Not that that is unusual, Willy told himself. They might all be away at some job—mustering or branding or something—if it is a genuine cattle station that is.
His suspicious mind told him that if there was something illegal or unusual going on then the people running it would certainly maintain an appearance of normality.
So there will be a few genuine stockmen and whatnot, he thought.
By then he was at the entrance to the hangar and he had to mentally prepare himself for the next challenge. If Barry is there just act normal, he told himself. And have a good story ready to explain where you have been.
And Barry was there. As Willy turned into the hangar he met Barry hurrying towards the entrance, his face clouded with worry. As soon as he saw Willy his face changed to a smile.
A false smile, Willy told himself.
“There you are! Where have you been?” Barry asked.
“Just to the toilet,” Willy answered, gesturing in that direction. He smiled in return and kept walking but felt his stomach churn and his palms go sweaty.
Barry shook his head. “Please don’t do that again. There are guard dogs here and they might have attacked you. I will take you if you need to go anywhere.”
Willy could only nod. He kept on walking until he reached Mr Drew who was now leaning over the engine from up on a work platform. Barry spun round and walked back with him. To Willy he looked as though he was trying not to look worried.
But I might be mistaken. I might have misunderstood what that Zoltan was implying, he admitted to himself as he watched Mr Drew unscrew a pipe connection.
Work now gave Willy a reason to ignore Barry. He pretended to be absorbed by the technical aspects of the job—and he was genuinely interested and kept asking questions to have the procedure made clear to him. But the whole time he was very aware of Barry’s presence. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch and made him feel very uncomfortable. Luckily it was so hot and sweaty in the steel shed that he kept moving anyway, wiping perspiration from his face and hands. Now he just wanted to get away from the place and was very keen to have the engine fixed.
A middle-aged man in greasy grey overalls came into the hangar carrying a tray with sandwiches, biscuits, two glasses and cold water in a jug. “G’day. I’m Seth, the maintenance man and general dog’s body. The boss said to come an’ give youse a hand,” he announced.
Mr Drew stopped and gave a friendly introduction as he wiped his hands on a cloth. Then he shook hands and took one of the glasses of cold water. “My word, I need this!” he said.
Willy also gave his name but Seth made no move to shake his hand, leaving Willy feeling devalued and a little annoyed. Thinks I am just a no-account kid I suppose, he mused. Seth certainly seemed to just ignore him and soon took over the job of helping Mr Drew, handing him the right tool and taking parts to clean or inspect.
That left Willy with nothing to do but stand and watch. That peeved him both because he was part of the aircraft’s crew but also because he genuinely wanted to learn and to help. But the men just ignored him and all he could do was stand and feel irritable, sulky, and suspicious.
It took Mr Drew about half an hour to reach the stage of testing the engine. To Willy it seemed like a half a day. By the end of it he was edgy with nervousness and even more convinced that the men weren’t acting normally.
Or they are just unfriendly perhaps, he thought.
Mr Carter walked back into the hangar just as the engine was started. His presence made Willy feel even more nervous as he was all cheerful chat and smiles which to Willy did not seem sincere. Mr Drew appeared not to notice anything as he was absorbed by the technical task. He leaned out and cautioned them all to stand clear then the motor wheezed and coughed and the propeller swung rapidly. The motor burst into life with a healthy roar, amplified and echoing in the confines of the hangar. Mr Drew looked up and smiled, then sat watching the gauges as he eased the throttle to a steady roar. Even though the propeller was feathered it still sent swirls of dust eddying around the hangar and Willy had to half close his eyes and found himself coughing.
After a couple of minutes Mr Drew switched off and leaned out. “Seems OK now,” he commented. He climbed down and held out his hand. “Well, we’ll be off then. Thanks for the help Mr Carter.”
Mr Carter smiled and shook hands. Barry did likewise and Seth gave a friendly nod as he replaced tools on the wall boards. “Any time,” Mr Carter said.
Mr Drew turned to Willy. “OK lad, start earning your passage. Help ’em push the bus out into the open.”
Willy moved to the starboard wing strut and put his weight against it. Mr Carter and Barry also helped push and a minute later the aircraft was standing in the blazing sunshine on the apron in front of the hangar. All the while Willy kept studying the men and trying to surreptitiously observe the buildings, wondering what it was the men were hiding. He became so anxious he found his heart racing and his breath coming in rapid gasps.
Calm down you fool! he told himself. He forced a relaxed smile onto his face and wiped his sweaty palms and upper lip, hoping the men would put it down to the blistering summer heat. Come on Mr Drew! he thought irritably. Stop chatting and let’s get out of here.
Then, as he went to climb aboard, a peculiar vibrating noise came to Willy’s ears. He recognized it instantly as the buzzing of a helicopter and he looked to his left along the airstrip. The others stopped talking and looked that way as well. A tiny black dot quickly resolved itself into a small two seat helicopter of the type used for mustering and checking fences.
A Bell 209, Willy noted.
Mr Drew stood watching and said to Mr Carter, “Yours?”
Mr Carter nodded. “Yeah. Belongs to the station. This will be the owner.”
“The owner?” Mr Drew queried casually.
“Yeah. He’s a Pitt Street farmer, a Sydney business man who is spreading his investments. Buying cattle properties is his latest hobby,” Mr Carter answered.
The helicopter came buzzing down low over the bitumen and landed fifty paces away in the usual swirl of dust and hot air and engine smells. As it settled Willy noted that the pilot was a young dark-haired man with dark glasses. Next to him was a big bear of a man in a white, long sleeve shirt. He also wore tinted glasses and had curly grey hair.
The owner climbed out while the pilot held the helicopter steady as its rotors were still flicking overhead. As the owner walked towards them Willy studied him and did not like what he saw. The man was beefy and wrinkled, with beetling brows and a pronounced paunch. To add to Willy’s feeling of distaste he saw that the man had bushy eyebrows and tufts of hair in his ears and nostrils.
The man stopped in front of Mr Drew and hauled up his baggy grey trousers. After giving Willy a cursory glance he turned back to Mr Drew and held out his hand. “Enzo Dragovisic,” he said.
Mr Drew shook hands and introduced himself and Willy. Mr Dragovisic did not even glance at Willy. Instead, he gave a grin that Willy thought of as a false crocodile smile, then said in a thick foreign accent, “You have der engine problems eh?”
“Yes. But it is fixed now,” Mr Drew replied. “We will be on our way.”
Mr Dragovisic nodded and said, “Good. Glad ve could help. Anytime, eh?”
“Sure,” Mr Drew replied with a smile. He then turned and moved to climb into the aircraft. Willy did likewise, a feeling of unreasonable relief sweeping through him as he settled in the starboard seat. As he did up his seat belt and closed the door he saw that the men had moved a few paces away and were watching them with smiles on their faces.
They