I still miss my old friend Murphy. I can’t believe that it is almost eight years since I last saw my old mate. He’s gone out of my life… gone somewhere else, maybe he’s needed somewhere else, but I miss my old friend of nearly thirty years, I grew-up with him, we went to the same school, did everything together. We had so much fun together but no more, he’s gone now, out of my life but he is not forgotten.
I remember so well the fateful events in Kalgoorlie beginning when I saw Bob Clark at the Two-Up School in Broad Arrow. I had never expected to see him there, I knew he was not a gambler so why was he here I wanted to know. He hadn’t mentioned a country trip when I talked to him the previous week and I had divulged my plans to visit Kalgoorlie over the New Year holiday. I was to research my book Kalgoorlie Gold and I hoped to gain valuable info from the local gold miners who spent their lives in search of the precious metal in the Goldfields.
Broad Arrow, Kalgoorlie, Western Australia Jan 1 2006
“Are you following me around Bob, or are you here on some secret business with Ginger?” I asked as I sidled up beside him. He showed little surprise at my sudden appearance, he just mumbled.
“Let’s take a walk to my car, we need a beer.”
“Cheers Bob and a Happy New Year.” I said as he handed me a cold can. “So what’s the story, I would never expect to see you in this place, you haven’t taken up gambling have you?”
“I didn’t expect to be here either and I’m not so sure I should be.” he replied in hushed tones even though we were alone in his car. “I not sure it’s such a good idea, it might go all wrong”
He’s not making much sense I thought but I was determined to find out what was causing him so much anxiety.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you anything, it was all hush-hush and not supposed to be in this place. The WACA or Subiaco Oval would have been better venue but they ruled out using anywhere in Perth. I’m up here because of Ginger’s invention. You coming here suggested this might be an alternative site, that’s why we are here in this miserable place.”
I had to agree with Bob it was a miserable place, it being a gambling joint in the middle of the bush, a rough concrete floor in the shape of a ring enclosed with rusting galvanised iron, the sky peeping through holes in the roof. A few rough wooden benches served as seating for the many punters who regularly won or lost thousands of dollars on the turn of two pennies. This was the great Australian gambling game of Two-Up
Before the advent of casinos this was the only legalised Two-Up school in Western Australia. Gamblers from overseas as well as locally were lured to the place. It is also something of a tourist curiosity; a place to spend a little time or money, there is nothing else there except the spinning coins.
“I’m here because of Ginger’s invention.” Bob continued. “If it works, if it’s a success, it could be our saviour, it’s the best idea he has come up with yet, and I do hope it works. They’re all here, watching.”
“Who’s here watching?” I asked. “Who’s here and what are they watching?”
“The police, the army, ASIO, maybe the Americans, there’s a lot of suits in there, they are here to watch the testing of The Anti Terrorist Arrester.”
“What’s that, what does it do?” I wanted to know.
“It works on the suction method, like a giant vacuum cleaner. It can lock on to and grab an object falling from the sky, such as a bomb or a missile and gently lower it safely to the ground.”
“That sounds exciting Bob, I hope it works.” I remembered previous inventions Ginger had worked on, some had not been what could be called successful, but he was not one to give up easily and the odds would say he must get one right eventually but Bob was worried about this one, he was not happy at all.
“So it’s happening to-day here at the Two-Up School, the big test, that’s why we are here.
Four suction beams are set-up outside the gambling ring, disguised as portable toilets, powerful batteries ready to be switched on when the aircraft arrives, hopefully everything will be fine.”
“I hope so too, Bob. Your mate Ginger is a real trier.”
“Yes he is, isn’t he, by the way are you up here on your own or has Murphy tagged along?”
“Ah you know it’s difficult to get away from those two characters. He’s here somewhere, but I haven’t seen him for a couple of days, he’s been taking flying lessons I think?”
Flying lessons! Oh No, it couldn’t be, not Ginger and Murphy. Oh God No!
“We’ll soon know.” Bob said as he checked his watch “It’s almost midday, it’s time. I think it best we stay in the car, just in case something should go wrong.”
He doesn’t seem too confident I thought, then I heard the sound of a low flying light aircraft approaching the Two-Up ring, then the almost silent hum of the suction beams as they were switched on by Ginger from inside the control room that was hidden in the rear of a school bus. All was now in readiness for the big test.
The little plane circled the site a couple of times, the pilot was recognisable as my old mate Murphy, dressed in his green flying suit. A few quick passes to show-off his flying skills then he climbed and swooped in a sneak dive-bomb attack. Ginger on full alert grabbed the bomb and dropped it exactly where he wanted it, beside Bob’s new car. It was a ten-litre can of striped paint, previously borrowed from his shed.
The punters inside of the gambling ring were blissfully unaware of the unusual activities outside. Anyhow watching the two spinning pennies was much more important than the antics of some crazies trying to catch paint bombs.
“That was impressive; Bob, Ginger seems to have got it spot on right at last.”
“Yes it was, but it’s a long way from being over, he’s got to do it at least five times before it can be called a success, and you can bet the next bomb will be bigger and heavier.”
“Well fingers crossed then, what’s next I wonder?”
We didn’t have long to wait. Even as we spoke we could hear the drone from the engine of the little plane as it took off from the salt lake a few kilometres away. Soon it was directly over the two-up school. The payload was much bigger and heavier as Bob had predicted it would be. It looked like a bag of cement as it plummeted from a great height towards the target of unsuspecting gamblers.
Once again Ginger was on top of the situation, the suction beams locked-on and it was but a simple matter to lower the parcel-bomb onto a nearby utility. Well it was almost as easy as that, if the bag hadn’t burst when it hit the blackboy, bringing loud moans from the observers hiding in the bush. However the suction beams had worked well. It was two out of two.
“It’s looking good, Bob.” I was beginning to feel confident in the Ginger and Murphy team. Maybe they could be great? Murphy could handle the light plane well and he was up there with the best at target practice. Bob still in anxious mood wouldn’t commit, only to mumble, “We’ll see!”
The next two attempts went very well, in fact almost perfect. The sawn-off telegraph pole with the sharpened end resembling a rocket was the easiest to capture and it stood like a totem pole between the cars in the middle of the bush car park. No cars were damaged in this attempt. The ball bearings proved to be more difficult, because there were hundreds of them falling in all directions but the beams quickly sucked them in and spat them out the other end.
Once again they had shown they were capable of success and had done what was demanded of them without a hitch. It was a perfect score…So far.
“Better now, Bob?” I asked. Although he looked more at ease he was still being cautious.
“There’s one more to go.” He said, without smiling.
“Is everything Okay over there Ginger?” he shouted.
“Yes everything is A.OK. The last test is coming up.” Ginger sounded confident but I could see that Bob was still not happy.
“He’s going to grab the plane next.” Bob said. “Let’s hope Murphy is in good mood, it’s going to require a lot of nerve and skill.”
“Grab the plane! You’re not serious?” I was shocked to hear such news.
“Well that’s the plan, it should be quite simple and if they can get this one right it should be the clincher.” Bob explained the strategy. “Murphy will fly slowly along a pre-determined flight path and when given the signal from Ginger he will shut-down his engine, the beams have been programmed to follow those co-ordinates and the plane will then be totally in Ginger’s control. The target this time is that burnt-out utility about two hundred metres west of the gambling ring. At least that’s the plan.”
The little plane came into view once again on its final trials run; it was coming in very fast and heading straight for the Two-Up ring, not for the agreed target. Something black and ominous was strapped to its undercarriage. The plane continued on its approach. Murphy had completely ignored instructions; he seemed determined to do something foolish.
“Something’s wrong, Bob.”
“I thought something like this might happen, I had a bad feeling about the whole thing.” Bob groaned. “What’s gone wrong, Ginger?”
Poor Ginger was in a panic, the controls were locked in and he couldn’t free them. Murphy wasn’t answering, he was out of control and what was that gadget hanging from the under-carriage? That was not supposed to be there!
The plane was now in a steep climb, way out of range of the control beams, it appeared to stall for an instant, then with engine screaming it went into a nosedive down, down, aiming for the Two-Up School. What the hell was Murphy up to?
At last the watchers and the gamblers realised that something was wrong, a mass exodus ensued with persons racing for cars or charging into the bush, away from the soon to be demolished gambling ring.
Murphy in the flying bomb seemed intent on mass destruction. Ginger in the control room was fighting a losing battle with a computer that frustrated his every move. In desperation he hit the escape key one last time and with a mighty roar the Arrester Machine was activated, but it started to blow…not suck.
The suction beams had become four uncontrollable blowers generating a wind velocity in the form of a mini tornado. The iron gambling ring was picked-up and sent skyward into the path of the suicide dive-bomber. A massive explosion signalled the end to the final test of the Anti Terrorist Arrester.
* * * * *
The Aftermath
The explosion fortunately was absorbed by the metal structure so there was no loss of life at ground level and apart from minor scratches mostly attributed to the mad scramble through the bush, most got off scot-free. Many cars however were damaged in the fall-out and the gambling ring was blown into thousands of small pieces, scattered in a wide radius. The little plane and its pilot were part of that scenario.
In a short time the experts at the scene had mobilised and a full-scale alert was initiated. We were quickly rounded up for medical assessment and our safety. That’s what they told us, in other words we were to be detained under the new Anti Terrorist Laws, which was detention without charge for twenty-eight days.
I saw Ginger in handcuffs being bundled into a paddy wagon. Bob and I were separated and taken to different locations in Kalgoorlie. Then the questioning began. What had gone wrong, why had Murphy turned feral? Why did he become a suicide bomber, what were his motives? Did I know if he was in the pay of some foreign power? The questioning went on for hours and hours, all I could do was to tell the truth, but it seemed we were all under suspicion and I was one of the prime suspects.
They had a whole lot of questions that needed to be answered before I would be released onto society again, but I couldn’t give them answers, because I knew nothing of the test or that Murphy would be involved in it until I met Bob that morning at the Two-Up site. There was no way that I was responsible for what had occurred. That’s what I told them, over and over again, but to no avail, the grilling went on for hours for day’s maybe. I was locked away in solitary somewhere, I knew not where. I soon lost track of time, I didn’t know if I was still in Kalgoorlie or even in Australia.
After what seemed an eternity I was given a document to sign, I was told it was the Official Secrets Act and I was made aware of the consequences if I were to divulge anything I had seen or heard regarding the incident at Broadarrow. After signing, I would be free to go about my business, just keep your mouth shut and you might live to be a ripe old age, I was warned. “Remember we know all about you. There is nowhere to hide.”
I signed the document gladly, hoping to get out of that place as soon as possible but first I would be made aware of the official slant to the unfortunate accident.
An underground gas explosion caused by a minor earth shift possibly the result of excessive mining in the district demolished the Two-Up School. James Francis Patrick Murphy was killed when the single-engine plane he was flying was unfortunately directly overhead when the explosion occurred.
Two days later I found myself back in Kalgoorlie cop station where I was to be prepared for release back into society, a final lecture on the protocol demanded and the dangers of relating anything of what happened at Broadarrow. My previously confiscated personal property was returned to me including my car, which was in a sparkling clean condition. The experts had probably pulled the thing apart, fortunately nothing was found to link me to any subversive activity otherwise I wouldn’t be walking free for a long time. I was an innocent man caught up in circumstances not of my making yet they had locked me away for ten days without apology and put my life in a position of eternal fear.
“Go back to Perth, Mr O’Sullivan and forget what happened here.” The old policeman told me. “You don’t want the spooks on your back for the rest of your life; they will be watching your every move, so be careful, just go home and forget it, I’m sorry about your friend, Murphy. He has named you as next of kin so you must formally identify the body, it’s just a formality, and it’s something you must do so we can cremate the remains. The state of W.A will take care of the details; all you have to do is to sign the papers.
Reluctantly I agreed to do my duty for my old friend, no matter what dreadful tomfoolery he had got involved in and he had paid the ultimate price for his foolhardiness, we had been friends for a long time I really didn’t hate him for causing the troubles I was now faced with.
In the morgue I saw a nondescript shape covered with a sheet, Murphy was but a small collection of incinerated bones. “Just sign the paper, the old cop prompted, the cremation is in two days time maybe you would like to stick around for that, and then you must put it all behind you and forget it ever happened.”
On Friday Jan 14th at 3pm a large crowd gathered at the crematorium chapel to pay last respects to the good man who had lost his life in that terrible accident. After a brief ceremony conducted by Fr Burke PP of Kalgoorlie the remains of James Francis Patrick Murphy were committed to his final resting place in the Garden Of Remembrance. I commissioned a plaque with words I thought apt for the occasion, it will read. Rise To Great Heights and Go Out With A Bang.
I noticed some teary-eyed female mourners at the service that day, Murphy had been a likable fellow and was never short of company, he made friends easily.
I didn’t see Bob or Ginger there, I reckoned they must be still in custody; I said a final prayer for the immortal soul of my departed good friend and left for Perth next morning at dawn.
Back in Perth and hoping to resume normal duties was not easy, how could I forget or pretend the events I had been part of did not occur. I had gone to the goldfields to research my book “Kalgoorlie Gold” but alas that had not happened. I had basically made no progress on that project, and would need to return at some later stage, but I had become involved in a series of intriguing events that I am compelled to wipe from my memory.
That was not easy to cope with, I couldn’t accept that something as serious as what had occurred could be covered-up by the authorities and erased from the minds of witnesses using threats of imprisonment and perhaps death to achieve their aims. I didn’t believe it to be the norm in the free world. But I was wrong. The truth was hidden in a conspiracy of lies in the name of National Security.
I tried to get back into my former life, to resurrect my writing career but the creative juices were not responding, my head told me to get on with the job but in reality I was still locked in solitary somewhere scared and threatened. Although free now to move around as I pleased, the threat was ever present.
“They will be watching your every move.” the old Kalgoorlie cop had warned me, I think he was right; I had that feeling of not being entirely alone.
I missed the presence of Murphy, there was never a dull moment with him around, and he always had something out of the ordinary or unusual on the agenda. I often ended up as his fall guy but I had never known him to actually do anything illegal but he was capable of being pigheaded and silly sometimes.
I couldn’t accept he was gone out of my life forever, he had named me his next of kin so I busied myself in putting his affairs in order, the next few weeks were filled with all the legal arrangements required by law, and I became the heir to his modest fortune.
Bob or Ginger had not shown up in their usual places, I rang several times but there was no response except for an answering machine that clicked in an unusual manner, I imagined there was someone listening, so I didn’t leave a message. I called round to Bob’s unit only to find a For Sale sign out the front, a neighbour told me they had gone overseas just after Xmas and had no plans to return to Australia. Ginger had been offered a well-paid position in the America, working for the Defence Department.
That was certainly a revelation, what was going on I wondered?
After hearing that piece of information I began to wonder if there weren’t more slants to the happening at Broadarrow than we were expected to believe, there seemed to be a few extra twists to the bow, maybe even a conspiracy or two.
What was the outcome to that fateful afternoon apart from proving the Anti Terrorist Arrester really was a success? That had been demonstrated on four separate occasions when Murphy had flown the light plane unerringly to the nominated target. Why then did the final fifth test run become a disaster resulting in destruction and the death of my friend? There was more to that incident than a rogue pilot going off the rails and there was something else too…why did Ginger’s computer malfunction at that critical moment. Was the “test” a demonstration of something far more sinister and were Ginger and Murphy mere pawns in a game played for high stakes?
Although there was nothing I could do without attracting attention and landing myself in gaol or worse, I was determined to clear Murphy’s name at least to my own satisfaction. I spent many hours going through his personal effects looking for a sign that might link him to any illegal or criminal organization. I found nothing incriminating in the several suitcases that stored his personal papers and letters and his bank balance was as I would have expected it to be, modest but in the black. If he had received payment for his crazy activity it wasn’t in his bank, I found nothing to link Murphy to anything more sinister than he being a man determined to have a good time out of life. So what had caused him to act in such a reckless manner and was he just the fall guy?
I was convinced that Murphy’s death was not of his making, he was no terrorist he was not a criminal, there had to be something else, something that had gone wrong resulting in the tragedy but whatever it was I was in no position to learn. How could I hope to clear his name with the fear of reprisal uppermost in my mind, I reckoned the answers lay in the goldfields and I had a legitimate reason in going back there and poking around. I still needed to do research for my book otherwise it would never be finished, I should say never get started, I had neglected my writing over the past year and a half, the Kalgoorlie Gold title was the only positive move I had made in that project.
I decided to return to Kalgoorlie as soon as possible, but I would make some arrangements to safeguard my hide. I would tell anyone who would listen of my plans and how long I would be there and when I should be expected to return hoping I might avoid some nasty accidents along the way. I may be paranoid and over-cautious but I always believed preparation being paramount to any successful operation.
As Bob and Ginger had not returned to Perth and the unit in Spearwood had long been sold, I imagined that would be the last I would see or hear of them. I could only hope they would do well in the United States if that was where they now call home. I think they may have done very well according to the article I read recently in The New Scientist Magazine.
The Americans are testing a new anti-terrorist defensive weapon, a series of powerful suction beams that will be able to lock on to flying or falling objects and deposit them safely onto the ground. That sounds familiar.
My road-trip to the goldfields was completed without incident and on arrival I booked a room for a week in Paddy’s Ale House in Hannan Street. My first task was to revisit the site of the Two-Up site where it had all happened, the memory of that day so fresh in my mind it might have been only yesterday although nearly eighteen months had elapsed.
I found all trace of the disaster had been wiped clear, the bulldozers had done their job of levelling and filling the site and the bush had regenerated with shrubs and wildflowers in abundance. Man, machine and nature had combined in a great cover-up. Bush Two-Up at Broadarrow is now just a memory but I found there is a modernised version of the game called Fun-Time Two-Up operating at Sheffields Bar & Grill Burt Street Boulder where you can relive the excitement of the toss of the pennies and learn the rules of the historic game.
I next visited Kalgoorlie Cemetery to say a prayer at the final resting place of my friend Murphy. I was relieved to see the commemorative plaque was in place as I had instructed, also the Garden Of Remembrance was maintained in beautiful condition. I reckoned Murphy would have nothing to complain about sleeping in such pleasant surroundings.
The End, for now.