Marble Bar

by Robert Schofield

  ‘Here we are again,’ Ford said.

  ‘You’re a cheap date,’ said Kavanagh, pulling the blanket tighter. ‘One day you’re going to take me somewhere that serves something better than road kill.’

  ‘Five star, I promise,’ he said. ‘How did we end up in this situation again?’

  ‘Same reason as before. If I had to point the finger, it’d be at your wife.’

  Ford craned his neck to the sky and looked for Orion. He found it low in the west, its head already out of sight behind the rocks above them. The belt was still visible. His fingers went to the gold nugget that hung on the chain around his neck, but his hand found Kavanagh’s already clasping it. He wrapped his hand around hers.

  ‘I’m thinking of Grace too, you know,’ she said.

  ‘They don’t know where she is.’

  ‘That’s what Bronson was listening for, hiding behind the rocks. Waiting for us to give him an idea where she is. He was trying to play dumb, pretending Diane wasn’t with them.’

  ‘They must be forcing her to do this.’

  ‘If they were, why did she ask us to meet her here? She set us up so she could take your daughter while she’s here. Two birds, one stone. She’s always two steps ahead of you.’

  ‘She always has been,’ said Ford, watching the stars fade as the dawn brightened. ‘She was always chasing something bigger, grasping at the stars.’

  Kavanagh lifted her chin, found her own star to look at. ‘They only look beautiful from down here, where there’s a warm wind blowing. If you go out there among them they are so hot they will burn you up, or the space between them will freeze you solid and suffocate you, and the cosmic rays will warp your molecules.’

  Ford watched the stars go out one by one. ‘Is it so wrong of me to want a small life?’

  He got no reply. Her hand had dropped from his and he heard the soft purr of her snoring. He slid out from under her and laid her head on the ground. The sky was purple now in the east and he watched it brighten to blue and the sun appear over the ridge. In the slanting light the spinifex looked like spun gold and the rocks glowed a deep red as if lit from within. The fire was dead, but a faint haze lingered around the rocks and Ford could smell the burnt meat mixed in with the wood smoke.

  Down the hill Muddy was looking into the engine bay of the Land Rover and Dussell was in the driver’s seat. At a signal from Muddy he turned over the engine and the battery in the old truck laboured. After a few seconds the engine fired, the exhaust coughed and the Land Rover started. Dussell revved it hard, a cloud of smoke forming around the exhaust, and Muddy snaked a hand out from beneath the hood with his thumb in the air. Dussell left it running and started walking up the hill towards the camp.

  Ford watched him approach, the valley falling away behind him, the ridges edged with shadow. Dussell noticed the expression on his face as he took in the landscape. ‘Nature takes a perverse pleasure from putting gold in the most difficult, remote and god-forsaken places on earth,’ he said.

  Ford swatted away the flies that had started flitting in front of his face, active as soon as the heat of the sun reached them. ‘How quick can we get back to Marble Bar?’

  ‘We won’t get ahead of them,’ said Dussell. ‘It’s a couple of hours. By the time we get to town they’ll have registered this claim with the Registrar of Mines.’

  ‘Then I guess you’re fucked,’ said Ford.

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ said Dussell. ‘No use complaining about it. Nobody out here but God and the cockatoos. The birds can’t help you and the Lord doesn’t give a shit.’

  ‘My daughter’s still there, in town,’ said Ford.

  ‘Well, let’s go and get her.’

  ‘The Registrar’s Office, that’s in the same building as the police station?’

  ‘The old Government Buildings, yes. Right next door.’

  ‘Then that’s where I need you to take us.’

  Emily was awake now, rolling her swag and gathering her few belongings into a soft knitted bag. A bird called from beyond the rocks, a throaty bark that sounded unnatural. Kavanagh opened her eyes, blinking until they focused. The bird called again and she sat upright, then her face relaxed when she remembered where she was. ‘What’s that bird?’ she said, her own throat rasping.

  ‘Yirlunpa,’ said Emily, picking up her bag and her bedroll and walking off towards the car.

  ‘It’s a kookaburra,’ said Dussell.

  ‘It’s not doing that laugh,’ said Kavanagh, standing up.

  ‘The birds up here are not the same as the ones down south. Those were introduced to the West. That one you hear is native to round here, although you normally only hear them in the wet. Different call. You know why they don’t laugh?’

  Kavanagh shook her head.

  ‘Because there’s nothing to fucking laugh about in Marble Bar.’

  Kavanagh walked to the edge of the camp and watched Emily climb into the back of the Land Rover.‘We ready to go?’

  ‘Got the old girl running,’ said Dussell, ‘but the Toyota is fucked. We’ll squeeze in together.’

  Kavanagh looked from Emily and Muddy to Dussell and then smiled at Ford. ‘Another freak show on wheels,’ she said.

  Ford returned her smile. ‘How you feeling?’ he said, looking at her ripped feet.

  She found her hat, squared it on her head and shrugged. ‘Where are my boots?’

  ‘Still in the car,’ said Ford.

  ‘Then let’s get to it,’ she said, and limped off barefoot down the hill towards the Land Rover.

  Ford walked behind her, watching her pick her way with care through the rocks. She sidestepped a small bush, straggling dry stems tipped with small delicate pink flowers. As Ford passed it he snapped a bloom off the tallest stem and held it in his palm.

  Kavanagh slid into the back seat of the Land Rover next to Emily. Ford waited for her to scoot along into the middle and then he held the flower between his thumb and forefinger and held it out in front of her. Emily looked at the flower and pursed her lips, tutting. Kavanagh took the flower from him and put it to her nose. Ford held his breath until a small smile crossed one corner of her mouth and her eyes softened.

  Dussell sat behind the wheel and glanced over his shoulder at his passengers.

  ‘You’re wasting your time with that,’ he said, nodding towards the flower. ‘Sturt’s desert rose, Gossypium sturtianum. You should’ve left it on the plant. Hardy little bastard for something so pretty, but once you pick it, the flower only lasts a day, then the petals close up.’

  Kavanagh took off her straw hat, slipped the flower in the band. Her hand found Ford’s and she pulled it into her lap and put her hat over their intertwined fingers.

  Muddy sat down last, his bare feet up on the dashboard. He looked at Dussell and they moved off.

  By the time they were out of the hills and had reached the road, the sun was a hand’s breadth above the horizon and the heat in the car was suffocating. Ford pulled at his shirt, trying to get some air to where his chest was slick with sweat. He could feel Kavanagh pressed against his side, their sweat mingling through their clothes. All four windows were down, and the vents in the dashboard were open, but they weren’t moving fast enough to generate a breeze or keep the insects out.

  ‘Half the flies in the world are in this vehicle,’ said Ford, grabbing Kavanagh’s hat and fanning it in front of his face.

  Dussell raised a hand to tap his glasses and the flies that had settled on the lenses took flight. ‘You can shut out the flies or you can shut in the heat. Your choice.’

  ‘You never felt the need to get a vehicle built in this millennium? Something with air-conditioning?’

  ‘Only one more thing to go wrong. You’re only putting off the inevitable anyway. You sweat enough as soon as you step outside. Better to get used to the heat.’

  Ford turned to the open window and pushed his face through it, feeling the warm air move across his forehead and dry his skin. ‘A breath
of wind from the wings of madness,’ he said.

  ‘They called it the Madman’s Track,’ said Dussell, raising his voice above the whine of the engine. ‘Prospectors used to walk up here in the early days of the gold rush. From Kalgoorlie to the Pilbara on foot.’

  ‘I walked out there yesterday,’ said Ford. ‘I’m not sure it was any worse than being sandwiched in this hell of a pressure cooker.’

  ‘They say that if you travel to hell from Marble Bar, you’ll return for your blankets,’ said Dussell.

  Ford watched the brown country pass slowly, thermal coils of hot air lifting dust from the ground, the red rocks rippling in the heat haze. ‘Maybe I’m ready for England again,’ he said. ‘Ready for some green hills, a cold wind heavy with drizzle. Maybe I want to feel the pull of history again.’ The faces of the others were blank, so he left them to their thoughts.

  An hour’s slow drive brought them to the crossing over the dry bed of the Coongan River. ‘Told you I’d bring you back,’ said Dussell as they crossed. ‘A man’s word is all he’s got up here. Worth more than gold.’ Once across and on to the bitumen, Dussell accelerated along the good road, upright in his seat, eager now that they were only a dozen kilometres from the town.

  They came on it suddenly after the emptiness of the desert, a few scattered houses and then they were on the main street, the tall, imposing Government Buildings standing proud on the rise ahead of them. Dussell slowed for the turn into the high street and Kavanagh sat forward in her seat, fidgeting as she gazed through the windscreen at the old stone buildings and the row of cars parked outside. They crawled up the street in front of the long terraced building until Dussell pointed to the sign for the Mining Registrar, fixed to the wall of the building beside a low stone archway leading to a shaded doorway. A broad gable set with three high narrow windows separated the arch from the police station with its blue sign outside.

  A battered Nissan ute stood outside the Registrar’s office, and in the shade of the arch stood Bronson and Wu, one on either side of the doorway, like nightclub doormen. They were both still wearing their black suits and white shirts, but Bronson had loosened his tie and undone some buttons. His shirt had red dust ingrained into the collar, and there was dust on the hems of his trousers. Wu looked the same as when Ford had first seen him in Newman, his suit still looking as if it had been recently pressed, his umbrella hooked over his folded arms.

  Bronson took a step forward into the sunshine as Dussell pulled the Land Rover up behind the Nissan, and Ford opened the back door and got out. He stood on the kerb holding the door for Kavanagh, who stumbled out carrying her boots and hat, then stood upright and stared at Bronson. As soon as the door closed, Dussell threw the Land Rover into reverse and backed off down the street. Ford turned in surprise at the whine of the gearbox, and Muddy gave him a small finger wave through the windscreen.

  Bronson was standing between them and the door, his arms folded across his chest, a film of sweat glistening on his shaved head. ‘I’d hoped we wouldn’t see you again. I mustn’t have done much of a job on that old jeep.’

  ‘You underestimated the old man’s resourcefulness,’ said Ford.

  ‘Yours too,’ said Bronson. ‘One day I might put you down and you won’t get back up.’

  Ford made for the door but he felt a large hand on his chest. ‘Don’t think that you’re going in there,’ said Bronson. ‘Wait for the lady to finish her business and then we’ll all have a little chat.’

  Ford looked along the building to the police station, saw that Saxon’s ute was parked outside.

  ‘Don’t go looking for them to bail you out,’ said Bronson. ‘You’re beyond help right now.’

  Kavanagh dropped her boots on the ground and tried to step around Bronson but he put his arm up and held her by the shoulder. ‘Don’t think I’m such a gentleman that I won’t ram your pretty teeth so far down your throat that they’ll bite that skinny white arse of yours,’ he said.

  They were standing like that, Bronson holding both of them, when Diane stepped calmly out of the building.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  When she saw Ford and Kavanagh she hesitated. Her expression remained calm and told Ford nothing. She stopped a pace behind Bronson and Wu and waited.

  Now that she was in front of him, Ford found he had nothing to say. She looked good. She wore a lightweight khaki jacket over a white T-shirt and brown pants. If they were the same clothes she had worn out in the desert, it didn’t show. Her red hair was pulled back, away from her face, her skin pale as if it had never seen the sun. She looked better than ever, but her eyes showed him the fear she had been living with. She held his gaze for a few moments, then looked at Kavanagh.

  ‘I was hoping we’d be able to talk this out between us,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think there’d be any need to involve anyone else. I didn’t know you’d show up here with your girlfriend.’

  ‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ said Ford, swatting away Bronson’s hand from his chest. The Maori took a step back and stood shoulder to shoulder with Diane. Wu closed in on her other flank.

  ‘Then what is she?’ asked Diane.

  ‘She’s right here, that’s what she is,’ said Kavanagh.

  Ford turned to her, and she stared right back at him, her eyebrow arched.

  ‘You didn’t answer your wife’s question,’ said Kavanagh. ‘I’m as curious as she is to hear what word you’re going to come up with.’

  Ford hesitated, then said to his wife, ‘She’s my back-up.’

  Kavanagh snorted. ‘You think I’m here in some sort of supporting role?’

  Ford ignored her and continued staring at Diane. ‘You knew we were travelling together.’

  ‘Where’s Grace?’ asked Diane.

  ‘You’ve been looking?’

  ‘Not yet. We had to do this first. I thought she’d be with you, but Bronson tells me you were out at the claim.’

  ‘She’s safe,’ said Ford. ‘Somewhere these two can’t find her.’

  ‘I want to see her,’ said Diane. ‘I took a lot of risks to get here, all because I need to see her.’

  ‘Why did you feel the need to lie to me again? About being watched in Broome? All that bullshit just to get me here to Marble Bar? You could’ve talked to me. I would’ve helped. Why set me up with these two?’

  Diane took a few steps forward into the sunshine. Wu put up the umbrella and held it over her, giving her some shade. ‘I wasn’t lying when I said that I’d left Alan,’ she said. ‘These guys came to protect me from Roth, or anyone else Alan sent to take me back.’

  ‘Don’t pretend they’re not here to help you take Grace away from me.’

  Diane sighed. ‘I had to do this, with the mining lease, but now I’m free.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ said Kavanagh. She took a step forward but Bronson put his hand back on her shoulder to restrain her. ‘I’m still a police officer and I still have the option of taking you in.’

  ‘For what?’ said Diane.

  ‘Conspiracy to defraud the stock market.The false geology report at Gwardar.’

  ‘You’d have to prove that I wrote that, not Matthew Walsh, and that’s a long way out of the jurisdiction of the Gold Squad.’

  ‘I can arrest you now and we can worry about the paperwork later.’

  Bronson dropped his hand and smiled at Kavanagh, then opened his jacket to show her the old Webley pistol still stuck in his pants.

  Kavanagh didn’t blink. ‘Did you work out how to reload that thing?’ Bronson nodded slowly so she said, ‘Take care it doesn’t accidentally discharge again. It’ll take your balls off.’

  Diane stepped between them. ‘I can tell you where the Gwardar gold is.’

  Kavanagh smirked. ‘We have that already,’ she said. ‘What else have you got?’

  Ford saw the panic dart across his wife’s face, and her eyebrows twitched before she regained control, her face now a mask of calm indifference.

  ‘Who gave up the gold?�
� she asked.

  Kavanagh’s eyes brightened. She was starting to enjoy herself. ‘Roth,’ she said. ‘He’s right here in Marble Bar. Cleaning up loose ends.You might be one of them.’

  Bronson bristled, folded his arms and puffed out his chest. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting the man.’

  ‘I can still give you Alan,’ said Diane. ‘I can give you offshore accounts, holding companies, all the little places he’s squirrelled away his money.’

  Ford looked at his wife and then at Kavanagh and thought about the choices in front of him. ‘Why would you do that to him?’ he asked.

  This time she couldn’t control her face. Her mouth creased and her eyes narrowed. ‘He promised me we would come back for Grace,’ she said. ‘That he’d have everything sorted. Get his business refloated, get back in the game. Shake the police and the stock market off his back. Then he’d bring me back to Australia.’

  ‘Don’t expect me to pity you for believing him,’ said Kavanagh.

  ‘Alan is desperate to do a deal with the Chinese,’ said Diane. ‘He misses the buzz of being a big fish in a small pond. In Macau his money doesn’t even register among all the high rollers. He’s living in that casino, drinking and gaining weight. He started using the gold-card saunas, even has a regular Chinese girlfriend. He thinks that’s what you do up there, that it shouldn’t bother me.’

  ‘Hell hath no fury,’ said Kavanagh. ‘When did you find out what McCann did to Matthew Walsh?’

  Diane turned away, stepped back into the shade of the archway, but Kavanagh pressed home her advantage.

  ‘I’m enjoying your wronged-woman routine, but I reckon the thought of your partner rotting in the jungle must have made you think, right? Did the Lau family offer you a way out?’