Fraudulent Fortune, part 1

The following is the first of two exclusive excerpts from Fraudulent Fortune, a fictional work privately published in 2003. The author is a geologist and staff writer with The Northern Miner. The 233-page paperback version costs $10 plus shipping ($2.50 in Canada, $5.50 U.S., and $7.50 elsewhere) and is available by e-mailing Ms. Beales at bealesp@neptune.on.ca

Tom was traversing on Canexplo’s ground, close to the Reach Minerals’ property boundary. He had been taking soil and stream-sediment samples. He panned the samples if there was water at the site. If not, he just filled the sample bags, flagged the site, and added the sample to his knapsack. It was nearing the end of his day and his pack was heavy. His fingers felt swollen as he wrote his final notes for the day; his hands were as rough as fresh sandpaper and caked with dirt, which transferred to the paper’s pores. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and put his notebook in the back pocket of his pack. His shirt clung to his back, drenched in sweat and stained by dirt. He hadn’t had any luck as far as he could tell.

“No nuggets and no fine gold here,” he thought. “Nada. Zip. Fuck all. Not that I can see anyway. . . . I wish I was like one of those lucky prospectors, like Skookum Jim striking it rich. That would be cool. . . . Oh well, five days to go, and I’m outta here. . . . Listen to me rambling. Here I am, halfway around the world from home, daydreaming about the Klondike. . . . I need a break.”

Tom heard a chopper coming his way. He straightened up and watched it approaching. It wasn’t the Reach helicopter that he’d come to recognize. It looked more like a military bird. As he watched, about a kilometre from where he stood, he saw the chopper bank and an object went hurtling toward the ground. “It looks like a body!” Tom thought. He couldn’t believe his eyes, it couldn’t be. . . The chopper banked again and headed back in the direction from which it had come. He thought for a second he heard a short, faint, blood-curdling scream as the noise of the chopper diminished.

Tom frowned. He instinctively took a step in the direction of what he had seen. “What the–?” escaped from his lips. He stopped. It really was too far to be sure about what he had seen and heard. It was the end of the day and he was tired. He didn’t want to go and investigate. It probably wasn’t anything. Just his imagination playing tricks on him.

The tent was really crowded, compared with lunch time. There were about a dozen scruffy people with tanned faces — some already seated at the table and eating, and others still in line to pick up their meals. It was hot in the tent. The ventilation from the screened window openings hardly dispelled the heat produced from the oven. The screen door had been opened and shut numerous times as people arrived for dinner; somehow even a screen door seemed to stop the hot air from escaping through its mesh. It had to be kept shut to keep out the mosquitoes and black flies.

Rose stood by the food, carving up the meat and serving up the vegetables as each person arrived with his plate. They all paused from what they were doing and greeted the visitors with smiles and nods before resuming their activities. Robert couldn’t help thinking “It certainly is different visiting a camp, as opposed to living in one and being part of a team. Boy, do I envy Bill Duke.”

Bill sat down next to one of the crew and started a conversation revolving around what they had been doing during the day. His accent stood out like a sore thumb, so everyone knew that this was the geologist who was coming to start the diamond exploration program. The crew was going to be rotated so that everyone would get some diamond exploration experience. Bill was going to give a demonstration of the method he wanted used in till sampling and then pairs of individuals would be set out at different locations to begin the systematic work. Bill was going to study the maps some more tonight and lay out a sampling plan the next day. Robert thought “It sounds like he’ll be doing exactly what I would have done if I had been put in charge of the project. Still, he seems like a nice guy and might learn something from him.”

Daylight continued throughout the night at this time of year and at this latitude. “If people didn’t get tired, they could spend the whole night working,” Jason thought. He was tired after a day in the fresh air. It was a lot different from the fatigue he felt after a day in the office. He liked the change. In fact, up here he had to keep an eye on the time or else he would end up staying up really late and be exhausted the next day when it was time to work. Jason had kept his word and sent champagne into the camp after the kimberlite had been found; a few of the crew expressed their appreciation to him, but they were careful not to say too much. “You know I don’t really approve of people drinking in the bush, but I thought you guys deserved some sort of celebration,” he said. “I’m glad you liked it.” The camp was supposed to be dry, but he guessed it probably wasn’t.

Drinking was kept under control though; and everyone had been warned to keep their alcohol hidden while Jason was in camp. The crew was being careful. It would be a real drag to have a totally dry camp. The drillers weren’t supposed to drink because working with a large drill was a dangerous enough job, which at times required quick thinking and action.

Eric, Jason, Bill and Robert attended the 8 p.m. meeting and listened to everyone’s synopsis of the day. Sandra gave instructions to the crew for the next day. Then, Jason congratulated the crew on the great job they were doing. Apart from preparing their packs and arranging their maps for the next day, Sandra told them to take the night off.