Chapter 9

Mitchell’s Creek, Sunny Corner, New South Wales, Australia:9

We were stopped and checked twice more on the return trip. The third time, just outside Bathurst, I flashed my passport and we were waved through. We stopped anyway.

“What’s so all-fired important that there’s armed roadblocks near the Gold Fields ... you guys are the third bunch,” I asked.

The camo dressed stern-faced young man wore a sandy-colored beret with a metal, gold and silver badge, depicting the sword Excalibur, with flames issuing upwards from below the hilt, with a scroll across the front of blade inscribed with the regimental motto “Who Dares Wins”, on a black shield pinned to the beret.

“It’s a routine drill, Sir,” He said.

Looking him in the eye, I said, “They don’t pull the Special Air Service away from Perth, fly them across the continent in a few hours, for a drill in New South Wales. What’s up?”

“I couldn’t say, Sir. Move along.”

Jim moved along. In the side mirror, I could see the soldier speaking to a collar microphone.

So ... late the next day ... after we had unloaded the truck and outsourced the gold ... the sandy-colored berets came calling. A bird colonel no less.

Jim was grinning. “Flying Saucers ... UFO’s?” Jim grinned again. “Colonel ... you’re not going to tell me they’re real ... not after the military has been steeped in ridicule and denial.”

“De Nile is a river in Africa,” said the colonel. “David?”

I looked up.

“You know more about the subject than anyone here.”

“Denial?” I grinned.

“Flying Saucers and anti-gravity,” He said.

“You might very well think that; I couldn’t possibly comment,” I said.

“Ah,” sighed the Colonel. “Ian Richardson in the role of the Tory chief whip, complete with asides to camera. He was based on Richard III, you know. The role won Richardson a BAFTA award. The line “You might think that; I couldn’t possibly comment” passed into common usage. Been used by multitudes of hack authors.

“Come, come, Sir. The SAS knows all,” Laughed the Colonel.

“Nice try, Sir. I won’t bite,” I was a trifle miffed. “Torture might get it out of me ... but you wouldn’t like what came after. Let’s just say I can’t comment.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes and the SAS left.

“No, Jim.”

He looked hurt,

“Okay. ‘nother question: What do we do with two hundred seventy kilos of gold?”

“You sell it.”

“You know I prospect as a hobby,” Jim said. “Selling it takes all the fun out of it.

“You take it,” he said as the lightbulb went off.

“I don’t need or want it,” I threw up both hands to ward off evil. “It’s in your garage ... it’s yours.

“Possession is nine tenths of law,” I grinned.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Ask Abbie,” I said.

“What?”

“She’s poor. She might know some place for it,” I suggested.

So ... we went to my house.

“WHAT!?”