Pay Dirt

SIXTEEN

After meeting with Tobin, Wyatt and Leah went back to the caryards on Main North Road and bought a twelve-year-old Holden utility. Wyatt wanted a vehicle that wouldn’t attract too much attention out in the bush.

The next day they went shopping at supermarkets and army disposal stores before driving north to the hideout. They bought four camp stretchers and sleeping bags, a two-ring camping stove and fuel, enamel cups, disposable plates and cutlery, two shovels, a portable shower, a chemical toilet, lanterns, candles and tinned and dried food. Everything was going to be buried before they left the farm. Wyatt didn’t intend to leave a single clue that they’d been there-no tracks, no garbage, no equipment that might identify them or tie them to the Steelgard hit.

They also bought four radios. Snyder was supplying a powerful unit to monitor the Steelgard van, but Wyatt wanted hand-held VHF/FM transceivers for communication in the field. He bought marine-band transceivers, assuming that no one in the bush would be listening in on that band.

The next few days would be a waiting game-waiting for Thursday, when they would show Tobin the layout, waiting for next Monday to meet Snyder, waiting for the Steelgard hit itself. It didn’t matter that Snyder would miss the trial run. What mattered was feedback from Tobin. Would Tobin think it feasible that the Steelgard van could be carted away? Would he be able to find them a truck that would do the job? Would the narrow roads pose a problem? Were the sheds at the farm too small?

Wyatt lived with these questions in the early part of that week, not because he wanted to but because Leah was there. She was keyed up, anxious to do the job, looking at it from all the angles. Wyatt was calmer about it. He knew what the problems were, but they couldn’t be answered until Tobin saw the layout, so there was no point in worrying until then. When he was working, Wyatt was concentrated and deliberate in all he did. He knew how to wait. He became remote and self-contained, which people often interpreted as arrogance. It was as if a small, chilling draft came off him. But he knew he had this effect on people, and because it was Leah there with him, he made an effort. He looked thoughtful when she raised objections about the job. He discussed the ins and outs with her. It kept them going. It kept up the harmony.

Not that they didn’t have plenty to do. Leah made shopping runs into neighbouring towns-never the same town twice-to buy daily essentials like milk, eggs, bread, butter, fruit, meat and vegetables. While she was shopping Wyatt explored the possible exits from the farm. If something went wrong with this job, if they had to get out in a hurry, it would not be by the road leading to the property. That’s where the trouble would be coming from.

First he checked the track leading back into the hills. He followed it all the way. At times it seemed to peter out, but he always picked it up again. It wound along the valley, around the edge of the hills, and eventually came out onto a secondary road on the other side of the range. He confirmed his earlier impression that it was passable to most vehicles.

But it wasn’t the only exit. If both roads were ever cut off there were the hills themselves. An agile person could make good progress on the smooth slopes. The grass wasn’t too high or dense. The main danger would come from hidden quartz reefs, rabbit holes and tussocks, all of them ankle-sprainers. There was also a reasonable degree of cover-the grass itself, creeks and erosion channels, rocky outcrops, solitary trees, their trunks rubbed smooth by forgotten sheep and cattle. From time to time he climbed to high ground. He was making a mental map of the area, marking topographical features, roads, neighbouring farms and the tin-hut corner, but being high up also gave him a sensation of unconquerability. He put it down to the clean, perfumed air, the blue and olive hills, the wind in the tossing grasses. At other times Leah made him lie with her in the sun. When he was working he tended to forget about sex for long periods, so when she drew him by the hand and began to undress him, he would blink, surprised and gratified.

They also made two survey trips of the district. They had the maps, but maps are never sufficient. Wyatt couldn’t work without pictures in his head. He liked to know about culverts, road signs, bends hidden by trees or farm buildings, overhanging branches, road edges churned and eroded by heavy vehicles, stretches rendered slow or impassable by potholes, sharp stones or washaways.

On Thursday morning they drove to Burra, a town that had grown prosperous on Merino wool after the copper mines had closed down. It had started as a cluster of separate townships on low hills, but they had amalgamated over time. The houses were built of local stone. Huge gums grew along the creek. Two-storey pubs with wrought iron verandahs and vines faced the town square, and the Cornish miners’ cottages in the back streets had been tarted up for the tourists. There were two tourist buses parked outside the tiny museum when Wyatt and Leah arrived. A short distance away they found Tobin.

He was leaning against his delivery van, a bulky Ford painted iridescent blue, its doors and side panels decorated with gold curlicues. He was smoking, watching the locals through his orange lenses. Wyatt noted the way Tobin ignored the men. He was interested only in the women. When a woman walked by, he took the cigarette from his mouth and swivelled his head after her, his mouth hanging open. Leah saw it too, as they got out of the ute and approached him. ‘Lovely bloke.’

‘We’re not interested in his personality,’ Wyatt said.

‘I am. The other day I could feel his eyes all over me. He’s the sort who has sweaty hands.’

Tobin saw them approaching and stopped lounging. He threw down his cigarette and grinned. All Wyatt could see of Tobin’s face were the grin, the cricketer’s moustache and the reflection of himself and Leah in the orange lenses.

It’s all psychology, Wyatt thought, working with men like Tobin. Talk their language and you’re halfway there. ‘Good run down?’ he asked.

Tobin slapped the side of his van. ‘Home to here in just under two hours,’ he said. ‘I already unloaded.’ He counted on his fingers: ‘Case of Scotch, latest release videos, souvenirs for the Tourist Centre.’

Wyatt looked at the van. The windows were smoky black; he couldn’t see inside them.

‘What time we getting back here?’ Tobin asked. ‘I got to deliver spare parts to a car place in Goyder this arvo.’

‘About twelve-thirty.’

Tobin rubbed his hands together. ‘No worries then. Let’s hit the road.’

They squeezed together into the Holden utility and left Burra heading north-west. It was ten-thirty. At eleven o’clock they picked up the Steelgard van in Vimy Ridge, Steelgard’s last stop before Belcowie. They tailed it out of the town, staying well back. The traffic was sparse, as it had been the previous week. The only road dust was coming from the van ahead of them.

‘What do you think?’ Wyatt asked.

Tobin was sitting against the passenger door on the other side of Leah his head inclined toward the windscreen. Wyatt was aware of Tobin’s excitement. He’s getting a kick out of this, he thought. The van, the money, Leah’s leg against his.

‘What do I think? I expected a bigger van. This is going to be easy.’

‘You can shift it all right?’

‘No worries.’

‘What if it shuts down-motor, brakes, locks, electrical system?’

‘Cut the brake lines and winch her in,’ Tobin said.

He turned to face Wyatt as he said it. His back was against the door how, and he’d extended his arm along the top of the seat. His fingers were curled close to Leah’s shoulder. Wyatt felt her move away from him.

‘The next problem is,’ Leah said to both of them, ‘will the short cut be too narrow to take a truck?’

Tobin was an uneducated man. Like many men who work at practical jobs, he relied on physical gestures to supplement speech. Wyatt glanced away from the road for a moment, to see how Tobin would answer this question, and saw an elaborate play of shoulders, mouth and hands, Tobin’s way of saying, ‘You got me there.’

Ahead of them the dust cloud swirled and changed direction. Good-the van was using the short cut again. Wyatt waited for ten minutes before he turned in after it. They followed the track to where it met the main road again, four kilometres north of Belcowie. Wyatt stopped. ‘Well?’

‘No worries,’ Tobin said.

He said it again thirty minutes later when they showed him the farm buildings. ‘No worries. You could hide a bloody ship in here.’

He grinned at them. He had the orange shades on. Wyatt knew he was looking at Leah’s breasts. ‘So,’ Tobin said, ‘am I in? Is it a goer?’

‘That depends. We still need a low-loader or a breakdown truck, one that can’t be traced back to us.’

Tobin actually tapped his nose knowingly. ‘Let me take care of that. So, am I in?’

Wyatt nodded.

Tobin stuck out his hand and shook Wyatt’s enthusiastically. Then he put his arm around Leah and squeezed her. It was brief, as if it meant nothing, but he looked at Wyatt while he did it, and Wyatt knew the gesture meant everything.