On arrival there Bargheese spoke to the Cadet Under-Officer he had first met, and to some other cadets. When he was satisfied the cadet platoon was alert and had a good system of sentries for the night Bargheese and Falls drove out to the Canning Road. They drove around all their checkpoints, ensuring they were alert and had their headlights on. As they drove back to the highway they met Watkins in the manager’s car. He was coming slowly along, shining a spotlight into the bush.
Bargheese was anything but happy but the plan seemed to be the best that could be done. Amos arrived back from dumping camping gear at Quigley’s Mill so Bargheese got him to drive him back to Charters Towers. Once there he checked at the police station, but there was no new information so he had Amos drive him to Watton’s house. The manager was having after-dinner drinks with his wife and was annoyed at the visit.
Watton stood up and walked to the door. “Excuse me my dear, some business to clear up. Won’t be more than a few minutes.” He led Bargheese to some armchairs on the veranda. Bargheese sat and lit a cigarette. He wasn’t offered a drink. He had never been invited into the manager’s house in three years and the social and racial snobbery rankled.
“You’ve seen Schein’s wife- or rather his widow?” Bargheese asked,
“Yes I have. She was very upset. She could add very little and I didn’t wish to press her at this point. All she could say was that the girl, Elizabeth is her name, is their niece. She said that she was a quiet and gentle girl. She was coming to spend the two weeks of school holidays here because her parents were going to Brisbane on business. I have their address there but so do the police and the inquiries are best left to them.”
“Has the girl been here before? Is she familiar with the district?” Bargheese snapped.
Watton narrowed his eyes at the Indian’s tone but kept his voice controlled. “Yes. She’s been once before - a year ago but she did little travelling - once to the mine and once on a picnic somewhere but that was all.”
“What else do we know about her?”
“She’s fifteen years old, a student at Cairns Central High School in Year Ten and beyond that very little. Her suitcase might tell us more.”
“I have it in Amos’s car. I haven’t had a chance to search it. I’ll do it tonight.”
“The police will want it in the morning,” the manager cautioned. “Oh, and by the way, Mr Smith has been on the phone again.”
Cold fingers of fear gripped at Bargheese.
Watton continued: “Now, tell me how the search is going.”
Bargheese described in detail what he had done, marking in ink on another photocopied map. Watton nodded and seemed satisfied. “We will close mine operations tomorrow and use the remaining miners and all available vehicles and I’ve got a contact sounding out some local lads who will keep their mouths shut if the pay is right. You should have twice as many men tomorrow. The girl must be found. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” The manager stood up and walked off to vanish inside.
Bargheese’s eyes glittered with hate. He ground out his cigarette and returned to the car. “To the mine,” was all he said to Amos and neither spoke another word until they arrived. Bargheese got out, took the suitcase and walked into his quarters without even looking at Amos who spat quietly and swore under his breath before driving the car to the vehicle compound.
In his quarters Bargheese made himself a coffee and washed his tired and dusty face before opening the suitcase. He then carefully unpacked every item, handling the delicate feminine undergarments with mild distaste. It took twenty minutes and from it he could only draw a negative conclusion. All the clothes were for town wear. There were no work clothes such as a bushwalker or horse rider might wear. This cheered him up as it strengthened the suspicion that the girl probably had little experience of the bush, certainly wasn’t dressed for it and therefore her present actions indicated panic and flight - as they had appeared - and were not part of any plan.
The suitcase was repacked. It was after 10pm by then. Bargheese had another drink, a shower and then climbed into his bed. Within minutes he was asleep.
CHAPTER 18
EVIL LUCK
Bargheese was woken by the roar of heavy engines. He rolled over feeling washed out and, with eyes gummed with sleep, looked at his watch. Ten past seven. Ten past seven!
He sprang out of bed in alarm and sweat broke out on his brow despite the morning chill. ‘I should have been awake two hours ago!’ he thought with dismay. ‘We should have resumed the search at daybreak!’ He looked out of the window and saw ten miners in overalls and ‘hard-hats’ climb into five of the giant yellow dump trucks. These drove off with a thunderous roar and high-pitched whine of gears.
Bargheese quickly showered and dressed, then joined Amos and the cook in the mess hall. He ate quickly and within half an hour he and Amos were on their way. The manager met them at the police station.
Another interview with the inspector and his senior sergeants followed. The suitcase was handed over. It was opened and the contents examined. The inspector frowned. “I’m even more puzzled today. There’s nothing in anything I’ve heard, or in the girl’s belongings, which indicates she was planning any sort of sudden high-speed getaway, much less taking to the bush,” he said.
Rather than follow this line of thought Bargheese asked, “Have the girl’s parents been contacted yet?”
The Detective Sergeant replied. “Yes, only an hour ago, in Brisbane. They are quite shocked and cannot explain anything. They are obviously very worried and are flying to Townsville this afternoon and will then drive here,” he explained.
“Is there anything they can tell us to help in the search? For example is the girl familiar with the bush – is she a girl guide or a bushwalker?”
The DS shook his head. “We asked that. They were quite surprised by the question. They said she was a city girl, didn’t like the bush. Apart from a few picnics she has never been in the bush - no bushwalking or camping.”
“So if she is hiding she must be in trouble - scared, cold, hungry,” Bargheese said. He then went on to discuss the day's search. “Can I suggest NORMAC search the north side of the highway while the police search the south side, and maintain the roadblocks.”
The inspector sucked his teeth. “Yes, well, that’s a simple arrangement. We’ll do that but we can only keep the roadblocks up for another 24 hours at most. After that we’ll assume she has slipped through and is back here or in Townsville. We can only spare two men to search. There’s been a hundred head of cattle lifted from Maloney’s place last night and the Stock Squad needs some help.”
Bargheese left Watton to finalize the details. He went thoughtfully out to where Amos waited in the car. As they drove towards the search area he puzzled over what a young girl with no bush experience would do, especially after a cold night alone in the bush with no food.
It was nearly 10am by the time he arrived at Bare Ridge. The five dump trucks were deployed along the highway from Bunyip Bridge to the east. Falls showed him on the map.
“I want to keep her away from the highway,” he said. He then explained his plans for a foot search of the area cordoned off.
“We have all the miners in position?” Bargheese asked.
“Yes. The last two have just moved to the junction of the Canning Road and Yabby Waterhole Track. That’s about two kilometres west of ‘Canning Park’ Homestead. I’ve told one to go and watch the river bank,” Falls explained. He went on: “That cadet platoon has moved. It’s down the Canning Road near the causeway. Lewis can see them from his vehicle. They searched those gullies on the way and Watkins reports there are another hundred cadets in twenty patrols scouring the area around the army camp.” Falls pointed on the map.
Bargheese then called for the helicopter while Falls and four security men began their foot search. Once in the helicopter Bargheese’s spirits rose. ‘The hunt is now on! The girl must be pinned down and all we have to do is flush her out!’
He
flew first to the junction of the Yabby Waterhole Track and checked that the two men there knew what to do. Then he flew to ‘Canning Park’ homestead and checked.
The grazier was alert. “We even counted the bloody chooks,” he assured Bargheese.
Bargheese spent the next three hours circling the area, flying low up every creekline, dropping down to look at tracks in sandy river beds, landing pistol in hand to check windpumps and waterholes. He visited ‘Legget’s Lagoon’ Station and spoke to the owners, then the police roadblock at Mingela. He even searched a derelict and overgrown farm beside the railway, but all to no avail. ‘Where the devil is she?’ he angrily pondered.
The pilot interrupted his thoughts to say: “Our Cessna's just landing at the mine and we need fuel, Mr Bargheese.” Randall was listening in on his earphones to the Flight Services Radio frequency. Bargheese reluctantly nodded and they flew back to the airfield, arriving a couple of minutes after the light plane. As they approached they skimmed in low past the stony flank of a steep ridge near the airstrip to land. Randall then landed beside a row of fuel drums to refuel.
Bargheese instructed the new security man from ‘Fossickers’ to go to Mingela. Next he went to the mining camp while the pilots and mechanic got on with refuelling and servicing the aircraft. Bargheese washed, had lunch, then again studied the map. The pilots arrived and began to eat. Bargheese didn’t like the way they were murmuring together. Of all the mine workers they could most easily make a getaway and he needed them for the search. He also had the outline of his own escape plan forming as he knew time was running out. The Cessna figured prominently in that plan.
Watton arrived at that stage and sat down at the table. Flies buzzed against the window screens of the almost empty mess hall and the heat was stifling. The manager looked haggard with worry. “What will we do about that plane that’s due here tomorrow night? They’ve started their journey from Fiji already. Do we cancel? Or divert?”
Bargheese pondered. That plane was a twin-engine ten seater with a thousand nautical mile range. It would make an even better escape vehicle for him and he had mentally set the following night as his own deadline.
“No. Let it continue. The less radio traffic the safer we are. We’ve got this girl trapped. It will only be a matter of time before she is found.”
“I hope you’re right. Mr Smith has been on the phone twice. We are ‘dead ducks’ if that briefcase falls into the wrong hands,” Watton said. As he spoke the manager's voice began to rise as his fears got hold of him and his hands shook.
“Get a hold of yourself Watton! We’re in this together. Have you got me any pig-men?”
“Yes, two. They said they’d be here by three o’clock.”
It was half two. Bargheese tried to appear relaxed and had another cup of tea. Then he and the manager walked to the air-conditioned office.
“Where’s the clerk?” Bargheese asked as he sat down thankfully in the cool.
“Julie? I sent her home. She doesn’t know anything but was getting worried and I thought she was better out of it.”
“Who mans the radio then?”
“O’Malley the cook and Hurst the storeman. They can both be relied on,” Watton replied. They began discussing the problem of keeping the truth from the honest miners and tradesmen.
A vehicle drew up outside; a battered brown Landcruiser with a large steel-mesh cage bolted on the back. Three huge bull-terriers - all snarling and scarred- were chained there. Two men got out. Bargheese and Watton went out to meet them. Bargheese had to hide his repugnance but smiled with satisfaction. One man was huge, with tattooed arms bulging from a sleeveless denim jacket, open at the front to expose a massive beer-gut. A ring of boar-tusks hung around the man’s neck on a gold chain. He was ugly, scarred in the face, unshaven, with several teeth missing and his hair looked a greasy black mass which had never seen comb or soap.
The other was thin, sour-faced, in filthy jeans and torn stockman’s shirt and fancy cowboy hat with bullets around its crown. Neither had shoes on and both stank.
“I’m Lenny,” said the big one. He spat in the dust at Watton’s feet and looked at Bargheese. “This is Wally. We hunt pigs and things, for a price.”
Bargheese outlined the problem. Lenny smiled. “Hear that Wally. This be fun mate. Listen Mister, you get the briefcase. We keep the girl and no-one says nuthin’ and we want our money good like or we come fer ya.”
Watton paled but made no protest.
An evil leer crossed Wally’s face. “A girl Lenny. That’ll be good mate. Haven’t had one for a while.”
Bargheese inwardly shuddered with revulsion then thrust the probable fate of the girl, if she fell into the hands of these two, from his mind. His own life was at stake. He gave them a map and instructions to search Scrubby Creek and Five Mile Creek.
The two pig-hunters drove off along the dirt road which ran north of the Bunyip for 12km to ‘Canning Park’. Watton looked worried but said nothing. Bargheese knew the man could not be relied on much longer.
“Get on the radio. Tell Falls to move his two men from Quigley’s Mill. They are to go to search the track from the Highway to Tom’s Yard and along Five Mile Creek east from there to the highway. I’ll get back to the search.”
Bargheese was driven back to the airfield and resumed the search in the helicopter. They circled low over the anabranches in the big bend of the Bunyip, around Canning Junction and down past the railway bridge along one bank and back up the other. As they passed Bare Ridge movement on the Canning Road caught his eye. What looked like a line of ants resolved itself into soldiers - or cadets.
He landed and spoke to the cadet captain and his staff thanking them for their help. Then he asked if they could help further. The captain reluctantly agreed but said not that afternoon as the cadets had to walk to Canning Junction and set up a bivouac and it was 4:30pm by this. He agreed to help the following morning.
The captain then invited Bargheese to visit his No 4 Platoon which had moved to Black Knoll. “You will get a good view of the area from up there,” he explained.
Bargheese agreed and got into Falls’ Landcruiser and discussed the search with him while they followed the army Land Rovers. He was getting very worried as the second day was slipping away and there was still no sign of the girl.
Once on Black Knoll Bargheese had to listen to the Cadet Under-Officer whom he’d first met give minutely detailed orders to his NCOs. Bargheese wished to question the boy but had to restrain his impatience. In spite of himself he was impressed by the youth’s power of command and self-confidence, surprising in one so young.
Afterwards, when the corporals went to give their orders to their sections, Bargheese did ask the CUO some questions but the boy didn’t seem very interested. Bargheese dismissed him from his mind and went to look around.
The captain had been right. There was an excellent view from the knoll and especially from the cliff top. At that point the CUO annoyed him by asking him and others standing behind a section to move away. A very nervous girl cadet with freckles all over her face was giving orders.
‘Blasted girls!’ Bargheese thought as he looked down and saw that several of the cadets at his feet were also girls.
He moved further along the cliff top only to have another girl annoy him, the ginger-haired Cadet Sergeant Major who pointed out how hard it would be to search the rubber vines. The other cadets made similar depressing comments which doubly irritated him by their truth and their humour.
Having looked around Bargheese decided he would not leave Martinez with 4 Platoon again but would try to maintain a watch on Bare Ridge. ‘I still don’t have enough reliable men and these cadets seem to be fully ‘on-side’ and on guard,’ he decided.
As they walked back to the vehicles he gave instructions to Falls. “You and Berzinski go with the captain and spend the night in his headquarters. That is just in case the cadets do find the girl and she tries to spin them a yarn. Martinez and Lewis can keep w
atch up where our search HQ is now. I don’t think anything will happen tonight unless the girl tries to make a break for it or gets caught stealing.”
Bargheese reached the vehicle. To his dismay he saw that the sun was well down in the west. His spirits were sinking with it. It was the end of their second day of searching and they had found nothing!
He climbed into the Landcruiser and slammed the door in anger. “Take me to the helicopter.”
The vehicle turned and bounced down the rough track to the Canning Road, then turned right and drove up to Bare Ridge. Bargheese got out and called in the NORMAC men there. The sun was now setting scarlet behind them.
“Listen you fools, we must find this girl! If we don’t get that briefcase some of us are going to meet mysterious accidents. The ‘Bigs’ in Sydney are threatening. So if you don’t want to end up in jail - or in the harbour with concrete boots, then start putting your brains and your backs into this search,” he snarled.
The helicopter flew in, low from the west. Bargheese stalked over to it, leaving the security men muttering behind him. Amos began asking querulous questions about food and camp gear. Bargheese ignored him and climbed into the helicopter. Randall took off at once and flew almost due west. By then the sky was a mass of orange and crimson but Bargheese had no eyes for its beauty. It made him think of blood.
By the time they arrived at the airfield the ground was in shadow. It was twilight when the storeman drove Bargheese back to the mine. Bargheese walked into his quarters, his stomach a knot of fear and his mind weighed down by a pall of despondency. Dark! No more time to search! He almost tore off his soiled and sweaty clothes. He had a shower and dressed in clean clothes then sat for a moment in the quiet of his pleasant air-conditioned room and pondered his next move.
‘Should I run now? Tonight? While there is still time?’ he wondered. He was exhausted and knew it. He found it an effort to think straight and his muscles ached. The sun and hours of flying had given him a splitting headache and his stomach felt upset.
The Cadet Under-Officer Page 18
