Heni Hani and the Magic Pendant: Part 1 (Heni Hani and the fears of the unknown)

by Peter Ness

  All this time, I sat watching from the top of the stairway. My sister Teresa was lying on the carpet at the top next to Jo. Teresa was engrossed in reading Jo a Noddy book. A pile of mostly Famous Five and Secret Seven Enid Blyton children’s adventure books were strewn over the floor.

  I looked up from my Marty Mouse comic.

  ‘The Loo is through the back,’ Ashton nodded in the general direction.

  ‘Loo—?’ Kirin asked quizzically. Looking up, he stared at me as if he knew all about me and my entire past and future, already.

  ‘The lavatory—, latrine—, long-drop—, shit-pit—. You know — the crapper,’ Ashton said. ‘Anyway, you get the picture?’ The shop door bounced on its hinges as the young bloods left. ‘They’re all that away.’ He pointed in the opposite direction with a grin.

  ‘Loo—? Long-Drop —? Crapper —? Oh. I get the gist of it,’ Kirin said.

  ‘He means the toilet,’ Pops translated, just to be safe, still sweeping the floor.

  ‘Yes, go through the back. Sorry. We’re rather busy today. The toilet is around on the right,’ Mother added, apologetically, returning from the kitchen with a customer order. She pointed. ‘Through there.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks so much. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a minute.’ Kirin walked through the passage to the back of the shop, leaving them talking.

  ‘So, you’re a coupler Yanks huh? What the heck are you doing Down Under? You here for the Tuna fishing, or the Great Whites?[6]’ Ashton asked, quizzically.

  ‘Actually, we’re both geologists. We work for a small American mining company — Blue Sky Mining. You’ve probably heard of BSM before? No?’ Fred Thurman said. He shifted on his feet, hoping that Ashton wouldn’t see through his deliberate lie.

  They both sat down.

  ‘We’re from Crackatinnie,’ replied Ashton.

  ‘Is that so?’ Fred eyed their attire and nodded. ‘Yes. I guess I would’ve pegged you for farmers. Crackatinnie, where’s that?’ He said it as if it was new to him, as if he never knew.

  ‘Up the peninsula forty clicks north of here mate,’ Ashton explained, ‘on a fine day.’

  ‘Is that near Telawopa?’ Fred asked, playing ignorant.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right mate. You have it pegged. Do you know the area?’ Ashton replied, raising his eyebrows.

  ‘Not really, but we do have a bit of business pending up that way,’ Fred explained. ‘Look, maybe you can point us in the right direction. A place called — Nundrapilly — I think?’ he sounded unsure of himself.

  ‘No worries mate. That’s to the north of Crackatinnie, not far from Telawopa. On the same beaten track. Hey, look. Why don’t you guys pull up a chair so we can chat—?’ Ashton stood back up. He dragged his table around and placed it end-on-end with Fred’s table.

  Fred helped move the chairs. Jesse stood. Passing his chair across to Ashton he sat down at the window seat of Fred’s table. Then he stole a glance across at Mother. Fred made a mental note of Jesse’s love interest. He drew a map out of his pocket. Unfolding it, he duly placed it on the table.

  Tossing my Marty Mouse comic onto a wooden step, and reaching out from the top step I picked up a Atom comic from in front of Teresa. She lay just above me. A glint of light flashed up at me through the shop window.

  #

  Meanwhile, up the peninsula, in Sneaky Bay:

  Amanda Thomas wandered down the narrow track behind the row of beach shacks strung out around Sneaky Bay licking an ice-cream, flicking flies away as she walked. The skinny twelve-year old sandy-blonde girl in the blue bikini stopped now. Taking off a thong she flicked off the sand and placed it back on, then continued to amble down the track.

  A white rusty panel van, lined with dark purple-black tinted side windows which had turned bubbly in the hot sun, trundled along slowly at a snail’s pace, following her. Amanda glanced over her shoulder noticing it, and then moved off the track to let it past, but it stopped pulling up with a shudder. The girl played with her shoulder-length hair, took another lick of the ice cream and ignoring the van kept walking. Two motorbikes buzzed down the road towards Amanda now, passing the panel van and pulling up next to her. The van turned, and puttered off in the opposite direction.

  ‘Hi Amanda. Hows things?’ Brian Hani asked with a cheeky dimpled grin, revving his 100 cc motorbike.

  ‘Jump on, and I’ll give you a ride Amanda?’ Charlie Henton, the scruffy and brawny twelve-year old red head with the freckles asked.

  ‘Nup! Not interested Charlie. I’m not that kind of girl. But, you know that.’ Amanda replied. ‘Christie Ross is though. Speak of the devil. There she is now. Not there. She’s on the beach, you silly.’

  ‘Well, hope you like sand in your ice cream then?’ Charlie spat out, spinning his back wheel and spraying Amanda with sand maliciously. Amanda stepped back, her hand dropping to cover and protect her ice cream, twisting her ankle. Both bikes buzzed off towards the girl waving her hand at them from on the beach.

  ‘Thanks a lot Charlie. Now you’ve gone broke my thong.’ Amanda kicked at the sand. ‘And my ice cream is covered with sand. Oo Yuk!’ Spit! She tossed it onto the ground in disgust. Spying it, a group of seagulls flapped overhead in the light breeze. Then she picked her broken thong up in her hand to examine it, dangling it between two fingers. Now she glanced over her shoulder and frowned. That white van was following her again. Amanda shrugged, turned away, hobbled in pain over to her parent’s shack, dragged open the door and waltzed inside. ‘Mom! I’m back.’

  Chapter 5: The Serial Killer Strikes again

  Meanwhile, back at Locke’s Café:

  A greenish-black EH Holden drew up quietly next to Ashton’s truck across the street from Locke’s café. Two men stepped out. An immaculately dressed US Air Force major shut his driver’s side door ever so gently. He then turned, stared across towards the café, and took his time crossing the street. The older man, a general, stood by the front of the car waiting, glancing down at his wrist watch. The younger officer removed his hat and clipping it onto his shoulder lapel wandered into the shop.

  Inside the café, Jesse’s eyes were focused on my mother.

  ‘Jesse, this is—,’ Ashton said.

  ‘I’m Fred Thurman — from Chicago. Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ Fred held out his hand, eyeing off the big man.

  ‘G’day mate. I’m Jesse,’ with that, Jesse reached over the table shaking Fred’s hand vigorously. ‘Don’t be a stranger. Sit down. Make yourself at home.’

  ‘My buddy Kirin — he’s at the toilet. He’ll back in a minute,’ Fred said.

  ‘So, he is at the shitter,’ Jesse replied with a straight face. Fred looked at Jesse who grinned broadly.

  ‘It’s a joke. He’s just pulling your jockstrap, Fred. You know, horsing around. Take a seat,’ Ashton laughed.

  Fred nodded, sitting down with a slight crunch. Just as abruptly he bounced back up to his feet once the man walked in. Fred recognized him almost immediately.

  ‘Tom! Major Tom Fargo? Is that you?’ Fred called, sounding surprised. He took a step towards Tom.

  From my position perched at the top of the stairs Tom seemed shorter and thinner than Fred — and he looked really old — in his early thirties at least, I guessed, squinting. Tom’s short brown hair, close shave and sharp dress-sense defined him. He checked his hair was in place and pulled his tunic tight. His brown smiling eyes took their time to survey the scene, moving from person to person and from object to object, finally up, resting on me. Our eyes met and mine quickly moved away. Even at that distance, I noticed the scar on the side of his neck. Tom’s athletic appearance suggested a fast runner, quite agile. I certainly wouldn’t be able to keep up with him and I was the fastest kid in school.

  Being unusually observant, not much passed Tom’s attention — not even Pops picking his nose or that fly buzzing in the window — so when he looked at me and nodding, smiled. And then wiggled his finger at me as if he knew me, I scowled.r />
  ‘Why are you looking at me that way? I’ve never seen you before in my life.’ The thought rocketed through my head.

  Tom Fargo ambled across to Fred and stopped. They clasped hands vigorously.

  ‘Well, well. If it isn’t Fred Thurman! What in god’s name are you doing in this neck of the woods? I haven’t seen you since Groom Lake. That was three or four years ago,’ Tom lied. ‘And—, you are doing well for yourself. Quite a pad you have,’ Tom Fargo laughed, patting Fred’s stomach, while glancing around. Taking in his surroundings, he analyzed the individual personalities and any viable escape roots at a single glance.

  ‘He was at the Jesus statue, as well,’ Teresa muttered, glancing up. Then she looked back down at the Noddy book and continued reading it to Jo.

  ‘So Tom, old buddy, I see that you’re still a test dummy for the US Air Force?’ Fred replied jokingly, with a glint of a smile escaping his eyes.

  ‘Yes. That’s right, Sir! I just flew over for some tests at Woomera Rocket Range,’ Tom Fargo explained. He may as well tell the truth. He had nothing to hide.

  Tom took another quick glance up at me and winked. Then he spun around on one boot, glancing quickly through the window at his vehicle parked on the opposite side of the road. Raising his eyebrows now, he nodded at the general standing by the car. His eyes slid back up at me, then towards Fred. ‘That’s General Wheatley. I guess you know him.’

  Fred nodded.

  ‘I sure do. We did time in Nam[7] together. When’re you heading back to the states?’ Fred asked.

  ‘In two weeks. If you need a ride, the general can arrange it,’ Tom said.

  ‘Yes, that would be nice.’ Fred Thurman followed Tom’s gaze towards Ashton and Jesse, then his eyes met Tom’s.

  ‘Well?’ Tom looked at the two farmers, then back at Fred, enquiringly. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

  ‘Oh! Sorry. But I’m being rude now. Tom. This is Jesse and Ashton, my buddies from Crackatinnie. This is Tom. He is quite the joker,’ he added.

  ‘So, what do you guys do?’ Major Tom Fargo asked, shaking Ashton’s hand.

  ‘We’re farmers,’ Ashton said, sizing him up. Tom nodded. That was obvious.

  ‘Farmers—? You mean — ranchers? Now, that is something. So, what do you guys call your ranch? It does have a name?’ Tom noticed the map on the table. ‘Is it marked on the map?’ Tom moved over, surveying the map.

  ‘It’s a farm not a ranch, but anyway, if you head up the peninsula — this way —take this road, and turn right here.’ Ashton drew the route on the map with his finger. ‘Go another thirty clicks, turn left and drive around eight to ten clicks, turn right again and go another three to four clicks.’ He liked this new guy. Tom seemed to have a pleasant and amiable personality.

  ‘Okay. Is this it?’ Major Tom Fargo pointed with his finger. ‘Oh! I’m a pilot, so I’m familiar with reading maps,’ he explained, noting Ashton’s astonished look.

  ‘No. Close though. That’s Gullabilly National Park. It’s right next door.’ Ashton pointed to the place. ‘Just to the south of it, here.’ He pointed.

  ‘What did you say you guys call it?’ Major Tom Fargo asked inquisitively, ‘your ranch, I mean.’

  ‘Our farm doesn’t have a name,’ Jesse responded, ‘yet. Hi, I’m Jesse.’ He reached across. They shook hands warmly and nodded at each other.

  ‘Fred here is an amateur astronomer,’ Tom hinted. ‘What do you suggest Fred?’

  ‘Well, how about Andromeda?’ Fred asked. He looked out the window towards Tom’s EH Holden and then back at Tom.

  ‘Sounds like a bull fight,’ said Ashton. He picked up his coffee and took a sip.

  ‘Well. How about Sirius?’ Major Tom Fargo suggested. ‘It’s the brightest star in the sky. Well, actually it’s two stars: a blue giant and a white dwarf.’

  ‘Sounds like a Melbourne cup sprinter,’ replied Jesse, dismissing it as a viable option. He was referring to the Melbourne Cup horse race held on the first Tuesday of November each year.

  ‘What about Cassiopeia?’ It was Kirin. ‘That’s the name of a Type 1-a supernova that exploded some four hundred years ago in the Cassiopeia constellation. It is called SN 1572 or Tycho's Supernova after Tycho Brahe, who discovered it in 1572. You may have well heard of it before?’ Ashton and Jesse shrugged, clueless. ‘Cassiopeia is the name of the large W-shape line of stars you see in the night sky. It hosts the Pacman and Bubble nebulas—. The Cassiopeia B star is the supernova.’ That drew even more blanks, so Kirin bent over and drew a big ‘W’ on the map with his finger. ‘If Orion’s belt — the Big Dipper to you guys — is over here, and M45, the Pleiades — you call it the Seven Sisters — is here to the north, then, Cassiopeia is right here. The North Star Polaris is somewhere over to the left, over the edge of the table — but you cannot see it from Down Under.’ As he now spoke, the stars came to life floating above the table; for me, anyway.

  ‘Wow! That’s about as clear as mud. You and Fred seem to know lot about astronomy for a couple of Golliwogs,[8] Ashton said, in an impressed voice. This guy seemed to be a pretty clever dude. ‘Cassiopeia, now that’s not half bad.’

  ‘Golliwogs—?’ I repeated, wondering what they meant.

  ‘They look nothing like my Golliwog doll,’ Jo spat out disgustedly, looking up at me from her comic. ‘They don’t even have black curly hair or white eyes,’ she added haughtily. I flashed Jo a broad grin, so she poked her tongue out at me. Chucking a comic down Jo looked expectantly at Teresa who giggled, searching for another book to read for Jo.

  ‘Sounds cool to me,’ I whispered across to Teresa from the top rung of the stairs. Kirin turned, glanced up at us then back at the map on the table. Did he hear us? I quickly looked away, flushing.

  ‘Cassiopeia — a supernova — a star that explodes. Now that sounds rather cool,’ Ashton mused.

  ‘What’s a supanoba?’ Jo asked ‘Is it something to eat?’

  ‘No. It is just a star that exploded,’ I repeated, whispering back at Jo.

  ‘Yes. I like it too. Cassiopeia, it is then,’ Jesse responded, standing up and clasping Kirin on the shoulder. ‘You have excellent taste.’

  Kirin turned and held out his hand.

  ‘Hi, I’m Kirin,’ he said and shook Jesse’s hand warmly.

  ‘Yes, I figured that out already. I’m Jesse. Pleased to meet you,’ was the reply. ‘Please feel free to drop in to the farm to toss a few chops and snags[9] on the BBQ—, anytime. Seriously, I mean it. You know where we live now.’ Jesse smiled, sitting back down. ‘How’s next Sunday?’ It was an invitation to have a few drinks of beer over a barbeque. ‘Anytime in the arvo,[10] and you’re all invited.’

  Kirin smiled back and nodded. ‘Sure thing, Okay then, we will.’ Then, as Jesse began to hungrily gorge down a steak sandwich, Kirin turned to Major Tom Fargo for an introduction.

  ‘Sorry friend. We were never formerly introduced,’ he said to Tom. ‘I’m Kirin.’ He thrust out his hand.

  ‘Hi. I’m Major Tom Fargo — US Air Force. It is great to see you,’ Tom said, touching his lapel. They shook hands, exchanging warm smiles and other pleasantries.

  ‘Look Fred — I have to go now, but if you phone this number—,’ Tom said, flashing a look out the window towards the anxious general waiting by the car, scowling, tapping at his watch. As Tom slid Fred a card with his name on it across the table, he added: ‘You can contact me anytime in the next few weeks. I can even fly down and pick you up at the local airport — provided the runway is long enough. My Woomera Rocket range contact phone number is on the back. Look. I really must go. It’s neither polite, nor good for the career to stand up a two star general.’ He pointed out the window.

  ‘It matches my schedule, so expect my call,’ Fred Thurman nodded. Turning the card over, he read it and then nodded back at Tom.

  ‘Cheers then. Catch you guys later,’ Tom Fargo said turning, then walking towards the counter. Just as Tom moved away, Mother arriv
ed at the table with Fred and Kirin’s order. Making room for the food Fred folded up the map, placing it in his top pocket.

  Just then an immaculately dressed Jesus man wearing an open-necked Hawaiian shirt and pressed white trousers wandered in. After ordering a hotdog and a drink he stood leaning against the counter waiting, tapping his fingers. He slid his dark glasses down his nose, stole a long glance across at the group of men at the table analyzing them in detail. And then Jesus peered up at me, raising his finger in acknowledgement.

  ‘I thought he was a drunk?’ I grunted to Jo and Teresa.

  ‘He is,’ Teresa whispered back, flipping her comic page, ‘a well-dressed one.’

  ‘What’s the latest news Revierra?’ Megan asked the Jesus man.

  ‘Sorry. That’s confidential. You’ll have to buy my local rag to find out,’ he replied with a forced yellow-teethed grin, handing her some money. ‘Nothing is free these days. We all have to eat.’

  Tom Fargo walked over to the counter, his eyes focused on the Jesus man, who was just leaving. He missed little. Then Tom ordered several soft drinks and something to eat, quite a bit actually. He paid for it and left. Just before Tom walked out of the door he stopped. Turning on his heels he nodded back at Fred, holding two fingers in the air, signifying two weeks. Tom then glanced briefly up towards the stairs, smiling at me warmly like one does to an old friend, or a pet dog. He nodded, raising a finger at me in salute, which seemed to mean ‘See you around.’ Tom Fargo appeared to be a truly nice guy. He hurried out the door. It bounced quietly shut behind him.

  ‘Cassiopeia,’ Tom said to himself with a laugh as he strode across the street. ‘I don’t have to guess to know how he came up with that name.’

  I watched Major Tom Fargo cross the road. Then, something weird happened. Rich Dunbar, the gang ringleader who was harassing Kirin earlier, walked over towards him. They stopped on the opposite side of the street having a brief but friendly chat. Rich motioned to the shop with one hand. Nodding, Tom took out his wallet, shook the man’s hand, passing him a wad of money. Taking a quick look towards the shop Tom grinned, slapped Rich on the shoulder and laughed cheekily.