Chapter 11

I was at the office a bit before nine. Mona was already in and greeted me with: "A star is born!"

"Not quite," I responded. "But I'm expecting an important call today."

I took a mug of coffee and was throwing away reminders when the phone rang and Mona buzzed me. "It's a Mr. Glen Kelly, CEO of the South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council," she said. I pushed the button.

"Mr. Kelly, Gordy Hollister."

"Hey! I saw you being interviewed by Sue on Saturday."

"Yes?"

"And I was wondering whether you would be willing to sit down with me and several of my colleagues to discuss the Noongar claim."

"I'd be happy to do so. But all of you have to realize that I have no power where this is concerned – I'm not even certain that I have any influence."

"That's where you're wrong, Gordy. Tens of thousands of folks here in the west have seen and heard you. Probably hundreds of thousands. And most likely well over a million nationally. What you said, sitting there with a wounded arm and with your little boy on your lap, had tremendous impact. And I'm told that you're the state's head of the CSIRO. You've a lot of influence."

"I'm overwhelmed. That wasn't my intention."

"Would you meet with some of us?"

"Of course. I can come to your turf, as I'm not involved in the case."

"Well, in some sense you are involved."

"Eh?"

"You own a house?"

"Yes."

"In Perth?"

"Yes. Wembley Downs."

"It may not be yours."

"Ah ... yes ... I see. But it would certainly be non-productive for the Noongar to pursue confiscatory claims."

"I agree. But you see how you and many other Western Australians are directly involved."

"Right. So, where's your office?"

"That's complicated. My office is south of the Swan. Our lawyers are downtown, near the Royal Perth. And, of course, the elders of the band are all over. Oh, yes. Our academic advisor is Samantha Hepburn at Deakin, in Melbourne. But we could meet downtown, easily."

"I'm not dressed for a meeting with posh lawyers, today."

He laughed. "Neither am I. Let me phone and see what's possible. This was supposed to be exploratory."

"It has been. When you call back, just leave a message if I've stepped out."

"Right. Thank you."

I called Chaz.

"The CEO of the South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council just called."

"The plot thickens."

"He wants to meet."

"Of course."

"Well, certainly I can meet with him – and whoever else – but I can't really do anything."

"Actually, you can. You could be the voice of reason where they usually have to talk to politicians or hysterical racists. And you've a pair of wild cards."

"What?"

"If two bands in Queensland think your wife and son are nungungi, think where your status must be. And you've got the PSM and been wounded. You've got what Doctorow calls 'wuffie'."