Caucasian. Any more than that was purely guesswork. That left five on Greg’s list. Out of the corner of his eye, Cato could see that Jim Buckley had his feet on the desk and was flicking through the day’s newspaper with its lurid ‘We’re all doomed, doomed I tell ye’ headlines. He didn’t seem to be reading anything; he was miles away.
Cato returned to his list. A missing Perth businessman, thirtyeight; last seen in a gay nightclub in Northbridge about a year ago. It had been a bit of a surprise to his wife who was now grieving a little less than she might otherwise have been. Italian background, Carlo Donizetti, medium height and build; a possibility? He scanned further down. One leaped out at him. Two years ago, a Royal Australian Navy frigate had come into the south-coast port of Albany after picking up a sick harpoonist from a Japanese whaler in the Southern Ocean. Heart attack. Cato remembered it on the news at the time. Otherwise kindly humanitarian conservationistsprotesting loudly that they should have left the bastard to die. The navy ship had been on joint exercises with the Indonesian, Singaporean, Thai, and Malaysian forces. An Indonesian sailor had been seconded aboard the Australian frigate. Lieutenant Riri Yusala. Twenty-five years old. Medium height. Slim build. He’d jumped ship after two days in Albany. Since declared an illegal immigrant but authorities were also hedging their bets by expressing ‘concern for his welfare’. Albany, a hop and skip from Hopetoun, west along the South Coast Highway. Cato studied the picture. Smooth complexion and boyish face; he looked well-fed and affluent. He had an education. He also had a wife and two young kids. Nothing concrete; it was pure instinct that had Cato’s heart beating faster. Riri Yusala.
‘Why did you jump ship and where did you go?’ wondered Cato. ‘And is that you in the cold box on the morning flight to Perth?’
7
Thursday, October 9th. Late morning.
Tess was in a filthy mood as Greg Fisher bumped the paddy wagon through another of the huge potholes left by the previous week’s heavy rain and turned into the dogleg on Mason Bay Road. She had been silent and irritable the whole journey. It wasn’t Don Rundle the whingeing Pom. It was Cato Kwong the infuriating ex. Swanning in like nothing had happened between them and everything was okay as long as you didn’t face up to it. True, he had raised the subject when they were out on the groyne but it was obviously on his TO DO list between BUY TOOTHPASTE and SOLVE MURDER. Item 6: Make Tess Miraculously Forget that I’m a Bastard Because I Left Her and Still Haven’t Told Her Why. Tick. Sorted. Then move back on to the business at hand with everybody la-la happy. She snorted and Greg gave her a funny look.
A construction team was working on a pipeline that stretched north through the low dusty scrub as far as the eye could see. She knew it snaked about twenty kilometres to the mine. In the other direction, south, it would finish its journey at Mason Bay at a fencedoff compound just along from the campsite. According to the sign by the side of the road, this was the pipeline for the new desalination plant which would deliver all of the nickel mine’s substantial fresh water needs. Tess surveyed the landscape. Gently rolling coastal scrub topped by a huge blue sky.
‘Bloody beautiful isn’t it?’ said Fisher, voicing her thoughts. She nodded and he obviously took it as a cue to expand.
‘But most of the mob from these parts left about a hundred years ago. They’re Auntie Daisy’s mob, on my mum’s side. They were driven out by a massacre after one of your “pioneers” was speared. Auntie Daisy said it was to persuade the dirty little bugger to leave the young Nyungar girls alone.’
Tess had been only half-listening but she began to tune in; this was the first time she’d heard an alternative take on the local history since she’d come to town.
‘Yeah, he died so they
Cato returned to his list. A missing Perth businessman, thirtyeight; last seen in a gay nightclub in Northbridge about a year ago. It had been a bit of a surprise to his wife who was now grieving a little less than she might otherwise have been. Italian background, Carlo Donizetti, medium height and build; a possibility? He scanned further down. One leaped out at him. Two years ago, a Royal Australian Navy frigate had come into the south-coast port of Albany after picking up a sick harpoonist from a Japanese whaler in the Southern Ocean. Heart attack. Cato remembered it on the news at the time. Otherwise kindly humanitarian conservationistsprotesting loudly that they should have left the bastard to die. The navy ship had been on joint exercises with the Indonesian, Singaporean, Thai, and Malaysian forces. An Indonesian sailor had been seconded aboard the Australian frigate. Lieutenant Riri Yusala. Twenty-five years old. Medium height. Slim build. He’d jumped ship after two days in Albany. Since declared an illegal immigrant but authorities were also hedging their bets by expressing ‘concern for his welfare’. Albany, a hop and skip from Hopetoun, west along the South Coast Highway. Cato studied the picture. Smooth complexion and boyish face; he looked well-fed and affluent. He had an education. He also had a wife and two young kids. Nothing concrete; it was pure instinct that had Cato’s heart beating faster. Riri Yusala.
‘Why did you jump ship and where did you go?’ wondered Cato. ‘And is that you in the cold box on the morning flight to Perth?’
7
Thursday, October 9th. Late morning.
Tess was in a filthy mood as Greg Fisher bumped the paddy wagon through another of the huge potholes left by the previous week’s heavy rain and turned into the dogleg on Mason Bay Road. She had been silent and irritable the whole journey. It wasn’t Don Rundle the whingeing Pom. It was Cato Kwong the infuriating ex. Swanning in like nothing had happened between them and everything was okay as long as you didn’t face up to it. True, he had raised the subject when they were out on the groyne but it was obviously on his TO DO list between BUY TOOTHPASTE and SOLVE MURDER. Item 6: Make Tess Miraculously Forget that I’m a Bastard Because I Left Her and Still Haven’t Told Her Why. Tick. Sorted. Then move back on to the business at hand with everybody la-la happy. She snorted and Greg gave her a funny look.
A construction team was working on a pipeline that stretched north through the low dusty scrub as far as the eye could see. She knew it snaked about twenty kilometres to the mine. In the other direction, south, it would finish its journey at Mason Bay at a fencedoff compound just along from the campsite. According to the sign by the side of the road, this was the pipeline for the new desalination plant which would deliver all of the nickel mine’s substantial fresh water needs. Tess surveyed the landscape. Gently rolling coastal scrub topped by a huge blue sky.
‘Bloody beautiful isn’t it?’ said Fisher, voicing her thoughts. She nodded and he obviously took it as a cue to expand.
‘But most of the mob from these parts left about a hundred years ago. They’re Auntie Daisy’s mob, on my mum’s side. They were driven out by a massacre after one of your “pioneers” was speared. Auntie Daisy said it was to persuade the dirty little bugger to leave the young Nyungar girls alone.’
Tess had been only half-listening but she began to tune in; this was the first time she’d heard an alternative take on the local history since she’d come to town.
‘Yeah, he died so they
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