Flood country Page 5

  ‘You should tread carefully. Wellsmore’s been here a long time and has some powerful friends in this community,’ Pip warned.

  Pip and Jack chatted for a while, conversation flowing easily. Pip drew it to an abrupt close, for now at least, by declaring, ‘Got to go. Have another job in a little while, bit of mustering work not far from Mike’s. I might see you and the ‘battery bus’ on the road maybe.’ From the grin he could tell that her nickname for his Prius amused Pip.

  Jack headed back to the motel. In a few minutes he had the photos downloaded from the camera onto his laptop, and just for insurance emailed the best few to his office in Sydney. Why did I do that, he thought—am I getting nervous?

  Jack had seen the office building with the NSW Department of Water Resources logo out front the previous day so he returned hoping to catch Mr Wellsmore. He approached the reception counter and was confronted by a very grumpy-looking older woman with short permed hair and pink half-rim glasses. Her name tag said ‘Barbara’.

  ‘Good morning, Barbara,’ he said, hoping her demeanour was better than the frown indicated, ‘I was wondering if it would be possible to see Peter Wellsmore?’

  Barbara gazed at him from across the top of her half rims and replied, ‘I’m sorry sir, that won’t be possible. Mr Wellsmore has gone on extended sick leave. We’re not sure when he will be back, if at all.’

  Jack was rocked by this news, ‘Can I ask when he left, please Barbara?’ being super nice.

  ‘It was yesterday, sir. Came as a bit of a shock to all of us here. Such a dear man.’

  The coincidence was too remarkable. Jack knew now this was escalating, and that it was as big as Mike had suggested. Where to next, he wondered.

  Chapter 12

  Before heading back to Mike’s, Jack decided to make one more call, to the local paper—the Dawson Times. The shopfront looked a bit sad and tired; just a block down from the super-slick office of the local MP, John Burton. Entering, he heard a voice coming from a back office, and someone was typing on a keyboard. The building was dark and musty; there were papers falling off tables and chairs and tattered looking notices about local events pinned to a faded blue office screen. In short, a typical newspaper office, he thought.

  ‘Is there anyone there?’ Jack ventured. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Be there in a minute. Just on the phone,’ came the reply. Clearly female. Jack thought there was something familiar about the voice.

  He heard the voice ending her phone conversation and a few seconds later she emerged from behind the screen. Instant recognition.

  ‘Well, holy shit. Look what the cat threw up. If it isn’t Jack Miller looking just as cute and fuckin’ cuddly as I remember!’ she bellowed. Sharon Davis, a former colleague from the old Sydney Morning Herald days, stood there. Smiling from ear to ear, still cussing, still a little chubby, still with unkempt hair and looking like a hippy.

  ‘Sharon Davis, how the hell did you end up here?’ he asked, remembering how they had been great drinking buddies back in their junior journo days.

  ‘That’s a long story, Jack. Got time for a beer? My shout,’ she said, true to form.

  ‘A bit early for me these days. I’d love to catch up tomorrow or the next day. Maybe grab a meal somewhere?’

  ‘What a boring bastard you’ve turned into, but I will hold you to that offer. What, can I ask, are you doing here?’

  He gave Sharon a quick summary of what had happened so far, and as he got further and further into the story, her eyebrows kept arching and worry lines appeared on her forehead.

  ‘You may just be the dumbest bastard to ever wander into this town!’ she gave him her best compliment. ‘I don’t doubt anything you’ve told me, but don’t stir this pot any harder. There are some very serious vested interests in this town. Water is like gold here, and people will defend it to the death almost. For anything that valuable it’s obvious there will be people rorting the system. It’s just a given here, and for our little paper to survive we have a simple policy. Ignore it. My advice is: do the same. Go back to your cosy, uncontroversial, freelancing and let this sleeping dog lie,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you,’ Jack replied. ‘What happened to that fearless champion of the exploite? The person who used to go after big corporations or high profile, self-important celebrities pretending to be pure and virtuous?’

  ‘It may not look like it, but I’ve got a good life here. A bit of dirt, a couple of dogs, a few chooks, and a bloke that likes my awful cooking. I’ve traded my firebrand stripes for that.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ he replied, still fired up, ‘but there must be a point where that trade-off gets challenged by blatant law breaking or corruption. Any newshound, past or present, has a sense of pride in exposing those people who get rich while others go under. It’s a fundamental of journalism.’

  Sharon looked at him hard. It was obvious he’d touched a nerve. ‘Jack, get in your car and take the road to Sydney. Trust me. These guys are too big for you and me to bring down. I’ve seen others try and what happened to them. It’s not pretty. Please, take my advice. I’ll even let you off buying me dinner.’

  He didn’t think he had offered to buy her dinner, but irre-spective of that, Jack decided to leave it there. ‘I’m heading back out to Mike’s place to take stock. I may call it quits; but part of me would feel dirty forever if I did.’ He turned and walked out, letting the door slam behind him.

  Chapter 13

  Jack piloted the ‘battery bus’ (here he was calling it that now) back onto the road out to Sunset Downs, thinking it was time to take stock of the situation with Mike, Charlie and Sandie. He stopped at the local service station again, filled up, grabbed some Mars Bars to munch on during the drive, chatted briefly to the same guy he had a few days previous, and then headed out of town.

  As he drove away, Bazza at the servo picked up his mobile phone and a text message was soon winging its way to a phone sitting in the console of Vinnie’s black Land Rover 100 kilometres away. The message read, ‘journo leaving now’.

  Jack decided to listen to some music as he trekked back out to Mike’s. With his iPod’s playlist churning out great hit after great hit from the 80s and 90s, he had time to reflect on the happenings of the past 72 hours and think about what to do next. Then there was Pip to think about as well.

  The sealed road came to an end about 15 kilometres out of Dawson and Jack mentally apologised to his city car, again. Approaching a sweeping tree-lined left-hand bend a ute in front was driving slowly, stirring up a wall of dust. As Jack approached an arm appeared out the driver’s window waving him to overtake. He hesitated; then figured the other driver must be able to see, so pulled to the other side of the road to overtake. As he moved past and cleared the dust of the slower vehicle, heading straight for him was the massive bull bar of a prime mover. Shit! He took evasive action, throwing the tiny Prius back to the left; but it was too late and there was a metal-crunching impact behind his seat. The Prius was spun around violently, and then the wheels on the passenger’s side caught in the gravel and the car began to tilt up on one side. The last thing Jack saw was the world upside down as the car spiralled toward a large tree beside the road.

  As the dust settled, the occupants of the two other vehicles emerged. One said, ‘Hope you didn’t kill him, Billy. Vinnie won’t be happy if you did.’

  ‘Me too, Marcus.’ They both approached the upturned Prius with caution. Its rear wheels were still spinning. They gazed inside at the body strapped into its seat belt. They could see blood oozing from his head, and the angle of one arm suggested it might be broken. Jack was still breathing and they both heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘The boss said to get his camera and laptop, if we could,’ Marcus reminded Billy.

  ‘Easier said than done, mate,’ was Billy’s reply as he gazed in at the mess of papers and other debris now spread around the roof of the up-turned vehicle.

  Then he saw the camera a
nd reached in to retrieve it. The laptop was nearby and he seized that too. ‘Got ’em,’ he declared. ‘Now let’s get the hell out of here. I’ll see you back at the farm tomorrow. Go lie low,’ said Billy. The ute and the prime mover headed off in opposite directions.

  Chapter 14

  Pip finished the mustering job and decided to drop in to see Jack at Mike’s place. She had to admit she was starting to warm to this journo bloke. Adding it up in her head; while he was no Brad Pitt, he didn’t have a beer gut and he had a good sense of humour. Unlike most of those who had tried to pick her up since being in Dawson he could string a few words together and hadn’t tried to get her into bed yet! She also liked that he was a man on a mission with this water thing.

  She set the chopper down near Mike’s homestead, and jumped down out of the pilot’s seat. Mike was standing there, a puzzled look on his face. ‘G’day Pip, to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘Oh, I was just in the neighbourhood so I thought I’d drop in and see what you and that crazy journo are planning next,’ she replied.

  ‘Haven’t seen him,’ said Mike. ‘Thought he might’ve seen the light and buggered off,’ he laughed.

  ‘He should be here by now. He was leaving town hours ago. Unless he got delayed or that bloody tin can of his ran into a pot hole and couldn’t get out,’ Pip replied, a worried look coming over her face.

  ‘I’ll go and ring the Shady Gardens. See what time he left there. Do you know where else he was going?’ queried Mike.

  ‘He said he was going to try to catch Pete Wellsmore before heading out.’

  Mike went inside, Pip following closely behind. She could hear Mike’s side of the conversation with the motel, and clearly Jack had left there about three hours ago. Mike then rang the Department of Water Resources. Barbara at reception informed him that Jack didn’t get to see Peter Wellsmore, and why. Mike hung up.

  ‘Well, what do you know. Pete Wellsmore’s health has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. He’s on indefinite sick leave. How convenient,’ Mike said sarcastically. ‘It’s a worry that Jack’s not here yet. Maybe we should go looking for him?’

  ‘Come on, jump in the chopper. That’ll be the quickest,’ said Pip, rushing out the door.

  They took to the air, ‘I’ll take us up a bit to increase our field of view, Mike.’ They both peered down, hoping to see Jack’s car headed towards Sunset Downs. Then, to her horror, Pip’s well-trained eye spotted the upturned Prius. ‘Oh shit, look down there. It’s Jack’s car,’ she said, concern and a tinge of panic in her voice.

  Mike looked down and saw the car, ‘Maybe he got out and is sitting under a tree. Let’s hope so.’

  Pip landed the chopper in the paddock behind the tree line running along the road, scattering the curious cows that had gathered to observe the upturned car. While she was shutting the chopper down, Mike leapt out, ran and then jumped the fence. He could see Jack’s leg and one arm in the car. He yelled to Pip, ‘He’s still in the car. Get on the radio and get an ambulance here in a hurry.’

  While Pip was doing that, Mike peered into the upturned car. ‘Oh Jacky boy, are you still with us, son? If those bastards did this to you I swear I’ll get even.’ He opened the passenger’s door and reached across, placing a gentle finger on Jack’s throat, searching for a pulse. There was blood everywhere and Mike feared it was too late.

  Pip arrived, panting from the sprint from the chopper and jump over the fence. She was holding a collapsible stretcher, ‘Does he have a pulse, Mike?’

  Chapter 15

  Billy hit the send button on his mobile phone. The message read ‘Job done. Goods received and delivered.’ The message blinked to life on Vinnie’s phone. He smiled. Billy started the prime mover and drove slowly away from the MacKinley River as Jack’s camera and laptop sank into the swirling brown water. A tree full of curious galahs gazed down and then continued their playful games.

  Back at the worksite, the excavator was replacing the final bucket of soil to again disconnect the old irrigation channel from the legal one. After a few more minutes the rest of the soil was spread and the men started to load the excavator onto the low loader awaiting the arrival of Billy and the prime mover. Both would now disappear for a while, along with the old ute. All that would remain as evidence of the theft would be the water itself, which was now safely stored and already being used to keep a crop alive.

  Chapter 16

  Mike turned to give Pip the bad news. As he did he felt it; a weak, irregular pulse. ‘He’s alive,’ he yelled, ‘I can just feel a pulse. Quick, let’s get him out of here.’ They manoeuvred Jack out of the car, taking care to brace his neck just in case he had spinal injuries.

  Pip said, ‘Put him on the stretcher. I use this when I have to medivac people in an emergency. There’s a cover for it and I can strap it to the side of the chopper’s skids. We don’t have time to wait for the ambulance.’

  They strapped Jack onto the stretcher and then carried and loaded it onto the side of the chopper. ‘Hang in there, Jacky boy, we’ll have you at the hospital in a few minutes,’ said Pip.

  As she set course for Dawson, Pip radioed the hospital and told them to cancel the ambulance. ‘I’ve got him with me and I’ll bring him straight to your car park. Have a doctor there ready. He’s lost a lot of blood, looks like a busted shoulder and maybe more. His pulse is very weak and irregular.’

  In what seemed like an eternity for Mike and Pip, it was nearly 15 minutes before Dawson came into sight and they saw the hospital. Pip set the chopper down extra gently and a nurse and doctor came running. Pip helped them remove the stretcher and they placed Jack’s seemingly lifeless body on a gurney and wheeled him hastily in through the automatic doors of the emergency ward.

  Pip and Mike stared after the scurrying doctor and nurse. Pip turned to Mike and hugged him. ‘Let’s pray he makes it,’ she said.

  While Mike went to call the local police about the accident, Pip settled it to maintain a vigil beside Jack’s bed. The young Indian doctor, Dr Pandit, seemed very competent, but much too young, she thought. Dawson was lucky in that it had a regional base hospital which meant they had been able to keep three GPs in town; unlike most of the surrounding communities where GPs were now a distant memory. Travelling for hours for medical services was now the norm in the bush.

  Mike and Sergeant Pat McMahon went out together to see the crash scene and wreck. McMahon had been the Sergeant in Dawson for nearly ten years and it was well known that he was a golfing mate of Pete Wellsmore.

  Arriving at the scene of the accident, the sergeant surveyed the situation. The gravel road and passing traffic meant there were no clear skid marks to help unravel what had happened. After about ten minutes of inspecting the scene Pat voiced his opinion. ‘Looks like a straight-out accident to me. City bloke not used to gravel on the corners, driving a car not meant to leave the freeway. Looks like he lost control, over-corrected and rolled it to me.’

  Mike raised his eyebrows, ‘Pat, come on mate, you know this guy was sniffing around about those water-thieving bastards. You don’t think this might be a little too coincidental?’

  Pat replied, ‘That’s a very serious accusation. I can’t see anything here to suggest foul play.’

  ‘Well, where’s his camera and laptop? He wouldn’t leave them behind, and they weren’t here when Pip and I found him.’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe some low-lifes came along after he crashed, thought he was dead and helped themselves. I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case why didn’t they take his cash, credit cards and phone?’ Mike challenged.

  The sergeant contemplated this and responded, ‘I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Let’s wait to talk to Mr Miller. Don’t go dreaming up any conspiracy theories yet.’

  Mike grunted an unintelligible reply.

  The Sergeant said, ‘Let’s collect his belongings and I’ll call the tow truck guys to come get the wreck.’

>   Mike, not giving up yet, said, ‘Bloody hell, Pat, I can’t be-lieve you. Just because I had a crack at your mate Pete you’re willing to turn a blind eye to this.’

  ‘Let it go, Mike. Even if I did think there was something suspicious here, there’s no proof. Look around you. No paint from other cars to suggest a collision; and this is a notorious corner, as you well know. And I don’t appreciate you suggesting that just because I play 18 with Pete every Saturday I would let that influence me, so piss off!’

  They travelled back to town in silence and Mike returned to the hospital. Pip was sitting there holding Jack’s hand as he walked in. She withdrew her hand rapidly, ‘The doctor said it might help him come out of the coma,’ she said defensively.

  ‘You don’t have to pretend with me. I know you and him have a bit of a thing blossoming and good luck to you. He’s a nice bloke and you have to admire his balls for going after these bastards. I’m not sure he took me seriously when I said they could play hard, though.’

  ‘Are you saying this wasn’t an accident?’ said Pip.

  ‘Pip, when you get to my age, it gets easier to spot the bullshit. Piece this together. Jack, Charlie and I get shot at. He talks to John Burton. Then you go out and take some snaps. He tries to see Pete Wellsmore who has suddenly taken ill. He then ends up in a ditch, almost dead. Sorry, but my trouble meter is telling me that’s just too coincidental, no matter what bloody Pat McMahon thinks. On top of that, it seems Jack’s camera and laptop are missing.’

  ‘Jesus, Mike, we really have rattled their cage,’ said Pip. ‘Maybe we need to go back to where Jack took the photos and see what they’re doing now. That might tell us who’s behind this.’