Maralinga (45 page)

‘How shocking,' Elizabeth said. ‘How truly shocking.'

‘The deaths were shocking, yes,' he agreed. ‘The fact that we kept the matter a secret, however, was essential. For security reasons no other course of action could possibly have been taken.'

Nick felt restless. He contemplated another Scotch, decided against it, and sat drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Elizabeth barely noticed his restlessness. She was too distracted.

‘But how could such a thing have happened? Reports were issued stating the local Aboriginal people had been removed from the area,' she said.

‘That's a load of bullshit. The situation's impossible to police so they ignore it. There might well be other bodies lying out there undiscovered, who knows?'

He wanted to shock her. He felt like being brutal. He was irritated and edgy. Didn't she realise the magnitude of what he'd just done? But his shock
tactics didn't work. Elizabeth had moved on from shock as her mind busily added up the facts.

‘Pete Mitchell was the government-appointed Aboriginal liaison officer,' she said, ‘and Danny wrote that he was a “tormented man”. Was this why?'

‘It was certainly one of the reasons.'

Nick resigned himself to the fact that she was too busy playing detective to encompass anything else, so he poured himself another Scotch and downed a quick belt before continuing.

‘Pete was deeply distressed about the lack of consideration given to the Aboriginal people's predicament. A number of the patrol officers were too. They still are.'

‘Understandably so.' She paused before asking the question uppermost in her mind. ‘Do you think this terrible incident of the family's irradiation has any direct bearing on Danny's death, Nick?'

‘No, I don't. But you said yourself, it's a starting point, remember?' She nodded. ‘Well, I agree with you there.' He looked down at the letter still open on the table. ‘It all started that drunken night when Pete told Dan about the Aboriginal deaths and the threat of court martial. Pete's subsequent murder led Dan on a trail of investigation, and that's where we have to start ourselves. Who did he speak to? What wheels did he set in motion?'

Elizabeth studied him shrewdly. ‘You no longer believe this is a case of human error, do you?'

‘I didn't say that.' Nick was wary. The letter had certainly given him a fresh perspective, but he wasn't at all sure what he believed and he wasn't about to encourage any fanciful notions on Elizabeth's part.
‘I just said that we should start our investigation where Dan did. And that means the fettlers. I'll pay a visit to Watson tomorrow.'

‘Do you think they'll be willing to help? They sound like a pretty tough bunch to me.'

‘They'll do anything if the price is right. Do you have any spare cash lying around?'

‘About twenty pounds, but I can get more out of the bank tomorrow.'

‘No, that'll be fine. We'll pool our resources – fifty quid should do it.'

She jumped to her feet and crossed to the dresser where she took a pile of notes from the top drawer.

‘Clever,' he said. ‘No burglar would think to look there.'

She ignored the comment, thrusting the notes at him. ‘And we need to find out who was the last person to see Danny alive, Nick.' Elizabeth was excited now. With Nick's help she was finally making progress. ‘If you could discover who it was, and the circumstances under which they –'

‘Oh, I know all that.'

‘What?' She came to an immediate halt.

‘Everyone at Maralinga knows that.'

Very quietly, she sat. ‘Who was it? Tell me. Tell me everything.'

‘A bloke by the name of Gideon Melbray was the last person to see Dan alive. Gideon's the senior requisitions officer with the British Department of Supply, and he and Dan worked together quite a lot. They were probably good mates, I really wouldn't know, but on the night of Dan's death Gideon called around to his barracks and discovered him crying drunk. Dan
was evidently carrying on about a plot to kill Pete Mitchell and making no sense at all –'

‘But Danny didn't drink,' Elizabeth intervened sharply. ‘Apart from the occasional beer, that is. I never once saw him drunk.'

She was suspicious already, Nick could tell, but then she was so keen to hold someone responsible he supposed it was only natural.

‘Yes, so Gideon said. He was surprised himself. It was out of character, he said, Dan wasn't a big drinker.'

‘So what happened? What did Gideon do?'

‘He told him to go to bed and sleep it off. What else could he do?'

‘What else indeed?' Elizabeth's tone was arch.

‘Gideon was apparently horrified the next morning when Dan was discovered dead. He said he'd had no idea that –'

‘So this Gideon Melbray was the sole witness to Danny's anguished mental state!' Elizabeth was unable to contain herself any longer. ‘Isn't that just a little too pat?'

‘Take it easy, Elizabeth, take it easy.' Nick once again held up his hand in a bid to halt her. ‘Of course there would have been reports other than Gideon's – the police made a thorough investigation – but Gideon's story was the one that got around the base at the time. He was the last person to see Dan alive, he's the sort of bloke who chats to all and sundry, and naturally his story became the talk of Maralinga –'

‘I'll just bet it did!'

‘Which, let's face it, is perfectly normal under the circumstances!' In his exasperation, Nick raised his
voice, overriding her interruption and finally shutting her up. He gave her a second or so to calm down. ‘I'll check out the other reports with the military police, I can promise you. Rest assured, Elizabeth, I won't let you down.'

‘I'm sorry,' she said sheepishly. ‘I got carried away.'

‘Yes, you did. And what's the point? There's no sense in that, no sense at all – it's not productive.' He gave the table a decisive smack with his hand. ‘Right, so we now have a plan. I check out the fettlers and call on a couple of MP mates. I'll let you know what I come up with next week.'

He stood, swiftly draining his glass. ‘I'll only get one more trip into town between now and the next firing. They've scheduled the second test for the twenty-fifth.'

She also stood. The brusqueness of his manner surprised her. He was in a very strange mood, she thought. In fact, he'd been in a strange mood from the moment he'd arrived but she hadn't really noticed until now. She'd been so excited about gaining his help that she hadn't given a thought to anything else. But now she was puzzled. She was puzzled about a lot of things.

‘Why are you doing all this, Nick? Why are you helping me? What made you decide to tell me about …' She tailed off. ‘Oh my God!' Her eyes widened in amazement and she clapped a disbelieving hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, the Official Secrets Act. You've broken your oath of silence.'

‘Yes.' The penny's finally dropped, he thought. ‘Yes, I have.'

‘But that's a treasonable offence. You could be court-martialled.'

‘If someone betrayed me, I could, yes. I could even face a firing squad if the military decided to exercise the full measure of the law.' His smile was wry. ‘I suppose that means I'm in your hands, Elizabeth.'

‘Why?' She was dumbfounded. A man like Nick Stratton! The army was his life. It was incomprehensible. ‘You of all people – I don't understand. Why would you do such a thing?'

‘I believe you have right on your side and I want to help you.'

‘No, it's more than that. It's much, much more than that. Why, Nick?'

Then she read the answer in his eyes. His eyes quite clearly said:
can't you guess, Elizabeth?

‘You love me,' she said.

He said nothing, but his silence was answer enough.

‘Since when?'

‘Probably for some time,' he admitted. ‘I just didn't know.'

‘When did you find out?'

‘Not long after I left you that afternoon. When I got over my wounded pride and the notion that you'd used me, and when I realised what you'd said.'

‘What? That I love you?'

‘Yes. You took me by surprise, I have to admit.'

‘And this is your way of reciprocating?'

‘I suppose it is.'

‘You could have just told me, you know. That's the normal way.'

‘I don't put much faith in words myself. Words are too easy, they usually mean little.'

She smiled. ‘Actions speak louder, is that what you're saying?'

‘Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.' The answer really was that simple, he thought. ‘You need my help, Elizabeth, and I want to offer it to you in any way that I can.' He would offer this woman his life if necessary and, indeed, perhaps he already had.

‘I accept,' she said. ‘I accept wholeheartedly.'

Later, as they made love, Nick no longer fought a personal battle with his body in order to maintain supremacy. Their union ceased to be a challenge and a test of his power over her, becoming instead a mutual exchange. He gave himself as freely to Elizabeth as she did to him, and when it was over and they lay in each other's arms, he couldn't remember ever in his life having felt such a sense of belonging.

 

Tommo slipped the fifty pounds into his top pocket. ‘You better come in,' he said, and aimed a kick at the mangy yellow dog sniffing around Nick's feet. ‘Get out of it, you mongrel bastard.'

The dog slunk away into the shadows of the verandah, and Nick stepped inside the shabby little cottage.

‘Stick the kettle on, Mave, we've got a visitor,' Tommo yelled, and Mavis, a thin, sunburnt woman, appeared from the backroom.

‘Don't bother with the tea,' Nick said pleasantly. ‘I don't want to put you to any trouble.'

‘For fifty quid, mate, a cup of tea's no trouble, I can promise you that.' Harry gave an ostentatious wink to his wife. ‘Put the kettle on, Mave.'

‘No tea.'

Recognising the voice of authority, Mave halted halfway to the wood stove in the corner.

‘No tea,' Nick repeated, ‘just a few answers to a few questions.'

‘Whatever you like.' Tommo slumped into the soggy sofa. ‘Only trying to be friendly.'

‘Both of you, if you wouldn't mind.'

Mave joined her husband on the sofa, and Nick pulled up a kitchen chair from the nearby table and sat opposite them.

‘Do you recognise this man?' He showed them the photograph of Daniel that Elizabeth had given him.

‘Nup.' Tommo's reply was instant, but Mave hesitated, glancing at her husband as if seeking permission. She'd copped it for opening her mouth in the past.

‘Fifty quid, love.' Tommo nudged her encouragingly. ‘Tell the man what he wants to know. Mave never misses a trick,' he said with a gap-toothed grin.

‘Yeah, I seen him,' Mave said, ‘but not for some time now. Used to turn up for the train deliveries.'

‘What did you tell him about the murder of Pete Mitchell?'

Nick got straight to the point. He saw no reason not to; Tommo and Mavis had both given evidence at the trial of Harry Lampton.

‘Eh?' Mave looked at him blankly.

‘He was around here asking questions about the murder.'

‘No, he wasn't,' Mave said, ‘not him.' She waved a finger at the photo.

Tommo nodded; for fifty quid he wanted to be helpful. ‘No, he wasn't, mate. The only ones asking questions were the coppers and the other bloke.'

‘What other bloke?'

‘Jesus, I wouldn't know. Would you, Mave? The bloke who paid us the money – I wouldn't know his name. He never told us and I never asked.'

‘Oh, I know his name all right,' Mave said. ‘The pretty one. Ada always lusted after him, the slut. She never stopped talking about Gideon Melbray.'

‘Gideon Melbray?' Nick said. ‘You're sure?'

‘Course I am.'

‘He was making enquiries about Pete Mitchell's death?'

‘Yeah, that's right.' Tommo dived in; he was sick of Mave being the centre of attention. ‘He paid us to come forward as witnesses. Half upfront if we agreed and half when Harry was caught.'

‘And he paid us a
hundred quid
what's more,' Mave said with pursed lips and a meaningful nod.

‘Ah, well, I'm afraid I don't have access to that sort of money.'

As Nick stood, Tommo quickly jumped to his feet. Shit, fifty quid was fifty quid. Fucking Mave, he thought, you don't offend a bloke who gives you fifty quid!

‘Don't take any notice of the missus, mate. Anything I can do for you, any time, you just let me know. My door's open, mate, my door's open any time.'

When Nick had left, Tommo gave Mave a quick belt around the ears. Dumb cunt, he thought. Did she think fifty quid grew on fucking trees?

 

‘Why would Gideon Melbray be making enquiries about the murder, I wonder?'

It was five days later and Elizabeth and Nick were
seated on the balcony overlooking Glenelg beach, a pot of tea on the table before them. Their priorities were back to normal. The tea had been secondary; they'd made love the moment Nick had walked in the door. They were now discussing his findings, and Elizabeth was riveted.

‘And how would he get his hands on that amount of ready cash?' she went on. ‘You told me he was with the Department of Supply. It seems rather a lot for a government employee, don't you think?'

‘The money wasn't his. He wasn't making enquiries on his own behalf, he was in the employ of someone else.'

‘Who?'

‘Harold Dartleigh.'

‘Ah,' she said.

As she didn't appear particularly responsive to the news, Nick felt the need to explain. ‘It's Harold
Lord
Dartleigh to be precise, and he's –'