by Drew Lindsay
The huge black Harley thundered along the Mossman-Daintree Road towards Joy Mackay’s home. Ben kept his eye on the speed. He didn’t want to attract police attention.
Joy ushered him into the lounge room and invited him to sit in a large white leather chair which faced the ocean. It was the chair Winston used. She poured two ice waters. Ben accepted one and she sat on a two seater at his left.
‘Anything from the police yet?’ she asked.
‘They haven’t spoken to me but they did tell our film Director that two very nice bike riders, pillars of the community if you will, were brutally murdered in the car park outside the police station last night. The third is in hospital not expected to live.’
‘You have to be joking! They were going to beat me to a pulp!’
‘Well the police don’t know that. The one in hospital is in a coma so they have no idea what happened.’
‘Are we going to tell them?’
No. Not yet anyway. It may just complicate things.’
‘Those bikies were scum….blow-ins. I’ve never seen them around here before. What are the police talking about?’
Ben shrugged. ‘I need to ask you a few questions Joy.’
‘Fire away.’
‘You said that you now had some hope that your husband was alive. It seemed to be connected with Batt Reef and Skull Island.’
Joy put her glass down on a table and folded her hands. ‘My husband worked on a telecommunications project out there over 4 years ago. He retired once the project was finished.’
‘What was his particular field?’ asked Ben.
‘Originally telecommunications generally but then he specialised in submarine communications cable. He was often away for months laying cables all over the place. The ocean bed is littered with them, did you know that?’
‘No.’
Joy stood and walked to a small table in a corner. She flipped open a laptop and switched it on. A few seconds later she beckoned Ben to join her. He saw that she brought up a map of the world on the screen. Red lines ran in all directions across the oceans from almost every country. They bristled in thick masses around the USA, Japan and China. Only three red lines connected Australia to the rest of the world. They were at Sydney, Perth and Port Headland. ‘There are more cables out there from Australia but not marked on this map. The submarine cable my husband worked on was highly classified. He shouldn’t have told me anything about it, and what he did was vague.’
‘I recall learning about a cable from Australia to Singapore and England from Broome in Western Australia,’ said Ben.
‘Not used any more. That was put down in the late 1800’s so the mother of pearl industry in Broome could keep abreast of market trends for their product. They made buttons out of mother of pearl in those days. Then some smartie invented plastic buttons and the mother of pearl industry went bust along with the communications cable.’
‘So what went on out near Batt Reef? There is no indication of a cable leaving Australia in that area.’
‘Oh there is one alright. Not at Batt Reef but just to the east of Skull Island. They actually had to take it around Skull Island and keep it well from the reef. Winston used to call Skull an “inconvenient island” because of the huge detour from Port Douglas it created.’
‘So it terminates at Port Douglas?’
‘Terminates and begins. Two way communication.’
‘Where does the cable go?’
‘Hawaii I think, and from there to LA and Lord knows where from there.’
‘Why was it such a secret?’
‘Not too sure about that Ben. I know they had to bury it much deeper in the sea bed than most cables. They didn’t want this one damaged by shipping or vulnerable to attack.’
‘Do you know what kind of information travelled in this cable?’
‘No. The tiny bit I did learn was when Winston was drunk, and that wasn’t every often.’
Ben walked back to the lounge chair and sat down. ‘So why do you think your husband may still be alive?’
‘The cable he worked on ran close by Skull Island. Foreigners now own Skull Island and are prepared to use force to keep people away from it. Otherwise, what’s the big deal out there? It’s an island in the middle of no-where. 360 degree view of the Coral Sea. It appears there are just men living there. I’ve never seen a woman on that boat of theirs. And why the airstrip and light planes?’
Ben nodded thoughtfully.
‘And the threats from the men in the Lincoln for me to stop putting up photographs of my missing husband. Then the bikies about to beat me up and use a camera to show someone the results of their handiwork. I’m no detective, but I’d bet my last dollar that my husband somehow ended up on Skull Island. Her eyes glistened with tears.
‘OK, two more things Joy. Did you write down the number plate of the Lincoln?’
‘Sure did and gave it to the Police.’
‘What did they say?’
‘The Detective Inspector there; Roy Tanner, checked it out personally. Claims it belongs to a farmer from Rockhampton. That’s over a thousand kilometres from here.’
‘Can you get the number for me?’
‘Sure.’ Joy went to another room and returned a few seconds later with a small piece of paper. She handed it to Ben. ‘I’ll try and have this checked out myself and see if we can get a name. It might mean something.’
‘I’m ever so grateful to you Ben. I was starting to feel as if no-one was prepared to help me.’
‘I’ll do what I can. The other thing is your husband’s boat. Do you know where it is?’
‘The Police have it. It’s only a 15 foot runabout. I guess it’s in their holding yard with the stolen cars and things.’
‘Do you know where that is?’
‘It’s out along Wharf Street just south of town. Huge wire fence around it and video cameras. I wouldn’t go poking around there Mr. Hood.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘Can I ask why you want to look at Winston’s boat?’
‘They say it got holed on a coral reef. The way the hole is made should confirm that.’
‘Please be careful.’
‘I will. I need some heavy wire cutters. Did Winston keep anything like that?’
‘He’s got thousands of tools. You can take what you want as you leave.’
Joy was silent for a short while and then rose and walked to a large timber cabinet. She took some keys from her pocket and used one of them to unlock the cabinet doors. She then selected another key and unlocked a timber drawer. She removed a large cardboard box from the drawer and walked back to Ben, holding the box out for him to take. He put the box on his lap. It was quite heavy. A familiar smell came from inside. Oil; not just any oil. Gun oil.
‘It belonged to Winston. He was a collector of sorts. He shouldn’t have kept it but he couldn’t bear to give it up.’
The box was secured with thick string. Ben untied it and pulled off the lid. An oily cloth was wrapped around what was obviously a large hand gun. Ben took the cloth off. His pulse quickened as he took out the mint condition, model 500 Smith and Wesson Magnum revolver. ‘Good Lord!’ he said under his breath. ‘Where did he get this?’
‘Can’t say. He never told me.’
Ben also removed a box of 50 calibre hollow point cartridges. He removed one and turned it around in his fingers. It was a very big cartridge, so large in fact that the model 500 could only accommodate 5 of them. Ben lifted the huge weapon and opened the cylinder. It was empty.
‘You may need it,’ said Joy. ‘It’s not much good to me. Winston told me I wouldn’t be able to shoot it anyway. He said it would break my arm.’
‘He wasn’t kidding. This makes Dirty Harry’s .44 Magnum look like a water pistol.’
‘Just don’t tell anyone where you got it, OK?’
‘You had better hope the police don’t catch me with it,’ said
Ben. ‘I’m not authorised to carry a gun in Queensland or anywhere just now, especially a monster like this. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave it here locked up tight. If I need it for any reason, I’ll come by and pick it up.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Joy.
Ben wrapped up the huge gun and placed it back in the box. He put the cartridge box alongside and replaced the lid. ‘I’m going to have to find a way to get onto Skull Island and take a look around.’
‘That’s not going to be easy. The police told me they have already searched it when Winston first went missing.’
‘I’d like to have a look for myself, and I won’t be asking permission from anyone.’
‘I would be very grateful to you Ben.’
‘Ring me if you need to, OK?’
‘Thank you.’
‘Now, show me the tool collection.’
Ben headed back towards Port Douglas, loving the smooth Harley ride and the wind in his face. A small pair of bolt cutters sat in a side pannier of the bike. He cruised slowly past a high wire fenced enclosure on the western side of Wharf Road. There was no-one around. He noted several damaged vehicles parked against the front fence together with a beaten up old tractor. A large shipping container stood against the rear fence, secured with a heavy padlock. Winston’s timber boat lay on its side next to the container. It was the only boat in the yard.
Two security cameras were mounted on metal poles on each side of the high front fence. One faced the padlocked front gate on the northern end of the enclosure and the other was located on the front, southern corner and faced into the yard. The yard was obviously lit during the night. He would come back then.
Once in his room he called Susan to advise he was back. He then called Brenda’s room. Elizabeth answered.
‘It’s Ben. I’ve just arrived back.’
‘I’ll alert the media, if you haven’t already.’
‘That’s not fair. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.’
‘We need to talk. Derek is planning to take a team out on the diving platform tomorrow with the security guards you had Susan hire. He wants us to go along to check it out.’
‘What, all of us?’
‘No just you and me. Susan will stay here with Brenda. If everything is OK, they will start the underwater shooting the day after.’
‘OK. I’ve got some calls to make. I’ll drop over in an hour.’
‘No good. Derek and Sandra are about to do a scene with Brenda and the baddie in the resort set. Susan and I are keeping watch. Make it after 4.’
‘Am I invited to the set?’
‘You’ll distract her.’
‘She won’t even notice me.’
‘Want a bet.’
‘You said she was just flirting.’
Elizabeth paused for a few seconds. ‘I may have been wrong.’
‘But I…..’
‘Get some sun or something. Call us after 4.’ She hung up.
Ben sat on the lounge and gazed through the open window at the large resort pool. His mind was in turmoil. He was used to being in the driver’s seat; firmly in control. He was quickly getting out of his comfort zone.
He took the piece of paper Joy had given him from his shirt pocket and hit a speed dial number on the mobile phone.
‘Yana Gibson.’
‘Hi Lawyer.’
Silence.
‘Yana.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Oh oh. It’s in the Sydney paper too.’
‘Front bloody page.’
‘It’s not what it looks and we’re not having an affair.’
‘Funny; didn’t quite look that way to me.’
‘We were just going for a walk. I’m her security.’
‘Very close security from what I could tell.’
‘I promise. It’s not what the papers are making out. You know what the press does with stuff.’
‘I’m not jealous or angry or anything by the way.’
‘Of course not,’ said Ben, smiling.
‘I mean, why should I copper? We had one lousy night.’
‘Wasn’t lousy. It was great.’
‘You’re too old for me anyway.’
‘I’m hearing that a bit these days.’
‘I bet you are. Are you?’
“What?
‘Too old for her?’
‘Am I too old for you?’
Yana was quiet for a moment. ‘You’re moving this away from the main point.’
‘Listen. I’m too old for both of you….but I need some help.’
‘Why should I help you?’
‘Because you’re wild about me.’
‘But you’re too old for me.’
‘Will you let that go? I’m in a bit of trouble up here.’
‘I can see that. I’ll post up some Viagra if that will help.’
‘Yana!’
‘OK. I’m having my periods.’
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘Happens every month Ben. I’m not the only woman having them you know.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK. You want to tell me what trouble you’re in?’
‘I don’t know just yet. It’s not nice. I stopped three thugs attacking an old lady a couple of nights ago. Killed two of them and the third is in a coma.’
‘What….!’
‘It’s very complicated. I can’t explain over the phone.’
‘Ben. What the hell is going on up there? Are the police involved?’
‘They don’t know I’m involved yet.’
‘You silly bugger. Just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?’
‘I need a Queensland number plate checked.’
‘What….!’
‘You’re saying ‘what’ too much.
‘I could say a lot worse. How can I check a number plate?’
‘You’re a lawyer. You know you can do it. I don’t have any friends in the police who would do it.’
‘I’d be taking a huge risk.’
‘I need a name and address for this car Yana. It’s important. The police up here claim the car is owned by a farmer in Rockhampton, but I strongly feel otherwise.’
‘OK, give me the number, but I’m not promising anything.’
‘You are beautiful.’
‘And you are full of crap. Next time we train I’m going to whip your arse.’
‘In your dreams lawyer. Got a pen?’
Ben gave her the registration number.
‘I may get back to you or I may not.’
‘It’s urgent Yana.’
She hung up.
“****”
Chapter Twenty Seven