by Nick Hawkes
Benjamin was fiddling with the parts of a dismembered three-jawed chuck on the bench in front of him. “The thing is, do you think there is any chance this could be a revenge thing organized by Felicity’s ex? Have we stirred up a fight?”
“No, mate. By the sound of it, the thief made a bit of a mess and nicked a computer and a camera. There’s not enough damage to signify anything vindictive.” Archie closed the hatchway and secured it with the bolt. “It’s just someone looking for money to feed a habit. How’s Flick coping?”
Benjamin passed a hand across his mouth and wrestled with how much he should say.
“Hmm…There’s, er…another possibility.”
Benjamin’s diffidence succeeded in getting Archie’s attention. As Benjamin searched for the right words, Archie prompted him. “I think you should tell me what’s going on, young Benji.”
“Felicity has been digging around, researching the idea that the Portuguese first landed here in the early sixteenth century. She believes the mahogany ship spoken of by early settlers near Warrnambool was one of the Portuguese ships. Anyway, she’s recently found a stone on the sea floor that proves they were here. The thing is, there are some people who seem fairly interested in this whole thing for some reason.”
Archie nodded. “And who would these people be?”
“The Khayef Group.”
“The mob that’s been in and out of the news in the last year?”
“Have they?”
“Yeah. They’re behind a massive development on Sydney Harbour.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but they seem pretty interested in Felicity’s research.” Benjamin shrugged. “Felicity not only had her computer and external hard drives stolen but also a stone…” He paused as he remembered Felicity’s tears of anguish at discovering that her Atlantis stone had been stolen. She had wept and remonstrated with herself until he had enfolded her in his arms and calmed her. “It was really important for her research because it proves a Portuguese connection with Australia.” He pursed his lips. “And there were other more valuable things in the house that were untouched.”
“Well mate, there are two options. It was either an amateurish jerk looking for a bit of extra money who didn’t have the bottle to ransack the whole house…”
“Or?”
“Or a professional who wanted the information that Felicity had.” Archie’s bleak eyes regarded Benjamin. “Fingerprints?”
“Too early to say. The police had started dusting for prints when I left. Sergeant Anderson did let slip that the handles on the filing cabinet had been wiped clean.”
Archie nodded slowly. “Then the signs are not good, Benji boy.” He pulled out a matchstick and started to chew it. “Someone wants Flick’s computer…and that could be a bit of a concern.” The matchstick bobbled up and down. “You say that she’d made a connection with early Portuguese explorers?”
“Yes, but I’d be grateful if you kept that to yourself, at least until Felicity knows how she’s going to handle it.”
“Before I promise that, mate, I need to make a phone call.”
Archie pushed himself off the bench and sauntered to the back door.
Benjamin watched him leave. What on earth did he mean by that? He chewed his lip. Too many disturbing things were happening…and his spirit was screaming at him to be careful.
Benjamin looked around for something to do and settled on the task of stepping up his security. He picked up an empty paint tin and went out through the back door. He could see Archie by the woodshed speaking into his mobile. Over by the bushes, a willy-wagtail was proclaiming its authority. Chitta, chitta, chitta. He stared at it briefly as it swung its tail from side to side…and shivered. The little bird had the teasing habit of flying just a few paces away when you came close to it and wagging its tail, almost daring you to follow it. It was said that its antics had enticed babies to crawl after it—beyond the edge of the camp, where dingoes could snatch them. Whether or not this was true, the story had earned the bird a terrible nickname, “the devil bird.”
Benjamin turned away; watching the devil bird wasn’t a good omen for the future. He walked over to the fence where most of the posts were encrusted with white Italian snails. The shells of dead snails lay scattered around the bottom of the posts. Benjamin went from post to post, scooping up the empty shells into the tin. Then he made his way to the path between the workshop and the fence, and scattered the shells on the ground. If anyone walked down the path, the tiny crushed shells would tell him that they had been there.
Next, he checked that the strong anchor strands spun by the orb web-spinner spider outside the kitchen window were in place. Each night, the spider would spin a beautiful net between these strands. Benjamin had encouraged it to do so by placing a light to attract insects by the window. A broken web could tell you a lot.
Archie ambled across to him. He nodded approval when he understood what Benjamin was doing. “Mate,” he said, “could you give Flick a call and see if it’s okay for us to pick her up in half an hour? There’s someone we need to visit.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely forthcoming about my reasons for first coming to see you, Benjamin.” Marjorie lay back against the pillows on her bed and smiled weakly. The curtains were drawn and the resultant gloom highlighted the pale, waxy pallor of her face. Archie, Felicity, and Benjamin were seated around the high brass bed in chairs that had been borrowed from the dining room. Behind them, an indomitable-looking woman, who had been introduced to them as Phoebe, came and went with cups of tea, staying only to insert an extra pillow behind Marjorie. “It’s not one of her good days,” Phoebe had said to them.
Marjorie continued. “My exchanges with you, Benjamin, were entirely authentic and, I must say, very enjoyable.” She pointed toward the dining room. “Your candlesticks look good, don’t you think?”
Benjamin nodded.
“Aah…where to begin?” Marjorie closed her eyes. “You have probably heard that the Dutchman, Willen Janszoon, was the first European to discover Australia. He encountered it in his ship, Duyfken, because he failed to turn north quickly enough after rounding the Cape of Good Hope. He was heading to Batavia, modern-day Jakarta, the center of the spice trade.” She pulled at her pillow. “His was the first of rather a lot of Dutch ships that bumped into Western Australia, most with disastrous consequences. We estimate that over two hundred Europeans made it ashore because we can pick up sequences of their genetic code in that of the local Aboriginals, sequences that could only have come from Europe.
A lot of indigenous Australians have had their genetics mapped. It became necessary in order to prove who had rights to royalties from mining companies working on indigenous land.” She flopped a hand over toward Benjamin. “That includes you, Benjamin. You must have given a saliva swab when you were a child.”
Marjorie turned her head back on the pillow. “I hope this doesn’t come as too much of a shock…but you, Benjamin, have a sequence in your genetic code that could only have come from Portugal. It’s come from your father’s side. And as best as I can determine, you are the only one in Australia who has it.” She smiled. “You are, in fact, living proof that the Portuguese visited Australia well before the Dutch discovered it in 1606.”
Felicity leaned forward. “Miss Eddington…”
“Marjorie, please.”
“…Benjamin and I have recently found something from the seafloor off Warrnambool that also proves that the Portuguese were here.” Felicity bit her lip. “But it’s just been stolen from me. Is there a connection?”
“You found a stone, I believe, dear.”
Felicity nodded.
“I’m afraid there is a connection—and that’s why I asked Archie to bring you here.”
Benjamin looked at Archie as a faint suspicion started to form in his mind.
“Yes, Benjamin, I’m afraid that your first meeting with Archie was not as much of an accident as you might have thought. He’s been m
inding your back for a while, now.” Marjorie sighed. “Perhaps I should explain. Archie, Phoebe, and I have been employed from time to time by ASIO—although the official status of this particular exercise is a little uncertain. Technically, we are all retired. Archie, particularly, should be retired because of his post traumatic stress.” She smiled at him. “But he keeps proving too useful. I brought him in when I began to see which way the wind was blowing.”
Benjamin cleared his throat. “And what way is the wind blowing, Marjorie? Is Felicity in any danger?”
“I fear she may be. I heard of the burglary…and that was enough for me to show my hand.” She began coughing. Phoebe immediately came to her side, gave her a drink of water, and settled her down.
“I apologize,” said Marjorie. She closed her eyes and continued to speak. “A very secret treaty was stolen from Britain’s National Archives at Kew. It was potentially dangerous legally, so it was never allowed to be copied. This means that if the document surfaces—as I very much fear it will—it will be impossible for the British to prove it is their stolen treaty.” She paused and breathed deeply before continuing. “Two other copies once existed. One, we know, was destroyed. The other has never been found. The thieves will simply claim it is the other.”
Benjamin glanced at Felicity. A furrow was forming on her brow. He turned back to Marjorie. “Marjorie, I think Felicity knows a bit about this treaty. She may have something to add.”
Felicity did not reply as he expected. She put a hand to her forehead. “Oh no! It can’t be.” She turned to Benjamin. “The treaty, of course! Benjamin…is a proven descendant of the original discoverers. That would mean…he has rights over any gold.” She turned a questioning look to Marjorie. “Is that right?”
“That’s it exactly, my dear.” She smiled. “You’ve made the connection.”
“Oh,” Felicity exclaimed weakly. She leaned forward with a hand over her heart. “Then…then that means…Benjamin could be in danger.”
“I’m afraid so. Which is why you are all here.”
“But…what gold? What gold am I meant…” Benjamin shook his head in bewilderment. “…to have rights over?”
Marjorie tilted her head back on the pillow. She was obviously running out of energy. Felicity leaned forward and took her hand. Marjorie smiled. “Can you tell him, dear?”
“I…I think so.” Felicity moistened her lips. “The rough draft of the treaty’s content has been made known in a PhD that’s recently been submitted.” She reached back and picked up her shoulder bag. “I’ve still got the text of it in my bag.” Felicity pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it. “It says that anyone finding gold will be exempt from paying taxes on any of the gold that stays in the country in which it’s found.” She looked up. “This was presumably to ensure that there were plenty of funds available locally to pay for the mining venture.” She ran her finger along the writing and then read out loud: “…have rightful claim on any gold found within sixty leagues of their point of landing. This right shall extend to the descendants of those who discover the land—if they can prove lineage.” She looked up at Benjamin. “And you can prove lineage.”
Benjamin rubbed his forehead. “Who else knows about this?”
Phoebe, who had been standing in the background, said brusquely, “A computer storing a summary of the results of the genetic testing of indigenous Australians was hacked into six months ago. We have to assume that information about Mr. Bidjara is known.”
Archie flexed his shoulders. His hands were deep in the pockets of his camouflage jacket, as if to restrain himself from bursting out like a coiled spring. “The fact that someone has tried to kill you, Benjy boy, is a fair indication of that.”
“What!” exclaimed Felicity. She turned to Benjamin and stared at him. “When? You didn’t tell me that!”
Benjamin shrugged apologetically. “It was the…um, little fracas, the break-in that the police were investigating at my place.”
“I thought it was just a burglary.”
“No. A gun was involved…but the police didn’t want that widely known.”
“Oh,” she said weakly.
Benjamin turned back to Marjorie. “How far is sixty leagues?”
Phoebe answered in Marjorie’s stead. “A league could be a Portuguese maritime league, but it is more likely to be a geometric league—the equivalent of 2.67 nautical miles. So we’re talking about three hundred kilometers, roughly.”
Marjorie nodded her thanks to Phoebe. “You now know why Phoebe is so indispensable to me.” She smiled. “Do go on, dear.”
Phoebe blew out her cheeks. “A distance of that radius from Warrnambool would include all of Victoria’s main gold mining areas—certainly the golden triangle of Stawell, Ballarat and Bendigo.”
“Is gold still mined there today?” asked Benjamin.
“Yes, both alluvial and quartz body mining is still being carried out. One mine aims to produce three million tonnes of ore in the next ten years. With ten grams per tonne of high grade gold, that’s roughly one million ounces. And with gold at 1,232 US dollars per ounce, that’s about 1.3 billion dollars.”
“That’s just one mine?”
“Yes but a good one.”
“How many are there?”
“One company owns most of the tenements. It has five mines and two processing sites.”
“And which company is that?”
Felicity broke in and said tiredly, “The Khayef Group.”
Phoebe nodded. “And if they can avoid paying corporate tax, minerals resources tax, and state royalties, they gain an extra forty-two percent profit.”
Archie whistled.
Marjorie broke in. “So, my dears, we need to take care until I can scare ASIO into a little more action.” She patted Felicity’s hand. “And we need to keep both you and Benjamin free from harm.” She smiled at her. “The very last thing Khayef want is for you to prove there is a Portuguese connection with Victoria. If you proved that, and also presented Benjamin, you would destroy their ability to mine gold free of taxes. Technically, all the gold would belong to Benjamin.”
Benjamin passed a hand over his head. “Good grief.”
Felicity dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “But what can we do? They’ve taken the Atlantis stone…”
“What’s that, dear?”
“That’s the name Benjamin gave to the stone, the one we found that proves the Portuguese came to Warrnambool.” Felicity sniffed. “It was such a fabulous find…an amazing historical breakthrough. It’s heart-breaking to have lost it…” Felicity lowered her head. “It’s wretched to think…they’ve stolen my computer, my camera, my backup hard drives, my files…everything…and Benjamin is in as much danger as ever.”
“And so are you, dear,” said Marjorie. “Whilst Benjamin remains alive, they will be concerned that you don’t find anything else proving a Portuguese connection.”
Benjamin looked up to the ceiling. A faint breeze caused the dried remains of a fly to shiver in a spider’s web on the lampshade. He watched it. Was he a fly or was he a spider? What did his instincts tell him? Could he see through his anger and the emotion he felt for Felicity? He sat with his head bowed, waiting.
The fly was dead. The spider was not.
He sat up, squared his shoulders, and said, “There is a chance that Felicity can put a spanner in Khayef’s plans.”
“What?” said Felicity, spinning around.
Benjamin faced her. “Didn’t you tell me that you had a fair idea where the other copy of the treaty is, the one Khayef claims to have—the one in Sardinia?”
Silence hung in the room as the beginnings of hope began to stir.
Marjorie turned her head. “Do tell me about it, dear.”
Felicity recounted how she had become convinced that the real Sardinian treaty was inside the statue of the elephant in Cagliari. She trailed off. “If we could get it, it would change everything. The police would have proof that Khayef’
s treaty was the stolen British copy.”
Marjorie turned her head. “Archie?”
Archie rubbed his chin. “Could be doable. I’d probably need to take Felicity with me so I could navigate any historical issues.”
“I’d like you to take Benjamin too, so you can keep him out of harm’s way for a while.” Marjorie looked at Felicity and smiled. “How would you and Benjamin like to spend some time in Sardinia? Phoebe and I will sort out the paperwork and organize the funding.”
Benjamin raised a questioning eye to Felicity. Her lips were pressed together, and she was looking pale. She gave a single nod and lowered her head.
“We’ll go,” he said, “as long as we don’t do anything that might put Felicity in danger.”
“Good,” said Marjorie. She turned to Archie. “Archie, it has to be you who leads the team. You understand risks and can assess danger.”
Archie nodded, accepting it in much the same way as if he’d been asked to nip down to the corner store and buy a carton of milk.
“That’s fine, then, dears.” She turned to Benjamin. “Do you have a passport?”
“Er, no!”
“See Phoebe about it before you go. She’ll take your photograph and, if you email your details later today, she will get your application fast-tracked. Expect to leave within a week.” Marjorie lay back and folded her hands together. However she had not finished speaking. “Benjamin,” she said, “when are you planning to travel up north?”
Benjamin blinked in surprise. He’d only finished making plans to head up to the Kimberley the previous day. “Um…I’ll be going up the day after tomorrow but only for two days.”
Marjorie nodded her approval. “I’m pleased to hear it. Come and see me when you get back.” She closed her eyes. “Stay safe, all of you. I’ll be praying for you.”
Some minutes later, Benjamin, Archie, and Felicity took their leave. As they walked out to the ute, Benjamin murmured, “Archie, you wouldn’t by any chance possess a taser?”