As the land grew flat and expansive, traffic thinned out. They felt totally alone.
“This is beautiful,” Sunni said. “I remember going to Las Vegas when I was a child. It was a lot like this.”
Bond nodded. “I’ve been to Vegas myself a few times. I’ve never been here, though.”
A large rabbit scampered across the road.
“There’s something about the desert that is so mysterious,” she said. “It looks as if nothing could live here, yet it is full of life. I wonder if we’ll see any kangaroos?”
They drove in silence for a while. Finally, Sunni asked, “All right. You haven’t said a word about all of this, and we were on that damn’ airplane for ten hours. When are you going to let me in on what’s going on? I know you’re some kind of cop for the British government. What are you doing in Hong Kong? Why are we in Australia now?”
Bond had wondered when she would start asking questions. He didn’t see any reason to keep her in the dark. “You know about the terrorist acts that have been committed in Hong Kong over the last month?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I’m investigating them. At first I thought your Triad was involved, but it wasn’t true. There was a rather impetuous Chinese general up in Guangzhou who is no longer with us—he may have been responsible. I’m checking out one more lead in Kalgoorlie. A major British company has a gold mine there. I have a hunch I’m going to find some things there that will shed more light on the whole situation.”
“Will we be back for the handover?”
“Yes. We have to be. I have an appointment with the Royal Navy on the 30th.”
“And when will we leave Hong Kong? On the 1st of July?”
Bond hesitated. He remembered what M had said.
“I’m not sure yet, Sunni,” he said. “I’m working on that.”
“I can’t wait to get out. England sounds nice, but I will probably go back to America. I’d like to go back to school and study medicine. I think I know enough about the human anatomy to have a head start, what do you think?” She laughed, rubbing her hand along Bond’s leg.
“You’d make a wonderful doctor,” Bond said, smiling. “Your bedside manner is particularly inviting.”
She laughed, then became silent. After a moment, she said, “I’m not ashamed of what I’ve been doing. I had to do it. There are many girls who find themselves in the same situation. It supported me and my mother. I had a nice home. I had money …” Her voice choked as she attempted to hold back tears. Bond put his arm around her, keeping one hand on the wheel.
“Sunni, you’re right,” he said. “You don’t have to justify anything to me. Or to yourself. You did what you had to do.”
“I was exploited,” she said. “I’m damaged goods.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “You have a strong heart and a good head on your shoulders. You can leave all that behind you.”
“I am anxious to go,” she said. “I have no family ties in Hong Kong anymore.” She was quiet for a few minutes, then wiped away a tear. Bond knew the poor girl hadn’t been able to grieve properly since her mother’s death. Finally, she said, “You’re right. I can start over. Will you help me, James?”
“I’ll do my best, Sunni,” he said truthfully.
By late afternoon, they had entered Australia’s gold fields and driven through the ghost town of Coolgardie, at one time the gold rush capital of Australia. Half an hour later they finally entered the frontier town of Kalgoorlie and its sister suburb Boulder. Kalgoorlie was a semi-thriving place dubbed the “Queen of the Golden Mile,” reputedly the world’s richest square mile of gold-bearing earth. The surrounding land was hot, flat, and terribly arid. If it hadn’t been for the gold rush of the 1890s, the town wouldn’t exist. At one time, there were more than one hundred working mines in the Golden Mile. Kalgoorlie’s gold fields continued to produce during the 1920s but faltered after the war. A big nickel boom in the 1960s brought renewed prosperity and tourism to the town.
The streets were very wide. If it were not for the modern street lights and the cars, the place might have been mistaken for the set of a Hollywood western. The historic main street, Hannan Street, was lined with antiques shops, pubs, hotels, and large buildings that displayed the long-gone wealth and opulence associated with gold frenzy. The side streets were home to all manner of industrial service facilities such as gas and electric providers, bitumen and bobcat services, machinery repair shops, and drilling equipment sales. It was clearly a roughneck, hard-hatted man’s world. Bond now understood why the local law enforcement agencies quietly allowed brothels to prosper along notorious Hay Street, which ran parallel to Hannan Street.
They stopped at the Star and Garter, a motel on Hannan and Nethercott Streets. Bond got a room which was overpriced considering the rustic “quaintness” of the place. Sunni appeared to be extremely happy with it, though.
It had been a long drive and they were hungry. They walked along Hannan Street towards the downtown area until they found a noisy pub. Bond thought he had stepped back in time when he entered the place. It was more like a Wild West saloon than any sort of English pub. The place was full of men, the hard-drinking type, and they all looked like extras from a Crocodile Dundee movie. All conversation halted when they got a look at Sunni and her long legs. Then there was a long, loud whistle, followed by raucous laughter. A barmaid yelled, “That’s enough!”
Bond led Sunni to a table away from the bar and whispered, “Are you all right in here?”
She nodded confidently. “After what I’ve done for a living, nothing can faze me.”
The men at the bar started talking to each other again. Bond overheard the words “Sheila,” “bird,” “skirt,” and “beaut,” all “Strine” words, or Australian slang, meaning an attractive woman or a tart, depending on the context.
The barmaid, who looked as if she had been born during the gold rush, took their order. She was smiling, but her manner was such that she might have thought they were aliens from Mars.
“She’ll be right,” the woman said. Bond took this to mean they needn’t worry. “They’ve been on the piss for a while,” she went on. “Where you from?”
“England,” Bond said.
“You too?” the woman asked Sunni.
“I’m from America,” Sunni replied.
The woman sniffed, then said, “Whadallibe?” Bond, amused, translated this as “What will it be?”
“If you’re hungry, all we got is counter lunch.”
A man at the bar called out a little too loudly, “It’s your shout, Skip!” The man he addressed groaned and ordered a round of drinks for his mates.
“What’s counter lunch?” Sunni asked.
The woman looked at her. “Steak and chips.”
“That’s fine,” Bond said.
The woman scribbled on a notepad. “You get a salad too.”
“We’ll have a couple of pints of beer. I understand you brew your own here.”
“Goodonyamate. Hannan’s—best beer in Western Australia. Two pots, then?”
“Hold it, Mary,” one of the men said. The one that had been addressed as Skip brought over two large mugs of beer. “It was my shout, so our two guests here are included.” He plopped the two mugs down on the table and held out his hand to Bond. “I’m Skip Stewart. Welcome, mate.”
Bond shook his hand. “Thank you. I’m James, and this is Sunni.”
“Sun-ni! ” he said, making a slight bow to her.
Skip Stewart was dressed for the bush, in sturdy boots, moleskins and a grimy cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He also had on an Akubra hat high on his head. Strapped to his right calf was a large knife in a sheath. “What brings you to our fair city?”