Chapter 3

Jos and Zeke drove a bit further towards the Yardungarl Community from Lake Argyle Road on their return.

“We think it can be done,” Jos reported. “Zeke thinks someone he knows in Wyndham can supply what’s needed.”

“We’ll need some dosh an’ a slab o’ tallies,” said Zeke. “Mebbe two slabs.” [A slab is a carton of 24 bottles or cans; a tallie is a 750 ml bottle (about 25 fl. oz. or .8 of a quart).]

“No moolah?”

“Nah. If we bring a bag o’ maccas [McDonald’s], he won’t want any razoos.”

“So, under a hundred?”

“London to a brick!” [certainly]

“Is there a McD place around here?”

“Nah. Any burger’ll do. We’ll get a sackful at the Kimberley Cafe. He won’t care.”

“We have money. We rarely use it. Only for tea and flour. Sometimes sugar.”

“OK. Zeke, d’ya know where George dosses?”

“Inna Joorook Ngarri. After yiz pass the airport.”

“Fine.” Jos turned to the elder. “We’ll need over $100 as we’ll need to fill up.”

“As you wish.” He produced a bundle of twenties from a tucker bag and handed some to Jos. “Go!”

They made the loop off the Victoria Highway to fuel up at the IOR, then Zeke drove to the Kimberley where they bought a half-dozen burgers, to Coles for two slabs of beer, and then back onto the highway. Less than an hour later, they were nearing the Wyndham airfield and a few minutes later there was a track off to the left. Two men were sitting on stones, watching traffic.

“Ask the wankers,” Zeke said.

“You blokes know Ol’ George?”

“Not here.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Warraya Community. Nearer hospital.”

“Jus’ a bit up the road?”

“Yep. On other side.”

“Ta.”

Zeke reversed, pulled a yewie and got back on the highway. He pulled to the right across traffic and into Kangaroo Drive. There were a few houses and a track. They parked the ute and got out.

A voice called: “You blokes lost? This ain’t the hospital.”

“Dayee. We’re lookin’ fer ol’ George.”

“Oh. He’s gotta shack ‘bout halfway to the creek.”

“Right-o.”

With Jos carrying the food, they walked up a path a bit west of north and soon saw a ramshackle board and tin shack. A shaggy older man was sitting on a broken-down chair in a patch of sun.

“Coee,” called Zeke.

“Who’s zat?” came back.

“Yo’ ol’ fren Zeke an’ his cobber. Brung some grub.”

“Whatcha got?”

“Burgers.”

“Ain’t got nuttin’ but Adam’s ale, boys.”

“We got a pair o’ slabs to trade.”

“Lemme see whatcha got an’ tell me whatcha want.”

“This is Jos, a real good bloke. Jos, go bring them slabs.”

When Jos returned, a slab under each arm, George and Zeke were munching away. Zeke must have fetched two chairs, as they were sitting and there was a third waiting. No two matched. From the wrappings, it looked as though George was already on his second hamburger.

“Well, put ‘em down, boy, an’ open one up.” Jos handed George a longneck, gave one to Zeke and took one himself. They each took a pull.

“OK, boys. I’m blotto a lot o’ the time. But I ain’t no duffer. You come to ol’ George with tucker an’ long necks an’ you want sumpin’ back. Tell me.”

Zeke took a deep breath. “OK. Jos got asked about doin’ a job. North an’ east o’ here. He asked me.”

“Job?”

“Gettin’ rid of some rock.”

“Aha!” George took a third wrapped burger and looked at the slab. Jos handed him another longneck. “A bank job?”

“No.”

“Anyone gettin’ kilt?”

“I sure hope not,” Jos said.

“In the Territory?”

“No. I think it’s here in the West.”

“Tucker an’ two slabs?”

“I thought you’d found some pails and detonators,” Zeke said.

“No pails. Carryin’ cases of C-4; 16 blocks to a case. Swap two cases.”

“Detonators?”

“Don’ need ‘em, four primin’ assemblies packaged inside each. You know how to handle that stuff?” They both nodded. “OK, deal. Fact, I’ll toss in two detonators. Lemme finish this nobbler an’ see where theys at.”

Less than an hour later Zeke and Jos had stowed two ‘military Carrying Case M85’ each with a ‘twenty-foot length of detonating cord assembled with detonating cord clips and capped at each end with a booster’ into the ute. Jos had looked at the package of one of the detonating cords and that it was marked ‘two hundred and forty seconds’ and had an arrow pointed at the small red knob that had to be pulled out to arm.

“I don’t mind drivin’ with 20 kilos of C-4,” Jos said. “It’s real safe without the detonator.”

“How should we set it up?”

“I see two choices. We could put one at each sluice gate on the lake side, or put them together at the bottom on the dry riverbed side.”

“Twenny foot’s only six metres. Not much of a start.”