‘I believe I was the only constable available.’

‘And I suppose you believe in Father Christmas?’

‘Pardon?’

‘So, you report to Robinson?’

There was a moment of silence before Salt answered, ‘If he asks, sir.’

‘Yeah,’ Cardilini replied, unconvinced, lighting his cigarette.

St Nicholas College

8.30 a.m. Wednesday, 28th October 1965

The cloud cover had burnt off and Cardilini was sweating profusely by the time they arrived at the school. Salt parked the car under the shade of a eucalyptus and waited for Cardilini’s instruction. Arriving students stared at the car and its occupants. Cardilini seemed reluctant to move. Finally he opened the door and pushed his weight through. He stood and stretched, looking down onto the hockey field. His moist shirt clung to his back. He pulled it away while he watched the students pass. Few made eye contact and those who did only furtively. He shook his head and sighed before walking towards the administration block. Salt locked the car and followed him.

Cardilini paused as they reached the quadrangle, ‘Do you notice anything, Salt?’ Salt took in the students, the quadrangle and the view to the river but didn’t reply.

‘The trees,’ Cardilini prompted, and continued walking.

Miss Reynolds greeted Cardilini, ‘He’s expecting you.’ And giving the slightest nod to Salt, she opened Principal Braun’s door.

The principal stood and came around his desk to greet Cardilini with an outstretched hand, ignoring Salt. Cardilini took the hand and shook it, guardedly.

‘I’m sorry about yesterday. We got off on the wrong foot. I was out of my depth. Captain Edmund’s death shook all of us more than I realised, me included. I think I just wanted it not to be true,’ the principal said as he retreated behind his desk. ‘The boys and their parents had to be informed, we’ve done that, and thankfully shooting is now banned from the north shore of the river.’

‘Why do you think such a shot hadn’t happen before?’ Cardilini asked.

‘Good question,’ the principal conceded. ‘It’s never been a problem. The wall along the riverside was always considered high enough to completely protect the school. Obviously not for those four upper rooms, however. Besides, the farmers were considered responsible. They always have been in the past.’

‘Right.’

‘Keeping the parents uninformed creates rumours. So, naturally, you have our full cooperation to curtail any speculation. Please take a seat.’ Braun indicated a chair.

Cardilini sat, his stomach knotting and perspiration running down his face. He mopped at it with his handkerchief.

‘I’m sorry I had to go over your head, but your manner . . . it’s difficult for an outsider to understand how fundamental, to all of us, the school’s reputation and exemplary name is.’

‘I’m beginning to understand,’ Cardilini answered.

‘I know. So where would you like to start?’

‘The armoury.’

Braun shot Salt a startled glance but Salt had his head down. ‘Why? That doesn’t seem reasonable.’

Cardilini pulled a crumpled and now damp sheet of paper from his inside pocket and read, ‘Forty-two .303 Lee Enfield number 4 Mk 1 rifles. Two Owen Machine Guns.’