McCullock's Gold
Chapter 29. Betting Your Boots; and The Reasonable Bribe
“I’ll tell you one thing, Fraz,” Cadney said as he came out the front door with their mugs of tea. “There’s no way Tyler and Watts will have given up on that gold.” He put the mugs on the table then sat down and accepted the offer of a sandwich. “They’ll be back again for sure and sooner rather than later, which means our next move should be… Well, what exactly?
“I mean instead of us looking for them, shouldn’t we set them up to find us? ...on our terms? —Or to find me, anyway.”
Frazier finished chewing then took a sip from his mug. “That’ll be the go all right, except that we’ll have to work up a half decent plan. I mean we don’t want anything unforseen happening.”
Cadney considered this for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “So let’s look at where we stand. Tyler and Watts know about the camp dogs here so we can rule out a nice quiet midnight hit-and-run holdup. More likely they’ll be keeping an eye on Jack Cadney in the hope of hijacking him – like when I’m out hunting or something. They then bring me back in the Toyota all-mates-together and make me hand over the gold.”
Frazier reached for another sandwich as he thought this through. “Yeah. And when you think about it there’s not much else they can do. It won’t be easy for them though. Sure they know which house you live in but they’ll have to watch from somewhere they won’t be seen, all of which will make their job that much harder.”
Cadney suddenly sat up straight. “Hold it, Fraz! We’ve got this all wrong! Like I told you, the gold is Aboriginal Business and will go back to Appoota Mbulkara. But Tyler and Watts don’t know that. They’re whitefellas! Which means they’ll be thinking like whitefellas.
“They’ll be dead-set on cashing it in, see – quick as possible. And that’s exactly what they’ll reckon I’ll do. Oh yes, they’ll be waiting for me all right, waiting for me to bolt in to Alice Springs so I can turn the gold into dollars.
“But what if I don’t head to Alice? What if I head to Mount Isa instead? And if the buggers have worked that out then they’ll be somewhere up close, like in the spinifex on the other side of the creek – so they can follow whichever way I turn. And me being in a hurry for the money means they won’t be expecting a long wait. Then somewhere nice and quiet they force me off the road and bail me up.
“I betcha they’re getting smarter, too. I bet they’ve used their GPS and driven cross-country from the highway so as not to leave any turnoff tracks from the access road. Their Cruiser will be back in the bush a bit out of sight but they’ll be up closer, watching the traffic with binoculars and doing it in shifts in case I take off at night.
“I’ll be using my own car, too, not wanting to share the cash with anyone. And I’m obviously ‘in’ with the Harts Range copper and don’t have to register it. So as soon as they see the yellow Holden on the move it’ll be into the wagon and ‘Action Stations’. And one thing’s for certain, Fraz; there’ll be no getting away from the pricks a second time.
“Tyler will’ve let his tyres down for sure, so the sandy creek trick will be out. The bugger can bloody drive, too, and with the Cruiser being all over the Holden I’d be putting my money on Tyler. Next thing you know I’ll be looking down the business end of that semi-automatic again.”
Frazier chewed this over briefly. “If what you say is correct then they’ll have seen the police wagon arrive, in which case the first thing we have to do is get rid of the stupid mug-copper.”
The two then discussed different schemes and ideas and, on reaching consensus, set about fine-tuning their plan. Following this Cadney went inside to make a phone call, then a short time later Danny Papa came walking along the street to join them.
Cadney and Frazier met him at the gate and a brief discussion took place. The policeman then went to the passenger’s side of his wagon, removed his tucker box and car fridge from the cabin and put them on the ground. He and Danny then piled in and drove away.
Near the creek crossing some children were playing in the sand. Frazier gave a lengthy burst of the siren and flashing lights as they roared by and hurtled up the far side bank. At the top they slewed into the corner, dust and gravel spraying from the wagon’s wheels, their every appearance one of rushing to an urgent callout.
Cadney watched until the Toyota had disappeared from view behind the creek gums, then picked up Frazier’s tucker box and carried it into their spare bedroom. Next he took the car fridge into the kitchen. Its contents were transferred to their own fridge and that went into the spare room as well.
Outside again Cadney gave a chuckle. He knew his car had a certain notoriety about it, but with the bonnet, bumper, front panel and one mudguard missing the thing looked utterly disreputable.
He opened the front passenger’s door, threw his swag aside and turned back for the ironstone. The shop’s hand-trolley would be useful here, he thought ruefully, but there was no time to get it. Instead he leant in and set about grasping the awkward form as best he could. Then, muttering an oath, he dragged the boulder groin-high and stumbled around the corner with it to an oleander bush – flourishing in the side yard courtesy of a cracked drain pipe.
Beneath the oleander lay a large brown dog, dozing in the long-term hole it had excavated there. When the boulder thudded down beside it the dog raised its head … and suddenly found itself being evicted. It then watched on in bewilderment as its presence there was replaced by this large brown rock.
Cadney kicked some dirt over the ironstone, thanked the canine for its cooperation and returned to his car, totally unaware of the murderous glare directed at his back. The dog then contemplated the situation briefly before wandering off to find another patch of shade. There it scraped half-heartedly at the hard dry ground and flopped down with a resigned sigh.
By this time Cadney had the Holden’s engine running. After reversing out onto the street he swung forward onto the bitumen and tootled off after the police wagon – all in a most conservative, un-Cadneylike manner.
Interestingly, the valve cap on his driver’s side rear wheel was missing and the valve was leaking. Cadney continued on his way as if unaware a problem existed.
A kilometre down the road tyre was half flat and after another two the rim was chewing at the tyre. Soon pieces were flying from it and Cadney began wondering if he should stop and have a look.
A short distance beyond a burnt-out roadside car body he pulled over to investigate. The wreck was his, a bright red V8 Falcon “sin-bin” panelvan he’d decked out with red and black carpet lining, ghetto-blaster, car fridge and custom-fitted double swag. It had been his absolute pride and joy.
Coming home one night after a clandestine visit to a girlfriend in town it had burst into flames; later a road grading contractor had pushed it off the formation. There’d been little left to salvage.
Cadney prodded the mangled tyre idly with the toe of his boot. “Well bugger me,” he muttered. “How could that have happened.” He switched off the engine and went to the rear for a jack and wheel spanner, then cracked the wheel nuts and lay on the road to slide the jack under the axle. But as Cadney well knew, with a completely flat tyre the axle would be too low.
“Hey, look out now!” he exclaimed. “There’s not enough room for the jolly old jack!” He stood up again and rummaged in the rear for a tyre lever; underneath he used it to chip out a hole.
Once the device was in place Cadney sat up and attached the cranking handle then wound vigorously. And millimetre by millimetre axle and car came up from the roadway.
As soon as the ruined tyre was clear of the ground he stood up and began spinning off the wheel nuts … just as the sound of a vehicle reached his ears. It was travelling at high speed and approaching from the direction of the Community.
Cadney pretended not to have heard it. Instead he wiped his eyes with a shirt sleeve and stole a quick glance under his arm. The vehicle was a white Toyota Station Wagon.
He resumed work. The d
river switched to neutral, coasting fast and quiet with the engine idling.
Cadney continued what he was doing, pretending not to have heard it. Only after dragging the rim and tattered tyre from under the mudguard did he turn to see who the travellers might be – as if by way of casual interest. The Cruiser was almost on him, closing fast and braking hard.
As it slithered to a stop the passenger’s door flew open and Watts leaped out with the rifle. “Don’t bloody move y’ mongrel bastard!” he yelled as he ran the last few metres, “We bloody gotcha this time!” He halted two paces from where Cadney was standing, the gun pointing straight at Cadney’s chest.
Cadney gaped at it in disbelief. He let the tyre fall to the ground and took a half step backward, staring as if hypnotised.
Tyler eased himself from behind the wheel and strode purposefully forward. In his hand was a heavy tyre lever.
“We have come for the ironstone, Mister Cadney,” he said, almost conversationally. “—Unless you have transferred its contents that is. If so you may keep the rock and we will take the gold.”
Cadney seemed paralysed. He just stood there, stupefied, his mouth working soundlessly.
“Come now,” Tyler added. “This is perfectly simple. Either you give us the gold or we shoot you and take the gold.”
Shock became panic. Cadney looked about wildly, trying to see a way out. Suddenly his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground moaning.
Watts yelled at him to get up. Without waiting for a response he stepped forward and kicked the curled-up figure viciously. Cadney gasped and rolled onto his back, arching his spine in agony.
“Stand clear Mister Watts,” Tyler ordered. “I will deal with this.”
Cadney suddenly realised the import of the tyre lever. They’d not foreseen this and little could be done about it now. In addition to the pain he now felt sick “Wait…” he said weakly, raising an arm against the expected blow.
But the blow didn’t come. Instead his shirt front was grabbed one handed and he was hauled to his feet.
Tyler pulled him close. “You have one more opportunity, Mister Cadney,” he said quietly, ruthless intent evident in every syllable, “but only because of the cesspit inside your car. The state of it is enough to turn my stomach sir, so go to where you have the gold secreted and fetch it OUT!” He slammed Cadney against the wagon for emphasis and stepped back.
“Mister Watts will grub around for it if necessary,” he added, his tone once more conversational, “but without your watching on if you catch my drift.”
Cadney felt wretched. His kidney area hurt terribly and the unforseen tyre lever threat had left him shaken. He leant forward and began dry-reaching.
Watts was twitching with tension, his feet spaced wide, the rifle jerking minutely. Suddenly he snapped.
“Bugger this, Simon! It’ll take all bloody day!” he yelled. Lemme just shoot the black prick so we can get the gold and piss off outta here!”
Tyler held an arm across Watts’ line of fire. As he did this Cadney straightened up and dropped the act.
“Dear me, Mister Watts,” he said. “That’s a bit racist, isn’t it?” The transformation was astonishing.
“What are you friggin’ talkin’ about?!!” Watts shrieked. “Just give us the gold!” He was edgy and confused. Something here was not right.
“POLICE! DROP THE RIFLE, WATTS!” Frazier yelled from behind them. His pistol was aimed between Watts’ shoulder blades and braced two handed.
Watts’ head jerked around. Cadney sprang as the rifle swung away, one long stride and a longer right-foot kick. His heavy steel-capped boot took Watts in the balls, lifting him to his toes.
Watts fell to the road screaming, clutching at himself frantically, gun, gold and all else forgotten in the inferno.
As Cadney caught the rifle Frazier switched aim to Tyler. Cadney slipped behind the policeman and covered Tyler as well.
“Let go the lever,” Frazier demanded, pistol held level and rock steady.
Tyler’s face was hard and his eyes were venomous. The policeman must have been hiding in the wreck. And they’d been taken utterly by surprise like a pair of idiot schoolboys.
—But how? As he dropped the tyre lever he turned and glanced over his shoulder. No policeman’s boots, just heavy black socks.
“Kick it away,” ordered Frazier. When Tyler complied he added: “Now don’t move a muscle until I bloody say so.”
Cadney switched the rifle to pistol-grip, then waved his free arm in the direction of the highway and resumed his vigil.
Down the road a few seconds later the police wagon drove out of the bush. It heaved over the windrow then turned towards them. Cadney directed it to the far edge of the road formation then stopped it adjacent to the arrest scene.
“Everything all right, Officer?” Dan Papa asked from the open window.
Frazier’s eyes were fixed on the back of Tyler’s head, the pistol on Tyler’s spine. “Just stay there until I tell you, Papa,” he ordered without looking away. Watts was of no concern. He was still lying on the ground at the rear of the Holden, sobbing with pain.
Cadney backed across to the driver’s door, still watching Tyler. “Gimme the keys,” he said, switching the rifle to pistol grip again and putting up his free hand. Danny turned off the engine and passed them out. Cadney went to the wagon’s rear, opened the lockup door, then stepped back a couple of metres and resumed covering their prisoner.
Frazier ordered Tyler to walk forward and get in, then to sit at the front. “And no sudden movements,” he advised. “My pistol needs servicing and the trigger’s bloody dangerous. —Course if I do shoot you it’ll be in the back, which will mean you were trying to escape, and I’ve two witnesses here who will back me up.”
“Yeah! And one of ‘em’ll bloody swear on it till he’s black in the face!” Cadney put in.
Tyler gave him a murderous glare as he went to step inside. Cadney bolted the door after him; Frazier holstered his pistol.
Watts by this time was trying to sit up. Cadney handed Frazier the rifle then walked over and hauled the little man to his feet. “Gees, old mate,” he murmured solicitously. “Where does it hurt the most?” Without waiting for an answer he frogmarched the jelly-legged figure to the police wagon.
Frazier opened the door; Cadney threw him in. Watts gasped then howled in agony.
“And the poor bugger can’t even claim Police brutality,” Frazier muttered, half to himself. He secured the door and locked it, then took out a notebook and made a quick note.
Cadney went forward to the cab. “The Cruiser will have to go in to Alice so it looks like I’ve got another driving job,” he told Dan. “I don’t suppose you could put the spare tyre on ‘old yeller’ and take it home for me? If we leave it here it might get stolen.”
“Stolen?!!” replied Dan. “Are you serious? —I mean who’d bloody steal the thing? Anyway, I’d rather walk back.”
“What, frightened you mightn’t be able to handle it?”
Frazier joined them before Danny could think of a smart answer, his socked feet soundless on the roadway’s compacted red earth. “Pass out my boots, would you Dan?” he said. “I’ve had enough of this bloody kadaitcha-man stuff. —Hey! And give me back my hat.”
Danny took off the hat then turned to the passenger’s seat for Frazier’s footwear. When he passed them out Frazier leant against the mudguard and pulled them on.
“Right,” he declared, once more the complete policeman, “Step out of the vehicle please driver.” As Dan closed the door Frazier opened his notebook and pretended to write.
“Let’s see now… Stealing a police officer’s hat and boots… Using a police officer’s hat to impersonate a police officer… Using a police officer’s police vehicle without the police officer’s authorisation… Driving a police officer’s police vehicle at a speed dangerous to the...”
“You were lying on the seat playing with the bloody siren and yelling at me to g
o faster!” protested Danny.
“…contradicting a police officer in the course of that police officer’s duty… Failing to provide the police officer with a breath sample… Failing to offer the police officer a reasonable explanation in respect of that failure… Failing to offer the police officer a reasonable bribe in respect of the above offences...
“Mate, is this month’s charge sheet going to look good or what? …Except for the last item, perhaps. Maybe I should waive that one…”
Cadney left them to it and walked over to the Land Cruiser. There he checked the front right-hand mudguard and parking light. The mudguard was dented and had a bright yellow scrape mark. So did the bumper bar.
He went to the left-hand side and did the same. Both guards bore the scars and scratches of too much bush-bashing.
When Danny and Frazier joined him he said: “This is definitely the vehicle you’re after, Fraz. There’s some unpainted panel work here and the parking light glass has been replaced.