Flood country Page 6

  ‘If you’re game, I am. We owe it to Jack.’

  At that moment Dr Pandit walked back in and asked Pip and Mike to step out into the corridor. ‘We initially considered moving Mr Miller to Royal North Shore Hospital in Sydney but his condition has improved slightly and so we’ve decided against it, for now. His condition is serious but stable and it’s now a waiting game. He’s lost a lot of blood, has three broken ribs and had a dislocated shoulder. We’re not sure how long he will stay in the coma,’ said the doctor.

  Chapter 17

  Pip and Mike went to the airport and she fired up the chopper. They headed for where Jack had taken the photos, unconcerned now about fabricating a cover for being in the area.

  Pip hovered the chopper over the site and they looked down, startling a huge flock of white cockatoos which took to the air with they bright yellow crests flared and screeching indignantly. ‘No sign of the excavator or ute,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Mike, ‘and look at that; the water is now flowing back where it should. They’ve done their usual trick and put things back before anyone from the Department can come to check. We’ve had this before. The compliance people in the Department say they have to catch ’em red-handed for it to stick in court.’

  ‘But Mike, surely the water has ended up somewhere it shouldn’t be. Isn’t that enough for them?’ asked Pip.

  ‘Sadly no. A landowner can say he had a freak thunderstorm or pumped it from a bore. It’s a good point though. Let’s go see if we can spot where this water ended up. That could be interesting.’

  Pip swung the chopper around and they started to follow the old channel. Its darker colour told them it was still a little damp—that wouldn’t last long in the oppressive heat. After a few kilometres the channel flowed toward a large dam which contained more water than it should, compared to others they’d seen along the way.

  ‘As I suspected,’ said Mike. ‘This property belongs to one of those faceless people—an absentee owner. These people are killing our community. It’s all take and no give. As I was telling Jack; as the drought bit hard, more and more of our neighbours had to sell up. They just couldn’t make a living off their small farms. Just around here about half of the homesteads are now vacant, sitting there gathering dust, while their rich owners sit back in Sydney sipping Lattes or Gin and Tonics by the harbour.’

  As she turned the chopper back toward Dawson, Pip enquired, ‘Is there any way to find out who owns this place?’

  ‘Maybe, but these multinationals generally set up shelf companies to avoid tax. They don’t care about the people out here. They’re raping rural Australia, buying up properties for their water licences and then sitting back and trading the water, or doing this sort of thing. They’re mongrels, Pip, and pretty much above the law; or at least they think they are,’ Mike concluded with a steely resolve.

  Chapter 18

  Billy’s mobile phone rang. Gazing at the screen he saw it was Vinnie calling.

  Vinnie screamed down the phone. ‘You stupid bastards. You might have killed him. He’s in a coma and may not come out of it. I told you to give him a serious scare, not top him. Where’s that idiot offsider of yours?’

  ‘I told him to lie low for a while, and we’ve got the ute, excavator and semi under wraps too. Shit, Vinnie, I didn’t realise his little Jap car would flip so easy,’ said Billy in his defence.

  ‘You’d better hope he doesn’t die or it could get very ugly for all of us. Disappear for a while. Go fishin’ or pig shootin’, just stay out of Dawson.’

  Vinnie hung up and as he did his phone rang. It was The Man from Sydney. ‘I just heard our journo friend may die. I assume this is your work?’

  ‘The idiots overdid it. I’ve just told them to disappear for a while.’

  ‘You realise that if he dies there will be a serious investigation, coroner and all that, and Sydney cops may be called in. This would not be good Vinnie, not good at all.’ The understated threat in these words made the hair on the back of Vinnie’s neck stand up as the phone went dead.

  Chapter 19

  Jack could hear far-off, muffled voices and the sounds of medical machines. He thought of that Monty Python movie with the funny line, ‘bring in the machine that goes ping’. He could also smell disinfectant or something like that. Slowly his surrounds came into focus and the sounds gained clarity. It was a hospital ward. How did I get here, he wondered? Last thing I remember was that huge bull bar emerging from the dust cloud, then bang.

  He gazed around the ward and there asleep in the chair beside his bed was Pip. He smiled. Some detector strapped to his body must have sent a signal to the nurses’ station as a large, round-faced nurse appeared around the curtain. ‘Welcome back, Mr Miller,’ she said cheerily, ‘I’m Brenda.’

  Pip stirred with the noise and looked at Jack through bleary eyes, then one of those magic smiles spread across her face. ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘how are you?’ then blushed as she realised how silly the question was.

  ‘You tell me,’ he croaked. The nurse stepped closer, checking the various monitors and drips attached to him.

  ‘You were in a car accident, Mr Miller. You have three broken ribs, your shoulder was dislocated and you’ve lost a lot of blood. You’ve been in a coma for nearly 24 hours, so we’re really pleased to see your eyes open,’ said Brenda. ‘I’ll call the doctor to come check you over, so don’t try getting up to run a marathon, ok? I’ll be right back. Pip, don’t you get him excited either,’ she said with a huge grin as she bustled out through the ward curtain. Pip blushed again.

  Jack turned his head gingerly toward Pip. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Oh, I just kept popping in to see how you were going,’ she understated. ‘Mike’s been here too.’

  ‘What happened? I remember that truck coming toward me and that’s it.’

  ‘Mike and I found you in the car. We think it was an hour or more after the accident. The car’s a write off, Jack, sorry,’ said Pip.

  ‘Did you manage to save any of the batteries?’ he asked with a chuckle that made him wince with pain.

  Pip laughed. ‘You really are on the mend.’

  The curtain was brushed open again and in walked the doctor followed closely by nurse Brenda and Mike. All three were smiling, signalling to Jack how grim they must have thought his chances of survival were.

  ‘I’m Dr Pandit, Mr Miller. You’re a very lucky man. If these two hadn’t found you when they did I think you would have run out of blood.’

  Mike piped up. ‘You can thank Pip, not me Jack. She was the one that came looking for you. If she hadn’t it would have been curtains for you, young fella.’ Pip blushed for a third time.

  Dr Pandit told them it was time to leave so he could check Jack thoroughly. Pip and Mike walked out to the car park together. Hurrying toward the door of the hospital was Sharon. ‘Mike, Pip, how’s Jack?’

  ‘He’s just come out of the coma,’ said Pip, surprised by Sharon’s interest and concern. ‘How do you know Jack?’

  ‘Jack and I were junior journos together in Sydney. We were drinking mates too. He dropped in to see me the other day. I figure he must have had the accident just after he left me.’

  Mike replied. ‘Not sure I’d call it an accident, Sharon. Smells fishy to me. The timing is too coincidental. I went out there with Pat McMahon and, not surprisingly, he saw nothing suspicious. We think Jack’s camera and laptop are missing and they had photos on them he took of some illegal water diversion we came across the other night.’

  ‘I hope you’re wrong, Mike, but I did tell Jack these guys play for keeps. When can I see him? He may have just awoken the investigative journalist I used to be,’ responded Sharon.

  ‘They told us to come back during visiting hours, at six o’clock,’ said Pip. ‘Maybe we three should have a coffee and talk about what to do next?’

  ‘If I can have tea it sounds good to me,’ Mike quipped.

  Chapter 20

 
Over coffee and tea the three—now drawn together in a common cause by Jack—traded notes and ideas. ‘We need to find out whose land it is that the water just happened to end up on. I’ve got an old mate in the Lands Department in Sydney. I’ll give him a call,’ Sharon proposed.

  ‘That sounds good. Here’s a mud map showing the block in question, but it doesn’t necessarily link the illegal diversion works we saw to that landowner,’ Mike pointed out as he handed it over.

  Pip chimed in. ‘But it might start to tell us who’s behind the whole thing. And, if you’re right Mike, who would try to take Jack out—or at least frighten him.’

  ‘If only we had those photos. Then we could try to track down the rego on that ute,’ added Sharon.

  ‘When we speak to Jack tonight we need to ask him where the camera and laptop are,’ reminded Mike.

  ‘Maybe we do need to take this to the police in Sydney,’ said Pip. ‘It seems we won’t get much help from the locals.’

  ‘At this stage we’ve got nothing. Just what we saw that night; and no proof of that even. The cause of the accident can’t be reviewed now. The wreck’s already been brought into town and is down in the lockup yard behind the police station,’ said Mike.

  ‘I can ring an old flame of mine in Sydney,’ suggested Sharon. ‘He’s a copper, and maybe can offer some advice.’

  ‘Ok, both those ideas sound good, Sharon. Go for it, but tread carefully,’ said Mike, clearly concerned for her welfare. After a few moments of reflective silence, Mike continued. ‘What are we going to do with Jack when they discharge him from hospital? We can’t let him go back to the motel and he won’t be able to drive for a while with that shoulder.’

  ‘I suppose I could look after him for a few days… until he decides what he’s doing,’ Pip volunteered quickly. Sharon and Mike exchanged knowing glances.

  The meeting over, the three went their separate ways; Mike back home for farm chores, Pip had a mustering job, and Sharon went back to the Dawson Times. Pip and Sharon agreed to meet back at the hospital at six. Mike said he’d come in to see Jack tomorrow.

  Back at the Times Sharon was feeling a buzz she hadn’t experienced for several years. Her first call was to Garry Smith, an old friend now working in the Department of Lands. She tried an old mobile phone number she had for him. After a few rings, Garry’s familiar voice answered. ‘Gazza, you old bastard, how the hell are you?’ she said.

  ‘Let me guess; Sharon Davis,’ he replied, clearly pleased to hear from her. ‘How’s life out in the sticks?’

  ‘It’s great, Gazza; slower pace but getting to work in the morning takes me as long as it takes you to have your morning shit,’ she laughed.

  ‘I see some things haven’t changed,’ Garry laughed too. ‘To what do I owe the honour of this call?’

  ‘Well we have a bit of a situation up here and I’m trying to track down who owns a particular block of land. It’s one of these absentee landholders. How do I go about that?’

  ‘You need to lodge a Title Search and pay the fee. They can take three to four weeks to process, and if it’s owned by a company all you’ll get is that name,’ Garry replied.

  ‘Hmmm, any way that can be fast tracked?’ she hinted. ‘This might involve some illegal things which it may be better I not tell you about.’

  There was a lengthy silence. Garry was clearly thinking about the potential implications of helping Sharon. ‘You’re right, best I not know the gory details. I might be able to help get it done sooner for you though. Do you know the block details?’

  ‘Gaz, you’re an angel. Thank you so much. I have a mud map showing the block we’re interested in. I can email it to you as a pdf, or I could fax it. Which ever you prefer.’

  ‘Just fax it. There’s less of a paper trail that way if this does turn out to be bad,’ said Garry. He gave her the fax number and after she again thanked him profusely Sharon faxed the mud map through a few minutes later.

  Sharon’s next call was to Luke Matthews. Luke and Sharon had hooked up briefly while she was a cadet journo. She’d met him at a crime scene and was instantly attracted to his good looks and body. Again, she tried his old mobile number and was pleasantly surprised to hear his deep gravely voice answer. ‘Is that the copper with the biggest dick in Sydney?’ she asked.

  ‘G’day Sharon,’ he replied, not missing a beat. ‘How the hell are you?’

  ‘Never better, mate. How about you?’ They quickly caught up on personal situations, including that Luke was now a detective and married, before Sharon directed the conversation to Jack’s ‘accident’.

  ‘Luke, not sure you’d remember him from our early days at the Herald, but an old journo mate called Jack Miller is up here at present and he’s sniffed out a bit of a story involving water theft.’

  ‘Yeah, I remember Jack. He covered a few car prangs I attended. What’s happened?’ asked Luke.

  Sharon filled in the details for Luke and explained about the car accident, and the apparently missing camera and laptop.

  ‘So what did the local coppers say?’ asked Luke.

  ‘Local sergeant, guy called Pat McMahon, said he could see no signs of foul play. He’s treating it as an accident,’ replied Sharon. ‘And, not that I’m suggesting anything, but the sergeant is a golfing mate of the Water Department guy we suspect is up to his arse in this.’

  ‘Hmmm, I might ignore that last remark; although if Jack’s camera and laptop are missing he can’t just write it up as an accident.’

  Sharon kept going. ‘If I can find this ute somehow, and get its rego number, is there any way to find out to whom it’s registered?’

  ‘Only if you have a friendly detective to look up the relevant database for you,’ he noted, with a resigned sigh. ‘But first, find out if the camera and laptop are really missing, and, ask the local sarge to investigate. If he still fobs you off, let me know. After that, if you can track down the rego number of the ute I’ll see what I can do. No promises though you understand.’

  ‘You’re still the man, Luke, love ya.’

  After she got off the phone from Luke it rang again instantly. It was Garry. ‘Sharon, you got a pen?’ he rushed. ‘The block in question is owned by a company called Primus Investments. I suspect it’s a subsidiary or shelf company, they often are, but you’ll have to search on the ASIC site to find out more.’

  ‘Wow, that was quick,’ she replied. ‘Why does it normally take three to four weeks?’

  ‘It’s not considered high priority work and if we did it in the ten minutes it takes the public would complain about paying the $110 fee,’ he chuckled.

  Sharon thanked Garry, and after hanging up immediately went to the web site of ASIC—the Australian Securities and Investments Commission. She entered the name Primus Investments in the search bar, and hit enter. The search took just a few seconds, opening up a new page with summary details of the company. This led her in turn to another company and then another. As Garry had predicted, once you peeled away the layers of the onion, Primus Investments was owned by a parent company. As she read the name of that company Sharon’s pulse began to race. ‘Oh yes. Game on,’ she said.

  Chapter 21

  Todd Marchant reached for his mobile phone as he walked out of the Premier’s office, not wanting to be overheard. ‘Vinnie, what did you get on our mate Mike Thompson? Got any Achilles we can target?’

  ‘Nothing yet I’m afraid. The Man asked me to focus on this journo Miller for now. As you probably know he just happened to have an unfortunate car accident a few days ago. He’ll be ok, we’re hearing. What’s more worrying is that just before the accident he went and spoke to the local journo at the Dawson Times and seems she might now be on the case too.’

  ‘Oh shit, that’s not good. Two nosey journos is bad news. Did you manage to find out any more about what that bloody Thompson knows?’ asked Todd.

  ‘We know he found one of the active diversion sites, even though we’d told the boys to cool it. The journo got
some photos of it, but they disappeared when he had the accident. The site’s been cleaned up, and vehicles mothballed for now so that should be sweet.’

  ‘What about Thompson’s accusation at that meeting? What’s he got on Wellsmore? That’s what we have to get our hands on.’

  ‘Ok, I’m on it,’ said Vinnie.

  Chapter 22

  Six o’clock rolled around, and Pip and Sharon met at the hospital entrance. Sharon was bursting to pass on to Pip what she’d found out, but there were too many people around so she had to wait until later.

  They walked into Jack’s ward to see him sitting semi-upright with much more colour in his face than when Pip had seen him that morning. Jack looked surprised to see Sharon there but before he could say anything Pip said, ‘You’re looking a lot better, Jack.’

  ‘Looks can be deceptive,’ he replied. ‘I’m bloody sore all over. Did I get run over by that truck?’ Then he turned to Sharon, ‘G’day Sharon, thought I might have pissed you off the other day?’

  ‘Take more than that to get rid of me, Jacky boy. I reckon you said what needed to be said, old mate. Sorry for going soft cock on you.’

  This Jacky boy tag was really starting to get a hold, Jack noted.

  ‘No worries. Are you on our side now?’ said Jack, showing no signs of letting up.

  ‘Jack, take it easy. You’ve been in a coma and you’re all banged up. No heroics please,’ said a concerned Pip.

  ‘If you think this little prang will stop me finishing this, think again,’ declared Jack.

  ‘But Jack, Mike reckons this was no accident—that they were trying to warn you off,’ responded Pip.

  ‘That thought had crossed my mind too, so they do play for keeps don’t they?’ he said.