Parksey let out a long whistle while the rest of team banged on the table and made some noise.
Dave was embarrassed and held up his hands. ‘Enough already! I’m glad to be here and thanks for being so welcoming.’ He paused and looked at each one of them. ‘I’m really glad to be in the team with you all.’
Parksey leaned forwards. ‘Tell us about it. You know, the case and being undercover and all.’
Dave shrugged. ‘Not much to tell. I went over there and did my job.’ He wasn’t sure he could articulate how thrilling it had been; how frightening and exciting at the same time. Until it came to that final chase and he had felt the bullet enter his shoulder.
It didn’t seem so exhilarating in the middle of the night when the nightmares were taking hold of him. As he listened to the dog’s bark as they hunted through the bush that night. The shock of the cold water as he’d submerged himself in the river and the tightness in his chest as he’d held his breath for so long he thought he might not surface again.
‘You’ve gotta have a couple of war stories you can tell us about,’ Perry encouraged, also leaning forwards in anticipation.
Taking a sip of his lemon squash, Dave debated what he could tell them. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and looked at them all. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘when I first arrived in Nundrew, on an old motorbike, I had to speed down the main street to get the coppers’ attention. It was the ploy, you know? Make a loud entrance, the cops start to watch you and the crims decide you’re okay, because the cops are out to arrest your arse. It worked too, because when I parked the bike on the verandah of the pub and left it there, it caused a bit of a stir. That got me an introduction to the local police.’ He paused and watched their faces. His colleagues were enthralled.
Spencer had told him not many cops ever went undercover, and most were fascinated by the experience. And scared at the same time. He’d warned him that he’d be treated like a celebrity and Dave hated this part. But he was a good storyteller, so he went with it.
Only for today, he thought.
He shrugged. ‘Here’s the most glamorous part. First night? I slept on the floor of the public toilets. Cement floor. No lights. All that sort of stuff.’ Taking a breath, he remembered the coldness of the cement, even through the swag mattress.
‘Why did you stay there?’ Lorri wanted to know.
‘I had to play the part of a drifter,’ he said. ‘Drifters don’t have money, so no hotel.’
‘Geez,’ Blake looked repulsed. ‘Hope it wasn’t on the nose.’
‘Wouldn’t have mattered if it was. It was the spot to camp the night. Was pretty lucky after that. Hooked up with the POI and I camped with them until the job was finished.’
Bob waded into the conversation. ‘See you all gotta remember, boys and girl, it’s about acting. You’re playing a role. So you can’t be who you are normally, isn’t that right?’
‘You’re on the money. It’s the little details; I put a stone in my shoe so I walked differently, had contact lenses to change the colour of my eyes. I was someone my own mother wouldn’t have recognised, and the personality had to be the same. You been under, Bob?’
‘Nah. The undercover gig isn’t for me, but I’ve been a handler a couple of times. That’s as close to the action as I want to get. More drinks anyone?’ Bob asked as he started to get up.
Everyone shook their heads.
‘Actually, we should get back to the office,’ Perry said. ‘I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make.’
Chairs scraped backwards and everyone got up, while Bob headed back to the bar.
‘What are you working on?’ Dave asked, falling into step alongside Perry, hungry for information.
‘I’ve got a case of trespassing on a property down south. The victims farm marron and they’ve had people going on their place and fishing their dams.’
‘Got any leads?’
‘Not yet. It’s frustrating because it’s happened twice, but the MO isn’t the same. I think they’ve been hit by two different POIs. Between the two hits, they’ve lost half their marron supply and all of their markets, because they can’t supply what they were contracted to.’
Dave grimaced. ‘The hidden side of rural crime. People losing their livelihoods.’
‘Yeah. Heartbreaking when you see the families—sometimes they’ve got little kids and other times it’s the old farmer who has had the farm in the family for generations and they can’t keep it anymore. Crime doesn’t discriminate.’ He raised his voice as a car rushed past on the busy road.
‘Any type of crime,’ Dave agreed. ‘Anyone else got something in the wings?’
‘There’re always a few reports of the greener crops being grown on Crown land or even on some of the farming land that doesn’t have people living on it full time. I think Lorri has one of them going right now.’
‘Using my name in vain?’ Lorri asked as she came alongside.
‘Dave just asked what was going on in the office and I was telling him about your greenery case.’
‘Oh yeah. Growing them along the Avon River.’ She shook her head. ‘They’re so stupid. These types are the easiest to solve. We just set up some cameras and silent alarms and catch them checking the crop, then turn up when they are there next and arrest their sorry arse!’
Perry and Dave laughed.
‘Good job, Lorri,’ Perry said.
Bob, having drained his second beer quickly, fell into step with them. ‘I gotta go out,’ he said. ‘Be back in a couple of hours. Dave, if you’ve gone by the time I turn back up again, it’s sale day tomorrow. We’ll hit the yards at oh-six-hundred, okay?’
‘Sure thing, boss.’
Chapter 6
Kevin saw the dust before he saw the car.
The cloud of red swirled high into the bright blue sky and a little later on the growl of the engine reached him too. From the shed, where he had been helping Jackie change the oil in one of the utes, he walked towards the dirt track that ran past the shed, then stopped, his hands on his hips. They weren’t expecting anyone.
‘Looks like we’ve got company,’ he said. It was unusual to have people come out here without calling first, and an unexpected visitor meant one of two things: tourists on the wrong track, or trouble.
‘Who’s comin’?’ Jackie asked, walking up to stand alongside Kevin, wiping his hands on a rag.
‘Can’t tell from here,’ Kevin answered.
‘Hmm. Whoever it is, I don’t think they’ll be bringing any good,’ Jackie said, turning away. ‘I can feel it.’
‘Might be lost.’
‘Nah, no good will come of this. You’ll see. No one turns up unannounced out here and brings good news.’ A burst of children’s laughter from the edge of the creek rose into the still air and intermingled with engine noise growing louder. A round of barking from the dogs and then the thwump of bare feet on leather. The kids were playing their afternoon game of footy.
‘No good,’ Jackie repeated from a distance this time.
Kevin turned around in time to see his father disappear into the murky darkness of the shed. He frowned as he swung back to look for the dust again. Instead, he saw a white four-wheel-drive troopy with police stripes down the side. He narrowed his eyes and didn’t change his stance.
Maybe his father was right.
The vehicle pulled up to a stop and the policeman waved through the window. ‘G’day there, Kevin,’ Glenn said, getting out of the vehicle and putting his Akubra on his head with large meaty hands. ‘How’re you going, mate?’ He adjusted his heavy belt, which had a gun and handcuffs hanging from it, before reaching into the back of the vehicle and bringing out three litres of fresh milk and three loaves of bread.
Rule number one of the bush: never arrive at a station empty-handed.
‘G’day,’ Kevin answered.
Glenn walked over, his hand outstretched, and Kevin didn’t see that he had any option other than to shake it.
‘Things looki
ng a bit dry out this way,’ Glenn said.
‘You’re a bit off the beaten track. What brings you out here, Senior Sergeant King?’ Kevin asked as he took the bread and milk. ‘Cheers for these.’ He didn’t move or offer him a cuppa.
‘Just thought I’d come for a little chat. Find out how things have been going since you’ve come back up. Been a while since I’ve seen you in town.’
Kevin watched the man closely. His eyes were flicking everywhere as if he were searching for something. Finally they settled on Kevin’s face. Glenn looked him straight in the eye, his face solemn as he patted the small black bush flies away.
‘Got no reason to be in town unless I need supplies or stuff for the station. Only go in once every couple of months. We’re pretty self-sufficient out here. What did you want to chat about?’ Kevin asked. He kept eye contact as a single white corella flew overhead. The swish of its wings was the only noise in the silence stretching between the two men.
A sense of foreboding trickled through Kevin’s stomach, but he didn’t let it show.
‘How about we go and sit down?’ Glenn asked.
‘I’m happy here. What’s this all about? I think we both know you don’t make courtesy calls, Sergeant.’
Glenn pushed his hat back on his head and scratched at his hairline before pulling it back down. ‘Right. Well, then. How are you getting on? No trouble since you’ve got back?’
Kevin thought of the cattle that had been pushed over the fence and his damaged windmill.
‘Everything is fine,’ he answered. ‘Nothing that a bit of rain wouldn’t fix.’
Glenn seemed to grasp at that line of conversation. ‘Yeah, she’s been dry for a while. Got enough feed for all your cattle or are you needing to shift some?’
‘We’re good for the moment.’
‘The Wet can’t be too far away.’ He looked up. ‘Although no build-up yet.’
‘It’ll come.’
‘Yeah, Kit Redman said the same thing. Guess you’re right.’
Kevin stiffened at the name. Kit was his neighbour and the owner of Deep-Water Station. Kevin didn’t want to enter into any discussion about him.
‘I’ve got to get on,’ Kevin said, starting to move towards his ute in the shed, still holding the bread and milk. ‘Pretty busy, you know. Was just about to head out on a bore run. Anything else I can help you with?’ He hoped that would dissuade Glenn from asking any more questions.
‘Well, actually, mate, there is.’ Glenn took off his hat and wiped his brow.
In the open, it was blazing hot; it would be much cooler in the shade or the shed, but Kevin wasn’t letting the police officer in there until he knew what this was all about—he didn’t want the man getting comfortable.
Glenn started to follow Kevin, who stopped and turned around to face him.
‘What’s that?’ Kevin said.
‘Well, speaking of Kit, he came to see me the other day. On business, you know?’
Kevin stood and listened.
‘He reckons he’s seeing a few strange things around his place.’ Glenn scratched his arm then put his hand in his pocket. When Kevin didn’t say anything, he continued. ‘He’s seen cattle tracks on his place, and it looks like someone has laid a fence down. Could be heading in this direction.’
Kevin felt the burn of fury in his throat, in his stomach. ‘What are you saying?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘We’re thieves?’ It wasn’t only the sun making Kevin sweat now. He was livid.
A gust of wind made a loose piece of tin on the shed bang and the galahs that were perched in the trees rose in a squawking cloud of pink and grey. The ghost gum next to the shed battered its leaves against the tin, making a scratching sound. As soon as the gust blew itself out, the land was silent again.
Glenn held up his hands. ‘Mate, I’m not saying anything. I’m here making a few enquiries. Kit hasn’t identified any cattle losses, but he’s seen fences down and vehicle tracks. On both sides of the fence. He reported one when he first came and saw me. Been more since. And there’s been a few animals butchered. Looks like a professional job each time.’
‘We’ve got our own cattle as rations, Senior Sergeant King. And as for tracks on both sides of the fence, that’s because they’ve come from my side, from Spinifex Downs onto Deep-Water, not the other way around.’ Kevin’s heart was beating fast from saying all of that aloud. And to a copper. His dad would be disappointed if he’d heard the conversation. He wanted to glance around to see if he could see Jackie somewhere, but he didn’t dare take his eyes from Glenn’s in case he saw that as a sign of guilt. ‘And your “making enquiries” sounds to me like an accusation.’ His voice was low.
Glenn threw up his hands and cleared his throat. ‘Look, Kevin, we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m not here to accuse you of anything. I’m trying to work out if we’ve got a problem around here. Gathering information.’
Kevin regarded the man standing in front of him and wondered how much he could trust him. The comment about cattle heading towards Spinifex Downs had certainly sounded like an allegation but his face was open and honest. Maybe he just had a shit way with words.
‘Gather your information without accusing me of something, then,’ Kevin finally said.
‘Like I said. Wrong foot and all. Just seems that there’re a few things that are indicating we might have someone pinching stock. Have you noticed anything that’s raised your antenna? Your older stockmen are good trackers. Have they been out and about the station?’
Kevin turned around again and resumed walking towards the shed. ‘Come on, let’s get out of the sun. It can make a man go mad.’ He didn’t turn to see if Glenn was following him.
Inside, he dumped the bread and milk on the workbench and pulled up a couple of ten-gallon oil drums. ‘Sit down.’ He perched on the side of one and adjusted his jeans, before taking off his hat and letting it fall on the cement beside him, raising a puff of dust. His pocketknife, attached to his jeans, pushed into his hip, but he ignored it.
Glenn’s boots clipped on the cement and he sat down too, then he spread his hands and said, ‘Tell me what’s going on, Kev. I’m here to listen. We can’t let whatever’s happening out here get out of control, you know? There’s only one of me.’
Kevin twisted a piece of baling twine around his fingers and heard what Glenn was implying: he couldn’t stop a melee between neighbours without reinforcements. He thought about what to say while Jackie’s voice echoed around his mind: Don’t go to the police, boy.
Kevin wrestled with himself. It was fine for his father to say that, but he was a new generation. He was here to make a difference to his people, to bring pride back. He’d seen it as a young man: his people turning away from work and slumping into the deep abyss of alcohol. Without dignity or self-belief. That’s why he’d applied for the scholarship—so he could help bring that pride back to those he cared for so deeply. But would telling this copper about his suspicions take away the respect he’d earned since he’d been back here? But, like he’d said to Jackie earlier, if they kept letting people walk all over them, how could they be a proud people?
In the end, Kevin couldn’t see any way around it. He needed to talk about what was going on. If his suspicions were right, Spinifex Downs was going to continue to be a target forever.
He told Glenn to stay where he was and went out to his ute. Grabbing the video camera, he brought it back and held it out to the policeman. ‘The screen is pretty small so I guess you won’t be able to see much, but on here is a video that shows how my bore was sabotaged. The pump rods were undone and—’ he hit the play-back button, with the screen facing Glenn ‘—here’s where the cattle have gone over the fence into Deep-Water Station.’ The wind blurred the sound, but they could both still hear Kevin’s voice on the footage.
‘Look at this—the staples have been pulled out of the post and these couple here haven’t been nailed back in. Cattle tracks here and here.’ The camera raised up and moved as Kevin
walked across the boundary fence and into Deep-Water Station. The deep cattle tracks were clear in the orange soil, as were the broken branches of the bushes. The cattle had clearly been hurried through.
The video stopped and Glenn looked up but didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘Why do you think the bore was deliberately incapacitated?’
‘We pin our couplings so they can’t work their way loose. I remember there were issues with that when I was a kid. They’d come loose and then the bores wouldn’t pump. I made sure that wouldn’t happen.’ He paused as another gust of wind hit the side of the shed and the sound of banging tin grew louder.
‘I found the pin lying on the ground. Whoever did it wanted me to know it had been done deliberately. You’ll see when you watch the whole thing.’ He paused the video again to show the stainless-steel pin glinting in the sun against the red soil.
‘Can you get this footage to me, please?’ Glenn asked, fishing in his pocket and handing over a business card. ‘Got internet out here yet?’
‘Yeah. We do. Pretty slow though. I don’t know if the video will email but if it doesn’t I’ll save the file onto a disk. I’ll work it out.’
‘And you’re sure you’ve lost cattle?’
‘Me and two other fellas have been over that paddock three times. We’ve checked every hidey-hole there could be and the cattle that should be in that paddock aren’t there anymore.’
‘How many?’
By now Glenn had his notebook out and had started to jot down the things Kevin was saying. That made Kevin nervous. He’d already said more than he wanted to.
‘There were two hundred in there. Cows, pure Brahman. Three years old. They were the first lot of girls I got on the ground after I came back. Bred from some really beautiful sires I sourced from Queensland. Great milkers.’
‘Got the tracking tags in them? NLIS tags?’
Red Dirt Country Page 5