Dust of the Land

by J. H. Fletcher

  ‘We tell them there are huge deposits of iron in the state, how iron will make Western Australia the economic leader of the country. We say how the law is the only thing holding the state back. That, if only the government had the vision to change things –’

  ‘So they repeal the law –’

  ‘And we peg our claims,’ said Bella.

  ‘And then? We shall need equipment, transportation, development. We’re talking huge investment here. Millions –’

  ‘But at the end of it, it will still be profitable. Right?’

  ‘Of course. Hugely profitable.’

  ‘Then let’s take it one step at a time. Besides, that’s what banks are for, isn’t it?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Bella stared at the Chinese capital from her hotel window. Dusk was falling but arc lamps had been set up on the building sites and work was still proceeding at a furious pace, clouds of dust blowing everywhere on the gusting wind.

  Yes, she thought as she remembered what she had said to Garth, that was exactly what banks were for. And to act as traps for the unwary.

  Three days had passed since her meeting with Comrade Fang. They had visited the Summer Palace and the Forbidden City. They had ridden in a dragon boat; they had been to the Wall and climbed a section of it, but Bella was no tourist. Worried what other devilment Pete Bathurst might be plotting, she wanted to finish her business here and get back to Australia, but she was in Comrade Fang’s hands. Every day Su-Ying warned her against impatience. Very well; she would wait as long as it took.

  The phone rang.

  ‘Hullo?’

  A man’s voice: sibilant, clipped, formal.

  ‘Comrade Fang wishes resume discussion at nine this evening. It is convenient?’

  Bella remembered the advice Su-Ying had given her. ‘I regret that will not be possible. Please give Comrade Fang my apologies. May I suggest nine tomorrow morning?’

  ‘One minute…’

  Bella waited, phone pressed to her ear, watched leaves blowing on the autumn wind along the hotel drive, where lights on suspended wires were shining at intervals.

  ‘Comrade Fang will expect you in his office at two-seventeen tomorrow afternoon,’ the caller said.

  The call was disconnected. Slowly Bella replaced the receiver.

  Two seventeen tomorrow afternoon… The precision of the new schedule signalled Fang’s displeasure at her rejection of his original proposal. She, too, was uneasy, but remembered Su-Ying’s words.

  ‘The Chinese are a very symbolic people. If you agree too easily, they will think you are weak. You must make them understand that discussions must be between equals. That way things will go better.’

  Bella thought, I hope you know what you’re talking about, daughter-in-law.

  She closed her eyes and thought about the coming meeting. The first had meant nothing; a simple getting-to-know-you session. Tomorrow would be the one that mattered. She decided that tonight the three of them would have dinner together. Su-Ying would order the food and they would talk about the meeting. Talk very cautiously, she thought; the dining room, like the bedrooms and telephone, was almost certainly bugged. If they needed to discuss anything especially sensitive, they would go for a walk.

  One thing they would not discuss at all was what they would be willing to accept and what they would not. Not because of possible eavesdroppers but because Bella, never the democrat in matters of business, would decide.

  Bella ran a bath and eased herself gratefully into the warm water. No, she was not a democrat but knew how to appreciate the value of those around her, particularly the members of her family, because they, much more than Tucker Mining or Miranda Downs, were the true measure of the future. She stretched out luxuriously and thought about what she liked to consider her legacy.

  Peace the mining engineer, bossy, belligerent, capable of being both wonderful and abominable as the mood took her. Staff feared her; Richard often resented her. Peace was a brilliant administrator but so far had shown little of the diplomacy that the top job required.

  By contrast, Richard was a natural diplomat but lacked his sister’s drive. To this day Bella doubted he would ever have proposed to his wife had Bella not pushed him into it.

  That would have been a tragedy, because quite apart from how happy they had made one another Su-Ying – Chinese educated, former student at the University of Western Australia, her father once again a senior official in China’s government – was a treasure, her slender body concealing a will of steel. Facing the prospect of what looked like make-or-break negotiations, her contribution during the next few days would be invaluable.

  When Bella was dressed she picked up the phone and asked to be put through to her son’s room.

  ‘We are summoned to a meeting at the ministry,’ she said. ‘Two-seventeen tomorrow afternoon. I think we should have dinner together tonight and talk things over.’

  Bella would decide, but getting other people’s opinions never hurt.

  The car was waiting before they had finished lunch. Siren howling, the driver got them to the ministry by two-fifteen; agitated officials scurried them into Comrade Fang’s office on the tick of two-seventeen.

  Where they were left to cool their heels for ten minutes.

  More gamesmanship, Bella thought but said nothing; Su-Ying had warned her that this office, too, was almost certainly bugged.

  When Comrade Fang arrived he brought a file of papers, an interpreter and a contemptuous expression. He did not speak but slammed the file down on the desk.

  The Chinese are a very symbolic people, Su-Ying had said.

  Comrade Fang’s discourtesy, so different from their first meeting, was therefore part of the act. But to what end?

  He spoke angrily. The interpreter said:

  ‘Comrade Fang insist you explain how company intend to honour commitment to Chinese government.’

  He glared as though he hated them with all his soul but as a child Bella had been intimidated by experts and was not to be terrified now.

  ‘There is enough ore at the Carlisle Mine to satisfy all China’s needs,’ she said. ‘Bulk carriers are available –’

  Fang interrupted in a furious burst of Mandarin.

  ‘Bulk carriers not issue,’ the interpreter said. ‘Chinese government demands you explain how Tucker Mining intends to deliver ore to carriers.’

  ‘By rail. There is no other way it can be done.’

  ‘And you have no rail link.’

  ‘We had an understanding with BradMin –’

  Comrade Fang was shouting, clenched fist pounding the surface of his desk, the interpreter’s face expressionless as she translated.

  ‘You have no agreement. Comrade Fang say you undertook delivery of twenty-five million tons of iron ore a year knowing you had no way to honour that undertaking. You deliberately concealed –’

  Bella Tucker was no more to be shouted at than intimidated. ‘The memorandum of understanding states very clearly that delivery is conditional upon the availability of a rail facility –’

  ‘Which you do not have. Which you have never had.’

  ‘That was why we were negotiating with BradMin –’

  ‘Which owns only rail line that can convey ore from Carlisle Mine to coast.’

  ‘At present that is correct,’ Bella said.

  ‘Our information is that BradMin not permit Tucker Mining to use that line.’

  ‘Negotiations are proceeding. We have made a fresh offer –’

  Fang shouted over her.

  The interpreter said: ‘Comrade Fang say BradMin not plan to give Tucker access to rail line. Never!’

  ‘Never say never,’ Bella said.

  Fang stared at her for a full minute. Her stomach churning, Bella forced her face to remain tranquil as she returned his gaze.

  Contemptuously he threw a few words at her and stood up.

  ‘Comrade Fang say nothing more to discuss,’ the interpreter said. ‘Nothin
g!’

  Fang walked out, leaving the interpreter to gather the papers off the desk and scurry after him.

  ‘And now?’ Richard said, after a moment’s silence.

  Bella remained calm. Comrade Fang had not said discussions were finished. Despite his posturing, a deal might still be possible to enable her to salvage the dream that had been part of her life for so long. She followed the instinct that over the years had seldom let her down.

  ‘We shall return to the hotel,’ she said. ‘And wait.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ‘Two hundred and fifty acres?’ Garth said. ‘I thought you wanted a

  house, not a farm.’

  ‘I want to create a favourable impression,’ said Bella.

  ‘Two hundred and fifty acres of scrub and a weatherboard house,’ Garth said. ‘Some impression.’

  ‘But I have plans,’ Bella said.

  She spent days with architects, landscape gardeners, engineers, interior designers. Plans were produced and rejected. More arrived, to be rejected in their turn or discussed, modified, set aside for further study. Budget estimates were prepared; accountants shook their heads dubiously.

  The planning took a year but Bella revelled in the problems. One by one her will overcame them. Every day was full of excitement; she had never known such purpose and determination.

  ‘This will be the finest estate in Western Australia,’ she declared.

  She even had a name for it: Desire.

  Garth studied the drawings and shook his head. ‘You are planning a palace,’ he objected; the idea of so much luxury made him uncomfortable.

  ‘We want the law changed. To do that, we have to impress the men who make the laws. Nothing impresses them like wealth.’

  ‘The rate you’re going, we’re more likely to be bankrupt,’ Garth said.

  ‘All in a good cause,’ she told him gaily. ‘How many millions did you say were in the ground up there?’

  ‘It’s not ours, not yet.’

  ‘That’s why we’re doing this. So that it becomes ours.’

  That wasn’t her only reason. She was recreating the identity in which she had grown up and whose home was Ripon Grange. She had rediscovered the world in which luxury was taken for granted.

  ‘We shall be rich!’ she said.

  She had never given a thought to riches or power, but now the prospect beguiled her. Mumma had told her to be a woman who did things rather than have things done to her. Now, with good fortune and determination, she might be about to follow that advice.

  Garth washed his hands of Desire, its walls beginning to rise out of the raw earth. ‘I’m a cattle man and prospector,’ he said. ‘I’ll never be smart enough for this place.’

  In any case, there was more to be done up the Carlisle River. He had discovered that surveys of the area had already been carried out. The reports made dismal reading. ‘They say there’s nothing there.’

  ‘We saw it, didn’t we?’ Bella said. ‘What have they done? Flown over it.’

  ‘They’ve also got experts and the latest scientific instruments.’

  They took it up with the Canberra Bureau of Mineral Resources but had no joy there, either.

  ‘They say we’re talking through our hats,’ Garth said when he got the bureau’s reply. ‘There’ve been several surveys, some by the government, others by mining companies, and none of them came up with anything. Their instruments showed no variation at all.’

  ‘Are you saying we never saw what we saw?’

  ‘I’m telling you what’s in the letter.’

  ‘What you need to do is go in with an expert and have a proper look. Then we’ll know what’s really there.’

  Garth knew it made sense, yet to take into his Outback some scientist with a string of letters after his name… ‘What the hell would he know?’

  It went against every instinct and, when he heard the fee Saul Rich was demanding, he became even more hostile to the idea.

  ‘What’s he trying to do, buy the whole field?’

  The way it turned out, things were not as bad as he had feared. Saul was an American but proved the sort of companion any man would choose to take on a trip into the Outback. A mining consultant, certainly, but also a human being with a keen eye for the beauties of the Australian bush. He was young, tough, resourceful, with a pragmatic approach to the law that endeared him to Garth at once.

  Garth explained that what they were planning was, strictly speaking, against the spirit of the regulations imposed by the state government that prohibited prospecting. It didn’t faze Saul one bit.

  ‘It’ll be a pleasure to disregard such a stupid rule,’ he said. ‘Almost a duty, one might say. In any case, who said anything about prospecting? We’re out here, two friends innocently enjoying the scenery.’

  He certainly loved what Garth was showing him. ‘A great country,’ he said. ‘A man can breathe out here.’

  ‘Don’t you have open spaces in America?’

  ‘Not where I come from.’

  ‘And where is that?’

  ‘New York City,’ he said.

  They had flown in on the Cessna, with every square inch taken up by the trappings of Saul’s trade.

  ‘You really need all this junk?’

  ‘This is only half of it. I shall need you to go back for the rest.’

  ‘How long do you expect us to stay out here?’

  ‘For you, just as long as it takes to show me what you found.’

  ‘I’m not paying you five thousand quid for that,’ Garth said. ‘I already know it.’

  ‘Sure you do. That’s just the start of it. You show me, then you get the hell out and leave me to do my job.’

  ‘And if I want to stay?’

  Saul shook his head. ‘I don’t work like that.’

  ‘How do I know you’ll be straight with me?’

  ‘You don’t,’ Saul said. ‘But that’s the way it is.’

  ‘Take it or leave it?’

  ‘You got it. But there is one thing I shall want you to do when I’ve finished the ground work.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I want you to rig a camera on the Cessna, then we’ll fly over the area I’ve examined and take photographs.’

  ‘How long’s all this likely to take?’

  ‘Could be two weeks, I guess. Maybe three. Assuming there’s anything to see. Drop by in two weeks, I’ll tell you if I’ve found anything.’

  ‘It’s there,’ Garth said.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Saul Rich said.

  Garth fetched the rest of Saul’s equipment.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Bella asked.

  ‘Bloody delivery boy, that’s me,’ Garth said.

  Banished from his own mining site and driven mad by the frenzied comings and goings in Perth, Garth flew north. To see, as he put it, whether Miranda Downs was still there. It was and he even managed to squeeze in another muster before he headed south again.

  Saul Rich had set up his camp ten miles from the original site and Garth had to circle for several minutes before he found a safe place to land. It made him mad. Safely on the ground at last, he marched purposefully towards Saul, who was watching him from fifty yards away. When he was halfway he began to shout. ‘What the hell have you moved here for? For a minute I didn’t think I’d be able to land at all.’

  ‘Good afternoon to you, too,’ Saul drawled. ‘A great day, is it not?’

  Garth succeeded in controlling his fury although both men knew it would take little to set him off again.

  ‘I asked what you were doing here?’

  ‘What you are paying me for. Seeing what lies under the ground.’

  Garth became aware of a pattern of holes that Saul had drilled across the open ground, each with a small red flag flying from it.

  ‘As far as this? It must be ten miles, at least.’

  ‘It is twelve miles and a third. And I moved here because it is too far to walk from the original site.’

>   ‘You’re not telling me you’ve found ore here as well.’

  ‘No, sir. I am not telling you that. I am telling you nothing. But if you would care to come back in one week’s time, I should be able to let you have my report. One week, Mr Tucker. Not a day before.’

  ‘What’s it looking like?’

  Saul smiled and shook his head. ‘One week, Mr Tucker.’

  Garth could have hit him, except it would have served no purpose. Instead he eased his feelings by punching the fuselage as he climbed aboard.

  Once he reached altitude he looked back. Saul Rich was walking purposefully from one flag to the next, completely oblivious to his recent visitor.

  A week later, to the hour, Garth was back.

  This time Saul had packed up his gear and was waiting for him. It was a hot, dry day with a light wind scouring veils of dust from the parched land. Garth helped Saul stow as much of his equipment as the plane would hold.

  ‘Now I suppose you’ll tell me I gotta come back for the rest of your junk,’ Garth said.

  ‘Yes sir, that is exactly what I am telling you.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  There was a mahogany box the size of a small briefcase that Saul would not relinquish, even when Garth tried to take it from him to put aboard the plane.

  The consultant said nothing, even after they were strapped in again, the door closed and the aircraft taxiing.

  That’s it, then, Garth thought. He’s found nothing. Five thousand quid down the gurgler and nothing to show for it.

  He waited until the Cessna had gained altitude and was settled on its southerly course. Saul Rich scratched his neck, looked out of the window at the dust-veiled ground two thousand feet below and whistled softly to himself.

  I was a fool to think I knew more than the experts, Garth thought. How could I, with all their experience and equipment?

  He didn’t want to hear what the consultant had to tell him but supposed he might as well get it over with. Then they could put all this nonsense behind them and get back to something he understood: cattle.

  ‘I thought you wanted aerial photographs,’ he said.

  ‘I guess they won’t be necessary, after all,’ Saul said.

  That was it, then.