that back from me the way I held stuff back from him, you know?’
I nodded. It was convincing if unhelpful. Beth slapped at a fly and Lewis shifted his feet again. Time was running out fast. ‘Just one thing I have to ask,’ I said. ‘Did he have any money?’
They both looked at Lewis, who took another cigarette and lit it with the disposable lighter I’d left on the table. ‘Nothin’ to do with me,’ he said.
Beth, who was a tall, stout woman wearing a flowing cotton dress, stood and ran her hands around her protuberant middle. ‘He wore a money belt thing around here. He paid me for everything he’d eaten and for the creams I’d used and some more besides. We need it and I took it.’
‘And where did he go?’
Tommy studied me for a minute before he spoke. ‘You talk him out of that payback stuff if you find him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Got a lift into Mossman.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’d say he was very lucky to find you.’
‘My oath,’ Lewis said, getting to his feet. ‘And I reckon you might say the same.’
‘Could I make some sort of contribution to… ‘
Beth flared. ‘We’re not a charity.’
‘I know. I just wanted to show some appreciation for your help. The boy’s father’d want me to do that, too.’
‘I dunno,’ Tommy said.
‘Look, I’ve got some camping gear out there that I won’t be needing any more. There’s a tent and some groundsheets, a primus with a couple of bottles of fuel, jerry cans and stuff. I’m sure you could make some use of it. Otherwise I’ll just have to dump it or sell it for a song.’
‘Thanks,’ Beth said. ‘Yeah, that’d be good.’
I shook hands with her and we trooped out to my 4WD. I did the unloading, shoving things around so as to conceal the grog but Tommy spotted it and winked his clouded eye at me. ‘Useta be a demon on the rum,’ he said.
I handed him a carton of cigarettes. ‘I believe you. These things’ll kill you, you know.’
‘Haven’t yet.’
We shook and he shouted for some kids to come and carry the gear away under his supervision. They were healthy and strong. A little ten-year-old lifted the box carrying the enamel plates and mugs, a bush knife and a tomahawk, a gas bottle and a big can of motor oil onto his shoulder with ease and trotted away with it.
‘Nice touch that, Hardy,’ Lewis said. ‘I suppose you’ll be heading for Mossman.’
‘That’s right. And thanks for your help.’
‘S’ orright. Any idea of how to get there?’
‘I’ve got some maps.’
‘Bugger that. Look, I’ll show you.’
He picked up a stick and began to scratch marks in the sandy soil. I nodded as he talked about east and west and how many kilometres one place was from another. I’ve forgotten my army training and have trouble with the points of the compass and still think in miles. I nodded and grunted affirmatively, but none of it made sense to me. Lewis noticed and rubbed out the hieroglyphics.
‘Fuck it, I’ll put you on the way. Give us a smoke for the road.’
I opened my hands. ‘They’ve all gone.’
‘That’d be right.’
We set off. Some of the kids ran alongside us for longer than you’d imagine, keeping up better than you’d think possible. Eventually they dropped off and stood waving. I waved my arm out of the window until the next turn in the track. Lewis drove fast, threw up a lot of dust and it took a lot of concentration to keep in touch with him. He was testing me, showing me who was boss and I just had to cop it. I’d probably have done the same in his place. My shirt was a wet rag clinging to my body when Lewis stopped at a crossroad. He pointed, made sure I’d seen the direction, and drove off.
There was a six-pack of Fourex in the back of the Pajero. I pulled in under a tree and drank two cans, scarcely taking a breath in between. I sat in the shade and looked out at the lush, green landscape. The air was barely moving but it seemed to carry a dozen different scents on it, none of which I recognised. Birds flew about and I couldn’t identify any of them either, or the trees they inhabited. I realised just how citified I was and, although it was an uncomfortable feeling, it was way, way too late to do anything about it. The beer had made me sleepy and the last thing I wanted to do was fall asleep under a tree in the middle of nowhere. The insects would love that.
It was late in the afternoon but still hot. I splashed cold water on my face, drank some, stuffed half a packet of chewing gum into my mouth and drove on in the direction indicated. I hadn’t asked Lewis how far it was and was thinking of consulting my map when a few buildings appeared on the horizon and another vehicle overtook me. The driver waved and I waved back, mostly out of relief. The dirt gave away to bitumen and signs began to confirm that Mossman would be reachable before dark.
I was shocked at the state of the Pajero when I pulled in at the first motel I saw. The vehicle was covered in grey dust so its original colour was a matter of guesswork. No-one else gave it a second look. I checked in, unpacked minimally and spent an hour in the swimming pool. Not for the first time I looked at my stubble and contemplated a beard. A mature look, reliable. The grey I saw among the black decided me against it.
I had my usual motel dinner of biscuits, chips and nuts, two more beers and fell asleep. I dreamed I was cutting sugarcane in a huge field. It was the middle of the day and the sun was beating down fiercely. I could hear snakes rustling in the cane. A gang of kanakas arrived and I thought they were going to help but they stood around and smoked their clay pipes and laughed at me.
PART TWO
15
I checked at the airport and railway and bus stations, showed Clinton’s photo and didn’t get a whiff of him. Likewise at the wharf. I wasn’t surprised. He could have bought another car, but I wasn’t going to spend time on that possibility. He might’ve hitchhiked out for all I knew. All my enquiry told me that he was gone and that was all I really needed to know. I drove back to Cairns and handed over the Pajero, after putting it through a car wash and cleaning it out a bit inside. I kept the maps. I could plot my movements on them as further evidence for Nickless of my dedication to duty. I cursed myself for not getting the name of the Aboriginal settlement, then decided that it didn’t matter. I’d been there and learned things, none of them useful to Nickless but possibly helpful to me.
I gave the Akubra to an Aboriginal kid working in the airport garden. I kept the boots. I had a last Fourex in the airport bar while waiting for the flight to Brisbane and read through the Sydney Morning Herald to see what I’d been missing. Not much. The Olympics were drawing closer and I was still tossing up whether to stay and go to the boxing and watch the marathon or give the whole thing a miss and spend the fortnight on Norfolk Island. No chance of tickets to the swimming or athletics and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be around when the tourists flooded in. Some people said you could rent your house out for a fortune and others said you couldn’t. I remained in two minds.
Divided loyalties make for uneasiness, as every adulterer knows. All the way back to Sydney, including the wait at Brisbane, while I was trying to read the Irving book I was really worrying about how I stood with Wesley Scott and Rex Nickless. Their interests weren’t identical but not diametrically opposed either. Wesley stood on the higher moral ground. Nickless had paid for the Queensland trip which had yielded some things but nothing conclusive. My only way forward now was to pursue the clue Mark Alessio and Kathy Simpson had thrown up-the identity of ‘Tank’- and that had arisen from my own, self-financed endeavours. I couldn’t decide quite who I was working for, but I knew that Wesley deserved to know that his boy was still alive and relatively unharmed two months ago.
