‘I’ve upset a few people.’
‘Maybe you should keep your head down for a few days. Maybe you should stay on the boat, too.’
‘The thought had crossed my mind, but I’m waiting to be invited.’
Tasso laughed. ‘You’re a slow worker, my friend. But whatever you do, don’t go home for a while. Stay in a hotel somewhere, if not on the boat.’
‘I’m worried about Melody. Harlin won’t rest until he hurts her again.’
‘She’ll be okay. The boat is being watched.’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’
He stood up and walked to the full-length window overlooking Adelaide Oval. ‘Where are we up to with Ecstasy Lake?’ he said.
‘You’ve submitted the exploration lease application, right?’
‘Right.’
‘So is there anything else we need to do?’
‘In terms of the application, no, unless you want to butter up the minister a bit more.’
‘It’s possible to overdo that sort of thing.’
‘He has that contract I gave you?’
‘I believe he has. He would have received it last week.’
‘But you haven’t heard his reaction.’
‘No.’ Tasso thought for a moment. ‘Maybe I will contact the bugger. Invite him for a drink, a discreet drink. My hotel room.’ He picked up the phone and asked Fern to put a call through. We waited for her to call back.
‘There’s something else that’s bothering me,’ said Tasso. ‘A loose end.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘The contract between Hiskey and me. As I said before, it’s not a smoking gun. It doesn’t incriminate me or Goanna Mining. But I still want to know where Hiskey’s copy is. I don’t want it surfacing at the wrong moment. So what the hell did Hiskey do with it?’
‘Remind me how long he had it before he was killed.’
‘A few days. He came to the office before he went up north. We both signed and he took his copy with him. He went up north the next day or the day after. And then he was murdered the night he got back.’
The phone rang and Tasso answered it. ‘Hello, Minister,’ he said in a jovial voice, winking at me. As he smooched with the minister I thought about Hiskey’s contract. I thought of an avenue we hadn’t explored. Tasso hung up the phone. ‘He’s busy tonight, but he thinks he can get away tomorrow by about seven. You come along, too. My place.’
‘Alright.’
‘What about Hiskey’s contract?’
‘I’ve had a thought. I’ll let you know.’
Adelaide was just big enough to have a street—or at least half a street—dedicated to sleaze. By day, Hindley Street was a place of greasy food outlets and locked doors. Come night, the greasy food outlets would still be there and doing a roaring trade, and the locked doors would be unlocked and the low-lights would be on and there would be beautiful, bored, erotic girls inside who would make promises with their eyes they wouldn’t keep, except maybe to those with enough gold in their pockets. And the lonely and intoxicated would enter, for a fee, and sit there clinging to their drinks and their dreams.
But it was still morning, and the street had a menopausal look about it. The End of the World Hotel was open and I walked in. The place was empty except for Marianne, Hiskey’s girlfriend, punching numbers into the till; not even the Professor of Alcohol was in his corner yet.
‘Remember me?’
She looked up. ‘Yeah, you were at Mick’s funeral.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you followed me back here. Westie, wasn’t it? What can I do for you?’
It was early in the day for a drink, but I thought one wouldn’t hurt. ‘A schooner of Pale.’
She pulled the beer. I remembered how she had been on the day of the funeral, worn and tear-streaked with grief. There was less sorrow in her face now, but no more happiness.
‘I wanted to ask you something.’ I sipped my beer.
‘Yes?’
‘Did Mick leave any stuff with you?’
‘What sort of stuff?’
‘Papers, letters, notes, that sort of thing.’
She had intelligent brown eyes. ‘I have a box of his stuff. I haven’t looked at it. I don’t know what’s in it.’
‘Could I see it?’
‘Has Sonia sent you?’
‘No. As far as I know she doesn’t even know you exist. I’m working with Tasso at Goanna Mining. We don’t get along with Sonia.’
‘In that case, yes, you may have a look through the box. In fact, you can have it.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I finish early today. Come to my place at six and you can pick it up.’ She wrote her address on a scrap of paper.
She lived in a suburb in the northern badlands, a small and not very attractive fibreboard place shielded at the front by a couple of peach trees, laden with fruit. A small white car was parked in the driveway. There was a weathered Aussie Rules footy and the carcass of a motorbike under the trees. Boys, I thought. There was a strong smell of ripe peaches. I rang the doorbell and Marianne greeted me and invited me in. She led me to the kitchen and asked if I wanted a cup of tea. She boiled water and put two teabags into a pot. There was a photo in a frame on the wall showing two lads with mischievous grins.
‘They’re my boys,’ she said. ‘They’re bigger, now. Big boofy teenage boys.’ She rolled her eyes in mock horror. We sat at the kitchen table, separated by a fruit bowl. ‘My husband pissed off a long time ago and left me to raise those two on my own. I’ve worked all my life to do what I could for them. They’re good boys, but they’re wild. They’re all wild out here.’ She poured tea into two cups, and while I took my first few sips she left the room and came back with a cardboard box. ‘This was Mick’s.’ She put it on the table and removed the lid. It was about a quarter full with paper. ‘Were you looking for anything in particular?’
‘Not really.’
She reached into the box and pulled out the document on the top.
‘Not this?’ She handed it to me. It was on the letterhead of a major legal firm and looked very much like a contract between Goanna Mining and Hiskey. ‘You mentioned you worked for Goanna Mining.’
‘Yes.’
She sipped her tea. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to claim Mick’s ten per cent share of the company or anything like that. We weren’t married. We weren’t even de facto. I was just a girlfriend of his.’
‘I wasn’t worrying.’
‘I hadn’t looked in the box until this afternoon. I’m only a barmaid, but I can read. I don’t think you’re being completely frank with me.’
‘You’re right. It’s what I was looking for.’
‘I don’t suppose it’s any of my business.’
I didn’t say anything. I glanced at her serious brown eyes. I didn’t feel I could hide much from them.
‘When you followed me to the bar after the funeral, I told you that Mick and I had things in common. Do you remember?’
‘Yes.’
‘One of them was a love of country.’ I looked at her blankly. ‘I’m Aboriginal, Westie.’ I still wasn’t making the connection. ‘My father was white, my mother was half-caste—they still used that term in those days—from near Parakilla. They came to live in Adelaide and I was born here, and Mum died when I was nine. But my country is up there. Mick talked a lot about his exploration work when he was sitting at the bar, how he loved it up north. We worked out he’d spent a heap of time in my country. It was what drew us together.’
‘So you know Joe Bettong?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I know Joe Bettong. But I haven’t been back to Parakilla since I was a girl, not since my mother died. I should have gone back, I should have taken the boys. But I grew up white. Aboriginal kids got teased at school.’ She shook her head. ‘No, it was much worse than teasing. They got racially abused, every damn day of their lives. So I decided to be white. I have light skin; most of the time I got away with it. I was ashamed to be Aboriginal. So ashamed. I
was petrified someone would find out.’
‘And now?’
‘And now I realise I was stupid.’ She blinked hard, several times. ‘I need to go back there. I need to find out what it means to me. It’s my country. They’re my people. I turned away from them and I haven’t had the courage to go back. I was going to go with Mick. He said he would take me.’ She took another sip of her tea.
I put the contract back in the box and fitted the lid over it. She put her hand on the lid.
‘I think I can trust you, Steve. I know why you want the contract, and you may take it and everything else. I only ask one thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘That you remember this if the time ever comes when you have to deal with my people.’
Tasso was still in the office when I got back. I handed him the contract.
‘Where did you get this?’
I told him the story.
‘Mick Hiskey is surprising me more in death than he did in life,’ said Tasso. He put the contract in the shredder and we watched it disappear.
29
I was late getting to Tasso’s penthouse suite for drinks with the minister. Appleyard, the kiss-arse, was there to usher me in, doubly excited to have both the Deputy Premier and One of the State’s Richest Men in the building.
‘Do let me know if I can do anything for you, Mr West,’ he said as I exited the lift.
‘Do disappear up your own clacker,’ I said, after the lift door had closed.
The minister had come without Gloomy Dick, his advisor, and was in fine form. I arrived as he was telling Tasso and Fern the story of Harlin’s bungled arrest.
‘As I understand it,’ he said, ‘the results of the test on the hammer that Steve here found—hello, Steve—the results came in on Sunday afternoon because we’d put a priority on it and paid the cunts overtime to get it done, excuse my language, Fern. Hiskey’s blood and Harlin’s fingerprints are all over the damn thing. So the Star Force is organised to make the arrest and about ten of them turn up at Harlin’s fortress. Two of them ring the buzzer on the intercom outside the gate.’ He used his finger to push an imaginary buzzer. ‘When they get an answer they say they’re the police and they’re there to arrest Mr Christopher John Harlin or whatever his name is and can you please open the fucken gate. At which point whoever’s on the intercom tells them to go away and do something physically impossible, at least I think it is. So the Star Force guys cut a hole in the fence and storm in and round up half a dozen bikies, not without a bit of a scuffle, none of them Harlin. It seems that Harlin has a tunnel that no one knew about and while the Star Force is attacking the fence with their Jaws of Death, Harlin is making off across the saltpans. Hasn’t been seen since. Thank you, Fern.’ The minister had finished his glass of champagne, and Fern had refilled it for him and poured a glass for me. The three of them were sitting on couches in front of the full-length window. Outside, the light was fading.
‘So it was a balls-up,’ said Tasso.
‘Yes, in a nutshell,’ said the minister. ‘Or a ball sack, if you prefer, har har.’ He held his champagne glass aloft. ‘But enough about that. Now that Steve’s here, I propose a toast. To the quick capture of Harlin and the imminent success of Goanna Mining.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Tasso. ‘Although I point out that the two are not related.’ We drank. ‘We submitted an exploration lease application recently.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘I think applications have closed now for those particular leases.’
‘I believe so.’ The minister was churning through his champagne. ‘The details of the application process are confidential, of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘Changing the subject,’ said the minister, ‘I had a meeting with Mick Hiskey’s widow last night, which was why I was unavailable.’ There was something about the minister’s manner that suggested he was busting to tell us a second story.
‘I see,’ said Tasso.
‘In fact, I not only met Mrs Hiskey, but also her mother.’
‘Jenny.’
‘Yes, charming woman. The two of them are a formidable pair. They were also interested in the application process, same as you.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘I’m not telling you a secret when I say that Black Hill has also submitted an application for the leases. I’m sure you knew they would, and anyway you’ll receive a letter in a day or two telling you so. Mrs Hiskey and Jenny wanted to know if I could be persuaded to make a decision on the leases in their favour.’
‘They wanted to know if you were open to bribes?’
The minister looked uncomfortable for a second, possibly less. ‘I wouldn’t have put it in those terms.’
‘And what did you say, Minister?’
‘I told them it was difficult. After a while, Mrs Hiskey—Sonia—became discouraged, and left. Jenny seemed to think I could still be persuaded.’ He swirled the remnants of his champagne and contemplated them. Then he looked up. ‘She clearly set out to seduce me, I kid you not. She can be quite seductive when she puts her mind to it.’
Fern looked disgusted, but the minister didn’t care. He was grinning and waiting for a little more prompting.
‘And how did you react, Minister?’
‘Well, eventually I told her that the decision wasn’t up to me and that ultimately it’s the director of mines who makes calls like that, based on the recommendation of an independent panel. I told her she was welcome to try seducing the director of mines and all six members of the panel. Or at least a majority of them.’
‘What did she do when you said that?’
‘She slapped my face, put her clothes back on, and left.’
Tasso laughed, I laughed and Fern laughed, despite herself, and the minister laughed loudest of all.
‘What a woman,’ said the minister. I tried to imagine an ambition so big it would make you sleep with this slob. I couldn’t, and I wondered if the story was even true.
‘What a woman indeed,’ said Tasso. ‘The things mothers will do for their children.’
‘Steady on,’ said the minister, having calmed himself. ‘She didn’t suffer during the act, let’s put it that way.’
Fern snorted.
‘I can tell you, Minister, that I won’t be engaging in the same tactic to win favour,’ said Tasso. We all laughed again. The minister looked at Fern.
‘Do not go there,’ she said.
‘You’re a fiery one.’
‘I heard a rumour, Minister,’ said Tasso, ‘that Black Hill has some shady part-owners. I would have thought that would exclude them from applying.’
The minister held up a hand. ‘Now, Tasso, you know I can’t discuss privileged information like that.’
‘Sure.’
‘What I can say is that a process has been initiated and that all applicants will be given a fair hearing, regardless of documents turning up anonymously. And that the decision will be made based on the merits of the application.’
‘So as it stands, Black Hill is still in the running,’ I said, just to be sure.
‘Yes, at least until there is incontrovertible, admissible evidence that it is not a fit applicant. And I think I did pretty well to say that on three glasses of champagne.’
‘You did, Minister.’
The minister held out his glass for a refill, and Fern obliged.
‘I’m not going to be in politics forever,’ he said. ‘To tell you the truth, I sometimes think I’ve already had enough of it.’
‘The state will be the poorer when you retire.’
The minister chortled. ‘Cut it out, Tasso. The state won’t give a shit. Anyway, there’s an election coming up. We’ll soon find out what the state thinks.’
‘I think this state’s problem, this city’s problem, is that it lacks vision. It could be great.’
‘I know you think so, Tasso. I recall a robust discussion on the topic at our dinner the other night. I recall
being robustly scolded by you, Fern.’ Fern smiled, a little.
‘Conservative thinking is holding us back,’ said Tasso. ‘The problem with Adelaide is that it’s so far from anywhere it has been ignored by the world, and it has ignored the world. But that’s over now. Globalisation. There’s not a place in the world, not a person in the world, who can escape it. The world is changing. Adelaide has to go with it. We could be riding it. My point is, Minister, you can help change it.’
I had been standing by the bookcase and picked up the lump of quartzite I had seen on the day I had arrived back in Adelaide.
‘Give me that for a second, Steve,’ said Tasso. I obliged. ‘See this, Minister?’
‘Yes. It’s a rock.’
‘It is.’
‘I’m not the minister for mining for nothing.’ He laughed loudly.
‘Hiskey gave me this rock. It’s from the exploration area.’ Tasso held it out. ‘Take it, give it a good feel.’
The minister hefted the rock in his hand. ‘It’s a very nice rock, Tasso.’ He turned it over; it looked pretty much the same from all angles.
‘There’s nothing very special about it, Minister,’ said Tasso. ‘Except that it’s loaded with gold.’ It was a fair exaggeration, because at most it contained a hundredth of a gram, but ‘loaded’ sounded better. The minister was suddenly interested in the rock. ‘There’s gold in that mining lease,’ said Tasso. ‘A lot of gold. Hiskey knew it, I know it. I will find it and I will dig it out and I will bring it to this city.’
‘You do that, Tasso. Bring us gold. Bring us a heap of gold.’
‘I can’t bring you anything without the lease, Minister.’
‘I hear you, Tasso. Let’s have a toast.’
Tasso called for more champagne and asked the minister if he’d like to stay for dinner and the minister said he didn’t have any other plans and would be glad to and I wondered how they’d get the bastard home. I also wondered if I could stomach a second full evening with the minister, but then my phone rang. It was Melody. She asked me if maybe I’d like to see her tonight. I said maybe I would, and she said she would cook dinner if I hadn’t already eaten. I said I hadn’t and would be there ASAP. I excused myself from the party and headed to the marina.
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