Blood at Yellow Water by Ian W Taylor

have you got
a minute?”
    “Sure Dad what’s up?”
    “It’s Lizzie’s brother Barry, he’s been
arrested and they’re holding him in the cells at the Jabiru police
station. She didn’t want to worry you but I thought you might be
able to help out. I’ll pass the phone over to her.”
    “Hi Jake I’m sorry to bother you but Bill
insisted I talk to you,” Lizzie came on the line, clearly
upset.
    “That’s O.K. What on earth happened?”
    “He’s been beaten up and arrested by the
police at the mine site for supposedly causing disruption. He said
it’s all trumped up, he didn’t do anything. Could you go down there
and try to sort it out?”
    “Yeah, sure, I’ll go down there but I’m not
sure I’ll be able to do anything.”
    After getting a few more details from
Lizzie, Jake hung up, cursing under his breath. He had plenty of
work to do that evening but felt obligated to go to Jabiru and see
if he could contact Barry. He jumped into the four wheel drive and
drove the short distance to the Jabiru township, pulling up outside
the police station. The station was a small square building in the
main street. Jake walked up to the door which had a sign saying the
office was closed. He could see a light at the back so he rapped on
the door. Nothing happened so he knocked again this time very
loudly. Eventually he heard footsteps and a young burly constable
opened the door.
    “Sorry mate we’re closed, you’ll have to
wait till tomorra morning.”
    “Look, my name is Jake Stafford and I want
to visit Barry Buckstone who is locked up here. He’s a friend of
mine and I must talk to him.”
    “Sorry mate, no visitors allowed till the
morning.”
    “Look all I want is five minutes with him.
I’m with the Australian Government and it’s important I see him
now.” Jake flashed his security badge from the conference.
    The constable, whose name was Angove,
appeared confused as he saw Jake’s pass.
    “Orright , but you’d better be quick. I’ll
have to check you out for weapons.” He patted Jake down and led him
through to the office to the holding cell. The cell was just a
small room with a two-foot square opening on the door which served
as a window. The constable yelled out through the window.
    “Barry, you’ve got a visitor.”
    When he received no answer, the constable
peered through the window.
    “Christ, he’s lying on the floor.” Quickly,
he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. They both rushed in
to see Barry spread out face down on the floor, clearly unconscious
and with a huge lump on the side of his skull. He also had some
cuts and bruises to his face and arms. Jake checked his breathing
and the pulse under his neck. He was breathing shallowly and his
heartbeat was steady but weak. He and the constable rolled him onto
his side and checked his airways.
    The constable said “I’d better call Sergeant
Barker and let him know what’s happened.”
    “No you won’t, you’ll call for the ambulance
right now. This could be serious by the look of that lump on the
side of his head,” Jake replied angrily.
    “But he looked fine when I last checked on
him; he had some cuts and bruises but he was talking O.K.”
    Jake lost patience. “Just ring the bloody
ambulance or do you want another case of a black death in
custody?”
    Constable Angove picked up the phone and
rang for an ambulance. He then rang his sergeant. They tried to
make Barry comfortable while they waited, loosening his clothes and
shoes. In less than ten minutes the ambulance arrived and two
officers quickly checked Barry over and gave him oxygen. Sergeant
Neville Barker came bustling in shortly after and was quizzing the
constable as to what had happened. Barker, one of only a handful of
aboriginals to make the rank of sergeant in the NT Police Force,
had been in charge of the Jabiru Police Station for three years and
knew Barry.
    “It looks like he’s passed out after taking
a heavy blow to his head. We can’t take any