Donkeys Run The Mines

By Peter Maitland-Smith

Simon Bootham and David Whyatt couldn’t be more dissimilar. But the mining industry can prompt odd friendships. Bootham is trusted by his acquaintances though he has an aloof personality and a murky past. His present is building into something of growing suspicion also. He has a mission to travel to the Kimberleys though his growing band of acquaintances has no idea what it is. Even Judy, Bootham’s reluctant companion, thinks it’s a simple wilderness camping excursion with an incredibly well equipped host. The host just has to pull it all off before he is caught out for something else

Roly Dapsett knows the Kimberleys. He has been a career geologist all his working life and has developed an unhealthy obsession over the precious gems he spends every awake moment trying to uncover. His slackening hold on his sanity is beginning to affect his judgement and behaviour, and he has no tolerance for campers. He needs help and stirs the interest of a mining giant that cares even less for geologists and campers.

Is it to be a simple wilderness camping trip to one of the remotest places in Australia? Or was their guide on the run? Only one person knew the agenda and the route and he wasn’t telling. Even after 3 years in the mining industry together David Whyatt was no closer to knowing Boothams motives than his girlfriend was. Now Whyatt had a new girlfriend and was having to leave in a hurry as well. They were all headed to the Kimberleys now, unaware that the police were closing in.

Other interested parties with different motives were heading to the Kimberleys as well .Backed by the murky underbelly of a gigantic international corporation they had methods of dealing with impediments to their acquisitive natures. But even they are about to find out that not only the good die young.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Maitland-Smith
• Release date: May 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458168184

Book preview

DONKEYS RUN

THE MINES

by

Peter Maitland-Smith

****

PUBLISHED BY CHARGAN AT SMASHWORDS

This book available in print from

www.chargan.com

Donkeys Run - The Mines

Copyright © 2011 Peter Maitland-Smith

ISBN: 978-1-4581-6818-4

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Peter Maitland-Smith has asserted his right under the Copyright Act 1968 to be identified as the author of this work.

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Contents

Prologue

Humourless bugger really

The Kimberleys

Crushed Tapes

The Kimberleys

Mount Magnet

Sunburnt face

Broad rubber skid marks

Notoriety at last

Demeaning herself unnecessarily

Coital companion

Belts?

Wives should be clean

Ashtray

Suffered nausea

The Kimberleys

Pinimberra

Balloons

Parting pleasantries

Elephantine bulk

Crude Footwear

Teeth!

Stumblings in perspective

The grapevine

You family?

Touchy Situation

Massive indifference

Perth

Bordering on lunacy

HOOPER!

Class A Brooder

Parted Knees

Subtle stirring

Self defence again

Not wanting to be flippant

Perth

‘Special’ attention

Plummeting feeling

Valve popping extremes

Intimate contact

Monopoly and drinking Port

Pock Marks

Red plume

Flaccid mask

Affectionate attention

Little remorse or wasted time

Ethnic emotion

Appropriate action

Two serious incidents

He’s sacked!

Perth

Coincidental

A faint twinge of guilt

Noisy love

A blow up doll

Bit of a long shot

Reluctant gratitude

****

Prologue

Soapy

Glassy

Soapy

Glassy

His heart jumped! Another one!

Bigger. Not as pink but bigger.

He almost began to whimper in excitement. He didn’t need any more proof, but he couldn’t help himself. Just a couple more and he could stop. Maybe. He knew stream bed sampling in this sector would he his vindication. He made a personal log entry. Time, date, year. 1978.

Who’s the expert now you wheezing old bastard? he asked softly to himself. Standing stiffly he looked around him, scarcely noticing the panorama of his surrounds. He had been here too long to consider it scenic. It was the isolation that appealed to him the most. This wilderness was his home. The wilderness and these. Turning the slightly grubby pebbles over in his hand he smiled inwardly. Looking up again, he cast his eyes down the snaking riverbed. It tumbled over rocks, and meandered out of sight down a gradual decline; this section alone must at least half a kilometre long.

‘God knows how many more are here. Trapped, waiting for me.’

He chuckled, but stopped abruptly when he realised he had. Enough for now. He would keep these for proof, when he got back to camp. Well, he would show some as proof, not all, not the deepest, prettiest ones. They would be hidden for later. He chuckled again, and stopped just as abruptly. This time he heard something and froze. What was that? Inclining his head to the wind he waited. There it was again! It sounded like someone singing. Singing!! Not possible. How could this be? No other human ever came anywhere near here.

In near panic he bundled the pebbles into his pocket and cast his eyes over the sprawling landscape, narrowing his eyes to make out any movement. Nothing. He ran to his four wheel drive utility and grabbed a pair of binoculars off the front seat. That sound wasn't a vehicle. No animal he knew of could make that noise. It had to be human. Climbing onto a moderately high rock, he cast his eyes around slowly again. His stomach lurching, he saw it. Way off, it looked like a solitary figure. ‘Walking. Out here?’ He raised his binoculars and brought the figure into sharper focus.

A bearded man. Alone.

‘What the hell!?’

Whoever it was, he was not lost, that much was obvious. This guy was too relaxed. He looked like he lived here. ‘Lived here? This is not bloody good.’ Lived where? There were no settlements anywhere near here, no camps, nothing. This bloke looked white! There could be no one else that knew about this. Peering at the indistinct figure about a kilometre away, he noticed he kept looking down into the long grass. Scanning the grass it was possible to see the tiny shape of a dog. So he wasn’t totally alone. He looked like he had a rifle over his shoulder. But he was walking away from the river though, so was no immediate threat. What he was doing here and where he was going was a puzzle, but not a problem at the moment. He could still get out of here and get back to the main camp by tomorrow afternoon.

If he came across the lone hiker in that time he'd kill him.

Time to pack up.

Humourless bugger really

Unzipping his fly, and fiddling into position, David urinated onto a broad, dry and bustling ant hole. Amused at the reaction of the frantic oversized black ants, he moved his hips and splash bombed them in a wet loopy pattern. He quickly became less amused as they started swarming in panic over his feet and open sandals, which they had largely ignored, pre-deluge. Retreating backwards flicking and stamping his feet, still maintaining finger grip on his hose, he uncomfortably stepped into a spiny stunted bush and sprayed his sandals and part of his left leg in painful surprise.

Bugger! he cursed, reeling in and zipping up, careful not to catch anything.

Rubbing the back of his bare legs, he checked his feet once more for ants, gave them both another flick to be sure, and checked the front of his shorts for any tell-tales spots. ‘No-one would pick up a hitch-hiker who looked as if he had pissed himself,’ he thought.

Dry. He was relieved all round.

Some composure intact he turned and walked through the coarse undergrowth, back to the roadside, and the back of his travelling companion standing sentry, watching for any benevolent transport. Sitting on the gravel beside his bag of belongings, David looked around in a broad semi-circle at the ominously still landscape that dwarfed them. It was obvious there had been some late rain here. There was a little green pasture scattered about in sparse abundance, which was such a contrast to where they were returning. Western Australia’s mid-west rarely rained anything but dust.

Up there in the desert, as his mother continually clucked sadly for her only son. Thinking of his mother made him smile fondly. Such a gentle, simple, lonely lady. He did miss her. It took these infrequent trips back to the city to make him realise how much. He missed his whole family, even his father.

Recalling now, the past week that he had spent with them he smiled a little more broadly at his family’s individual reactions to his mate and travelling companion. His eldest sister was the most outspoken in her disapproval.

What’s wrong with him David? Jane had demanded to know in the kitchen of the family home, one morning early in their stay.

He’s so ... so bloody sullen! He doesn’t talk. Or when he does, it’s a grunt. Is he perpetually upset or what?

Who dear? enquired their mother, a little concerned as she entered the room on the tail end of the query. She thought, apprehensively, that her children had been talking about their father again.

Boof, David said before Jane could answer.

Both his sister and his mother had stared at him in mild surprise.

BOOF! What a bloody good name for him! snorted Jane derisively.

Perfect!

Don’t swear Jane dear, her mother had admonished gently as she filled the kettle. I do prefer Simon, I think David. Where is he by the way?

Helping Dad do something to the boat David replied, opening the refrigerator. Funny, he didn’t ask me to help too. He smiled good-naturedly knowing his family would not miss his point.

They should get on real well Jane said a little strongly. Made for each other I’d say.

Janie, please. Daddy has been working very hard lately. You know that. Mother had admonished her gently again, shooing her away from the cupboard where the cups were kept.

You’ve been telling us that for 23 years Mum. Jane said defensively, but without force.

26 years! corrected David with a smile. He was older. Almost 27.

I’ll ask them if they want some tea. Mother had stated, ignoring her offspring and exited via the patio door.

Jane and David had watched her walk down the lawn to the small jetty of their riverside home.

She never changes does she? David had commented softly. Still defending the obnoxious old sod.

No. Still a door mat to the grouchy, uncouth old fart. Jane spat venomously. All the money and comfort in the world and so lonely and used up.

You had another run-in with the old man? David asked, as he had helped himself to some leftover trifle.

Yeah. He still can’t understand why I didn’t do typing, or hairdressing, instead of Zoology at Uni. He thinks the only places zoologists get work is in zoos or in Africa! she had replied in frustration.

Laughing, David had remembered his own experiences when he had announced he was going to study Chemistry, rather than enter the family hardware and plumbing business. Both his parents thought chemists wore white coats, dispensed pills and potions, and sold jelly beans.

No. They’re pharmacists. he had told them and went on to explain. They weren’t convinced.

His mother was absolutely appalled, when years later; he achieved his degree and was offered a job in the mining industry almost straight away. She never really came to grips with the fact he preferred to go and live up there in the desert when she was convinced he could have his own little shop giving advice on the pill and what brand of toothpaste to use.

Here they come. Jane had announced, watching the two male figures walking up the small jetty, with mother dutifully two steps behind. The cheer squad! She sneered the word, cheer. David’s’ friend was dark. Very dark. Thick, dark, wavy to curly hair, with a neat two day growth. About 6ft tall Jane estimated, as he was only slightly taller than the bulkier, older frame of her father. He was lean too, she had thought, and muscular. He moved with an easy physical confidence. Jane liked his style, and grudgingly admitted to herself that she found him attractive. He certainly was not a Boofhead as his nickname might suggest. In fact he was almost fine featured. With his colouring he could pass for an Italian actor rather than a truck driving labourer. Jane had stopped herself from watching him any further; she was determined not to like him. Though she couldn’t help wondering what he would look like with his shirt off.

Perhaps she had been peeved that he had not so much as acknowledged her existence, let alone show any natural interest in her. If the gawking and constant attention she received from her male uni colleagues was anything to go by, she certainly was not unattractive herself. Perhaps it was that she expected a reaction and was unsettled to not have gotten one. She had shrugged it all off though. ‘Who cares? He’s an oaf like Dad anyway.’ she had thought.

While Simon and her father had washed up in the laundry, and mother had set the table for morning tea, Jane turned to watch her brother make the brew. She loved David. He was the ideal big brother. Funny, smart, protective, patient and seemingly never unhappy. She could always rely on him to lift her spirits. It saddened her to think he would soon return to the mining camp in the desert, and she wouldn’t see him again for another protracted period of time.

Gerry is going to hate you being away again. She’d said wistfully. Their youngest sister Geraldine was away boarding at a country riding school for her school holidays.

Yeah, me too. David had replied. I’ll make it up to her when I’m down again. Hopefully for good this time.

I’ve heard this before. Jane said. If you hate it so much, why do it?

Money’s better up there than down here ...

I’ve heard all that before too!

Knowingly, David had smiled back at her as he had tinkered with the teapot.

I s’pose your mate loves it. Jane said as if David should think the comment went without saying.

How on earth did you two form the buddy thing? You and Biff, you’re total opposites! she continued, on some new line of thought.

Boof, David had corrected.

Simon. Yeah, him! she waved his correction aside. You don’t seem to have a single thing in common. Besides the mine

A raised finger silenced her. Simon and her father had walked into the dining room.

He’s a bit hard to get to know. I’ll tell you about him sometime. David whispered to her conspiratorially, as he passed with the tray of teapot and strainer.

Can’t wait! Jane had said sarcastically, but also a little embarrassed that her brother had seen through her interest in Simon. She still could not see how someone as outgoing and sociable as David could tolerate the company of an off-hand truck driver like Biff, Boof, Simon, or whatever his bloody name was.

Many of Jane’s friends still asked after David in longing tones of adoration. No one could believe he would waste himself by taking off for the discomfort of the desert for such lengthy periods. Few of them called at the house now they knew David wasn’t there any longer. Besides, it may not always be pleasant company that they would encounter. After all, Jane’s father did own the house and had a perfect right to be there occasionally. But even he could be endured if David happened to be around. He was far too good looking to be a boy, Jane thought. A boy. That was it, wasn’t it? His blonde sandy hair, ageless face, and cheeky cherubic grin, with those lovely lively blue eyes. It was no wonder he could charm the ladies, of all ages.

It wasn’t just his looks though, Jane knew that. He had their mother’s gentle nature too. He didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. ‘Not like you!’ Jane thought as she approached the table to sit down and looked across at Simon. ‘There is something sinister and dangerous about you.’

As if sensing her scrutiny, Boof had looked up and transfixed her with fiery, depthless dark eyes. Jane had caught her breath and barely heard her name being called.

Uh! What? she stammered, looking across at David, thankful for the distraction.

Can you run us out to Midland later in the week? We can get a ride from there. David had asked already knowing what the answer would be.

Yeah, sure. Jane had said, not looking up at Boof again. Do it before I go to work. She had a job in her mother’s best friend’s boutique for the semester holidays.

’Maybe I should have been a mechanic instead of a chemist.’ David thought now, as he sat on the roadside. ‘Maybe Dad and I would get on better.’ Though he doubted it really. He and his father didn’t exactly dislike each other, they were just different. Besides, David couldn’t stand motors and stuff like that. Not that he couldn’t fix things if he had to, it just bored him to do it. He liked things his father couldn’t understand, and couldn’t understand the things his father liked. Or was it the other way around? Maybe his father and Boof would have been a better combination. Though David doubted that too. He had known Boof off and on for years and still had no real inkling as to what made the older man tick. Boof was as much a mystery to him now as he was when they had met all those years ago in England where they had both been on holidays.

David had taken a year off after his graduation, and met this fellow Aussie working in a holiday camp on the English seaside. Boof then, as indeed he was now, even when surrounded by people; seemed totally alone, and enjoyed it that way. However, different circumstances throw different personalities together. David, as usual, had done most of the talking, and never would have understood that his presence was not welcomed. Initially anyway. Later they had bought a van between them, formed an unlikely travelling union, though David had never taken time to rationalise it away anymore. He just knew that he was the closest thing to a friend that Boof would tolerate.

Looking at the motionless figure standing on the bitumen's edge, David wondered about Boof again. He’d been wondering about Boof on and off for years. Rationalising or analysing the quiet one wasn’t a worthwhile exercise. ‘Why hadn’t Boof joined the army,’ David wondered? It struck him those men like Boof probably made ideal warriors. Though he answered that question himself. He knew Boof would never tolerate the regimen or the subservience required of military service. He was the classic loner with his own agenda, and he rarely tolerated compromise. Smiling inwardly, David remembered seeing his first Clint Eastwood spaghetti western on video at the mine-site, and how similar the cowboy with no name seemed to Boof.

Only Boof didn’t ride a horse, he had a four wheel drive that he probably was just as close to. Boof had a knack with machines, in fact all things mechanical it seemed. He drove the huge haul-packs that carried ore from the open cut to the crushers. He loved it, and it suited him. Solitary, in command of an immense source of raw power, alone for most of the day with little or no supervision. At the wheel of one of those automotive monsters Boof would be in his element, with little interference and the time to think about... What? God knows what he thought about! Maybe he thought about his plans for the big mysterious trip he had planned early in the New Year.

David had felt a little miffed he hadn’t been invited to go along, though he wasn’t surprised. He knew one thing. It wasn’t simply some four wheel drive into the scrub for the weekend. Planning and preparing for this mystery tour took up a lot of Boofs time, and was one of the reasons they were now hitch-hiking back to Pinimberra. The precious Land Cruiser had been left in Perth to undergo some modifications that could not be done elsewhere in Western Australia. ‘Boof the warrior and his four wheel drive charger off to do God knows what, God knows where!’ Smiling at this thought, David could imagine how Boof would react to such a comment. Typically with no reaction at all. Just impale you with that fierce squint and those riveting eyes. Humourless bugger really, David thought.

In all the years he had known him, David had never seen or heard him laugh once. Smile, sometimes perhaps. But nothing that could pass for a good old knee slapping belly laugh, not even a big face creasing chuckle. Just squinted, rain hail or shine and blasted people with the intensity of his stare. People for the most part, avoided him after meeting him. His disdain for most people’s company was obvious.

There were also the rumours. His past was supposed to be littered with horrible episodes of vicious violence and almost gothic mystery. Nearly everybody had a story about him; which was amazing, because so few knew him at all! Certainly he was not beyond the odd altercation with some of the tough nuts he came in contact with, and he was well known to be as hard as nails when he played in the local football club matches. David had seen firsthand a lot of situations where Boof stood his ground in seemingly unwinnable circumstances, and either bluff his way out, or put the opposition in hospital. He had spent at least four nights in overnight police detention for fighting and had been charged with assault once that David knew of. Those charges had been dropped at the last minute.

David didn’t know a lot about Boof’s early background apart from what he reluctantly offered when he was asked, pushed and prodded into divulging. His parents were apparently into mixed farming of some sort, mainly wheat, David remembered. Some sheep and beef also.

Why Boof hadn’t chosen to stay on the land himself, David didn’t know. ‘He’s a smart bugger, so he probably did well at school.’ David thought. He had seen his mate’s library, and a lot of it was over David’s head, and he was incredibly well educated! From where he stood, with his usual uncanny knack for knowing he was being scrutinised, Boof turned slowly and squinted at David. Feeling slightly silly and not knowing why, he strolled over, asking What are the chances of getting a ride all the way back d’ya think?

Good, was the simple reply.

Their first ride had deposited them about two hundred kilometres out of Perth on the highway that led to all points north. They had risen early. Too early for David’s sister, who needed to be threatened in order to get her out of bed. David had suggested that perhaps she would prefer being tipped onto the floor by Boof, which resulted in almost immediate acquiescence.

Suspecting that ‘Biff’ would have no qualms whatever at doing David’s bidding. Jane blearily shuffled about dressing, protesting softly.

Already up and preparing sandwiches and drinks for the trip back to the Pinimberra mine, David’s mother fussed and hovered, to make sure the boys were not leaving anything behind. His father was still asleep long after they had left, and long after his mother had finished gently weeping on the front porch.

As they drove out of the city, David made up his mind to really spoil his mother with attention the next time he came back. Jane left them on the outskirts of the city and they picked up a ride almost straight away. It was that ride that had rather hurriedly deposited them where they now languished in the increasing heat of the day.

David had been caught being a little too friendly with the driver’s girlfriend in the back of the Kombi while she was attempting to make some lunch for them all. That in itself wasn’t so bad, David thought, but the driver; big bad Trev’, had dragged him bodily out of the camper and just about slapped his head off his shoulders before Boof intervened.

The Kimberleys

Browning wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

Jesus, it never lets up does it?

Eh?

Nothing. Just talking to myself

Weather whinging

Yeah

How long has it been this time, Alan? Couple of months?

Alan Browning sat thoughtfully for a few seconds. The metal survey tape shone flatly, stretching away in the centre of his line of sight. It seemed they had been surveying this grid for a week, though it had only been four hours.

Twelve weeks on the dot, tomorrow lunch time, he answered slowly, turning to consider his companion.

Christ! No wonder you’re ready for a break. It doesn’t pay to work over your rec. leave.

When was the last time you went to Perth? Or Darwin? You’ve been here since I came up!

There was a pause.

Yeah, well I don’t work outside all day every day like you guys do. The physical exertion isn’t there in the same way.

You can say that again, Browning snorted. Chortling he added, You sit around in your air conditioned kennel all day getting calluses on your bum!

There was no rejoinder, apart from some good-natured chuckling.

Why are you here, Darren? asked Browning. Don’t you trust the contract help to do their stuff proper? You checkin’ on me Master?

Darren Hillhouse was crouching; one knee raised supporting a pad that he pencilled figures onto.

No, mate, pushing himself upright. I’ve known you long enough to know you’re only totally dishonest. Just thought I’d come out and lap up some of the soggy sunshine. Give my calluses a rest. He read the tape.

Browning gathered up the theodolite and tripod, looking at Hillhouse. It had been a long time. Nearly seven years. Hillhouse had been a lecturer then, aching for a change. Well he certainly got it. It came in the form of a unique opportunity with the Banford Joint Venture. They wanted a numbers man with organisational skill to run a field crew and exploration team. Their leases in the Kimberleys were extensive and had yielded some more than promising results. Through his predecessor and his own efforts, the Joint Venture was poised to make history and put Australia to the forefront of diamond producing nations in the world.

‘How old is he?’ Browning thought. Must be mid fifties easily.

He looked middle aged when he was a part of the Geology unit at the Institute. Though he looked at home here. Suntanned, hatless, deep smile lines in his rugged bland sort of face. A bit podgy around the middle maybe, but he looked as fit as a bull. It was a shame he sucked those horrible French cigarettes into himself. Hillhouse dropped the tape reel into the back of the Land Cruiser parked under a tree nearby. He could feel Brownings scrutiny, and wondered what questions were forming in that inquisitive mind that he wouldn’t want to answer.

I never thought you’d leave the Institute you know. Hillhouse felt slightly relieved as Browning went on, I couldn’t believe my ears when they told me you were boss cocky up here.

Why is it so surprising? Hillhouse asked, I’d been a working geologist for eighteen years before the Institute.

Yeah, I know. We all knew that. But you just seemed so settled in as a lecturer. You know, I thought maybe you’d climbed all your hills and dug all your holes. Besides, you were beginning to get that smug look people get in the public service.

Ohh! I see! mock outrage from Hillhouse. You mean you thought I was too old!

Yeah. That’s it, Browning answered with a good natured leer.

You always were a cheeky young sod. Bloody know-all too. No teacher hates anyone more than a bloody know-all.

Hillhouse dropped to a one knee crouch again and went for the cigarettes in his top pocket. Lighting one quickly without needing to shield it from the wind, the ease of which came with lifelong commitment.

You still smoke that French shit? spat Browning disgustedly.

Let’s have some lunch, Hillhouse said, ignoring him. Call the others in.

He went over to the back of the second vehicle. Somewhere in its dusty recesses was a hamper with enough food for four men for one day. Finding it he opened and reached inside.

Taking out a large container of cold water he poured some into a mug, also in the hamper. Squatting again he sipped his water and hauled on the cigarette, as he watched the other three men approach. They all moved with the lethargy that tropical weather induced, as if the heat and humidity were only just bearable. Today