Chapter 2

I really didn't understand what was going on. I was sure that Watkins had something in mind, but I had no notion what it was. When I got home, I found him on the CSIRO internal site. He was a "Sr. Scientist" at Wembley. Not much. I got myself a beer and sat down. After a while, I heard Weena's car in the drive.

"Hi, sweet."

"Hey."

"Bad day?"

"OK till after lunch."

"And..."

"Some chap in Wembley's angry with me."

She sat on the arm on my chair and picked up my tin. "And driving you to drink?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me."

"I got in after lunch and there was a pink slip to phone a CSIRO number in Wembley. So I did and some guy began yelling about my stealing his stuff and who the hell was I. I tried to tell him that I'd no notion of what he was talking about, but failed. Then I called Janice in Canberra. She told me that he was a well-known blowhard. Then I came home."

"So why does it bother you so much?"

"I dunno. I try not to get into arguments. I still don't know what this bloke was getting at."

"Well, calm down. Try calling his boss. With no information, there's no reason to get excited."

"Right." I took a deep breath. "every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, / Wherein it finds a joy above the rest. And I've you." I squeezed her hand. "Now, out of the uniform. What's for dinner?"

"I don't know. Look in the fridge, then in the freezer."

"Yes, dear."

"You're still moody."

"Mmmm."

"Well, call the boss in Wembley in the morning."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Tell him what's up and ask whether you and he could meet ... lunch maybe ... offsite."

"Mmmm."

"If you meet at the Wembley site you might run into whatshisname."

"Right."

"There must be a respectable place either nearer the coast or on the river."

I sighed. "You make it sound easy. I'm still bothered that this bloke's so pissed with me."

"Have another glass of wine and we'll go upstairs. Bet I can make you forget all about him."

"Right."

Weena was right. I felt far better in the morning. I got to my office around nine and spent ten minutes trying to find the name and number Janice had given me. Then I waited till half-past before calling. I introduced myself.

"Ah! You're the chap who's going to try to get this state to move into the twenty-first century."

I laughed. "Not quite. Maybe entomology at the Uni."

He laughed. "Kay. Anyway, I'm in water management. But what can I do today?"

"Well, I had a rather unpleasant call yesterday from a bloke called Watkins. [big sigh on the other end]

I'm not certain what he was accusing me of, but he sounded both angry and aggressive. My boss's admin in Canberra said he was a known blowhard, but..."

"Oh, God. Is this an official call?"

"No. For me it's informational. Look can I take you to lunch? We ought to meet anyway, and we should be on neutral ground."

He laughed. "Government funds?"

"I guess so."

"Let's meet at noon at the Matilda Bay in Crawley. You'll love it. It overlooks the Swan on Hackett Drive. I'm wearing a blue shirt."

"Mine's sort of red plaid. I'm youngish."

"So'm I. See you at noon."

"Till then."

"Bye."

Well that seemed easy. I found my map of Perth. Hackett Drive looked like five minutes from the office. And it wasn't even ten yet. I went down to the lab, but none of the students had gotten there yet. I wouldn't have been awake yet eight or so years ago either. I went to the office a picked my mail and more phone slips out of my pigeonhole. There was a letter from the Bishop Museum, forwarded from Canberra — they wanted to know whether I wanted to continue receiving the Bulletins in Entomology. That was a no-brainer, but I'd best send them a change of address.

I took the elevator back upstairs. Most of the "While You Were Out" slips went into the trash. But there was one from "Des Osborne." Plenty of time. I called him.

"'Lo."

"Des Osborne?"

"Yep."

"I'm Gordy Hollister. I gave my card to two students for you."

"Oh. Yes. Yes, sir!"

"Would you have time to see me today — this afternoon?"

"Sure. I'm an out-of-work loafer."

"Well ... I might be able to fix out-of-work, but you'll need a good vocational psychologist to help with your being a loafer." He laughed. "Anyway, I'm on the third floor in one of the corners. Would 15:00 be OK?"

"Yes, sir."

"And bring some of your work, right? Term papers?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good. See you then."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Well, that was that. And it still wasn't 11. Oh well. I went back downstairs, was greeted by silence and went on to the office.

"I'm off to meet with a bloke from CSIRO Wembley. I should be back well before three."

"'Kay."

I went out to the LandRover, realizing I should have brought a book. I looked in the rear and there was still a box there. I walked around, opened the rear door and lifted the flaps on the box. Right on top was Darwin's 'Beagle' Journal. Ah! Exploration of Australia. Cook's Journal, Flinder's Voyage, Banks' Journal, Vancouver's Voyage. Treasures. There was a smaller book, too. Mudie on John McDouall Stuart. A good one! I took it up to the front seat, got in and started the engine. It took under ten minutes to get to the Mathilda Bay. I parked in the nearly empty lot, took Mudie and got out. There was a bench near the front. I sat down to read.

I went right to the fourth expedition of 1860, the one where Stuart and his team found Oonadatta and went on north to name the Finke. I stopped there and was daydreaming about Charlie and Maddy when a voice roused me with "You must be Gordy."

"Right-o. And you're Charles."

"Charlie. It's Charles Sturt Eyre. My dad's a professor of history."

"Interesting. I was just reading about Stuart's fourth trek."

"You're interested in history?"

"Well. Inland Australia at least. But we've friends with stations along the Finke. He's Charlie, too."

"Really. Well, let's get in before all the tables disappear."

When we'd sat down and looked at menus, I said: "Tell me about Watkins."

He sighed. "He's a pain. About 15 or 20 years older than us. Does water analyses and sometimes identifies pests. Like seeing like." He smiled. "I don't know why he'd get after you. You're new, aren't you?"

"Sure am. It's not even three months since my chief asked whether I'd move here."

"Why did you?"

"My wife, who was then my fiancee, lived in Laverton and went to school here in Perth. She really liked the idea of coming 'back' here."

"So what are you supposed to be doing?"