Mike Dixon

The thought was sobering. Charlie had estimated the
weight of Tong Yee‟s gold at thirty kilograms. Tim had died
for that. From the way the man was struggling, each of the
packages weighed far more.
The packages were placed in a neat pile. There were
twenty plus one the big man buried in a hole when the slim
man wasn‟t looking. David guessed he intended to keep it
for himself.
Then some boxes were unloaded, followed by an arsenal
of guns. The slim man continued to fuss over the plane,
checking everything from the engine to tire pressure. He was
still fussing when Daryl arrived in the Volvo. The packages,
boxes and guns were loaded into the lorry and they drove
off.
he rain had stopped when he reached the Dutch-
T man‟s cave. The old fellow was playing with his
dogs. The two huge animals lowered their heads and
growled when David approached. He knew the routine. It
didn‟t matter who you were, you had to pay your dues. He
threw them some ham sandwiches, which Noelene had pre-
pared, and was allowed to proceed.
A bench stood beneath the overhanging rock that formed
the entry to the underground dwelling. The old man called it
his „stoop‟, a term David translated as porch. The next was
„sundowner‟, which he translated as drink. Sunset was a
while away but that didn‟t worry the Dutchman. He produced
a bottle of rum and poured a glass for David.
„There‟s been movement on the block.‟
„There has …‟ David fell into the idiom. It was part of the
slow, economical speech of the Australian bush. He‟d encountered
it in TV series. Now, he realized it was for real.
There really were people who spoke it.
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