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Cull. Stafford Ray
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Two men rolled the unconscious husband off the fallen jewellery and collected it, adding it to the contents of the plastic bag.
Loi noted that the ring stayed in the officer’s pocket as he moved to the woman’s side, first holding her from falling, then easing her to the deck beside her husband.
Nobody spoke. They were completely at the mercy of the customs men and could only watch as they lifted saris, ripping off anklets and checking for necklaces that might be hidden under long hair. Then as quickly as they they’d come, they were gone.
The captain sprang for the medical kit and looked around for help.
Loi took it and began work on the woman, blood still pumping from her finger. He tied it off as the old diesel motor coughed to life and they were again underway.
He found a phial of morphine and injected it into her arm, then turned her husband onto his back, feeling his throat, searching for a pulse. It was only just there, but very fast. Fibrillation, he diagnosed and thumped his chest, then listened, ear against his shirt. He nodded his satisfaction and returned to the wife, searching through the supplies for needle and surgical thread.
The gunboat was still running parallel and he tensed for the machine gun burst that must come. ‘They’ll smash holes through the waterline and send us to the bottom,’ he thought, ‘and we’re not yet halfway!’
“How is she?” The captain had returned from the wheelhouse.
“She’ll be OK,” Loi answered. “It’s him I’m worried about.”
He rose and pulled the captain away. “Could be a broken neck. It might be kinder if he doesn’t wake up.”
He looked back towards the wife, being comforted by Lin Poi.
“I don’t like his chances.”
He moved back to the woman, sloshed some methylated spirit over the stump and began to sew. It was a small finger and skin soon came together to seal the wound.
He was no longer aware of the gunboat and turned his attention to the woman’s ears. He inserted just one stitch each side. Bleeding had already stopped.
When he looked again, the gunboat had peeled away to pursue another victim.
16. CSIRO
The cab paid off , he was about to approach the desk when serendipity intervened, with the appearance of a little guy walking towards him. Thin grey hair hung over his forehead almost to the bridge of a large nose that supported a pair of thick lenses. He was staring at Harry apparently attempting to bring him into focus.
‘Shit!’ he thought, ‘I know the guy from Vietnam. Engineer… That’s right, he worked on my Huey. What’s his name? Andy, Andy Spanner we called him. That’s right, Andrew Speight.”
“Hello Harry!” Speight called, hand outstretched to be shaken. “What the hell are you doing here? Long time no see!”
“Andy Spanner!” He laughed, taking his hand. “Good to see you too, Andy. I’m with the embassy. I thought I’d take a look at where our American dollars are going,” he laughed. “Not that we seem to care most of the time!”
“Any project in particular?”
“Well, I am interested in how the geosequestration research is going. Who’s doing that?”
Speight appeared surprised, then smiled conspiratorially. “Official?”
Harry returned the smile openly. He had a lot to thank Andy for, keeping him alive in Vietnam.
“Strictly unofficial, Andy; just personal interest.”
Speight’s smile disappeared and he became sceptical. “How unofficial?”
Harry laughed. “Absolutely unofficial. Just filling in time. I’m a tourist today. Why, is there a problem?”
Andy began laughing. He quickly checked himself, but laughed again. “What am I laughing at?” he chuckled. “It’s a joke but it’s no laughing matter.”
“Why? What do you know about it?”
Speight’s look told him he was suspicious of his motives. “You really don’t know what I do here?”
Harry could not believe his luck. “So you’re involved in the project!”
“A lot more than is comfortable, I’m afraid. Yes, I’m involved in the project.”
“Isn’t it working?”
“Well, yes, it’s working to a point, a very low point, so I say, ‘What’s the point?’”
Harry laughed. He really liked this little Aussie and recalled the black humour that masked a very smart and caring human being. “What isn’t working?”
He answered so softly that Harry had to lean closer to hear. “Leaks. We’ve got leaks. Well, we always expected leaks, but that’s not my problem. My problem is the bloody corruption. Political interference is corrupting the process. I’ve had just about enough.” He smiled wryly. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to hear my gripes.”
“On the contrary, I always doubted it could ever match the hype,” said Harry. “So I’m not surprised. Look, what say I take you to lunch and you can bring me up to speed? If it’s bad news we might as well have it with pleasure. And I’m sure it’s not all bad.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, mate,” he growled. “There’s a long way to go yet. It’s no magic fix. There are not enough sites and not enough space. I guess you know that anyway. You’re a scientist.”
“Me?” Harry laughed. “I’m no scientist. I thought calculus was the gunk dentists scrape off teeth!”
Andy laughed as Harry continued, “My degree’s in Political Science. What I know about this can be written on the head of a pin. Doesn’t the coal come up and the carbon dioxide go down?”
“Are you buying lunch?” Andy laughed. He took Harry by the arm and guided him from the foyer down a corridor. “We can use the cafeteria in Discovery. Synergy Café; acceptable food, decent wine.”
He steered Harry towards a double doorway, allowing him to enter first. Joining Andy in the queue, Harry took a tray and perused the offerings. He chose beef roast with baked vegetables, and yes, he would like gravy on his meat and on his ‘veggies’. Andy also chose roast and vegetables, so their passage through to the cashier took only a minute. Harry had not yet changed his US dollars, so he offered an American fifty.
Allowing herself the slightest of glances to see who had passed the foreign currency, she deftly made change in multi-coloured Australian notes and coins.
Harry was impressed and turned his approving expression to Andy, who laughed, while placing plates, cutlery and rolls on the one tray.
“We’re used to absent-minded Americans here.” He pointed to the bar. “Get a bottle while I grab a table.”
The room was filling quickly. Andy did not wait for an answer and hurried towards his target, a table for two by the atrium window with a view over the garden.
Harry was soon back with an ice bucket. “I hope this is OK,” he said, offering the label. “Traminer. It was recommended.”
“Yes, indeed!” exclaimed Andy, clearly delighted at the choice of wine. Too expensive for him to have chosen for himself. “Very nice.”
He took the bottle and poured two generous glasses, tasting his before picking up his cutlery. “Get stuck in and I’ll begin,” he said, spearing a generous portion of beef with his fork, cutting it off and immediately transferring it to his mouth.
“You’re familiar with the periodic table, of course.” Andy was barely understandable