Above the Fold Page 31

  “You’ve got to remember in this country they are of no account, Luke, that’s the problem. Non-citizens, without a vote.” Todd shook his head in despair. “Well, at least it proves your case. Those tests the Poms and our mob managed to keep so secret, they really did happen.”

  “They did. But I still need extra verification.” There was a distant sound that puzzled Luke. He craned to look out the window but could see nothing. “Can you hear that?”

  “Helicopter.” Todd was surprisingly matter-of-fact as he pointed to his driving mirror. “A long way back of us.”

  “What the hell’s it doing out here?”

  “Watching our progress, I’d say.”

  “Security patrol?”

  “Probably. He’s been flying in circles for the past few minutes, to stay well behind and track us.”

  “Is this a police state now, or what?”

  “This bit is. If he feels bloody-minded, he could come down and land in front of us. Because there’s only one road. He could even be about to do that right now,” Todd added.

  “Cheerful this morning, aren’t you?” Luke said, but only minutes later the chopper scudded past them and went swiftly away into the distance.

  In Sydney, members of the letter-writing fraternity were busy sending their thoughts to the editor, and a flood of comments about selfish barristers were published in The Herald over the next few days. Let’s kill all the lawyers, one correspondent reminded readers of Shakespeare’s words, and took the opportunity to suggest male barristers were well qualified for this fate. The resident cartoonist joined in the mockery, with a line of men in wigs queued up at the guillotine, and even the news columns took notice of the campaign. Perhaps that was why a courier brought a personal letter to their flat in Edgecliff, and Helen received an invitation from James Montague, the head of prestigious Montague Chambers in Castlereagh Street. He asked if she would join him for lunch that day, to discuss a matter of mutual concern. She phoned Rupert at the ABC to tell him of this development and he was waiting at home when she returned from the meeting in triumph.

  “I wonder where Luke is?” were her first words. “I’ve just been offered a room at Montague’s. And I’ve accepted it.”

  “What’s it like?” Rupert asked.

  “Well, put it this way. It’s not the best piece of real estate. In fact, I’d say it’s a bit like the broom cupboard you chaps at Macquarie gave Luke to when he was a scriptwriter, but it’ll do for now. At least it’s a place in a reputable chambers and I want to thank him. And you. If he’s in South Aussie, can we contact him there by phone, or send him a telegram?”

  “I doubt it, darling. I should think he’s on the way to Maralinga by this time. He didn’t leave a phone number, or an address.”

  “Well, at least I can thank you for the idea.” She wrapped her arms around him and suggested they might go to bed early that evening.

  Rupert responded by asking if they really needed to wait until evening.

  It was harder driving every hour now, and because of it the next stretch of broken road seemed endless. The Land Rover bounced on the rutted surface, and it was a relief to Luke when they stopped for an early lunch. Good old Maysie, he thought, trying to cope with her disturbed kids and cheerless husband, had replenished one of the eskies with what she could spare, and sent them on their way with fresh water and a couple of bread rolls from her rough and ready kitchen. They had a tin of cold meat to use as filler for the rolls, ate them hungrily, and drank lots of water.

  It had been Maysie who’d told them army trucks had freighted the train carriage there to act as a temporary home for them, but it was the last time they’d heard from the military, and felt they’d been abandoned. Despite her ready smile, being treated in such a careless and discriminatory way had clearly hurt, and thinking of what that family and children had been through, Luke kept wondering if there was some way he could help them. His report might get them some compensation, but he wished there was something personal he could do.

  “Todd, reckon there’s any way we can find out about the auntie?”

  “Worth a try. We’re going in the right direction. After Maralinga, we’re close to Yalata and Fowlers Bay. The main hospital is there.”

  “Fine. I’ve got to see someone else in Fowlers Bay.”

  “Who?”

  “The widow of a soldier who was there through most of these tests. He got cancer after the third of the Antler series, the big one where they experimented with 27 kilotons.” He turned to see Todd’s puzzled gaze directed at him. “What?” Luke asked. “Something bothering you?”

  “You’re a bit more clued up than I realised,” Todd said.

  “Only a little bit.”

  “I mean, the names and details of the tests, for instance. I thought this was all top secret, with a thirty-year spell for anyone who leaked it.”

  “That’s correct, Todd.”

  “Must’ve had some inside info, though. And now there’s a widow to see. Where did all this good oil come from?”

  “A friend. I can tell you later, but until then I’m like a priest bound by the confessional.”

  “If you insist, mate. Flaming weird sort of priest.”

  “We come in all shapes and sizes. I just wish we had some altar wine.”

  “Bloody oath,” Todd agreed with a laugh.

  They packed up the esky, and were about to get back in the Land Rover again, when Todd froze. The sound was faint, but he heard it an instant before Luke did, then they both shaded their eyes against the sun. High in the south the helicopter was returning.

  “Fuck! I had a horrible feeling he’d be back,” Todd muttered.

  They stood watching, there was nothing else they could do. “He’s coming down this time, by the look of it.”

  “Yes, he’s got his orders. So we’re a bit stuffed. Sorry about this, Luke, but we’ve got no options. We can’t run, and we sure as hell can’t hide.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  They watched the chopper lose height as it approached and began to hover overhead, then slowly descended on the road in front of their vehicle. The whirling blades were already starting to churn up the earth around them.

  “Play dumb,” Luke said hastily. “The story is that I hired you and the vehicle for a few days.” Todd paid no attention. He was gazing at the chopper. “Did you hear me?” Luke asked. “You know nothing, except that we’re on the way to see a friend of mine in Yalata.”

  “It won’t work, mate,” said Todd.

  “Why not?” Luke asked, but any answer was drowned by the noise as the chopper finally landed, scattering dust and debris that enveloped the Land Rover and stung their eyes. The pilot was alone. He switched off the motor and sat there after the noise had stopped, waiting until the worst of the dust settled. He was clearly in no hurry, confident and aware that he blocked their further progress.

  “Why the hell not?” Luke again repeated the question, but Todd seemed reluctant to answer.

  “You’ll find out in a minute or two,” he said, as the pilot finally emerged, clamping a handkerchief to protect his face as he came through the cloud he’d created.

  “G’day, Mick,” Todd said.

  “Guessed it was you,” the pilot answered. “So what is it this time? A special two-man demo?”

  “You two know each other?” Luke asked.

  “Sort of,” Todd replied, “He’s my fucking brother-in-law. My silly cow of a sister had a brain snap, let him root her and got herself pregnant, so she was stupid enough to go and marry him.”

  The pilot just moved a single pace towards Todd, let go a hard right-handed punch that hit him in the mouth and knocked him to the ground.

  “What the hell?!” Luke exclaimed, but the pilot took no notice of him. He stood over Todd with a foot raised ready to kick if his brother-in-law tried to get up and retaliate, but there was no attempt at this. Common sense had suggested the chopper pilot was younger and stronger, and it wouldn’t be an equal
contest. Todd just sat up and spat out a mouthful of blood. The pilot lashed out with his boot and kicked him anyway.

  Claudia had just stripped and put on her bikini. Hearing a vehicle approach she hurriedly added a towelling robe before opening the bedroom curtains. That was how she saw him arrive. She stared in disbelief as the chauffeur-driven limousine pulled up directly outside their apartment, and the passenger in the back seat got out. Jerold Pascoe was wearing a linen suit and a panama hat, looking as unpleasant and belligerent as the last time she’d seen him on her second visit to his house to plead for help. He had not only refused any assistance, but had threatened to trace her wherever she went, and to ruin her with a lawsuit and damages for trying to entice his son. It had been his threats that had made her realise marriage was their only safety.

  He could see her now that the curtains were open. She watched him hesitate, then move to ring the front doorbell. Instead of answering it she left the premises by a back door, walking around the building to where his car was parked. He was impatiently ringing the bell again, when he heard her voice from directly behind him.

  “Do you want something?” she asked. If he was startled by her tactic, he turned to her without showing it.

  “I’d not have come all this way for nothing. Where’s my son?” It was the same assertive manner, with no attempt to address her by name. “Tell him I’m here.”

  “He may not wish to see you.”

  “That’s for him to decide.”

  “Of course. But I’d advise you to wait in the car, as he’s swimming at present and can’t be interrupted. And you can hardly expect to be invited inside my home, since I was never made welcome in yours.”

  “Swimming? What the hell are you talking about? How can he swim?”

  “The same way as other people,” she said. “He moves his arms and kicks his legs.” It was a childish reply, she knew, but she was enjoying the angry bewilderment on his face. It had been a well-kept secret; as much as they’d wanted to give the good news to his mother they’d resisted, knowing she could never keep it from her husband. So now Claudia watched his confusion, then the sheer astonishment as he began to understand what she had said and turned his gaze towards the beach. When he saw the lone figure in the sea he started to walk hurriedly in that direction, before breaking into a stumbling run.

  Claudia trailed behind him as he ploughed uncomfortably over the sand. When he stopped to remove his shoes, she flung aside her robe and ran past him, diving into the sea and swimming to join Steven.

  “Guess who thinks he’s coming to dinner?” she called, and he turned and recognised his father who had halted on wet sand at the tide mark.

  “Steven!” Pascoe shouted.

  “Bugger off!” Steven shouted back.

  “I want to speak to you.”

  “Too late, Father! Too many bloody years too late!”

  “At least come and listen,” Pascoe pleaded.

  “Did he tell you the reason for the visit?” he asked Claudia.

  “He wants to talk to you and I’m ordered to tell you he’s here. As charming as ever.”

  “The bastard. Will you explain this is my routine. And that I have another thirty minutes swim-therapy, so if he has anything to say he can tell you. Would you mind doing that for me, darling?”

  “Can you manage another thirty minutes?”

  “Bloody oath. If it upsets him, I’m certain I can.”

  “I’ll tell him. It’ll be a pleasure.”

  “Don’t invite him inside.”

  “No chance of that,” said Claudia .

  Mick the pilot was in his thirties, thickset and aggressive. He and Todd Boyd might have been united by the bonds of family marriage, but not by any trace of affection. Their relationship was the first small revelation. The second surprise came moments later, as Todd rose, spitting more blood, clamping his jaw and looking at his brother-in-law resentfully.

  “No need to kick me when I was down.”

  “Been wanting to do it for years,” Mick said, then turned to stare at Luke. “So you’d be Mister bloody Elliott,” he said.

  “Who told you that?” Luke asked. It seemed like a fair question, but not apparently to Mick. He compressed his lips, and was about to tell Luke it was none of his business. That was when Luke added, “I’m entitled to know.”

  “You’re entitled to nothing, mate, but someone dobbed you. Came by memo from Canberra.”

  Barry, you dirty bastard, Luke thought. You treacherous cunt.

  “Any comment, Mr Elliott?” He seemed pleased at the shock reaction his reply had created.

  “Only one. Never trust an old friend.”

  “Who are we talking about?”

  “No-one you’d know.”

  “But it was a friend, who dobbed you in? Correct?”

  “Former friend,” Luke agreed.

  The pilot seemed satisfied with this, and turned his attention again to his brother-in-law.

  “Got a permit, Todd?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Let’s have a look.”

  Todd felt in his pockets without success. “It’s … just a bit … slightly …”

  “Slightly what?”

  “Slightly out of date, Mick.” Todd reluctantly brought some crumpled documents from his back pocket. Selecting one he handed it to the pilot, who studied it with a triumphant grin and raised eyebrows.

  “Slightly! Just two fucking years out of date.”

  Two years! Luke thought. Brilliant!

  “Well, it’s like this,” Todd had clearly decided against family aggression, and was now trying to sound as if two years was of no consequence. “Mr Elliott was in a hurry. And you know public servants never make allowances for applicants in a hurry. Too busy having their morning and afternoon tea with chockie biscuits.”

  The attempt at harmony had no effect. “Bullshit,” was the pilot’s reply. “Why were you in such a hurry?” he asked Luke. “In fact why are you here in this region at all?”

  “To pay my respects to a friend,” Luke answered, working up a small degree of antagonism against the brother-in-law’s arrogance. “A condolence visit. Her husband died not long ago.”

  “Has the friend got a name?”

  “Yes, she does have a name. Rebecca Morrison. She lives in Fowlers Bay. Waratah Street.”

  Todd hid his surprise at this. The pilot showed instant recognition. His eyebrows lifted again. “I take it you must be talking about Arthur Morrison’s missus?”

  “That’s right. I was actually back in Australia to see Arthur, when I heard of his death. Cancer, someone told me. But it would be, wouldn’t it? Because all the deaths out here have been from cancer caused by exposure.”

  The moment he said it, Luke realised he’d been unwise.

  “Who told you that?” Mick snapped. “Where did you get that info on how he died?” The abrupt query left Luke fumbling for a name. “C’mon, who told you his cause of death?”

  “Um …. probably Doug.. Yeah, must’ve been Doug Nicholls.”

  “You mean the Abo minister? I take it that’s who we’re talking about?”

  “That’s right,” Luke answered.

  “You know Doug, do you?”

  “Met him,” Luke said carefully, wondering where this was taking him. Why was a bloody helicopter pilot interrogating him like an ASIO spook?

  “Bloody stirrer, that bloke,” said Mick dismissively. He glanced at his watch. “Well, we can’t fart around here wasting good time all day.” He seemed to ignore that the time wasting had been his. “My boss can soon sort this matter out. You know it’s a straight road, Todd, so don’t try to be a funny bugger, like turning and doing a runner.”

  “What would you do in that case, Mick? Call the marines, or drop a load of plutonium on us?”

  “Don’t be a smart-arse, mate, or I’ll flatten you again. I’ll radio Woody that you’ll be there in two hours. He’ll be expecting you, so don’t be late.”

&n
bsp; He gave Luke another intent stare, then got into the chopper. They watched as he started the motor. The blades began to spin and the dust rose again. He slowly lifted into the air and hovered there, waiting for them to make a move.

  “My sister must’ve been mad to marry that bloke,” Todd said, as they got back into the Land Rover. “But if he’s a shit, his boss is worse. Jordan Woodridge, known as Woody, is an eighteen carat arsehole. Do you really know the Reverend Doug Nicholls?”

  “Never met him in my life,” Luke said.

  “Thought not. Well, watch out for Woody. He’s lethal,” Todd warned, as they drove south in the direction of Maralinga. For a time the chopper stayed overhead, then flew into the distance, the pilot knowing they had no choice but to follow him.

  Claudia watched the limousine drive away, and walked inside to collect the walking stick in case Steven needed it. But by the time she went out to the beach again he was standing in the shallows, then limped unaided to where his towel lay waiting on the sand. He even proved his fitness, by leaning forward to pick it up. Claudia applauded this.

  “I thought you’d be completely exhausted. That was fifteen minutes more than the usual schedule.”

  “Strengthened by high dudgeon. Anger energy. Bloody cheek of it, turning up without any warning. I take it he’s gone?”

  “Only to Brisbane. I said there was no point in waiting, that it’d only make you angry. He’s spending tonight at Lennon’s Hotel.”

  “Of course. Probably booked the tower suite.”

  He held out a hand and she helped him to sit and rest on the sand. When he was settled there she sat beside him.

  “God, you were fabulous,” she said.

  “Was he surprised at me swimming?”

  “Stunned. He couldn’t believe you doing the Australian crawl. Kicking your legs like that, while he stood watching. Did it hurt?”

  “A bit. But it was worth it.”

  “He must’ve called off his spies long ago. It’s cruel of me, but what I enjoyed was seeing him trying to run across the sand in those expensive Italian shoes.” She laughed. “And then looking defeated when you kept on swimming. He hated having to speak to me, to tell me his offer.”