Garrett & Sunny: Sometimes Love is Funny

by Peter Butler

  'Of course.'

  ***

  The sudden awareness of what had happened to her had made Sunny almost totally symptom free. She pulled up her underwear and left the toilet, completely forgetting she had a desperate need to pee. She had a massive gap in her memory and she knew from Garrett's description of his symptoms, a few nights before, that she had been "date-raped" under the influence of Rohypnol. Her mind was clear enough to make the connection that the common factor in both cases was Simon - her piece of shit, boss.

  She returned to his office and began a systematic search. His desk drawers were not locked and she carefully checked them. Her long-term memory was coming back strongly now that she had become motivated. She remembered the program they had made on date-rape drugs had shown Rohypnol came in both liquid and tablet form. The tablets were easily dissolved and were odorless and usually colorless. Ironically that same program must have been when Simon obtained his supply of Rohypnol.

  The desk was clear. The filing cabinets were locked, but she knew Simon kept a spare set of keys taped under his desk, hidden at the back of the drawers.

  She began to check the filing cabinet drawers, first going quickly through each one, and when that preliminary search turned up nothing, each draw was investigated in detail. Rather than flip between all the pages inside each file she reasoned that pills or a bottle could be felt, so she lay each file on the desk and ran her flattened hand over it. The search had been underway for about ten minutes before she was rewarded with a bulge that deserved further investigation. She flicked her fingers through the sheets of paper to locate the lump. She pulled out a plastic zip-lock bag and looked closely at it. It had a gray-green plant material inside it which she assumed was marijuana. She placed it back where she had found it and returned the file to the cabinet. It was labeled "H". A thought occurred to her - If Simple Simon keeps his hash or hemp under "H" then maybe...

  She had already been through the "D"- for "date-rape" file, so maybe the "R" file was worth jumping ahead to. It was a bulky file and she lay it carefully on the desk and began feeling for any tell-tale signs.

  Success! She opened the file and found the source of the lump. This time it was a blister-pack, like any other pharmaceutical prescription product. It was filed correctly under "R" for Rohypnol.

  You piece of shit, Simon...

  Sunny sat in Simon's chair and put her feet up on his desk. The blister pack in her hand had three pills missing. She could only account for two. Simon must have another victim out there, somewhere. Maybe he tried one himself to judge the impact. Maybe he slipped one to Susie, his wife, to observe her reactions. One thing she could be sure of, Simon was a highly intelligent, calculating bastard. She had no idea why he would do something as criminally risky as raping her. And, why her? All she could come up with by way of an acceptable explanation, was, life had become boring and predictable for him and he needed to do something on the other side of the "edge".

  Maybe she could find a way to help him with that...

  ***

  The trip back to our hotel was subdued. Truf was driving and I sat beside him. The GPS had stored our days activity and we reversed it to make our way back to the road. Once we had located our original track in, it was easy to follow as the car had flattened a clear path through the tall grass.

  I had lots to do when we got back to the Drover's Dog. The time difference between here and London meant that I could comfortably call people knowing that 6 p.m. for me was 9 a.m. for them, and we were both on the same day. My mind drifted to little Joey. He's quite a kid and I knew he'd be doing it tough for some time, after what happened today. That thought made me sad.

  I liked the aborigines I'd met. Their world was a lot smaller than mine, but, in its own way was just as complex. I dealt with virtual things like money and perception, where they dealt with the reality of feeding and sheltering themselves. It made me realize that we were all fighting the same battle, but in my case the Government had put an artificial layer between me and the harsh reality of survival. That layer was called money and it allowed us to exchange goods and services without the need for like-to-like transactions. By that I mean, if I needed milk I wouldn't need to find something the farmer wanted to swap his milk for.

  Money was a great invention when it was linked to gold, but letting the Central Banks of the world determine how much money they can print is an absolute disaster of an idea. Money would only remain a viable means of exchange as long as we all had confidence in it. Lately, I'd been steadily losing my confidence, given that my Government was printing the stuff like confetti. As was America, Japan, China. In fact pretty much all the nations that are party to the current economic system that we blindly follow are printing currency like mad. Inflation, maybe hyperinflation, depression, maybe systemic collapse, something is going to give and pretty soon.

  I was preparing - I no longer actually counted my personal wealth in dollars, I used assets, and our discovery today fitted perfectly into my preparations.

  The evils of money were responsible for Warra's troubles, too. The civilized world can only exist at its unreal level with liberal access to power. And oil was at the heart of it, and it was becoming depleted, which was driving the need for different sources of power. Hence, CSG wells were popping up all over the world and with them the potential for massive destruction was increasing with every hole drilled.

  'What are you going to do with the rocks you collected, Truf?' Tim asked after we had eventually turned back onto the main road and finally got up to a decent speed.

  'Not much,' he replied. 'I can't get an accurate grading of the gold samples without milling the rocks and refining them. But I don't need to. I know it's gold, and it's the richest bunch of seams I've ever seen, judging by what we can actually see.'

  'I've never seen gold in its natural state,' Tim said. 'Is that how it normally looks?'

  Truf burst out laughing. Finally, he said, 'Oh Tim, if you only knew how far from normal those rocks actually are, you'd be laughing with me. A normal gold bearing sample of quartz would have a few thin specks, maybe the size of a grain of sand, or perhaps a thin vein about as thick as the line a pen makes on a page. Occasionally, a sample will have a larger showing. What we picked up in fifteen minutes is close to a mother-lode. I'm blown away by it. My guess is we have between $20,000 and $30,000 in gold in the cooler behind you.'

  'This is sounding better by the minute,' Tim said with a sly chuckle.

  'Don't get any ideas, Tim. Technically, we've stolen that gold. It belongs to Plutarch, so we have to just sit on it. If I put it in for processing, I'll be getting the results forwarded to me in jail.'

  While the other two discussed their lives of crime I'd been wondering about how we needed to proceed. 'What do you need to do tomorrow, Truf?' I asked.

  'I'd love to start mapping and drilling the area to find out a rough idea of how large the gold-bearing seams are. That process alone can take a year or two. We only have another day or two.' Truf looked around at me and shrugged his shoulders.

  'So the best you can do is just look for surface gold in the surrounding area to get an idea of its extent?' I asked.

  'We!.. old boy. The three of us need to spread out and scratch away. Bearing in mind that we can't do anything too obvious to the ground. We don't want to alert, what's-his-name - the CSG vandal?'

  'Felix.' I offered.

  'I think I should have a chat with that chap. Get a feel for what he's about.' Truf said.

  'You heard George, Truf. The guy's to be avoided,' I offered.

  Truf ignored my comment completely. 'You know, around a hundred years ago most discoveries had ore that averaged around 100g/ton of gold. Today, its under 2g/ton. All the easy to find gold has already been discovered.' Truf paused to allow that to sink in. 'What we've found has the potential to be a big deal.'

  Both Tim and I liked the sound of that.

  'Assuming the gold bearing rock continues deep into the earth, or spread
s out over a big area. Preferably both,' Tim added, with a hopeful smile.

  'Yeah,' Truf agreed. 'What I'd like to know is why this area has been ignored, especially seeing there are mining companies already working here.'

  'They're probably just fixated on finding gas. And from what I've seen today, these clowns couldn't find gas if you led them to a BBQ gas bottle,' I said.

  'Maybe,' Truf acknowledged. 'But I still intend to do some research on this area and see what's going on. It has never been a recognized area for gold. The main thing to remember is not to mention this find to anyone. Wives, lovers, workmates, grandmothers, psychiatrists,' he looked in the mirror at Tim and then across the car to me. 'Anyone!'

  'Got it,' we both said in unison.

  'Do you think I have a psychiatrist?' Tim said, offended at the suggestion.

  Truf just grinned at him in the mirror. 'I said, psychiatrists - plural.'

  We continued to discuss and plan the next few days as we drove on through the uninteresting, hot desolate countryside. I watched through the side window and thought of a ten year old boy wandering through that environment, all alone now. The landscape flicked by as I drifted into my deep thoughts and then suddenly I was looking at a picture of Australia I'd seen in books, many times. I shouted, 'Hey! Look over there.' I pointed through my window and the other two turned quickly to see what all the excitement was about. 'Kangaroos,' I said. 'I've finally seen some.' A group of five was bouncing their way across an open area, not far from the road.

  'Afraid not, Gary,' Truf said. 'They're Wallabies.'

  'Oh shit. How can you tell?'

  'Wallabies are gray, Kangaroos are a red color.'

  Chapter 8

  We parked outside the Drover's Dog and Truf went to the back of the Land Cruiser and made sure any tools, that might give a hint that we were something other than tourists, were covered with the large picnic blanket that had come with the car. Sammy's idea I assume, as not many used cars have that accessory. The cooler had the lid closed and looked innocent enough. After that he double-checked that the car was locked by yanking on every door handle, then we headed to the hotel, patting the little bronze dog as we filed past him. In my mind he had become a monument to the tough, brave little Nine who had epitomized the characteristics needed to live in this harsh pocket of the world. Not that it had worked out well for him.

  'G'day boys. Get up to anything interesting today?' George, the publican, called out when he saw the three of us walk in covered in sweat. Not that we were alone with that, everyone walked in bathed in sweat.

  'Nah,' I said, as we headed towards the bar. 'Just the usual stuff. Getting lost in the bush, tripping over some rocks and having to deal with an Eastern Brown snake as long as a truck.' I grinned at him. 'Same crap we get to deal with every day in London, although I think the snakes back home have a different name and wear sneakers,' I laughed at my silly joke. George just smiled politely. 'Could have stayed in the UK and saved our money... We'll have three of your coldest brews, barkeep.' I added, in my finest British accent.

  The light banter with a guy whose wife I had banged that very morning should have caused me some stress, but strangely it didn't. I guess some marriages are destined to end in the garbage bin. She had been 100% responsible for what happened. I was merely her weapon of choice. I felt sorry for the guy, for sure, but he married her - I only screwed her. And, I had every intention of showering again tomorrow morning. A thought that had been in and out of my brain repeatedly, throughout the day.

  The three of us enjoyed our beer, letting the cold liquid linger in our mouths a little longer than usual. The conversation was football, and how Tim intended to teach Joey how to kick an Aussie football when he had never kicked one himself. Gold didn't get a mention. When our glasses were drained Truf and I headed up to our rooms to make some calls and send off emails. Tim decided to stay and have another beer as he wasn't needed for this work. He told us he was planning to call Megan before he went to bed.

  The good news about the Drover's Dog was that it not only had electricity and the telephone connected, it also had access to the internet. I was totally impressed. Global communication from the middle of nowhere. Then I understood why. The enemy we had come to do battle with had taken hold of this area. Culgawinya was near a huge underground gas-field, an area called the Surat Basin and it was inundated with CSG wells, all owned and operated by corporations. Corporations who need to be connected. And Governments adore corporations.

  Based on the gold I had seen at the site I had already made the decision to buy as much Plutarch stock as I could. That amount of visible gold would easily double the stock price, probably a lot more, when the speculators got wind of it. I fired up my laptop and scrolled down the mail in my inbox. Sky had sent me an updated list of Plutarch's major shareholders. The good news was that Megan and I weren't on it, and I silently thanked Gerald for delaying the paperwork. Hopefully he could stretch it out a little longer. The Chinese owned company, registered in Australia, called MienOne Pty Ltd, held 9.5% of the shares. Sky had made a note that they had acquired Plutarch shares about the same time Gran and Ed had been buying. This was the holding controlled by Ling Mien that Gerald had mentioned, and he was losing money. Billionaire Daddy would most likely be unimpressed with honorable son. I filed that information away in my brain.

  Sky had included information about my competitor businesses in the USA - the hedge funds who were the other major holders of Plutarch shares. They were Samson-Jonkins, and Ambic Leveraged Investments, both were known to me and neither was usually a longterm holder of stock. They took positions in companies they considered ripe and waited for a takeover to be announced. Then negotiated a nice pay-day for themselves, by playing all the interested parties off against each other. Neither company had owned the stock for very long and the price was near where they had bought in at.

  They were highly leveraged speculators and I knew they would be hot for a deal - at the right price. Which would not be the current price. If they were warehousing the stock for an anonymous buyer, then that would all be wrong. But, if they were warehousing there would most likely have been some increase in both their holdings of Plutarch, and also the share price. Neither of those things had happened. The first scenario seemed most likely.

  The other large holding that interested me was registered to: Mackintime-Overly Family Trust. It was based in Sydney and controlled by Dr. John Mackintime. The trust owned 4.5% of Plutarch.

  I pulled out the sheet I had printed back in London with all the information on Plutarch that I had found. I saw it immediately. MienOne held 10.8% just a week ago. Now they had 9.5%. Ling Mien was a seller. Excellent news.

  I had lots to go over with Sky and there was no way it was going into an email. Even a digital phone connection is not secure these days, but time was vital here and what are the odds of someone being interested in me. Or Sky, for that matter.

  I read Sophie's email which was detailed information about the main shareholders financial situations. MienOne was a private company and information about it was almost non-existent. But I guessed it was very capable of causing me big trouble if they found out the true situation with Plutarch Resources. As I had guessed the two hedge funds were leveraged up to their eyeballs. The Mackintime-Overly Trust was solid and had no debt attached. Dr. John was apparently a straight arrow, just adding a little speculative action to his portfolio of shares.

  I used my own phone to call Sky, not knowing the phone setup in the hotel and not wishing for anyone in this part of the world to hear my conversation. It seemed safer.

  'Good morning, Sky,' I said cheerfully.

  'Hi Gary. Or should I say Good Evening?' She replied, mindful of the time difference.

  'As long as you say it nicely, I don't mind.'

  'Hey, I'm sorry I snapped last time. I slept badly that night. The idiots next door had a party and, well...'

  'I understand. Forget about it,' I said. 'How's your mind today?'
>
  'Razor sharp and keen to hear all about this Sunny.'

  'Sunny is just great. I hope. But I need to talk to you about work. Do you have a pen handy?'

  'I've had one surgically attached to my hand, for this very call and the many others I assumed I'd be getting.'

  I laughed. 'I've been too busy to call. But I've been getting plenty of texts from the work computer telling me both you and Soph have been logging in from outside computers. I appreciate the work you've both done. I'm onto something big here and if it works out you girls will be heading for a big bonus.'

  'Now, you have my undivided attention. The pen surgery is about to pay-off,' she chuckled.

  'I need you to step up and do my role while I'm in Australia. The Nixon Fund is going to take a sizable position in Plutarch Resources. I want you to open negotiations with Ling Mien to purchase his entire holding, off-market. Firstly, confirm that he hasn't sold any more of his shares on-market and that his holding is still 9.5%. That's important Sky. I want you to offer him 9.5c a share, not a penny more for whatever his holding is at the moment. I know that's very unusual and normally we would need to offer him a premium well above the current market price to buy such a large parcel of shares. But I've had a psychic flash occur to me, I think he'll be calling you to accept in two days time.'

  'Gary, You're clearly up to something that you won't talk about. You do realize he's probably going to just hang up in my ear when he hears your offer of 9.5c.'

  'Just make sure he knows who we are and get his email address. I doubt he will hang up, though, he'll just assume you've come in with a low first offer. And Sky, I want you to send him an email right after the phone call, confirming the offer in writing. Give the offer an expiry time of close of business, say 5:30 p.m. two days from now, Aussie time. You need to stress it is an unconditional cash offer and will be withdrawn after that time. Get our lawyers to draw up the official offer and courier it to him.'