Chapter 41

Soon we were on our way home.

It was a larger plane. We'd arrived on a Beechcraft five-seater. This was a Piper Chieftan. We were two of the passengers; our "friend," Alf was there, too. He had tape on his left cheek and his left arm was in a sling. There were four others in the six remaining seats: two of them occupied by a bloke with a plaster cast from ankle to hip.

"This is the bloke who warned me," Alf announced. Two of the others mumbled. The bloke in the cast looked dead to the world. One of the others appeared asleep. "We're all on pain-killers of varying potency," Alf continued.

You'll have to tell us about it," Rachel said.

"Everyone buckled in?" the co-pilot asked. "One minute."

Despite the full load, we got off easily. "It'll take nearly four hours. We don't want to make things bumpy. They've said there'll be three ambulances. I'm not sure which hospitals you're going to, but you'll be well-cared-for."

"How are your two execs?" I asked Alf.

"Dead. Both the dumb bastards. I told them we needed to survey the area in greater detail before diggin'. But they ordered a dozen crew in right away. These blokes were at the tail. The two ijjits are roastin' in hell and the others were under some tons of rock. I was at the tail. A chip caught me here [he gestured at his cheek] and a bleedin' rock got me arm as I was tuggin' Jaimie there out."

"Broken?"

"Yep. Radius and ulna. Six to eight weeks."

"Tough."

"Dead 'ud be worse."

"I presume the companies will shell out the dosh?"

"They'd better. I'll tell that I warned against goin' in, if I'm asked."

Xstrata runs the Mount Isa Mines lease, which comprises the "Enterprise" underground copper mine, X41 underground copper mine, "Black Star Open Cut" silver-lead zinc mine, and metallurgical processing facilities. Silver-lead-zinc ore is also mined 20 km to the north at Hilton from the "George Fisher" underground mine, and the adjoining "Handlebar Hill" open cut, which is trucked back to Mount Isa for processing. There hasn't been a fatal accident at "George Fisher" since May 2009. [<http://www.miningaustralia.com.au/news/death-at-mt-isa-mine>]

We chatted a bit with Alf and eyed the others, who were clearly in distress. The co-pilot came back and told us that we'd be setting down at Bankstown: "Three of you are going to Liverpool and two to Sydney Southwest. Two ambulances will be meeting us from Liverpool and one from Southwest. You [pointing at Alf] and whoever's most intact go to Southwest; the most injured to Liverpool." He looked at us. "I've no instructions about you."

"We'll be okay. It's a half-hour by cab."

"Right."

We touched down just about 1800 and were ushered off the plane quite briskly – they didn't want us in the way. Rachel gave Alf our numbers and told him to ring us. We located a driver outside the terminal and were actually home by 1900. We were both wrung out, so we washed up, opened all the windows, and went around the corner for pizza.

We slept late, but my mobile went off at nine.

"Good morning, Patrick. This is your paternal alarm clock."

"Hey. We had an adventure. How are you?"

"Fine. What kind of an adventure?"

"Long story. We're both okay. Why this call?"

"I've got to be in Sydney around the end of next week. Are you blokes free?"

"I've got lectures and Rachel has to be at the Art Gallery, but nothing special."

"Good. I'll call tonight or tomorrow and give you the heads up."

"Fine. Jacky and Alice said to say hello to both of you."

"Right. You'll have details, of course?"

"Certainly. Talk to you later."

"What was that?"

"My dad. He'll be here next week. He'll give us the details tonight."

"Good. I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll make coffee."

I saw we had zero food, set up the coffee pot, put on shorts and a shirt, stepped into sandals, and had a cup. Then I went out and bought bread, some sticky buns, butter, orange juice, and milk. I was home and eating a bun with strawberry jam and drinking another cup when Rachel got up.

"Coffee and a sticky bun?" I asked.

"Now I know why I married you!"

"I thought it was for my boyish charm."

"That, too."

The mobile went off.

"Hello."

"Pat, this is Alf."

"How are you?"

"Better than I was. But I'm not in Southwest. They transferred me to Sydney Private Hospital. I'm in a rehabilitation unit. The medic I just saw said they'll keep me for about 10 days and then I should be seen a coupla times a week."

"Can we visit?"

"No problem."

"Okay. We'll come over the weekend. Think about what you might want to read or nibble and let us know by noon tomorrow."

"Will do. Kiss Rachel for me."

"You're too old for her."

"When yer too old, yer dead," Alf laughed and hung up.

"They've put Alf in a rehab hospital. We'll go visit on Sunday, okay?"

"Sure."

We did laundry and a real food restock. We'd had four days of quadruped, so we went out for sushi. We were back home when my dad called.

"I'm flying in Wednesday and out on Sunday. I need to be at the Museum on Thursday and Friday. It looks as though I'm free on Friday night, but I'm not certain. I'm free all day on Saturday."

"Sounds good. If you're free Friday evening we'll see you, otherwise all day Saturday."

"Right. I'm not sure where I'll be staying. Somewhere near the Museum and the Gallery. I'd say the Marriott, but I know it's been sold. I'm going to phone Winnie."

"Aren't you a bit past that?"

"No more than you're past a spanking!"

"Oooh! Brutality!"

"Bet on it." We both laughed.

I relayed the information to Rachel.

"Still no reason as to why."

"No. He'll tell us when he wants to."

On Sunday we visited Alf. He was up and full of ginger.

"I'm getting' out o' here," he said. "Back to my flat. I've got a sister comin' in twice a week an' I've gotta check in here. But I'll be free."

"Where's your flat?" Rachel asked.