Frog Whistle Mine

by Des Hunt

  It was Nick who found the scrape that showed where Duggan had left the main track. From there on it was easier. There were fewer side branches and the tunnels were narrower—the marks were often only metres apart.

  With each new confirmed sighting the tension built in Tony’s body. This was real scary stuff. He was hoping to find something, and then again he wasn’t—it all depended on what they found.

  After following the signs on the walls for ten minutes, they came to a dead end. A large sand fall filled the passageway. Tony looked at his board. ‘I’ve explored here before,’ he said. ‘And there were no sand falls then. It ended in solid rock.’

  ‘The sand is still moist,’ observed Nick. ‘This has come down recently.’

  They both looked at the ceiling. It was one of the few places in the mine that had a sand-filled roof. A large patch had fallen down, but there was something strange about it.

  ‘Shine your lamp at the edge there, Tony.’

  Tony did. ‘Aha,’ Nick said excitedly. ‘Look there! He’s brought it down with a shovel.’

  Tony looked and clearly saw the curved imprint of a shovel blade. ‘Got him,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ve got him.’

  Twenty minutes later, Tony was not so sure. It was hard work shifting the sand. He was regretting not bringing his own shovel. Nick would dig through at the top for a metre or so, and then Tony would burrow down until he reached the hard floor. They figured the evidence would be resting on the floor, not below it.

  On what seemed like the hundredth burrow, Tony’s fingers finally touched something that was neither sand nor floor. It felt like fabric.

  ‘Found it!’ he yelled.

  Furiously they made the burrow wider, scattering sand like dogs digging up a bone. As soon as light got to it, they could see it was a blue backpack. They collapsed back in the sand breathing deeply from the exercise and excitement.

  Nick was the first to speak. ‘It is only a small pack.’ It was small—not a lot bigger than Tony’s school bag.

  ‘But it must be hers,’ said Tony, leaning forward to brush sand from the surface.

  The first part uncovered was a small patch with three blocks of colour; one blue, one white, and one red.

  ‘It is hers, or somebody else who is French,’ said Nick quietly. ‘That is the Tricolor, the French flag.’

  A little while later they were in no doubt. Below the flag, in faint but clearly readable letters, was the name Monique Lafleur.

  ‘Shall we look further?’ asked Tony with a thumping heart. More than ever, he was scared of what they might find.

  ‘I think we should lift the pack and see what is underneath.’ Nick’s voice revealed the tension he also was feeling.

  Quietly, they dug around the sides. One side was rotten and through a hole poked the remains of a red T-shirt.

  ‘That’s the cloth that I found. So it wasn’t her dress.’ Tony felt a surge of relief. He had imagined all sorts of things about that piece of cloth. Now he knew that it had not been on her body—at least not when she was killed.

  ‘The whole thing is falling to bits,’ said Nick. ‘I think we had better leave it where it is. The police can dig further. It is not our job.’

  Tony pulled his camera out of his schoolbag. ‘I’ll take photos.’ He moved into position and began a set of flash shots, getting closer with each one until he was too close for the flash to work properly.

  Then they began putting the sand back.

  Tony said, ‘We should tell the police straight away. I can soon get the number.’

  Nick continued working for a while. ‘There is no hurry. We will leave this so that Duggan will not know we have seen it.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll come back?’

  ‘No. But just in case we will put it the way that it was.’

  When they were finished, they stood checking that everything was right. ‘We will tell the police when the earthquake has been,’ decided Nick. ‘It would not be right to bring them in here when there is going to be an earthquake.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we do it now?’

  ‘No!’ said Nick. ‘I have too much on my mind at the moment. We will do it later.’

  ‘What if Duggan shifts it again?’

  ‘He will not shift it. He will be celebrating all night. He will not be coming back here.’

  Tony was far from happy with that plan. He wanted revenge for the weka, and he wanted it now. Plus he was hoping to impress Rose by doing something quickly. Yet now was not the time to argue about it. He would raise the matter again later.

  Chapter 19

  Tony and Rose spent the rest of New Year’s Eve making a weka coop. The chicks would soon be too big for the banana box, yet too small to defend themselves against stoats, weasels and other predators. Tony wanted something that would ensure they reached adulthood.

  Rose had been in the shed when they returned from the mine. ‘What have you two been doing?’ she asked aggressively.

  Tony answered before Nick had a chance. ‘We wanted to take some more readings in the uranium grotto. We didn’t think you’d be interested.’

  She gave Tony a look that said ‘I know you’re lying.’ Yet she said nothing and the moment passed.

  The coop was built in sections so that the pieces could be dragged to the clearing easily. Even then the pieces were hard to move, and the pair of them made four difficult trips along the track to the caravan glade.

  As Tony assembled the pieces, Rose looked after Salami and Frankfurter. ‘OK you two,’ she said crouching down beside them, ‘it’s time you got educated in the facts of life, so pay attention closely.’ The two black chicks looked up at her expectantly. ‘That’s an excellent start. Frankfurter, you’re first. Are you a boy or a girl?’

  Frankfurter stared at her for a moment before crouching a little and squirting a dropping onto the ground. ‘Ah, I see you’re a boy. No girl would ever do anything so indelicate. So, Salami, are you a girl?’

  Salami closed one eye as if she was winking. Rose leaned forward towards the chick. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I get the message. You’re a girl but you don’t want Frankfurter to know that yet. Good thinking. They can be so boring about this male–female thing. They get one thought in their mind and they become impossible.’

  Tony couldn’t help but laugh.

  Rose sat up quickly. ‘Oh no,’ she moaned. ‘The caretaker’s listening into the lesson again. We’re going to have to be careful. He’s a little bit weird, you know.’ She turned and gave Tony a glare. ‘Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the facts of life. Okay, fact one: I am human and you are weka. It’s best if you remember that or you could get into trouble. Don’t go into human houses and never eat human food. Both things are bad for you. Fact two: there are bad humans and good humans. I am a good human. I will look after you no matter what. Bad humans will try to kill you, or do other things to stop you living the way you should. But you probably know that already seeing as you’ve met the horrible Mr Duggan. Fact three: roads are dangerous. Never, ever walk onto a road.’

  By then the two chicks had sat down and were beginning to doze off. Still Rose chattered on about the things weka should and shouldn’t do. Tony found it entertaining and his job was soon finished. Rose must have been keeping an eye on him, for as soon as he stood up she gave a single clap of her hands. ‘Wake up you two. School’s finished and it’s time to go home.’ The chicks were instantly awake. ‘Right. Frankfurter, you can go with the caretaker, and Salami you can come with me. We’ll have you home in next to no time.’ She picked up Salami and carefully placed her in the run of the coop. Tony did the same with Frankfurter.

  At first the chicks were unsure about their new place, walking around as if expecting something to attack them. Then Tony threw in a few chopped-up worms and their attitude soon changed.

  When they were full, they climbed into the house, tucked their heads under their stubby wings and went to sleep. Tony and Rose were delighted. It was a good feeling to ha
ve some pets to look after, especially such important ones.

  After dinner Tony moved to the computer, hoping to find some information before the crowd gathered for the party. He wanted the police telephone number and the file number for the missing French backpacker, so that he was all ready when Nick decided it was time to make the call.

  The computer sat in a corner alongside a ranchslider leading to the deck. Outside was a bench that was a popular private spot for couples wanting a quiet talk. That evening, the couple was Nick and Christine. They spoke softly, yet with the door open it was impossible for Tony not to hear them. Of course he could have closed the door, but he didn’t.

  Nick was speaking. ‘Do you know the name of that point you can see in the distance?’

  Christine answered. ‘Yes, everybody does. It’s Cape Foulwind.’

  ‘That is not what it was first called.’

  ‘Are you talking about its Maori name? I don’t know that.’

  ‘It is Omau. But that is not what I am talking about either. It was the first place in New Zealand to be given a European name. The first place to ever have a name that was written down.’

  She chuckled. ‘OK, smartboy, so what is it?’

  ‘It is Clyppygen Hoeck.’

  Christine laughed. It was a beautiful loving laugh that—to Tony—sounded like music. ‘No wonder the name was changed. Nobody but you would be able to pronounce it.’

  ‘It is Dutch for “rocky point”. Abel Tasman named it on the fifteenth of December, 1642.’

  ‘Only you would know something like that.’

  ‘No. I think lots of Dutch people would know. We are proud that one of our countrymen came to this land so long ago.’

  ‘Do you think of yourself as being more Dutch than French?’

  After a pause Nick answered, ‘Yes, I think so, since my father died. My mother is very much a Dutch lady.’

  ‘I’d like to meet her,’ said Christine, so softly that Tony could hardly hear.

  ‘I will try to arrange that.’

  ‘Soon?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Why perhaps?’

  The pause here was so long that Tony thought they had left.

  ‘Christine,’ said Nick, quietly. ‘There is something I want to say to you.’

  ‘All right.’ Tony could sense his mother smiling.

  ‘It is a secret. Can you keep a secret?’

  ‘Yes. If it is for you. But maybe I already know what it is you are going to say.’

  ‘I do not think so.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘Tonight there is going to be an earthquake.’

  ‘What!’ she cried.

  Tony almost yelled out too. How could Nick have been so stupid? Did he not know Christine?

  ‘There is going to be—’

  ‘Yes! I heard you. So what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I have already done it. I have set up several seismometers—’

  ‘What are you going to do about people, Nick?’

  ‘Please keep your voice down. I cannot tell people. It will only cause alarm.’

  ‘You’re dead right. It’s already caused me alarm.’ Then after a pause, ‘How strong?’

  ‘About five point eight.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Things will fall off shelves. Perhaps tiles will come down from roofs. Some old chimneys might fall. There may be slips and rock falls.’

  ‘So,’ said Christine, her voice tense with anger. ‘Tonight people will be sleeping in their beds. A chimney may fall on them, and you don’t want to tell them. There might be houses that slide down hills. But you won’t tell them. What about coal miners? They work at night. But you don’t care if the mine falls on top of them.’

  ‘I may be wrong.’

  ‘But what if you’re right?’

  ‘It is not for me to say.’

  ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘Professor Birch. Under our protocol he is the one who makes the decision to tell people.’

  ‘Under your protocol…Is that what you’re hiding behind? Some scientific mumbo jumbo?’

  There was no answer.

  ‘Does anyone else know?’

  ‘I told Tony.’

  ‘You told my son? Did you tell him it was a secret, too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re cruel, Nick. How can you do that to people?’ There was a long pause before Christine continued. Her voice was shaky. ‘I thought I knew you, Nick. I was beginning to like you a lot, more than a lot. But this…We will never be able to agree over this. It is best that we stop things right now. Before we hurt each other any more.’

  A moment later Tony saw his mother walk past the ranchslider with her head down. He could not see her eyes, yet he knew she would be crying. He was close to tears himself.

  Chapter 20

  Tony lay on his bed, processing the conversation he had overheard. His mother often said that eavesdroppers never heard anything nice, and this time she was right. He now wished he hadn’t listened, as if by listening he had caused the argument. Of course it wasn’t true, but Tony did feel some guilt. The whole thing could have been avoided if he’d just said three words: ‘Don’t tell Mum.’ He’d had plenty of opportunity. He hadn’t even thought of doing it. He’d never thought Nick would be so stupid.

  He got up and went to the weka coop where the chicks were having their last feed before bedtime. He sat, watching them scratching and pecking without any worries about their dead parents. If only humans could be like that, he thought. Yet he knew that he wanted to worry about Christine. He needed to. He wanted to care, because she was all he had.

  Some time later he stood up. He had to do something or he would mope all night long. He needed action. Then he thought of the piece of paper in his pocket with the telephone number for the police. He could call them and get Duggan into trouble. What better night to do it than Hogmanay? It didn’t matter whether Nick wanted to wait or not. ‘I did all the work,’ he told himself. ‘I did all the thinking. I should be the one who calls the police.’

  With his mind made up, he went in search of a telephone. There were still people near the one in the kitchen and the one in the lounge was in use. He looked around and there was Rose, sitting by herself TXTing a message.

  ‘Hi, Rose.’

  ‘Hi.’ She continued pressing buttons.

  When she’d finished, he asked, ‘Can I borrow your phone for a while?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Yes, if you tell me something.’

  Tony shrugged. ‘It all depends on what.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Christine and Nick?’

  Tony looked up at the bar where Nick was drinking by himself, staring at the glass. ‘They had a big fight. They’ve broken up.’

  Rose leant forward—ready to store every word. ‘What over?’

  ‘Just something.’ Immediately he wished he’d lied and said he didn’t know.

  ‘What something?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  She pouted. ‘Then you don’t get to use my phone.’

  ‘Aw, come on Rose.’

  ‘OK, you can borrow it as long as afterwards you tell me all the things that are happening.’

  Tony thought about that. Afterwards? That could be hours, days or months. ‘Yeah, all right.’

  ‘Make sure you don’t talk for too long, but. There’s only about an hour left.’

  Tony smiled. He’d never talked on a telephone for an hour in his life. Whatever would you talk about?

  He chose the shed as a suitable place for his telephone call—it was quiet and away from New Year’s Eve revellers. He sat at the bench with the piece of paper in front of him and a pen beside it, in case he had to write something. He felt nervous. This was not the sort of thing you did every day. You didn’t report a murder without being a bit edgy.

  He keyed in the number and then paused to take a deep breath. He pressed connect, and lifted the tele
phone to his ear. It rang. And again, and again. He was beginning to think that the police must have gone out when a woman’s voice answered.

  ‘Police National Headquarters, which department would you like?’

  ‘Ah, um, I’ve got some information about a missing person.’

  ‘One moment, please, and I’ll put you through.’

  Again the telephone rang, but only once this time. ‘Good evening, Constable Kevin Sykes speaking. How can I help you?’

  Tony began his rehearsed speech. ‘I have information about a missing person. It is file number four, nine, seven, three, zero, two.’

  The constable repeated the number and Tony could hear the click-clack of a keyboard. ‘Okay, I’ve got it up on the screen here. Monique Lafleur, went missing at Charleston. Is that the one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What information have you got?’

  ‘I’ve found her missing backpack.’

  ‘That’s interesting.’ Then the man laughed. ‘It’ll be a bit old by now. The clothes won’t be much use. The fashions will have all changed.’

  Tony was amazed at the policeman’s tone. He was joking about it. What was happening here? ‘Sorry?’ was all Tony managed to say.

  ‘The thing is, she’s no longer missing.’

  ‘What?’ This was definitely not what Tony had expected to hear. No longer missing? Then he figured it out. ‘Have you already found her body?’

  ‘No, son. We found her, alive and well. Let’s see, mmm…Yeah, we arrested her almost twelve months ago for working in New Zealand without a permit. She was using a different name and working as a fruit-picker in the Nelson district. We interviewed her, but never pressed charges. Instead she was put on a plane and sent back to France. The case is now closed.’

  Tony was beginning to recover. ‘The website I visited said she was still missing.’

  ‘Which one was that?’

  Tony told him.

  ‘Don’t believe everything you see on the Internet, son. They tend to sensationalise things. That site, in particular.’

  ‘What should I do with the pack?’

  ‘Hold on a mo’, I’m just scrolling down here to see what the story was. Yeah, here we are. She said that the day she went missing she had an argument with a man. She got angry and slapped him. He retaliated and she got beaten about quite a bit. She managed to get away by running into some bushes. Sounds like she was lucky.’