“Just passing through,” Bond said.
“Ya know, I can tell you a thing or two about this town,” Stewart said. “My great-grandaddy on my mother’s side was the engineer who first brought water to Kalgoorlie.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s right. C.Y. O’Connor was his name. It was at the turn of the century, during the gold rush …” Stewart took a chair at their table and proceeded to tell his story. Bond didn’t mind, and Sunni was grinning at the man. He was overflowing with local colour.
“Ya see, the miners were dropping like flies what for the lack of water. Drinking water, that is. My great-grandaddy came up with an invention—a wood and pitch water pipe that stretched from Kalgoorlie all the way to Mundaring Weir, near Perth. Nobody thought he would succeed. They all called him a strop, but he kept going. Well, the pipeline was finished and turned on, and after three days—there still weren’t no water yet! My poor great-grandaddy shot himself ’cause he thought he’d failed, eh? But you know what?”
“What?” Sunni asked.
“He didn’t realize that the water would take two weeks to travel that distance, eh? He had solved the problem. A week and a half after he killed himself, water poured out of the pipeline and began to fill up the town’s new reservoir!”
“That’s quite a story,” Bond said.
“It’s true, mate.”
The men at the bar called to Stewart and held up their empty mugs.
“Oh, uhm, it’s your shout, mate,” Stewart said to Bond.
That meant it was Bond’s turn to buy everyone in the bar a drink. “Sure,” he said, and nodded to the barmaid.
Skip Stewart stood up, obviously pleased with Bond’s response to the men’s request. “Goodonyamate. I can tell you’re no two-pot screamer. Hey, if you need anything while you’re here, you don’t hesitate to call on me. I run guided tour packages into the outback. I have four by fours, utes, campers, and dirt bikes. If you need to get somewhere in a hurry, I’ve got a little plane at the airstrip for hire. Rent the plane, you get the pilot for free.”
“Who’s the pilot?” Bond asked.
“You’re lookin’ at him.” Stewart said. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Bond. It was a little limp and damp from the man’s sweat. “That’s my card, mate. Like I said, call if you need anything. I’ll leave you two to your dinner now.” He took the opportunity to get another eyeful of Sunni, then sauntered back to the bar and rejoined his friends. Bond stuck the man’s card in his pocket and smiled at Sunni. She was enjoying this. The barmaid brought the counter lunch, which consisted of greasy, tough, overcooked steak, and thick, oily french fries. The salad was a couple of lettuce leaves, one piece of sliced tomato, and a slice of tinned beetroot. Bond ate it anyway. Sunni picked at hers.
“We’ll go to a proper restaurant next time,” he promised.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m not that hungry. When are we going back to the motel?”
When they got back to the Star and Garter, Sunni bolted the door, turned and leaned back against it. She held her arms out to Bond. Still dressed, he went to her and they embraced. He pressed her against the door with his own hard body. “Oh, darling James,” she moaned as she wrapped her long legs around his waist. He held her, suspended between the door and his torso, thrusting his pelvis between her legs and grinding into her slowly with force. They kissed deeply, forgetting their surroundings and losing themselves in each other.
She unwrapped her legs and moved him towards the bed. They removed their clothes. Because the wounds on his backside and legs were still sensitive, she pulled him on top of her smooth, soft body. She undulated beneath him, rocking against his flesh with a rhythm not unlike the waves in Victoria Harbour. They continued to kiss, all the while exploring each other’s skin with their hands. Eventually she grasped him firmly and guided him inside. Locked together, they moved with passion and anticipation, urging each other on toward the moment of climax that they finally experienced together.
They continued to make love for what seemed like hours. The bed squeaked and the air conditioner rumbled, but at least the room was cool.
ZERO MINUS THREE: 28 JUNE 1997, 5:00 A.M.
“I’m coming with you,” Sunni said, slipping on her shorts and blouse. Bond had already showered and was dressed.
They had got a few hours of sleep after a blissful night. Bond thought he should go to the facility alone, and had hoped he could slip away without waking her.
“Sunni, I don’t know what I’m going to find there. There could be trouble.”
“Oh, stop treating me like a helpless bimbo. I could watch your back. You’ve seen me in action. I’m a Hong Kong girl, remember?”
“All right, but put on something to cover your legs. We’re going down a mine.”
The sun was just beginning to rise as they drove away from the motel and out of town, heading north towards more remote mining towns such as Broad Arrow, Comet Vale, and Leonora. The EurAsia Enterprises facility was about an hour’s drive away.
Many of the mines in Kalgoorlie-Boulder were open pit mines. This meant that the ore was mined and hauled from what was basically a large hole in the ground. The maximum amount of payable ore was moved by the shortest route to the processing plant with the minimum amount of waste. The aptly named “Super Pit” was the largest of this kind in the area, and the city’s gold-mining industry was now primarily centred around it. The Super Pit would eventually swallow the last of the traditional underground mine shafts that could be found in the Golden Mile.
EurAsia’s mining operation was of the old-fashioned underground type. The ore was drilled and blasted by conventional means, leaving a cavern which was partially filled with barren rock from the same mine. The broken ore produced by the blast was carried by haul trucks or rail cars to a primary crusher underground, before being winched to the surface via a shaft. Trucks, loaders, and other vehicles and equipment used underground were dismantled on the surface and lowered in pieces down the shaft. They were then reassembled in workshops cut from the rock beneath the surface. Large headframes, prominent features in the Kalgoorlie-Boulder skyline, were used for hauling ore to the surface or raising and lowering miners and equipment.
The entrance to the facility was just off the highway. A faded sign read “EurAsia Enterprises Australia Pty—Private Property—No Trespassing.” A road led from the paved highway off into the distance. Bond turned into the drive, then moved off the dirt road and travelled along the side of it over the rough terrain.
“What are you doing?” Sunni asked.
“I don’t want to leave fresh tyre treads in the dirt road. No one will notice the tracks out here.”
After ten minutes, the adjacent dirt road opened up into a large gravelled area surrounded by a barbed-wire fence. A closed gate barred entrance to the compound. There was a two-storey, white wooden building just inside the fence. Several 4x4 vehicles and a couple of other standard cars were parked in front. Most notable was the private airstrip alongside the building. A Cessna Grand Caravan single turboprop sat on the runway. Bond thought it was probably used by company executives to get to and from Perth in a hurry. It was the type of plane that was commonly owned by corporations and even private individuals in an area as large as Western Australia.
Bond parked the Vitara behind a clump of eucalyptus trees that he hoped would shield it from sight. He and Sunni got out and moved closer to the fence. Some distance away, on the other side of the white building, was the entrance to the mine. A headframe fifty metres high marked the spot. Two trucks sat on the “decline,” the dirt road that led into the big dark hole. Another small structure stood next to it, most likely a miners’ barracks or storehouse. Two men wearing overalls were walking towards the main building. Bond wondered how many more employees would be present.