Solomons Seal (25 page)

I noticed him as soon as we entered the room. He was the centre of a little group in the corner by the window, all of them short, barrel-chested men with bare splayed feet like shovels and heavy broad-nosed features. He was dressed in immaculate white shirt and shorts, white stockings and black shoes, but he was of the same ethnic type, broad-shouldered and stocky with a large, heavily boned head. He stood out from the others, not just on account of his dress, but because of the brightness of his eyes, the vitality in his face, his dominant personality. One of his group nodded in our direction, and he turned, his mouth
open on a word, staring. And Perenna, beside me, said on a note of surprise, ‘I know that man. I'm sure I do. It's Tagup. He's one of the Chimbu tribal chiefs from the Kuamegu area.' And she started towards him.

The man detached himself from his group and came over to her, smiling now, his hand outstretched in greeting. On the pocket of his white shirt a silver shield gleamed. I watched the two of them for a moment as they greeted each other, the white girl with the orange-red cap of hair and the black man from the Highlands of Papua New Guinea in his white European clothes. They made a strange, contrasting pair. Then, as they continued talking, I went over to the desk clerk and explained our business. He said he would see the Immigration Officer as soon as he was free, and I lit a cigarette and took up a position against the wall where I could survey the room. I didn't go over and join Perenna. It didn't seem important, not then, and anyway, they were talking in a mixture of Pidgin and some local language. After a few minutes the man from Papua New Guinea was called away to lead his group into one of the offices, and Perenna rejoined me, excited at this unexpected renewal of contact with the people she had grown up amongst. ‘It
was
Tagup. A marvellous man! I was telling him about Tim – I knew he'd understand, and I thought he might help me—' She broke off abruptly, hesitated, then went on quickly in an artificially light voice. ‘He's one of their fight leaders. I didn't expect to find men of the Chimbu people here, and he is from a village quite close to Kuamegu. As a kid I used to cheer them
on.' She laughed. ‘It's rather like a football match really, a sort of fight display, a show. Unless they've really got something to fight about; then it's serious. But he's a Councillor now. That's the silver shield he was wearing.'

‘What's he doing here then?' I asked. ‘He's not looking for a labouring job surely.'

‘No, he says he's come to find out what the magic is the whites have discovered here that is making so much money for the PNG government, and also for the Chimbu people who come to work in Bougainville. He says it's disrupting village and clan life, that men who are no better than rubbish men – he called them that – come back with money to buy pigs and cassowaries and are able to display more property at the sing-sings than the chiefs and elders.' The clerk caught my eye and indicated the door marked Immigration. ‘He was very concerned about it,' she said.

‘Disturbs the village pecking order?'

She nodded, and I pushed open the door for her. ‘It's a very complex, very paternalistic social structure, and if it is undermined, there'll be chaos. They're fighters. They're a fighting people …'

It was almost 17.30 when our passports were finally stamped and we went out to the car. The rain had eased, but humidity remained heavy, the daylight fading so that we could see lights in Arawa glimmering through the trees. In the bay behind us there was nothing visible at all. ‘Is it always like this?' I asked Perenna.

She nodded. ‘Most days the humidity builds up to
rain by late afternoon. It's different in Buka. Buka is comparatively low, but this is a very mountainous island.' I knew that from the chart. The Crown Prince Range was over 5,000 feet, and there were other mountains along the spine of the island that were a thousand or more feet higher. ‘As soon as the sun sets and it starts getting cooler, the rain gradually exhausts itself. You'll see. A couple of hours from now the stars will be out, and it will be a lovely evening.'

We got into the car, and I started the engine. ‘What do you plan to do,' I asked her, ‘now that you're here and you've got your visa? Will you just stay on the ship with your brother, or are you going to get a job?'

She didn't answer for a moment, sitting very still and gazing ahead through the clicking windscreen wipers. ‘I don't know,' she murmured huskily. ‘I had it all planned – when I was on that cruise ship. If Tim was ever well enough to look after himself, I was going to come out here and look after the business side so that Jona wouldn't have anything to do but run the ship. And when you got me that money … ' She was smiling. ‘Well, it seemed like an omen, everything suddenly simple and straightforward, and those stamps a symbol of good luck for a change. But now … ' The smile had faded. ‘Now it all seems different, so many things I don't understand. Jona, for instance. He's not a bit as I remember him. He used to be so carefree. And Mac …' She hesitated, shaking her head. And then, her voice livelier: ‘Better drive back to the hospital. I think Fred will have had enough of his friend's operation by now.' She turned to me, smiling again,
her mood suddenly relaxed, almost intimate. ‘I've got quite a lot of Australian dollars left, and the Immigration Officer said they were just as good currency as the local
kina.
If we can find a decent restaurant, I'd like you to have dinner with me.'

‘This isn't our car,' I reminded her.

‘No. But I'm not spending the evening listening to how they built one of the greatest mines in the world. There'll be taxis.' Her hand touched mine. ‘If not, we can thumb a ride or else walk. Or don't you want to walk me home to my ship?'

Her eyes were laughing, a direct invitation. I put my arm round her and kissed her. The softness of her mouth, the leap of my blood at the feel of her through the thin cotton shirt – I suddenly had other ideas. ‘If he's tired of his friend, he can always chat up one of the nurses.' I was trying to recall a suitable place to park. Two blacks passed, a man and a woman, both of them huddled under an umbrella. I put the car into gear and drove out of the parking lot on to the narrow ribbon of tarmac. The glare of headlights showed ahead, tree boles became moving shadows, the lights swung, undipped and blinding. It was a truck, and as I pulled in to the side to let it pass, just before dipping my headlights I caught a glimpse of the driver.

I heard the catch of Perenna's breath, and suddenly she reached across and flicked the dipper back to high beam. The truck was barely twenty yards away, and I saw him clearly, his teeth showing in a big grin, his broad face frowning in concentration under his woolly head of hair. It was the bos'n's mate, a man called
Malulu, and Teopas was sitting in the cab beside him. The truck roared past us with a sudden burst of acceleration, the same truck that had come down to the port to pick up the crew, and turning my head, I saw the back of it was full of men.

She caught hold of my arm, her head twisted round, her voice urgent: ‘Were they all from the ship? What are they doing here? This road only leads to the Provincial Government offices and on down to the shore. Do you think there's a café there or a liquor store?' She was staring at me, suddenly very tense, so that I wondered whether she, too, had seen the glint of metal among the packed bodies. It had only been a glimpse in the red glow of our rear lights and I couldn't be sure … ‘I think we should go back,' she said.

‘No.' I parked the car and switched off the engine. Darkness closed in on us, the trees dripping. ‘You wait here.'

But she was out in a flash. ‘If they're up to something, I want to know.'

I turned on her, facing her across the roof of the car. ‘Just do what you're told. Please. Get in the driving seat and wait for me.' I didn't stop to see what she did. I just started back down the almost dark road, moving quietly and stopping now and then to listen. I could hear the sound of voices, and then shadows emerged out of the gloom ahead. They were moving in a bunch down the road towards me. I slipped in among the trees and watched as the people from the waiting room hurried past. They were talking amongst themselves, but I couldn't understand what they said,
only that they seemed excited about something, constantly glancing back over their shoulders.

When they were beyond the bend, I stepped back on to the road. My watch showed that it was now after 17.40. They could have been ordered to leave because the offices were closing and their excitement no more than anger at having to return next day. But somehow it hadn't sounded like that. And when I turned the next bend, and was in sight of the headquarters, there was nobody in the parking lot, the official cars still standing dark and empty and all the lights on in the offices. The truck was parked outside the main entrance. Its lights were off, and I could only just see it. Had I been mistaken? Was this merely some sort of a deputation to the local Commissioner? Beyond the truck a man moved in the shadow of the trees. I wouldn't have seen him except that the entrance door had been opened and for a moment he was illumined in a shaft of light.

I knew then that I had not been wrong. The light glinted on the short barrel of the machine-pistol cradled on his arm. A voice spoke, and he moved towards the door. It was the driver, Malulu. I retreated softly into the shadows, wondering whether to wait for some confirmation of what I was beginning to fear or drive straight to the police. But all I had seen was a man with a gun. Hardly sufficient to convince them of a hold-up, or perhaps the kidnapping of a senior PNG official.

And then a light suddenly blazed out from a darkened room on my side of the building. There was a
shout, the sound of feet on a wooden floor, and the window was flung open, a man starting to climb out. He saw me and hesitated. A door banged. He turned his head, his mouth opening in a scream, but the scream was cut short as the outline of his head and shoulders was jerked away from the window. I heard the soft thud of a blow, a gurgling gasp, followed by a dragging sound, then silence.

The light went out, and I stood there, shocked into immobility. Malulu came round the corner of the building and stood looking over the parked cars. Then he went back to the main entrance. I began to move cautiously through the trees bordering the road. As soon as I reached the bend, I stepped out of concealment and began to run.

I met Perenna coming towards me. ‘I thought I heard a shout. That Chimbu chief – Tagup …'

‘Get back to the car,' I told her. ‘Quick!'

‘What is it? What's happened?' She was running beside me. ‘Tagup said they had been ordered out of the office they were in, all of them, by a gang of armed men.'

We had reached the second bend. The car was still there, and no sign of anybody near it. ‘Get in.' I flung myself into the driving seat and had the engine on and the car moving before she had shut her door. ‘What else did your Chimbu friend tell you?' I switched the headlights to high beam. ‘Did he know what they were up to?'

‘No. He didn't seem to understand what was going
on. He was worried about the safety of his people. He's a redskin, you see …'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘Anybody from Papua New Guinea. They're lighter-skinned, and it seems there's been trouble between them and the Bougainvilleans.' We reached the main road, and I turned right, towards the town. ‘Was it really a hold-up? What happened?'

I told her briefly, and by the time I had finished we were at the first house. I parked right against the entrance, jumped out and beat on the door. A woman answered it. ‘May I use your phone, please?'

She looked at me, startled, a small pale face under a fringe of dark hair. ‘Why? Has there been an accident?'

‘Excuse me.' I pushed past her. ‘Where is it?'

‘The phone?' She seemed slightly dazed. A record player was blaring in the background. ‘It's over there, by the kitchen. But you can't use it. Not now.'

‘Why not?'

‘Something's gone wrong with it. Sandra – that's my daughter – she was trying to ring a friend. Then I tried, but it's out of order, I guess. I'm sorry. Can I help at all? If it's an accident … '

‘I'll try the next house,' I said, and left her standing there with her mouth agape.

It was a man who answered the door this time. He worked in Community Relations and knew the number of the police. But when he tried to get it for me, he found the phone was dead. ‘Looks like there's a fault in the line for this part of the town. If it's urgent, you'd find it quicker to drive there.' He started
to give me directions, but now that I was faced with people in their houses, living their normal lives, I was beginning to realise how difficult it was going to be to convince anyone of what I had seen.

‘I'll go direct to the hospital,' I said.

‘It's an accident, is it?'

‘Something like that.'

‘Anything I can do? If you've run down one of the indigenes—'

‘No. It's something else.'

He stood in the doorway, watching me as I drove off, a puzzled, uncertain look on his face. ‘We'll go to the hospital,' I told Perenna. ‘We can get Perry to ring the police from there.'

‘You didn't get them then?'

‘No. His phone was out, too.'

She was silent for a moment; then she said quietly, ‘Do you think we'll find all the phones are out?'

The same thought was in my mind, but it was something I didn't want to think about. ‘We'll know when we get to the hospital.' I was wishing now I had told the man what had happened. In Community Relations he might have known if there was any trouble brewing. I glanced at Perenna, sitting tight-lipped beside me. ‘Did your brother give you any hint about what those guns might be used for?'