
his new windmill, recently installed to replace an old one which
had ceased to pump, and stood leaning on the bonnet of the car.
He needed to know what happened to Bedford. If he was murdered,
why? And could there be a connection to himself. 'Damn the opals'
he thought, 'why did I ever get involved?' Like the proverbial
triangle, there was still Maurie Hopkins. He was a property man
in the north west, buying and selling and generally making deals.

How did it start? A flock of galahs were drinking from the

troughs but he was in no mood to observe nature.

Probably back at that F&G meeting a year back, when property

owners were faced with increased ratings by the Rural Protection
Board and market constrictions. The president said they had to
diversify but absorb the costs in their current workings.
Otherwise the big city companies would swallow them up. The
Mullents had been on the land for generations. Even the opal find
of 1903 that eventually put the Ridge on the world map, didn't
sway them. Sheep could be seen. Black opal was like the fabled El
Dorado, perhaps nothing for years. Or ever.

Like a few at that meeting, Frank asked questions. Listened. Took

in ideas. Adrian Bedford was listening, and he also was
diversifying, but not from wool. He arranged for someone to
broach the subject with Mullent, for Frank's background would not
have initiated such a thing. It was risky but in the end, what
wasn't in business.

Frank needed to put up some capital. Maurie Hopkins was in on it

and Adrian would supply quality stones to an unknown buying
syndicate in far away Brisbane, for offshore distribution. No one asked
where they came from but it was understood this deal was tainted
and the opal obviously lifted. Frank casually asked around and
found Adrian managed two mines for a Sydney company. One was
worked with known locals. The other, Dig 44, had suddenly seen
the local labour let go and then new unknown workers employed.
Frank was a silent partner, like Hopkins. Once every three
months, Bedford would come around to the house and leave a
package, which Frank took a couple of hundred kilometres away to
the larger towns of Coonamble or Dubbo and passed over
to Maurie Hopkins. From there it continued it's journey to the
other side of the world. Likewise cash would be left with him at
the same time. No doubt a hefty discount would have been pocketed
beforehand.

But Adrian Bedford had crossed the boundary somewhere. Would he

be next? He drove home and found Merrel sitting on the front
veranda. She seemed on edge. When she did not rise, he joined her.

"Merrel. We need to talk about Adrian Bedford."

Merrel stiffened. It was going to be hard to hold back her tears.

It was obvious he had known that night. "It's not what you think
Francis." The words came out slowly.
"It is what I think," he cut in. "He's dead, and I'm involved,
somehow. I should have told you before, but....I just didn't."

She turned sharply and looked at him, not saying a word. Too
shocked to say anything. Not so much because Adrian was dead, but
realising this was not about her, but about Francis. The cautious
relief that showed in her face was not obvious to him.

"About you? What do you mean dear?" The thought of Adrian and
Francis having some sort of affair came and just as quickly left.

He told her. It was also a telling that was so different about

him. For the first time in years, he talked to her as his equal,
the only focus for his thought and words was her. She started to
cry. Didn't really know if it was for joy or relief or sadness.
She saw the look of alarm in his face, and fearing he might take
this as a sign of rejection, took his hand and squeezed it.

They didn't speak for several minutes, just looking out over the
scant grass and scrub beyond, then at each other.

"Who do you think did it?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know. Probably whoever he dealt

with. Must have short changed someone. What a mess."

Just then an eagle came into view, soaring low across the east
paddock. It turned and with a quick flap, was rising and lost
behind a stand of butterbox trees.

"If the police come," said Francis, "we don't know anything."

Merrell thought a second. "People know he came out here a bit."

"True. Friend. He liked art, and we listened to his stories of

the mining business. Even bought the odd stone. End of story."

He then stood up and offered his hand to her. She took it and
felt the strength, as she gained her feet. The uncertainty of a
few minutes ago was now being replaced. "A brandy seems in
order," he said as he stepped across the veranda and into the
dark hallway.

Meanwhile in another part of the country, a nervous Maurie

Hopkins was trying to quickly finish a sale of a small property
and had he been himself, probably would have squeezed another
$10,000 or so out of the buyers. This time he had other concerns
on his mind, and whilst the new owners went away smiling, he
locked the door of the office, and headed to his car. Not that he
was an expert, but nothing or no one seemed out of the ordinary,
as he drove out of the main street and down to the bridge where
the river lay far below in sluggish pools. He had seen it reach
the decking once, but today his mind was elsewhere. He pulled
over under a peppercorn tree, turned the car so he could see the road
both ways, and took stock.
_______________________________________________________________________________
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.
________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When the bucket finally disappeared and with it Rory's head,

Tania felt her heart miss a beat. Wondering if it was because she
was now alone or because of the man descending with the bucket,
she dismissed the thought. Then the thought returned. She had
often been alone, perhaps too much. Even with someone she was
alone.

Then the cable started to rattle and brought her back to the
present. She slipped the clutch and cut the power, realising the
bucket must already be down on the ground. Around her it was hot.
Behind, a group of crows made noises and she heard the flapping
of wings. She didn't turn around. The man in the shaft dominated
her immediate interest from a business point of view, mostly. If
she had, it would have probably made little difference. A strong
hand grabbed her from behind and another was placed across her
mouth. She struggled but realised very quickly it was better to
relax and see what was happening.

A middle aged man, with work clothes and long straggly hair
appeared and looked down the shaft. He was carrying a small bore
rifle. Feeling a little relaxing of the hand on her mouth, she
pulled back her lips and as the hand moved with the skin, she
bit. A curse and momentary removal. It was enough. She shouted as
loud as she could.

Tania didn't hear the reply from below. That was because her
captor had given her head a heavy blow, sending her reeling and
crashing to the ground. Before she passed out she caught a
wavering glimpse of the rifle being pointed down the shaft and a
loud noise. Then nothing.

She remembered the bumpy ride and feeling sick but little else.
Then starting to get her senses in a darkened little room. Tania
found the door but it was locked. She pounded on it but to no
avail. There was nothing she could find except some tins of food
and some empty bowls. One of the bowls was put to good use. After
about two hours, the light came on and the door thrown back. It
took her time to focus but there was a man with a pistol.

"OK Miss. Outside." He didn't need to say any more. Tania walked
out and into a kitchen. She sat in the chair indicated .Two men
were in the room. One she recognised from her last seconds at the
mine shaft. The other was younger. Dressed much the same but
neither had the appearance of being from the bush. More like
urban cowboys.
"What's going on?" she asked.

The two men looked at each other. "Pretty, isn't she?" said the
one in the red check shirt.

"You and your women," retorted the older one. "Lady. You've
caused us a problem. First up, we thought you and Bedford were
together, and we wanted our money back. Or the boss does."

Tania was exhausted but her mind was active. "Why bring me here?"

The younger one smiled. A greasy smirk that suggested not

pleasant things. "Lady. You had possibilities. We got rid of your
boyfriend but a little recreation time and who knows, you could
live a long time."

Tania wasn't so naive to believe that. It wouldn't stop at two

murders, and she would die trying anything before one of them
laid a hand on her.

"Now that has turned to profit," said the other. It appears your
the owner of the mine and with a very wealthy daddy. Looks like
we collect either way. And Benny here can be quite friendly in
the meantime."

She wanted to yell at them. Do something. But the vision of Rory

lying at the bottom of the shaft just brought up tears.

"A crier, Ben. Just up your alley."

________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rory went straight to the hotel after his visit to the police
station. He needed to. A double whisky to shake off the tongue
lashing he received. He could actually cope with the ticking off
but it was the implication that he had caused Tania's abduction
and 'there was no proof that she had been taken' that got him
irritated.

Eventually they calmed down about him interfering in a murder

enquiry and trespassing. There would be a follow up on the
missing Miss Darius. He was told to go and have a drink and await
developments. And that was exactly what he was going to do. That
is have a drink. As for awaiting developments, that was not on.

He walked into the crowded bar. Dusty Dan was there in the
corner, holding court with a couple of tourists. Rory smiled and
Dan raised his glass slightly in acknowledgment. After ordering a
double, Rory turned and had just taken one mouthful when he saw
red shirt and blue jeans drinking at the far end. His leather hat
was on the bar.

His first instinct was to literally tackle him. Belt the

daylights out of him and demand to know where Tania was.
Immediately that came over as a bad move, because he might not
talk. Better to follow him. Rory tried his best to blend into a
centre pole, but when he turned to have another look, red check
shirt was finishing his drink and heading for the door. Rory made
a dash out the nearer door to him. Outside there were a few
people but no red check. Had he been seen? He didn't think so.
Then a dark blue 4x4 utility pulled out from behind a parked semi
trailer, did a 180 degree turn and drove away. Rory's vehicle was
parked in the opposite direction. He ran but by the time he
waited for a slow car to get out of the way and a pedestrian, he
had lost sight of the utility. There were a couple of choices of
direction and he chose one by instinct. Nothing. Doing a wheely
he sped in the other direction but it was no use. Even banging
the steering wheel and swearing loudly didn't help his
frustration. He couldn't save his wife and now he seemed to have
botched up saving someone else.

Back in the hotel bar, Rory ordered another drink and looked
around. When his eye caught Dan, still with his 'friends', he
made a sign and waited. Shortly Dan was standing by his side.

"Nice of you to offer," he said, and ordered a schooner. "You

moved out of here pretty quick. Come to think about it, you look
a little perturbed. I'll order another and we can sit down. Want
another?"

Rory shook his head and seeing a couple of stools vacant, flopped
down. So much for an easy assignment. Presently Dan joined him.

"Certain party been giving you trouble?" Then almost half his
glass went down in one gulp.

"You could say that," replied Rory, "they've got Tania."

Dan's glass was in the act of being drained. It stopped. "Like

how have they got her?'

"Prisoner, or something. The police won't take me seriously. Took

the crap out of me for going out to the mine. Agreed to have a
look in the end. Will have a drink."

Dan put up his hand. "Don't let it get around, but my shout."

They sat there a while as Rory filled the old hand in on the
recent events.

Dan stroked his stubbly face. "This bloke you saw tonight, in the
check shirt. Think he's been in here a few times over the last
fortnight."

"With anyone?"

"Another bloke sometimes. Yes. Coming back to me. Interested in

the skirts. Like a fellow who is waiting time."

Rory had a thought. "Ever notice if he picked up any one?"

"Why?"

"Because if he did pick up a woman, he might have taken her

home."

Dan smiled. "Or more likely, she took him home, like the motel."

Rory's face fell. Dan was right. The chance of quickly finding
his boss took a nose dive.

Dan's finger came up and pointed at Rory's nose. "You give up too
easily young fella."
"That's a backhanded compliment," replied Rory.

"Too much good stuff is bad for the ego. No, what I thought of
was that old check shirt scored the first night I notice him. He
probably was in here before but I noticed him the night Mandy was
hanging around."

"Mandy?"

"Local girl. Supplements her income from the cafe across the
road, so to speak, in here. Some diggers have excess energy, and
money to spare. And she has a kid. So my thinking is that she
wouldn't want to go back home."

Rory perked up. "We need to find her."

"I'd say any comment about excess energy would be in bad taste."

"Very bad taste. Do I go alone or would you introduce me?"

Before he could reply, Rory was already heading towards the door.
Dan finished his drink and followed him. Out on the front steps,
it took only a few seconds for Rory to sight the cafe, by which
time his mentor had joined him. Dan headed not for the front but
down the narrow lane at the side, and knocked on the wire door.

It was opened by a large buxom woman in an equally large floral

apron.

"Oh, hello Dan. Too early for left overs. Want a cuppa?"

"No thanks Clare. Is Mandy about?"

By this time she had noticed Rory, and the smile turned into a
frown. "New sideline is it? Touting for business. Cuppa's off."

"Don't be bloody silly. My friend here, Rory had something stolen

from his dig and just thought Mandy might know where we could
find a certain fellow."

"Likely story, but I believe you." She turned her head and spoke
to some one who had just come into the kitchen. Then without
another word, went back inside. A woman about 30, with died
blonde hair took her place.

"Yes?" It was a cautious voice.

"Looking for some information, Mandy. Seen you around town. Dan's
the name. This is a friend of mine, Rory."
She looked past the old fellow at Rory.

"I'm busy at the moment and I don't want to upset my boss here.
Can you talk to me later? Over at the hotel."

Rory stepped in, before Dan could reply. "Please. One minute of
your time and it is really important. Some one's life could
depend on it.

She took another look, then glancing over her shoulder, stepped
outside the door. "Sixty seconds."

Before anyone could speak, a noise at the end of the passage, and
a figure started making it's way towards them. Rory froze as the
outline of a check shirt was caught in the fading light. Then the
person was level with them and stopped.

"Hi Mandy. Just feeding Jason's dog. 'Scuse me mister." Then the
young teenager pushed past them and disappeared in the gloom.

Mandy coughed. "Well?"

"A few days ago. A man in a check shirt. Leather hat. A nasty
piece even by local standards." Rory didn't waste words.

"Lot's of men in check shirts."

Dan butted in. "Please Mandy. This fella has lost his woman, and
we think she was taken by force. I saw you leave one night with
him."

She didn't show any emotion, just looked at both men. "He was a
bastard. Got back to his place. There was a mate there. He just
couldn't wait. When I said slow down, he hit me. I spat in his
face and walked out. And home."

"You were game," said Rory, "and lucky. He didn't come after
you?"

"No. They just laughed. Saw him a couple of nights later in the
pub but he ignored me. What do you mean he has your girl?"

Just then Clare's voice butted in. "Need you Mandy."

"I have to go."

Rory touched her sleeve. "Please. Where?"

She stood inside and closed the wire door. "Madding's old place."
Then she shut the side door and there was silence.

"I'll show you," said Dan.

They hurried back to Rory's vehicle.

"Not far. Madding lives in way down in Coonamble but rents out his
place. Only around 2 acres or so, about a mile out of town."

At the turn off, Rory could see a light down the lane. He got out.

"You drive back and get the police. I'm going to have a look."

"Not a good idea. She might not be there. Even the wrong blokes."

Already Rory was jogging away into the dark. Dan slid over and as
quietly as possible, turned the car and headed back towards town.

Tania was shivering, although it was not that cold. It was a

mixture of fear and helplessness. She couldn't comprehend all
that was going on. Sitting on the floor in the corner, she
remembered being pushed to the floor by the younger one and
groped and roughly kissed. As he used one hand to loosen his
belt, she struck out with her fist in desperation more than plan,
and connected with his more private parts. There was a yell, and
he stood up, one hand grabbing his stomach and the other giving
her a sideswipe across the face. Then he swore violently and
walked outside. She cried.

After a while she heard the two of them talking in the next room
then a TV was switched on. She sobbed for a while then just sat
there.

________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Rory was soon upon the house. He knew it was the right house
because, even in the dim light, the 4x4 with the two whip aerials
was parked alongside. There was a light in the front window.
Skirting along a row of bushes and some scraggly mulga at the
side he came up to the back of the house. It was in darkness. The
small yard was a mess, strewn with rubbish and bits of old
machinery. Nearby was the outside toilet, leaning to one side and
no door. A long way away, a dog barked.

Rory had no plan. He would try to look in any window possible and
see if Tania was there. He dismissed the idea of a frontal
approach. Knocking on the front door and asking, seemed to have
little merit or sense. He moved behind a rusting corrugated iron
water tank, lying on it's side, to look at the other side of the
house. Instinct made him put his head around it before the rest
of him. Just as well. The glow, however quick, made him jerk
back. Someone was standing at the side of the house, smoking.

His heart racing, and no weapon, he did the first thing that came
into his mind. He me-owed like a cat. No sound. He did it again.
This time, the almost soundless movement of footsteps. Rory had
moved to the end of the tank just around the side, meaning he
couldn't be seen until the corner was reached. That is if the
other person came that way and not anticlockwise.

"Here pussy." The voice was very low and it came from the right
direction.

As the man rounded the corner, with his head down slightly
looking towards the ground, he reeled back and fell over with the
force of powerful over arm punch to the face. In most cases it
should have stunned of knocked out a person, but having his head
down slightly, looking for the cat, lessened the blow. He was
already climbing to his feet and pulling out a pistol from his
back pocket before the pain had registered in Rory's hand.

Joining the tank and the stand it once was on, was still the
timber and the rusty water pipe attached to it for support. It
was just above Rory's head and it caught his eye, outlined dimly
by the rising star light. Without thinking, he jumped up and
grabbing it with both hands, swung his body back and then lunged
out with his feet as best he could. The gun should have been
brought up and fired before the feet made contact. But the body
in front of him was suddenly not at his own level but above him.
This caused a momentary confusion of where to fire. It was
enough. The feet made contact and the pistol went flying. As the
gunman reeled, Rory let go and landing upright had another
attempt at his over arm right hander. The opponent had grown up
in rough circles and moved his head enough to get a smashed ear
instead of a smashed jaw. Seeing Rory's arm fully extended, he
lunged forward with his own punch.

One night a long time ago, in a side alley of Pakanbaru, two

drunk locals set upon Spikey and Rory. As the larger tried to
deliver a straight right to Spikey's jaw, the Britisher
simultaneously grabbed it with one arm and kicked the opponent's
ankle back. The result was an off balance person who never
regained the advantage.

This micro second memory insight was repeated. The gunman came
forward and attempted to bring the other leg with him to keep his
balance. Rory chopped him down behind the neck. The assailant
fell like a stone and didn't move. The pain in Rory's hand was
excruciating but he didn't make a sound. He was listening for
noises from the house, but there was none. Only the TV.

He tied the man's arms and feet all together with his belt and
hoped he wouldn't wake up for a few minutes. Getting his breath
he cast his eyes around and soon spotted the pistol in the dirt.
With this in hand, he crossed to the back door. No sound other
than canned music. Rory eased the handle and the door opened with
a little squeak With pistol in front he waited to the side of the
door until his eyes adjusted, then started to open the inner door
from which light and sound emanated.

Tania was sitting on the floor in the far corner, looking in his
direction but obviously not taking it in. Just at that moment the
door to the lounge room opened, and check shirt walked in. He
obviously had plans as all he was wearing was a check shirt and
his face showed he was eager for action. In the same moment, Tania
became aware of Rory standing there and yelled his name.

It didn't help the situation for Rory but he headed for the
shaking female. Check shirt wasn't slow to dive back through the
door. As Rory bent down to help Tania up, she gave a gasp, her
eyes on the door to the lounge room. Check shirt was standing
there, his ardour cooled somewhat as he focussed on aiming the rifle .

The first shot only missed Rory's head because he leaned down
slightly to grab Tania and push her back. He instinctively swung
the pistol around and fired in the same breath. His shot missed.
The man with the rifle fired again and Rory felt the intense pain
in his left arm as the .22 bullet went through the flesh. He also
felt nauseous start to sweep up from his stomach. Just like the
knife. As the rifle moved slowly and the trigger started to be
squeezed, Rory just fired in the direction of the door. Twice.

There was no sound. No rifle shot. Only Tania crying and then the
sound of a rifle and body hitting the timber floor.

When the police came about five minutes later and broke in, they
found Rory and Tania sitting on the floor, blood still running
from the bandaged wound. There was some bile on his shirt. She
was supporting him, her arm around his shoulder. In the doorway
was a dead man, without any pants. What made him dead was a
bullet through the heart.

Rory mentioned the other man tied up outside, but the police
returned empty handed. He had gone. When the ambulance arrived
and Rory and Tania were on the front veranda, Dusty Dan appeared
from the scrub opposite the house.

"Was scouting around after the police arrived and you was all
right. No sign of the other bloke but some noises from an old
shaft. Sound like moaning."

It was the sergeant that spoke. "I'll get a light then show me.
Just might be the mythical man. Just might be an animal trapped."

Tania and Rory were whisked away to the small hospital. The
police rounded up the local doctor as the resident was a patient,
the result of a fall off a ladder. Tania was told to rest. Rory
was lucky. The bullet had missed the bone. He should go to
Walgett for a check up in the bigger hospital, but as long as it
was tomorrow, it should be not detrimental to his health.
________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

That morning as they were leaving the hospital, Dan was waiting
at the entrance.

"Thought you should know that noise in the shaft was only a rat."

Rory sighed. "Pity. It would have been nice to get the bastard
and make it more convincing for the police."

Dan's eyes twinkled. "The rat was a two legged one. Fell into the
shaft in the dark and broke his leg. Still had the belt around
his wrists. Police are flying him to Grafton. Sergeant says he
will live to stand trial. Don't know any more but I'd say London
to a brick on that thems the ones that knocked off Bedford and
probably Lewis."

"Thanks, Dan," said Rory, "you've been a great help."

Tania planted a big kiss on Dan's face. Dan blushed.

"Just let me know when you're needing rescued again. I'll be in

the pub."

"What about me?" said Rory.

She smiled. "About evens the ledger." Then she gave him a peck on
the cheek. "Need a new blade."

Rory felt a little dejected but said nothing. This never happened
to James bond. They stopped at the police station and an hour
later had given enough statements to fill a newspaper. However
this time the police were much more polite and even thanked them.
It looked like Bedford was killed by one of them but that had yet
to be proved. The reason for the murder and the attack at the
mine were still not clear, but 'most likely opals were being
milked and some one was double crossed'. Rory was sure of it.

One thing that got overlooked in the statements was the Aladdin's
Cave. Somehow it just became an air shaft to the top. No colour.
They went back and picked up his gear from the motel then to
fetch Tania's luggage.

"I need to speak to Dad," she said. "He may want to speak to you,
so you'd better be with me. Means I can keep an eye on you in
case you want to feint or start boozing."
"Whatever madam desires."

"Knock it off. We are not that much closer to finding out what
has happened."

He stood with his back to the window whilst she made her call to
Darius. He would be in Australia tomorrow and fly up to Walgett
straight away. There was some other stuff Rory didn't understand.

"Now what?" he said when she hung up.

"We drive, that's I drive, to Walgett. Shortly."

Then without preamble, she took the few steps to him and kissed
him long and hard on the lips. He was a little taken back.

"You disappoint me," she said, pulling back her face but not her
body.

He took her shoulders and this time she knew she wasn't being
disappointed. Tania was in half mind here. Part of her just
wanted to say thank you for saving her. The other part was pure
attraction. Attraction was quickly becoming dominant and she was
lost in the sensual and physical moment. No other man in past
memory seem to capture and arouse her. It was fate of some kind.

For Rory, after his initial shock, he saw fate also. But a new
direction opening up. Not just a woman but a single minded and
powerful one. Also a damn beautiful one. There should be no
holding back here because of the past relationship, which was
dictated by her. If she found an equally forceful person, it
could be the start of a long relationship.

They sank on to the bed and she yielded to his touch. He warmed
to hers and the morning gathered momentum. It was warm. She was
eager not to lose this moment, either was he.

Later as they lay back and indulged in that idle talk of two who
had been there and now felt some bond, Rory wondered how her old
man would take it. Two ends of the spectrum. Behind her mask of
closeness, Tania was wondering the same thing.

It was a long drive to Walgett. Rory played it cool and didn't

try to capitalise on the situation. No unnecessary touching or
talking of plans together for the next trillion years. Just,
let's see what happens.

While Rory was at the hospital, Tania talked to the local police
but got little out of them. Probably because they had little more
to go on. She then went and had her hair done. When the hospital
reluctantly agreed to let him go, and they had the necessary
police approval, he caught a taxi to the Commercial Hotel and waited
in the beer garden as arranged.

When Tania did walk in he was taken back, for the second time in
a few hours. She was obviously catching a lot of attention and he
felt an inner glow. 'Pity Darius was coming tomorrow' he thought.

"You look beautiful," he said. No accentuation of words, just a

plain simple fact. She smiled and felt good inside herself as
well. They had a couple of drinks and walked hand in hand along
the Barwon River bank. The slowly setting sun had transformed the
western sky into a blaze of orange and yellow, that only nature
could create. Beside an old man red gum, they kissed. He wanted
to take her there, but knew that was not the right move. Sitting
on the sandy bank, he talked about his life. Much never before
said, even to himself. Helen's passing had been too sudden, too
tragic and he had kept it bottled up.

She listened and understood. There were touches of her life but
she held back sometimes. Not because of what she had done, but
what could be done. Where was this heading? She put it out of her
mind and hoped to go with the flow, but could she?

The Orion Restaurant was like an oasis in the north west. The
place had charm and good food. They walked back to the hotel
where they were staying the night. Rory had booked two rooms out
of good manners. As they passed the lounge, he just happened to
glance in and got a start when he saw a woman sitting there,
facing him, that he knew. She was with a man, slightly older and
they were talking so she didn't see him. It was the lady from the
restaurant back at the Ridge. He walked up the stairs to the
first floor. 'Penny'. The name came to him.

Time to be forceful yet diplomatic. He opened the door and

followed Tania inside. Taking both her hand in his, he leaned
forward and kissed her. She did not turn away. Rory never saw the
other room that night, only next morning when he needed his
shaving gear.

Darius wasn't due until about three in the afternoon, so they

strung the morning out on the town's tourist attractions and then
just walking along the river. However when he suggested they go
back to the hotel, she declined. "I need time to adjust," was the
reply. The reality was she wasn't sure about the whole thing. The
long term future. Back at the dining room for lunch, she had a
change of heart, and suggested desert upstairs. Rory was a little
confused, but only for a second or two. This time she was the
aggressor and he wondered how much of a good thing he could take.
His arm was aching like buggery and he had little energy left. He
fell asleep.

A gentle shaking, and her eyes looking into his.

"Time to get up and put some pants on. Dad will be here soon."

He tried to raise up his head to kiss her, but she was already
gone. A shower helped clear his head and aching body, but not his
mind. They went downstairs and drove out to the airstrip. It was
hot and the wispy clouds foretold a change.

The small plane landed just before three and the first passenger
out was Montgomery Darius. He gave a half wave and came over,
giving his daughter a hug and kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"

"Fine dad. Rough time but could have been worse. Thanks to Rory
for that."

He turned and stuck out his hand. "Can't thank you enough. Should
help your career."

"I didn't do it for my career, Mr. Darius."

Tania interrupted before either could men could follow up on the

remark.

"You must need a drink, Dad," and grabbing her father's bag,
headed for the car.

"I need to use the loo first," said Darius, "you wait in the
car." Whilst Darius headed inside the small terminal building,
Tania walked side by side with Rory and they sat in the front
seat of the vehicle.

"Sorry about the remark, but it was the truth," said Rory.

She turned to him and smiled. "Thanks. I know. Dad can be a bit,
you know, a bit....."

"A bit like dad," replied Rory for her. She nodded then leaned
over and gave him a gentle squeeze on his leg.
He managed to get a hand only as far as her knee before Darius
appeared, and he had to think pure thoughts once again. Confused
pure thoughts.

Little was said in the vehicle, and they settled into a back
corner of the lounge and ordered drinks. Tania gave a reasonable
account of the events since she and Rory came to the area, and
Darius would sometimes confirm this with Rory or ask for some
detail. Despite the man at the top approach, he was upset at his
daughter's brush with danger, and rightly so. Any parent would.
Rory got another thankyou sometime during the second round. Then
it was Darius's turn to talk.

"Might have a lead."

Tania and Rory looked momentarily frozen then continued drinking,

waiting.

"A lot of opals, and I mean good quality stuff, has been
surfacing in the States recently. All we could find out was that
a good source, if somewhat dicey, was available in Australia.
However there's been a supply problem versus the money advanced,
and the crowd over there aren't too happy. Nothing else, but
gossip in the industry never the less."

"There has to be more, somehow," said Rory, " I mean why did they
stop and where did they end up?"

Darius looked at him. "Precisely."

Tania ordered another round of drinks. There was a beep beep noise
as the mobile phone that Darius had in his jacket, started ringing.
Rory and Tania looked into space and at each other until the
short conversation was finished.

"That was Cord in Sydney," said Darius, looking at his daughter.

"It appears large quantities of good stone is passing through a
dealer in Sydney."

Tania raised her eyebrows. "Nothing more?"

"Patience my dear," he replied, "I expect information and

answers."

'That would be true,' thought Rory.

"A favour called up," continued Darius. "It seems the seller is a
middle man of some sort. No real knowledge of opals. Does the
name Hopkins mean any thing? Maurie Hopkins." He looked hopefully
at both his captive audience.

Tania shook her head.

Rory's mind was ticking over. He knew that name but couldn't
place it.

"You look as though something has clicked?"

Rory looked at Darius and put up his hands in resignation. "I've

seen or heard the name, that's all. Years ago." He took a few
more gulps.

"Time to go to my room and rest up. Been a very long three days.
Where are you staying Mason?"

Time to be forthright. "Here. Room two doors down from Tania's."

Darius just nodded his head and stood up. "Dinner at seven.
You'll join us, naturally." Then he turned and walked away.

"And you, Miss Darius?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Keep it locked up. Play time is
over for now." Then she walked out, her hips saying things he
couldn't figure.

Rory sat for a while then felt someone at his side. He looked up
and there was Penny from the restaurant. He stood up.

"Sorry to interrupt you," she said, taking a seat at the same

time. "I waited until you were alone then tried to decide if I
should come over."

"I'm glad you did. Drink?"

She shook her head. "Not until I've eaten something." She noticed
his arm bulged under his sleeve, and it's odd movement. "I didn't
notice your arm before."

Then she blushed. "Sorry. I was being inquisitive."

"Not a problem. Had a nasty accident back at Lightning Ridge, but

it's on the mend."
"Oh. Sorry to hear that." Then she changed the subject. "Decided
to head for the coast. Close anyway. Heard of Binna Burra up in
Queensland?"

Rory couldn't say he had. "Not really."

She talked on. She wanted just to keep moving and some peace and
quiet. The times with her husband were painful.

Rory said he would have liked to dine with her but he was
committed. Inwardly he could have done without dinner surrounded
by the Darius clan, even Tania. She was an enigma. Penny was just
natural. No pretence.

"Rory Mason, and a contact phone in Sydney." He scribbled down Em

and Darin's number. Then he remembered he might have given it to
her before. Didn't matter.

"Penny Mocherie. No number to give you. No house." Her eyes

clouded for a moment then brightened again. "Must away. At this
rate, we'll meet again." She stuck out her hand. It was soft.
Warm.

In the shower, Rory remembered where he had come across the name.

Dinner was pleasant. Pleasant as dinner could be with the big

boss taking control. Rory once managed to run his boot up Tania's
lower leg but all he got was nothing.

"Memory come good yet?" Darius was not one to be subtle.

"Thought we should enjoy the food first." Then he saw the scowl
in Tania's eye. 'Tough' he thought. "Did some work some years
back at down at the Cobar and Peak Hill mines. I remember it was
land and property sales. Local guy had his photo on all his ads in the
paper and posters and so on. Maurie Hopkins Real Estate. Still could
be no connection, but worth a try."

Darius smiled. "Where was he based? Remember?"

"Not really. I think he had a couple of places then. Yes,

Small town of Gilgandra was one. And, yes, Coonamble."

Tania raised her glass to Rory. "Good man."

Rory saw her clearly then in that statement. After dinner they
talked about mining and places they had been and then Darius went
up to bed. Tania stretched over and took Rory's hands.
"Dad's tired. He'll be asleep now."

Rory didn't say anything.

"The view from my window isn't great but then who'd be looking."

He was tempted to take her up, just for the sex, but there were
limits.

"I feel uncomfortable with your old man around, and I am tired
myself," he lied. "Maybe we let this time go."

She withdrew her hands and there was no smile left. An anger
started to burn behind those eyes, then it vanished. "See you
later."

He inwardly kicked himself when she had gone. He sat for a while
then went up to his room, pausing slightly at her door, then
going on. She was lying on the bed reading, when he entered his
room. She was also not wearing any clothes. Because the side lamp
was on, he hadn't put on the overhead light.

Rory was a little angry. "I thought this was over."

She was enticing. " I was hoping it wouldn't be but maybe you're
right. It just would not work when I think about it."

"I felt that tonight. Mind you it might have."

She slipped under the sheet. "I like you," she said, "like you a
lot. Not at first. You were a hired man and you were too
independent. But you are different to others."

"Others?"

"I'm not exactly a youngster. I would like to talk."

Rory came over to the bed and switched off the lamp. "Later."

_______________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The next morning Rory came down to find Darius having already
eating. There was no sign of Tania.

"Morning Mr. Darius."

The older fellow looked up, fork still in hand. "Gooday. We're
off to the mine today. Eat up, you probably need to keep up your
strength."

Rory blushed then remembered his arm. "My arm. Yes."

Darius wiped his mouth. "It wasn't your arm I was thinking about.
You are sleeping with my daughter?"

This time however, Rory didn't blush, just a gentle freeze. Then
he sat down. "Yes." He didn't add any more, waiting for the
eruption. There was none.

"I can read her like a book. Late for breakfast only confirms it.
What do you think the future holds for you two?"

Rory poured a coffee and took a sip. "No future. We both see that
and it's finished. We enjoyed the time though." Rory was
mystified a little. 'Even as a man, I can't believe I can sit
here and tell a bloke I slept with his daughter.'

"Good," said Darius, "best find out now and no one gets hurt
later. It is finished. I'm sure you understand me."

Rory looked at him and kept drinking. Daddy had spoken.

Tania joined them a short time later. She was quite relaxed with
Rory.

"Do we front Hopkins?" It was Tania who brought up the subject.

"No," replied her father, "there seems no point. If it is the

same man, he'd only play innocent and we'd be no further along
the trail. Best to try and find if there is a connection with him
in Lightning Ridge somehow."

Rory made a polite cough. "I'm not very up in the subtleties of

this business, but if it is our Hopkins, wouldn't he just buy or
move stones direct from Bedford, who gets them direct from your
mine venture?"

"Maybe. But when you deal with people, like I do, a shrewd man
would put another buffer between him and his source. Especially
with the values concerned."

"Something Adrian may not have done." It was Tania who spoke.

Darius nodded. "Time to go. By the way Mason, got a contact at

the Ridge who knows what's going on?"
Rory looked blank, then gave a slight laugh. "I'm not exactly a
local, unless getting shot qualifies me."

"I'm well aware of your status," snapped Darius.

"However we can try Dusty Dan. He seems to be the eyes and ears
around there."

Darius stood up. "Know where to find him I hope."

"Shouldn't be hard," replied Rory and helped Tania up out of her

chair. He didn't know why he did it. More of something to counter
Darius's attitude. Make him wonder if he had got the message. As
for that status, it was over, but very amicably. Last night was
great and they both said so. Both agreed that their paths were
different and that was it. It only made for a very stimulating
and long parting.

The trip to the opal capital was uneventful. No kangaroos to have

near misses with, and hardly any traffic. Darius said little.
Tania put on the radio and asked her father about the United
States business. Rory looked at the passing trees and mulga
scrub. There were lots of startled galahs and he mused that
wouldn't it be nice to be a bird and just fly. Then one nearly
hit the front, just missing by a metre or so, and he decided
maybe not.

"That was close. Silly bird." Tania's comment was unanswered, and
she drove on.

In town the traffic was already starting for the day, not that
there was a ever a lot. Easter was the time to avoid town. The
tourists came in their thousands. Cars everywhere. A lot of
mediocre opals being sold for a lot of not so mediocre prices.

Darius wanted to talk to the police, so Rory and Tania dropped

him off and them went to look for Dan. They tried the hotel but
it was shut. Too early.

"What now," she said.

"I don't know. Maybe he lives somewhere."

She looked over her sunglasses at him. "That took a lot of brain
power." Then she looked away and back again. "Look. I'm sorry for
that. No animosity. It just wouldn't have worked. But I like you
and believe me, you were great."
Before he could answer, she burst out. "Bugger it Rory. Why
didn't it work? You have a great looking body and your good in bed.
And we got on together, Why?" She was blushing.

"There's more to getting on well and sleeping together for us.

For anyone I suppose. It's either there or not. You just know
it."

He put a hand on her arm. "I thought it was there. But there were
other things. Our worlds. They will never be brushed aside."

They sat not saying much, just looking out the car window at a
street of buildings and people.

"We can still be friends," said Rory, and he meant it. The anger
had passed a long while back. "Besides. What you just said about
me equally applies to you."

"Maybe some time....."

"Maybe."

Just then Rory sat up straight and pointed. "Talk about the
mountain coming to us. There's Dusty Dan just getting out of that
truck in front of the newsagent."

They jumped out and waited near the store entrance. It seemed
ages but he finally emerged. A great big smile erupted on his
face.

"Well, well. Didn't expect you back so soon. Must have opal fever
or something. How's the arm?"

"It's fine. Sore as hell and I cant' bend it, but I'll live to
see another day."
"It better. How else can I get my thrills around here."

Tania butted in. "Can I join this conversation?"

Dan looked at her and gave a slight bow. "Certainly. What brings
you two back. Still looking for Bedford's killer?"

Rory nodded. "We're looking for some one and just hope you might
have the answer."

"Me? Fire away, but let's get comfortable. You don't mind sitting
in my limousine I trust?"

They got in. 'What a mess' thought Rory. It hadn't been cleaned
since the day he bought it.

"Who?"

"Oh yes," said Rory, "Do you know a Maurie Hopkins?"

Dan just looked out of the window. "Name's familiar but can't
place him."

"Real estate. Maybe down south a bit, say Coonamble."

Dan laughed. "Buying a house you two? No, suppose not. Now that
you mention it I have seen his face. In the paper."

Tania's lip fell. "You don't know him?"

"Sorry. Never seen him around here. However," he said with a

flourish, "not to say he doesn't come around."

The town was starting to come alive with tourists, and the day
was promising to be a warm one. Opals were certainly a draw card
and there were always people looking for that bargain. Certainly
this was the place for bargains. If you knew what you were
buying. Often fools were parted from their money, but for the
most part it was fair trading. Whilst the Ridge was the Mecca for
the tourist and the home of Black Opal, good stone could be found
also out at White Cliffs. Only it was further out and not so
pleasant and easy to get to. It had had it's day but maybe
someone would find that elusive vein, that glitter of colour
running through the rock, as they spent half their life gouging
and scraping and hoping.

Many came from the far away cities to try to make that fortune. The
mullock hills looked like giant ant hills, all alive with people
noodling. Looking for that trace or that overlooked stone in the
tailings. Sometimes a shower of rain might pass and it would be
like a festive holiday. For the rain could show up colour that
wouldn't otherwise be found. The town needed Easter and it
capitalised on it. Anything that could turn a dollar, was.

"Like art?," said Dan.

"Not my style," replied Rory, "my art is in the real thing. Out
there. A hill at dusk. The sound of birds. Why?"

"Thought whilst you're here you might find something. Good friend
of mine has the Bird of Paradise Art Gallery, down the way."

Tania's eyes lit up. "If I mention you're name, I'd expect a
discount, or to be thrown out?"

Dan's face showed mock pain. "Miss."

"Just kidding. Actually I do like the odd painting or whatever.

When we finish what we can do here, I'll pay it a visit. Well, I
guess we better let you get on with your day...."

"Actually," said Dan, "if you have ten minutes I could collect a
couple of vegetables."

"I don't think so," said Tania.

"Trust me. You'd be surprised at the veges you might find."

Rory had a sixth sense about the way he said it. "May as well.
Your father could be a while."

Tania shrugged her shoulders and looked straight ahead. Dan

pointed down the road and she hit the accelerator and they shot
off. She was a little peeked at being told what to do. Just on
the outskirts of town they turned into a house that had seen
better days. An old truck was parked at the front door. Dan
beckoned them to follow and they walked around the back. In a
land of saltbush and gravel and mulga the last thing they
expected was a market garden. Not large but green and glowing. An
old man stood up, a trowel in one hand, and spinach in the other.
A nod when he saw Dan.

"This is Sam," said Dan. "Used to call him Vege Sam but people
confused him with Bill, so it's Sam."

This went over Rory and Tania's head but they didn't ask.

"Rory and Miss Tania, Sam. The folks that were in that shooting
business."

"Yep. Heard it on the wireless." The voice was squeaky. "Lucky to

be here, so they say. The world's full of rotters. You here to
buy something or take photos?"

Before they could reply, Dan cut in. "Dare say they could do with
something but first you might help them."

The old man's eyes went up a second, then he started walking

towards a shed. They followed.

"You get around town a lot. Ever see Maurie Hopkins up here. That
real estate bloke who has his face on all his ads in the paper."
Dan seemed to be in charge.

Sam threw down his trowel and placed the spinach on a bench. "Oh
him. Yes, he's been up here a bit recently, that I seen."

Tania got in. "Who with?"

"Let me think." He looked at Dan who nodded imperceptibly. "Once

he was just leaving the Bowling Club when I went to deliver some
vegies. Was alone but three or four were inside. Know 'em all.
Locals. The other time he was just leaving again when I was
getting there."

"Same place?", asked Rory.

"No. Want some caulies?"

This digression inwardly infuriated Tania. For Rory, life in

South East Asia had taught him patience. There would be a price
for information, even if it was only a cauliflower.

"Yes," she half yelled, " I'll take six if I need to."

Sam would keep her to it. "Out at Merrel Mullent's place. They
run sheep outside town."

"Why would he be seeing her?," asked Tania.

Sam picked up a small bunch of carrots. "These go well in a stew.
Wasn't her he was seeing. Her husband was one of those in the
Bowling Club, now I think of it. See, even I can work things
out."

They thanked him and got back in the car. The vegetables went
onto the back seat. Dan was thinking he hadn't lost on this visit
either.

"I can take you," said Dan.

Tania had anticipated him. "No thanks Dan. You've been a big help
but this we can do alone. Just show us the way out. Would you
like some vegetables?"

"That's very kind Miss."

_______________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER NINETEEN

Merrel was trimming some jasmine that had gone a little out of
control. She did it automatically for her heart was not in it.
The death of Adrian was not easy to shake. It was still her
secret, that night. Some things were best left alone, but not
forgotten.

Francis had told her about Adrian and she felt a little guilty.
Maybe later. Maurie Hopkins had not contacted them and they
decided it was best not to do the same.

She put down the cutters and gathered up the discarded flowers
and branches. Sheep were bleating and the dog was barking and she
thought of that endless wheel of life. Dropping the rubbish at
the end of the garden, she headed for the veranda and a drink.
As she mounted the few steps, she stopped with a start. 'The dog
is barking. Why?' The thought went through her mind and she
headed around the side of the house to the drive. Already the
feint sound of a car's motor had become apparent. "Maybe it's
Fran," she said aloud.

She didn't recognise the car nor the couple who were getting out.
The steps gave a little height and stature to her and she waited.

"Mrs. Mullent?" It was Tania who now was using her talents. "Tania
Darius," and stuck out her hand. Merrel took it slowly, the name
not instantly known but she felt she should.
"Oh. This is Rory Mason, my business assistant," and she half
turned to Rory and smiled. Rory offered his hand. The grip he
felt was gentle but somewhat, the word escaped him. Perhaps
afraid ?

Then Merrel Mullent put the names together from the local news
and suddenly was afraid. "What can I do for you. Come up on to
the veranda."

As discussed earlier, Tania suggested that Rory might like to

wander over and check out the windmill, with Merrel's permission,
whilst she talked women like. Merrel nodded, as in a dream, and
Rory wandered off to look at windmills and generally keep out of
the way.

The two women sat on the veranda in an old fashioned swinging

seat that had been Merrel's mum's. Merrel was at a loss what to
say fearing now all would just come out.

"I hear you were very lucky not to be... not to be."

Tania smiled. "Yes. It could have been pretty horrible, but it

wasn't. Thanks to that man out there."

"Call me Merrel."

Tania squeezed her hand. "We need to talk. Are we alone?"

"Yes. Francis is in town doing some banking, I think. Want a

cuppa?"

"That would be nice. I'll help."

They went inside and down a long hall to the kitchen. Merrel
filled the jug and after switching it on, turned to Tania.

"You've come about Adrian, haven't you?'

Now Tania was thinking how not to loose the moment. "Yes, in a
way. He did work for me. I know about your husband and his deal
with Adrian."

Merrel looked down at the sink.

"And about Maurie Hopkins."

This last statement brought a reaction. Merrel looked up and went

and sat at the kitchen table. Then she began to cry. Tania sat
next to her and took her hand in hers.
"It's OK. I'd like you to tell me in your own words the story. So
I haven't missed anything." In essence, Tania was in the dark
about a lot of things, and was hoping this approach would help
solve what was happening.

So Merrel spoke. She supported her husband and knew he wasn't

doing anything really bad, just a little business transaction. It
wasn't right and it was with someone else's opals. She wished she
had never heard of Adrian Bedford, then retracted that part.

"I knew he was a con man and probably trouble. But he made it so
simple. He was nice to talk to. Perhaps time has taken it's toll
on Francis and I, and Adrian was a new breath."

Tania poured some more tea. "Did he ever come just to see you?"
It was more a woman to woman question, than a necessary part of
the happenings.

"I think he did. We talked a lot. He was a worldly man." She

paused to take a sip. "Francis doesn't know this, but we made
love the last night I saw him. I don't regret it but I wouldn't
have gone on. Too many years with Francis to throw that away. You
might say it was foolish. In a way it was. Sometimes we need to
break out. Funny I never thought I would, not that way. He might
be gruff but he's still the same hansom man I married."

Tania was momentarily confused by this last remark, but then

realised it was he husband she was referring to.

"That's your secret, Merrel. Treasure it. I thought I found

something I was looking for, outside, but it never would have
worked. I would not have let it. That's my trouble."

Merrel stood up. "What now? Do we go to the police or something?"

"Heavens no. We have no need to pursue this part. Adrian was the
thief and how he passed on the opals is not our business. I don't
think the police would be involved. Adrian was just a friend if
they asked. Never brought opals here."

Darius had called his daughter as they were on their way out to
the Mullent's place. The police had told him, the other
accomplice had made a statement, blaming everything on his
friend, red check shirt as usual. However the gist was that
Bedford was lifting some stones from the mine and sending them
direct to the buying syndicate in the United States. However not
nearly enough stones for the money advanced, so they had been
sent to sort Bedford out and get their money back. 'Naturally'
the accomplice wasn't around when Bedford was shot, but the
police could never prove he was. Still he was an accomplice and
they'd find a way.

Tania told Merrel about Bedford's other deal, for it was the one
that had put the nail in his coffin, so to speak. He stopped
supplying to the USA, altogether. When Hopkins had stopped
suppling to the local syndicate, in fright after Bedford's death,
they just shrugged their shoulders as the loss of a good source
and carried on business. After all, nothing was illegal. There
was no reason for the police to follow this up.

The two ladies went out on to the verandah, and Rory stood up,
from his seat on the bottom step. Tania turned and gave Merrel a
light kiss.

"Good bye Merrel. Don't Worry."

"What about my husband? What should I tell him?"

Tania thought for a moment. "About what happened, the truth.

About that night, nothing."

Rory came up the steps and shook her hand. "Thanks for your
help." Actually he didn't know what had transpired, but the look
on Tania's face seemed to indicate good things.

"Sorry we didn't get to talk. I hope the leg, I mean the arm gets
better."

He nodded and they both got into the car. As they drove out of
the front yard, past the large pepper tree, he looked back.
Merrel Mullent was standing on the top step looking out. Not at
the receding car but into the distance. He said nothing to Tania.

At the front gate, as he got back in, she turned and gave a big
smile. "I'm glad her other half wasn't around. Sometimes it's
easier for women to talk, alone."

"Were you successful?"

"I think so," she replied. "Adrian seems to have had a second
scheme going, that must have been diverting opals from the first
one. Mullent passed them on to that Hopkins fellow who sold them
to a Sydney buyer. The deal was legit but they were my stones."

They were almost back in town.

"She knew then?"

"She wasn't really a party. Just wouldn't oppose her husband, so
I guess she ignored it. Let's say Adrian had an influence on
her."

Rory raised his eyebrows but said nothing. They met Darius in the
main lounge of the hotel. He seemed smug and happy.

"Order a drink and tell me what you two have accomplished."

Rory again noted that it was a command. A command to have had

succeeded. He didn't really care but was glad they had achieved a
success. Tania filled in her father on the details painting
Merrel Mullent as an innocent bystander, caught up in something
she could not get out of.

To Rory's surprise and deep down feeling of the affair, Darius

was inclined to forget Mullent and Hopkins. There was little
proof that would stand up in court that they knew the opals were
stolen. The big fish was now beyond society's reach. The matter
was finished. A tax write off.

Rory couldn't help feel unsettled in that statement. Two men dead
and it was just a tax write off!

Darius told them of his meeting with the Sydney detectives. As

far as they were concerned, the matter was closed. Bedford stole
opals from Darius's mine and cheated on his buyer as well. They
sent a couple of hit men to sort him out. Thanks to Rory, one was
dead and the other, a man named Rawson, in custody. He would go
down for Tania's abduction and as an accomplice to Bedford's
murder.

The police were not aware, at present, about Bedford's other

scheme, so without further investigation, they probably wouldn't.
Darius was sure they would have mentioned it. Rawson was to be
held in Sydney until the trial. And that was that.

"Want to run the two mines? Free hand. Hire and fire." It was
Darius who asked.

Rory wondered earlier if this was on the cards. He liked the

Ridge and the opal scene, but it couldn't be a long term option.

He drained his glass. "Short term. Hire the men and a manager.
Get both places working. Then I move on."

Tania looked at Darius. He looked at her then again at Rory.

"Won't push it. How long do you need to get things up to speed?"
Rory didn't even think about it. He had done so earlier. "Three
weeks max. Maybe even two."

"Fine."

Just like that. No banter.

"When you finish up, come to see me. Something you might be
interested in."

Rory nodded and ordered again. That night they had dinner and
Darius announced that he and Tania were driving back to Walgett
early in the morning to get a plane. Rory was given access to
some funds and Darius shook his hand.

"Thanks for what you did. For my daughter," then turned and left.

He looked at Tania. "Goodbye or watch the moon rise from a

mullock heap?"

She stood up. "Let's both have memories of past good times.
Anything more would only be spoilt. If you like, you can walk me
to my door."

She unlocked her door and turned to face him. "Thanks again, and
best of luck in getting the mines up and away." She leaned
forward and gave him a firm kiss on the mouth then drew back.

Rory's eyes were glued to hers and she did not avoid his stare.
Then he took her shoulders and drew her close. The kiss was long
and neither really wanted to break it off. But the die was cast.

They straightened up and with a smile she stepped inside and

closed the door. Rory stood for a few seconds and then left.

_______________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER TWENTY

Both the 'Betty Rose' and 'Dig 44" were up and running in under
three weeks. The latter having a live in manager to keep the
curious away from the rich seam.

Then Rory said good bye and rang Sydney to say he was finished.
Darius was polite and thankful and reminded him to call in as
soon as he could. Rory caught a bus to the Gold Coast resort area on
the coast and took up some sun and sights. He needed time to think
his next move. A little rest and civilisation helped. He avoided the
implied invites from numerous women, and ignored the one from a
male tourist in one of the shopping arcades.

After four days he felt rejuvenated. Sitting in a Burger King

takeaway, he made the decision to go back north. Maybe not to
Mt. Isa but perhaps the Kimberley’s right up in the far wet of
Australia. As he wrapped up his rubbish into a ball for the bin, he saw
her through the window. Penny.

He dived outside, almost colliding with a woman and baby coming

in, then lost sight of her. Heart racing he looked in all
directions and picked her up again, getting into the passenger
side of one of the parked cars. He moved quickly, yelling as he
got near.

She turned her head, and got out again. "Oh. Hello. We seem to
meet in all sorts of places."

Rory wasn't really sure what he should be doing. He checked

himself from just kissing her, even if it was just a hello kiss
for a casual friend. "Gooday. Lucky I saw you. How was Binna
Burra?"

"Pretty. Rory, this is Peter," and pointed her hand to the driver
who unbuckled his seat belt and got out.

Rory hadn't thought about there being another person, even though
she was entering the passenger side. A slight shock went through
his body and he suddenly felt deflated. He nodded his head.
"Gooday."

Peter said hello and waited for Penny to fill in the obvious
detail.

"I was just eating inside and saw you. How's things?" Rory wasn't
sure what he should do. Then he thought Peter might just be
family or something.

"I'm coping. Peter..... Peter was at Binna Burra too. We have....

um, we are going up the coast to Noosa Heads." She was a little
embarrassed

Rory decided to graciously retire. "Nice. Nice place. I hope you

and Peter enjoy it. I must be going. I'm meeting someone," he
lied.
"Not the lady I met in Lightning Ridge?"

"No. Not her. Different levels. But the Gold Coast is showing
promise. Must go." He held out his hand and she shook it. He
remembered the same soft feeling. Then grinning at her friend, he
hurried off. Anywhere out of sight. 'Life sucks' he said out
aloud, when he rounded a corner. He still had his rubbish in his
left hand. He aimed it at a window and chucked it hard. It
bounced onto the ground and he left it where it lay.

Next morning, with a mother of a hangover, he found a place that

had a reasonable breakfast and with lots of coffee aboard,
decided to quit the Mecca of so many and see if Darius could send
him to the ends of the earth. Maybe the moon.

He had to wait a few hours for a seat but finally his flight to
Sydney left the local Coolangatta airport and he settled back, trying to
sleep. In Sydney he rang Em. Darin answered.

"About bloody time you came out of the woodwork. Come up and have
dinner. I have to go to a presentation afterwards but Em and the
kids are here. Where are you staying?"

"Well....."

"Forget it. Stay here." Darin wasn't backward or slow.

The taxi dropped Rory off and within a few minutes he felt as
though he hadn't been ever away. The kids were all over him. Em
was her exuberant self and her kiss so wonderful. He wished times
were different. Darin plied him with beers and they talked and
ate. He had to inspect the kids bedrooms and look at their worlds
and play with little cars and lose at video games. He missed
this. Would he ever have it again?

When the kids had gone off to their rooms to play, they sat down.

"Now tell me," said Em, "how many broken hearts have you left
behind this time? We heard on TV about the drama and wonderful
things you did. She still in the picture?"

"Only as a memory. A happy one at that. Nice body and great in

bed, but not for me."

Em didn't blush, but took it like listening to the TV. "Oh well.
Better to have loved than not at all. Sorry. Helen excepted. One
day, you never know. Besides, no fun on your own....."

"Em," cut in Darin, "I know what you were going to say. Leave it
for your ladies lunches. Look, he's embarrassed now."

"When I'm embarrassed you'll know, " Rory managed to chip in.

"Oh dear," said Darin, "let's change the subject before it's me
who gets embarrassed? Em threw her hands up and laughed. "OK,
but don't you change a bit, Rory Mason."

After clearing up, Darin took his leave after showing Rory the
guest room upstairs. Rory and Em talked and drank a little.
Sometimes he couldn't tell if she was just open and direct or
just plain flirting. Part of him wanted her but he knew that was
not only silly but fatal. She and Darin were the closest he had
to family and friends and nothing was going to ruin that status.

"Darin's my world, you know," she said during a reflective break

in the conversation. "I treasure that and would never jeopardise
it. So I'll never get to find out what you are like in bed. But
can I have a photo for those nights when Darin is away, full
frontal naturally." Then she burst out laughing.

Rory's face was red and he didn't know what to say.

"You should see your face, Mr.Mason. I wasn't serious."

"About the photo or the other?"

"Now, now. Both desirable but not worth the price. Coffee?"

Afterwards, Em suggested a video, whilst waiting for Darin. "A

comedy is what you need. There's more to life than native women,
you know."

Next morning, with the children off to school and Darin's

invitation to stay on, Rory spruced himself up and headed for the
bus. As he sat at a window and watched humanity and progress
flash by, he reflected on his last week. He was glad last night
had gone the way it went. Bad luck about Penny. She didn't waste
much time, he thought, then realised he was being selfish. To
her, it was long enough. Perhaps.

He arrived at the top floor. Slender legs and well built was
still there. She smiled with the same cheesy grin and showed him
in about ten minutes later. Darius was standing at the big
window, looking out at the harbour with the smell of a recent
cuban lingering in the air.

"Morning Mason. Keeping well?"

Rory managed a "Yes" before Darius went on. He sat down without
any invite. Darius moved some papers and sat down.

"Heard from that new manager yesterday. Seems all is under

control. You did well."

"Thanks."

There was a pause as the older man looked at him for a minute.

"Tania..., and I, thought a little working holiday would be in

order. I assume you have nothing else planned?"

Rory shrugged his shoulders. He would accept any thing that got
him away. "A sort of spade and swimmers outfit." A bit brash, but
then he wasn't exactly an outsider and he didn't have a lot to
loose.

Darius smiled. "You won't change. Probably a good thing. Anyway,

ever been to America?"

The younger fellow shook his head.

"Well, Oceanic has a half share in a mining venture on the west

coast."

Rory couldn't help smiling. Darius had a finger in everything.

"Something amusing?"

"No. No. You certainly are diversified," said Rory. "What metal
do they extract?"
_______________________________________________________________________________
"Silver. What I'd like you to do is fly to Los Angeles. Have a
week or so for sightseeing, then drive up and inspect the
workings. Just over the border in Nevada."

"Is there a problem there?," asked Rory.

"Not that I'm aware of. I need a man who can check it out. Smell
if all is as it should be, and at the same time, get some
background. To be frank, I have a couple of other interests in
silver and it might be to your advantage, long term."

Rory chewed it over in his mind for a minute, then said, "I'm
interested. How soon?"

The package was delivered by courier the next day to Darin and
Em's place. Rory would fly out at the end of the week.
He made the most of his few days left in Sydney. Odds and ends. A
visit here and there and evenings of fun and good food with his
hosts. They both took him to the airport, and Em fussed over his
bags and papers, and then it was goodbye. He took one last look
as he moved through into immigration. Em was crying.
_______________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The 14 hour non stop flight was boring. The movies didn't catch
his attention and he was going to pay at the end for too much
free booze. No pretty women chattered him up and sleep seemed the
only escape. Finally the excitement in the cabin as the coast
came into view. Then the landing with all it's attributes of red
tape and baggage and then the mad throng outside vying for taxis
and cars and limousines. Darius had provided him with an Avis
rental and he finally managed to follow the hordes and fill out
more forms.

Nearly an hour later he drove out of the airport and into the
inner city area of Inglewood. He was booked into an apartment in
Santa Monica, or more correctly as he found out, a studio. Not a
long drive but he was tired and jet lagged.

Rory negotiated the freeways and with a little difficulty, found

the building, one block back from the beach front. Garaging the
rental, he dropped his bags, and took that most necessary shower.
Then just fell on the big bed and slept.

Later he had coffee and went downstairs for a walk. No shortage

of people and places to eat. Together with Venice Beach just a
couple of miles down the coast, this was an enclave of activity
and so different to what he had experienced before. Certainly
South East Asia was teeming with humanity, but this was different
again. All sorts of people came here to sit and eat or sit and
watch others sit and eat. Colourful and vibrant and
cosmopolitan. And no one seemed shy.

Rory also understood that underneath the veneer of any society

was the down side, whatever it was. There would be poverty and
violence, if you dug deep enough. There was no shortage of people
to talk to. Lots wanted to talk. To buy you coffee. For you to
buy them coffee. If he made the effort he was sure he could have
had a companion for that big bed, mostly at a price, but he
wasn't interested. Not just yet anyway.

Rory enjoyed his few days in Los Angeles. Maybe not the driving
and the parking, but it was a holiday. He did a few of the
touristy bits. It was while at the Queen Mary, that great
floating monument to maritime history, that his visit took a turn
in a way he did not expect.

He had spent a little while in the Second Class bar, mainly as

BLACK OPAL 121
_______________________________________________________________________________
the First Class was just a little pricey. This necessitated a
trip to the bathroom. Not being as observant as he should, he
missed a turn in the narrow corridor and found himself instead at
a storeroom. Just as he turned around, he realised his senses had
been slightly dulled, probably the alcohol or the relaxed time he
was having. For standing before him, was a most unsavoury
character. Not so much the unshaven face or general demeanour was
a shock, as the wicked blade on the knife he was holding. Rory
felt a little ill and weak. His last encounter was still fresh in
his mind.

"OK buddy. No noise or you'll be bleeding all over this fancy

floor. Turn around slow like and hands on the door."

Rory slowly turned trying to think what he could do. He hoped

someone would come but this was unlikely.

"Up high mister."

He felt the hand go for his hip pocket. Rory didn't keep it
there.

"Where?" the voice yelled.

"Inside pocket," replied Rory.

"Hands still and no funny move or it'll be your last."

A hand moved around Rory's chest and into his inside coat pocket.
It felt the wallet. Rory could feel the hot breath on the back of
his neck and the point of the knife in his lower back. He just
felt powerless. The nightmare of being stabbed flashed across his
brain. Then there was a crump sound and the hand went limp. At
the same time a weight fell on him then slid down. Rory moved to
the right, turning at the same time.

At his feet was the unsavoury character that had tried to relieve
him of his wallet. Facing him was another person. Even as the
newcomer spoke, Rory's heart gave a bounce in recognition and he
broke into a smile.

"Making a habit of getting knifed, are we?"

The Yorkshire accent was unmistakable.

"Spikey," yelled Rory and stood there shaking. Then he put his
arms out and took the other's shoulders.
"How the flammin' hell are you....What's...?" He was lost for
words.

A groan interrupted any further questions.

"Let's get out of here," said the Englishman. He reached down and
retrieving Rory's wallet which had fallen out, took him by the
elbow and moved quickly back to the public areas. A waiter went
to pass by and Spikey grabbed him.

"There's a fellow down that corridor near the store room, with a
large knife. Get security."

The waiter looked blank for a second.

"Now."

Then the waiter grabbed his small radio and started yelling. Even
as the two men moved quickly away to melt into the crowd, a
security officer was approaching on the run. The last they saw,
sheltered from view by a large potted palm, was the security man
disappearing down the corridor and two more of his comrades
following. Rory and Spikey went outside.

"Let's get off this tub, said Spikey, "You and I know best not to
hang around. Too many questions and then we end up in the clink."

Rory nodded and they went down the fancy gangway to the dock and
towards the Snow Goose exhibit.

"Spikey. This is important."

"What," said the other stopping.

"That," said Rory, pointing to a Rest Room sign.

The two of them sat in a coffee shop, at the back, that catered
for the thousands of tourists who came to look at Howard Hughes's
creation. Probably the largest wooden seaplane ever built.

After they had ordered, Rory took a long look at his companion.
"Hello first. Thanks second and what happened third?"

Spikey grinned. "Pure luck, matey. I was sitting in the bar, the
one you were in, and just caught sight of you leaving. So I ups
and after you. Didn't yell. Hate to be conspicuous. You must have
been in a hurry as I nearly lost you. Then peeking down that
corridor, I saw you being frisked by that bastard. I just moved
quick and light, see, and give him the old chop in the kidneys.
He was so busy, he didn't hear me. Lucky. Gave me a shock too."

"Thanks mate. But what are you doing here? Los Angeles?"

The coffee and donuts arrived.

"I'm on my way home. Have a brother in Pasadena I was looking up.

That's why Los Angeles."

Rory was curious. "The dredge at Pakanbaru?"

"Still going I suppose. Johnston came up soon after the ruckus

and told us to move on. Appears the local police chief, who we
both know well, wasn't happy. So unhappy that Johnston thought it
best Matt and I clear out. Offered me a spot up in Malaysia, near
Jesselton. Some extraction processing plant. Too close for me and
anyway it was about time to move on. So I quit."

"And Matt?"

"Said he would head for the Kimberleys or Port Headland. Darius

could get him some job. Left him at Singapore. And you?"

"Well, order another coffee, a long one."

They talked and the hour passed quickly. Quick eyes were also
darting out to the street watching for the assailant or the police, but
nothing presented itself. Spikey was speechless after hearing
about Lightning Ridge. When Rory asked him when he was leaving,
he became pensive then with a big grin, made a suggestion.

"Was to be day after tomorrow. Like to cancel that and come with
you. If a bloke wants excitement, you sure are the place to be.
In fact stay with me brother tonight. He and his missus won't
mind an extra."

Rory shrugged. Seemed a good idea, and with a friend, one who
didn't need showing the ropes so to speak, would make the trip
more pleasant. They finished the last doughnut and getting the
address, Rory said he would meet Spikey at dinner time. He needed
to gather his gear from the apartment and settle up with the
manager. They parted and with a final check around, headed for
their vehicles.

Back at the apartment, he located the manager in the basement,

and told him he was vacating. Rory was assured his tenure was
appreciated, and if he came back to LA, a studio could be made
available. Rory hoped the amount he slipped the manager would be
enough.
Then he headed on to the Santa Monica Freeway. Trying to change
the radio, he nearly missed the Pasadena Freeway turn off, but
deftly swung the rental over, much to the concern of a lady in a
pick up truck. He gave a wave and sped north. This freeway was
obviously older than others he had used. He had to brake quickly
as it seemed to end without warning, and then he was in downtown
Pasadena. Quite a sizeable place, it was a pleasant change to the
congested and sometimes frightening city to the south.

Signs to the well known Cal Tec facility were common. He found
the house, on Colorado Boulevard and parked outside. The house
was an older style, slightly raised above the street level and
with a large wooden veranda across the front. Two camphor laurel
trees covered much of the front yard. Rory still was fascinated
by the shingles on the roofs of the houses. Often covered in
bitumen, he wondered how fire safe they would be. The door opened
before he had a chance to ring.

"Hello." A cheery voice with that distinctive accent from the

British Isles. "I'm Jeremy. Spikey's brother. And you are no
doubt, Rory."

Rory shook hands and with his case, went inside. It wasn't a new
house but it was homely. The lady of the house came out of the
kitchen.

"Gooday. I hope that's how you Aussies say it."

She was definitely American. Spikey appeared with the inevitable

beer and they sat down for a while. Ell, as she introduced
herself was the typical American from the movies of the 1960s.
Apron, cheery and baking apple pie. Then there were the kids. A
boy about 19 or 20, Randy, and a younger girl, Sarah, around 16.
There apparently was also an older daughter, but she was married
and lived over in San Bernardino, some 20 or so miles east.

Spikey had never talked about his family much, only his wife on
odd occasions when the whiskey flowed on some tropical night and
the mosquitoes were more tolerant. Rory wondered how his life
would have turned out. It was a good night. Randy was in college
doing some course in electronics and with a part time job at
Sizzlers. He asked a lot of questions on Australia, particularly
the north and how young people lived and coped. He wanted to go
there some day. They were all interested in his and Spikey's
'assignments' to the lost jungles of South East Asia. There
didn't seem to be much knowledge of this area to them. Media can
be selective. And directive.
Then Randy said he was off to see his girl, the name escaping
Rory's ears.

"Will stay over and go straight to college."

His parents didn't seemed phased by this at all. He said goodbye

and a few minutes later the sound of a car was heard coming
around from the back and disappearing up the street.

"My father would have belted me, if I stayed out all night with
my girlfriend," said Rory.

Jeremy put up his hands in acceptance. "That's how it is these

days. The young ones are living in a different world to the one
you and I grew up in. Still we aren't that much older. Just that
we take time to think about where we are at more often."

"Dad, you're an oldie. We know what we are doing. And we can cope
just as well." Sarah wasn't going to be forgotten on this topic.

And so the night went on. Rory was given Randy's room, as Spikey
already had the study alcove, the only other spare room. Pretty
standard room for a 20 year old. Usual decor of car and movie
posters and some too abstract to think about. There were books on
electronics and hunting and cars and magazines stacked on the
desk. Rory smiled when as he was looking for one to read for a
few minutes, he noticed one was a 'Playboy'. Tiredness came so
quickly that he fell asleep within minutes before he had a chance
to read anything.

Next day the two men took their leave and after a lot of thank
yous for their hospitality, they drove west. Their route led
through suburbs of houses and small industry and greenery to San
Fernando, the ever towering tops of the San Gabriel Mountains
with a little snow still on top, keeping company on their right.
With a little navigation, they picked the turn off on to State
Highway 14 that should take them over the mountains and up to
Mojave.

Traffic was not heavy but by the same token, not sparse. They
moved along, talking now and then but just having a quiet time in
their own minds. For Rory, apart from last night's gathering, he
gave a casual thought for the coming trip. Should be straight
forward. He wondered if there were any opal diggings out here.
Probably not. Although opal was found in lots of other places in
the world, besides Australia, it had limited value in terms of
mining or use. Mostly a milky white or translucent material, it
didn't come anything near the black opal of the Ridge with it's
fiery colours. No, this was silver and copper country, or would
be when they got a little further north. A long way east was Las
Vegas, and a different sort of metal. Money. Should detour back
that way, he thought.

"Spikey, how does a side trip later, to Las Vegas grab you?"

The passenger was in his own thoughts and it took a few seconds
for him to comprehend. But his eyes gave the answer before his
mouth did.

"A man after my own heart. Maybe I can buy me own oil rig if I'm
lucky."

Rory laughed. "I doubt it. Anyway who wants to work. Villa in the
south of wherever is what you want. Lay on the beach. Women all
around."

There was no verbal reply for a while. They passed hundreds of

aircraft just sitting out in the desert. The great mothball
fleet. Nearby was Edwards Air Base. Rory thought of the Shuttle.
Maybe it would land or take off or something as they drove past.
Stupid thought.

Mojave came into sight and the suggestion of some food and drink
seemed to be unanimous. They found a large eatery and ordered.
Not over the top, as Ell had insisted on a big cooked breakfast.
More just a snack and hot drink and a stretch. The air outside
was cool, and refreshing. Through the windows, Rory could see
beyond the town and out into the desert. It was hard to imagine
that surrounding this town of many houses and other man made
structures, was rocks and sand. He liked it. Not so different to
the country around Cloncurry and the Isa, in Queensland.

They moved on and found the vegetation getting sparser. At the

turn off to China Lake, they turned on to Highway 395. Spikey was
babbling on about the secret base that he had read about near
China Lake, but Rory wasn't taking it in. He was thinking about
Tania, and Penny and then women in general. A large sign told
them they were passing Mt. Whitney, the highest mountain in the
USA, outside Alaska. The car was going too fast to get the
height, but Rory made a comment that it looked big. Then as it
moved into the afternoon, Rory wanted to stop for the day. He'd
had enough driving and since Spikey hated the long straight
endless stretches, eyes were looking for something suitable.

A place with the noble name of Independence came. And went. What a
disappointment. Even the donuts were stale. Then much more
promising was the next town. Larger, it seem to boast a few
attractions and two motels.
"Look for something different," said Spikey. "None of these
motels have any character. Even Yorkshire could do better."

Rory gave a quick glance. "A bed is a bed. Still let's see."

Strange as it may seem, there was a place. A visit to the

Monument Bank to change some travellers cheques proved fruitful.
The girl behind the big wooden teller's counter, at first
business like, soon changed when she heard Rory's Australian
accent. Even offered to show him around if he was staying. He
declined but played out the charm, to the annoyance of a customer
waiting. There was a place worth trying but it may be full.

_____________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

They climbed west out of town rather abruptly. The snow was still
on the tops of the mountain range and even patches were seen
amongst the spruce and pines and rocky outcrops they passed.

"I said something different. I didn't think it would be this

different." Spikey was looking down the mountain side. A bridge
was crossed that was definitely new. Rushing grey water cascaded
underneath. Then a small level valley and buildings. A number of
cabins connected by some trails and a two storey log and stone
cabin of impressive size. The car park had two or three vehicles
and beyond the 'Reception' sign was a coffee and souvenir entry.

"This is it. I think? Glacier Lodge. Ah, there's the sign."

Spikey just nodded his head and they got out and entered the
reception door. Antlers adorned the walls and lots of back wood
charm. A middle aged man in check shirt and buckskin boots
appeared from a side door.

"Howdy folks. Ivan's the name. How can I be of service?"

Rory was suitably impressed. "Partner and I are looking for a

room for a night, or maybe two. One of the nice ladies in town
suggested we try up here."

"Might do. Coming into summer season and usually full with the
early birds. Photographers. Painters. You name it." He moved his
bulk around behind the counter and looked at a booking sheet.
"Got a room in here. Upstairs." He looked over his rim less
glasses at them before continuing. "Has a double bed. No single."
Rory looked at Spikey. "Toss you for it. Looser sleeps on the
floor."

Before Spikey could manage a reply, Ivan broke in. "Or, as you
seem to be regular guys, I have a cabin vacant. All mod cons.
$200 a night. From down under, are you?"

"I am," said Rory. "Also on a budget."

"Ok, as a special favour, you being from a long ways off, $200
for the two nights. Cash."

The two travellers looked at each other for a second.

"Done."

"I like a man who knows where he's at," replied the big fellow.
"A name for the register," as he took the money.

"Mason. Rory Mason."

It meant nothing to the manager but the handyman, who had walked
in behind them, with wood for the open fire, it was like a sting.
Thin, late twenties and a scar on his neck under his left ear, he
just stood there. He didn't know them from a bar of soap. In fact
he didn't often know a bar of soap, but the name was familiar.
Stacking his wood pile, he fiddled around checking a shelf until
he got a glance at Rory's face, then turned his back as the two
visitors left the building. The handyman knew he should remember
the name but mental things took a little time. He went out the
front door and watched where the car stopped at one of the brown
cabins up the hill. As he returned to the service shed behind the
main building, he remembered.

The cabin was quite comfortable and met with Spikey's approval. Rory
didn't really care as long as there was a bed and hot shower. They sat
on the little veranda at the front and looked down the valley past the
main lodge. Tumbling water and many boulders, cascaded down the
valley. In the distance was a mountain range, capped in white. At it's
base, Rory could make out some structure, but not recognise it at this
distance. A squirrel hopped onto the railing and he put out his hand
to pat it.

"Hand away'" came the pommy accent. "Nice critters but me brother
warned me that I should touch them. Many have a nasty bite which
could give you rabies."

Rory already had his arm back out of reach. With the glow of some
whiskey and the fading light adding a purple haze to the valley, they
donned coats and headed for the lodge's main dining room. It was full,
and Rory wondered where all the people came from. Also was the car
park. It looked like some drove up from Big Pine or other nearby
towns. The food was reasonable, the wine not so cheap but every one
seemed to be having a good time. a log fire burned in a large stone
hearth, keeping the chilly night air outside.

"You fellows settled in ?" It was Ivan.

"Fine thanks," replied Rory. "Certainly gets busy here."

"Yep. Lots of folks from LA and 'Frisco to keep me happy. Well just
holla," then he moved away.
"Not a bad sort of bloke," said Spikey. "Usual try on with the
prices, which reminds me. You said Darius was picking up the tab,
so why the budget bit?"

"You know me. Wouldn't have cared if it was $250. Just I hate
being taken for a ride. Needed to try and counter that. Worked."

They walked back up to their cabin in the brisk air. The moon
caught patches of snow amongst the rocks and trees and threw them
into glistening halos of light. They couldn't see the stream now,
but heard it, in it's rush to fall away down the mountain.

There was another sense not so nice, that seemed to prick at

Rory's neck. Twice he glanced around but saw nothing in the
gloom.

"You feel anything?," he asked Spikey as they climbed onto the

verandah.

"Like we're being watched or something? Maybe. Dunno. Wine could

be having it's effect, but I am a little uneasy myself."

They stared into the darkness. Most of the other cabins around
were quiet, save one with a radio, but all had lights on. They
went inside and locked the door. A glance showed nothing out of
order. They had a coffee then prepared for bed.

"Think I might have a look around outside," said Spikey, putting

on a thick coat. "Just...you know, to be sure like."

Rory straightened up from his overnight bag. "Might be a good

idea. I could be wrong but my passport at the bottom of my bag is
the right way up."

"So?"

"Just that I threw it in earlier before we went down for tea and
I'm sure it was upside down. Can't be definite. Check yours."

Spikey had a look in his gear. "Wouldn't know. It's here and
everything seems like it was. How about doing a 'Pakanbaru'?"

"You mean, lights out and see what's happening?"

"Year. I'll slip out the bedroom window, it's low down and
there's some bushes behind us. Should be able to see both front
and back. Shut it after me but don't lock it. I'll give it about
half an hour."
As Spikey made for the window, Rory called him back. "Have an
idea. Seems stupid but why not. Here, stuff these pants and coat
with something. A pillow and some of those magazines and anything
else."

"What you scheming at now?"

"Can the overhead light and leave the table one on. I'll walk
out on to the veranda with our dummy clasped to my side and say
a few loud words like I need air and sit it on the steps next to
the railing. Then a big 'see you later' bit by me to our Fred
here and come back inside. You go out the window and see what
might happen. Think I will wait behind the door ready to dive
out."

"Bloody dramatic aren't you? Who would want to follow us?"

"Buggered if I know, but you said yourself you wanted

excitement."

"OK."

The moves were made and after Spikey had slipped away at the
back, Rory sat with coat and boots on, just behind the door,
ready to dive out if needed. He had drawn the curtains shut so
nothing could be seen from outside. It might be a long half hour.
He was going to try and get a fix on the dummy from the front
curtain but decided the door would be too slow to get to, if it
needed.

The minutes ticked by. Twice he looked out through cracks in the
curtains, even at the back, trying to see something. But nothing
seemed to move in the darkness. Not entirely dark, as there was a
waning moon, but lots of unseen areas due to the trees and other
ground cover.

Then a noise at the front door like a small dull thud, almost
immediately followed by a yell to the side. "Freeze or I'll blast
ya."

Rory dived at the door knob and yanked it open, moving quickly
out the door and to the side slightly, so as to be out of the
frame.

"Down there to your left." It was Spikey's voice, then his

running outline as he headed down the drive and into the
darkness. Rory only gave a glance at the dummy lying down on the
steps, before straddling it and taking up the pursuit. He cursed
as he remembered he should have kept a torch nearby. Spikey was
ahead but slowing. He had stopped when Rory caught him. They had
left the road and were in a swampy area with some large rocks.
They couldn't see any further.

"Lost him here," said a breathless voice. "You go that way. Be

careful."

They split up and tried to move through the wet grass. Water
seeped into Rory's shoes. Apart from the feint noise made by
Spikey, and an owl, it was quiet. He reached the end of the damp
area and the mountain side almost immediately started to climb. A
movement behind the first tree and he froze. Taking one step
closer on the difficult terrain, and a form darted out to his
left and up the hill, snorting. Rory's heart had missed a beat at
the size, then he brought his mind into focus. It was only a
deer. He looked around trying to spot Spikey but couldn't. Then a
thump off to his right and some bushes being brushed aside. He
headed over. A groan brought him quickly to a stop and a second
one to it's source.

Even in the dark, he recognised Spikey laying on his side from

his coat. He went down on his knees. "It's Rory. Don't move."

Spikey groaned and started to roll over. "Winded," was the feint
rasping reply.

"Here," said Rory giving him a hand. Spikey sat up with his hands
clasped across his stomach and gave another groan.

Then he stood up, all dripping wet. "Bastard. Came out of

nowhere.... Got me in the stomach with..... a branch or
something." His voice was laboured as he tried to regain his
wind.

Rory took a look around in the gloom but could see nothing.
Supporting his friend, they made their way back through the trees
to the roadway and up to the cabin. Sitting Spikey on the sofa,
Rory did a quick check of the building's inside but found no one.
Apart from some scratches and a very sore stomach, Spikey was
none the worse for the event, and took a liberal shot of
Kentucky. Rory had a drop in his coffee. Then he retrieved the
dummy from the veranda steps. He found the slit in the back of
the shirt, a cause for concern.
"What went on out there, Spikey?'

"Well I had a reasonable view of front and back. Was just

thinking what a right pair we were turning out to be when I saw
him."

"Him?"

"Coming through the brush to the right at an angle, towards the

back of our friend here. Didn't see me of course. Was thinking of
grabbing him when he got up close. Then I sees the gleam in the
moon light of silver and the bloke throws a knife. It went right
in the back. That's when I yelled. He wasn't fooled and bolted."

"Just a minute and I'll go look for the knife. Didn't see it."

Rory returned shortly. "Nothing. Must have come back after he

hit you and taken it. Who would want to kill us. Or more likely,
me?"

"Dunno," said Spikey. "Maybe the guy on the boat. No. Wouldn't be
him. Robbery?"

"Doubt it. You might knife someone if you were caught stealing,
but this wasn't robbery."

"Well I'm tired," said Spikey as he stood up. "I gather you
aren't in a hurry to call the manager or the police tonight?'

"No. Don't think there is much point. Do it tomorrow. Lock the

windows and let's get some rest."

The rest of the night was uneventful except for the bellowing
far off of some antelope creature. Next morning they walked down
for breakfast, and sought out Ivan.

"You're kidding me, you guys. Sure it's not the wine last night
or some happy pills or something?"

Rory was a little on edge. " Listen Mister. This is no joke. If

it was me on those steps last night, it wouldn't be me talking to
you now. You've got no loony’s around here, have you?"

"OK. Keep your shirt on. I'm sorry about what happened. Sure as
hell's going to worry me. Never had any trouble up here. Can't
figure who'd want to. I'll ring the sheriff in Bishop and get him
to come up."

They thanked him and went and ate. After wards, Ivan came in and
said that the sheriff was out of town and would call in later in
the day. Rory cast an eye about the people that were eating and
later outside, but none seemed too interested in them. Back at
the cabin, Spikey decided to take it easy.

"Think I'll just rest up and sit out front. Back to the wall of
course."

"Some short hiking tracks about. Might take a stroll up to the

first lookout. Seems a shame to waste the scenery."

A discussion followed on the risky business of going off and

Spikey insisting he come with Rory. There was a last check of the
cabin and the pairing knife from the kitchenette drawer was
safely stowed in Spikey's belt. They climbed upwards in the
morning light, amazed at the clear air and the occasional almost
perfect view. The path wound around boulders, all taken with a
careful eye, and through the spruce and Mariposa Pine. All the
time climbing. They met a couple coming down, but except for a
cheery 'good morning, great day', saw no one else.

At the rare, and rustic bench seats that seem to just appear
beneath a tree or at a break, Spikey sat. He was reasonably fit,
but last night and his general dislike of exercise, without
profit, was making this excursion more a necessity than a time of
exploration and enjoyment. It took some 50 minutes to reach the
first lookout, aptly named 'Eagles Rest'. It sat above a rock
scree and hence had no trees in front that obscured the view. And
what a magnificent view it was. Stretching far down the valley it
followed the tumbling stream. Past the lodge until lost in a mass
of greenery and rocks. If you lifted your eyes, one saw the far
distant White Mountains, capped in a mantle of snow. At their
feet it appeared undulating, splotches of grey and yellow. From
their trip up, Rory knew this was the desert. It was a surprise
to him to find it so dry and open on the eastern side of the
coastal ranges after the green and wetter forests on the west
coast that he had read about in travel brochures. And somewhere
beyond those mountains he could see, was the metropolis of Las
Vegas, sitting in the middle of nothing.

They sat for a long while, just taking in the view. A group of
young people came up from the valley, giving a greeting as they
passed. All with day packs, they seemed oblivious to the world
not so far away with all it's pretensions and dangers. Overhead
an eagle or hawk just circled lazily, then it's mate joined him.
It was indeed a restful place.

They headed back down. Although the trail was formed, there was
still a lot of rocks embedded in it's surface, and it was easy to
trip. When the shot came, Rory didn't immediately comprehend what
had happened, just the dust flying up in front of his feet and
the high pitched whine as sparks came from a rock on the track
less than three feet away. Then he did. Spikey was already
yelling something, as Rory broke into action and dived into the
drainage ditch that was along side this part of the trail. The
second shot was quick on the heel of the first but the branch it
hit was slightly further up.

They wriggled and made for more cover without trying to be

exposed. This was danger and the loud banging Rory heard was his
own heart. Away from him was silence. Even the noisy birds had
taken shelter. Not quite silence. The ever falling creek was not
perturbed. It just continued to fall.

"You right?," came Spikey's voice.

Rory was breathing so quickly he had difficulty in getting out

the words straight away. "Fine."

They waited, hoping the earth would swallow them up or the

cavalry would arrive. No tourists appeared. A squirrel bobbed up
in front of Rory's nose, giving him a scare. When no sound came
after about three minutes, they crawled together and then Spikey
slowly raised his cap. Nothing happened. A very cautious look
followed and finally they stood, making sure they were covered by
a tree. The shots had come from down the valley or across it.
Moving from whatever cover there was, mostly crouching and
stopping, they headed back down.

Nothing. It could be a trick to give them a sense of false

security. Voices. Then three people came around a bend, climbing
towards them. "Howdy," said the leading man. His female
companions smiled.

"Hi," replied Rory. "You hear anything. Some shots or something?"

"No." He turned and asked his friends, but they just looked
surprised and said no. "Talking too much. You might have heard a
branch breaking or falling rocks. How far to the first lookout?"

"Oh, not far. Bye." Rory felt safer but somehow wished they would
go back. Naturally they were going on. They disappeared amongst
the trees higher up.

"Come on," said Spikey, " let's get out of here."

They walked quicker now, darting from side to side until they
were almost running as they reached the cabins. Some one was
sitting on the veranda smoking of the cabin next door, and a
handyman was doing something or other to a post down the way.
They made it to the door and even crouching as it was unlocked by
Rory, slipped inside.

"Someone is definitely out to kill us. No. To kill me. Why?"

A question neither he nor Spikey could find an answer to. They

decided to drive down to the Lodge and wait for the sheriff in a
safer environment. Ivan said nothing. It was apparent he only
half believed them, and was regretting having them stay another
night. They had a beer and just sat. Spikey dozed off to sleep in
the big chair.

Just as a few came in for a bite of lunch, so did the law and his
deputy. Ivan pointed them out and the stereotype sheriff,
complete with large belly and that 'don't mess with me look' came
over. The deputy stayed at the desk. Rory stood up.

"You Mason, are you?" The voice was deep and authoritative.

"Yes. This morning someone shot at us. Up on the hill."

"All your word of course. No witnesses. Other than your friend

that is. Now why would some one want to do that?" His voice had a
sarcastic lilt to it.

"Don't know," replied Rory. "Only been in your country a few

days. Maybe some crazy around here."

"Or maybe the only crazy around here is you." The tone of the law
man was plain derision.

"Hey, listen here...." Spikey had stood up, having been awakened
by the conversation. In the same instant both the sheriff and the
deputy had brought out their pistols and had them levelled at the
two visitors.

"What? We're the victims." Rory's voice was incredulous.

"Now just let's be quiet and sensible like, fellas. ID on the

table here and no funny moves. Lester is a good shot."

They slowly removed their passports.

"Now hands behind. We goin' to take a little trip down town."

"But...." There seemed no point in saying anything else. They

were handcuffed, the deputy keeping a safe distance with his
pistol drawn. A small crowd had gathered, saying nothing. Ivan
just stood, expressionless. Both men tried to explain that they
were the victims, but it did no good. They were placed in the
sheriff's car and the journey down the mountain to town began.
Rory was alternately livid and resigned. Something was going on.
So much for American justice.

Standing at the corner of the Lodge, next to a stone abutment, a

figure watched the departing car. With a smile he walked away to
the back of the building and turned into the log and stone
storage shed. Under the bench, covered in a canvas sheet, he
extracted a rifle and emptying the magazine, cleaned it. Then
wrapping it up again with the ammunition, he removed the loose
plank on the floor of the chain saw cupboard, and stowed his
parcel away. After he had washed up, he would make a phone call
to a certain lady he was currently seeing in Bishop. His next
move would probably depend on what she said.

The desert flashed by as the patrol car sped up the highway. Rory
tried to ask questions or even get conversation, but was told, in
that drawl so prevalent in the western states, 'that he should
save his talkin' for later. He might need it.' Bishop came into
sight, a reasonable sized town for this area, crossing Rory's
mind. They turned into a two story brick building and pulled up
at the side.

"You folks won't have any funny ideas of leaving in a hurry, I'm
sure."

Rory only shook his head, as they were lead inside.

"Now since we don't have any charges yet, but that's only a
matter of time, best you relax in one of our cells." They had no
choice. Half pushed, they found themself in one of detention
rooms. The door was slid shut and locked. Spikey just sat on the
floor.

Rory looked around and at his companion. "You seem pretty quiet.
You sure this has nothing to do......? Sorry. Just that this is
so mixed up. Trying to kill me, then getting arrested. For what?"

"You're right," came a voice from his friend, "it is all mixed
up. I just hates being mixed up with the law. I've done nothing
that I can think of, so I'm thinking. We best get on side with
this sheriff fellow and find out what going down, before we end
up in some prison."

"OK."

Rory yelled for the man with a badge but no one came. They just
sat there and waited.

Two tin mugs of coffee arrived by a deputy about an hour later

who advised them to stand well away from the door or he would
'chuck it all over yous'. The cell was warm despite the time of
the year. Just when stomachs were making noises that lunch would
be nice, the sheriff appeared and unlocked the cell.

"Sorry for the wait but I guess you are free to go."

"Just like that?", said Rory. "Why were we dragged down here and
thrown in a cell? I want to know."

They had followed him out to the main office. "Well it seems we
have nothing to charge you with. Had an anonymous phone call this
morning that you was wanted for serious crimes and was hiding out
at the Lodge. Thought this bull crap about being shot at and
attacked was a smoke screen to get away or whatever."

"Garbage," said Spikey. "We was attacked and my friend here would
have been killed except for good luck. And we ain't done nothing
wrong." The Yorkshire accent was becoming more prominent as he
got worked up.

"Keep your shirt on. It won't need much to keep you here. We've
been waiting on State Police at Sacramento to tell us if you was
wanted. They had to wait on the FBI. Don't know about Australia
or the like, but there's nothing on file. Yet. Hope you was
comfortable and we didn't get too..... Sorry you couldn't help us
with our inquiries."

"You're enquiries?" Rory could just contain his anger. "What

about what happened back at the mountain.?"

"Well, tell my deputy here exactly how it all took place and
he'll have a look around. My advice is to keep on going to
wherever it was you was going to. That way you live longer."

Rory looked in disbelief. "Our car and gear. You forget we have
to go back."

"And we have another night we paid for." Spikey was getting his
courage back up.

The sheriff looked at them as he placed both his hands on the

counter in front of him. "Well we took the liberty of making sure
you wouldn't have any more trouble back there. Ivan is on his way
down in your rental with all your gear. My deputy can take him
back. Real nice of Ivan to do that." He pointed to the front
door. "Suggest you just wait out in the sunshine." Then he turned
away.

Rory went outside followed by Spikey. They sat down on a bench.

"What about the statement you was supposed to give?"

Rory gave his partner a half shrug. "Waste of time I should

think. You see it in the movies but just don't think it would
ever happen to you."

Rory saw a diner opposite and indicated to Spikey. "Something to

eat?"

Spikey nodded and they crossed the street and went up the three
steps into the building. There were several tables and booths
free. They sat at one near the front window to keep a lookout for
their car.

"What'll you have fellas?" She had her pencil and pad at the
ready.

They ordered and tried to fathom out what had transpired in the
last 24 hours. When the meal and coffee was finished they just
sat.

"The edge is taken off the trip," said Rory, "so I feel just like
getting to the mine and doing what I have to and taking off."

"How about Las Vegas? It's not that far from the workings, is
it?"

Rory thought a second and shrugged. "Why not. As soon as we get

the car we can sort it out on the road map."
 Shortly afterwards, their car appeared and pulled up outside the
sheriff's office. Ivan got out and went inside. Rory and Spikey
paid and went across, waiting at the vehicle. Ivan came back.

"Brought all your stuff. Nice rental." He was a bit uneasy.

"You set us up?" Rory was direct.

"Know nothin' about it. Honest. Ever passing again, you have that
night we agreed. Leave it a while though." He gave a half salute
and went back inside.

Spikey checked the bags on the back seat, and they drove south
out of town. It was necessary to go back so they could get over
into Nevada. At the gas station just at the edge of town, they
filled up and even were approached by a young woman wanting a
ride to LA. The road was long and windy, taking them right
through the centre of Death Valley. Spikey remarked that he was
glad it wasn't summer. Rory countered that he was glad it wasn't
winter either. Outside it was freezing. But there were
compensations. The scenery was stunning. The surrounding
mountain
rims were alive with colours and the creosote bushes and sage
that dotted the landscape every now and then gave it a blotchy
effect. There were a few cars and trucks going both ways. They
stopped at a cafe come information stop and had a rest. When
there was no traffic passing, it was so quiet. A coyote suddenly
appeared about 200 yards away, took a sniff and just as quickly
disappeared. The smell of desert was in the air.
_______________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Half an hour over the state line and the turn off to the workings
came up. A sign on the roadside confirmed it. 'Amalgamated
Minerals'. They followed the access road for about three miles
towards a low range of hills, then the front gate was ahead. A
shack with a man standing outside was just beyond. He stood by
the roadside as they drove through the open gate and pulled up.

"Howdy. Private property from here. What can we do for you

fellas?" He was all smiles but efficient.

Rory got out. "Hi. Rory Mason from Oceanic Mining. Have a letter
of introduction to Brent Wilson." He held it in his hand.

"Brent is over at the tailings. Wait here while I phone him." He

flipped out a mobile phone from his thick jacket and made a quick
call.

Shortly a red pick up came down the road from the buildings the
men could see further up the hill. A large man wearing a Stetson
got out and talked to the gate keeper.

"Brent Wilson," and stuck out his hand. "Manager. Boss said
Australia was sending somebody to have a look see."

Rory introduced himself and Spikey. They talked and getting into
the truck, were taken on a short tour.

"Not a lot to see. Tailings over there and stores. Office just
behind us and dumps coming up. Most of the mine is underground,
down about 600 feet or so. Processing done down in Clark County
mainly as we ain't got the water up here."

At the base of the hillside was a large entrance. Some more

buildings were to the side. "Some eight guys at the face and
inside. Many sleep on site, over there."

They pulled up at the entrance and following his example of

grabbing a hard hat, they walked inside. It was quite large and
flat. Stores and equipment lay about and many skips, some full of
rock were resting here. They moved aside as a large mover came
towards them towing a loaded skip.

"We're running a good assay at the moment. They tell me it pays

the bills. This is the hoist."
They walked onto the large platform and a wire cage door
closed behind them. Wilson pressed a knob and it started to
descend. It was not as cool as Rory expected, but since it was
cold outside, the mountain could probably be acting as an
insulator. They stopped with a bump and a like cage door swung
up. The three men stepped out into a cavern with lights and noise
and passages leading off to left and right of them.

"We can walk to the nearest face. Ever worked silver?"

Rory had to raise his voice as a small truck with cables and
drills came past. "No. Did the open cut for iron ore at Isa.
Otherwise tin and opals."

"Silver is the real stuff. Lots around the state and over in
California."

Spikey spoke up. "Is this where most of the American silver comes
from, I mean the west of the country?"

"Yes and no. More silver mines than you can poke a stick at, down
in Mexico. Around Zacatecas, there are more than 200. Trouble is
they are small and rely on manual labour. We can pull out more
ounces and process it better."

A bell sounded twice behind them. "Have to answer the phone. Wait
here." He went back to the hoist, and waved to them to join him.

"Have to go up top again. Some stores and other stuff is coming in

and I need to see if it's right. We'll do the face tour later."

They ascended to the top and drove to near one of the buildings.

"Will be a short while yet. Come inside and have coffee."

They got out and followed him. There were a couple of steps up
to the door of the rec hut. As Rory reached them, he half turned
to look at the vista. In that instant he saw a flash from the tall
building about 150 yards away and felt his hat being knocked
off his head. Even as he turned back, Brent had gasped out a
noise and fallen onto the door post. Blood was appearing.

"What the.................." A voice was heard from inside.

Spikey fell flat, but Rory dived over the fallen man and started
to drag him through the doorway. A worker appeared from inside,
but even as he went to stoop to help Rory, another shot took out
splinters from the door frame and grazed the man's face. He
yelled in pain and stumbled backwards. They moved away from the
door just as Spikey made a lunge nearly flattening Wilson who was
starting to get up on his knees.

"Bloody hell," said the Englishman, "this is becoming a habit.

How's the boss man?"

"I'll live, " said a deep voice. He was obviously in some pain.
"Hit in the arm but I can move it." As he did, more blood
appeared.

Rory grabbed a towel and wrapped it around the blood. "I saw the
flash. It came from the upstairs window on that big building over
there. How do you feel?"

"Don't ask, " he wheezed.

The other man who had been hit by the splinter, was running blood
and had his hand over his cheek. He stood up. "What can we do?"

"Ring Zephram and get him up here quick. Then the shift and warn
them to stay inside the entrance."

Rory looked around and saw two rifles standing behind the door.
He grabbed one. "I'm going to get closer. Spikey, you put off a
shot or two to cover me."

Brent put out his other arm. "Don't be foolish. Could get
yourself killed. Zephram is a crack shot. Wait for him."

"Spikey, now."

Spikey stuck the rifle he had grabbed, out the door and aimed at
the two story building. He let off two shots at the top window
and Rory just ran, diving behind some metal bins a short distance
away. No shots came. Out of line with the window, he ran towards
the side of the building. Another shot rang out but didn't seem
to be aimed at him. More at the rec hut. Reaching the side he
slid around to the front door, under the upstairs window and
standing at the side of the opening, stuck the barrel inside.
Nothing happened. He heard the roar of a vehicle approaching up
the grade.

The only thing that came to his mind was to find out why he was a
target. "You in there. You haven't got a chance. This place will
be crawling with workers in a moment. Another rifle's coming
now."

There was silence.

"Drop it and come down."

There was a shuffling sound from upstairs on the big mezzanine

that appeared to be a storage area of some sort. Rory got down
behind a drum.

"You're dead meat, Mason."

Rory felt surprised. "Who are you?" He peered over the top of the
drum and caught an outline of a man moving along the railing
towards the back. "Move one more step and I shoot." He could have
shot but would probably have missed. He wasn't great with a
rifle. To his surprise the man stopped and half showed himself.

Rory had him in his sights but couldn't pull the trigger. He had
to know what was going on. Plus he had never shot at anyone
before, let alone killed. No, that was not true. There was that
mean bastard who had kidnapped Tania. That was self defence. "Who
are you?"

The half crouching person stood up or rather kneeled , peering

over a crate on the upstairs floor. A rifle was aimed towards
Rory. A sort of Mexican stand off. "I owed my life to Benny. And
you killed him. Now you will pay." The voice was shaky, sort of
high pitched.

Rory tried to think who was Benny. It only took about five
seconds for the penny to drop and his memory to kick in. Benny
Salvatore, that mean bastard who tried to rape Tania and kill
him. "That was self defence mate. He kidnapped my...my wife and
tried to kill both me and her."

"Bull crap. You'd say anything. He's dead and so are you. Luck
brought you to me and I aim to avenge him."

Rory was sweating and didn't know if he should pull the trigger
or talk. If he missed, he might get hit. Fear momentarily froze
him as suddenly his assailant stood up and took a bead on him
with his rifle. The noise of the shot echoed around the store
house. Then a second. Rory knew he was not dead. All he could
take in was a falling man. A man falling from upstairs and
landing with a crump. He did not make a sound. Rory just looked.
"You right mister?" The voice came from behind him. Rory turned
and saw the dim shape of a large man with a rifle.

"Best you point the rifle the other way. The way you're shaking
it's liable to go off, and we don't want any more dead bodies to
confuse the sheriff."

Rory put the rifle on the floor and stood up. As the man moved
in, two others came with him, then a third. The latter was
Spikey. Rory recognised the man with the rifle as the man on the
front gate.

"You right Rory?" It was Spikey's voice. Then the Englishman was
alongside with a hand on his shoulder. "That was a brave thing
racing in here. Bloody stupid thing too. Who is he, or was he?"

Before he could answer, he was ushered outside. Brent Wilson took

his arm and steered him to the truck. "You sure as hell raise the
profile of mining here. OK?" Without waiting for a reply, they
drove off to the rec hut. "You need a drink. So do I."

It was a very short distance and the whiskey burned, but Rory
felt better. Everyone was there, as many of the workers had come
rushing in. He saw Zephram, the gate man and simply said
"Thanks."

"Had to do something. Came in and all I saw was him raising his
rifle to plug you. Got him through the heart. Did hear a bit
about his buddy or something and he was getting even."

Rory simply told the story as it came to his mind. People nodded.
He just ended by saying, "It's all so stupid."

"Bill fold gives a name and an address as Glacier Lodge over near
Big Pine."

"That's where we was shot at, "said Spikey. "Must work there or
something."

"I'll get Sheriff Mathers up," said the manager. "If you take my
advice, I'd forget about all that past vendetta thing. Mathers
can be a real pain in the butt and you could end up stuck here in
Nevada for ages. You never met him or knew him before so leave it
at that. Just some crazy who started firing at all of us and,
hell, it was our man who took him out when he took a bead on you.
Eventually they'll connect you staying at the Lodge and want to
talk. By then, if I was you fellows, get the hell a long way off.
Disappear in Vegas or LA. After all you didn't have nothing to do
with it, but you could be here a week if Mathers thinks there's
something."

Rory agreed with him and they sat around a little longer. It
appeared the sheriff would be about an hour, so a quick tour of
the site was done, including some of the working faces
underneath. Rory had done that sort of work once at Mt.Isa and
confirmed to himself that sunlight had it's advantages.

Apparently Brent Wilson had spoken to his workers and they 'heard
no story' only what they saw. Finally the sheriff arrived. He was
certainly much more pleasant than the one Rory and Spikey had met
earlier in Bishop. True, he did emit this feeling that he was at
the top of the chain. After all he was the law. But he was
reasonable and took it as seen. Someone getting in and bent on
shooting. Still he would check it out further and talk to his
counterpart over in Bishop. Luckily he forgot to ask where the
visitors had stayed the night before. He would remember later for
sure and know something was to be uncovered.

After he left, Rory thanked the manager and left. At the gate, he
got out and again gave his thanks to Zephram.

"Only doing it as was necessary. Can't have our Osstralien

cousins getting done over. Take care"

They drove on, and turned at the highway towards Las Vegas. Just
before the Clark County line, an ambulance passed them in the
opposite direction. Obviously going to pick up the body. The
highway was fast, being the preferred route from Reno to Vegas.

As night approached, the lights ahead could only mean one place.
It was the brightest scene that either of them had ever seen.
Coming over a sand crest, there lay out before them the life
force that was Las Vegas. There were more advertising signs than
ever seen so far in this country by Rory. They just drove. You
name it, it was there. Huge casinos and hotels that tried to out
do each other for size and originality. MGM Grand; Circus Circus;
Rio; Riviera; Stardust; Luxor. They came and still kept coming.
Every man and his dog seemed to have a show. Some they had heard
of, and others not. Bo Diddley; Roger Whittaker, Olivia Newton-
John; Siegfried and Roy; Gladys Knight.

"Let's eat and find a place to stay. This time no mountain shack.
Darius is paying so let's make it big."
Spikey agreed and finally they settled on the Flamingo Hilton on
the Boulevarde. It was huge and like most others boasted a casino
and some special attraction. Rory wasn't sure, but this seemed to
be birds, particularly flamingos. It was all very sleek and when
settled in, they went sight seeing. Money was everywhere. So was
food and drink and all at reasonable prices. And there were
women. Even Spikey turned his head a few times. Many were there
for the men. Making it obvious, even when playing the pokies.

"What a place," said Spikey. "Beer and boobs. Wish I was

younger."

Rory needed the distractions after coming so close to losing his

life in the last three days. They took in a show at Bally's, with
outrageous dancers and gorgeous costumes, and prices that needed
an expense account. It was here that Cora and Ebby literally
introduced themselves as 'in town for a day or two and looking
for company'. They didn't look like hookers to Rory, just girls
out for a good time. Boosted with Spikey's presence, they bought
drinks and went strip crawling. Actually Rory enjoyed their
company, particularly Cora. She was outgoing without being
obtrusive and domineering. Divorced and in a high pressure job
with the Bank of America in San Francisco, she and her girl
friend were getting some time out therapy.

Spikey wanted to see the Venetian, but Rory had had enough
glitter and baubles for one night. Ebby and Spikey went off. Rory
looked at Cora. "What now?"

"Well," she replied, "How about a light snack, then, whatever."

Rory knew this could be anything. If he wanted to get her into

bed, she would be happy, he felt. Did he want to? Physically he
wouldn't object. It would be nice but mentally he just didn't
want to. He liked her and she was good looking. He needed company
and support and someone to talk to. Here was the opportunity to
have either, but not both. Because if he did opt for a roll in
the pillows, he couldn't be sure she would be the other for
genuine listening. Perhaps she would. He felt confused and needed
some stability. Anyway she would be gone tomorrow, maybe.

"I'm not really looking for a....more good company."

She looked at him and smiled. "I didn't come here to find a man
and get straight into bed. Not that there is much wrong with that, but
it has to be when it feels the thing to do. I like someone's company
and that is not always easy to find. Most mid level execs are after
my body. That's not my scene."
"So what now?"

"Find a quiet bar and talk. I'm easy."

Rory looked at her and brushed some hair off her forehead. She
didn't flinch. "Pizza."

"What?"

"Pizza. How about a pizza and coffee at my hotel. In my hotel

room. If we can do that without thinking of anything else, then
we are mature people."

Rory just blinked.

"You're sure one interesting guy. Are all Australians like you.
No don't answer that. They are all different, I'm sure. You are
you, and I like that. Let's go."

They bought a Supreme and ate it in Rory's room. She made the
coffee and they ate and talked. She was a good listener, and was
concerned about his recent brushes with danger. Her life was
interesting to Rory. Growing up in San Francisco, living through
the tail end of the so called hippy times. Tiredness was creeping
up on both of them, and at some point, he laid his head on her
shoulder and they just sat there, lost in no thoughts.

After a few minutes, she sat up. "Time for you to get some sleep
and me to go home." She stood up and he did likewise.

"Thanks for the evening," he said and taking her shoulders

gently, gave her a kiss. She did not resist.

"You don't have to go," he said as she picked up her handbag.

"I should," she replied. "I don't want to spoil a nice evening."

He took her hand and walked to the door. Then he gave her a kiss.
Somehow it felt right. He wanted her to stay, but it had to be
her decision. She dropped her bag and put her hands around him.

Rory hadn't planned it. It just eventuated despite all his good
intentions. It was a release of all those last few days. It was
good to have a warm body next to his in bed. To hold and explore.
She was relaxed but somehow he felt there was something on her
mind.

The sun rose on a clear day that betokened a good feel for Rory.
Cora and he had coffee at the window that looked out onto the
bird park attached to the hotel. Cora was chatty but definitely
in thought.

Then breakfast downstairs in the hotel bistro. There was

something that she seemed to think of, then forget.

Rory decided to chance it. "Something on your mind. Once or twice

I sort of felt you were somewhere else." Then he put up his hand.
"Sorry, your business."

She put down her coffee. "You're right, Rory. I have to be out in
the open here. I don't believe it myself, but I think I just
might have guilt feelings."

"Someone else?"

She looked at him for a few seconds. "Yes. I know I said I was
fighting off the leeches in my business, but there is someone I
just keep thinking about. I feel a bit rotten."

"Not at all. Probably wouldn't have worked. One of us would have

to leave our country and..... That was a stupid thought. If you
want it to go ahead, you find a way. It was great meeting you.
When are you off?", he said moving the conversation on to less
emotional ground.

"I have two days off, but somehow I would like to go back today.
I enjoyed myself and want those memories. When are you off?"

He was looking out the glass window into the shopping concourse.
"I think today is a good day. You flying?"

"Yes."

"Then I will fly back with you, if it's alright. I can fly to
Sydney from San Francisco, I'm sure. Just have to pick up a gift
for someone first before we leave. Sorry, I didn't ask if you
objected?"

"Of course not. It would be company, even if it is a short

flight. There's a flight booking office outside. We should make
reservations then you do your shopping. Someone special, or am I
being nosy?"
"He gave a little laugh. "No. A special lady. And her husband and
her lovely children."

"Oh."

"I admit there was a time, a long time ago, before Helen when
I...Anyway she and Darin are close friends, all I have really.
Not forgetting the kids."

As they were leaving, Spikey appeared at the elevator doors. He

sighted them and gave a yell.

"I knocked but didn't get an answer. Was going to have a bite and
presto. It's Cora I seem to remember. How are you?"

She smiled in recognition. "Spot on, as the English say. They do

say that?"

"You'll do." He looked at them and smiled. "Should I get lost?"

"Nonsense," replied Rory. "Actually I was thinking of heading

back home today. What are your plans?"

"Ebby wants to show me around, if she remembers. Was to meet me

here about nine. She probably was going to discuss it but I
guess," putting that look in his eye, "she didn't get the
chance."

"I'll ring our hotel." Cora disappeared for a few minutes.

"You had a good time I gather."

"This is Las Vegas and yes, we had a good time. Wasn't planning
it that way, but things happen. Anyway we are leaving if you
don't mind. Just look at your face, you silly bastard. No, we are
worlds apart and when we step off the plane in San Francisco,
will probably never see each other again. Heading back home as
soon as I can get a flight."

Spikey was happy with the new arrangements. After all he had only
come along as a fill in opportunity. He would see how the day
went here and play it by ear. England would come soon enough.
They said goodbye, and again Rory thanked him for helping out and
saving him from muggers and killers.

Cora came back and said Ebby was on her way and said to say
goodbye. Then Spikey disappeared through the doors to the
concourse. Rory and Cora were lucky at the flight centre. They
could get a flight in two hours and Rory could leave his rental
car at the airport. Whilst she went off, he didn't ask why, he
shopped and had some gift wrapping done.

The flight wasn't long, as Cora had said. They sat and
contemplated their respective futures. He asked her about her job
and this lead to her asking him about his. He didn't honestly
know. If Darius couldn't give him an answer to this stage in his
life, there were plenty of opportunities to find others. Maybe he
would just go round and round the world doing this and that. Wait
and see.

Her romantic interest was a painter. Rory was surprised but said
nothing. Apparently he had done a couple of gallery displays and
was his own self. Perhaps that what was she was needing. He
wished her all the luck in the world. Then they were landing, the
Bay looming alongside as large as an ocean. Across the water was
the city. Cora told him they had landed on the eastern side at
Oakland Airport. His flight would leave from the western side
near San Bruno and she had her car so there was no trouble with
getting across town. It would be her pleasure.

They picked up her Mazda coupe and drove up the freeway and
turned onto the Oakland Bay Bridge. It was as he had seen in
movies. Then they were in the city. It was so different to Los
Angeles. Much like Sydney in some respects. It had character. She
turned off the freeway and drove the long way around, taking in a
few sights and hills. Oh those hills. He had four hours to wait
before boarding, and despite saying he was taking up her time,
she insisted on the 'Tour de Luxe'. They fluked a parking spot at
Fisherman's Wharf and spent a few minutes wandering among the
vendors and cooking pots and buskers. He took her hand and she
didn't resist.

"You're a country person, "she said. "Interested in fresh air and

trees? Big trees?"

"If we have the time. Yes."

They drove through the city, past houses with bay windows then
across the Golden Gate narrows. The suspension bridge was
enormous. She pointed out Sausalito and said her friend worked
down there. It was the place to be. He didn't get a good glimpse
from the freeway then they were off it and heading up around a
winding road into the hills. Around a bend and they were there.
The visitors centre read Muir Woods National Monument. and
towering to the sky were the trees. Giant Redwoods. Huge and
majestic. Ignoring the centre, she took his hand and they
wandered up the well made path amongst the trees. It was like in
a cathedral. Little was spoken between them It wasn't necessary.
In fact it would have distracted from the moment. Groups of
people wandered about and children noisily darted here and there
like large insects under large toadstools. A sign indicated these
were the tallest trees on the planet. With the Sequoias,
they were the largest trees on the North American continent. And
they were old. Only the Bristle Cone Pines were older. He
remembered the sign way back near Big Pine. It was a peaceful
time. They had coffee at the visitors cafe then she suggested it
was time to go. They left reluctantly.

She pointed out the Presidio after they had recrossed the bridge
and soon the familiar outlines of planes appeared. Cora asked if
he would be upset if she didn't wait. He said definitely not.
When the bags came out of the car boot, he took her in his arms
and gave her a long kiss. In a way they both gave each other a
long kiss. Then without words, she got back in, and drove off. No
wave. It wasn't necessary.
_______________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

The flight was reasonable. They went to Hawaii in about four

hours or just less. He had to change planes but had no time to
leave the airport. Then he was winging it across the Pacific,
home. Way down below, was the ocean but it was dark. Every now
and again a twinkle of and then just as quickly, it was gone. He
sat and thought about the last week or two. It was memorable. Not
withstanding that he was nearly killed two or three times. He had
met characters he would like to forget and a few he would like to
have known longer. And there was Cora.

It was morning when they landed in Sydney. The city and harbour
were breathtaking. It was good to be home, back in Australia. Em
was there to meet him. He had phoned her from Honolulu. She gave
him a big hug. At her place he kicked off his shoes and had a
long sleep. Afterwards they ate lunch and talked. He gave her his
small gift he had purchased in Las Vegas. She was thrilled, and
he again wondered about the kiss he got as thanks.

She asked for all the details and when he hinted about a good
time in Las Vegas, she was onto him. He told her about Cora. Not
the intimate details and not to brag. Em was a friend and she was
out of reach, married to Darin, so he could talk about other
women without causing pain. That was his theory but he had never
asked if it was true.

"By the way," said Em at a break in the conversation. "I just

remembered when you were going on about your romances in tinsel
town..."

"I wasn't going on," he interjected.

"She put up her arms in defence. "As I was saying, playing

Rudolph Valentino out on the sand hills, a phone message for
you."

"Not Darius. Not yet I hope. Unless it's Tania. No, not even
her."

Em dug on the fridge top amongst the various papers and junk, and
came back with a slip of paper for him. "Nice voice as I
remember. Seemed pleased you were coming back soon and be sure to
pass on the message." She shook her head. "You men."
He took the offered paper and read it. 'Still having trouble with
eating peas. Hope you could have time. I'm getting hungry.' Then
a Sydney phone number. He felt quite lost for words, and then
elated. "May I?", pointing to the phone.

"Go for it. I'll look for the postman. Or the milkman or who ever
is out there." Then she laughed and gave him a pat on the
arm.

He rang the number. It rang for about six times and he was
thinking about trying later, when it was picked up. A voice he
knew that was familiar. "Hello."

"Penny. This is Rory Mason. I just flew in from the States."

"Hello again. I'm glad you rang. Sort of hoping you would."

He was conjuring up visions of her face as she talked. "Oh, I'd

like to. You're in Sydney then?"

"Yes," she replied, "staying at a friends house. Actually minding

it whilst she is away. In Ashfield."

He had a vague idea where that was. "Time for a drink or a meal
sometime? Could help with the peas."

"I'd love to. About the Gold Coast, he's long gone."

"And your husband?"

She hesitated slightly. "Ex husband. I haven't seen him and don't
want to. The divorce should be final in a few weeks. Dinner
tonight?"

He thought. "I can't tonight." He thought of Em and Darin and the

kids. "There is a commitment I can't break tonight," he replied.

"That's OK."

"No it isn't," said Rory. " I want to see you but this is family.
Bugger it. Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. Come for dinner. I
can't wait."

"But your friends?"

"Em and Darin won't mind. they would be delighted. Pick you up
when?"
"No. I'm going into the city shortly, to return a handbag I don't
like. I'll get a taxi. I could be early?"

"Not a problem." He gave her the address and said goodbye.

Em put on her mock act about having nothing to eat then started
to sing and busy herself. "Anything special for dinner?"

Rory thought for a second. "As long as it includes peas."

"I think you may not be staying long with us this trip, somehow."

He smiled and went off to see what gear he had that needed
attending to. The kids were staying out for a birthday party of a
friend and wouldn't be back until after six. Just before five he
heard a car pull up and then drive off. He was beaten to the door
by Em.

"My house. You go back onto the back patio. And fix your hair,
you grot."

Rory waited on the patio. He heard voices and presently there she
was being introduced by Em. They didn't shake hands, rather just
held them.

"And she brought her own fork, Mr. Mason. Tells me it's a special
pea picking up fork. Think I'll go and look at the dinner."

"What happened to the postman?" he jibed as she turned to go.

"Comedian." Then she was gone, shutting the sliding door.

They stood there looking at each other, still holding hands. For
all that happened to Rory in the last few weeks, and the
relationships he had encountered, he suddenly just knew.
Reflected in the glass door behind Penny, he saw a face. Not Em's
but his late wife's. She seemed to be smiling, them she faded. It
may have been his imagination but he took it as a sign. Life was
taking a new turn. He leaned forward and kissed her.

The End.

Jimmy Brooks
 Author's Note.

"Black Opal" is entirely a work of fiction, and all characters depicted,

are likewise. They do not intentionally characterise any known
person, including the author, but are imaginary, as are their
personalities.

It is a story of adventure, love, and searching for whatever it is man

searches for. All places are as near factual as possible. I enjoyed
writing these pages, and sincerely hope, you will enjoy them as well.
For my wife, Margaret, who has to put up with a lot whilst I was
trying to be creative.

Jimmy Brook
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