Black Gold

By Garry Boyd

With his job under threat from a vindictive boss (his ex-wife's father) Coalmine engineer Mitch Mayne is plunged into the secretive and dangerous world of international terrorism. Hunter Valley Mines are targeted by a group planning to end Australia's geographical isolation from terrorism and 'terrify the nation out of its senses'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Garry Boyd
• Release date: May 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476259147

Garry Boyd

Garry Boyd was born in Sydney in 1945 and attended high school at Fort Street Boys. He represented the school at cricket and tennis. After marrying in 1971, the family moved to Gulgong in Central West New South Wales and he became involved in the coal industry, which lasted twenty-three years. In 1996 he graduated with a Bachelor of Business degree from Charles Sturt University. A sea change called and in 2001 he moved to Tea Garden where he is actively involved in community work.

Book preview

BLACK GOLD

Garry Boyd

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Garry Boyd

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To my friend Sue

who once remarked,

You should write a book.

Well, fifteen years later...

Table of Contents

Monday 1st

Tuesday 2nd

Wednesday 3rd

Monday 8th

Thursday 11th

Saturday 13th

Sunday 14th

Monday 15th

Tuesday 16th

Wednesday 17th

Thursday 18th

Friday 19th

Saturday 20th

Sunday 21st

Monday 22nd

Wednesday 24th

One Year Later

Monday 1st

Mitchell Mayne loved to drive the XR8, though he’d been the one who scoffed when she insisted they buy one. Now he knew her insistence was driven by some reaction to the news she’d never be able to have children. She’d been such a wonderful woman, the Melissa that he’d married. Then she turned into someone else, spent money like there was no tomorrow, became a stranger. She was his Melissa in name only.

They did buy the flash car though, and now $50,000 was dangling around his neck courtesy of the company novation lease. Complete with all the bells and whistles she’d wanted, the damned thing cost just over $65,000. That was too much car for a coalmine shift engineer, especially when he had to borrow an extra $200,000 on the housing scheme to buy her half of the house. He was up to his eyeballs in debt, and all either directly or indirectly to his employer—a situation that did not sit well. If that wasn’t bad enough, the real downer was that his boss, the electrical engineer in charge, happened to be his ex-father-in-law. Bloody woman, just twelve months ago he owned a great little hatchback and the house as well.

Mayne turned the fan up on high and the windscreen quickly demisted. He peered out at the waterlogged countryside. Several days of steady rain had saturated the ground; surface water was everywhere and turned the road into a series of mini lakes and rivers, plumes of spray streamed out behind the car. Under the bonnet a big V8 growled that macho sound only a combination of power and an expensive sporty exhaust system could produce. Damn Melissa, she even had expensive taste in exhausts.

Eventually his mind wandered back to that disastrous meeting of the previous week. It seemed like he couldn’t get the thing out of his head. Here he was, in the pouring rain, driving back to college. Was it a good idea or not? One thing was for sure, Foster Calhoun was a smart bastard. He recalled Calhoun’s indignation at that meeting when he’d tried to discuss promotion …

What, promote you to level four? Look Mitchell you have no one to blame for your problems but yourself, and you know you can’t be a level four without an electronics ticket! Perhaps if you spent less time in that fancy car you might find time to do the course. Besides, since the Swedes took over, this place has been bloody torched, you’re lucky you still work here.

Mayne had fought to control his anger. It was your bloody daughter’s idea to buy that car, not mine. I’m just the silly prick who picked up the bill.

At the mere mention of his daughter, Calhoun began to bellow and wave his arms about in anger. Don’t be bringing Melissa in to this, you bastard, this is about a company matter and you leave her out of it. After what you did to her there’s no wonder she’s taken off and moved to Lithgow. You ungrateful bastard. She let you keep that bloody car and live in the house, and you’re still whingeing about it.

Look Foster, when she found out she could never have children, it was her who turned off, not me. I explained that at the hearing, as much as I hate putting my personal life on show, she became an iceberg, and wouldn’t even discuss IVF or adoption. And here’s stupid me working back-to-back 12-hour day shifts with that bloody Russell on nights, and he’s seeing her while I’m at work during the day. At nights she’s too bloody stuffed to come anywhere near me. The only reason she left me the car and house is because she wanted money to keep her high-flying bloody lifestyle afloat, even she can’t spend bloody fresh air. You know now she’s shacked up with that Russell arsehole down Lithgow, don’t you?

Foster’s attitude suddenly took a 180-degree turn about; his voice became calm and steady, a smile played momentarily on his lips. Mayne should have been awake but his judgement was clouded by anger.

Tell you what Mitchell, Calhoun had continued, I’ll pretend I never heard that pack of bloody lies, and instead I’ll give you some good advice. I said you need an electronics ticket to advance to level four and you do, it’s company policy and I certainly won’t be raising one finger to circumvent that for a shit like you, but I will make some concessions.

Mayne recalled his blunt reply. This ought to be good, you’re too careful guarding your precious bloody retirement to make concessions. You’re so far up the company’s arse you’re nearly out of sight.

Foster simply smiled that fatherly smile of his that always infuriated Mayne.

But you don’t understand, my boy. I’m prepared to change your shift so you can go to the Kurri Kurri School of Electronics and get your certificate. Then we could discuss your promotion to level four. Now isn’t that fair?

Mayne in turn calmed down, wary of the sudden change in attitude. How gracious of you Foster, but what’s the catch?

Catch Mitch? There’s no catch. I’ll even put it in writing to management about the new arrangements for you.

What new arrangements?

Why, your new working hours of course. Monday to Friday, 7.00 am to 3.00 pm so you can drive over to Kurri and complete the course. I believe it goes from 6.30 pm to 10.30 pm on Monday nights. It’s only about a three-hour drive to Kurri, you should be back in bed by 2.00 am and get a good night’s sleep for a 7.00 am start on Tuesdays. The course only runs for a year. How does that sound to you? Will that help?

God help me, muttered Mayne.

Yes, I’ll go to great pains and rearrange the roster to accommodate your wishes. Of course you realise that no longer working 12-hour shifts will mean a small decrease in salary, and we’ll make sure there is no weekend overtime so that you can study distraction free. You might feel it’s a sacrifice now, but think of level four and all the perks. What’s dropping ten grand now? You’ll more than make it up.

For sometime Mayne stared at his boss, struggling to control the fire within. You’re a low-life Foster but I can handle that, more so because I won’t be around to cover your arse when all the questions start flying about electronics. You know bugger-all about it. I’ve covered your back for the last five years and while I’ll just be formalising my qualifications, you’ll be up shit creek minus a paddle. I hope they find out just what a parasite you are. Just you remember, let me down and I’ll put your fucking lights out, that’s a promise.

Eventually the big V8 nosed its way into the Kurri TAFE car park, Mayne stepped out of the warm car into a chilling breeze and light, driving rain that whipped down the wet streets of Kurri Kurri. He made a mental note that the rain at least appeared to be easing. Across the road the local pub seemed to be doing a roaring trade. Cars and trucks were parked outside both up and down the street on both sides of the road. Sounds of laughter and voices could be heard clearly. Mayne wondered that if this were Monday night, what would it be like on Saturday?

A weathered white sign, carved in the shape of a finger, pointed the way to the Admissions Desk, through ancient doors of varnished oak. Another white but freshly-painted finger directed enquirers down the corridor to the left.

From her dimly-lit desk a woman, Mayne guessed probably about late thirties, glanced up on his approach. She smiled sweetly and stood up, straightening her back and stretching her arms way over her head. Mayne smiled back, but not before he noted the firm curve of her breasts beneath the body-hugging skivvy she wore. Mayne wondered if everyone received this type of welcome—she certainly had been in attendance the day that boobs were handed out. They were so perfect, surely they couldn’t be fakes? Just as surely he wondered, this woman couldn’t be desperate, but why else would she be working in this backwater at this time of night? There was no future for someone like her here; presumably there must be none at home either. He remembered his leading hand Bazza O’Hara’s philosophy on breasts, ‘Confucius say if you ain’t gottem, don’t fakem, only lead to disappointment’ and tried hard to hide his mirth.

Can I help you? she asked, as her dark and wandering eyes examined every inch of Mayne’s athletic frame.

I hope so … Mitchell Mayne here to enrol in Advanced Electronics. Am I in the right place?

You certainly are, she continued softly. We’ve been expecting you. All the way from Mudgee I believe. That must be a drag?

Yair, agreed Mayne, about 250 kilometres on the trip meter and just on 3 hours travel time, rained all the way.

Goodness, the classes don’t finish till 10.30 pm, are you going to drive home each night or stay over? You may not know but the town’s booked out by a Truck and Four Wheel Drive Show. Accommodation is almost impossible to find. Next Monday there’s a Football Carnival and Coaching Clinics. It’s good for the town but hard to find somewhere to stay. With an air of apparent concern she waited, breathless, for his reply.

Mayne had a funny feeling where there may have been some accommodation. No, I’ll commute each night, I’ve got a good car.

Yes, a lovely colour, I saw you drive in.

Thank you, smiled Mayne sweetly, my wife picked it.

Now all Mrs Efficiency, and with no trace of a smile, his admission was processed and directions given to the lecture room.

Inside Mayne glanced casually about, noting the usual suspects were present. Older guys there to keep pace with technological change, younger blokes keen to climb corporate ladders. Other faces wore blank expressions—some people, he decided, had no idea whatsoever why they were there. He recalled the days at tech doing his apprenticeship and the classes he attended, concluding, ‘all things change but some remain the same’.

There was one couple sitting at the back that didn’t fit the criteria. Neither looked like the engineering type, thought Mayne. Immediately he wondered what exactly does an engineering type look like? He made a mental note to think about that some other time.

One was an attractive woman of about thirty, her jet-black hair drawn back tightly in a bun that only served to enhance her attractive face. It accentuated the high cheekbones, pert little nose; she had no need of make-up. There was ample evidence under her white business blouse of development definitely not of an artificial nature; she certainly was easy on the eyes.

Beside her sat a tall man probably of Middle Eastern appearance, about forty, immaculately dressed, with thick black hair and manicured moustache. Why is it, mused Mayne, that some of these Middle East guys look so much like Saddam Hussein or is it just my imagination? There must be a Saddam look-alike contest somewhere with big prizes. But who cares, he continued to ponder, what you look like so long as you get the girl. Mayne decided the guy’s moustache was too thin to be a ‘Saddam’, but he himself wouldn’t have minded being a Saddam if he ended up with the guy’s companion. His preoccupation with the two in the back row was broken by a voice from the front of the room.

Welcome everyone, began a short, obese man standing by the blackboard. I’m Jim Taylor, your lecturer in Advanced Electronics. For those who don’t know me, I’m Senior Electronics Project Engineer with Beaconsfield Electronics. We are engineers primarily to the mining industry, but occasionally we moonlight in other areas. I also like to think of myself as connoisseur of the amber fluid and devoted disciple of the hostelry immediately over the road. A fine example of 19th century architecture if ever there was one and my principal place of worship. If you can’t find me, try there, you just might be lucky.

The shuffling of feet and muted laughter meant the class had relaxed after this most informal of introductions. Now that I’ve got your attention, continued Taylor, "I want to give you an outline of Advanced Electronics, my expectations of you and an indication of the level of commitment required, should you expect to successfully complete the subject that is. Later this evening we will undertake a little revision on Introductory Electronics just to refresh everyone’s memory.

But first I would like to introduce two visitors who seek your cooperation in some research they are undertaking. Both are involved in collecting data for their respective organisations and they will explain their brief shortly. When they approached the Australian Coal Association about their projects, the ACA suggested it may be more expedient if they joined forces and worked together. Whilst their objectives are unrelated, they seek just a few minutes of our time while we’re all together and hopefully your assistance further down the track. Firstly would you please welcome Miss Lily Valdez, come on up Lily.

Twenty pairs of eyes turned as one, watching the woman rise and smile, then glide down the aisle to the podium. Mayne permitted a small breath of air to escape from his pursed lips. At another time that could have been a whistle, but tonight it made no sound.

On reaching the podium she adjusted her steel-rimmed glasses and fiddled nervously with a silver chain and locket around her neck. When she did speak however, there was no evidence of nerves and Mayne listened intently.

Good evening gentlemen, I’m Lily Valdez and I represent a privately-funded organisation you may probably not know of, that is the Benedict Foundation. No doubt you’ll have realised from my accent that I’m a Kiwi from across the pond … but don’t worry I’m paying my own way. A flashing smile followed and Mayne knew she had them in the palm of her hand.

The Benedict Foundation was established by Hilton A Benedict III to provide financial support in the area of mature-age student education. Mr Benedict is a reclusive gentleman and a New Zealand national. He maintains a very low profile and leaves the operation of the foundation to the dedicated few such as myself. One aspect of mature-age student education that concerns the foundation is the high incidence of students withdrawing or dropping out from courses. You may believe that the reasons are obvious and include work pressures, family commitments, financial demands and so forth. No doubt those are genuine concerns but the facts are that no-one has ever done any research into the problem. This is where we at Benedict come into play. The failure by many to complete their courses results in a waste of the educational institutions’ resources as well as the finances, time and emotional stress of the individuals concerned—all this for absolutely no reward whatsoever. I’m sure you gentlemen will be the exception to the rule. This last remark was met with a combination of mumbles and laughter; Mayne was enjoying how she manipulated the audience.

My objective tonight is to seek your involvement in the program by participating in an interview to be conducted by myself. This interview will not take much of your time and is mainly concerned with your reasons for enrolling, family situation and support, educational background, ambitions, motivational drivers and so forth. If you agree to participate I will contact you again in a further twelve months to see how you are getting on. That is if you are still doing the course and if so why so, and if not why not. Combined with the research conducted by my colleagues in other states of Australia and New Zealand we will be able to establish a database. All information obtained will be on a strictly confidential basis and not used by any other organisation or for any other purpose, no names will appear on any of the surveys. I have here a list for you to add your name if you wish to be involved. A phone number would also be helpful so I can make contact to arrange a suitable date and time. I do expect to conduct the interviews in the following month or so. Thank you for your time gentlemen and I sincerely appreciate your assistance. Over to you Jim.

The woman stepped down from the podium and took a different route back to her seat this time passing by Mayne. He stared absentmindedly at her curvy body and short skirt and those long, long legs. Looking up he found she was gazing directly at him as she walked by, a wry smile on her lips. Mayne smiled back thinking, this woman can read minds.

Our next visitor I’d like to introduce is Mr Abu Bin Latoum, who’s associated with an organisation I’m sure you know, but I’ll let him explain. Abu, you’ve got the floor.

Mayne watched the man rise and walk quietly to the front, noting the economy of movement. Stealth was the word he was searching for. Fit and lean, dressed in a smart grey business suit and matching tie, he looked impressive. Mayne still thought this guy had a hard act to follow.

Thank you Mr Taylor, and thank you also gentlemen, for your attention. His perfect, educated English accent came as a surprise to all present including Mayne, who leaned back in his chair and listened.

Gentlemen, my name is Abu Bin Latoum and I am in no way related to Mr Osama Bin Laden, I’d like you all to know that.

Just like Lily he got a quick laugh plus their attention.

"I work for a company called Eastern Labour Solutions, based in Hong Kong. Presently I am on secondment to the United Nations Program ‘Iraq – The Future’. You all know the UN of course, and the reason for my presence in Australia is to observe the organisation and structure of labour in the mining and petroleum industries. My role in Iraq’s future is linked to the restructure of Iraq’s labour force so that they themselves may better manage their own valuable resources.

"Consequent to the overthrow of the tyrant Saddam Hussein, the eventual replacement of the US and Coalition forces by a UN Peace Keeping force, the most expedient way Iraq can get back on its feet is to get the very best out of its natural resources. The most valuable obviously being oil. Since sanctions have been lifted now is the time to modernise production processes including the most efficient utilisation of labour. To that end I invite your help. Subsequent benefits flowing on to the long-suffering people of Iraq need little explanation. I too, like Lily, would also appreciate you participating in a survey.

What I want is for you to tell me how you best manage your staff. How do you get the best results, what strategies do you employ and why? I could simply approach top level management and receive reams of literature on company policies and procedures. But I want to hear it from you, the supervisors who get their hands dirty, the front-line of management. I can assure you in Iraq there will be very few top level managers, so it’s important I get to hear your story. I will also be seeking support from various unions to—as you Aussies say—see the flip side of the coin. So now you’ve heard my story, I hope I get to hear yours. I will put my list next to Lily’s and, again, I do appreciate your help. Thank you all and thank you Jim for your valuable time. Best of luck in the course.

***

Foster Calhoun edged his chair closer to the desk and that computer keyboard he hated so much. As a matter of fact he hated the keyboard, the mouse, the tower, the terminal, bytes, megabytes, kilobytes and microchips. He hated them as much as he hated electronics. He knew kids in primary school who took to computers like they’d been working on them for a lifetime, like water off a duck’s back. Same thing with that bastard Mayne and electronics—knew everything. Give me amps, watts, volts, kilowatts, transformers, cables and connectors, just good old electricity and no one knew more than Foster Calhoun. That bastard Mayne must be pissed off big time to have to drive to Kurri every Monday night to learn what he already knows. In twelve months time, when the mongrel finishes the course, Calhoun would be retired and stuff Mayne’s level four. That was, if he lasted twelve months.

Calhoun clicked the cursor on electronic messaging. This was just another area where he often had problems, finding the addressee. He typed in the letter M, but that was stupid for he was after Myron Black, the human resources manager. So let’s try B, he chuckled. Instantly the screen was filled with a long list of surnames beginning with B, and he clicked on to Black. The message header appeared, then all there was left to do was follow the prompts:

MESSAGE TO: Myron K Black

DEPARTMENT: Human Resources

TITLE: Manager

FROM: Foster Calhoun

DEPARTMENT: Underground

TITLE: Electrical Superintendent

MESSAGE STATUS: Priority

SECURITY: Person-to-Person. Strictly Confidential.

COPIES: Nil

SUBJECT: Employee Profile Significant Incident—Mitchell Mayne

Dear Myron,

I wish to report an incident that occurred yesterday during a meeting between the above and myself. I have taken a self imposed 24-hour cooling-off period so as my actions would best represent the interests of firstly the company and then Mr Mayne. Let me give you some background information. Mayne has on several occasions over the past few months pressured me to promote him to Level 4 Electronics Engineer.

Yesterday he demanded a meeting to discuss the matter further.

1.In order to keep the peace I agreed but as you and I both know progression to Level 4 requires an Electronics Certificate. Mr Mayne does not currently hold that qualification.

2.I made a decision that I believe to be in the best interests of both the company and Mr Mayne.

3.I offered to change his shifts from 4 x 12 to 5 x 8 and even exempt him from weekend overtime so that he could attend Kurri Kurri College on Monday nights when the Electronics Course is held. I suggested he would be free then to study on weekends.

4.When I further advised he would have to take a salary cut because of roster changes I believe his words may have amounted to a threat. Unfortunately I have no witnesses.

5.I have done my very best for this young man including rearranging the rosters of several supervisors at short notice. All those affected agreed to the changes without question.

6.One supervisor willing to make the change is young Russell Mackay, who is very experienced with electronics and is currently working 4