A Croc Called Capone (9 page)

I nearly said something. I didn't want to go home. More to the point, I knew Dyl wouldn't want to go home. He'd be devastated. And, when I glanced at Rose and Cy, I could see the same reaction in their faces. But Mum jumped in before any of us could react.

‘Of course we must go home,' she said. ‘There's nothing else to do. That poor boy. And his poor parents. Oh, my God.' She bit at the corner of a fingernail. ‘What will his parents say? We've only been here a few hours and we've nearly killed him. What kind of people are we?'

‘Mum,' said Rose, ‘it wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was an accident.'

But Mum wasn't in the mood to hear that. ‘Don't be stupid, Rose,' she yelled. If the circumstances had been different I would have been happy. It's not often Rose cops any kind of criticism. But clearly the sunbeams radiating from her bum were undergoing an eclipse.

‘Your father and I are responsible for Dylan,' Mum said in softer tones. ‘That is the deal we made with his parents when they agreed to let him come along. To look after him. To make sure no harm came to him. To ensure precisely that no accident happened. And we failed. There can be no excuses. And now we need to get him back to his parents. It's the very least we can do.'

‘Your mother is right,' said Dad. ‘I don't think we've any other option.'

I said nothing. There was no point. Anyway, I was worried someone would ask me what I'd seen out there on the boat. Everyone was making the assumption Dylan just slipped off the side. Only I knew that it was really his own fault. Who, in their right mind, would climb onto a railing and lean out over a man-eating crocodile? No one. But Dylan had never been in his right mind. If my parents knew him as well as I do, they'd realise this was completely normal behaviour.

I wasn't going to tell them that, of course. Dyl is barking mad, but he's my mate.

So I wandered off down to the beach, while Mum and Dad went to the front office to make arrangements. I'd have gone to the cabin – I was sure Dyl wouldn't be asleep – but I knew I'd be in serious strife if I was seen. Anyway, I needed quiet time.

Not that I got it. Blacky appeared at my side almost as soon as I reached the water's edge.

‘Wotcha, bucko,' he said.

‘Hey, Blacky,' I replied. ‘Wassup?'

‘From where I'm standing, just your head up your own butt.'

I wasn't in the mood, so I didn't say anything. I picked up a couple of flat stones and skimmed them across the ocean's surface. It was lovely here. I'd miss it.

Blacky sniffed around a patch of sand and then cocked his leg up against a washed-up branch. I watched the thin yellow stream dwindle and die.

‘Well, boyo,' he said. ‘You're back earlier than I expected, but that's all to the good. Ready for our trip?'

‘No. What's the point?'

‘The point, mush, is that you have a mission to fulfil.'

‘Well, you can forget about the mission,
tosh
,' I replied. ‘I know you know what happened to Dyl today. You can read my mind, after all. There's no chance of me and Dylan doing anything without being supervised by Mum, Dad and probably thirty hired bodyguards. And that would be true even if we weren't on the point of leaving anyway.'

‘There are no flights out today, boyo. This isn't Sydney, in case you hadn't noticed. The earliest you'll be leaving is tomorrow night.'

‘So?'

‘So, tosh, you still have time to do some good. But time
is
running out now. Your dipstick mate has made sure of that.'

I skimmed another stone. It felt like I was carrying a heavy weight. This holiday was finished before it had properly begun. The truth was beginning to sink in.

I had no enthusiasm for anything.

‘Look, Marcus,' said Blacky. His tone was unlike any I'd heard from him before. ‘I know you're sad. But this mission is important. If you don't do something now, you'll regret it later on. When you get home. You have a chance to make a difference. Take it. While your mum and dad
aren't
around to spoil it.'

Did he call me Marcus
?

I skimmed another stone and thought it through. Blacky had a point. Feeling down shouldn't stop me doing the right thing. Maybe – just maybe – I could salvage something from this disaster. Plus, I was curious about Murray Small. What was it Blacky had said? That he'd
show
me what Murray got up to on those bushwalks. And I had nothing better to do.

‘Okay, Blacky,' I said. ‘You win.'

‘I normally do, tosh. I normally do. Follow me.'

He took off down the beach. I chucked my remaining pebbles on the sand and followed. Despite everything, I felt my spirits lift. It wasn't every day Blacky was sympathetic to my feelings. It wasn't
any
day, come to think of it. He'd called me Marcus. He knew I was sad and felt sorry for me.

‘Don't get used to it, mush,' came a voice in my head. ‘I'll sink to any depths to get results.'

We didn't stay on the beach long. After a couple of hundred metres, Blacky climbed a dune and disappeared into stunted bush. I had difficulty keeping up. Judging by the foul smell I was wading through, he was using his bum as a super-turbo-charger.

‘Blacky!' I yelled. ‘Not so fast.'

‘No time to waste, tosh,' he replied. He did slow down a bit, though.

The bush thickened and the ground underneath grew soggy. Once or twice, my feet sank into soft mud and I had to pull them free with sucking sounds. Pools of water were all around, as were strange trees with roots that bulged from their trunks and snaked down into wet earth.

‘Mangroves, mush,' said Blacky. ‘Fascinating things. Ancient. Pity your lot have bulldozed so many to build shopping malls, multi-storey carparks and high-rise apartment blocks. Still, progress, huh?'

I wasn't in the mood for another lecture about the environment. Anyway, a disturbing thought had struck. I gazed around a threatening landscape. The air was thick with moisture and the whine of mosquitoes. I felt as though we were a million kilometres from another human being.

‘Is it dangerous out here, Blacky?' I asked.

‘Dangerous? No, tosh. Safe as houses.' He paused. ‘Apart from … hey, never mind. Come on. Not much further now.'

I didn't budge.

‘Apart from what?'

‘Nothing, really. Just … you haven't got any open cuts on your legs or feet, have you?'

‘I don't think so. Why?'

‘Then don't worry about it.'

That was it. I wasn't going any further until he told me. Blacky sat on a small hummock amid the wetness and fixed me with his pink-rimmed eyes.

‘Okay,' he said finally. ‘It's just that there
is
a bug in the earth that can get into your bloodstream through small nicks in the skin. It only comes to the surface when it's wet.' I looked around at the flooded land. ‘Little possibility of getting infected, though. You've more chance of being struck by lightning.'

I didn't point out that with my luck I'd probably experience both. I simply let a glowing image of a question mark float through my mind.

‘It's called meliodosis,' Blacky continued. ‘Can be a teensy-weensy bit nasty.'

‘How nasty?'

‘Well, not
bad
. After a while your arms and legs fall off. Then you die … If you're lucky.'

‘Well, gosh, Blacky,' I said. ‘Thank goodness it's only a teensy-weensy bit nasty. I thought I might be in trouble there for a moment.'

‘Nah, mush. You're much more likely to be bitten by a snake.'

I was on the point of moving forward again. I stopped.

‘Snake?'

‘This
is
the Territory, tosh. Home of some of the most venomous snakes in the world. But I wouldn't worry, if I were you. After all, it's the crocs you've
really
got to watch out for.'

‘Let me get this straight, Blacky,' I said. ‘Apart from a bug that makes bits of you drop off and deadly snakes and man-eating crocodiles, this is a completely safe place?'

‘Well, of course there's also …'

‘Never mind,' I said. ‘I don't want to know. Lead on.'

Suddenly, I needed to get out of there.

This river wasn't as broad as the one we'd been on for the croc cruise. Blacky and I stood on the edge and looked at the body floating a few metres from shore.

‘This is the doing of your mate Murray,' said Blacky. ‘Your “reasonable guy”. Tell me, bucko. Does this look reasonable to you?'

The crocodile's pale, almost white, underbelly bobbed gently. Its short arms floated to the side in pathetic openness. I don't know which emotion I felt first: sadness or anger.

‘He shot it earlier,' Blacky continued. ‘When you guys were on the cruise. Trouble is, he didn't kill it cleanly. It was sunning itself on the bank when it took a round in the head from a high-powered rifle. Got into the water. Tried to swim away. Murray couldn't get to the body, so he just went off in search of other prey while this croc took half an hour to die.'

It took me a minute to find my voice.

‘But it's illegal. He's a doctor!'

‘Yes. And a big-game hunter. This is what he does for kicks, tosh. Not just here, but all over the world. Africa, South America. He's killed lions, elephants, all manner of animals. Endangered? Doesn't matter to him. If it's big and wild, he wants to kill it.'

I badly needed to sit down, but the ground was wet and we were very close to the bank. Suddenly I became aware of what might be lurking under the surface of that slow-moving river. I moved back a few paces.

‘I don't get this, Blacky,' I said. ‘Murray Small arrived yesterday. He couldn't have brought a rifle with him and it's a helluva way to the nearest gun shop. It doesn't make any sense.'

‘He has money, boyo. Lots of money. It's not difficult to arrange for a couple of other guys to come here in a four-wheel drive with all the equipment he needs. Another thing you must understand. He isn't interested in skins or heads on the wall. His accomplices take whatever trophies they want from the slaughtered animals. He just likes the act of killing. And it means there's no evidence to connect him with the crime.'

I couldn't take my eyes from the crocodile's body.

‘And here's a coincidence, mush. That's Al's brother floating out there.'

‘Al?'

‘Al Capone, the croc that nearly chomped your twonk of a mate. He is not going to be pleased.'

I ran my hands through my hair. There were so many things I couldn't get straight in my head. My hair was one of those things, but I didn't bother about that then.

‘How do you
know
this stuff, Blacky?' I said. ‘I mean, all that about him killing lions and elephants. You couldn't have seen that with your own eyes.' Then again, I thought, he'd managed to smuggle himself onto a plane to get here. I had a sudden image of Blacky in a gondola, sailing down a canal in Venice. Blacky in a pith helmet in an African jungle. Blacky taking a snapshot of the Taj Mahal.

‘I gather information, tosh,' he replied. ‘I am the hub of a national and international confederation of animals. There's not much that goes on in the world that I don't know about. Think of me as a masterspy. I send agents out into the field. I plan operations. I …' ‘Yes, okay, Blacky.' He was so full of hot air, it was a wonder he didn't float. ‘I get the idea. And now what?'

‘Now, tosh, you stop him. Before others die.'

I thought about Murray and people like him all over the world. Bringing death, not just to individual animals, but pushing whole species to the brink of extinction.

Blacky was right. It was wrong. It was evil. The killing had to stop.

But how?

‘I can't do everything, boyo,' said Blacky. ‘Try using that flabby thing you call a brain.'

I tried, but couldn't get past the fact I was a smaller-than-average eleven year old and Murray Small had the build of a larger-than-average rugby prop-forward. Plus he had a gun. It was hopeless.

Impossible.

And that was when the idea hit me.

Blacky cocked his head.

‘That might just work, mush. That might very well work. Amazing. The human brain
does
function. Follow me.'

And he took off into the bush again.

It was twenty minutes before we heard the first gunshot, another ten before we heard voices.

Blacky and I slowed down. We moved from tree to tree, trying to sneak up on them. Not much of a problem for a small dog, especially one who was also apparently a master of disguise, but tricky for an eleven year old whose feet kept getting stuck in foul-smelling sludge. The cover wasn't great here, either, and the land was so flat there was no chance of peering over a convenient hummock, the way they do in movies. Luckily, the men were busy dragging something up to a ute that was totally smeared with red dirt and brown mud. They were concentrating so hard that Blacky and I managed to sneak closer without attracting attention.