Mirikata Magic

By Bette Shiels

Kaylene Scott is an innocent, but ambitious young woman who is
cajoled by a budding entrepreneurial lover to become a partner in
a project to convert a redundant Rocket-tracking Station in the Australian
Outback, into a modern, Tourist Bus Stopover in the hope of gaining great
wealth. She is sent to supervise the landscaping and conversion, with four
tradesmen, in readiness for the opening.
Whilst driving through the desolate outback to her destination, she stops
to offer assistance to a family of stranded travellers. Here she meets Todd,
an intriguing half-caste Aboriginal man who leads her through his world of
Dreamtime Magic, as he searches for his identity.
Little does she expect to become involved in the mysterious death of a
stockman on her first night at Mirikata, involving conflict and an unknown
world of Indigenous Dreamtime Legends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Mar 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456844240

Bette Shiels

Bette Shiels writes from life experiences gained through Australian wide travel, during her 46 years of marriage to her late husband Col, who was a Civil Construction Superintendant. She writes in all genres, fiction and non-fiction, all with strong Australian historical content. Krubi's Dreamtime is her fourth novel and is a sequel to her last book, Mirikata Magic, written due to many requests from avid readers.

Book preview

Prologue

T he lone figure crept along the lane to the back of the hotel. Fine rain filmed on his gaunt features, stringy hair hung in dreadlocks to his shoulders, but he was oblivious to his surroundings or discomfit. His nerves were taut violin strings, screaming for relief.

The heavy door gave a squeak as he entered the storeroom, but he ignored it. The cash drawer was behind the bar and he knew that it was the only thing between him and the ecstasy of his next fix.

‘You out there, Gary?’ Came a voice from the room beyond. The figure froze instinctively.

‘Nah; I’m about ta count the takin’s. Why?’

‘Thought I heard the back door open.’

From the adjoining room a heavy shouldered man shoved his way through the door and switched on the overhead light, illuminating the emancipated form cowering in a corner.

‘Well, well, well; what do we have here?’ Gary said in a quiet, deadly tone. He reached behind a stack of wine crates and pulled out a baseball bat. ‘Lost ya way, did ya, Matey? Thought ya might help ya’self to some goodies, eh?’

‘Who are you talking to, Gary?’ his working companion called.

‘Got meself a feral who needs a lesson in manners, Reg.’

Reg heard the dull thump of the bat hitting flesh and an agonizing scream of pain before he rushed into the storeroom. Gary was raising the bat again above the crumpled figure on the floor.

‘Leave off, Gary. He’s just a junkie. Toss him out in the lane. The salvos’ll pick him up later.’

‘Pig’s arse! I’m gunna teach this one ta stay away.’ The bat came down with a dull thud and Reg heard the spindly arm break like an eggshell. ‘How do ya like them apples, ya dumb fuck! How about a coupla broken legs ta go with the arms? Sounds good ta me. You’ll thank me for this one day. Can’t shoot up with broken arms and legs, so you’ll hafta go cold turkey won’t ya, Matey?’

Reg raced back to press the alarm that would bring the police. He’d seen Gary work people over before, and this one was in such a poor condition that he was likely to be killed. After the initial scream the only sound heard was the dull thump of the baseball bat and Gary’s heavy grunts.

The two detectives stood in the doorway of the Albion Hotel and studied what looked like a bundle of bloodied rags piled in the corner of the room. Blood splattered the walls behind the still form. An ambulance officer looked over at the dark-featured detective and shook his head in disgust. ‘Is he still alive?’ the detective asked.

‘Only just. You’d better talk to the big bloke in the bar.’

The men walked into the bar where Gary and Reg were drinking beer.

‘I’m Detective Harrison, this is Detective Nelson.’ Reg had trouble meeting the detective’s eyes when he asked, ‘Which one of you hero’s belted the crap out of the junkie?’

Gary slid off the barstool and drew himself upright in an effort to make his 172cm frame seem taller. His tight black t-shirt emphasized his muscular biceps, which he flexed before stating bluntly, ‘Just doin’ your job for ya, Matey. Someone’s gotta teach these dickheads they can’t just take what they want.’

Detective Nelson’s voice was low and seething with sarcasm when he said, ‘Yeah, I can see he really put up a fight. He must weigh about 55 kilos, sopping wet. What did he take?’

Gary sneered and said, ‘We got him before he could take anything. Right, Reg?’

Reg was slow to nod his head, but remained silent.

Detective Harrison took over the questioning, whilst his partner walked around inspecting the area in the storeroom. When he returned he heard Detective Harrison say, ‘You’ll both have to make a statement, but if the bastard dies, you could be facing a manslaughter charge.’

‘Was he armed?’ Detective Nelson asked Gary.

‘Yeah. I think he had a tyre lever. That right, Reg?’

‘Yeah, I think so,’ Reg mumbled.

‘That must have frightened shit out of you. I can see how dangerous he looked. I doubt the poor bugger could have lifted a tyre lever.’

Gary’s expression was one of sheer hate. ‘If you bloody coppers cleaned up the junkies, I wouldn’t hafta thump ’em.’ As the detectives turned to leave Gary added, softly, ’Coon bastard, what would you know?’

Detective Nelson swirled with the agility of a leopard and grabbed a handful of Gary’s shirt, wrenching him forward to within a millimetre of his face and hissed, ‘What did you say?’

Gary shook free and smiled laconically. ‘Nothin’, Matey. Keep ya shirt on.’

As the detectives drove back to the station Ron Harrison said, ‘That’s the worst I’ve seen him do. Someone should shoot the bastard. He’s crazy.’

‘How long has he been a bouncer?’

‘Practically since he came back from Vietnam; the war really scrambled his brains, and all he wants to do now is inflict pain. He doesn’t give a stuff who it is, that’s why he should be put away.’

‘We should have enough to slot him this time, I reckon.’

Harrison scratched his head and shook it vigorously. ‘I doubt it. That other bloke is shit scared of him. He’ll end up saying it was him who did the work-over. Oh, and mark my words, Gary’s not going to let you off easily for inferring he’s a coward. He’s a bad enemy, so watch your back.’

Chapter 1

T he trip seemed endless. Kaylene felt very insignificant against the vast horizon as she drove along the Stuart Highway as it cut through the outback of South Australia. She was alone, her destination, the heart of the Woomera district.

She had left Victoria the previous day, under a great deal of apprehension. The journey would take at least fourteen hours and it gave her the time needed to visualize her future, also to dwell on the past.

Since leaving the motel at Port Augusta at 9am that morning, the pretty young blonde had become decidedly uncomfortable as the inland temperature rose steadily. She delayed using the air-conditioning in the faint hope it would save petrol. Service stations were few and far between along this lonely highway.

She pondered on the past six years, as her vehicle hummed along past spinifex and gnarled, stunted trees, towards her destination, which was 120 kilometres south of the opal town of Coober Pedy.

Was it really only six years ago that she met Warren, the man in her life? He worked for an entrepreneur whose wealth had been accumulated by many and varied sources and she had sneaking suspicion they were not always honest. She had answered an advertisement for a Childcare Centre Directress and obtained an appointment of interview. She had worked as a careworker for the previous four years after leaving school at age seventeen.

Warren, the firm’s manager, conducted the interview, and she was not quite sure whether it was her beauty or her ability that made him employ her, but she was very excited to be given the position. The only drawback was that the centre had not been completed yet. The job entailed helping to design the floorplan for it. Warren’s employer John McIver had built a market and the centre was to adjoin a small café nearby. It was to be completed in two months during which time Kaylene would be employed to obtain health permits, relevant council permits, and to collaborate with an architect of her choosing to design toilet facilities suitable for toddlers.

She was attracted to Warren from the beginning. He was a tall distinguished-looking man with a smattering of grey through his very dark hair. A born salesman with a wonderful smile, he embraced his listeners with words and lulled them into his way of thinking. Although he was fifteen years her senior she was not immune to his charms. He was in his middle thirties, and divorced, with no children. Kaylene was a complete innocent in comparison, with little experience with men, despite her twenty years. Orphaned at sixteen, she had lived for four years with a maiden aunt who encouraged her to concentrate on a career, boys could come later.

Warren offered to take her to dinner shortly after employing her, to discuss her duties with the firm. He called for her later that evening and presented her with a bunch of red roses. They drove to an exclusive French restaurant in Ferntree Gully, where he ordered their meal in fluent French.

‘Do you always treat intended employees so lavishly, Mr Healey or do you have an ulterior motive?’ she asked cheekily, as the waiter poured their wine.

‘This is all on my unlimited expense account. John McIver doesn’t like to be thought of as cheap. He desperately wants the centre to go ahead. He never leaves anything to chance. Since having the market built, he has had an efficiency expert advise him, and it seems that the best money-spinners are young mothers. So John had the market walkways designed to barely cope with prams and pushers, and this can only encourage mothers to use the crèche, to enable them to shop in comfort.’ He smiled as he caught her eyes across the rim of his wine glass. ‘Not that my job doesn’t have great side benefits; how else could I get a beautiful young girl to go out with me?’

She blushed, when he caught her admiring the smattering of grey at his temples, against the darkness of his eyes and hair.

‘You don’t have to flatter me, Mr Healey, I’ve already accepted the position. Isn’t that what we’re here to discuss?’

‘Warren’s the name. If we have to work together we might as well use Christian names. You have no objection to that, do you, Kaylene?’

Her name hung in the air between them. She nodded her consent, before asking about their employer’s expectations of her. He filled her in on her duties. She would be responisible for the purchase of nursery furniture, and he would supervise the erection of a firewall that would divide the two establishments. She would also have a free hand choosing an architect to design the centre’s floor plan. This would entail the couple spending quite some time together until the project was completed.

‘Before we go any further, tell me about your boss. It seems strange that I didn’t meet him. What’s he like?’ she asked.

Warren’s soft manner suddenly converted to an electric dynamo, at the mention of his employer.

‘John’s a great bloke. The only reason he didn’t meet you is because he’s always so busy. I don’t know how he stays sane. He has numerous factories all over Melbourne, and God knows how many interstate. He’s a self-made man, started with nothing and now he’s worth millions!’ he exclaimed proudly.

‘How long have you worked for him?’ she asked.

‘Only a year or so, but I’ve learnt a lot from him. He’s helped me out more than once.’

‘He sounds more like a friend than an employer. He must be a very special man.’

‘One of the best,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘If I stick with him, I could end up in full control of his operations. I’m his right hand man now. You see John’s very overweight, too much good living I suppose, and he’s already had a minor heart-attack, so he has to take things easy, not that he does, but he’s slowly giving me more responsibility and authority.’

By the time Warren dropped Kaylene off at her flat she knew all about John McIver Enterprises but very little about her escort. His enormous drive and ambition was obvious. There was no doubt that this man would achieve any goal to which he set his mind.

It was almost two weeks before Kaylene met her employer. She had applied successfully for health permits and had purchased tiny tables and chairs, appropriate for the centre. She was now about to help design the building. Her enthusiasm was such that she had already discussed details with the archetect before she was invited to meet John McIver.

She stood nervously outside the plush office, listening to the deep voice behind the door. It was a one-sided conversation, obviously a phonecall.

‘. . . I can’t be stuffed about like this. My time’s money, Mate. Get together with Warren. He knows what I want, but if the material’s not delivered by Monday, cancel the whole bloody order. We’ll find another supplier!’

Without further speech the phone was heard to hit its cradle, then the tone of voice changed as she heard him say into an intercom, ‘Send Kaylene Scott in please, Faye. Hold any calls for a few minutes.’

Kaylene was overawed by the huge bulk of a man behind the equally huge desk. He had an Afro hairdo and a bushy beard that almost covered his face. Dark piercing blue eyes smiled out at her, in stark contrast to the unruly dark hair.

‘Come in, Kaylene. Sit down. Sorry I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you before this. Seems you’re every bit as efficient as Warren stated. Now let’s get straight down to business.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr McIver. There are a few things I’d like to go over with you about the Centre. I’ve already engaged an architect to design the floor plan. This is it,’ she said, passing a rolled plan across the table to him. ‘How do you intend to handle the financial part of the project? Do you want me to employ staff?’

‘Leave it to Warren. You’ll be reimbursed for any money you outlay. You’ll be the Director and you can let Warren know how many helpers you’ll need. I don’t intend to be bogged down with details. You know best what the laws are pertaining to amount of staff per ratio of children, etc. I’m sure we’ll get along famously. Now if you have any worries, talk to Warren, he’ll sort them out.’

The enormous man heaved his bulk from the chair and stood up, looking like a black bear in clothing. His attitude inferred that the meeting was at a close, Kaylene dismissed. He slowly ambled around his desk, escorting her to the door. ‘We should have this show on the road within six weeks, to the mutual satisfaction of everyone. I’ll be in touch.’

Outside the office Kaylene was surprised that she hadn’t been annoyed at his abrupt dismissal of her. For all his unusual appearance there was a strange charisma about him that instilled confidence in his ability to control his empire.

Her relationship with Warren was partially responsible for her blind confidence as well. He hero-worshipped the man and hoped to emulate his life-style eventually.

Kaylene and Warren enjoyed working together and through their work they became inseparable. Warren charmed her from the first day. His easy, self-assured manner and romantic overtures soon had her drifting in a haze of contentment.

*     *     *

A flock of emu raced across the lonely highway in front of Kaylene’s car, causing her mind to return abruptly to the present. The nostalgic daydream had occurred three years beforehand, and now she pushed it to the back of her mind to concentrate on the road ahead as it carried her through the heart of the Woomera Rocket Range.

The year was 1988 and the Australian outback had received a record deluge of rain a few weeks before Kaylene’s journey, and as the hours fled by, she was amazed to see the scenery changing from ochre-red ironstone fields, to a haze of brilliant hues of lilac, yellow and crimson which became masses of wildflowers. This was completely opposite to anything she had imagined when she had finally relented and agreed to go to Mirikata. Deserts were not supposed to be places of beauty. It was hard to imagine anyone dying of thirst out here, and yet she’d had it impressed upon her before she set out on her lone trip, to carry spare oil, water and petrol if she intended to survive the journey.

The midday sun suddenly illuminated a roadsign ahead. It read, ‘PIMBA HOTEL 2 Ks AHEAD. MEALS and TAKE AWAYS.’ Only then did she realise she was hungry. She turned off to the hotel, a lowset building, with wide verandahs that threw cool shadows all around. Before stopping she noticed a Public Convenience sign nearby and pulled in alongside what looked like an enormous concrete water tank.

That’s exactly what it was; an over-sized water tank. The interior was divided into cubicles containing toilets. A sign above a wash-basin warned patrons to conserve water.

Kaylene gazed at her wilted image in the flyspecked mirror, Above the rust stained basin, she irritably brushed away a fat blowfly that buzzed persistently about her face. She frowned at the image confronting her and murmured, ‘What the hell are you doing here, you fool? It must be over forty degrees. How much hotter can it get? What if my car breaks down before I reach this God-forsaken place? They’ll find my skeleton under the car eventually. I haven’t seen a decent tree since I left Adelaide.’

She splashed some water on her handkerchief and rubbed it around the nape of her neck as she sauntered towards the hotel.

Only one other vehicle stood in the car park as she mounted the steps to the verandah and entered a lounge bar that reminded her of an old cowboy movie. Two young men were playing pool at one end of the long empty room. Neither spoke as the clang of meeting balls echoed above the drone of two huge ceiling fans. The younger of the two, looked lazily in Kaylene’s direction, before concentrating on his shot.

There was no bar attendant so Kaylene stood at the counter and tapped her long nails on an ashtray hoping to attract someone’s attention. It didn’t. Five minutes passed and she began to feel totally invisible. She coughed discretely when she heard voices coming from the adjoining room. Still no notice was taken of her.

She was about to leave when one of the pool-players called, ‘Hey Harry! You’ve got a customer out here. No wonder the bloody joint’s goin’ broke!’

A thin middle-aged man hurried through the swinging doors. Kaylene smiled her thanks at the young man.

‘Didn’t know ya was ’ere, love. What can I getcha?’ the newcomer asked, wiping his hands on a grubby apron tied around his waist.

‘I’d like something to eat please. Perhaps a steak sandwich and a cold soft drink,’ she answered. He hurried back to the kitchen without another word.

Once served, she was happy to return to her car, fill it with petrol and continue her journey. The lack of friendliness did nothing to alleviate her apprehension about this outback venture.

By her calculations she was approximately 300 kilometres from her destination. She switched on the air-conditioner as the interior heat became more unbearable. The road stretched endlessly, shimmering like water on the horizon.

It was as though Kaylene was completely alone in this vast land. Her car radio fading in and out as she skirted small country radio stations. No sign of human life apart from the various road-trains, gigantic trucks with an extra trailer towed behind. Every time one passed, her small vehicle rocked hazardously.

The radio finally gave out, leaving her to contemplate more thoroughly her reason for being where she was.

Chapter 2

K aylene believed that her dreams had come true when John McIver made her Director of his planned Daycare Centre, and Warren became her first lover. He made her feel womanly and wise, so rather than declare her innocence, she allowed him to seduce her. Their romance was comfortable if not exciting. They were good friends with many mutual interests. He was not a demanding lover, but their unions always left her frustrated and unfulfilled but with no earlier relationships, there was nothing with which to compare.

But the euphoria of her new life was not to last. The week before the opening of the Daycare Centre, Warren phoned her at home and asked her to meet him for dinner. She took great care with her appearance, choosing a one-shouldered emerald green chiffon creation, knowing the colour emphasized the green of her eyes. She knew in her heart that he wanted them to celebrate the completion of their hard work. He would probably ceremoniously hand her the key to the Centre during the meal. He enjoyed pomp and ceremony.

On arrival at the restaurant he complimented her on her appearance but seemed preoccupied. She was used to him hiding his feelings so she chose to ignore her instinct and occupied her thoughts with futuristic thoughts of being in control of a Creche. Once seated at their table, Warren took her hand in his. He studied her fingers as though they would give him the strength to reveal his reason for this impulsive outing. His eyes still lowered, he said, ‘Darling, I have something to tell you. Now don’t get upset, but I’m afraid things at the market have changed somewhat and you won’t be the Director of the Centre after all.’

Kaylene was sure her ears had deceived her. He had to be joking. The opening was next week. She’d worked without wages on this project for eight weeks. She’d paid the architect from her savings and was almost two thousand dollars out-of-pocket on the purchase of furniture. What right did they have to burst her bubble?

‘What? Isn’t it ready? And what do you mean, I won’t be Director?’

There were a thousand questions waiting to tumble from her mouth when Warren held his hand up for silence in that infuriating way he favored.

‘It can’t be helped I’m afraid. John’s partner objected to him hiring you for the job. He wants his own wife to run the Centre. If you like I could arrange for you to work there,’ he finished lamely.

She stared at him as she would a germ under a microscope. ‘Whose suggestion was that, yours or John’s? How can you be so casual about this? You know how much that Centre meant to me! Since when has John had a partner anyway? This is the first I’ve heard of one. How come you never mentioned it before?’

‘He has a few business associates. There’s no point kicking up about it, Kaylene, it was a commercial decision, it’s not personal. That’s how he makes his money.’

‘Not personal! You’re defending him! What about the money and time I put into this? What about the permits I arranged? I can’t believe he can just write me off like that. I’ll sue him!’ she stated emphatically.

Again Warren lowered his eyes as he said softly, ‘I’m afraid you can’t. You signed no contracts. It’s your word against his. I’ll see to it that you’re reimbursed for your time and money.’

‘That’s hardly the point, Warren,’ she snapped, fighting back tears of rage. ‘My whole world is collapsing around my ears and you think reimbursement would satisfy me! This wasn’t only a job to me; it was my future career, and you’re defending Mr High-and-Mighty McIver. Doesn’t he care who he uses, and why didn’t he have the intestinal fortitude to tell me himself?’

‘Lower your voice, Darling, people are staring,’ he warned, embarrassment flushing his face. ‘I’m not defending him. I know you’re hurt, but his hands are tied, and he’s a busy man. He pays me to . . .’

‘. . . do his dirty work!’ she finished for him. ‘Take me home right now please. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.’ She grabbed her handbag and flounced towards the exit, leaving her bewildered partner to placate the waiter and pay for their un-eaten meal.

He found her two blocks away, with tears streaming down her face. He drew her into his arms and whispered against her hair, ‘I know you’re disappointed, Darling, but it’ll be all right, you’ll see. If you’d move into my house you wouldn’t need to work, I’d look after you. Haven’t you had enough of screaming kids?’

She was too mortified to argue further with him. He didn’t want to understand that her work was her life; he would never understand.

‘Just take me home . . . my home not yours. We’ve had this discussion before, Warren. I have no intentions of living with you; it would break Aunty Beryl’s heart. She’s been wonderful to me and she’s old-fashioned about couples ‘living in sin’.’

That night was the turning point in their relationship. Kaylene could not understand Warren’s acceptance of his employer’s commercial decision. Her respect for him waned slightly. Their outings became more habit than deep friendship as before. She returned reluctantly to her former Group Leader position full-time, after having received time off to complete the Centre.

Two years later her Aunt Beryl died and left Kaylene a modest income and a rambling old house in Ferntree Gully. Warren no longer invited or hinted that he would like her to live with him. He had become a workaholic, who would often cancel dates with her at the last minute. She carried a deep resentment for John McIver because he had never attempted to apologize to her for the promises he had broken. Every time Warren praised him, she cringed inside. He was aware of her dislike of John so soon avoided talking about him in her presence.

*     *     *

Kaylene was suddenly startled back to the present as an enormous eagle lifted up from the tarmac in front of her windscreen with a bloody hunk of meat hanging from its talons. She had to swerve to miss the splattered remains