Castaway (7 page)

The air was crisp and clear the next morning. The dry season seemed to have come in with a rush, and the humidity had all but disappeared. It was almost cool enough to pull a blanket up at night. They had a hurried, early breakfast, Tess lingering behind to take some food to Kalila before she joined the rest of them at the yards.

They quietly saddled the horses, everyone excited and slightly nervous at the prospect of the first muster of the season. The horses seemed to sense the tension
too, and shifted on their feet with their heads up expectantly, eyes bright and alert. Finally everyone was ready, and they rode out together behind the bull catchers, the horses striding out comfortably, and the riders looking forward to the job ahead.

They walked in single file up the fence line to the end of the cow and calf paddock, and began moving little family mobs of buffaloes together, Sam and Tess on one side, and George and Darcy on the other, with the two catchers, driven by Uncle Mungo and Old Jock, going to the furthest corners. Jaz went along as a passenger in Old Jock’s vehicle. It was a long, narrow paddock, easy to muster, and it funnelled in towards the gate at the bottom. Gradually they worked across the paddock, pushing more and more animals into groups, slowly and quietly moving them down towards the flood plains. The buffaloes seemed to know just what was happening. They lifted their heads and walked steadily towards the gateway, apparently keen to get out onto the lush green grass of the plains.

The only incident was when Darcy, taking it into his head to hurry things up, cracked his stock whip across the rump of a cranky old cow who had stopped to think about whether she really wanted to go along with everyone else. She turned and charged at him, so he kicked Toby into a gallop to get out of her way.
That startled a dozen others into breaking back where they’d come from. Sam galloped off after them, closely followed by Darcy, while Tess and George steadied the rest down and kept them facing the flood plains.

Sam and Darcy had to work hard to push the breakaways together, and their horses had raised a sweat by the time they rejoined the rest of the mob. Tess and George gave Darcy a hard time, but no one really minded. It was so good to be out on the horses and doing some useful work. It took the whole morning to completely empty the paddock, and by lunchtime they were gathered at the gate, watching with satisfaction as the last little mob scurried through and trotted off to join the rest of the buffaloes now grazing out across their new paddock.

‘Well, there’s a job well done. Good on ya, kids!’ beamed Uncle Mungo as he shut the gate. ‘I didn’t think it’d be so easy. That’ll give us some good news to tell Mac tonight!’

When they arrived back at the house, Sam slipped into the office and rang the barrister’s work number.

‘I’m sorry I hung up on you yesterday,’ said Sam, ‘but we’re really worried about what’ll happen to Kalila. There must be some way to stop her being chucked into prison. She’s only a kid!’

Spiros O’Reilly sighed and said, ‘Look, come in and
see me in my chambers. I can see you at … ten o’clock tomorrow. Can you be here?’

‘Yes, our governess is going to town then. I can get a lift in with her.’

‘Right. And, Sam?’

‘Yeah?’

‘If this is some kind of practical joke, I’ll have your hide for a carpet, okay?’

Sarah was very happy when Sam and George told her about the muster.

‘It’ll make Dad feel so much better, knowing that everything’s being looked after so well, and that all the work’s getting done. You’re all doing a great job!’ She filled them in on Mac’s progress. The surgeons were confident that the operation was successful, but his recovery would be slow. Sam felt a little more positive when they finished the call.

Sam and Darcy drove into town very early with Jaz on Tuesday morning. Sam told Uncle Mungo that he wanted to go to town with Jaz so that he could buy something for his mum and send it to her. Uncle Mungo looked stricken for a few seconds, and went a funny
colour. ‘Do you need any money? I can give you some if you do.’

‘Nope. I’ve got my own money.’

‘Well, all right then.’ Uncle Mungo looked so miserable that for a moment Sam felt sorry for him, but he didn’t say anything. He knew he was being mean to his uncle, but as far as Sam was concerned, if it wasn’t for Uncle Mungo’s stubbornness and bullying manner, his dad wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place.

Jaz dropped Sam and Darcy in the main street.

‘Sure you guys will be all right? I’ll be a couple of hours, and then I’ll meet you back in the mall at twelve thirty at that café over there, okay?’

Sam pulled out the piece of paper on which he’d written the QC’s address. ‘Well, let’s go see him. It’ll be ten o’clock soon.’ They trudged across the road, looking for street numbers, and eventually found Deakin Chambers, a small, old building squashed between two much larger modern ones. Paint was peeling off the front door, and the ‘M’ was missing from the brass letters of its name.

‘Doesn’t look too flash,’ said Darcy. ‘Maybe he’s not much good.’

Sam shrugged, but he didn’t feel very inspired by the shabby appearance of the building either.

They climbed up two flights of stairs and arrived at
a door with a frosted glass panel. The lawyer’s name was painted on the glass, along with a couple of others. Sam pushed the door open, and a young woman seated at the reception desk glanced up at him from her computer.

‘Hello. Can I help you?’

Sam blushed, suddenly feeling right out of his depth. ‘Um, we’re here to … we’ve got an appointment to see Mr O’Reilly.’

She checked a diary and said, ‘Sam McAllister for ten o’clock?’

Sam nodded.

‘Take a seat. He’s got someone with him at the moment.’ She smiled at them, and asked if they’d like a cup of tea or coffee.

‘Ah, thanks, but no, we’re right, thanks …’

Sam and Darcy sat down and waited for Spiros O’Reilly, QC. Darcy picked up a magazine and began leafing through it, but Sam was too nervous.

Five minutes later a door opened and a man came out holding a mobile phone to his ear. He pulled the door partly closed behind him and stood there, speaking into the phone urgently, his voice low. He was speaking a foreign language and Sam didn’t pay much attention, until he heard, repeated very clearly, ‘Hasheem Tariq. Hasheem Tariq.’

Sam looked up at him. He was a handsome young man, probably about thirty, with straight dark hair combed back from his face, a tiny gold stud in one ear lobe and smooth tanned skin. He was wearing a white shirt and dark grey trousers, and had a fine gold chain around his neck. He was concentrating intently and didn’t notice Sam staring at him. He ended the conversation and went back inside the office, closing the door behind him.

Sam and Darcy looked at each other, and Darcy whispered, ‘Wasn’t that Kalila’s dad’s name? Hasheem Tariq?’

Sam nodded and was about to answer when the same door opened again, and a different man came out. He looked around the waiting room, spotted Sam and Darcy, and said, ‘Ah, Mr McAllister, I presume? Come in. I’m Spiros O’Reilly.’

Spiros O’Reilly QC was short and muscular, with a neck like a rugby player. He had a scruffy goatee beard and short dark hair that looked like he didn’t remember to brush it very often. He had humorous, dark brown eyes, and a mouth that was made for laughing. Sam liked him straight away.

Spiros O’Reilly seemed very harassed, though. He ushered Sam and Darcy into the room and sat them down in front of a large, messy desk. The man with the
mobile phone sat off to one side in an armchair.

‘So, Sam. And this is …?’

‘My cousin Darcy. He’s staying out at the station with us at the moment.’

‘Right,’ said Spiros. He indicated the man sitting in the armchair. ‘This is Mr Mahsoud. He represents the Afghanistan government, and he’s helping us interview the recent illegal arrivals. I thought it might be useful to have him here now.’ Mr Mahsoud smiled at them broadly, and shook hands with each of them.

‘Hamid Mahsoud. Pleased to meet you.’ He had a very white smile.

Spiros O’Reilly shuffled some paper around on his desk, found a blank pad, and picked up a pen. ‘Okay, Sam, tell us the story from the beginning.’

Sam started with the storm. He told Spiros how he and George had gone down to Deception Point to have their lunch, and how they found a child on the beach. When Sam described chasing the crocodile away with a rock, Spiros O’Reilly whistled.

‘Not bad! Lucky for the kid you came along! You get a lot of crocs out there?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sam. ‘This bloke’s really mean. My dad’s seen him around for years.’

He went on with the story: ‘It wasn’t until my cousin Tess – Darcy’s sister – met her that we found out she was
a girl, and that she could speak a little bit of English.’

‘Right,’ nodded Spiros O’Reilly, ‘and did she tell you her name?’

‘It’s Kalila.’

At the mention of her name, Hamid Mahsoud shifted slightly.

‘You said on the phone that you thought she was from Afghanistan?’

Sam nodded. ‘She told us she was from Afghanistan, but that she and her parents had spent some time in Pakistan in a refugee camp. Then they went to Indonesia, and came here by boat.’

‘And did you see this girl too, Darcy?’

Darcy looked a bit surprised at being asked a question, but he was pleased to be included in the meeting. He leapt in, frowning seriously and puffing out his chest a bit.

‘Yeah, I’ve been there with her and the others since Tess and I went out to Brumby Plains. She doesn’t know much English, but we’ve been able to work out what she’s saying.’

‘Excuse me, Mr O’Reilly, but may I ask a question?’ Mr Mahsoud leaned forward in his chair. ‘Was there a boat, or any other things washed ashore with this girl?’

The back of Sam’s neck prickled. ‘Just the wreckage of the boat on the reef, that’s all. It was pretty smashed up.’

Darcy opened his mouth to say something but Sam trod carefully on his toe, hard, and Darcy shut his mouth again.

Mr Mahsoud nodded, looking thoughtful and concerned. ‘Has this girl told you any other names? Her parents, or some of the other people she was travelling with, perhaps?’

‘No,’ said Sam. ‘Her – her English isn’t very good. She couldn’t tell us much.’ Darcy fidgeted beside him, and Sam trod on his toe again.

Spiros O’Reilly scanned the notes he’d made and looked up at Sam. ‘Two boat loads of people landed here last week. We had heard that four or five boats left Indonesia, but it looks like only two made it to Australia, unless the others landed along the coast and haven’t been spotted yet.’

Darcy jabbed Sam in the ribs with his elbow, and spoke up: ‘Kalila said there were four boats, but that some bad guys shot at them and her boat sank, and she was picked up out of the water by one of the other boats.’ He sat back, looking important. Sam kicked him hard on the ankle.

Hamid Mahsoud sat up very straight and stared at Sam. He said to Spiros, ‘We must bring this child in immediately. She may have information about the refugees that could help us with their Immigration case.’

Spiros nodded, and looked at Sam. ‘Well, I have to say I believe you, Sam. Your story fits with what’s been happening. We knew there were some other boats with this group, but no one knew what had happened to them. We’ll need to bring the child in to Darwin immediately and have her processed.’

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Spiros said, ‘Sam, I understand your concerns about what will happen to Kalila, but we have to follow the rules. You’ve done really well looking after this little girl, and I know you want to protect her. But, we have to hand her over to the authorities, and then we can make sure she finds her parents, and make some decisions about what happens to her. At the moment you’re breaking about a dozen laws of the country – harbouring an illegal alien, quarantine issues, health issues, you name it. We have to follow the law.’

‘Well the law’s wrong then! We should go to the newspapers and tell them about it, and tell people what happens to little kids –’

‘No! No newspapers! No press! We do not want this to be a problem in the newspapers.’ Mr Mahsoud sat forward in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests. ‘Afghanis do not want a bad name in this country. We will just take our people home again.’

Sam thought that Spiros O’Reilly looked annoyed
by Mahsoud’s outburst, but the barrister just turned to Sam again and said, ‘It’s in Kalila’s best interests that she is cared for and steps are taken to sort out her status. I’m afraid I have no choice but to do it this way. You have to trust me, mate.’

He scribbled a few more notes on his pad, pulled a telephone over to him and dialled a number. While Spiros explained to someone on the other end about Kalila, Sam sat on his seat like a stone, the bottom having fallen completely out of his stomach. As soon as Spiros had finished the call, Mr Mahsoud stood up and excused himself, saying that he would call Spiros later. He nodded goodbye to Sam and Darcy, and left the room.

Spiros fished out a business card from his drawer. ‘Here are my contact details, Sam. As soon as the child is in custody, we’ll get to work on acting for her, and make sure she gets the best possible help. The Customs and Immigration people can’t get out there until tomorrow morning – they’re bringing in some Indonesian fishing boats right now.’ He glanced at his notepad again. ‘Brumby Plains … that’s a fair way from town, isn’t it?’

A little while later Sam and Darcy were out on the street.

‘What did you have to step on my toes for all the time?’ complained Darcy. ‘I was only trying to help. I thought you’d forgotten stuff.’

‘No, you idiot. Didn’t you notice that Mahsoud bloke? There’s something really suss about him, seriously. He was saying her father’s name on the phone, and he practically jumped out of his chair when you blabbed about what happened to her boat.’

‘Well he’s on her side, so what’s the big deal? I thought we were supposed to tell them everything we know.’ He glared at Sam. ‘You always think everyone’s suss! Who do you think you are, some kind of detective or something?’