Mike Dixon

Tim recognized the photographs. They‟d been taken from
outer space and were in a format used by the armed forces.
They were the raw data the military had relied upon, only a
few years earlier, when he was in the army. He wondered
how Charlie had got hold of them. „There‟s Cooktown,‟ he
pointed to a spot on the North Queensland coast.
„That‟s right,‟ David nodded. „It‟s small so it doesn‟t stand
out real sharp. But it was much bigger when Tong Yee was
there.‟
Tim knew all about Cooktown but Tong Yee was something
different.
„Is that his name?‟
„Yeah! He changed it to Thomas Lee when he became
Australian. I‟ve got a photo of him.‟ David rummaged in the
folder and pulled out a photograph of a sharply featured
young man in expensive Western dress: high collar, embroidered
waistcoat, watch chain, brandy glass and blond girl.
Tim was impressed. He stared back and forth between
the girl‟s bulging attributes and the powerfully built young
man beside her. Tong Yee was the sort of guy he could understand.
He looked really fit and his women were stunning.
„He could get a job as a film star if he was alive today.‟
„Yeah,‟ David nodded. „One of those kung fu movies. Tong
Yee was a breath-hold diver. Charlie reckons he could have
gone down to a hundred feet.‟
„When was it taken?‟
„About 1890.‟
„Jesus!‟ Tim lent forward. „That young sheila would be
130 years old by now … and she‟s giving me a rise.‟
„From what Sue Lynne says, the girl was probably a pros-
titute. She says the prostitutes came from England, Scotland
and Ireland, the brandy and the posh clothes came
from France and the gold came out of the streams.‟
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