by Meg Buchanan
John walked over to the poppet head. It loomed, sixty feet high, neglected but in one piece over the entrance of the mine shaft. The pulley used to lower the cage, clanged against the struts.
William stood beside him, hands on hips and studied the structure. “Still in good repair?”
John moved around the base, examining the foundations. “Nothing seems broken or cracked.” He went over to the cage that lowered two men at a time down the shaft and picked up the bit of rusty chain attached to the top. “We’ll need new chain and rope, and a couple of horses to lift and lower the cage.”
William grabbed the nearest strut, gave it a shake and nothing moved. “I’ve got two quiet ones I use for the wagon.”
John nodded, tilted his head back and studied the wheel at the top. “I’ll climb up and check the pulley’s secure and still works.” He grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder that went, level by level to the top of the poppet head. He climbed up and when he reached the top platform, he went over to the giant wheel and slowly rotated it, observing it move. He crouched down, studied the mechanism, then lay on his stomach and studied some more.
William yelled up at him when John stood again. “Will it go?”
“Yep, but needs some work first,” John yelled back down.
When John was back on the ground, he walked over to the shaft entrance and started pulling away the boards that covered it.
“Are you going down?” asked Courtney.
William crouched beside the lanterns he carried up to the ridge. “We need to check the timbering.”
“The cage isn’t working,” said Courtney.
William fished in his pocket for matches. “We’ll use the ladders.”
“Will they still be safe?”
“We’ll find out soon, won’t we? We’ll go down and see what the mine’s like inside.” William removed the glass chimney and lit the mantels. “If all the old timbering looks fine, we should be able to get started in the next few days. With two of us working, we’ll make five feet a day at least.”
“Only two of you working?” asked Courtney.
William nodded. “Me and John.”
“What about me?”
William thought about that for a while. “I don’t think so,” he decided in the end. “You’ve never been mining, and we want to get this done and get out fast, I can’t see it taking more than a week, and it would take longer than that to teach you what to do. It’s not like we are trying to bring ore to the surface, we’ll just dump the spoil in a nearby shaft.” He replaced the chimney and adjusted the flame. “Coming for a look, Courts?”
“I’ll give it a miss.” Going down into the Anderson mine was enough for him, and the entrance to that mine was a gentle slope. Climbing down a vertical ladder into the darkness didn’t appeal.
John picked up his lamp. “We’ll go to where we want to start tunnelling.”
William was already disappearing down the hole, rung by rung. “We should be back within the hour.”
Courtney settled to wait, and the hour passed slowly.
Finally, John’s head appeared. He climbed out and then William followed.
“Possible?” asked Courtney.
“Doable,” said William. “Now let’s check the measurements and see how much quartz we’re going to have to move.”
Another hour later, William rolled up the chain measure. “It is too big a job for us to attempt on our own.”
John picked up the notebook with the sketches and measurements. “Yes, we need help if we’re going to do it.”
Courtney sat on a convenient log. “I thought we were trying to get this done with no one else knowing. Only your wives and we know what we did, and I think it should stay that way.”
John ignored him. “Would Eugene and Declan, help? We’ve all worked together before.”
William flicked the lever, so the chain locked. “They weren’t part of killing Theobald and his men, but they were part of the rest. They’ll want to get this tidied up as quickly as possible too.”
Courtney looked out over the gully while John and William talked. They were probably right, and if they needed more help there was something he could do. “I could go and sound out Eugene and Declan. When do you want to start this tunnel?”
William looked the question at John.
“Monday?” suggested John.
William nodded. “You get the team together and we’ll get things ready. The old house is still empty, and we’ll live there while we’re working.”
Courtney watched girls dance attendance on the men sitting at the tables. Eugene suggested they meet at the club again. He appeared to nearly live here. Still after a day at the land office in Thames, a decent meal and a few whiskeys seemed a pleasant way to spend the evening.
A member of staff was taking coats, and men in evening dress escorted young women through to the dining room and others into the bar. Charlotte came out of the office and Eugene kissed her cheek. “It is a pleasure to see you, Charlotte.”
She went behind the reception desk, then keys dangling in one hand, she opened the double doors leading to a wide hallway with the other. “Your rooms await, gentlemen.”
“Why do we have rooms, aren’t we just dining?” Courtney asked Eugene as they followed Charlotte.
“I keep a suite here; it is easier than going home sometimes.”
That made sense, if you had the money. They turned to the left, went through another set of heavy double doors, then up an ornate carved staircase to a hallway.
Charlotte stopped at a door, unlocked it and opened it with a flourish. Even from the door, he could see sumptuous was the only way to describe the room. “I thought perhaps we could dine together,” Charlotte suggested to Eugene.
“Of course.”
She smiled, and Courtney watched her float, euphoric, back down the passageway. “Why are we dining with her?” he asked.
“Sometimes I do.” Eugene wandered across to a door on the right. “It seems to give her pleasure; it is a little thing.” He pointed to the door on the left. “Your room, Courts. I sent a message ahead we were coming. There should be clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”
Courtney nodded. Though the suit he was in seemed fine for a meal and asking Eugene to help remove six bodies from a mine.
The dressing room he’d been assigned was small and decorated with elaborately patterned wallpaper, velvet curtains, and a long mirror, with a rug, a wardrobe, a chair, a small daybed and a side table with a bowl and jug on it.
He loosened his collar, then checked the wardrobe. Full evening dress. He lifted out the hanger and examined the coat on it. Shaped to the waist, and faced with silk at the lapels, cloth collar, tails cut at an angle, probably ending just above the back of the knee.
Trust Eugene to go over the top. He put the coat on the chair and got the shirt out of the wardrobe. Perfectly plain, white-bosomed, white enamel shirt buttons, collar and cuffs attached. Almost acceptable. Dress shoes and plain socks to complete the outfit. But too much. He’d stick to his own clothes.
Not a bad idea to stay the night though. It’d save a long ride in the dark. He had a spare set of clothes and shaving gear at the office, handy if he got wet when he was working, or if he’d had a long weekend with Millicent and got back from Auckland looking a bit rough. He could change there in the morning.
He washed and went back out into the lounge where Eugene was waiting for him. “Did you speak to William?” Eugene asked.
“Yes, and he’s interested in selling to McKenzie.” Courtney sat on one of the lounge chairs. “The truth is there’s more to this than you realise and we’re going to need your help to put things right.” It was difficult to believe he’d been a part of killing six men and now needed help to move the bodies.
Eugene sat too. “Intriguing, I like a good mystery.”
“It’s not the sort of thing that can be too widely broadcast.” He thought of himself as moral and law abiding despite wh
at his sisters thought of him. He leaned forward a little and rested his elbows on his knees.
“We’re alone,” said Eugene.
“And it will only make sense if I go right back to the start.”
“So, start at the beginning.”
Courtney nodded again. “Do you remember the story of why William had to leave England?”
“Deflowered the neighbour’s daughter and her family objected and tried to kill him?”
“Pretty much, but there’s more to the story.”
“Isn’t there always? Enlighten me.”
“The brother tracked William here.”
“How?”
“One of your gang tipped him off.”
“One of the gang? Tim?”
“Yes. When the brother and his men were looking for William in London, they happened to ask Tim if he knew of him. After Tim got on the Remittance, he recognised William and sent a cable to the girl’s brother from Cape Town.”
“Bad luck. And Tim’s death, was that William’s work too?”
“He hasn’t said, but I suspected so at the time. Anyway, the brother got to Auckland and asked around after William. Eventually, Charlotte heard about it. At first, she said nothing about knowing William, but when he jilted her too, she pointed Theobald in his direction.”
“Theobald’s the brother?”
Courtney nodded.
“And he went after William?”
“Yes, with five men.”
“William’s still alive, so they didn’t get him.”
“They did, and they had hurt him badly by the time John and I turned up. They had him tied to the bed, naked and spread-eagled. Theobald had a knife and was slowly carving up William’s chest and threatening to cut off his cock.”
“Jesus. But you and John rescued him?”
“We did, then once William was safe, we had a problem.”
“Six bodies?”
“Exactly, and that’s why we need your help.”
“What would I be helping with?”
“Tunneling through to the bodies and moving them.”
Eugene raised his eyebrows. “Is that all?” he asked, then hesitated. After a while he nodded. “I can help. When does William want to start?”
“Next week, Monday or Tuesday. John and William need time to get set up.”
“Tell William I’ll be there Monday.” Eugene stood as if now he’d agreed to help it was time to drop the subject. “Our meal awaits us,” he said.
Chapter 5
COURTNEY FOLLOWED Eugene to the bar. Through the crowd, he saw Sophie sitting alone at a table playing with the stalk of an empty glass, turning the flute around and around. The slender neck and arms, the dark hair, curls barely contained by the clips holding it escaped around the lovely face, created a seductive picture. When she saw them, she stood as if it was them she’d been waiting for. Her evening dress again young and innocent, in cream lace.
“What are you drinking, Sophie?” Eugene asked after they were seated.
“Champagne, I think.” She nodded at the empty glass. “Miss Pryor gave it to me.”
“Would you like another glass?”
“I don’t know,” said Sophie hesitantly, biting her lip. “Miss Pryor just said I had to wait here for you.”
Eugene ignored the diffidence and nervousness. “I’ll get you one.” He stood again. “Whiskey for you, Courtney?”
“Fine.”
Eugene wandered off to order the drinks.
Courtney waited for Sophie to say something, but she didn’t at first, then she inclined her head a little. “Miss Pryor said you are a surveyor?” she commented quietly.
“Yes.”
Finally, she risked looking directly at him. “Is it interesting work?”
“Usually it is, but the last few days have been tedious.”
“Why?”
“Our firm has been employed to resurvey something we did years ago.” The other girls in the room had none of the elegance or the reserve of Sophie.
“Why would you need to do it again?”
“We’re checking for errors, there is a need to re-establish the boundaries between claims.” Sophie must be learning another part of the business, and she must realise this wasn’t the line of conversation the girl usually pursued in these circumstances.
The conversation died again, and she looked around the room.
“What type of errors?” she asked after a moment.
“Sometimes, when the land is very rough or very steep, some things must be estimated. That can lead to an error. Those errors can accumulate, leading to a misclose.” He shot one palm past the other.
“A misclose?” she asked.
He used his hands to demonstrate boundaries. “To do a closed survey to define boundaries, you must use the coordinates and bearings. Closed surveys are the most likely type to have errors as they are done with a series of traverse lines around a perimeter.
Sophie nodded. “Did you find any?” she asked.
“Some.”
Sophie leaned forward and folded her arms on the table, giving a tantalising view of the curve of her breast. Although she was appealing, she seemed unaware of it. Nothing she was doing was consciously seductive. “Do the errors change things?” There was no fluttering of eyelashes or coyness or flirting.
“Not this time.” And he didn’t think he would be giving a lesson on surveying when he decided to come to the club tonight. “Why are you working here?” he asked.
She didn’t answer, just shook her head, ignoring the question completely this time.
Eugene returned. “Your champagne.” He placed a glass of pale sparkling gold in front of Sophie.
“Thank you,” she said politely, and the conversation moved on.
Charlotte Pryor came sailing across the room. Her clothes were as expensive and fashionable as the girl’s dresses, but less revealing.
“Courtney and Eugene,” she said when she reached them. “I hope Sophie has made you welcome.”
“Sophie is enchanting,” Eugene said obediently.
Then one of the men in dark suits came over and spoke quietly to Charlotte.
“Gone?” she asked.
He nodded.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“It can’t have been long. She can’t have got far.”
“Thank you, I’ll come now.” Charlotte stood.
After Charlotte had disappeared, Sophie was more relaxed and started to talk. “Have you always lived in Paeroa?’ she asked Courtney.
“Yes. I travelled around Europe for a year when I was younger, but mainly I’ve lived in Paeroa.”
Sophie put both elbows on the table, linked her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands. “I’ve been to Europe. My mother and father took me.”
“When were you there?”
“Two years ago. My father thought it would help me with the languages I was learning if we visited Paris and Rome.”
“Avez-vous été à Paris?” Eugene asked.
Sophie was delighted. ”Parlez-vous Français?”
“On nous a enseigné le Français à l’école. J’ai un oncle en France. J’ai utilisé pour rester avec lui.”
“An uncle in France, that would be useful. I have an aunt who lives in Sydney. That is not the same. Do you speak French too, Courtney?”
“A little, though not as well as my friend, it seems.” He had no idea how well either Eugene or Sophie spoke the language. He knew enough to understand what they were saying but that was it.
He watched Sophie as she practised her French on Eugene, enjoying watching her talk, her face animated, her hands moving to emphasise what she was saying. She frowned a little when he corrected her, then smiled and tried again.
“Where else have you been?” asked Courtney.
“We went to London,” said Sophie, her face lit up at the memory. “We saw ‘Romeo and Juliet’ there.”
“What theatre?” he asked.
“The New Theatre.”
“I’ve been there, did you enjoy it?
“I loved it,” she said. “It was so much better than studying the play at school.” This relaxed, confident Sophie was lovely. But she was talking about life as the protected daughter of a wealthy family, travelling with her parents and generally leading a lovely sheltered existence. Something had changed.
They moved to the large and ornate casino filled with men and young girls, the scene reflected over and over in the mirrors around the room. At tables and wheels, the punters gambled, and the girls admired. Craps, roulette, baccarat, blackjack and poker, trying to beat the odds forgetting they knew about house edge and rake.
“What’s your game, Courts?” Eugene asked.
“Poker generally.” It required some skill, though with the amount he’d had to drink, staying away from the tables would be the clever move tonight. “What do you prefer?”
“Blackjack.”
“One is as good as the other.” Courtney moved with Eugene to the blackjack table and watched the game there. Sophie followed them like a shadow.
Across the room, he saw Seth Grogan playing roulette intensely. The boy ran his fingers through his hair, then leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the wheel, hands clenched on the mahogany edge of the table. Seth was the son of Doctor Grogan, the doctor in Waihi where Eliza and Declan lived. Courtney had met the boy before; his father was a friend of Declan’s.
Courtney went over to him. “Good evening, Seth.”
The boy straightened a little, drunk and swaying, he looked younger than his twenty years. “Good evening, Mr Samuels.” He raked his hair with his fingers again, then went back to observing the wheel spin.
Courtney watched for a while. The boy lost, looked disappointed as his chips were raked away, then he put more on the table.
Courtney didn’t like to see money wasted. “Perhaps you should lay off,” he suggested without expecting his advice to be taken.
“In a while,” said Seth predictably, again without even looking up from the wheel. Courtney gave up. He wouldn’t have taken such sensible advice at twenty either. There was no saving the boy from himself.
