Indonesian Gold (35 page)

When the man had joined their group in Jakarta he had
reeked of alcohol. The three-man expatriate drilling team had troubled him at first, but once
they had arrived at the site and settled down to the task at hand, he dismissed earlier concerns,
relieved that the drilling was proceeding without any meaningful incident. He was, however, aware
that these men had brought a substantial supply of alcohol to the site. When it became obvious to
Baird that the drillers' stocks had been depleted, the men's surly behavior prompted Baird to
seek Sharon's approval to send Mardidi back to Samarinda in one of the longboats, under the
pretext to source additional medical supplies. Mardidi had returned three days later with the
shopping complete, totally humiliated by Carl Patrick when it was discovered that he had not
purchased the specific brand of Bourbon the driller had ordered. Fortunately, Baird's
intervention prevented his companion from taking a beating, an act that would surely have
resulted in the driller's contract being terminated – and a possible walk out by all.

It was around that time that a number of Dayak village
girls had appeared seeking work. The drillers had all winked at each other, and given the
teenagers laundry and other chores to keep them occupied. The following morning, no one noticed
the absence of one of the girls until a young man discovered her badly beaten body, hidden under
bushes some distance from the drilling site. The camp atmosphere had immediately turned tense,
and the young
Penehing
men, in their thirst for revenge, had attacked the
Modang
laborers. One of the victim's fellow villagers had then stolen the expedition's inflatable
dinghy, and taken the girl back to her Longhouse. Baird recalled that the girl had been the one
singled out by the now dead driller, and wondered if the man had somehow been implicated in the
villager's demise. Whatever had happened, Baird resigned himself to never learning the truth as
the driller had overdosed himself on alcohol, his body hurriedly transported to Samarinda, for
examination and burial. The remaining two expatriate drillers, Patrick and Alderson, had become
extremely belligerent with the additional workload, Baird suspecting that they were about to
quit. When he heard Mardidi calling for him once again, wearily, he dragged his debilitated body
out of the tent and shuffled down to the excavation site to face yet another dose of drillers'
vituperation.

* * * *

Sharon Ducay remained lethargically still, standing within
the shaded area quietly observing the hostile body language exchanged between the drillers and
Baird, their voices carrying up the slope to the makeshift verandah. Overhead, the tarpaulin
flapped intermittently under occasional, dry mid-afternoon gusts and she glanced out at the
weather, discouraged by the absence of cloud. With the most economic of movements she raised a
cloth to her brow, removing minute droplets of perspiration before these could gather and flow.
Gently dabbing the nape of her neck, Sharon suppressed a sigh, reminding herself why she was
there – and the golden harvest that awaited her.

Her attention drawn back to the feuding expatriates,
Sharon revisited her decision not to remove Baird, agreeing that she had made the correct choice
– even if this had meant sacrificing harmony within the camp. To further reduce the possibility
of suspicion, Sharon had decided that it would be best to have him around the site when she
spiked the samples, and when the results were returned. She looked over at the shed which housed
the bagged material, impatient to begin, her thoughts interrupted as Baird's advancing figure
crossed into her peripheral vision.

‘What's up?' Sharon asked, nodding in the direction of the
drillers. Eric Baird came to rest under the shelter, wiped an arm across his forehead and shook
his head disconsolately.

‘They want more money,' he replied, with disgust in his
voice.

Sharon
remained standing, arms
crossed as she responded to the geologist's response. ‘How much?'

Baird licked dry, cracked lips, as if considering the
question. ‘They're demanding another grand a week.'

‘Each?' Sharon was taken aback by the drillers'
audaciousness.

‘No. A grand would cover them both.'

‘And that's it? They'll stay on until we finish up here?'
she asked.

Baird frowned. ‘You're not seriously considering giving it
to them, are you?'

Sharon
unfolded her arms and,
with fingers hooked inside the top of her trousers, shrugged resignedly. ‘Tell them we'll give
them what they ask. But,' she continued, ‘make sure they understand that this will be treated as
a bonus, to be paid only if they remain to the end of the drilling program.' She could see that
Baird was not at all happy with her decision and, without hesitation, added, ‘There will be
bonuses for all who see it through, Eric.'

Baird's frown slipped down his face, slowly turning into a
narrow grin. ‘You're all right, Sharon,' he offered, ‘they'll go for that.' He looked back down
the slope at the men, wondering how long it would be before they made other demands. ‘I'll go and
tell them now.'

Sharon
permitted Baird no more
than a few steps before calling after him.

‘Make sure they get the rest of those sample bags up into
the shed before they finish up today,' she insisted. Satisfied that Baird would see to this when
he nodded, Sharon returned to her quarters where she reexamined the most recent analysis reports
carried out by the Western Australian laboratory, then settled down to wait for the drillers'
shift to finish for the day.

****

‘Here, top this up,' Calvin Alderson held a metal mug out,
and Carl Patrick obliged, reaching over and pouring the rum carefully from cross-legged position.
Alderson took another swig, grimaced, placed the mug down and lit a cigarette, then leaned back
on one elbow as the alcohol and nicotine took effect. The temperature had not dropped noticeably
with the advance of evening, both men now resting outside their tent.

‘We should have held out for more,' Patrick
complained.

The other man considered this, scratched his unkempt hair,
and nodded in agreement. ‘Shouldn't have let that little prick take it to her. Should've gone to
her ourselves.'

Patrick squinted as his eyes roamed the camp, the late
afternoon rays piercing lofty treetops across the river. He spotted the object of their
conversation moving determinedly through the camp towards the storage shed dressed, as always, in
jodhpurs and a matching, armless, khaki jacket. He continued to observe as Sharon Ducay hesitated
before the compact building, unlocking the door and disappearing inside without so much as a
glance back. Annoyed, the driller shook his head as the door closed behind her, then dragged
heavily from deep inside his throat and spat, throwing a lump of phlegm over one
shoulder.

‘She's over there checking up on us again,' he
griped.

The other driller cast a casual glance in the direction of
the shed, and his lip curled. ‘The bitch doesn't mind showing that she doesn't trust
anyone.'

Carl Patrick sneered. ‘We ought'a rip up there, and slip
‘er one.'

Calvin Alderson's mind had already gone there. The local
laborers would not guard her back and Baird would be unlikely to intercede.

****

Unaware that the two drillers' fantasy moved dangerously
towards becoming reality, Sharon busied herself, syringe in hand, bending down to examine each of
the sample bags she would inject with the potassium cyanide gold solution. Sharon was conversant
with the three basic sampling rules involving integrity, transparency and posterity. The industry
demanded that, in order to preserve sample integrity after extracting and logging samples, these
should be placed in sealed, numbered plastic bags and dispatched as quickly as possible to an
independent assay laboratory.

Sharon
knew that she was in
danger of exceeding acceptable time parameters, but believed she could justify the delays in
sending samples away due to the difficulties arising from the isolated location – another reason
why she selected this site. As for transparency, Sharon was prepared to demonstrate to future
inspection teams that the practices carried out were in accordance with industry standards,
assured that the drillers and her assistant geologist, Baird would support the results. With
respect to the question of posterity, Sharon would provide access to all records and duplicate
samples retained on site believing that this would satisfy future inspections and potential
detractors.

Confirming that the samples matched her log, she inserted
the industrial size needle through the canvas covers, puncturing the plastic liner and releasing
the clever cocktail directly into the powdery samples through the hypodermic needle. Sharon was
particularly careful to match bag lots which would be shipped to the laboratory for testing, with
those which would be retained on site for future examination and comparison. An hour passed and,
with her task completed, Sharon placed the hypodermic and other evidence inside her leather case,
unlocked the door to leave and stepped outside, startled when confronted by the expatriate
drillers blocking her exit.

Sharon
had been in similar
situations before whilst working in African and Canadian mining camps, her eyes quickly assessing
the situation. She looked beyond the two men for help, realizing immediately that none would be
forthcoming. ‘What can I do for you gentlemen?' she challenged, mustering whatever bravado she
could.

‘Calvin ‘ere wants ya to join us for a drink.' With Carl
Patrick's slurred delivery Sharon's heart sunk; handling drunken drillers could be a difficult
task.

‘Yeah,' Alderson joined in, ‘Whaddya say?'

Sharon
knew where this was
leading. Her grip firmed on the briefcase, instinct suggesting that she use this to defend
herself against attack, abandoning this thought when reminded of the contents. Her eyes dropped
to the bottle in Alderson's hand.

‘Sure,' she said, extending her free hand, ‘why
not?'

Patrick's face cracked from ear to ear and he reached
over, pulling the bottle free from Alderson's grasp, and offering the rum to Sharon. She accepted
the alcohol with her free hand, rolling her wrist over the neck and in one continuous motion,
slammed the bottle against the shed, then stepped forward and swung the jagged remains across the
closer man's body, to within inches of his face.

‘Now get out of my way!' she hissed, adrenalin pumping as
she waved the broken bottle threateningly. ‘I mean it!' she shouted, relieved when both men shied
away.

Sharon
advanced slowly, her
confidence building as the drillers retreated. With arm extended, she made her way cautiously
around the men, walking away with an eye over her shoulder in the event they might charge.
Willing her knees not to fail her, Sharon strode across to her quarters and locked herself
inside, where she remained, considering how to resolve what might be an ongoing threat with the
drillers. The men needed women – but she could not afford another incident with the local tribes.
Also, this was not the time to alienate the drillers as they would unwittingly add further
credence to the find.

The following morning Sharon called Baird, a sulking
Alderson and an apprehensive Carl Patrick, advising the surprised trio that they could all take a
few days off, sending the expatriates down river to Samarinda where they would airfreight the
first batch of compromised samples for analyses. And, hopefully, return to complete the remaining
two-months drilling program required to substantiate the results, which Sharon was confident
would flow from the independent laboratory.

Days later, when Baird returned with the drillers, harmony
was restored to the camp, Sharon then deciding to send the men down-river on a regular basis to
reduce the possibility of future conflict.

****

Chapter Thirteen

Bandung
West Java

The auditorium burst into applause as Stewart Campbell
finished addressing those present, the intensity of their appreciation growing in crescendo as
Professor Hadi Utomo, Dean of the Faculty for Mining and Natural Resources Studies, made his way
across the dais. The audience rose, their mark of respect more directed to the ageing professor
than his esteemed guest.

‘Gentlemen and ladies,' he commenced. ‘Over the past days
we have been privileged to have witnessed…'

Angela Dau and Nani were amongst those who had attended
the closing speech, delivered by the American, Stewart Campbell.

‘Aduh, Gela!'
Nani
placed her hand on Angela Dau's and shook it with excitement.
‘He is even more handsome than
before!'

‘Sshh!'
Angela grabbed
her friend's hand, squeezing it hard.
‘Listen to what the Bapak is saying!'

‘He's looking our way!'
Nani grabbed Angela's knee with her free hand, and squeezed.