Peter Corris - Deep Water

‘I believe I have a found a site where the aquifer could be safely tapped, given a very considerable investment of capital, the carrying out of a meticulous environmental impact survey, and the employment of highly trained and principled technicians. I’ve also devised the correct technique for the operation to be done safely. Under the terms of my contract-a secret agreement entered into between Tarelton Explorations and myself to preserve confidentiality-I am obliged to provide this information to the company. I have not done so. In fact, after I became aware of certain things, I have provided misleading and erroneous information.’

I hit PAUSE.

‘Jesus,’ Margaret said, ‘this is big. Have you ever heard of this aquifer thing?’

‘All I know about it is what I’m learning now.’

I pressed PLAY again.

‘The confidentiality I spoke of has been breached,’ McKinley went on. ‘And I believe there are now two other organisations who are aware of my researches and have received the preliminary, positive reports I tendered to Tarelton. This information has come to me through a source I trust-one of my research assistants at Tarelton- Susan O’Neil. According to Dr O’Neil, Tarelton has entered into agreements with Lachlan Enterprises and Global Resources in violation of my agreement with Tarelton.

‘My own subsequent enquiries suggest that all three companies have serious and suspect political connections and are more like rivals than cooperative partners. Perhaps Edward Tarelton has made a mistake in recruiting the others. I assume he needs the capital. But the upshot is that I no longer feel prepared to report in full on my research. I now believe that whatever organisation possesses this data will use it to circumvent legal requirements and will attempt to exploit the aquifer for purely selfish, commercial purposes.

‘Serious environmental damage and harm to large sections of residential and business areas would result from irresponsible tapping and exploitation of what I call the greater aquifer.

‘Again, this is clearly contrary to my arrangement with Tarelton, which was that all legal conditions governing the aquifer would be met, with the company deriving an appropriate reward, but no more. The state government has the rights to the deposit, but may make arrangements for its use. I fear that political and commercial considerations may override ethics at this point. I was excited by the research project, seduced by the funds and expertise available to me and I was naive.’

I paused the disc again. ‘This is heavy stuff,’ I said. ‘He’s talking about three competitors, all looking to make dodgy millions from his work done in good faith. Sorry, Margaret, I’m really talking to myself. Trying to get a handle on this.’

Margaret said, ‘Each one of them with reasons to steal what he discovered or. . kill him. I need a drink.’

She went out to the kitchen and came back with two glasses-solid scotches with water. ‘Go on,’ she said.

McKinley’s frozen image came to life again. ‘I have reason to believe that these. . competing forces, shall I call them, are aware of my hesitation and will continue, in their different ways, to bring pressure to bear. I have been virtually threatened by Tarelton and Lachlan and offered a ridiculous inducement by Global Resources, which I refused, not that there was any possibility of their actually paying it.

‘I believe my life is in danger and I am trying to think of a secure way to document the site and the technique so that the legal and ethical standards can be met. I haven’t yet come up with one and I’m making this record just to. . I suppose protect myself. I’m confused and unwell. The strain of this problem has affected my health, which has always been excellent. I am short of breath and subject to episodes of fatigue quite unfamiliar to me.

‘I’ve thought of approaching the police, but one of the threats I mentioned actually came from a police officer and I know that at least two of the involved companies have corrupt senior government ministers working in their interest. I’m considering going higher, but water is now such a political, moral and environmental touchstone that I don’t know who to trust. .’

Margaret covered her eyes with one hand and gestured for me to stop the recording.

‘Poor, poor Dad,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t he hop on a plane and. .’

I shook my head. ‘I suspect he was aware of being watched, and the last thing he would have wanted would be to draw you and Lucinda into the mess.’

She nodded and flapped her hand. ‘Go on, please.’

‘The data is not electronically recorded,’ McKinley continued. He gestured at the notes on his desk. ‘And I propose to burn these documents. I want to find a way to communicate my findings personally to a trustworthy person or organisation but I’m not hopeful. This records my sincere desire to do the right thing. I hope my beloved daughter and grand-daughter will become aware of that and think well of me.’

The screen went blank. Margaret sobbed uncontrollably.

In the past, people paid a lot of attention to fireplaces. Now, we regard them as ornamental, and I hadn’t even noticed that the living room had one. As Margaret regained self-control, I went over to the fireplace: the grate was full of ashes, clearly the remnants of many sheets of paper. Henry McKinley had done what he said he would do and his multimillion dollar information had been locked up inside his head. The question was-had anyone forced the information from him and, if so, who?

Margaret took a strong pull on her drink and watched me as I poked at the ashes in the vain hope that the destruction hadn’t been complete.

‘He was a brave man,’ I said.

‘He was a bloody fool. The corruption here can’t be that bad. Why didn’t he go to the media?’

‘Look, as he says, he was bound by a legal agreement. If he went to the media they’d be wary about that and take some time over it, then stuff could leak out and he could be in all sorts of trouble. His credibility could be shot. He shouldn’t have destroyed the notes, though. That put the entire burden on him and he didn’t look well enough to handle it.’

Margaret finished her scotch and went out to the kitchen for the bottle. She freshened both drinks. ‘Do you think we’ll ever find out what happened?’

‘We can try. This Dr O’Neil is someone we have to talk to, and I’ve got an idea who the policeman he mentioned might be.’

She didn’t pursue that and for a minute I thought she might have resigned herself to no result and be looking for a way to tell me so. But I was wrong.

‘I still think that drawing is a quarry,’ she said, ‘and now that we’ve heard what Dad said it makes more sense, doesn’t it? A quarry’s a big, deep hole, right? That would make a good start at getting down to the water, wouldn’t it?’

‘Could be.’

‘I want to see the quarry around here. I want to see all the fucking quarries. If we find one that fits the drawing, that’s a start on what he was on about. Grab the disc and let’s go, Cliff. I want to get out of this place.’

‘Is there anything of your dad’s here-books or CDs- that you might want to keep, d’you think?’

She shook her head and held up the scotch bottle. ‘Just this.’

Margaret used the toilet. I went outside and scouted around the house. The grass was getting out of control, leaves were building up here and there and some rubbish- plastic bottles and fast food containers-had been trapped in the bushes. Bending to examine a yellowed copy of the local newspaper, I found a pair of spectacles in the grass. Expensive, and exactly like those worn by Henry McKinley. I wrapped them in a tissue and shoved them into my jacket pocket.