They came to dread the heat of each afternoon, and the cold nights that came with darkness. Time had never seemed to pass so slowly. They ran out of conversation after the first week. Todd had little to offer except complaints. Luke, with no-one to talk to, realised he’d have known nothing about what had gone on here if it had not been for his friendship with Yuri Nakamura. And even the Japanese specialist, a world leader in the treatment of radiation, had never been fully informed. But because of their close association over many years since meeting in Tokyo, and Yuri’s feeling that he must share what he knew, he had chosen to confide in Luke. And unfortunately a little knowledge had proved a dangerous thing. Luke’s rush to expose what had happened here had led to him being stuck in this concrete cell, feeling futile and enraged by the things he’d learned. A book should be written to reveal what had gone on here. He could only console himself by promising that if he ever got out of this bloody place it would be. But as the days slowly passed, and a week became two, then three weeks, he no longer had much faith in this being possible. The cowboy who ran the police seemed to have unlimited power. The real authority here had no knowledge of their imprisonment, that is if there still was anyone in real authority. More worrying still, no-one outside would know of their predicament.
During the nights when he barely slept, he spent his time trying to speculate on what might happen. He tried to fight off depression. It was vital to be optimistic. Pessimism was defeat. He told himself the warrant officer was all brag and bluster. Full of bombast, he decided, and in the morning told Todd this in an attempt to cheer him into a semblance of optimism.
“Think about it, mate. He can fine us for the permit,” Luke said, “and don’t worry about that, because I can raise the necessary dosh.”
“What the hell is dosh?” was Todd’s reply.
“Pommy slang for money. So cheer up. This mad sergeant major has bugger-all to charge us with. Nothing we’ve done could be called criminal. Apart,” he added, “from telling a few lies about knowing Mrs Morrison and the Pastor. But that’s only a misdemeanour, hardly a serious crime. It’d be chucked straight out of court, and Woodridge with it.”
“You could be right,” Todd answered without a smile. “Trouble is, will we ever see a court. What’s to stop the bugger keeping us shut up here for a few months? I mean, think about it. Who the hell knows we’re here, except your former best friend, the one who dobbed you into this fucking place?”
It was difficult to be optimistic, Luke thought, when Todd had decided to embrace gloom and doom.
FORTY
Helen was getting impatient, then concerned. A week, Rupert had told her, but it would soon be a month and still no word or sign of him.
“He wouldn’t have just shot through without being in touch, would he?” she asked. “Maybe gone back to England?”
“Not Luke,” Rupert said loyally. “Not without contacting us.”
“You’re right, not Luke. But then I can’t understand it.”
“Nor can I.”
“Skulduggery in Maralinga? Isn’t that what he told you?”
“It’s what he said, but without any details.”
“Do you know what he was really going to do there?”
“At a guess, what has been his main concern for years, since the death of Kaito. And what did they do at Maralinga, except explode atom bombs?”
“But that was a few years ago.
“So there was maybe some sort of a scam that went on there.”
“Could we find out more?”
“I’m not sure how we would, or whether we should, my darling. He said a week, but obviously things have been delayed. I think he went to Canberra, after he and I met.”
“Why Canberra?”
“A contact, maybe? I suppose he’d need a permit, wouldn’t he, to enter that nuclear area?”
“I’d say so. Bazza’s in Canberra. I wonder if he saw him?”
“Do you really want to ask?”
“Not particularly, but on the other hand …” she frowned. “It seems so much longer than he planned to be away. Not even a phone call. I mean, he told you a week, so it seems logical that he could’ve called us to say what’s happened. I am beginning to get a bit worried.”
“Well, you know Silvester better than me. Have you got a number?”
“No, but it shouldn’t be difficult to find out.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Well, if he doesn’t want to speak to me, he can always hang up.” She found his phone number through the public service, and rang that evening.
“Helen Richmond?” On hearing who was calling, Barry sounded acerbic. “Or should I say Mrs Helen Richmond-Meredith-Lacey? This is an unexpected surprise.”
“I’m trying to find Luke, Barry, and thought you might be able to help.”
“What do you want him for? Do you need another piece written about feminist barristers who can’t find chambers?”
“No need to be like that, Baz. If you know where he is, just tell me, and I won’t bother you any further.”
“If I were you, Portia, I wouldn’t interfere. Superman is on the case, and I doubt if he wants his cover blown by an inquisitive old friend.”
“Thanks a million. I thought you might’ve changed, but you’re just as charmless as ever,” Helen said, hanging up on him.
“I gather Baz has not altered since your last brief encounter at the Florentino?” Rupert was already pouring her a glass of wine.
“You were right, darling. He was a bastard then, and he still is.”
Each morning Warrant Officer Woodridge, in full regimental dress, appeared and walked past the cell block, then stopped to stare in at his two prisoners. Some days he found amusement in asking had they slept well, or was the food to their liking, but each time he also made a point of telling Luke he had been too busy to contact Mrs Morrison. Or the Abo Padre as he insisted on calling the Pastor Nicholls. Far too busy. It was plain he hadn’t bothered, and the taunting game continued. Todd turned sullen. Luke tried to keep his temper, knowing an outburst was exactly what Woodridge would like to provoke. They were allowed only one shower a week. They stank and knew it. The hot afternoons with the sun glaring into their cells became something to dread, just as the chill nights that followed made sleep impossible. The prison had clearly been designed by a sadist.
Occasionally the cells alongside them were occupied. Miscreants, the Warrant Officer called them. Troublemakers. He took delight in telling Luke and Todd how he kept a tight grip on the place and ran a hassle-free base, that most other cells were occupied merely by petty offenders, overnight drunks or soldiers accused of being unruly. But in time they found out not all the military police were as rabid as Woodridge.
The redcap who had been bringing their slice of bread and tea in the mornings had secretly changed the ration. They were surprised when the tea was stronger, and now contained milk and sugar. One slice of bread became two slices. “Just eat it up and drink the char before bleedin’ Woody gets here,” the redcap said, adding that he knew how cold it could get in the cells at nights. “I’d smuggle you in another blanket if I could, but Adolph would go potty if he found out. I’d be in the shit. In fact, I’d be in the cell next door.” Adolf, he said, was their nickname for ruddy ‘Itler. “The tosser, he’s fair off his fucken trolley at times, the way he raves on. There’s a few of us feel the same, but he’s the guv’nor and there’s nowt we can do about it.”
Luke tried to delay him and ask questions, but the policeman was nervous and made it clear that one good deed was all he could manage. If word got around he was nattering, he’d lose his soft job in the kitchens and Adolph would have him cleaning the drains and latrines. But that night when he brought the meal, he and another redcap brought each an extra blanket.
“We’ll collect ‘em before Woody makes his rounds in the morning,” they said, warding off any thanks.
The blanket and increased rations were windfalls, but time was still re
lentless. Days went slowly by and nothing changed, until they heard angry shouting one morning. An Australian corporal was being dragged towards the prison block by two of the military police squad who were savagely bashing him into resistance. When they grew closer it was apparent by their uniforms that one of the assailants was a redcap and the other an Australian. Their prisoner seemed only half conscious as they literally hurled him into the cell next to Luke, and followed him in to continue the attack. Luke could hear the sounds of it as they went on brutally punching and kicking him.
“What the hell’s going on?” said Todd as softly as he could. “Can you hear? What’s the bloke done?”
“Dunno,” called Luke. The last thing he needed was Todd’s intervention, because he was trying to discern what was happening in the adjacent cell. But all he could hear were the gasps and cries from the corporal with the thud of fists that seemed to go on and on, until at last there was an abrupt silence. The lack of sound was more startling than the violence that preceded it. Luke tried pressing his ear to the wall, but it was too thick to hear anything clearly. All he could manage to determine was a low murmur of voices, after which the two emerged. He watched them start to walk away without stopping to close the cell, one turning to take a nervous look back before they hurried off.
“What’s happened?” Todd asked.
“Can’t tell.” It was completely quiet, and Luke knew the beaten man was still there, almost certainly unconscious. “Mate,” he called, “Corporal, are you okay? Can you hear me?”
There was no reply from the adjacent cell. It was frustrating neither he nor Todd could see into it.
“I never heard ‘em shut him in,” Todd said. “Did they leave it open?”
“It’s definitely open.” Luke could glimpse a corner of the barbed wire. “Which means they either beat him so badly they know the poor bugger can’t move, or else …” He called louder. “Corporal, can you hear me?”
“Any movement?”
“No. Not a sound.”
“Or else … what were you gunna say?” Todd asked.
“Or else he must be unconscious.” It seemed the most tactful thing to suggest for the present, Luke thought. He didn’t want Todd getting excited.
It was not long afterwards that the same pair returned with a stretcher. They went into the cell, without paying the slightest attention to Luke or Todd, and emerged a few moments later, one at each end of the stretcher with a covered figure prone on it.
“Hey, what’s happened to him?” Todd called to Luke’s dismay. Shut up you silly sod, he wanted to warn him, but that would’ve just aggravated the situation. He held his breath as they stopped to look back.
“Just a few bruises, he’s okay,” the redcap answered, but the Aussie yelled angrily, “Got nothing to do with you, sport. None of your concern. Stop being so fuckin’ nosey. We’re just taking him to the hospital for treatment.”
Luke held his breath, but there was no further sound from Todd. He waited carefully, until he was sure they’d moved out of hearing.
“Bruises my arse, Todd. He’s not on the way to the hospital. I reckon that bloke is dead.”
“If he is,” Todd said, “then the best thing we can do is to shut up and stay out of it. We didn’t hear or see anything.”
Exactly! Luke thought. If only bloody Todd could remember to follow his own sensible advice.
Nothing happened during the rest of that day. Their stew was served as usual, along with the extra blankets. On the following morning the helicopter pilot appeared. He came first to Todd’s cell, with a very different attitude to the last time they’d seen him.
“Got some news for youse blokes. Woody got onto Ma Morrison, and it seems she does know Mr Elliott. Said she’s been expecting you, Luke.”
“Told you,” Luke said, managing to conceal his surprise at how the Dragon, as Yuri called her, had unexpectedly saved him. He felt sure the change of behaviour by the pilot was to do with what had happened in the adjoining cell. And thankfully Todd had managed to ask no questions.
“Had to check things, mate. Matter of security. No hard feelings?”
“Not if we’re free to get out of here.”
“Woody sent me to tell you, he’s sorry but he had to verify your story. Takes time, it does. Can’t be too careful about security in a place like this.”
Woody doesn’t make apologies, Luke thought. I was right about him being full of bombast. After weeks he sends a minion. That was when he realised what the pilot was saying.
“So the word is, you blokes are in the clear. Your vehicle’s unclamped. Just take the road south and don’t stop till you’re out of the restricted area. And this time Woody says we won’t ping you for the permit. Okay, Todd?”
“Good on you, Mick. Thanks.”
“Had a bit of a shermoz yesterday,” Mick was carefully casual. “The boys got a bit rough, but that bloody corporal was trying to call a strike and stir up trouble. Can’t have that on a military base. Got a fair old belting, but he’s getting stitched up in hospital. Should be out in a couple of days.”
“Glad to hear it,” Luke said.
Mick unlocked both their wire portals. “Here’s your vehicle keys, mate,” he told Todd. “But don’t push your luck and come back, will ya?”
“At least we were spared the full hypocrisy,” Luke said as they thankfully drove away. “I thought he might say have a good trip.”
Their first objective was to ensure they were out of the prohibited area as soon as possible, in case someone changed their minds. It was two hundred slow miles on a rough road, but they made it just before dark. Once they’d passed the row of fettlers’ cottages at the Watson railway station they stopped, and Luke retrieved his recorder and the notes from beneath burners of the barbecue. After this they decided to camp there for the night. It was a relief to sit outside the tent and be able to see the stars. Luke bought a bottle of wine from one of the railway workers, and, although it was pretty awful, they drank it in celebration and slept well. He dictated a lot of notes to his portable recorder by the time the bottle was empty.
The next day it was a straight run across the Nullarbor Reserve in the direction of the Eyre Highway and Fowlers Bay. The town was rich with history, a tourist mecca, named by Lieutenant Matthew Flinders on his voyage around Australia, and later visited by the explorer Edward Eyre. It was built along the sand dunes, and the camping sites and cliff tops were crowded with visitors who’d come to watch the whales mating or giving birth. Dolphins and Australian sea lions were also part of the dazzling display visible from the hilltops. The placid sea beyond the Norfolk pines was a brilliant blue, and the crayfish and tuna boats were setting out from the quay. After their month of captivity, the fresh smell of salt air and a bright sunny day was like a tonic.
Rebecca Morrison’s house in Waratah Street was a small bungalow that faced the dunes. Mrs Morrison herself turned out to be a surprise: not so much of a dragon at all, but a brisk cheerful woman with greying hair, who had been told all about Luke Elliott by his Japanese doctor friend. So when she’d had a call from Maralinga a month ago, she had instantly gathered he might be in trouble, and had told Woodridge she not only knew Luke, but was expecting him.
“But I’d given you up,” she said, “thought you’d gone back east, or else migrated back to England.”
That was when Luke explained the tactics of Warrant Officer Woody.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” she replied. “My husband hated that man. I had a fearful row with him and the others when Arthur was sick. I knew his cancer was caused by the work he’d had to do there, but they refused to listen, even though I was a nurse in our local hospital at Yalata, and worked with a lot of other cancer cases.” She nodded on seeing Luke’s interest, “Yes, it was there I met Doctor Nakamura.”
That was Luke’s introduction to her. He not only found Rebecca Morrison a pleasant surprise, but she had her own particular surprises in store for him, far more than he could possibl
y have imagined.
FORTY-ONE
There were a great many things Luke needed to discuss with Rebecca, and Todd realised this. He tactfully said he had a former girlfriend in Ceduna, and he offered to take a couple of days to visit her and try his luck. Rebecca offered Luke her spare room, and for dinner that night she cooked a seafood paella rich with fillets of blue-eye cod, prawns, baby squid, clams and red peppers with paprika on saffron rice, and she and Luke sat on the back terrace of her house and washed it down with a Barossa riesling.
The meal was a triumph, and when Luke enthused and told her so she said it was such a pleasure to cook this kind of food again. Her husband had lost his appetite after the heavy doses of folic acid, and had tried to eat what she cooked, but in the end it was unfair to put nice meals on the table in front of him.
“It used to be my joy to surprise him with dishes like this. But when he got sick he felt he was somehow letting me down. He was so apologetic that in the end we just had simple food, and small amounts of it were all he could manage. I loved him dearly, and it broke my heart to watch him getting thinner and weaker. I became very protective, because the people at Maralinga decided that he might be a security risk. They kept coming here wanting to try and question him, and that’s where I got the nickname …” she paused for a moment and smiled.
“What nickname?” Luke asked.
“You know perfectly well what nickname, Luke. Stop being so nice and polite,” she said. “I’m quite sure Doctor Nakamura told you that I was called the Dragon.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that,” she smiled. If the years of her husband’s illness and the tension had left its hard imprint on her face, the smile was soft and appealing. “I played their game and became a dragon, because he wanted to go public with some of the things he found out there, and I refused to let him. I kept them all at bay. Sick as he was, they’d have made an example of him. He was a decent, honest man, who couldn’t believe that if he broke the oath of silence it was an automatic charge of treason. I wasn’t going to let him be tried by their military court and die in prison. So I did my utmost to protect him, stopped him from speaking out, and was content to be called whatever they liked.”
Above the Fold Page 33