‘Ohh yeah. Why not.’
‘That hotel near where the NSA team are staying’s got a band on. Why don’t we go down and have a look? We can still keep an eye on the Mormons.’
‘Okay,’ said Kerrie. ‘That would be good.’
Jesse was extremely pleased with the room at the Tudor. She gave the bed a quick road test and told Mick he was forgiven for last night. After she cleaned her teeth and freshened up, Jesse put on a pair of tan Blundstones and Mick got into his brown Colorados. Then they packed their bags, got their caps and sunglasses and, after stopping briefly at a garage opposite the Greater Scone for two large bottles of mineral water, headed for Burning Mountain.
With Jesse sitting beside him, Mick was listening to the radio as they drove along the highway. She’d been very bubbly before they left; now Mick sensed something was on her mind.
‘What’s up, Oz?’ he asked her. ‘You’re very quiet all of a sudden.’
‘Yes,’ replied Jesse. ‘I keep thinking of those numbers and that funny writing in Tesla’s diary. And there’s more, short rows of numbers and letters spread over some other pages. I know they mean something. But I can’t for the life of me figure it out, and it’s annoying the shit out of me.’
‘Maybe they’re temperatures or distances,’
suggested Mick. ‘You said his handwriting was a bit rough.’
‘More than a bit.’
Mick gave Jesse a pat on the leg. ‘I only wish I could help you, mate.’
‘That’s okay,’ smiled Jesse. ‘I’ll figure it out somehow.’
The Four Tops were crooning ‘Baby I Need Your Lovin’” when a sign appeared indicating the turn-off. Mick slowed down then swung the Commodore right past another sign saying
BURNING MOUNTAIN NATURE RESERVE
and drove a little further before pulling up in the parking area.
‘Looks like we’re here,’ said Jesse.
‘Yes. We sure are.’ Mick switched off the engine and they checked things out from inside the car.
To their left, a spread of skinny trees pushed up through a fenced-off clearing with a metal bridge built over it, and down behind the bridge were two billabongs covered in ducks and other water birds. From there, the bush and trees thickened and rose up into the surrounding hills. Two campervans with the doors open were parked alongside the fence, and on the right was an information shelter. There were no people around and the only movement or sound were birds bobbing about in the surrounding trees.
Jesse pointed to the blue information shelter. ‘Why don’t we have a quick look inside and see what it says?’
‘Okay,’ replied Mick.
They got out of the car and walked over to the shed. On the walls inside were plaques of writing. Mick read the first one he saw out loud:
‘“Why not go on a walk? A special place. Welcome to Burning Mountain. The National Parks and Wildlife Service of New South Wales manages Nature Reserves to maximise their value for scientific investigation and educational purposes. Burning Mountain is part of Australia’s National Estate—special places we want to keep for future generations. Please enjoy your walk, but do not remove any plants, rocks or minerals or disturb wildlife in any way.”’ He turned to Jesse. ‘Fair enough.’
‘You know the old saying, Mick,’ said Jesse. ‘Take nothing but photos. Leave nothing but footprints.’
‘What about if you’re a sports shooter?’
‘Shut up, Mick.’
‘Sorry.’
Mick read some more of the plaques: Wingen the Burning Mountain; Ben Hall’s father Benjamin and his secret cave beneath Murulla;
Henry Dangar the explorer’s attempt to find a route over the ranges, and his clash with the Geaweagal clan.
Finally Jesse said they should get moving so they went back to the car and got their backpacks.
‘Well. Here we go, Lois,’ said Mick, adjusting his cap and sunglasses after climbing into his backpack. ‘Off to save the world.’
‘That’s us, Superman,’ replied Jesse, doing the same. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can foil Lex Luthor’s evil plans.’
With Jesse in the lead, they set off over the metal bridge and past the billabongs, then started climbing a long, steep trail augmented with pine log steps set into the dry red soil. The trail rose through the trees and shrubs and wound past cracks and fissures that split the dust and cliffs along the side. Higher up, bigger trees appeared to be clinging to each other as if they were in fear of being swept into the steep gullies on the right that crisscrossed the valleys running towards the distant mountain ranges.
It was eerily quiet and bird life appeared nonexistent; the only discernible sound was their boots crunching against the dust or landing on the steps. Now and again a wallaby or a kangaroo would bob up in one of gulleys, take a look, then
bound off through the trees. At different intervals the National Parks and Wildlife Service had built rest areas and information plaques on the side of the trail. Mick stopped at one, took his bottle of water out and started reading about the initiation rites of the Wonnarua People. One paragraph read:
The young warriors at some stage had an upper tooth knocked out, their nose was pierced and they were scarred on their backs and shoulders, stomachs and occasionally legs. The slightest grimace led to ridicule.
Mick would have liked to read more, but he noticed Jesse disappearing up the trail. He had another drink of water and took off after her. With a good sweat up, they finally reached the end of the trail, then stepped up onto a raised wooden walkway that led to a viewing platform at the end.
‘Holy shit!’ swore Mick, dumping his backpack down at the viewing platform. ‘What a bloody hike.’
‘Was it what,’ smiled Jesse, dropping her backpack and taking out a bottle of water. ‘But we’re here.’
They’d arrived on a plateau above rolling green valleys that swept away towards remote mountain ranges with steep granite cliffs. Across the mountain ranges, rows of knobby brown hills pushed up like fat stubby fingers about to poke a hole in the sky. On the other side of the viewing platform was a huge barren area of hot white ash dotted with clumps of porous red rock. The rocks and ash pushed up, forming a smouldering hill, out of which puffs of sulphurous steam rose from holes deep in the ground. There was no sign of wildlife and, apart from the high wind passing through the trees, it was again eerily silent.
‘So this thing’s been burning for five thousand years?’ said Mick as a whiff of gassy odour drifted over the viewing platform.
‘That they know of,’ said Jesse. She pointed to a cliff around from the huge mound of ash. ‘I’d say that’s the Wingen Maid.’
‘The original Tears of Fire,’ said Mick.
‘That’s right.’
‘And where do you reckon the Piggiebillah Hills are?’
Jesse pointed to the rows of hills poking up amongst the distant ranges. ‘Somewhere over there. Where the porcupine got his quills.’
‘Good thing you got that map,’ said Mick. ‘There’s plenty of hills. And it isn’t just a five-minute walk to get the papers.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Jesse. ‘But never fear. Jesse the genius is here.’
‘That’s my girl,’ smiled Mick.
‘Come on. There’s a shelter just down there. Let’s get in the shade while I sort things out.’
Mick picked up his backpack and followed Jesse around to the shelter. He put his bag on the floor and took out his bottle of water while Jesse spread her map across the table and placed a compass on it. Mick was drinking from his bottle of mineral water and watching Jesse fuss around with the map when she looked up and gave him a blank stare.
‘Oh!’ she said. ‘Oh!’ she said again. Jesse looked at the map, reddened and stood up. ‘Oh bloody shit!’ she said loudly.
‘Something wrong, Oz?’ Mick enquired tactfully.
Jesse gave Mick a thin smile through clenched teeth. ‘Something wrong?’ she fumed. ‘Yes, Mick. You could say that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like, Jesse the genius stuffed up.’
‘You did?’ Mick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘How?’
Jesse nodded to the table. ‘That bloody map is a map of Ellerston.’
‘Ellerston?’
‘Yeah.’ Jesse pointed to the distant mountains. ‘Umpteen kilometres that way. We’re not even on the map’s radar. The closest to us on it is Gundy bloody Mountain.’
‘Oh,’ said Mick.
‘Yeah, Mick. Oh,’ echoed Jesse.
Mick watched the anger and frustration welling up inside Jesse and wished there was something he could do. ‘Well, it’s all my fault,’ he blurted.
‘Your fault?’ argued Jesse. ‘How can it be your bloody fault? You goose.’
‘Because instead of sitting on my arse reading the papers all morning, I should have been in the library helping you with your research.’
Jesse’s brown eyes narrowed to ebony slits. ‘You’re right, Mick. It is your fault.’
‘See,’ smiled Mick. ‘Don’t you feel better once you’ve blamed me?’
‘Oh Mick, you big shit,’ said Jesse. ‘How can it be your fault?’ She sat down next to Mick and let him put his arm around her. ‘I stuffed up. And that’s it.’
‘All right then. If you insist.’ Mick gave Jesse a reassuring hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘So what are we going to do?’
‘Do?’ replied Jesse. ‘Nothing much we can do. Those hills are further away than I thought. And without a map, we’d never find the right ones.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘And it’s not getting any earlier.’
‘So…?’
‘So we’re stuffed. Unless you want to hang around Scone till Monday and see if genius Jesse can find the right map. But to be honest, Mick, after what happened at your place and everything else I reckon we ought to stick to plan B. Go back to Newcastle. Take the diary and our story to the media. And wing it from there.’
‘Now that,’ said Mick, ‘is a very good idea.’
‘And we can also execute plan C.’
‘Plan C? What’s plan C?’
‘Get some cool ones on the way back to the motel. Then spend the rest of the afternoon hanging around the pool reading the papers.’
‘Plan C I definitely like,’ said Mick.
‘And tonight,’ beamed Jesse, ‘we’ll hit that pub. And show the locals how to hoof it.’
‘Even better,’ said Mick. ‘And you know what you should base your story around when you sell it to the papers?’
‘What?’
‘Kath and Kim Find the Doomsday Machine. Except you’ll be Kath. And I’ll be Kel.’
Jesse tilted her head to one side and fixed Mick with a steely glare. ‘Mick. Look at moi. Look at moi. Mick. Look at moi.’
‘Hey. I’m lookin’ baby,’ said Mick lustily. ‘And there ain’t no one around for miles.’
‘Mick. You filthy beast,’ blushed Jesse.
‘I know,’ said Mick. ‘But what another great byline to your story.
Jesse Osbourne. My Secret Agony: How I tried to save the world, and Mick Vincent tried to bonk my brains out on Burning Mountain
. Yeah?’
Jesse gave Mick a quick once-up-and-down. ‘Oh why not,’ she said, and started unlacing her boots.
Two minutes later they were both stark naked and getting into a lot of heavy kissing and breathing. Next thing, Jesse was lying back on the table with her knees up and Mick was going for his life; up on a mountain range, out in the middle of nowhere, next to a burning pit of sulphur.
It was sensational. And besides the reckless spontaneity of their lovemaking giving it that little extra, it also felt so fresh and natural with the sun beaming down all around them and the
breeze whispering through their hair. It was that good, Jesse sorted Mick out after the first one and they went for seconds.
Mick was a little weak in the knees when they finished. So after they got dressed, Jesse left him to guzzle water while she snapped off a roll of film; the mountains, him, her, and a couple of them together on ten-second delay. Satisfied she had enough, Jesse let the camera rewind then put it back in her bag.
‘How are you feeling now, Oz?’ Mick asked her. ‘Got everything you need?’
‘Yes. I think so,’ replied Jesse quietly, as she took a last look at the Piggiebillah Hills. ‘It just gives me the shits to think that thing’s out there. And once I sell the story to the media, the government will get involved. Which means it will eventually end up with the NSA.’
‘Yeah. I know what you mean,’ said Mick. ‘But at least it gets them off our backs. And someone has to destabilise it. We both agreed on that.’
‘I know. But I would have liked a chance to do it before anyone else. You can bet the last thing the NSA will do is destabilise the thing. The Yanks’ll want to use it.’
Mick nodded in agreement then put his arm around Jesse. ‘Anyway, you got a great story, Oz.
And you’re a deadset genius the way you found the thing. I’m so proud of you.’
Jesse smiled at Mick. ‘And you’re not bad yourself.’ She slipped her arm around Mick’s neck and gave him a quick kiss. ‘Come on, Darryl Dreamboat. Let’s get back to the motel.’
‘Yeah. Let’s.’
With Jesse leading the way, they set off down Burning Mountain. Mick could still sense Jesse’s disappointment, so he left her to her thoughts. Not that Mick felt like any spirited conversation for the moment. After the climb up and all the wild carryings on in the shelter shed, Mick was quite happy the return journey was downhill and he could save his breath.
They spotted a few more wallabies and the odd kangaroo, then the billabongs appeared on their right and they crossed the little metal bridge. Next thing they were leaning against the car, the parking area was deserted and again the only sounds were the birds darting about in the trees.
‘Well,’ puffed Mick. ‘I’d definitely call that a power walk, Oz. But what about the view?’
‘Yes. Wasn’t it fantastic,’ replied Jesse.
‘Just bad luck things didn’t quite work out as they should,’ Mick consoled Jesse as he opened the doors.
‘Yes,’ nodded Jesse. ‘But I know one thing,’ she said, slinging her bag in the back. ‘That first beer’s going to taste good.’
‘Yeah. Mine won’t even touch the sides.’
They piled inside. Mick kicked the motor over and they headed back to Scone.
The away team settled for a quiet afternoon back at the Halscott. After filling themselves with Subway, they checked their guns and made sure the points on the two Mexican switchblades Agent Sierota had provided were needle sharp, then sat around resting or reading Tom Clancy and John Grisham. Later in the afternoon, Agent Moharic suggested they put on the same casual clothes they wore on the plane trip to Australia then go up to the hotel and check everything out. The others agreed and after getting changed they all walked up.