Indonesian Gold (85 page)

When Campbell did enter, Udir was standing
totem-pole-still with a finger to his lips, the appearance of the
Penehing
elder in
the

room catching the camp boss totally off guard. ‘Who…?'
Udir jumped straight in.
‘Tuan, Angela sent me. Her father has been hurt!'

Campbell's heart skipped a beat.
‘What
happened?'

‘
The army, they attacked again.
'

‘
And Jonathan?
'

‘Shot, in the chest.'
Udir marked the point on his own body with a finger.

‘Can he be moved?'
Campbell started to think ahead. There would be no chopper availability until the new
drilling crew arrived. By then, Jonathan Dau could easily have died.

‘Angela says he shouldn't be moved. She asks that you
come, now, with me, and bring any medical supplies you have.'

Campbell was aware of the substantive medical stores
maintained onsite, as required by the mining industry.
‘These won't be of much use without a
doctor.'

Udir stepped forward.
‘Is there anyone here who would
help?'

Campbell's mind raced. He hadn't taken first aid training,
something he now deeply regretted.
‘I don't think so.'
And then,
‘How did you get into
the camp, unseen?'

Udir was losing patience with Campbell.
‘By longboat,
of course! My men are waiting upriver.We don't have much time,Tuan. Please, can we go back
now?'

Campbell nodded.
‘Wait here. I'll get the medical
supplies.'
He left the Dayak elder and hurried across the open field towards the emergency
storeroom, fumbling for the keys in his pocket as he went. He saw Baird sitting alone, eating,
and shouted. ‘Eric, need your help – now!'

Baird dropped his cutlery, grabbed the steel rod thinking
that the drillers had started brawling again, and ran after the American, catching up at the
storeroom entrance as Campbell unlocked the door and rushed inside.

‘What's up?'

‘Emergency. Angela's father's been shot.'

‘The chief?'

‘Yes. The army came back for whatever reason and he's
taken one in the chest.'

‘Shit. Then I wouldn't bother hurrying, Stew. Chest wounds
are usually fatal, even under the best conditions.'

‘We've got to get him medical attention.'

‘The chopper?'

‘Won't get here fast enough.'

‘What, then?'

‘I'm gonna take whatever we have, over there now.' With
this, he scoured the shelves cursing, unable to identify anything that might be of
use.

Baird shook his head impatiently, grabbing items and
throwing these into a small, cardboard box. ‘You should take these, and some of those, and heaps
of these bandages.' He continued to fill a box, clucking his tongue as he went.

Campbell
stared in wonder at
the other man. ‘You know about this stuff?'

‘Sure,' Baird continued searching the shelves, ‘you learn
a lot about self medication working out in the field.' He raised his eyebrows at the American and
proffered the hastily produced first aid kit. ‘What are you waiting for?'

Campbell
knew he had no
choice. ‘Come with me, Eric, I don't know the first goddamn thing about any of this?'

Baird had anticipated the request. ‘Okay, let's
go.'

‘You're sure?' Campbell had expected less.

‘It's probably going to be safer with you than being left
here, alone. Besides, I'll get the opportunity to talk to Mardidi, right?'

‘One of us should be here for when the chopper
arrives.'

‘We've still got three, maybe four hours. That's enough
time.'

They returned to Campbell's cabin – Udir with a knife
raised when they entered unannounced, Baird petrified when confronted with the fierce looking
elder and his intimidating
golok.
Campbell soothed both men, giving the
Penehing
a
baseball hat for disguise.
‘Here, wear this – it'll make you look like one of the local
drillers. No one's going to pay you much attention if we all go together.Walk between us, and you
won't be noticed.'

They escorted Udir back through the camp, the smaller
man's figure partially hidden by the American's larger frame. They cleared the camp perimeter
without challenge then followed the elder as he guided them through the thick forest, to the
longboat. No sooner had they climbed into the vessel when the powerful outboard roared into life,
and they were on their way – Baird more apprehensive than he cared to let on – Campbell solemnly
silent throughout the short voyage as he examined his own, mixed emotions for the woman who'd
rejected his love – but who now called upon him in her hour of need.

****

The Philippines

When Alexander Kremenchug's flight touched down at Ninoy
Aquino International Airport, he understood why Pope John Paul kissed the tarmac upon arrival.
His aircraft had caught the backend of a typhoon, the severe buffeting for most of the Eva Air
flight from Taipei the worst he'd experienced in years. The mining entrepreneur had phoned from
Vancouver, Alfredo confirming that he would be available to discuss Sharon's affairs. Kremenchug
proceeded through immigration into the flight arrivals' baggage hall, zigzagging through the maze
of trolleys blocking passage past the carousels, and surrendered his declaration to customs.
Kremenchug was traveling light. The official waved him through with disinterest and, once he'd
changed a few dollars into Pesos, he chartered a taxi and was on his way to the late General
Dominguez's residence. The traffic appeared to be even more congested than he remembered,
exacerbated by the heavy rain, the journey taking just under two hours.

****

‘
Mabuhay,
Mister Alex,' Alfredo greeted Kremenchug
at the door dressed in sandals and light, casual clothes. He escorted his visitor to the late
general's study on the second floor, Kremenchug surprised at the ease with which Alfredo assumed
the role of host. Nothing had changed in the setting, the furniture, the pictures and other
decorations – everything was exactly the same, as before.

Alfredo invited Kremenchug to sit, and poured coffee. ‘I
apologize for the weather. Even we Filipinos dislike too much rain. Have you booked into a
hotel?'

‘No. I can't stay long. My flight out leaves in about four
hours.'

‘I can understand your haste in wanting to leave. This is
not a good time of the year to be visiting our beautiful country.'

Kremenchug
was impatient to
cut through the pleasantries. ‘Maybe I can make it back some other time.' He went directly to the
point. ‘Alfredo…' he hesitated, ‘may I call you Alfredo?'

The older man laughed pleasantly. ‘Of course, of course,
Mister Kremenchug.'

‘Then you should just call me Alex.'

Another smile. ‘Thank you… Alex.'

‘Alfredo,' Kremenchug started again, ‘I understand that
this is a difficult time for you, but first let me say how deeply sorry I am with Sharon's tragic
loss.'

Alfredo fell silent, acting out the part for which he'd
been groomed. Kremenchug continued, ‘As discussed over the phone, I come here today not only as
Sharon's friend but also as a director of the Borneo Gold Corporation.' Alfredo knew that
Kremenchug was watching his reactions closely. ‘Alfredo, are you able to tell me anything about
Sharon's private papers…such as correspondence with bankers in the British Virgin Islands, or
anything which might relate to, say, Dominion Mining?'

Alfredo had expected Kremenchug's visit. Sharon had
prepped him at the time of her uncle's funeral, in what to say, and do. His face became serious
and he frowned, as if deep in thought. ‘When you phoned, I went and examined all of Miss Sharon's
private papers. There was nothing amongst these that relate to…where did you say?'

‘British Virgin Islands – the place is called Road Town,
on the island of Tortola,' Kremenchug prompted.

‘Ah yes. I'm sorry, I did not write any of our
conversation down.

I'm getting old and, unfortunately, forgetful…Road
Town…Tortola?' he mused, ‘…no, Alex, I'm certain that there was nothing amongst her papers
mentioning such a place.'

‘Are you sure?' Kremenchug insisted, ‘what about Dominion
Mining?'

Alfredo continued with the game. ‘Dominion…Dominion,' he
moved his head slowly from side to side, ‘no, I'm sorry, there was nothing about this company
either.'

‘But there
has
to be something!' Kremenchug's voice
started to climb, ‘It's just not possible that all her records have simply vanished into thin
air.'

Alfredo appeared sympathetic. ‘I agree, Alex. It does seem
unusual.'

‘Did she have a close friend, perhaps?' Kremenchug started
to grab at straws, ‘or a distant relative – anyone at all whom she might have entrusted with such
documents?'

Alfredo responded as he had before, this time scratching
the side of his head for effect. ‘Apart from the General, I was the only other person who was
close to Miss Sharon. We were like family, Alex.' At this point Alfredo lost his lines and
paused, Kremenchug concerned that the old man might break into tears. Recovering his thoughts,
Alfredo continued. ‘Miss Sharon was like my own daughter. When she died…' his voice trailed off,
the Filipino proud of his own performance.

Sharon
had briefed him well.
With her uncle gone, she had not hesitated in revealing what she planned, Alfredo's participation
paramount to her success. The former solider had worshipped the General and, in return for his
years of dedication and love for Narciso Dominguez, Sharon had promised to bequeath the mansion
to him, the bequest to include a guaranteed income for the rest of his days. When news of her
‘death' was relayed to him via Vancouver, Alfredo had acted the part of the loyal, grieving
manservant. He knew to expect Kremenchug to come hunting for information, delighted with Sharon's
intelligent assessment of the man's character, and the preparations she had so carefully put into
place, to ensure her life in anonymity.

‘Alfredo,' Kremenchug shuffled his shoes then lifted his
eyes from the deep carpet. ‘There is another matter I also wish to raise with you.'

‘Please, Alex. You were a close friend of Sharon's. What
can I do to help?'

Kremenchug
cleared his throat
nervously. ‘It's about the General's gold.'

Alfredo had extreme difficulty in containing himself.
Sharon had warned that this man was predictable. He responded with a confused face. ‘I don't
understand.'

Kremenchug
tried again, his
impatience rising, ‘The gold in the cellar, Alfredo. You know, the gold Sharon and the General
took me down to see!'

The aging Filipino appeared bewildered. ‘Miss Sharon took
what was left, moved after the General passed away.'

‘Where to?' Kremenchug's spirits rose with this
news.

‘She didn't say.'

‘You weren't around to assist?' Kremenchug asked
suspiciously.

‘There wasn't all that much left,' Alfredo was offended by
the innuendo.

‘But there was hundreds of millions!'

‘No. What was stored in the cellar was all there
was.'

‘That can't be! Sharon said there was more than two
hundred million!'

‘I can assure you, Alex, if there ever was such an amount,
it was definitely not stored here.'

‘Then where?'

‘I don't have the answer to that question. I would be
happy to take you down to the cellar, to see for yourself?'

Kremenchug
knew there was
something dreadfully wrong with this picture. Sharon was professional with everything she
embraced, yet she died without leaving any power of attorney, no will or any other documents
suggesting that she had ever even existed. Kremenchug was convinced that Alfredo was lying to
keep Sharon and her uncle's estate for himself. Confronted by this conclusion, Kremenchug
realized that he had come to another dead end.

‘I'll see myself out,' he rose, refused the outstretched
hand, then stormed down the stairs and outside, never to return.

Alfredo stood with hands clasped behind, emulating his
beloved General's frequent stance when peering through the study's windows, a broad smile holding
his cheeks apart as he watched Kremenchug exit, the entrepreneur's slumped shoulders a sure sign
of defeat.

****

Former Longhouse Site