Mike Dixon

There was no sign of the possums and he wondered if
they were hiding behind the tower-like structures that poked
up amongst the beams. He recognized them as termite
mounds. The small creatures had taken over the building
and were turning it into a place of their own. He guessed the
ceiling beams were eaten through. They didn‟t look safe and
he doubted they would support his weight. The tops of the
walls looked a far better bet. They ran between the rooms
and one led straight to Daryl‟s office. David set out along it
and heard voices.
They were coming from one of the bedrooms and be-
longed to Daryl and Noelene. His was little more than a murmur.
Hers was of a far higher pitch and David could make
out every word she said.
„You‟re a bloody fool if you think they won‟t find out.‟
A murmur in reply from Daryl.
„I‟m not talking about the diesel. They know you‟re using
it. They‟re not worried about that. It‟s those other things
you‟re doing. If they find out, we‟ll have big worries.‟
Another murmur from Daryl.
„They don‟t want the police round here. They don‟t want
the DPI round here. They don‟t want anyone round here.‟
David crept forward and came to an old water tank. A
family of possums lived inside and resented the intrusion.
They hissed and tumbled out throwing up clouds of dust. He
kept going and reached a point above the bedroom. He could
hear both of them now.
„You might not like what I‟m doing but you‟ll be happy
enough to have the money,‟ Daryl said. „You want to be out
of here. We‟ll make our pile. Then we‟ll go and buy a pub
down south.‟
„We‟re not making it out of the crocs.‟
„They‟ll come good.‟
255