Christine looked quite distressed. “But who could it be? If it’s not connected with the fraud at the construction site, and it’s not a case of mistaken identity, then who else is left?”
“Well, I’ve wracked my brains. There is certainly nothing in my private life that could give rise to such antagonism. It has to be something connected with my work.”
“What about that horrible man in the YouTube clip. He looks like he would be capable of almost anything, and he certainly didn’t like you.”
“Ah! Toby Jones. Yes, I did stir him up more than I should have. He would have been a prime suspect but the YouTube event was after the attempt on my life, not before. In any case Mister Toby Jones is now in Queensland’s witness protection scheme. He is going to testify against the Comancheros. No, I don’t think that Toby was responsible.”
Christine was certainly persistent and had obviously been thinking about the various possibilities. “What about jealousy or rivalry amongst other Gibson Construction people. You are very young for the job. I can imagine that there were some noses put out of joint when you were appointed.”
I gazed at her in surprise, she was demonstrating real perspicacity. “You are right. There were some very upset people when I was appointed, including the Project Manager with whom I have a poor working relationship. But, after thinking about that possibility in some depth I have ruled it out. No, I don’t think that jealousy or rivalry would have been a sufficient motive.”
“Well what about something that happened on another construction site that you had worked on before Red Rock?”
I smiled, she was not going to give up. She had a logical mind and her instincts, like mine, were telling her that there had to be an answer. “The Mount Godwin Mine. I worked there for three months before I got the Red Rock job. That is where my thinking keeps on coming back to. There was a major robbery there on the day that I left Mount Godwin about eight months ago. Three innocent people were killed.”
She was aghast. “What! Three people murdered. I never heard of that happening.”
“Well you were in the UK. It was big news here of course.”
She looked like she was still curious so I explained, “The robbery took place a few hours after me and my men had left. I saw nothing then and heard nothing later.”
“But there has to be a connection. What are the chances that two such extraordinary events take place in your life without them being connected? It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“I agree. But I just can’t see any connection.”
“Tell me about the robbery. I have never heard of a gold mine in Australia being robbed before. Is it common? I mean has it happened before?”
I responded, “Well I can’t say that it is common but there has been a history of gold mines being robbed going back to the eighteen hundreds when gold mining began in Australia. Not just gun fights between competing gold prospectors in the gold-rush days, but sophisticated stealing of partially-processed gold-bearing material from major mining operations. For example way back in 1893 the Mount Morgan Mine, inland from Rockhampton, experienced a major drop in gold recovery. Immediately prior to that discovery they had been making money hand-over-fist. So much so that extravagant management practices were rife. Management’s focus was famously on the protection of the miners lives at the expense of product security. This laxity led to opportunities for dishonest workers. Gold bearing material was pilfered at several of the processing stages. Being such a valuable, easily-concealable and marketable commodity, gold was an enticing target for thieves. By the time they caught the culprits it was estimated that gold to the value of more than $1 million, in today’s currency, was stolen.”
“Since they caught the guilty persons I assume that they recovered at least some of the stolen gold.”
“Not much. A few caches were found around the mine site for the next ten years, but only a small portion was recovered. The police spent months investigating and even hired a private investigator from Sydney who went ‘undercover’ as a worker at the mine. Eventually his information led to the arrest of ten men, several of whom were highly respected Rockhampton citizens. But that was not the end of it. Most of the men arrested were eventually set free as the jury decided that there was not sufficient proof. The Judge later said that he agreed with the verdict but still had a strong suspicion that they were guilty. Some of those who were convicted later got released on appeal because the undercover operative, employed by the mine, had encouraged them to steal. The Court Hearing was a big news story in its day.”
Christine was looking at me with a look of surprise. “How is it that you are so well informed? That all happened a hundred years ago.”
I shrugged. “When I was questioned about the Mount Godwin robbery I became curious about the security of gold at gold mines and later spent some time searching the internet for information about failures of gold mine security.”
“But the Mount Morgan robbery was more than a hundred years ago. What about today? Security must be a lot better.”
“It certainly is. Computerised tracking of the gold contained in the ore through the various processing stages can quickly highlight any siphoning off of gold-bearing work-in-process. I see that the main risk today is theft of the final product. Just imagine the temptation to would-be thieves. A medium sized gold mine in a remote area, like Mount Godwin or Red Rock, could produce gold worth more than $120 million each year. Almost $2.5 million per week. This can be accumulated for several weeks, perhaps a month or more, before it is collected for delivery to a refinery. So, in a remote area without any local police, there could be a stockpile of gold worth more than $10 million sitting in a vulnerable location.”
She shook her head in wonderment. “But that must be a serious temptation to unscrupulous thieves.”
I nodded. “I agree. It’s not just the gold that is at risk. The tragedy is that it can put lives in jeopardy as happened at the Mount Godwin Mine.”
“Well, if Mount Godwin robbers could kill three people who happened to get in their way then they would not hesitate to drown you if they thought that you were a threat to them somehow. Surely there can’t be so many callous killers in Australia that the two events are unconnected.”
I had been wondering that very point myself, but the taking of human life during criminal activity was no longer the rare event that it used to be. “I don’t know about in Australia, but in Mexico recently, four gold mine workers were kidnapped and later found dead. They had all been tortured to death. Ten days later a masked gang descended on the gold mine and stole $15 million worth of gold. It is assumed that the thieves used insider information that they had obtained from the four dead workers.
The increasing rate that gold mines are being robbed is a worldwide phenomenon. There have been a number in the past few months in Canada, South Africa and Russia.”
Christine stopped sipping her coffee and commented. “But if the Commission do report the attempt on your life to the police it would be a step in the right direction, wouldn’t it?”
“Not necessarily. At first I thought that the downside was that the police would not take me seriously and write me off as an attention-seeker. But if the police do accept that an attempt had been made on my life they would then try to work out why I was attacked. They would probably conclude that the criminals believe that I know something that endangers them. Things might get a little complicated at that point.”
Christine was puzzled. “How? How could that complicate things?”
“Well, since I deny having any knowledge that would put the criminals at risk then the police might consider the possibility that I was lying. And why would I lie? The obvious answer being that I am an accomplice.”
“But if that was so then why would the criminals want to kill an accomplice?” She paused and snapped her fingers and answered her own question with a wide grin. “Because they don’t want to share the loot. Or they think that you might squeal to the cops.”
She was definitely looking worried and asked, “So what will you do?”
I shrugged. “Nothing more than I am doing now. I am being more careful when I’m at the marina. Brian has provided me with webcams to monitor my yacht and living quarters at the mine. Both locations are set up with a siren that I can set off remotely if the webcam shows an intruder when I am not around.”
She laughed and then stopped abruptly. “Sorry. It just seems so funny, you and Brian thinking up all that spy stuff.”
I chuckled and tried to look offended. “Kate didn’t laugh. She said that we were acting like we were in a Hardy Boys adventure.” Then with tongue in cheek I added. “I thought that she meant it as a compliment.”
Christine laughed a bit longer this time. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
We both laughed. I looked at my watch, we had spent more than an hour talking over our coffee. It was time to get driving again.
***
On the last leg to North Sydney we talked about Christine’s upcoming interview for a position as a Paediatrician at the Royal North Shore Hospital and her need for accommodation. When Kate would move after the honeymoon my apartment would be vacant. Since I had no intention of renting it out again I offered Christine the use of my apartment rent free until I required it in about six months time. I argued that I needed a house-sitter and someone to drive my car from time to time. It had been a good deal for her and she was comfortable that the arrangement had no strings attached. It also meant that she would be next door to Kate and Brian.
I spent the night in the spare room of Brian’s apartment. Since it was time for me to move out I packed up all my belongings so that I could store them in the second bedroom in my apartment the following day.
***
Saturday January 2
Cairns, Queensland
We caught the ten twenty Qantas flight from Sydney the following morning, and arrived in Cairns at one thirty. I had booked Christine in at the Mantra Esplanade, a few minutes walk from the marina where I would be staying overnight.
After dropping her off at the hotel to check in, I continued on in the taxi to the marina to open up ‘Irish Mist’ and drop off my bags. On the way to my berth I had met up with some other boat owners and had chatted longer than I had intended. Most of the conversation was centred on the absence of damage to the marina arising from cyclone Abby’s near miss the week before. Just as I was about to disengage myself from the conversation one of them, a man called Roger Gray, asked me if my boat was for sale. I had shaken my head and said, “No. Why do you ask?”
Roger replied, “There were a couple of guys standing on the jetty looking at ‘Irish Mist’ about a month ago. As I walked past I thought that they looked a bit shifty so I asked them if I could help in any way. One of them responded by asking if your boat was for sale. I told them I didn’t think so but they didn’t even wait until I replied, They just left. It was all very odd. They didn’t look at all friendly. Strangely enough I think that I saw them a few months ago. They were giving your boat the once over from the jetty then too. I thought that they looked like they were police. But I’d be surprised if they are locals.”
As he was speaking Christine approached along the jetty and waved as I caught sight of her. I excused myself, picked up my bags and waited for Christine to reach me before I resumed walking to my marina berth. As I stood aside for Christine to walk past me Roger grinned at me and rolled his eyes. I think that he was acknowledging that Christine was a beautiful woman. I wasn’t about to argue with him.
***
Christine and I had already planned what was left of our afternoon. First we would spend a few hours sailing and motoring on board ‘Irish Mist’. Then return in time for a drive around some of the northern beaches before it got dark.
The first part of our plan worked out perfectly. A crisp onshore breeze helped ‘Irish Mist’ hustle out towards the open sea and sail past the various beaches until we reached Double Island. It had been Christine’s first experience on a yacht and she loved it. Consequently we discarded the plan to immediately turn for home, and instead continued to head northwards. Eventually, somewhere offshore from Port Douglas, we gybed and headed back towards Cairns.
As we completed the turn and reset the sails I suddenly realised where we were. Without thinking I leaned forward and checked the GPS. Christine saw me look at the GPS and then glance around at the sea. “What is it?” she asked. Almost immediately her face clouded. “Is this where it happened?”
I nodded. “Sorry, I did not mean to even think about anything negative today.” I swept an arm to encompass the empty sea and the distant shore. “We are almost exactly at the spot where I climbed back on board.”
We were both silent for several minutes. All that could be heard was the soft murmur of water flowing past the hull of the yacht. The most relaxing sound for any yachtsman. It worked for me again. A few minutes later and my spirits lifted. Christine also seemed to put aside the negative thoughts and relax in the present.
Apart from the reminder of my long swim. it had been a pleasant, relaxing sail. Just enough of a breeze to keep us moving smartly without being strong enough to create a significant swell. When the breeze began to weaken, and the light was beginning to fade, I started the motor, dropped the sails and switched on the navigation lights.
It was almost ten o’clock when ‘Irish Mist’ eventually entered its berth and was tied up. Knowing that getting a meal downtown was a little problematical at that hour we opted for a meal of tinned soup and canned fruit while sitting in the cockpit looking at the stars.
Almost two hours later we walked back to Christine’s hotel and had a late night coffee delivered by room service. The main topic of conversation was the travel arrangements for the following day. I had driven my 4WD down to Cairns before I had caught the flight to Sydney on Christmas Eve. We would drive back to Red Rock tomorrow, departing at around ten o’clock.
As I said goodnight Christine gave me a hug, kissed my cheek and said that it had been a perfect day.
I agreed with her.
Walking back to the marina, I thought about the two men who had been standing on the jetty looking at ‘Irish Mist’. It had to be significant. I should have asked Roger for a description of the men. When I saw him next I would do just that.
***
Monday January 4
Red Rock Project Site
It was around six o’clock on Monday morning when I stepped around the traffic barrier, waved to the gatekeeper and exited the mine site. The sky was rapidly becoming lighter as I headed towards the sun slowly rising above the horizon. There was a hint of mist in the air, and an energising chill that belied the hot day to come.
I clicked my GPS stopwatch and started down the road at a modest clip. It was my normal start to a day. I’d run out to the four kilometre mark, then turn around and come back. Eight kilometres at four minutes a kilometre, followed by ten minutes of stretching while I cooled down before a hot shower.
If this had been a normal day, in an hour from now I’d be queuing for breakfast and by seven thirty I’d be seated in my office checking on my to-do list for the day. But today was not a normal day. As soon as I was showered I would meet up with Christine who had been quartered in a donga near mine. We would then have breakfast together and get ready for a flight back to Cairns at eleven o’clock. We would have lunch in town before I would escort her to the Cairns airport where she would catch the three o’clock flight to Sydney.
We had driven up from Cairns the previous day. Even though my vehicle was air-conditioned it had still been a hot and dusty ride. After stopping at Mareeba for lunch we had arrived on site at two thirty. By three o’clock she had been issued wit
h a photo ID card, a hard hat plus khaki denim work trousers and shirt. As soon as she was allocated sleeping quarters for the night she had dropped her bag off and got changed into her new work clothes. The rest of the afternoon was spent touring the construction site.
Christine was quite familiar with the general layout of the mine site due to her having logged in to the webcam feeds during the past few weeks. Like me she was keen to see the cutting and check if the rainfall runoff was still flowing. It was.
At this time of year, the summer wet season, even occasional showers would maintain the myriad of small streamlets across the catchment area. The flow through the cutting was now only about ten centimetres deep but quite small showers could markedly increase the runoff albeit only briefly.
Yesterday was a Sunday, the last day of the Christmas to New Year break. Consequently there were the minimum number of workers on site and we had few interruptions as we walked around the site.
Today was the first day after the Christmas to New Year break. The first big influx of workers was due to arrive on the first Fly-In-Fly-Out flight of the year soon after breakfast.
Even though it was not just another routine day my early morning run was at least one act of normalcy. But that was not to last for much longer.
I was about two kilometres into my run when I first became aware of the sound of a vehicle approaching me from behind. I was not concerned as I was running on the right hand side of the road so as to face any oncoming traffic. Even so I shifted as far to the right as I could to give the driver the maximum road width possible. It was a reflex action as, although it was now quite light, the driver’s vision might be impeded by the rising sun.
I later recalled idly wondering who the driver might be as early morning traffic from the mine site was uncommon. But I was not curious enough to look around to see who it might be.
Smoking Gun (Adam Cartwright Trilogy Book 1) Page 20