Hammond Innes - Solomons Seal

‘We’ll soon know.’ I started the engine, then hesitated, wondering whether to go up to the office myself and get Tooley to send to Port Moresby while it was still possible. But what would he tell them? In his shoes I would be reluctant to stick my neck out on the hearsay of a young engineer and two strangers. Nobody likes making a fool of himself, and anyway, perhaps it wasn’t part of the plan to cut off all communication with the outside world. ‘Let’s see where they’ve got to,’ I said, and drove off up the road to the pass.

We reached the head of the pass, came out of the defile and started down round the buttress to the loop that ran out on to a shoulder of the mountain. When I reached the hairpin, I switched off the lights, pulled on to the verge and stopped the car. Far down the shadowy scar that marked the twisting line of the road tiny figures moved in the glow-worm lights of two vehicles drawn up side by side. I turned to Perry. ‘Isn’t that where the road goes over a gulley?’

He nodded, sitting tense, his head thrust forward as he peered through the windscreen.

The stars were very bright now, the mountain slopes dark in shadow. If they intended to cut the mine off from the coast, that was the obvious place to do it. ‘Are there explosives down at Anewa?’

‘Probably.’ He nodded. ‘We use a lot of explosives for blasting the ore. Yes, I think there’s bound to be some in store at the port.’

‘And this road is the only way out?’

‘There’s the old tote road, also a rough track that follows the line of the Jaba River to the other side of the island. And of course, we’ve got helicopters. But as far as vehicles are concerned, yes. If they blow the road and set up a guard post, then the mine is virtually sealed off from the port.’

The simplicity of it! No supplies, no spares, nothing — until terms had been agreed. And what was it they wanted? The mine couldn’t grant them independence. Perhaps it was money? ‘How much does the mine pay the Papua New Guinea government by way of taxes?’ I asked him.

‘I wouldn’t know. I suppose it’s in the yearly report. There’s royalties as well as tax. I’ve heard it said that in all it amounts to a third of the PNG annual revenue.’

‘So the islanders would be pretty rich if they could get their hands on it.’

‘Yes. But how could they possibly do that? They don’t control the armed forces in Papua New Guinea, or the police. Bougainville comes under the PNG government, and that’s in Port Moresby.’ He sat there for a moment longer, staring intently at the lights on the road below. Suddenly he opened his door and got out. ‘I’ll drive now.’ He came round to my side. ‘I suggest you and Miss Holland wait here. No point in risking your necks. If I don’t get through, then you can walk back to the mine.’ He had pulled open my door. ‘Come on. It’s my car, my problem.’

‘What do you propose to do?’

‘Talk to them, find out what it’s all about.’ His voice was tense, and by the look on his face I knew he had made up his mind. ‘If they won’t let me through, then I’ll come back and pick you up.’

I got out of the car. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But don’t do anything stupid. They’ll be armed.’

He nodded, settling himself in the driving seat. Perenna got out. ‘Why are you doing this? You don’t have to. Leave it to the manager.’

He gave her a nervous little smile. ‘I happen to believe in what we’re trying to do here. We’ve achieved so much.’ And when she started to argue, he said, ‘Believe me, I know. I lecture in my spare time at the Technical College.’

He started the engine then, and she seized hold of my arm. ‘Stop him,’ she said urgently, her face white in the glow of the lights. ‘He doesn’t understand. They’re from Buka, and this is Cargo. The mine is the biggest Cargo they’ve ever had.’

He smiled at her again, trying to appear confident. ‘I’ve been here six years altogether. I guess I know as much about these people as anyone. I’ll be all right.’

‘Just one thing,’ I said. ‘You mentioned an old tote road. Where is it?’

‘About halfway between here and those trucks. It crosses the highway at the second loop of the double hairpin. But it hasn’t been used in years. If you’re thinking of walking out … Here, take the torch.’ He passed it to me, and then, with a quick wave of the hand, he started down the hill.

‘You should have stopped him.’ Her hand was still on my arm, and I could feel her trembling. ‘He doesn’t realise what they’re like. Cargo is magic. It’s like a religion. They’re not open to reason when they’re in the grip of it. If he tries to stop them, they’ll cut him to pieces.’

‘Better sit down,’ I said. ‘Nothing you can do about it now, and we may have a long, rough walk ahead of us.’

We sat there on the gravel verge, watching the blaze of his lights dwindle as the car swung down under the scarred terraces of the mountainside. They disappeared for a time behind the buttress that hid the double hairpin, then came into view again, a tiny glow now as he came on to the final straight before the gulley. He was driving fast, and the figures moving in the lights of the truck froze. I thought I saw the glint of a gun barrel; then he was slowing down. Finally he stopped, the car’s lights shining on the little group in front of the trucks. They waved him back, but he was out of the car now and walking towards them.

Time passed — a minute, perhaps two, the huddle of men moving closer to him. One of them held a gun. I saw it distinctly as he ran past him, and Perry, turning, was suddenly engulfed. I couldn’t see him after that. ‘The fool!’ Perenna breathed. ‘The stupid, quixotic fool!’

‘He’ll be all right,’ I said. But I wasn’t at all sure. It depended how tensed up they were. But at least we had heard no sound of a shot.

His car was driven on past the trucks and parked down the road. After that there was a burst of almost frenzied activity. It went on for about ten minutes, and then the trucks were started up and manoeuvred back and forth until they were turned and could be driven down to park behind the car. We waited, certain of what was going to happen as tiny figures straggled down the road to crouch in the shelter of the vehicles. Suddenly the road surface burst upwards in a flash of flame and smoke. The sound of the explosion followed, a protracted, rattling boom that reverberated against the mountain slopes and slowly died away in the distance.

‘Well, that’s that,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘You going back to the mine or coming on with me to find that tote road?’

She didn’t seem to hear, still sitting there, her eyes wide and shocked, a frozen look on her face. ‘They’d never have thought of that on their own.’ She looked up at me. ‘It’s all been so carefully planned — the arms, the way they’ve taken over the vital centres, everything. But what does he hope to get out if it?’

‘Who?’ I was still gazing intently at what was happening on the road below.

‘Hans, of course. It has to be Hans. The arms, the trucks, the timing … ’ Her voice was low and husky, barely audible. ‘But why? What does he want?’

I wasn’t at all certain about that myself. There was no smelting operation on Bougainville. The gold and silver weren’t separated from the copper; it was shipped out as a mineral concentrate. I had checked that with Tooley. ‘Bulk cargo contracts, I imagine. According to your brother, when he was in England, he was looking for another ship.’

She didn’t seem to take that in, sitting hunched on the gravel, grasping her knees. ‘Power,’ she whispered. ‘He’s a man who wants to dominate everything — everybody.’ A shudder ran through her. And then, not looking at me, still in a whisper, speaking her thoughts aloud: ‘He fascinates me and appals me … he’s … ’ She seemed to choke on the words, falling silent, her mood tense, overwrought. I sat down again, and she gripped hold of my hand, very tight. There was a long silence, and I waited, knowing she wanted to tell me something, needed to explain. Finally, in a small voice, she said, ‘Roy. I’m scared — scared of him, of myself — everything. How’s it going to end?’ And under her breath she murmured, ‘God, what a mess!’