Chapter 1
The wombat is one of the least known of Australia’s indigenous animals. Perhaps it is because they are not as cute as the koala. Maybe it is because they are not as widespread as the kangaroo. Or it might be because none of the national teams of Australia have taken it up as their emblem. Or perhaps it is because farmers have silently waged war on them. Farmers have long hated wombat burrows that have undermined their attempts to keep rabbits away.
The wombat is quite a foe. It is a one metre long ball of muscle. It is rarely seen in the daylight. They prefer to spend their time burrowing. Often under the most carefully built fences. The fiercest raging bushfire can almost instantaneously wipe out acres and acres of native trees, koalas, kangaroos, cows and sheep. The wombat, however, just burrows deep and sleeps through all the fuss. Then wakes to find she has a longer walk to acquire the delicacies to which she has become accustomed.
Wombats are said to live in the ranges and western slopes of Australia. They can be found around in New South Wales’ Southern highlands. Particularly along the stretch of road that by-passes the once thriving town of Goulburn. In this town, the police learn the ways of policing. They hone their skills at the police academy on the town’s outskirts. They also regularly set themselves to catch speeding drivers.
Police know the damage that happens when cars traveling in excess of 100km/h strike wondering wombats. More importantly, police understand this impact on the driver or passengers in car crashes.
Perhaps this is why they like to catch drivers who speed along the Goulburn by-pass. Some of whom are heading towards Canberra, Australia’s capital. Others might be going to the ski fields. Drivers, who have fuelled vehicles with petrol or diesel. And bodies that have filled with fries and a coke, a burger, chocolate or chips from one of the roadhouses at Marulan or Exeter.
Mr. Hamadai, like many other drivers on Australian roads, was ignorant of danger wombats can pose. This might explain why he sped along the Goulburn by-pass at 150km/h. If he was aware, he may have slowed. He may have been able to see the wombat that was about to cross his path. But Mr. Hamadai was not thinking about the damage wombats do to speeding cars. He was thinking about how quickly he dared to get his hired Ford Fairlane to the next road house. The last helpful road sign had said it was another 60 km away. Mr Hamadai was wanting to see what sort of Halal food he might be able to purchase while he filled up with petrol. He hadn’t been all that hopefully. He feared he would, yet again, have to break his strict Moslem diet because of the inadequacies of Australia’s service industry.
Mohammed Hamadai had now been in Australia for six months. He had been fortunate to get out Palestine just before the latest hostilities between them and Israel. These hostilities had then unfortunately escalated to a war with Lebanon. He had been forced to stay longer in Australia than he had hoped. He was waiting for things to calm down a bit so that he could safely get back home. And while he couldn’t fault the hospitality of the family with which he was staying. In Australia, there was a the lack of understanding of real Moslem food from most people. This had frustrated Mohammed Abu Ra’ed’s attempts to experience more of Australia.
However, now was not the time for exploring Australia. It was time for finishing his work. He was heading back to help the efforts in his homeland. All he had to do was to drive to Sydney. There he had to collect the money and re-establish contacts.
Unfortunately for Mr. Hamadai, the scourge of the Australian farmer was to become the scourge of Abu Ra’ed. All because one little wombat, one little one metre ball of muscle, decided that the moments before Hamadai’s hired Fairlane speed past was a good time to seek his usually delicacies on the other side Goulburn by-pass.
Sometime later the accident was reported. The car had strayed a long way off the road. It had then rammed straight into a very tall and solid gum-tree. It had been a particularly dark and quiet night. So, other drivers who went past that spot, were also thinking of refuelling at the roadhouses. None of them saw the distant car until the new day dawned.
Goulburn police were intrigued by the accident. Detective Gavin Jager was down in Goulburn for some guest teaching at academy. He thought that this case might make a great case study for the class. He also thought it was a great opportunity to get outside of the classroom. There he could show his poor students, none of whom seemed to make any impression on him, some real police work.
They convoyed down to the freeway. Then added to the mass of police and other emergency vehicles in the area. None of the people seemed to be in any great rush. This, Jager informed them, was probably due to the death of the drive and / or passengers of the unfortunate vehicle.
Jager casually strolled through the muddy fields of Goulburn’s latest crash site. Then he showed the students the way to stand around and collect information without attracting unnecessary attention from unwanted journalists. Despite there being none present. Although they were often found in more heavily populated areas.
The road accident report team had informed Mr Jager and his chargers, that the driver had a close encounter with a wombat at travelling well above the 110km/h speed limit. This had resulted in a broken axle. Followed by a lost wheel. The driver seemed to have some pretty good driving skills in holding things together for a short period. The car had careered off the side of the road out into the paddocks. The driver then managed to steer straight into the only tree for miles. Now that took some skill.
There were, however, a few puzzling details. It seemed that the driver had no ID on him. They had looked through the luggage, which was small and surprisingly undamaged by the crash. There was nothing of note in the now very small, open glove box. And even more puzzling was the lack of any wallet. Perhaps some local kids had seen the wreckage and pinched it before anyone had got there. The medical examiner had said the body had been dead for at least five hours.
The car seemed to be a hired car. The registration papers had been found on the underside of the mangled passenger seat. Some police had rung the hire car company to find out who had hired the car. But they were promptly informed that the car was away being repaired at a garage in Geelong. Someone would need to get to that garage and ask some questions. How had the car managed to get to Goulburn while it was supposed to be having a new boot installed? Who was responsible for it?
All these ‘minor difficulties’ as Jager thought of them, just made the accident a good example for the young academy trainees. He instructed them in how to hand over difficult police work to the very fine police offices of another state police force. These other officers would then get a free trip interstate, along with a nice travel and overtime bonus to go along with it. He explained how these things were well received. And then often reciprocated. If any of this batch of upstanding newbies were looking for some time away from a pestering parent, spouting spouse, or crazy child they should keep a look out for such opportunities.
