Vanishing Point

by Alan Moore

  Dr Williamson took the envelope, and without opening it, looked Petri eye to eye. He did not waver. ‘Very well. You obviously planned this confrontation. Your resignation is accepted with reluctance. We feel that you could have had a great future with this company, but you certainly need to learn patience and a few of the managerial skills you currently lack.’

  Petri gave an involuntary snort. Having made the decision, and assured of good references from others in the company and from some of the managers in those companies with which he had been involved with AGO joint ventures, he felt he could pass a few opinions of his own. He had already planned for the next step in his career and did not need references from men he no longer respected.

  ‘You may well be right, Colin, but in my opinion you could learn a great many managerial skills yourself.’

  ‘I think you’ve said enough.’ This time it was Chris, his Group Leader, who interrupted the flow. It was the only thing he’d said in the entire meeting.

  ‘Yes, you’re right for once,’ Petri responded angrily. ‘It is time for me to go. I’ll go at once, clear my office and send a copy of my resignation to salaries. There’s leave owing to me so I’ll take that as part of my required two weeks notice.’ With those parting words Petri Koivu stood, turned and left the room.

  The sun was just creeping up over the sand dunes, casting long morning shadows across the road and chasing the last moments of night, when Katherine and Alec finished their skimpy breakfast. Alec gave his wife a long, last hug and a lingering kiss, whispering in her ear, ‘I love you.’ He reluctantly disengaged himself, letting his hands slide down her body, feeling her soft curves beneath her pyjamas. ‘You were so good last night! I do so love you.’ Slowly, reluctantly he turned and headed across the road and into the bush.

  ‘See you soon,’ he called back to her as she waved.

  ‘Go carefully,’ she shouted, more loudly than she meant to disguise the quiver in her voice.

  ‘The scrub doesn’t go far,’ he shouted back. ‘In an hour or so I’ll be in wheat and sheep country so it’ll be quicker. It’s a good way to spend a Saturday!’

  ‘Good luck!’ Katherine called, quickly wiping a tear from her eye before waving once more to his departing back. Her good luck wish was quite sincere even though she felt certain that her husband would be back with help soon and they would be on their way once more.

  Carolyn’s crying inside the Kombi indicated her need for attention. Katherine reluctantly turned and entered the vehicle to lift her from the bassinette and check her nappy. She had slept soundly through the night, oblivious of the predicament in which the family found themselves.

  ‘Typical baby,’ muttered Katherine. ‘Totally dependent, totally unworried. Don’t you worry sweetheart, she’ll be right. We’ll take care of you.’

  Katherine removed the baby’s nappy liner before throwing the soiled nappy into a small bucket with a lid. She knew that rinsing the nappy would consume more of their precious water. It could wait until they got to Ceduna, smell or no smell. She cleaned and washed Carolyn using a minimal amount of water before powdering her dry. She put her gently on to the mattress of the fold-out bed and blew raspberries on her tummy, looking up to see the smile on her baby’s face. Carolyn’s arms and legs moved in jerky movements, testing their abilities. Katherine smiled to herself and at her baby.

  ‘I look forward to the day you will laugh when I do that. There’s nothing quite as infectious as the sound of a baby’s laugh!’

  Carolyn gurgled back as if she understood every word. Katherine sat on the edge of the bed and fed her happy child.

  Leaving her baby in the bassinette on the bed, she took the shovel and dug a hole in the loose sand near the fence, deep enough to bury the soiled liner and some other accumulated rubbish. She then put a match to it and watched the paper shrivel and burn, and the used tins scorch. When the flames finally died down she filled in the hole, leaving only the vaguest indication that someone had passed that way. Katherine settled her mind for a day on her own entertaining Carolyn and herself, knowing that it probably would be very similar to days spent around the Kombi while Alec was off collecting rocks.

  * * *

  Petri had very mixed emotions. AGO had been part of his working life since his graduation from the University of Western Australia five years previously. He was just twenty-one when he left with a first class Honours degree, one of the youngest but also one of the brightest students to do so. Petri was not only academically bright but also practical and, as a result, very successful in his chosen field of exploration geology. His father, a man of strong principles, would certainly have approved his actions, although he may have handled it more diplomatically.

  Anticipating the outcome of his negotiations with AGO management, Petri had put in place an alternative plan for his future. Although he knew geologists were in short supply and jobs easy to find he had no intention of leaving a well paid permanent position to land up looking for work. The discovery of the Lunnon Shoot nickel ore body in January, followed by further major discoveries in March, initiated a mineral exploration boom and anyone with a geology degree, or even a partial degree, could find a position in any one of the many new junior exploration companies being listed on the stock exchange almost daily. They sprang up overnight like mushrooms, some more reputable than others.

  When he decided that he might resign from AGO Petri made contact with the du Toit Group. It had come about through a chance meeting with Charl du Toit on one of the MMA flights from Kalgoorlie to Perth. Both men had been booked on the same flight only to find the aircraft delayed by yet another strike. During the annoying wait at the Kalgoorlie airport they had found themselves at the same table, sharing a drink. As happens under these circumstances they started chatting and du Toit was impressed with Petri.

  Charl du Toit was an entrepreneur extraordinaire, with expansive and expensive ideas. Through some creative accounting, favourable political associations and a knack of raising capital through the overheated share market, he was associated with some of the major exploration programs in both Western Australia and Queensland. While most small companies had joined the rush for nickel, du Toit had encouraged one of the companies in which he was a major shareholder, Spinifex Exploration N.L., to look for new styles of gold mineralisation.

  Just before the two men finally boarded the flight du Toit said, ‘I’ve enjoyed our yarn. If ever you decide you need a change of scenery give me a call. My direct line is on here. Please don’t spread it around as I don’t give this number to just anyone.’

  He handed Petri his business card. Until that moment Petri did not realise that the ‘Charlie’ he had been talking to was none other than the Charl du Toit, whose name so regularly featured in the press. As the frustrations accrued at AGO he eventually picked up the phone and made the call. He was surprised to find that, in spite of the time gap of several months, Charl du Toit not only remembered him but also arranged an informal luncheon meeting that turned into an interview with the General Manager of one of his companies, Fred Cooper. That was only one month prior to Petri’s meeting with his managers.

  Charl had left the luncheon meeting early but before leaving said, ‘If you decide to leave AGO we can put you on salary with Fred’s group or, if you prefer, organise a contract. Talk to Fred here, he’ll give you the details of what we can offer.’

  What Fred offered was a long-term contract with generous funding to develop models for new styles of gold mineralisation. The meeting with his managers had gone badly. Now was the time to accept.

  Petri made one last call from his old AGO Office. ‘Good morning, may I speak to Charl du Toit please … Yes, it’s Petri Koivu … Yes, I think Mr. du Toit will remember me.’

  After a brief pause he spoke again. ‘Good morning, Mr du Toit … Yes, I’ve finally made the decision … I resigned this morning. Is your offer of a contract still open?’

  The voice on the other end of the phone said a few words bef
ore Petri responded.

  ‘Good. Yes, thanks, Mr Cooper did give me an outline …’ He scribbled some notes on the pad in front of him. ‘Tomorrow morning at nine … Fine … I’ll be there … Yes, I know the place … Thanks … Yes, I am looking forward to it too … Thanks again. Bye.’

  Over the past month Petri had set in motion all the processes necessary to establish himself as a consulting geologist, working out of a small office in his home. He rented a house in Mount Pleasant, not quite overlooking the Canning River, but a very appealing environment nonetheless. His accommodation was comfortable for a bachelor, with a spare room for visitors and another for a small office. It was also conveniently located for ready access to the large Garden Centre shopping centre at Booragoon, rapid access across the Canning Bridge to the city, and to parklands for jogging.

  ‘A new week, a new job, a new life,’ Petri thought to himself as he climbed into his recently purchased four-wheel drive Toyota FJ40 Land Cruiser, started the engine and drove through Perth city. The car travelled down William Street, across the Narrows Bridge and along the recently opened freeway to Petri’s new office.

  * * *

  By the time Katherine had made herself something more to eat and drink, played a little with Carolyn and intermittently read pages of her novel, the sun was already high in the sky and the heat of the day penetrating the Kombi. She lay down for a sleep using the benefits of the peace and quiet while Carolyn slept. It took a while but she eventually dozed off, overcoming the permeating heat.

  Katherine woke to the incessant buzzing of flies, and the feeling that there should be more to be done than just sleeping and staying close to the grounded vehicle. Perhaps she could explore the surrounds. From the trip so far she knew that what appeared to be boring uniformity of desert, on closer inspection was full of surprising little delights: strange creatures, new flowers or unusual rocks. Each day she found something different.

  To shake off her lethargy, she picked up her happily gurgling child and headed off along the fence. Even though the sun was getting cooler, the red earth held the heat of the day and the still air remained an oppressive blanket.

  Suddenly, rustling shrubs disturbed the stillness. Katherine turned to see a small, spiralling willy-willy of wind and sand wind its way across the plain, tickling the shrubs as it wandered an erratic path through the fence and across the road. It passed close by and Katherine quickly turned her back, holding her baby protectively close to her, away from the swirling sand. The edges gently brushed them before, about a hundred metres further on, it collapsed into nothing but a whirring of ruffling leaves. The twisting fountain of wind had disappeared as fast as it had appeared, silently into nothing.

  A short distance down the track she came across an animal trap. Its powerful jaws had snapped shut on a dog, trapping its front leg about half way between the paw and the knee joint. The animal was dead, and apparently had been for some time because it no longer had the nauseating smell of rotting flesh. The flies, although present, did not form the usual impenetrable black cloud. The dry heat of the desert had partially mummified the remains but it was still clearly recognisable as a female dingo.

  Katherine knelt near the corpse. ‘You poor thing,’ she said quietly. She imagined the animal trotting through the scrub, on the lookout for possible prey, a small wallaby or a rabbit, to catch and feed to her pups. The old traditional hunting path, used for countless generations of dingos, was barred by something now: a fence. Settlers from the old world needed to define their boundaries and protect their exotic animals so they built miles and miles of wired, prison-like enclosures that kept creatures both in and out.

  Katherine imagined the dog trotting along the fence line barrier, looking for a way through. Suddenly, without warning, the jaws of the trap snapped shut. As her mind pictured the scenario, she looked closer at the trapped animal and realised that it must have taken a long time to die. In its desperate attempts to free itself it had almost chewed through its own leg. Above where the steel jaws had trapped it all the flesh had been torn away and the bone partly damaged, but the teeth marks were clear. Escape was impossible.

  Tears welled up in Katherine’s eyes. ‘What an awful way to die. How cruel these traps are. How can the men that set them be so unfeeling?’

  As if Carolyn could understand Katherine said to her baby, ‘I wonder if a human would do something like that if they were trapped and trying to escape. I wonder if a person would be prepared to undergo such pain in order just to live. I doubt it.’ She shuddered involuntarily. ‘The more I know of people, the more I like animals.’

  * * *

  Late in the afternoon, as the shadows lengthened, Katherine collected almost a full container of water from the pit and drained an equal amount from the little plastic bags on the branches of the surrounding vegetation. She collected a small pile of twigs and branches from the dead mulga trees near the fence to make a fire and cook her evening meal. She broke the twigs and stacked them over crumpled paper, ready to light a cooking fire. Her planned meal consisted of a few tins of baked beans, some tinned vegetables and a steak and onion mix from the remaining food in the Kombi. She took out the tins, ready for her own meal, but first fed Carolyn so she could eat without being interrupted by a hungry cry.

  After feeding and changing Carolyn she was about to start her own meal when she heard the faint noise of a vehicle. Katherine climbed out of the Kombi and looked up and down the track. The noise was quite distinct but she could not decide which direction it was coming from. She took a few steps into the track and squinted her eyes westward, using her hand as a shield. It was the direction from which Alec would return. Her heart lifted.

  Nothing but the long shadows from the sun low in the sky could be seen. She turned east to see a small dust cloud moving slowly towards her. A vehicle, at last. It wasn’t Alec, but it was someone.

  Katherine heard the steady throb of the engine coming closer. A four-wheel drive diesel engine makes a noise very different from the higher pitch, distinctive throaty whine of their Kombi. As the vehicle drew nearer Katherine recognised it as a Land Rover, so familiar with its functional design. It was a utility and towing a small, two wheeled trailer. A fine dust plume trailed the pair.

  As it approached the Kombi Katherine raised her hand in greeting. The driver slowed the vehicle, changed gear down and pulled up in a whirl of dust. Katherine turned her body away. By holding her hands over her face she shielded her nose and eyes until the cloud of dust accompanying, and now overtaking the vehicle, had settled. The driver had his window open and seemed oblivious to the mini-sandstorm he had created. He looked at Katherine but appeared expressionless and said nothing as she dropped her hand and turned to face him.

  ‘G’day.’ Katherine opened the conversation with the standard country greeting.

  ‘G’day. How ya goin’?’

  ‘Not so good. We broke down and are a bit stuck.’

  ‘Well, ya got good weather for it.’

  ‘It would be good if we weren’t stuck. I can’t appreciate the weather or anything else because of worrying about what’s wrong with our Kombi and getting back to Adelaide.’

  ‘Adelaide! In that! Jeez, woman, what ya thinking of out here alone in one of those an’ on these tracks?’

  ‘Oh, no, I’m not alone. Or rather, actually I am just at present because my husband has gone to get help in Ceduna. We waited here for a while, but there’s so little traffic that he decided to walk there cross-country.’

  ‘How long ya been here? When did he go?’

  ‘He left early this morning. Reckon he’ll be back with help tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, if he left this morning he won’t be back for a day or so, this bin a weekend, like. Late t’morrow at best. Would ya like me ta give ya a ride ta the main road and ya can hitch in to town?’

  ‘Thanks for the offer but I’ve got a little baby in the Kombi. I can’t really hitch a ride or risk not getting one with a baby.’

&nbs
p; ”Strewth, woman, are ya mad? Got a bubs out ‘ere. In that!’ The driver’s tone reflected his obvious incredulity.

  Katherine looked embarrassed. The stranger had voiced the same opinions as her mother, and now her guilt welled up inside her. She looked down at her feet and shuffled them in the sand. ‘Yes, I know. I must have been off my head. Now this has happened I admit it was pretty dumb.’

  The driver climbed out of his vehicle and walked over to the Kombi. Once out of the driver’s seat Katherine was surprised at his size. He was as bulky as a large sack of potatoes and stood at least six foot tall. Katherine took in his appearance and made a snap judgement. He seemed all right; probably in his early forties with the look of a man from the land. His leathery and tanned face matched his brown eyes in colour. Distinct stubble indicated that at least a couple of days had passed since the last shave. His hair, still dark, had a few streaks of grey and was thinning. In a few more years he would have the typical partial atoll of hair surrounding the island pate of the balding. He looked like a man used to hard physical work and, although dusty, his clothes did not smell stale and unwashed. On the man’s right arm, just above the elbow, was a small, geometric pattern tattoo. Katherine always felt you could judge a man by his hands and his were broad with short fingers, almost podgy. Katherine was sure this indicated a streak of stubbornness, probably a practical person with little creativity.

  Leaning his hand on the vehicle he peered inside the two central open side doors of the Kombi. Carolyn lay on the open back seat, propped up with two pillows and happily gurgling. Katherine came up behind the man and joined him in the examination of the interior.

  ‘They are so sweet when they’re happy,’ she said. ‘Her name is Carolyn and she is just over four months. She’s such a good baby.’

  The driver pulled back, almost knocking Katherine over. ‘Sorry. I’m Benjamin. Benjamin, not Ben.’