There was a board fixed to the wall nearby, with keys hanging from hooks. None of them looked small enough. One caught my eye, and I lifted it off its hook and examined it; then, with a buzz of guilty excitement, I slipped it into my pocket. I turned to the desk and found the keys to the filing cabinets in the top drawer.
The tension was getting to me now and my hand was shaking so much I could hardly fiddle the key in. How did thieves do it? Did terror give way to boredom, just another job? I found the file easily enough, flicked it open and shone the light on the final pages. WFs, all WFs; no Balls Pyramid readings there. Then I heard the crunch of a heel on broken glass. I almost cried aloud. With heart hammering, I fumbled the file back into its hanger and slid the drawer shut. Then the light snapped on, and I found myself blinking, dazzled, at the face of Constable Grant Campbell.
‘What d’you think you’re doin’, mate?’ he drawled.
‘I … Goodness, Grant, hi! You gave me a hell of a fright. Well, jeez, you won’t believe this.’ I grinned wildly at him and he didn’t smile back. ‘Well, you see … I was in here the other day, talking to Carmel, right? And she let me see the reports that Lucy did for her, on their research project. Well, she said she’d need some identification, so I gave her my driver’s licence, and she photocopied it on the machine over there. Only, we were chatting, and she forgot to give it back. I only realised tonight, and I remembered she said she was going away, and I thought I was stuffed. So, hell, I’d had a few wines, and I thought I’d better just come down here and get it back.’ I whipped out my wallet and pulled out my licence and waved it at him. ‘Sorry about the window. I’ll pay for the damage, of course.’
‘Why didn’t you contact me? I could have arranged something.’ His eyes were scanning around the room, looking for signs of disturbance.
‘Sure, yes, that’s what I should have done, of course. Sorry. I feel kind of stupid.’
‘I’ll need to take a statement.’
‘Fine, fine. Well, it was like I just said …’
‘Not here. At the station.’
‘Oh, right. Is it far?’
He gave me a grim little smile that I didn’t understand. Then he took one last look around and ushered me out by the front door. Across the road I saw Anna shrink back into the shadows, and prayed she wouldn’t try some stupid ploy to rescue me.
The police station was the bungalow next door. It was also where Grant lived. He’d heard the breaking glass while he was lying in bed reading Surfing Life. We sat in the office at the front and I dictated a statement, which he typed on his computer then printed off for me to sign. He also told me to turn out my pockets, but took no notice of Carmel’s key. I offered him a fifty-dollar note to give Carmel for her window.
‘Will that be enough, do you think? Maybe a hundred?’
‘Fifty should do. I’ll get Frank to fix it before you leave if he’s not busy. I’ll let you know what it comes to.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate that, Grant.’
‘Anything else you want to tell me?’
I shook my head.
‘I’m letting you off with a caution. I won’t call in your accomplice across the street. It might be awkward if you hadn’t agreed on your story before you set out and she told me something different.’
I mumbled something incoherent.
‘Just be thankful you’re friends of Lucy’s, mate. Now have a nice holiday and behave yourself.’
Anna caught up with me as I turned the corner. ‘Wasn’t that Grant Campbell?’
‘Yeah. He caught me red-handed.’ I told her the story, getting to the end as we climbed the steps onto our veranda.
‘Oh well, no real harm done.’
‘Not until Carmel comes back and tells him she never asked for my driver’s licence.’
‘It sounds like he’d worked that out for himself, Josh.’
I fingered the key in my pocket, telling myself to say nothing, but the feeling was like vertigo, the inevitability of falling. ‘I did get something from Carmel’s office …’ I drew it out and showed her.
‘Her car key?’
I pointed to the logo. ‘I don’t think Yamaha make cars, do they? But they do make outboard motors. I guess she has a boat.’
19
We decided to go that night, mainly because delaying would have driven us crazy, like waiting for a battle or the electric chair. We stowed what we thought we’d need in a couple of backpacks and aimed to get away before the fishermen came down to the beach. Since neither of us was a sailor, the thought of what we planned to do terrified me, especially the possibility of drowning on the reef or in the open sea, or being taken by sharks. I was starting to hope that we wouldn’t be able to find Carmel’s boat, when around three-thirty we did. The little aluminium dinghy was drawn up on the sand with a group of others, a National Parks and Wildlife Service crest helpfully painted on its side. We hauled it down to the water and piled in. The motor started without difficulty, though I had no idea how much fuel it had. We told ourselves we’d be back that evening and no one would be any the wiser.
I aimed south down the lagoon, following the shoreline, on low revs to keep the noise to a minimum. Towards the western horizon a big moon, almost full, shone through broken cloud, coating the black water with a glittery sheen. The dark bulk of the land on our left side grew higher as we approached the foothills of Mount Lidgbird. Somewhere along here Bob had turned to head out through the passage in the reef, and I was desperately wishing I’d paid more attention. He’d pointed out some feature on the shore with an ironic smile-Lovers Bay, that was it, with some Norfolk pines on the hill behind. I could just make them out now in the moonlight. Looking out to the west, I thought the sea seemed blacker, unmarked by the phosphorescent surf breaking on the reef on either side. I told Anna what I was doing, and got her to hang over the bow to watch for rocks as I turned the boat and headed straight for the moon, like a beacon. The swell gradually increased, and as we made headway out into the open sea I opened up the throttle, waiting till I felt sure we must be clear of the reef before turning the bow to the south. I felt cautious relief; we had passed the first big hurdle. Maybe this was going to be possible after all. Then the moon dipped below the horizon and the dark became absolute, and I heard Anna being sick.
We bounced and pitched across the South Pacific for what seemed an age, unable to make out any sign of the great rock in the darkness. I was beginning to think we’d gone way past it when the first grey light crept out of the east, enough to make out the form of the enormous stack, towering out of the water directly in front of us. I slowed to a stop, and as the sky lightened and the swell lifted us up I was able to make out the low rocks to our right, in particular the one they called the Wheatsheaf, on account of its profile. I turned away from them, towards the east, and began a slow circling of Balls Pyramid as the sun’s first rays clipped its peak and began a golden striptease down its flank.
‘Awesome,’ Anna muttered. She looked washed out, but gave me an encouraging smile. ‘What do you reckon?’
We had circled around to the dark west side, into the space between the Pyramid and the Wheatsheaf, and it seemed to me that the only possible landing areas were at the southern end of the rock, where the south ridge plunged down into the sea. This was the end where Gannet Green was located, and there was a rock shelf at the tip where, if we managed to get onto it, we might organise ourselves for a climb. I steered back to the place on the calmer leeward side, holding the boat twenty metres or so offshore, and explained to Anna what I thought we should do. She nodded, face tight, clearly not happy about the idea of jumping into that dark heaving swell. I set about uncoiling our rope and sealing the backpacks inside the plastic bin liners we’d brought. I stripped down to my swimmers, wishing I had a wetsuit, put my clothes in another plastic bag and tied the two ends of the rope securely around my waist. At the last minute I decided to make up a fourth bag, transferring into it half of our food and water, the first aid kit, some of our clothes and a blanket we’d brought. That way I reckoned we’d increase our chances of arriving on the other side with at least some of our gear. Risk management, you see.