Part 16 (1/2)

The threatened storm finally hit, cras.h.i.+ng and raging over the house, the beating rain on the tin roof drowning Olivia's fitful breathing and sad cries.

By morning, the storm had pa.s.sed. Olivia was now sleeping calmly and a weary Tyndall slipped from the room, giving Minnie instructions to watch over her.

The town was stirring, but everything seemed different in the light of the night's events. When Tyndall reached his home he was met by a tearful Niah, cradling their baby, whom they'd called Maya.

He held her for a moment then drew back and touched the cheek of the sleeping child. 'I've been with Olivia. She's in shock.' He ran his fingers through his hair. 'Have you seen Ahmed?'

Niah shook her head. 'Tuan and Mem Metta come and tell me what happened. I see no one.'

Tyndall stood quietly for a few moments, thinking, then poured himself a strong whisky. 'Run a bath for me please, Niah.'

'You very tired. Need sleep.'

'Later. A few things to be done yet.'

They exchanged brief smiles and Niah went to the bathroom. Tyndall headed for the verandah, where he sat looking, but not seeing, as he pondered the complexities of his world, a world that had changed dramatically overnight.

He was dressing after his bath when Niah came into the bedroom.

'Minnie come with message, John.'

'I'll see her in a moment. See that she's comfortable, Niah.'

'No stay. Leave message. Ahmed down near foresh.o.r.e camp with Minnie's mob.'

Tyndall dressed in work clothes and walked nonchalantly to his deserted foresh.o.r.e camp. He pottered for a few minutes then checked to see if anyone was around before walking quickly by the fringe of mangroves and into the bush. From the upstairs verandah of the shed's crew room he had seen a wisp of smoke from a campfire.

He found the camp in a few minutes, a temporary and shabby collection of humpies made from sheets of rusted roofing iron, sacks and old canvas. The ground was still wet from the night's deluge and the humpies dripped on huddled families. He exchanged greetings in their language and joined a couple of old men sitting on logs arranged under a banyan tree. He offered them cigarettes and they smiled in grat.i.tude and lit up.

After a few minutes Ahmed walked into the camp accompanied by an Aboriginal man with a spear. He squatted down with the group at the banyan tree and silently took a cigarette offered by Tyndall. His face was drawn and sad.

After a few puffs on the cigarette he spoke in Malay. 'Sorry, tuan. I let him get too far ahead of me. I was too slow. Was hard to see what was happening in bad light.'

Tyndall reached out and put his hand on his off-sider's shoulder. 'I'm sure you did your best, Ahmed. It was very thoughtful of you to make the effort to follow Conrad. Glad you got the b.a.s.t.a.r.d anyway. Problem is, it amounts to murder. Did anyone see you?'

'No. Don't think so. Not close anyway.'

Tyndall drew thoughtfully on his cigarette. 'Have you told anyone what happened?'

'No. But this mob know things, you know these fellas. Just know things.'

'Yeah. But they're not going to talk ... not to anyone in the law.' Tyndall stamped his cigarette b.u.t.t into the mud and put his arm around Ahmed's shoulder. 'I'm going back to the shed. In a few minutes you come along. Just act normal. Say nothing about the affair. Just tell anyone who asks that you spent the night with the mob here. Right?'

Ahmed nodded.

Tyndall had a few words with the men under the tree, shook hands and left.

They spent an hour at the shed and the boats, making out to be checking security, then both went into town. The news of the double murder had taken the heat out of the conflict and the warring factions had gone to ground. Shops were opening again and the hotel bars were packed with men exchanging news and gossip. Tyndall knew he would be expected to turn up at the bars favoured by the pearling masters. He also wanted to hear their version of events.

There was little mention of the dead Koepanger, and even less about who killed him. All the talk was about Conrad and all of the men wanted to reinforce their expressions of sympathy with a drink.

It was late in the day when Tyndall staggered to the office quite drunk and fell asleep.

Sergeant O'Leary knew what he needed ... a few shots of brandy. It had been a nasty twenty-four hours. Three killings, one a white man and that was bad. A lot of injuries, mainly to Asians and that really wasn't a concern, some minor property damage, and a lot of scared whites. Thank G.o.d someone killed the b.u.g.g.e.r who did in Hennessy. Asian, according to the j.a.ps. Probably a Malay. Not that it helped much even if they were right. Town was full of them. And they'll all have an iron-clad alibi.

O'Leary was an Irish adventurer who had found his way to Australia via a stint with the police force in colonial India, serving the white raj. He had been a city policeman in Fremantle and Perth before taking a post with the mounted police in the north-west. He'd gone north largely out of curiosity and a love of adventure, but found the outback was addictive. He often talked about leaving, but never got around to doing it. Holidays in the south had always left him yearning to get back to the town he now called home. After ten years and a couple of promotions he was respected by whites as a tough but wise administrator of the law. He was feared more than respected by the Asians and Aborigines.

Paperwork was not his strong point. Sean O'Leary worked hard at applying the law in ways that reduced paperwork and court appearances. His boot and fists helped enormously to this end. And it was the paperwork a.s.sociated with the recent events that bothered him. It could not be eliminated, but it could be limited.

Tyndall awoke to find Sergeant O'Leary at his desk, feet up and drinking whisky.

'I was going to give you five more minutes, enough for another drink, then I was going to wake you from your beauty sleep. Fact is, John, I needed a few quiet moments to reflect on this and that. It's been a hard day again.'

Tyndall dragged himself to a chair. 'Do you mind?' he asked, reaching for the bottle.

'Not at all, mate. It's your whisky after all.'

'Is it?' said Tyndall vaguely. He poured a half gla.s.s and raised it to the policeman, who raised his gla.s.s in salute. They both drank.

'On duty or off duty?' asked Tyndall casually.

'Off duty, despite the uniform.'

The two men were much alike, though O'Leary was old enough to be Tyndall's father. They came from the same country, and it was this link to the Emerald Isle that had brought them together as occasional drinking partners at hotels, in the office after work, or sometimes in each other's home. O'Leary used Tyndall to keep in touch with what was happening in the pearling scene. Tyndall knew that, but it didn't bother him. He knew how to be discreet.

'How did Mrs Hennessy take it?' O'Leary enquired.

'Poorly. As you'd expect. It will take some time for her to get over it.'

'Aye, it will t'be sure. A terrible thing is the murder of a white man. But at least we're spared the agony of the killer's trial. He got what he deserved.'

'I'll drink to that.'

They both raised their gla.s.ses, then O'Leary leaned forward and poured them both another drink.

'Rather odd, don't you think, that Koepanger having his throat cut at the scene. Suggests that someone was following him ... or Hennessy.'

Tyndall stiffened slightly, and tried to cover his reaction by taking a long swig of his drink. But O'Leary had noticed the reaction. 'Maybe. Hadn't thought much about it.'

'The j.a.ps tell me that it was an Asian. Probably a Malay.' The policeman sipped at his gla.s.s. 'Ahmed around?'

Tyndall was now on his guard. He answered neutrally. 'Yep. Turned up for work this morning. Checked the shed and boats, then I sent him off.'

'Toby Metta tells me that he gave Hennessy some pearls before the murder. They weren't on the body. Now what do you make of that?'

'Sounds like robbery. d.a.m.ned big loss,' said Tyndall, trying to sound genuinely upset.

'Of course. And you were going to mention this business of the pearls to me, were you not?'