The Richard Jackkson Saga Book 14: What's Under? Down Under.
Ed & Carol Nelson
The Richard Jackson Saga
Book 14: What’s Under?
Down Under.
By Ed Nelson
Other books by Ed Nelson
The Richard Jackson Saga
Book 1 The Beginning
Book 2 Schooldays.
Book 3 Hollywood!
Book 4 In the Movies
Book 5 Star to Deckhand
Book 6 Surfing Dude
Book 7 Third Time is a Charm
Book 8: Oxford University
Book 9: Cold War
Book 10: Taking Care of Business
Book 11: Interesting Times
Book 12: Escape From Siberia
Book 13: Regicide
Book 14: What’s Under. Down Under?
Stand Alone Stories
Ever and Always
Dedication
This is dedicated to my wife Carol for her support and help as my first reader and editor.
Thanks to my Editors: Ernest Bywater, Lonelydad57, Old Rotorhead, and Antti.
Also, the Bellefontaine High School Class of 1962, just because.
Quotation
“That’s the way it happened, give or take a lie or two.”
James Garner as Wyatt Earp describing the gunfight at the OK Corral in the movie Sunset.
Copyright © 2021
E. E. Nelson
All rights reserved.
Eastern Shore Publishing
2331 Del Webb Blvd. W.
Sun City Center, FL 33573
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1953395-29-0
Table of Contents
The Richard Jackson Saga
Other books by Ed Nelson
Dedication
Quotation
Copyright © 2021
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 1
I realized I was exhausted after all my running around the world then hiking in and out of Korea to kill Haoran. I decided to head back to the states to rest at Jackson House for a while.
It was fun coming home to my family. I hadn’t got to spend time with any of them for months.
The biggest change was in Denny. He was now seventeen and looked all of it. He had a growth spurt and it looked like he might catch up with me. He was already six foot three.
Eddie and Mary had also grown but not that much. Mary seemed more mature all the time. Eddie was still waiting on puberty to hit, but it would be any day now.
Mum and Dad were still Mum and Dad. They both had a little grey in their hair but not much.
Mrs. Hernandez was getting married and would soon be moving out of the house. The way she had dated, I thought she would marry some highflier. Instead, he seemed to be a down-to-earth nice guy who owned his own insurance agency.
I loafed around for the first week, playing some golf, and surfing.
I even stopped by the studio to see what was going on, but everyone was busy on sets. I did get roped into being an extra in a sword-fighting scene. I wasn’t even fighting one of the main characters. It was a byplay in the background. I bet it ended up on the cutting room floor.
Mum was having one of her charity events. I was waiting for the shoe to drop and be asked to escort some young lady. The shoe didn’t drop. Is it possible to be disappointed and relieved at the same time?
I did make the time in my second week to go over to the new R&D campus. The buildings weren’t all new as some bold start-up overreached themselves and lost it all. We picked it up for a song.
There would still be many additions made but it was a good start. The building I was interested in was the “Desktop Computer” building. There they were prototyping and testing the first commercial computers which would sit on an office desk and maybe in homes in the future.
The hardware was working like a charm. That is except for early burnout of components. They had to bring the supply chain up to expectations.
The real problem was the green screen of death. This would appear when the software is locked up. The only way to get out of it was to reboot the computer, hoping the software problem wasn’t in the rebooting sequence.
To fix this issue they had to run tests, thousands upon thousands of tests. The computer had to be run until the green screen popped up, then the experts would take over and try to figure out where the conflict in the code was occurring.
They had a huge building with five hundred computers set up. These were run twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Anyone in the area that wanted to work had a job. There were men and women from age sixteen to eighty-seven running the machines.
Even then we had problems getting enough people until a childcare center was set up, and bus pickups arranged.
They were testing every program that we had. I was told that if we didn’t do this, we could kill the industry before it ever started. The worse thing we could do was release a program that had errors and let the public debug it for us.
I agreed with the concept but had to wonder what would be found when we went from thousands of tests to millions, every day.
My life had gotten very quiet. It was almost to the point of boring. That is if playing golf, surfing, and cruising ever got boring.
That came to a crashing halt the next afternoon. I was at home reading in the library when the phone rang. Mum answered and told them to hang on, “I’ll get him.”
It was Mr. Norman for me.
“Rick, we have to make this quick. At this moment two Interpol agents accompanied by two FBI agents are on the way to your house to arrest you for the murder of Haoran.”
“What!”
“When the South Korean troops wearing blue UN helmets went to that resort, they were shown Haoran’s body with your arrows in him. What were you thinking, leaving something like that at the scene of a black operation?”
“It was meant to be a message to the North Korean government.”
“Which doesn’t exist anymore.”
“What should I do?”
“Get out of the United States as quickly as possible.”
“Thanks, I will let you know where I end up.”
Mum who had been hovering in the background understood part of the conversation. I brought her up to date.
“I thought I taught you better than that, leaving evidence!”
“But the US, China, and the UK all had parts in it.”
“All deniable, now get going.”
I threw some clothes in a carryall and went out the backdoor. As I was leaving, I heard a call to Mum from the front gate. The FBI was here with an arrest warrant.
I took a jeep and drove over to the Forestry Service station. There I borrowed a phone from the front office. My jet crew wasn’t immediately available. I planned for them to meet me in Vancouver.
I flew north in my Cessna. It was a beautiful day for flying but I paid no attention to that. I was trying to figure out what was going on.
Haoran’s death must have been reported through UN channels, who in turn contacted Interpol. Interpol with a working arrangement with the FBI had tracked me down to California and was going to arrest me.
I could hold the thing up in court forever, from fighting extradition to challenging the argument, that just because the arrows looked like mine, they were mine.
There was also the fact that a SEAL team had provided support on one of the missions. They wouldn’t want that to come out.
I refueled and ate in Oakland and finished the twelve-hundred-mile trip in eight hours.
I had no problem with Canadian Immigration as I used my UK Diplomatic passport.
Taking a taxi to a local hotel I spent a restless night playing through scenarios in my head.
At ten o’clock the next morning my 707 touched down, I was waiting in the private aviation terminal. While waiting I hired a pilot to fly my Cessna back to LA. He was bonded to ferry private planes, so I didn’t anticipate any problems.
I had decided to fly to Hong Kong. As the Duke of Hong Kong, I had the most power there, of any place I could go.
Harold was on board the aircraft waiting with a handful of newspapers. They were all the prominent tabloids and all their headlines screamed about a murderer or assassin on the loose. Me.
They were all speculating where I would turn up. Hong Kong or China were high on their list.
Who said, “Any publicity is good publicity?”
The flight to Hong Kong seemed shorter than usual but I suppose it was because of my starting point. The landing in Hong Kong was hairy as usual. They had flattened Checkerboard hill so they could lengthen the runway, but it was still a challenge.
The press was waiting in droves. I went from my aircraft to a waiting helicopter and was flown to Jackson House. As the helicopter circled the field before landing, I could see cars and vans lined up behind the gates.
I was about to unass from the helicopter; Boris ran up to me.
“Boss you got to get out of here. Interpol is in the house with warrants.”
I hadn’t even gotten out of the chopper, and we were airborne back to Kai Tek. I kicked myself all the way. Hong Kong is a British Crown colony so Interpol could go there.
Back at the airport the flight crew was still disembarking so they reboarded, and we took off to Beijing. They all thought it was a lark.
I wasn’t laughing.
Chapter 2
Since my arrival in Beijing was unannounced there was no fancy escort waiting for me. I hired a taxi; Harold would follow me later with my gear. I told him to wait until notified or he saw me running to the plane. I wasn’t certain what my welcome would be.
I found out quickly as the guards at the gate warmly welcomed me home. It looked like I wouldn’t be thrown in prison at once.
I had to wait in my room for a summons from the Empress. It gave me a chance to clean up and refresh a little. I was still a bundle of nerves over this whole deal.
Within the hour, I was taken to the Empress's private suite. That in itself was good news. That or she didn’t want to be seen with me in public.
“Greetings Richard, you have certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons. How are you doing?”
“Tired and confused.”
“I’m not surprised. You will be glad to hear that we are working on fixing this problem.”
“How?”
“First of all, South Korea overstepped itself when it looked into a crime committed on North Korean territory. Second, there never was a crime. Third, Interpol has no jurisdiction in former North Korea. Fourth, there was no murder committed.”
I must have looked confused enough that she had mercy and explained.
“Haoran had been tried in absentia for High Crimes and Treason against the Imperial Throne and found guilty. A death sentence had been declared and a Chinese Citizen carried it out after former North Korea refused to extradite him.”
As she talked, I felt the weight coming off my shoulders.
“One more thing, Rick.”
“What’s that?”
“Never leave evidence behind on a black op.”
“I have figured that one out by myself.”
“In the meantime, the US President wants to talk to you. He has been trying to reach you for the last twenty-four hours.”
“Any idea what it is about.”
“He hasn’t said, his people have just left messages. I would think he wants to make certain you don’t reveal the SEALs’ involvement.”
“Also, Queen Elizabeth’s people have called. They told me they were concerned that since the 22 SAS unit was in China at the time, they wouldn’t be dragged into it.”
“I’ve created a mess, haven’t I?”
“Yes, but in doing so you eliminated a threat to China and my granddaughter. That outweighs everything else. Now I suggest you make those phone calls, and we will then discuss what is next.”
My first call was to Queen Elizabeth. She must have been anxious for me to call because I was put through in short order.
“Duke Richard, thank you for getting back to me quickly. I’m concerned that it might be implied that 22 SAS was involved with your trip into North Korea.”
“I understand, I will make certain they aren’t involved. I’m going to give an interview to a newspaper and describe how I did it by myself.”
“We would be grateful if you did that. There is nothing worse for our special forces than getting publicity when it isn’t planned for. In this case, it would make them look like hired assassins.”
“I know. That has been bothering me, those rogue MI6 agents wanted me to be an assassin for them and I told them I wasn’t an assassin. Now it appears that I am, not that I regret killing Haoran.”
“I have been told that you wanted to play James Bond in a movie. Now you will be viewed as a real-life James Bond.”
“Do I get a number?”
There was silence on the other end for a moment.
“Sometimes I forget how young you are. I would recommend asking the Empress that question as you performed the deed for her.”
I thought about that conversation for all about two seconds.
“Maybe I don’t need a number after all.”
“Don’t worry; the press will give you a number or a title. You have gone from All-American Boy to International Agent.”
“Do you have any suggestions about which newspaper I should give the story to?”
“I think an American one would be best.”
“You are right, it would help keep this matter away from the Crown.”
“Thank you for being so understanding. We helped a little, but it was mostly a US-China event.”
“I think I will work with the LA Times; I know them best and they have always been fair with me.”
After that, we hung up and I made the second call of the day. This time to the White House. Again, my call was expected as I was put through right away.
“Rick, thank you for calling so soon. I need to talk to you about you’re being charged with murder and the fallout.”
“Mr. President, I’m going to give the story to a US newspaper, probably the LA Times. I assure you that the SEALs will not be brought into it.”
“That is what I wanted to talk to you about. After serious thought and consideration, we would like you to describe your first trip with the SEALs.”
“Why?”
“They want the publicity as a group that will go anywhere for our nation and perform under the most trying circumstances. At the same time, the lack of opportunity will demonstrate they aren’t supermen. At my level, I want to show that we are a friend of the new China. I want to open up trade and this will be the beginning of a partnership.”
“I can do that Mr. President, but first I would have to make certain that Empress Ping will go along with that. It would be embarrassing if she denied us.”
“I agree, I’m listing you with the State Department under seal as Ambassador Plenipotentiary to China.”
“What does that entail?”
‘You have the full authority to negotiate treaties between China and the United States. You will report only to me, and you will be given no public recognition at this time, maybe later if it all works out. You have a better relationship with the Imperial Dynasty than we could develop in years. Please help the United States.”
“I will talk to the Empress about all of this.”
“That’s all I ask, please let me know as soon as you can what her decisions are.”
“I will Mr. President.”
“Thank you.”
I had to sit and think a while after that phone call. I decided the only way to handle it was to be open with the Empress.
I went back to the office of her appointment secretary and asked for a meeting as soon as reasonably possible, and no it wasn’t an emergency.
From there I returned to my suite to sip on a cup of coffee and to think about everything I was involved in. I was being pulled around like a puppet on a string. The string is being jerked by a three-year-old.
My many business interests and involvements with so many countries; the US, UK, China, Spain, and North and South Vietnam were going to cause problems eventually. I would drop a ball somewhere.
Of my business interests, there were what I considered to be my foundations and then the new ones involving computers and space exploration.
There was no way on earth I could handle all of these and keep my mind, much less have a life.
The appointment secretary called me and told me I was invited to dinner with the Empress and May-ling.
Since it was a private dinner, I arrived informally dressed. The two ladies made me feel overdressed. They wore sweatpants and pullover shirts. I asked why the formal dress code and I was informed it was the girl's night off.
What do you say to that, besides, “Okay?”
Dinner itself was a casual conversation. I learned that Ann was out at her deceased husband's estate arranging matters. She wanted to keep it but had to make certain her orders were in place.
I asked May-ling what her plans were now that she was not under immediate death threats. She told me she is planning to return to Hong Kong and finish her degree in Economics with a minor in Foreign Affairs. It would take her another year to finish up.
They wanted to know my plans and I confessed that I was being pulled pillar to post and didn’t know which way to turn.
The Empress suggested that I turn over all of my business to the operating heads and tell all the countries that they had to solve their own problems.
Easy for her to say since I had just solved her most immediate one. I glared a little at her and she had the grace to blush. Only a little but it was a blush.
I went on to explain the British and American requests. She had no problems with any of them. She liked the idea of opening trade relations with the United States.
She did have one concern that US companies would want to take advantage of China’s cheap labor. We talked about that for a while but came to no resolution. I told her I would give it some more thought.
She told me that she would have a working group look at the problem.
After that, I retired for the evening for a good night's sleep.
Chapter 3
Before falling to sleep I thought about May-ling; I like her a lot and would like to get to know her better, but she always pushes me away. That is unless I save her, then I’m her hero.
Tonight, she was distant, all wrapped up in her plans to go back to school. The only conclusion I could reach is that she needed to mature and figure out what she wanted in life. At this point, it was not me.
As I drifted off, I wondered what I wanted in life.
The next morning, I called the LA Times in the US. I asked for an editor. After what seemed a hundred questions and reasons why I couldn’t speak to anyone of that high of a level, I hung up.
I called Dad and asked for his help. He did understand why I couldn’t present my side of the story with one of his papers. He took my number and told me not to go away.
Within fifteen minutes my phone rang. It was a senior editor from the Times. He apologized for me not being able to get through. I told him no big deal, I realized his editors were important people and had to be protected from such time-wasting people as the Duke of Hong Kong. Yeah, I was upset.
He took it in stride, basically ignoring my comment, and asked me what I wanted to talk about. I told him I was willing to be interviewed on the entire Haoran story.
He wanted to know when I could come to his office to be interviewed. I told him that I couldn’t I was in Beijing and staying there until things settled down.
They didn’t have a reporter stationed in Beijing at this time, so we were at an impasse. There wasn’t even direct regular air service. I told him that if he wanted the interview to fly to Hong Kong and that a visa to enter China would be available.
He hemmed and hawed about budgets.
“Fine, I will call the New York Times or the Washington Post.”
“It will take two days to get someone there. Would you please decide at your end? We will let you know what flight our reporter will be arriving on.”
I had tried the carrot, the stick seemed to work better.
I spent the next several days wandering about the Forbidden City practicing my Mandarin. It was getting better but there were still many laughs by the staff at my sometimes mangling of the language.
Once I asked a cook if I could have one of the sweet buns sitting on a plate. She slapped me. I wonder what I really said. No one would explain. They were all laughing too hard.
When the reporter arrived, he didn’t meet the image I had expected. I was thinking Mike Hammer and got Dagwood Bumstead. Since he was worn out from the trip, I allowed him a day to recover.
Once he had his wits about him, he started asking questions about everything he saw. No American reporter had ever been in the Forbidden City, so this was a chance of a lifetime.
I finally asked the Chief of Staff if he could assign someone to answer the reporter's questions about the Palace and China in general while I spoke with him, specifically on my story.
He agreed that would be best. He also told me that an oubliette was available if needed. I had sudden visions of Mr. Dithers coming to hunt for Dagwood and told him I didn’t think it would be necessary.
When we finally got settled in my office in my suite, I related the story as I knew it. I started with the murders of the Crown Prince and his son, and the agony the Empress had gone through in concluding that one of her sons had killed his brother and nephew to gain the throne.
While she was coming to terms with that, there were the attempts on May-ling’s life. Then there were our multiple flights to safety.
Finally, the Empress had enough and had Haoran tried in absentia and condemned to death. Thus his flight to North Korea.
He was bouncing around as he took notes about the SEAL team's involvement. He had me go into great detail about the HALO jump into North Korea and how we had used the C-47 with corpses as a decoy.
The disappointment about finding a large North Korean unit camped right in our drop zone. Then there was how we scouted the place out and then hiked back to China.
He made a big deal about that hike and going on short rations. All I remembered was running out of coffee.
I then related my getting a call that another attempt had been made on May-ling and that I was given fast transportation from England to China. He tried to find out what I meant by fast transportation, but I didn’t address that question. I didn’t think the SR-71 was public knowledge yet.
I told him when I arrived in China that the SAS unit 22 was there going through the Chinese parachute school to earn their Dragon Wings but that was only a coincidence, that they had nothing to do with my mission.
I had to show him my Dragon Wings. He was suitably impressed that they had real rubies in the dragon's eyes. I explained they were a special set as being the first ones issued.
At this point, he had to start another stenographer's pad for his notes. We took a coffee break. Even there he asked questions. These were about my state of mind as events occurred, not the events themselves.
I surprised myself as I related them. I didn’t realize how cool and calm I came across to onlookers while I was a bowl of jello inside.
When I expressed that to him, he replied that he had come across this many times when interviewing people who had been in high-stress situations.
When we got back to the interview, he took me through my lying-in wait for Haoran several times. He wanted to know where I had learned these skills. This led to a sidebar about archery and hunting.
I only said that my instructor was Rod Bell at the Warner Brothers studio. I told him nothing about who Rod was working for now. I gave full credit about hunting to the ghillies and the to SEAL team for survival.
Besides the SR 71, I left out many high-altitude pictures taken in preparation for the first mission and of course nothing about Kim, the Bugatti, or four tons of gold. A guy gotta have some secrets.
When I concluded with crossing back into China, I thought we were done. Instead, he wanted the names of people who could corroborate my story.
I told him that would be President John F. Kennedy, Queen Elizabeth, and Empress Ping to start with. It was fun to watch his reaction. I then broke down and told him his question had been anticipated and for the SEALs, he was to call Little River and ask for the Public Information Officer. For England, Mr. Norman would be his contact. In China, the Empress's Chief of Staff would answer his questions.
I called the Chief of Staff’s office and made an appointment for him. Later I learned that while he was interviewing the Chief of Staff, the Empress came into the room and told him that all my actions were legal.
My actions were with the full support of the Imperial Throne and that China greatly appreciated me removing the threat to the legitimate line of succession. Furthermore, these actions were only authorized after North Korea refused the extradition of Haoran. This in turn also resulted in the loss of Chinese support for North Korea.
When Dagwood, the reporter, I had a mental block against his real name, published his story. The SEALs came across as America’s answer to superman. 22 SAS were innocent bystanders, and I was a complex mysterious person.
According to him, I was a mixture of Opie Taylor, Sean Connery as 007, Thomas Edison, and Armand Hammer. Figure that one out.
The murder charges dropped, the SAS secrecy kept, the SEALs public image improved. A sweeping success. Of course, the tabloids couldn’t stand for that and did many exposes of the real Richard Jackson.
Mum and Dad took great delight in telling me of my exploits according to the scandal sheets. I don’t see how they can make this stuff up. My real life was very boring when compared to their version.
After the reporter left, I sat alone with my thoughts. One thing I realized was that I had to simplify my life if I was going to have one.
The first thing I did was to let the Board of Directors of Jackson Enterprises know that I was going on hiatus from the company. I loved that movie term. They were only to contact me in emergencies.
Mum and Dad, my parents, as opposed to Mum and Dad, company directors, would know of my whereabouts. I let Boris know that my parents would be taking care of the gold in the hidden basement.
I instructed Mum and Dad that it was to be made available to General Booth and the space program at need. That took care of business. Next was to let the various countries I dealt with know that I wouldn’t be available.
Chapter 4
How do you tell a country that you are taking time off so don’t call me for six months? I made a few phone calls and sent telegrams to others.
I called Mr. Norman in England. I told him that I was burned out and was taking time for myself. He asked where I was going.
“Someplace where I’m not famous and no one knows me.”
“Oh, the jungles of Africa or South America?”
“Make that where few people know me, and those that do know me don’t care.”
“If I, were you, I would give some serious thought to Australia, you haven’t done anything spectacular there, yet.”
“Why did you have to add the yet?”
“I know you, Rick, trouble follows you.”
“I can’t argue with that. Anyway, I will be keeping my parents informed of my whereabouts. Other than that, I will not be calling in.”
“Seriously, I think you have earned it, go and enjoy yourself.”
I had dinner with the Empress, May-ling had left for school in Hong Kong. We had a long leisurely meal. In the end, I informed her of my intentions. She was supportive.
She also told me that it was good that May-ling and I were having time apart. This puzzled me, I didn’t know there was anything between us.
I had learned to be direct when in doubt rather than to let it eat at me. I asked her what she meant.
“Rick, anyone that sees you two together can tell there is a mutual attraction. You are both on the cusp of adulthood, you more than her. You need time apart to grow.”
“You think we should be together one day?”
“I would like that, but only time will tell if you are right for each other.”
I couldn’t disagree with that.
I sent a telegram to the White House baldly stating that I was going on vacation and would be unavailable for the next six months. If they needed to contact me, do so through my parents.
I didn’t call or send anything to either of the Vietnams, as far as I was concerned, they were now on their own.
I owed no one a call in Hong Kong but I called the governor anyway. He told me to enjoy myself and come back refreshed and with a lot of money.
I wondered what that was about but didn’t ask.
Now the only thing left to do was to decide where to go. I gave some serious thought about Australia. Mr. Norman had recommended it, but I had been wanting to buy a large ranch or station as they called it for some time.
I had no contacts there other than those I made when visiting the container operations. I didn’t want to get mixed up with the government. It always seemed to cause me more problems than it solved.
The next day I asked the 707 crew to prepare for a trip to Australia. The heathens that they were, were all for a trip to Bondi beach.
I included Harold, my Valet, in my planning so he knew it would be for an extended period. He asked if that was the case could he take a long vacation of his own. I saw no reason he couldn’t.
He informed me that he would accompany me to Australia and set me up with the proper local wardrobe and then return to England.
I asked him if a girl was waiting for him. He grinned and told me there were several. I let it go, some things you don’t need to know.
The next day, with little fanfare we left for Sydney.
Upon landing the first order of business was finding a hotel. This was the first time in a long time that I came into a city with nothing arranged in advance. That was a mistake.
First of all, several conventions were going on so there were no rooms available. Second, after viewing several of them, I wouldn’t want to stay in any of them.
That is the nice thing about having a plane with its bed. The crew spent the night in town at some pub place, The Lord Nelson Pub, but I didn’t want any part of their party. I couldn’t keep up with them.
I broke down and called the Governor General’s office. I explained my difficulty. They agreed that housing was difficult at this time and would be for some time in the immediate future.
I asked what real estate firm they used for their higher postings. They gave me a name, Shorts and Sons. and an address.
I took a cab to their office. I felt like I was slumming it, a cab! No limo! I needed to get my head straight.
When I entered Shorts and Sons I was greeted politely. I informed them I was going to be spending time in Australia, mostly in station territory but wanted a nice home in Sydney when I came to town.
That was said to the receptionist. She never blinked. Instead, she made a phone call and a pretty well-dressed young lady in her mid-twenties came up front. She introduced herself as Janice Short. I noticed she was wearing an engagement ring. Besides, she was too old for me.
I knew that with my age and casual clothing she had to be wondering if this was a joke. I handed her my card. You could see her eyes widen.
“It is an honor, Your Grace.”
I could see the receptionist's face when she heard that.
I commented it should be Short and Sons and Daughters. She laughed and said her grandfather wanted to do that, but she convinced him not to. It was a matter of branding. Pretty and into marketing, my kind of girl.
We went to her office where she offered me a seat on a comfortable sofa, and she sat in a wing-backed chair. We were no sooner seated than the receptionist was in asking if we would like tea or coffee. We both asked for coffee, black for me, cream and sugar for Janice.
When the receptionist turned and left, Janice gave me a saucy grin.
“Doris has been with us forever and she is very nosey. She is dying to know who you are.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“She will know soon enough, but I intend to drag it out as long as I can.”
“You’re mean.”
“Please don’t tell my fiancé that. He will find out soon enough.”
I let that one goe and explained in detail what I was looking for. She told me that they had several that fit the description, but they were pricey.
“What is the top price on them?”
“Five hundred thousand pounds.”
“Then there are no price problems. I can always sell it later.”
I didn’t tell her that I had never sold a property once I owned it.
She had a picture book with all the listings. She showed me those that she thought would meet my needs. When she showed me the third one, I stopped her and told her I would buy that one.
“But you haven’t even seen it or been in it.”
“Still, I love that architecture and that is the house I want.”
What were the odds, a third Jackson House? That guy got around.
We did drive out to Wolseley Road, in Point Piper, to take a look. There was no doubt this house had been built by Jason Talmadge. He must have bought one set of floor plans and used them over and over. I made a mental note to have all the major cities in the world checked out to see if there were other properties built by him.
The layout was identical inside. This house was in much better condition than the ones in the US and Hong Kong. It had been lived in and well maintained.
I asked if the owners were still in residence but was told no, that a recent death had left it vacant. The heirs felt like it was more house than they would ever need, and the upkeep would be too much.
I told Miss Short part of the story. This house was identical to our family home in the US. I had to have it.
On the way back she asked what bank I would be using.
“I have to ask my London bank who they correspond with so I can open an account.”
“I meant who you will be financing it with?”
“This will be a cash sale.”
“I have read a bit about you and know you have money, but that is still a lot.”
“That is not a concern, please offer the full asking price, forgo any inspections and close on this property as soon as possible.”
“You do move fast don’t you.”
“I need a place to stay when in Sydney and it looks like I will be spending a lot of time here in the future so I might as well have someplace nice.”
“The furnishings are not included.”
“Could we make an offer?”
“We can always make an offer.”
“How much do you think I should offer?”
“I didn’t see anything of great value there, I would ask them to come up with a price.”
“Please do that.”
What I didn’t mention is that I couldn’t wait to see if there was a subbasement and a wine cellar.
Chapter 5
It was a cash sale with a single heir who had never seen the place and didn’t want to. She had lived in London all her life and saw no reason to journey so far from the center of civilization.
The title search did reveal that like the other properties at one point it had been bank-owned. In other words, there was no family connection to Talmadge.
It took five days for the sale to go through. I slept on the airplane each night as it was as good as any hotel in Sydney.
I didn’t waste my time during those five days. I had my Chief Pilot arrange for the DC3 to be moved from South Vietnam to Sydney. I also went shopping. The type I like. Buying another two-engine aircraft good for the Australian outback.
A broker had just listed a 1960 Cessna 310D for 45,000 pounds. I grabbed it. I know I overpaid but it was worth not having to get qualified in it.
It was hangared right here in Sydney, so it was easy to check out and take possession. It flew like a dream. The airframe and engines weren’t due for checkups and rebuilds for some time yet, that is if I didn’t go crazy flying everywhere.
It is surprising how quickly hours mount up on maintenance items. At the same time, qualification hours are as slow as molasses.
Harold had done some shopping of his own. That is, he had identified shops that I needed to buy clothes and accouterments at.
Contrary to what he told the flight crew, he didn’t have to drag me screaming and kicking down the road. I only whined a bit.
When it was done, I had multiple outfits for everything from roughing it in the outback to attending a formal ball in Australia. The clothes for the outback made sense but the formal ones weren’t that different from those I already owned.
I think Harold just likes to buy clothes with other people's money. On the other hand, I was always dressed perfectly for the occasion, so I cut him some slack. I also think he is a spy for Mum.
One good thing was the press hadn’t taken notice of me being in Australia. The International newspapers all carried the LA Times story. According to their editorial pages, I was either a menace to mankind or the long-heralded savior.
I voted for Denise the Menace’s older brother.
At long last, we closed on Jackson House Australia. A catchy name that. I couldn’t wait to get inside and check it out.
We closed in the Shorts office. I had the cab that delivered me to the office wait so I could go directly to the property.
You would never have guessed the first thing I did was go to the master bedroom and check for the secret door. It was there. I had thought to bring a flashlight, but the electricity was on.
It was like going downstairs on Christmas morning when I was four or five.
What I found wasn’t much of a Christmas present. In the center of the subbasement, which was devoid of all furniture other than a large safe were several pallets.
The pallets were loaded with bricks of heroin. The reason I knew that is because they were labeled. Now I know how Talmadge had so much money. Whether it was heroin I had no way of knowing. I wasn’t about to touch it in any way.
This was going to be a headache! If I reported it to the authorities, the secrets of all the Jackson Houses would be blown. This stuff had been here for over thirty years, so it probably wasn’t any good anyway.
I had to think of a way of getting rid of this stuff without getting caught. There must be a metric ton of the stuff.
Jason Talmadge was consistent in one thing. He used the same combination on all of his safes. It had stacks of Australian currency, Chinese round gold coins with a square hole in the middle. The gold coins were on a string, in this instance metal wire, of one hundred coins called a diao.
I counted the Australian currency; it was half a million pounds. I had no idea what the Chinese gold coins were worth but since they were the same size as a US double eagle, I figured there was another half-million there.
There was also a stack of Swiss bearer bonds. A quick count was five million US, so I had made a profit on the purchase.
On the top shelf inside the safe were several account ledgers. They had names and dates of transactions. Talmage was a detailed keeper of records. You could follow his thirty-some-year-old trail of drug dealing.
I sat down cross-legged on the floor and leafed through the ledger. The entries were enlightening. He had numerous dealings in China before World War II so they probably would lead nowhere.
There were several firms in Hong Kong whose names rang a bell. Also, Australian names, including one which was so prominent that I recognized it.
If it was the same person, they would have been thirty years old then, now they would be around sixty. Australian politics might be in for a big shakeup.
I wanted no part of this. I would let the police put it together.
Several American names jumped out. One was the father of a very famous American. This information was pure poison and the sooner it was out of my hands the better.
I now wish I had worn gloves. I don’t know if they could get fingerprints. I would have to let the police know that I had leafed through the book but didn’t read it in any depth.
I put the book down and looked around the basement one more time. I tested the elevator system and it worked like the others. You could go up from the subbasement but not down to it. It was a neat trick.
Next, I looked for the escape tunnel. I found the door and had to use my flashlight. The tunnel ran for about two hundred yards and came out in the garage of a house across the way.
I listened at the outer tunnel door and couldn’t hear anything, so I took a chance and opened it after lifting the heavy bar. As in the other two houses, the door opened into a janitor's closet in the garage.
I listened again, once more there was no sound. I tried the interior door from the garage to the house. It wasn’t locked and a quick peek showed the place to be empty.
I looked out of a front window to orient myself. I would have to drive by to get the address so I could check into the status of the house. I would have to purchase it if it was available.
That brought to mind that I had been using taxis. I needed a car of my own.
I went back through the escape tunnel making certain I hadn’t left any footprints leading to the tunnel. Once back in the tunnel, I barred the door behind me and returned to the subbasement.
I then walked all around the perimeter of the subbasement to make certain I hadn’t missed anything. I hadn’t. There was no evidence of Mr. Talmadge's strange taste in sex.
Another place I hadn’t looked in my haste to buy the place was the outbuildings. In the old garage behind the house were five vehicles covered with canvas.
You could tell that someone had looked at the first three and carelessly put the covers back on. I could see why they were pedestrian-looking and well-worn.
I removed the fourth cover and found the same. The fifth was a treasure. It was a 1955 MG MGA. A white sports car. I didn’t know the MG line, but I knew this was a good car.
It would need a complete check over, oil replaced, new tires, gas tank emptied, carburetor cleaned, and a lot of other work but it was a beautiful machine. I now had my Sydney car.
The garage had a loft and I checked it out, even going so far as to move several ancient bales of hay, there was nothing of note stored there. I couldn’t figure out why there was even hay there in the first place.
I then decided I would check out the view from the tower. I’m glad I did, it looked out over one of the best neighborhoods in Sydney. This included several houses with swimming pools.
I bet some pretty girls used those pools. Not that I was a voyeur. I just enjoyed looking at pretty girls, especially if they were topless. What teenage boy wouldn’t?
Chapter 6
The question remained, what was I going to do with the ancient heroin? Since I now owned the place, the police would expect me to report it immediately.
The longer I waited the worse my situation would be. I thought about burning it in the huge coal-fired furnace, but I didn’t know what odors or ash would come out of the flue.
Remembering what we did with Talmadge’s skeleton I briefly considered airdropping it in the ocean. It would only take the DC3 and two or three other people.
I could visualize packing the stuff in weighted wooden crates. Smuggling it aboard the aircraft. Flying it out to sea and dropping it, where the crates would burst when hitting the water.
Passing fishing boats would report the strange white powder floating in the water causing a huge fish kill. When the heroin was identified, all aircraft that had been flown in the area would be checked.
Mine would be the only one that could have done the job. When they searched the plane, they would find traces from when one box had broken open when I loaded it.
My next thought was of me being hauled off in handcuffs with the press taking pictures.
Scratch that idea.
While I mulled over what could be done, I went back to the secret panel behind the mirror upstairs. This led down to the wine cellar which I hadn’t visited.
There were vintage cases of wine. Case after case. The cases were built so the wine was racked properly. I assumed they were of a good vintage, or why store them? Other than the wine and other spirits it was empty. At least no artwork to dispose of.
I ended up doing what I always did when in doubt. I called my parents. I explained the situation to them as circumspectly as I could.
Dad asked a key question, “As far as you know the realtor company has been the only one in the house in years.”
“That’s right; the bank has had them trying to flog it for ten or more years so the Shorts and anyone they gave a tour to would have been inside.”
“Try to find out how many people have been through it, especially the first known basement. If not very many you could discover the stuff, there.”
“I’ll check with Janice Short and let you know.”
After getting caught up on the family news, and hearing that all were fine, I called Janice.
“Hey, Janice, I have a question for you.”
“What’s that, Rick?”
“Since your family has been showing my place, have many people been down to the basement?”
“Only me and Dad and we never went all through it. It is full of junk and most potential clients didn’t get past the first floor before saying no.”
“That’s all I need to know. You’ll hear why later.”
I went down to the first basement which I had only looked at from the top of the stairs. It was full of junk. Nothing looked worth salvaging.
It looked like someone had intended to clean the place out at one time because there were several hand trucks and low trollies in a corner.
Thank goodness the freight elevator worked. I now had a plan.
I drove the car I had rented, down to a work center where guys looking for day jobs were hanging out. I hired three of them and took them back to the house.
I picked them carefully. They were all loners, not a group. I could see hiring a group of three and being robbed. On the way back I stopped and bought some push brooms.
I had them clean out the junk with hand trucks and trollies for the rest of the day. They hauled the stuff up the elevator and dumped it behind the house.
I spent the afternoon sweeping.
After paying each of them enough that they would remember me but not enough to be stupid, I returned them to the work center. I’m sure they enjoyed their drinks or drugs that night.
I had learned enough about them that I wouldn’t trust any of them as far as I could throw them.
I then went back to the house and did the real work. Using a pallet jack stored in the subbasement, I used the trick elevator to move the two large pallets upstairs.
I opened the safe and put the two ledgers on top of one of the pallets. You never would know what would come up in a cold case.
I made certain the area was clean and had no evidence of pallet jack tracks. The area now looked like it was in the middle of a cleanout when I came across the pallets.
After examining the contents, I went to a corner phone and called the police as any good citizen should.
One patrol car showed up as I waited at the front door of the house.
“Sir, we have a report that you have found drugs in this house which you purchased recently.”
“Yes, let me show you.”
I don’t know what they expected to see, maybe a bag of marijuana. Their eyes were bugging out as they saw what was there.
One of the policemen went upstairs to call it in on the car radio. The other stayed with me and started taking notes.
Who was I? When did I buy this place, who did I buy it from?
I had decided to play it straight as all the truths would come out anyway.
I handed him my British Diplomatic passport. It wouldn’t give me immunity for something like this, but it did show that I had to be handled carefully.
This policeman was the calmest one I had ever met. He just wrote down all my answers. He never reacted to the Duke of Hong Kong bit.
We had been at it for about half an hour when half the Sydney police force descended upon us.
I was glad to see so many people wandering about as they ruined the crime scene, as far as my cleaning and moving stuff went.
I was taken aside by two detectives who asked all the same questions over again. At least they didn’t accuse me of being involved with the drugs. They could tell it was old stuff.
They got all the details of my purchase of the place two days before and descriptions of the guys I hired to help clean it out.
While they said nothing, I’m certain they would question the Shorts and try to find the guys who had helped clean the place.
There was a commotion over by the drugs. I figured they had found the ledgers. They had.
Since I hadn’t worn gloves when handling the ledgers, I told the two detectives I thought the noise was about the ledgers which I had opened.
I thought they would ask why I had opened them, but they didn’t. I told them the books seemed to contain the details on the drug deals.
What I read told when, where, and from whom the drugs were bought. It even listed the cost and methods of transportation. Bribes paid and to whom. Mr. Talmadge was a very conscientious businessman.
The next morning, they picked me up at the Lord Nelson hotel and drove me to the work center where I identified the three men I had hired. They didn’t see me as I stayed low in the backseat of the police car. I had moved to Lord Nelson after getting tired of planes taking off and landing all hours of the day and night.
I then was taken down to the Police Headquarters building. I was introduced to the Sydney Police Commissioner.
I was treated like an honored guest.
“Your Grace, we would like to thank you for bringing this to our attention. Though after the reports I have received about you from the Crown, I would expect no less.”
“Thank you.”
My internal thoughts were, play this close and admit nothing.
“We have a favor to ask.”
“What is that.”
“Say nothing to anyone about any of this. We have managed to keep it away from the papers and are investigating.”
“As long as you get those drugs out of there.”
“They are already gone. They will be dumped in a vat of molten steel at a forge.”
Good to know.
“I have no reason to speak to anyone of this.”
“Those ledgers have given us leads on companies and organizations that are still active.”
“What were the Shorts told?”
“Only that you found a set of ledgers in the basement and turned them over to us. That is all the official record will show. Unless we could find and arrest Jason Talmadge who would be in his nineties by now the case would never come to court.”
I wished him luck with that one.
We shook hands as I departed. I thought I handled that quite well.
I called my parents that evening and relayed events. I used a random call box. I had to trust that Jackson House California wasn’t bugged.
Mum and Dad were pretty religious about having the phone lines checked out. I would have to start the same regime at all of my places.
Chapter 7
I hadn’t been up to the attic yet, so I decided to take a look at it. The Police had been all through the house and hadn’t found any more drugs but hadn’t commented on what they did find.
After going up to the attic I could see why. There was nothing but a bunch of old furniture up there. It was in good shape, not broken or anything but none of it was in a style that I liked.
It seemed so formal. I looked for maker’s marks and found a table and set of chairs that had a fancy crest on the bottom and the name Hepplewhite.
There were a couple of pieces by Sheraton and Adams. The best-looking furniture was a complete bedroom set by Chippendale.
I thought I recognized that name, so I had better have someone check the stuff out.
There was some artwork by people I didn’t recognize and others that I did. I recognized the names Gainsborough and Vermeer and Sargent. I thought I had heard of Klimt.
If the furniture was worth anything like the paintings, I had another small fortune on my hands.
It is a wonder the police hadn’t seized them as part of the drug bust.
I went to a corner call box and dialed the Governor-Generals office. I wanted to keep a low profile, but it didn’t seem to be working.
When connected I explained to the receptionist at Government House that I needed to find appraisal experts in furniture and paintings. She transferred me to an office.
The gentleman I was transferred to recognized all of the names. He suggested that I contact the University of Sydney.
He gave me the name and number of a professor in the art department that should be able to help me.
I was lucky that the professor I was calling was in and available. He was very interested when I described my find. He asked if he could come by tomorrow and bring several other people with him.
I told him that I thought this was a very good idea and that 10 o'clock would be fine. From there I continued my exploration of the house. One room that I had not visited was the library, I had glanced in and there were many books on the shelves.
If nothing else this room needed a good dusting. I doubt if anyone had been in here since Tallmadge.
I randomly opened a few books to their title pages. The third book I picked up was a first edition, the first printing of Oliver Twist, the author on the title page was Boz. It was signed by Charles Dickens.
I had volume two of three in hand. The other two were next to it on the shelf. That meant this library has some value. I will ask the professor and his team to take a quick look tomorrow.
They showed up on time. I had been expecting the Professor and maybe two graduate students. Instead, it looked like he had brought the whole department. They arrived on a bus. There must have been fifty of them.
I was waiting on the front porch for them, and the Professor headed straight for me.
“Are you Duke Richard?”
“Yes, I am.
“I hope you will forgive me, but this is a rare chance for the students to do some real field work.”
“I've no problem with that as long as they have proper supervision. There appears to be a lot of value in the attic. Also, I would like someone to take a look in the library as I think there are some first editions there.”
I had a sudden thought.
“How long do you think this might take?”
“I would think all of today, and maybe some of tomorrow, I will be able to tell you better after we take our first look.”
“Have you made arrangements to feed this lot?”
He got the deer in the headlights look.
“Err, no.”
“I will take care of that in part payment for your labors.”
“Part-payment?”
“I don’t expect your department to do this for free, so I had planned to make a direct donation to your department budget.”
“Good show! Let's get started.”
“Follow me.”
The Professor told the students to wait until he and his grad students reconnoitered the find.
Before we went upstairs, I asked the students in general if any of them knew of restaurants in the area that could cater lunch for fifty people.
Two raised their hands so I beckoned them forward. They both had the same restaurant in mind. The restaurant was close by so I asked them to see if the manager could join us.
The two took off down the street before I could say anything else. Pointing to another student I asked them to have the restaurant manager join us in the attic when he appeared.
He was to use the elevator in the entryway. To be certain I showed the young lady the elevator. The controls were self-evident.
The Professor and his aides rode with me to the attic. When we exited the elevator, Professor Johnson looked around and then looked around again.
“My word, from what I can see standing right here there are over a million pounds in true antique furniture.”
“That is what I thought from my art appreciation classes.”
“Oh, where did you go to school?”
“Oxford.”
“What did you graduate in?”
“I didn’t I was sent down.”
“What! Sending a Duke down you must have done something terrible.”
“I wasn’t a Duke at the time, and I did something terrible. I dyed the Chancellor a brilliant blue.”
“That would do it.”
The Professor got a devilish look.
“Would you be interested in an Australian Chancellor?”
“I think I had better pass.”
“Pity.”
We then took a stroll around the attic. I had seen less than half of it. Most of the furniture was under Holland covers so the Professor had the plain weave linen sheets removed so we could see what was underneath.
The surprises continued. None of the furniture was to my taste but then I didn’t grow up in the 1700s.
He finally stopped and told me.
“These are all museum-quality pieces. It will take weeks if not months to document the condition and worth of each piece.”
“Could we start a preliminary catalog of what is here?”
“That would be ideal. I’m going to break the students up into teams of five. We will write descriptions of everything and take photographs, and then recover them for protection.”
“Professor, would you take a look at the paintings?”
“Certainly, I was about to ask about them. I’m almost afraid to look after seeing all of this.”
He looked at them and had to take a seat. Even being as flustered as he was, he took great care sitting on the Chippendale chair.
“My word, these paintings are probably worth more than the furniture.”
“I thought they might be.”
“Again, we will photograph and catalog each one.”
“This sounds like a plan.”
I heard the elevator come to our floor and it was a gentleman I didn’t know. I confirmed it was the restaurant manager. After introductions, I asked him if he could feed us and all the students downstairs lunch.
He would be delighted to; it was now eleven o’clock. If we could send them down to his restaurant in two groups a half-hour apart it would work well. I had plenty of cash so paid for lunch for fifty-five out of pocket.
While all of this had been going on, I was having some grave reservations about what was going on. What was my legal position in all of this?
It wouldn’t be hard to make a case that all these items were purchased with drug money and subject to some sort of seizure.
While the group started work, I excused myself and made two telephone calls from the corner call box.
The first was for the phone company to have phones installed at Jackson House, at least one in the lobby, and more later.
The second was to the police commissioner.
He took my call immediately; he must have been wondering if I had found more drugs in the house.
I explained what was going on with books, paintings, and furniture that were included with my purchase. He assured me there were no laws on the books that would require the police to take them.
There also was the fact that they didn’t want the drug bust to become public knowledge as it would take them weeks or months to unravel the information in the ledgers.
“Though when it all comes out Your Grace, I can see where you could be criticized for keeping or selling what might be stolen merchandise. May I suggest?”
“Please do, I don’t need any more negative publicity.”
“I understand. I have a dossier on you that is extremely thick. Most of it is good but some very dicey things also. Could you see your way to donating it all? From what I can understand you have enough money as it is.”
“That is a wonderful idea, especially if it is done anonymously.”
Chapter 8
The only way it could be done semi-anonymously was through a shell company. Even then many people like the students would know that I was involved. That is why I say semi.
It was still worth a try to keep my name out of the papers. I ended up having a company created in Australia listing it as the owner of Jackson House.
The paintings were going to the Art Gallery of New South Wales. The books to the University of Sydney Library and the furniture to the same school but I had to donate enough funds for a building to house the furniture. It would be a public admissions museum and also a source of study for students.
The different groups I talked to all wanted to create committees to study the issues and come up with recommendations. I listened for a while and then told them they had two days then everything was going on the auction block. A little motivation works wonders.
The newspapers covered each, but the story ended with the company. They treated the company as a good corporate citizen in surrendering questionable goods, which may have been stolen.
Some cynics of the paper's staff wrote editorials the company was trying to avoid legal complications from the purchase. If they only knew.
I had wanted to be in Sydney for two or three days. It had turned into weeks. The time wasn’t completely wasted. I was able to send the contents of the safe to America in the 707 for Mum and Dad to dispose of.
I also found upon Government House recommendations a land agent who specialized in larger properties like those I was interested in. I had originally wanted a station of a million acres.
When I found that the only property that large was in the true outback which was effectively worthless at this point, I changed my mind.
I found that in Queensland it was possible to find properties up to a quarter-million acres. Now all I had to do was find four adjourning ones.
After many hours spent in the agent's office looking at maps of available properties, I found that it wasn’t going to be that neat.
The best I could do was buy five separate stations that were near each other and then try to convince the owners of the adjoining properties to sell so I could join them all together.
We spent hours discussing the best strategy. Buy the large properties upfront, then try to buy the properties that would connect them or offer for the connecting properties first and then the larger ones.
We decided, well I decided to go for the connecting properties first so I wouldn’t end up with four distinct stations to run. My life was complicated enough.
I requested dossiers made up for each of the properties. I wanted to know about the connectors as it would tell me how to approach them. The large ones would have their management. I wanted to know which ones were well run.
Six connector properties would have to be purchased. Three of them should be easy as the dossiers showed them going broke through poor management. Two of them would be for sale for the right price, which meant a high price.
I didn’t see any way the sixth one would be for sale at any price. It was run by a McLeod family and had been a going concern for over a hundred years. Currently, two daughters were managing it. They were doing very well.
More study of the maps provided what I thought could be a solution. I only needed a corner of their ranch which was only a thousand acres. It wasn’t even the best land on their station. On the opposite side of their station was a failing ranch of five thousand acres.
The failing ranch was good land but owned by absentee landlords. If I could buy that land maybe they would swap. It would be a very good deal for them.
My land agent contacted the absentee people in London, and they were more than willing to sell it. They only wanted twice what it was worth. The land agents fought well and got them down to only ten percent over the estimated value. That was close enough for me.
All the land in question was south of Mount Isa, about halfway to Bedourie. It was a few miles east of Dajarra. The land agent arranged a meeting with the McLeod Sisters for Wednesday week.
The day before, I flew us in my new Cessna which had just finished a complete airworthiness check at my expense. I had learned to be careful with anything to do with aircraft.
We flew to Mount Isa and picked up a rented Range Rover. Leaving Mount Isa, we saw the huge copper mine. It was one of the largest open-pit mines in the world, if not the largest.
The Range Rover was exceptionally clean, a young man by the name of Greg Norman was wiping it down. I complimented him on his job. He stared at me for a minute.
“You’re that amateur golfer that won the grand slam of golf!”
That is when I found out that young Greg was a huge golf fan and player. He recognized me from the magazines. I waited while he ran into the rental shed and brought out his magazine for me to autograph, wishing him luck in his golfing career.
So many young men wanted to be a professional and so few made it, I hoped he would do okay.
It took most of the afternoon, but it was still daylight when we reached Dajarra. The agent had reserved us rooms at the Dajarra Roadhouse. I was surprised when we got there. It was the only place to stay in town. It was a combination motel, service station, and general store. It was old but well cared for.
The next morning after a fine breakfast we met with the McLeod Sisters. They were very attractive. I had been told that men outnumbered women five to one in this area so they must have the guys knocking down their doors. They were too old for me, or I would have been right there with them.
After the introductions I let the land agent take the lead. He didn’t explain why we wanted those thousand acres, just the bare bones of the deal.
Their immediate reaction was positive but as they talked, they wanted to know why that particular acreage. It went back and forth for a while with neither party wanting to back down.
I finally broke the impasse by speaking up.
“I will tell you the complete story if you sign an NDA.”
The older sister looked blank but the younger one who had spent time in the city knew what it was.
She asked, “What are the conditions?”
In anticipation of this, I had one prepared. They both read it and didn’t see any problem with agreeing not to disclose what I was about to tell them. They signed it and the manager of the Roadhouse witnessed.
The manager loitered in the area as though he wanted to hear what was going on. I bluntly told him.
“This is none of your business. Would you please leave us?”
He left but didn’t seem embarrassed by his nosiness. After he was gone, I told the ladies of my plans for a large ranch and how their thousand acres played a key part in this.
This was a bit of a gamble on my part as they now knew that the land was worth more than the direct sale value would indicate.
They huddled together in a corner and discussed the deal. From the way the arms waved, it was an energetic discussion.
They came back and asked if I was open to a counterproposal. It was noticeable that they now realized I was the person behind this deal and the land agent a representative. For his part, he seemed willing and ready to let me deal with this. To him, it was now a spectator sport.
“What are you requesting.”
“The land trade itself is a good deal. We aren’t going to be greedy and ask for more money. What we would like is a verbal agreement of friendship.”
I must have looked lost.
“What we would like is an agreement that we will be good neighbors with each other. If there is a fire, we will help put it out, if the cattle get mixed, we round them up together and split them up fairly. Good neighbors.”
It wouldn’t have occurred to me to be anything else. I did realize when I had the whole station put together, I had to make sure my people in charge understood that.
A handshake with them sealed the deal. The legal paperwork would be taken care of in Mount Isa. The first most critical step was complete.
Chapter 9
While at the Roadhouse I had seen a sign for the spring fair in two weeks. It reminded me I was upside down from my normal seasons.
With the critical land deal in place now it was imperative to move quickly on two others. The McLeod deal connected two of the large stations.
I couldn’t assume anything done at the Roadhouse would remain quiet for long. This was a big event for a very small town.
My land agent had written proposals in place to present to the owners of the two stations. He had separate staff members present them to the listing agents that evening. Part of the offer was that it only would be good for twelve hours. Both of them were for the asking price so they were accepted by the next morning.
We had managed to stay ahead of the bush telegraph. I was halfway to my goal of a million-acre station. When done it would be around 1592 square miles or a box forty miles on each side. What I was putting together would look more like a long squiggle.
The next move was to purchase the two connectors that would only go for a high price. This had to be done quickly because as far as pricing went, they were in the driver's seat.
That same morning the land agent had two of his staff make full-price offers to both of the connectors that were doing okay. Both of the asking prices were well over the market, but if they heard about what was going on, they might double overnight.
Our buying agents were to let slip that a rich American was buying a station and wanted one that was making money so as not to be embarrassed by a failure. This was true to a point.
By dinner time the deals were done.
The next day we made listing price offers on the other two large stations. They were accepted at once. We had signed deals in hand, well not actually in our hands, but in our agent’s, staff's hands by dinner time.
That same afternoon offers were made on the last three connecting parcels. These were all failing stations. I felt slightly guilty as their asking prices all reflected this reality, so I insisted that we offer twenty-five percent over asking for each.
I just about had a row with my land agent over this. It offended his business sensibilities.
Everyone else we had dealt with had come out ahead. These people were trying to break even. When the entire deal became public, as it would, I didn’t want to be seen as taking advantage of the down and outers.
There would be some that would complain no matter what, but the majority would think I had been more than fair.
When I explained my logic to the land agent, he accepted it with a grumble. I pretended not to hear, “Yanks with dollars and no cents.”
So, in less than a week I had bought eleven properties for under fifteen million pounds and assembled a cattle station of a little over a million acres.
Every cowboy's dream.
We returned to Mount Isa by Range Rover, then flew back to Sydney for the weekend. I can’t say I was sorry to leave the Roadhouse. It served its purpose but wasn’t what I was used to.
Back in Sydney the furniture and paintings had been removed from Jackson House. The books in the library were being cataloged by students before being taken to the University Library.
Several cute girls were working on the project and from the way they eyed me, I think I could have got a date. The only problem was that they looked so young!
None of them looked like they had faced real life yet. So innocent looking. What did that say about me?
The master bedroom had been cleaned out by a hired cleaning service and a new bed and furnishings installed. They were all off the shelf and would be replaced later but they would do for now. At least I wouldn’t be staying in a pub/hotel.
Things could get a bit noisy and even rowdy at Lord Nelson. It was a tourist-type place and not for those who wanted a quiet stay.
I didn’t do much over the weekend. I looked at some stockman's hats and realized that my American cowboy hats would do fine.
I retrieved them from the 707 which was still parked at the airport. Harold refused to stay at any of the places I had been staying, so he spent the time on the aircraft in his cubbyhole in the hold.
Each to his own.
After he learned my schedule, he arranged for the entire wardrobe on the aircraft to be sent to Jackson House and put up properly. The plane would be deadheading back to London, and he would replace the wardrobe there.
He had a catalog of each item. Those that came from the States had already been ordered. I didn’t even argue with him. I now had a full wardrobe at Grand Mum’s house, the Plaza on the Strand in London, the Waldorf in New York, Jackson House California, Jackson House Hong Kong, and now Sydney.
I didn’t bring up Bellefontaine to him, or Spain. I had over a hundred thousand dollars in clothes scattered around the world.
I think he may have been in a bragging rights contest with his father. I had given up and went with the flow. I had several pairs of jeans, outdoor shirts, boots, and belts with large buckles. That along with socks and underwear were all I needed right now.
I don’t think showing up at my new stations dressed in a Coldstream guards mess dress would impress anyone.
I could carry a pistol and rifle on my ranch while in the outback, but it wouldn’t be wise to carry them into any town. This wasn’t Texas.
I had a large-scale map of Queensland and another of my area. I outlined my new station/ranch to the best of my ability. I laid out a new ranch house area. It would be a self-contained small town.
The buildings on each of the properties that I had purchased had to be evaluated to keep as is, repair, or tear them down.
There would be a need for housing for the many ranch hands and their families. I laughed at myself as my thinking kept switching back and forth from American ranches to Australian Stations.
There were also cowboys and stockmen. Then there were Jackaroos and Jillaroos. I’m not even sure what they did.
I spoke American and British English, and now I had to learn Australian. I was going to stick with my British accent. At one time my normal accent was American, now it was British, would it change into Australian?
Don’t even ask about my Spanish anymore. I didn’t even know what you would call my accent when I spoke in Mandarin. From the way many Chinese looked at me, I suspect it was pretty bad or at least different.
Accent aside, I spent time considering what I would want on my new property. I realized that flying into Sydney and then flying to Mount Isa to then drive wouldn’t cut it. I would have to have a long runway built on the station that would handle the big jet.
That wasn’t as crazy as it sounds. To run the station, I would need light aircraft and helicopters. I’m certain the Australian Royal Air Force would appreciate a runway for emergencies to be a good thing. I could even let good neighbors fly in, like the McLeods.
There would have to be full maintenance buildings stocked with the correct equipment and spare parts, similar to what we were doing in Spain.
There would be paint shops, woodworking shops, electronics. That made me think of a full radio station with AM, FM, and Short-wave capability.
Next was a health center for the hundreds of people who would live on the station.
I got so wrapped up in these items I almost forgot what the purpose of the station was, a cattle ranch.
I would have to have the economics of butchering on station and shipping frozen beef versus sending live cattle to market.
This was beginning to sound like work.
I went back to the basics of cattle ranching. You needed water, feed, and cattle. Everything else supported.
Each of the stations has a water supply but I thought a new survey of the entire area with test drillings would be in order.
We could grow the grain to feed our cattle. The soil was fertile, but we would have to do crop rotation to ensure we didn’t erode the fertility of the fields.
The fifteen million I had spent on the land was nothing compared to what I would have to invest to do this properly. That didn’t faze me as I was in this for the long haul.
I couldn’t wait to have the Duke down to show him what a real ranch looked like. That made me think of our movie-making days. From there I jumped to the thought that I need to have a documentary team filming the building of a million-acre ranch.
It wouldn’t do well in theaters but might make a TV special. If nothing else my kids and grandkids would enjoy it.
Kids and grandkids, where did that come from?
Chapter 10
I decided now was the time to start visiting the properties I had purchased. I had a rental ute that looked ragged but ran well as I drove to the first large station.
When I drove through the gate of the first station, I was unimpressed. The fences were down and didn’t look like they had been tended for years.
I drove up to the main house to check in with the station manager. A middle-aged man came out of the house as I drove up. He was what you would call wiry. I outweighed him by at least seventy-five pounds and had six or eight inches on him.
That didn’t stop him from charging right up to me.
“I get tired of you Jackaroos coming around for a job.”
That was when he realized how big I was compared to him.
“Well, maybe I do have some work for someone your size. You ever do any fence repair.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re hired. I’m the boss and you are labor. We pay cash at minimum wage. You will have to rebate ten percent to me every payday. Also, bunkhouse rent will be taken out of your pay.”
As he turned to walk away, he said, “Got it?”
“Yep, you’re fired.”
He turned as quick as a snake.
“What did you say, boy?”
“I said you’re fired, I’m the new owner of this station.”
“We’ll see about that, the only ground you will own here is a six-foot deep hole.”
Two other guys who had been lounging on the porch joined him. Whatever happened would be three on one. They were big guys but looked soft from too many beers.
They didn’t seem to want to play fair so I wouldn’t either. Australian law let me carry a weapon on my property especially this far out. I was glad I had the foresight to wear my Colt Peacemaker that John Wayne had given me.
I drew it and told them they had one hour to gather their things and get off the property. Their eyes got big when I cocked the hammer back and aimed between the leader's eyes. Actually, I was aiming slightly above his head, but he couldn’t tell that. All he could see was the round hole pointing at him.
They all backed up and raised their hands above their heads. I didn’t even have to tell them. They robbed me of my chance to say, “Reach for the sky.”
A group of guys was watching us from about twenty yards away. I signaled over the oldest one there, a guy that looked forty or fifty - with the weathered skin you couldn’t tell.
When he came over, I told him, “I’m the new owner of this spread and this thief and his two toadies are fired. Would you and some others follow them around as they gather their gear and make sure it is only their stuff they take?”
“Be delighted Boss, been waiting for this day for a long time.”
In less than an hour, they were gone. Each a ute, in worse shape than mine, if possible. At least mine didn’t emit smoke out the tailpipe.