‘Are you okay?’ Lorcan asked her, his voice dulled, as if she was at the top of a mountain and he was shouting from the bottom.
She was far from okay but she was alive.
‘I told you!’ Her shouting brought on another coughing fit.
He didn’t respond. Maybe he couldn’t hear her. She shouted louder.
‘Another failure. How much did you get?’
He dug the tiny nuggets of gold from his pocket but Naiyana was far from finished.
‘First you build a wall that collapses on us. Then you try and choke me to death. What next? Are you going to shoot us with that rifle?’
Lorcan put the gold away and turned on her. ‘At least I’m trying.’
‘I’m trying too.’
‘Why did you lie about seeing the school?’
Naiyana felt her breath jam in her chest. She wondered how he knew this but he wasn’t finished.
‘Where were you, Nee? You’re always off doing something. Never around here helping out.’
‘Maybe the same place you are when you’re supposed to be off getting materials. Accompanied by a few tinnies.’
‘Only one or two. It’s not as if there is any entertainment at home.’
‘What do you want? A bloody nightclub? We gave all that up.’
‘But we don’t have to,’ he said, the anger turned to pleading.
‘What? Is Nikos Iannis just going to go away? Is Chester Grant? Are BS Foods?’
It was a shouting contest in the middle of an empty street in an empty town. No winners. Just losers.
85 Mike Andrews
Mike tried but failed to waft the smoke from his face. The crusher had caught fire overnight. Switching it on, nothing happened. Something had melted within the motor was Ian’s less-than-expert opinion.
‘How did this happen?’ said Stevie.
‘One guess,’ said Mike.
‘We don’t know that,’ said Ian. ‘It could have been a short circuit. How much will it—?’
‘Of course we know. Who else knows about this set-up?’ said Mike, waving his hand around.
‘It will cost us,’ said Stevie, answering Ian’s question. ‘It melted through a few transistors and damaged the gearing so we need to replace those too.’
‘Which you can pay for,’ said Mike, looking at Ian.
‘How’s that?’ asked Ian, giving him a look that Mike didn’t often care for considering Ian’s oft-mentioned past, but he wasn’t going to lie down on this one.
‘You are not doing your job in protecting the equipment. Which is an extension of your role as protector.’
‘You want me to stay here and guard it at night?’
‘No, just put a bear-trap down. Let it chew through his leg,’ said Mike, ending it with a clack of gum that mimicked the sound of a leg being broken.
‘You got one handy?’
‘You’re the one with the contacts, supposedly.’
Ian waved this off. But Stevie jumped in. ‘To be fair, Ian, Mike’s right. You’re letting things get out of control. If we were tougher they would get out of town.’
‘Since when did you two fancy yourselves as the muscle?’
‘Since you stopped,’ said Mike. He could feel the power pulsing through him. He and Stevie were the enforcers now, an exhilarating role reversal. ‘There are only two reasons for having you around, Ian.’
‘Oh, and what’s that?’
‘Negotiation and enforcement. And now we’re experienced enough to do the negotiating. We have the merchandise, people will come to us.’
‘You know nothing about enforcement,’ said Ian, pacing closer.
Mike looked to his friend for backup, but Stevie’s support was confined to dissenting words only. He looked around for something to defend himself with but their rifle was by the entrance steps.
‘You need us,’ said Mike, the power in his voice gone.
‘Oh, I need you now?’ said Ian, towering over him. ‘The gold is here, the machines are here. I could have two illegals down here tomorrow. I’d get more work and less gip.’
‘Look, he’s only saying that we need to control that family,’ said Stevie, keeping his distance.
‘And if we throw them out what happens then?’
Mike couldn’t find the words. This time Stevie wasn’t helping him out.
‘Nothing? Let me tell you then. If they go, there’s a chance they yabber. And what control do we have then? Remember, keep your friends close and enemies closer.’
‘Unless you get rid of them entirely.’
Both Ian and Mike looked at Stevie. The unspoken had been uttered, leaving a bitter taste. It was disgusting. It was horrible. And now that it was out in the open, it was a possibility.
86 Lorcan
Given what had happened, Lorcan was glad to get out of Kallayee. He wasn’t enamoured about meeting Phil but he was keen to hear Nikos’s answer. A hard ‘Yes’ and they could move to Vic or New South Wales for a while. Maybe even abroad. Distance themselves from Nikos and the rest of the Perth shit and start over. Somewhere more populated.
A ‘No’ and the options were less clear. He could try Ian again but he would be lucky to get a hello from them. They would also guard the equipment to avoid a repeat performance. ‘No’ also meant staying in Kallayee… unless they were forced out. That was another option. Get Ian to kick them out. Then Naiyana would have to leave. Where to could be decided later.
The meeting was in Durston Park in Wisbech. Far enough from Kallayee to feel safe but close enough to get to in a couple of hours. He might even head to a pub after for a spell. Clear his head and his wallet with a couple of cold ones.
It was 12:10 and Phil was late. Not a huge problem. Lorcan had time. Plenty of time. Phil was coming a long way after all. On reflection, it might be nice to see him. A familiar face. They could reminisce about the Murray River fishing trip that ended with them all in the drink trying to retrieve the tinnies that were floating away on the current. Good times. Before Phil had left INK Tech for another Nikos-backed venture.
‘Lorcan Maguire.’
He recognized the voice. The bravado and the confidence. The imposing figure plumped himself onto the bench, the polo shirt unbuttoned to reveal a neatly shaved chest. His dark brows arched towards his nose. Meaning business. Meaning Nikos Iannis.
Phil had stabbed him in the back. The bastard. For money, probably. He had a mortgage and a mail order bride to take care of.
Lorcan glanced around, though he didn’t know who exactly he was looking for. Georgios Iannis was in the hospital. If needed he could make a run for it…
‘Let’s make this quick,’ said Nikos. ‘Do you have it?’
Lorcan had been thrown off course. He had scripted to the word the story he was going to tell Phil. Lying to Nikos would be more difficult.
‘Do you have it?’ said Lorcan. ‘The money?’
‘It’s a lot of money, Lorcan.’
‘It’s good information.’
‘Is that the line you’ve been pitching to other companies?’
Lorcan kept quiet. He tried to compute how to play this. The playbook was scrambled now.
‘Do you have the information?’
‘Do you have the money?’ repeated Lorcan.
Nikos grinned. ‘Not here. I’m not carrying around that much. But I suspect you don’t have the info with you either.’
Lorcan felt the chill crawl down his back. He felt exposed, as if Nikos was suddenly in the driving seat. That he knew something Lorcan didn’t. It was true that he didn’t bring the information with him. A precaution. Maybe subconsciously he knew Phil would betray him. He also knew Nikos’s and his brother’s rep. Playing hardball. So Nikos probably wasn’t enjoying being on the other end of the stick.
‘Two-hundred thousand,’ said Nikos, calmly.
‘Four-hundred.’
‘Two.’
‘Three-hundred.’
Nikos raised his eyebrows. It was a look of pur
e malevolence. It was clear that Lorcan was pushing his luck.
‘Okay, two-hundred,’ said Lorcan. Price agreed, the next part of the plan he was sure of. Keeping his voice controlled and confident, he said, ‘Back here, two days. Eleven a.m.’
‘Not here,’ said Nikos. ‘Somewhere quieter.’
Lorcan shook his head. He wasn’t going to agree to that.
87 Emmaline
Once the vehicle and bodies had been recovered, Emmaline scrambled back to the top of the gorge. The police tape remained, as did a gaggle of reporters. Oily was speaking to them, offering his assistance but giving them little. A crashed vehicle. Two occupants. Unknown identity. Too early to say if they were linked to the murder of Lorcan Maguire or just a tragic accident.
She rounded up her local team: Rispoli, Barker and Anand.
‘Any chance of witnesses to the crash?’
‘Out here, unlikely,’ said Barker.
‘Nearest dwelling?’
Anand checked his tablet. ‘Ulysses Hitchens. About six clicks that way,’ he said, pointing further up the gorge.
‘Let’s go ask.’
On the way, Anand informed her and Rispoli – Barker had remained behind to help Oily finish up – that Ulysses was a little crazy.
‘Says who?’
‘Everyone. He has been for a while. He used to be a professor but his brain curdled in the heat.’
‘A professor of what?’
‘Astronomy. That’s all he does now. Checks the sky for supernovas.’
‘And that’s a job?’
‘He’s retired,’ said Anand. ‘And be wary of his UFOs.’
‘His what?’
‘Ulysses’s Fucking Observations. The lights in the sky he’s always ringing in to the station about.’
‘Recent lights?’
‘Nope. For years.’
* * *
Ulysses Hitchens’s place was essentially a massive glass conservatory with a simple wooden shack bolted on the front. The place was a shambles but the view, out over the gorge, was magnificent.
Ulysses answered the door in a shirt and shorts. He was around seventy years old and sported a magnificent white beard and hair that made him look like some biblical version of God in casual attire. On holiday perhaps.
‘Yesss?’ he asked, drawing the word out.
‘I’m Detective Taylor from the Major Crime Squad, and these are Constables Rispoli and Anand from Leonora.’
Ulysses glanced at her and then the others. ‘I believe I have talked to the constables before.’
Emmaline nodded. ‘We’ve found a crashed vehicle about six kilometres back along the gorge. We’re trying to pinpoint a date for the incident. Do you recall anything suspicious in the area in the past few weeks?’
‘What kind of suspicious?’
‘Movement. New people. Old people. Noises…’
‘A fire,’ added Rispoli. ‘You might have been able to see it from your conservatory.’
‘If I’m in the conservatory I’m looking up, not around, young man. I don’t have time to look around.’
‘This would have been a sizeable blaze,’ said Emmaline. ‘You might have seen the glow.’
‘We get a lot of brush fires around here, miss. Unless the radio tells me to get the hell out, I ignore it,’ he said, with a flourish of his hands.
‘So you haven’t seen or heard anything recently?’
‘Oh, I didn’t say that,’ said Ulysses. ‘I’ve seen lights.’
In the background Anand coughed. The UFOs he had warned about.
‘Where?’ asked Emmaline, treading carefully.
‘Around the Keenan Run. One of the old tracks on my land.’
‘What night was this?’
‘It went on for a few nights, not just one. Days too. I could hear the engines. Trying to steal fence posts or cables, I guess. Copper in them, you see. I tried to get to them to warn them off but I can’t move too good these days. Takes an age to get in and out of my car.’
‘Where is this run?’ interrupted Emmaline.
Ulysses pointed out towards where the ute was found. ‘The night lights came from over there. The engines came from there,’ he said, pointing the opposite direction.
‘Are you sure?’
‘My sight and hearing are all I have left, miss. I trust them implicitly.’
‘Thank you. If we have anything further…’ She paused. ‘You don’t happen to own a quad bike do you by any chance?’ she asked, thinking of the one with slashed tyres in Kallayee.
Ulysses shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. Though I probably should. I might be able to catch the copper-stealing bastards then.’
88 Mike Andrews
Mike was upset. He wanted to give Lorcan Maguire a piece of his mind too. And a smack in the face. But Ian had outwitted them.
‘You have me here as the face of this operation. So let me do my job.’
Mike felt his chest tighten. He had no counterpunch. His own words used against him.
‘What are we meant to do then?’ asked Stevie. ‘The crusher’s broken. I guess we could break some rock manually…’
Mike met Stevie with a scowl. He didn’t want to be down the tunnel splitting rock all day.
‘Clean the equipment then,’ said Ian.
‘You can piss off,’ said Mike.
Ian glared at him. ‘I don’t care what you do. But you’re staying out of this,’ he said, striding out of the house.
LORCAN
Lorcan was still distracted by his earlier meeting with Nikos. With the promise of a showdown in two days. The money in exchange for the information. A tempting offer.
‘Lorcan?’
Also too distracted to spot Ian before he peered through the window.
Lorcan rolled off the lounger and made for the back of the house, hauling Dylan with him. He listened as Naiyana met Ian at the front door.
‘I just want to talk,’ said Ian. He didn’t sound angry, though his tone carried a hint of frustration that Lorcan was wary of. Grabbing the rifle from the eaves and holding it helped. He was glad of its unwavering support.
‘Okay, let’s talk,’ he heard his wife say, sticking up for her family.
‘Just you,’ said Ian. ‘You seem to be the only one with sense out of the two of you.’
Lorcan wanted to defend himself against this slight, but couldn’t muster the words or actions.
‘And not here,’ said Ian. ‘Somewhere quiet.’
‘What do you mean, quiet?’ asked Naiyana.
‘There will be things said about your husband – and my team – that your child doesn’t want to hear,’ said Ian. ‘Best this is done in private.’
There was a palling silence. Lorcan wasn’t keen on this, his wife going off with some stranger. But better her than me, he reasoned.
‘Lorcan?’ said Naiyana.
He stayed silent and held onto Dylan tighter.
‘Okay,’ said Naiyana. ‘I’ll follow you in our ute.’
‘No, we go in mine,’ said Ian. ‘That way your husband has transport should something happen to Dylan.’
It was a statement loaded with threat. Was something going to happen to him when Ian and Nee left? Were the other two going to come and take him or Dylan? Should he take his son and leave? Get a head start? Or should he follow them?
He stayed in the bedroom as he heard the rattle of the miner’s ancient ute as it pulled away. He wondered what to do next, silently asking the rifle for help.
89 Emmaline
They followed the directions Ulysses gave them for the sound of the engines. The Keenan Run was barely worth the name, traversed at little more than walking pace from the far side of Ulysses’s house, down a small incline, up the other side, twisting and turning as if trying to shake them, the track almost gone in parts, overgrown, the 4x4 struggling to navigate it.
‘Could anyone come this way?’ asked Rispoli as the vehicle jerked over another series of bumps.
‘Not
from this side,’ said Emmaline, holding onto the handgrip. ‘This track hasn’t been used in a while.’
The Run lasted five kilometres that took nearly thirty minutes to navigate.
It eventually levelled out, widening at a patch of ground nestled close to a small bushy hill and fenced off by trees. There were, however, distinct tyre tracks in the dust, side by side as if two vehicles had recently parked there.
Emmaline got out of the 4x4 and looked around. There was nothing that would indicate a reason for anyone to be there. No posts, no cables, no water trough, nothing. There was barely room to turn.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Rispoli, creeping around the edge of the site.
‘I think one of these treads will match the crashed ute.’
‘Assuming we get something from Forensics.’
‘And the other set?’ asked Anand.
‘How far is it to Kallayee from here?’ asked Emmaline.
A quick check of the tablet and Anand had an answer. ‘Seven clicks. South-west.’
‘And do you have to go through Hurton?’
‘It doesn’t say.’
‘Let’s try.’
Leaving Anand there, promising to contact Barker ASAP to collect both him and a cast of the tyre tracks, Rispoli and Emmaline navigated the rest of the Keenan Run. Around the hill, the scenery opened out. After a kilometre they came across the pleasure of hard, smooth tarmac. From there they steered west towards Hurton.
‘Do I keep going?’ asked Rispoli.
Then Emmaline saw it. A dirt road to the right.
‘No, down there.’
Rispoli swung onto a road that went part way towards Hurton, before joining the broken tarmac of the once well-maintained road to Kallayee. From there it was a couple of kilometres to town past the TV trucks.
‘What did that tell you?’ asked Rispoli.
‘One of those tracks will be the miners’ transport. The other will match the Maguire’s ute. If we ever find it.’
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