‘Have you any weapons up here at the mine?’ I asked.
‘Of course not. We run the mine, that’s all. This is PNG territory. They’re shareholders in it, and they look after the Civil Administration. It would happen when Bill is away in Melbourne. I’m just a mining engineer. I’m not interested in politics.’
At the cut-off to the offices I stopped the car, suggesting that he and Perry went in on foot. ‘We’ll wait for you here in case you want to get out in a hurry.’
‘Okay. If we find they’ve occupied the offices, I’ll send Fred back. See if you can get him down to the power station. I’ll be staying here.’ The two of them went off up the road, their figures blending into the shadows. Perenna and I sat there in the darkness waiting. Ahead the tree-covered outline of the pass was a black shadow against the sky. The murmur of the mine was just audible from the dust bowl behind us. There was no other sound.
‘Do you know where the transmitter is?’ I asked. But of course she didn’t. I was thinking about that, certain it must be somewhere up here where the radio mast would be clear of the mountains, when I saw a shadow moving down the road from the offices. I switched on the ignition, the lights showing Perry running towards us.
They had found the offices just as we had left them, the girl still there on her own. No vehicles had driven in from the coast. They had tested the telex, and it was still working.
‘Has he sent a message out?’
‘No.’
‘He doesn’t believe us, is that it?’ I started to get out of the car, but he stopped me.
‘He wants me to go down to Anewa and check on the situation there. He refuses to do anything until he knows for sure, but if I don’t report back by ten tonight, then he’ll send that telex.’ He got in beside me. ‘What do you think has happened to those trucks that were following us?’
‘We’ll soon know.’ I started the engine, then hesitated, wondering whether to go up to the office myself and get Tooley to send to Port Moresby while it was still possible. But what would he tell them? In his shoes I would be reluctant to stick my neck out on the hearsay of a young engineer and two strangers. Nobody likes making a fool of himself, and anyway, perhaps it wasn’t part of the plan to cut off all communication with the outside world. ‘Let’s see where they’ve got to,’ I said, and drove off up the road to the pass.
We reached the head of the pass, came out of the defile and started down round the buttress to the loop that ran out on to a shoulder of the mountain. When I reached the hairpin, I switched off the lights, pulled on to the verge and stopped the car. Far down the shadowy scar that marked the twisting line of the road tiny figures moved in the glow-worm lights of two vehicles drawn up side by side. I turned to Perry. ‘Isn’t that where the road goes over a gulley?’
He nodded, sitting tense, his head thrust forward as he peered through the windscreen.
The stars were very bright now, the mountain slopes dark in shadow. If they intended to cut the mine off from the coast, that was the obvious place to do it. ‘Are there explosives down at Anewa?’
‘Probably.’ He nodded. ‘We use a lot of explosives for blasting the ore. Yes, I think there’s bound to be some in store at the port.’
‘And this road is the only way out?’
‘There’s the old tote road, also a rough track that follows the line of the Jaba River to the other side of the island. And of course, we’ve got helicopters. But as far as vehicles are concerned, yes. If they blow the road and set up a guard post, then the mine is virtually sealed off from the port.’
The simplicity of it! No supplies, no spares, nothing – until terms had been agreed. And what was it they wanted? The mine couldn’t grant them independence. Perhaps it was money? ‘How much does the mine pay the Papua New Guinea government by way of taxes?’ I asked him.
‘I wouldn’t know. I suppose it’s in the yearly report. There’s royalties as well as tax. I’ve heard it said that in all it amounts to a third of the PNG annual revenue.’
‘So the islanders would be pretty rich if they could get their hands on it.’
‘Yes. But how could they possibly do that? They don’t control the armed forces in Papua New Guinea, or the police. Bougainville comes under the PNG government, and that’s in Port Moresby.’ He sat there for a moment longer, staring intently at the lights on the road below. Suddenly he opened his door and got out. ‘I’ll drive now.’ He came round to my side. ‘I suggest you and Miss Holland wait here. No point in risking your necks. If I don’t get through, then you can walk back to the mine.’ He had pulled open my door. ‘Come on. It’s my car, my problem.’
‘What do you propose to do?’
‘Talk to them, find out what it’s all about.’ His voice was tense, and by the look on his face I knew he had made up his mind. ‘If they won’t let me through, then I’ll come back and pick you up.’
I got out of the car. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But don’t do anything stupid. They’ll be armed.’
He nodded, settling himself in the driving seat. Perenna got out. ‘Why are you doing this? You don’t have to. Leave it to the manager.’
He gave her a nervous little smile. ‘I happen to believe in what we’re trying to do here. We’ve achieved so much.’ And when she started to argue, he said, ‘Believe me, I know. I lecture in my spare time at the Technical College.’
He started the engine then, and she seized hold of my arm. ‘Stop him,’ she said urgently, her face white in the glow of the lights. ‘He doesn’t understand. They’re from Buka, and this is Cargo. The mine is the biggest Cargo they’ve ever had.’
He smiled at her again, trying to appear confident. ‘I’ve been here six years altogether. I guess I know as much about these people as anyone. I’ll be all right.’
‘Just one thing,’ I said. ‘You mentioned an old tote road. Where is it?’
‘About halfway between here and those trucks. It crosses the highway at the second loop of the double hairpin. But it hasn’t been used in years. If you’re thinking of walking out … Here, take the torch.’ He passed it to me, and then, with a quick wave of the hand, he started down the hill.
‘You should have stopped him.’ Her hand was still on my arm, and I could feel her trembling. ‘He doesn’t realise what they’re like. Cargo is magic. It’s like a religion. They’re not open to reason when they’re in the grip of it. If he tries to stop them, they’ll cut him to pieces.’
‘Better sit down,’ I said. ‘Nothing you can do about it now, and we may have a long, rough walk ahead of us.’
We sat there on the gravel verge, watching the blaze of his lights dwindle as the car swung down under the scarred terraces of the mountainside. They disappeared for a time behind the buttress that hid the double hairpin, then came into view again, a tiny glow now as he came on to the final straight before the gulley. He was driving fast, and the figures moving in the lights of the truck froze. I thought I saw the glint of a gun barrel; then he was slowing down. Finally he stopped, the car’s lights shining on the little group in front of the trucks. They waved him back, but he was out of the car now and walking towards them.
Time passed – a minute, perhaps two, the huddle of men moving closer to him. One of them held a gun. I saw it distinctly as he ran past him, and Perry, turning, was suddenly engulfed. I couldn’t see him after that. ‘The fool!’ Perenna breathed. ‘The stupid, quixotic fool!’
‘He’ll be all right,’ I said. But I wasn’t at all sure. It depended how tensed up they were. But at least we had heard no sound of a shot.
His car was driven on past the trucks and parked down the road. After that there was a burst of almost frenzied activity. It went on for about ten minutes, and then the trucks were started up and manoeuvred back and forth until they were turned and could be driven down to park behind the car. We waited, certain of what was going to happen as tiny figures straggled down the road to crouch in the shelter of the vehicles. Suddenly the road surface burst upwards in a flash
of flame and smoke. The sound of the explosion followed, a protracted, rattling boom that reverberated against the mountain slopes and slowly died away in the distance.
‘Well, that’s that,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘You going back to the mine or coming on with me to find that tote road?’
She didn’t seem to hear, still sitting there, her eyes wide and shocked, a frozen look on her face. ‘They’d never have thought of that on their own.’ She looked up at me. ‘It’s all been so carefully planned – the arms, the way they’ve taken over the vital centres, everything. But what does he hope to get out if it?’
‘Who?’ I was still gazing intently at what was happening on the road below.
‘Hans, of course. It has to be Hans. The arms, the trucks, the timing … ’ Her voice was low and husky, barely audible. ‘But why? What does he want?’
I wasn’t at all certain about that myself. There was no smelting operation on Bougainville. The gold and silver weren’t separated from the copper; it was shipped out as a mineral concentrate. I had checked that with Tooley. ‘Bulk cargo contracts, I imagine. According to your brother, when he was in England, he was looking for another ship.’
She didn’t seem to take that in, sitting hunched on the gravel, grasping her knees. ‘Power,’ she whispered. ‘He’s a man who wants to dominate everything – everybody.’ A shudder ran through her. And then, not looking at me, still in a whisper, speaking her thoughts aloud: ‘He fascinates me and appals me … he’s … ’ She seemed to choke on the words, falling silent, her mood tense, overwrought. I sat down again, and she gripped hold of my hand, very tight. There was a long silence, and I waited, knowing she wanted to tell me something, needed to explain. Finally, in a small voice, she said, ‘Roy. I’m scared – scared of him, of myself – everything. How’s it going to end?’ And under her breath she murmured, ‘God, what a mess!’
I was still waiting, expecting her to tell me what it was that so appalled her. But she just sat there, wrapped in silent misery. In the end, I asked her about the day he had visited them at Aldeburgh. I knew it had to be that. ‘Tell me what happened,’ I said gently.
She shook her head slowly. ‘No.’ She was like a child lost in darkness, some terrible darkness of her own making. I shifted my position, put my arm round her shoulders. She was shivering, but not with cold. ‘One day perhaps …’ And she turned to me, burying her head in my shoulder. ‘Don’t ask me, not now. Not till I’m ready.’ She was crying now, crying because something had happened, something in that house that could never be wiped from her memory. ‘Hold me. Just hold me.’
I held her, and gradually the shivering ceased. After a while she lifted her head and pulled away. ‘Silly of me.’ She had her handkerchief out and got quickly to her feet. ‘I’m sorry. I get these moods sometimes.’ Her voice was firmer. ‘Maybe it’s the mixed blood. We’re a bit of a mixture, you know.’ She said it with forced gaiety. ‘Come on.’ She reached down and took hold of my hand, pulling me to my feet. ‘Let’s see what that old tote road is like.’
‘It will be badly overgrown,’ I warned her. ‘Probably take us all night to reach the ship. Are you sure you want—’
‘The ship! Of course. I’d almost forgotten.’ Her face, her whole mood was suddenly brighter. ‘If we can find Jona, he can take us out of here.’
I didn’t think Jona would be much help, but I didn’t tell her so as we started down the road. The trucks were driving off now, leaving the car still parked there, just visible in the starlight. And when the glow of the trucks’ lights had finally been swallowed up in the night, there was no glimmer of light anywhere, the world a darkened silence, broken only by the distant murmur of water and the periodic croaking of frogs or toads.
Chapter Seven
We had reached the first loop of the double hairpin and were standing on the verge, trying to make out the line of the tote road, when a glimmer of light showed from down the slope towards Anewa. We stood, watching in silence, as it climbed steadily towards us. There was sudden movement where the road had been blown, three figures standing by the parked car. The sound of an engine came to us faintly as the twin lights of the approaching vehicle emerged from the trees. It was being driven fast, and soon the headlights were shining full on the three armed men, all black, their fuzzy mops of hair distinctly visible. The car stopped just short of them, the headlights dipped now.
Two men got out, and I heard Perenna give a little gasp as they moved forward into the beam of the headlights to talk to the guards. One of them wore a white shirt, and his hair was red in the lights. I couldn’t be certain who the other was, only that he was an islander. They stood there for a moment, talking, and then the whole group walked up the road to stand on the edge of the dark line where the charges had blasted the surface. The beam of a torch showed, a pinpoint of light sweeping the gap in the tarmac.
Hans Holland and his companion were there about ten minutes. Then they went back to their car. We watched as the headlights blazed on the figures of the men standing there, the weapons in their hands clearly visible, then swept the red rock of the gulley edge as the car turned. ‘So you’re right,’ I said.
Perenna nodded. ‘I said it was Hans. It had to be. Nobody from the Buka villages could have planned this.’ Her words, whispering in the night, had an undertone of excitement. It was almost as if, against her will, she admired the man for what he was doing. Pictures of Nazis, seen in old films, flickered through my mind. The figure had been tiny, but even at that distance I couldn’t help noticing a swagger in his walk.
‘For tonight,’ I said, ‘he’s a sort of Führer, a little Napoleon.’
She didn’t say anything, standing very still, gazing intently as the car’s lights dwindled, so intently that I suddenly had the feeling her mind was reaching out to him, that she was imagining herself in that car, a part of the plan he had conceived. Then she seemed to collect herself, and in a cool voice she said, ‘Better get started if it’s going to take us all night.’
I nodded, and we moved back on to the tarmac, walking quickly down to the second bend, where the old road was just visible in the starlight. To scramble down to it would be rough, the darkness of the valley full of croakings. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’ She was standing on the road, staring down into the forest growth below.
‘You couldn’t help it,’ I said, thinking she meant the drive up to the mine. But she shook her head. ‘Tim, I mean. I shouldn’t have left him. I didn’t realise—’ She hesitated. ‘It’s all so different, and now this plan … I can’t do anything for Tim here.’
But I was still thinking of Hans Holland inspecting the blown road like the commander of a military operation.
‘You think he’ll pull it off?’
‘Probably. I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘But Tim needs me. I know that – I feel it. And there’s nothing I can do, no way I can help him. Only pray …’ She looked up at me suddenly, her eyes luminously large in the dark. ‘Have you ever prayed? I mean, really prayed.’ She sensed my hesitation and added, ‘I tried prayer in Aldeburgh. But it didn’t work. I think – deep down … I found myself believing, but not in God, in something else … the powers of darkness, evil, I don’t know what, but it was there in my heart. It scared me. Even there, in England, it scared me. And now, out here—’ My hand was on her arm, and I felt a shiver run through her. ‘It’s stronger out here.’
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘If we’re going to get back to the ship, we’d better get started.’
‘Yes, the ship.’ She squared her shoulders, bracing herself. ‘Jona’s different, isn’t he? Much more practical, a seaman, no imagination …’ She forced a little laugh, and then she had stepped off the verge and started down the bulldozed debris of the steep slope leading to the shadow line of the old road. It was a hard scramble, requiring all our concentration so that we didn’t talk, either then or when we reached the tote road, for the line of it ran close below the highway and with every step down the remains
of the steep track we were approaching the gulley. I dared not use the torch, so that our progress was slow. In places the track was completely obliterated by the rubble of the roadworks above, and there were muddy stretches where the rainwater lay trapped.
It took us over half an hour to reach the gulley. There were trees to our right, and it was very dark, only the sound of water to indicate that we were right below the guards. The track here dropped steeply down the face of the mountain range, and we were a long time scrambling through the tangle of new forest growth that had almost obliterated it. Finally, well hidden from the highway, I began using the torch.
I think if we hadn’t returned to the highway, we should never have made it, for the lower we went, the worse the going became, the jungle growth almost impenetrable and patches of swamp water. It was past midnight and we were both of us very tired when I finally made the decision to force our way up the slope to the road. We reached it just over an hour later, hot and dirty, our clothes torn and soaked with sweat. After that it was easy, just a long downhill walk. Twice we had to seek shelter among the trees, once for a car going up full of men and again when it came down. Presumably the guard at the gulley was being relieved.
It was during that long walk down the highway that my mind began to grapple with the implications of what was happening. Now that I was sure Hans Holland was behind it, I tried to put myself in his shoes, but the more I thought about it, the less I understood it. It was quite inconceivable that he could hold such a large and important company to ransom, a company that had international connections and a worldwide market. And if it wasn’t money but power he was after, how could he possibly achieve that with three or four old landing craft and a group of Cargo-crazy islanders? Tooley was probably correct in saying that the mine administration tried to keep clear of politics, but even if the white expatriates stood by and did nothing, there was a large workforce drawn from Bougainville and other islands in and around the Solomons. How would they react? And the fact that Papua New Guinea had only become independent a few years back would not prevent them from reacting very vigorously to the threat of secession, particularly as Bougainville provided such a large slice of their revenue. And any action they took would presumably have the moral support of the UN, the co-operation of those countries where the copper was marketed and the active support of the Australian government.
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