Morgan's Law (30 page)

An eerie green and red glow cut through the darkness and a blinding flash of white blinded her momentarily. ‘Don's aliens,' she whispered. Holy crap! So the sighting hadn't been the result of too much drink or an overactive imagination.

Picking up her pace, Sarah kept an eye on the bright light as it flew into the distance. She hurried to follow it. As she ducked under the fence to cut across a paddock, the lights she'd spotted earlier finally began to distinguish themselves—it wasn't a farmhouse she had seen from the road, it was a landing strip.

Drawing closer, she could make out the dark outline of a semitrailer parked beside an old shed and counted four men moving around inside. Why was a plane landing in the middle of a paddock? She supposed that, like many remote places, Negallan would have properties whose owners had private aircraft—although there didn't seem to be an abundance of graziers in the district who were well-off enough to afford one; certainly no one had mentioned anyone with a plane in the time she'd been here. And the haphazard way these lights were set up seemed to suggest this wasn't a permanent runway.

Up ahead the strobe-like light had grown brighter and she realised the aircraft had turned around to make its approach. Caught out in the middle of the paddock, Sarah suddenly realised how exposed she was. Sure, this could be some farmer arriving home from a city shopping trip, but something told her that was not the case. She had an uneasy feeling about this.

The dark shadow of a shed stuck out against the sky and she could make out massive bales of hay stacked under the large open-sided structure. Movement nearby startled her and she dropped down to lie on her front in the roughly ploughed field. Whatever had been growing here had been harvested and stalks were all that was left behind. It offered no place to hide. She'd have to rely solely upon the cover of darkness to conceal her presence. Feeling vulnerable, Sarah glanced around and spotted a smaller shadow off to the side of the large shed.

It appeared to be some kind of small pump house situated behind two vehicles with their headlights aimed at the runway. She figured it would offer the best place to hide until she could decide if she were simply overreacting. The men, busy inside, didn't appear to have any interest in the rusty-looking tin shed, no bigger than a large dog kennel. If she could crawl her way across to that, at least she would be hidden from anyone shining a light out over the paddock.

Keeping herself close to the ground, Sarah wiggled her way across the uneven dirt, the stubble scratching her legs and poking uncomfortably into her skin as she did so. The plane was lighting up the paddock with its landing lights and she fought the urge to get up and run, knowing she'd be seen for sure. The door of the first four-wheel drive opened and Sarah froze. A man climbed out of the cabin and took a final drag of his cigarette before tossing it on the ground. Then, bracing one arm on the top of his open door, he watched the plane as it came in low to the ground, its landing gear descending.

Sarah wondered how much runway a plane actually needed to land. The speed of the advancing lights suggested it was a lot more than what was lit up at the moment! If she stayed where she was, she was going to be directly in its path.

Without thought, she staggered to her feet and sprinted as fast as she could to escape the circle of light around her, but it was too late. A yell from somewhere behind her indicated she'd been spotted, but she didn't stop to double-check— she pumped her legs as hard as she could across the uneven ground, but the faster she ran, the slower everything appeared to be happening. Then from out of nowhere she was propelled forward by something solid and she hit the ground with a thump.

With the weight of something pressing her into the ground, Sarah couldn't catch her breath to scream as all her instincts were yelling at her to do. The pungent smell of earth filled her nostrils and there was a strange rushing sound in her ears.

A painful groan escaped as she was flipped over onto her back by her tackler and for a dazed moment she thought the man above her was some kind of angel—a glow of light circled his head like a halo.

‘What the hell are you doing here?' The savage snarl was anything but angelic, though, and recognition cut through her dazed brain. It was Trent's voice.

‘Get off me!' she gasped.

‘Do you have any idea how much shit you're in right now, Pom?'

‘Not as much as you're going to be in if you don't get off me right now!'

‘Shut up, okay? Just shut your mouth and don't say a word,' Trent growled, moments before she heard the thud of heavy boots on the ground behind them.

‘What the hell is this?' another voice demanded.

‘I . . . my car broke down back up on the road. I thought the lights were a house . . . I just want to call someone to fix my car.' She hated that her voice came out sounding so small and scared.

‘Hey. Isn't that the chick from the pub?' another voice put in, but it was impossible to make out faces with the light shining behind them.

‘Look, turn around and head back to your car. Someone will stop and give you a lift back into town eventually,' Trent said, heaving himself upright and reaching down for her hand to help her to her feet.

‘What? Are you crazy?' a younger man said. ‘She's seen us.'

The scream of engines winding down after landing drew the men's attention.

‘This wasn't part of the deal,' Trent said with a snarl.

‘Too late now, they're here. Lock her in the car and we'll deal with her later,' the first man snapped.

Sarah switched her gaze between Trent and the other men and a trickle of fear raced down her spine. She didn't know what she'd stumbled upon, but whatever it was, she knew instinctively she was in serious trouble.

Trent yanked her along roughly by the arm, practically dragging her across to the nearest four-wheel drive. Pushing her inside, he switched the back door to child lock, then lifted his furious glare to her face. ‘Get down on the floor and stay quiet.'

‘What the hell is going on here?' Sarah demanded.

‘Only you could manage to stuff this up so royally,' he said with a shake of his head. ‘You should have left town when I told you to.'

‘What are you mixed up in, Trent?' He was sweating profusely and she could see the pulse in his neck hammering away at a rapid pace.

‘Just stay down. I'll do my best to keep you safe, but you gotta just shut up and let me handle this. Get down.' He waited while she reluctantly did as she was told, then slammed the door on further protests.

The plane engine was still running and after a few minutes Sarah bit the inside of her lip uncertainly as she risked a quick peek out of the window.

There was a flurry of activity as men removed bales of hay from the centre of the shed. Sarah was puzzled as to what could be so important about unloading a heap of hay bales. Eventually, though, the front bales had all been removed and an enormous blue tarpaulin was pulled back to reveal a mountain of . . . more hay bales? She couldn't make out what the stash was, but it was obviously valuable since so much trouble had gone into creating the fake front of hay.

A human chain was formed to pass the rather untidily bundled bales down to where they were loaded into the aircraft's belly.

Sinking back onto the floor of the vehicle, Sarah shut her eyes and tried to remain calm. Nothing was going to happen to her. No, it would be fine; maybe Trent and these other men were doing something a little shonky, but surely if she had no clue what it was, she wouldn't be any threat to them? She'd just tell them she was on her way home and promise not to tell anyone about what she'd seen.

They weren't going to hurt her . . . surely?

Another peek out the window and she caught sight of the men who had arrived on the plane. They had shaved heads and tattoos down their arms. They didn't look like they came from around here, that was for sure. Now more than ever she didn't want to know who they were or what they were up to. She scanned the inside of the car and decided she had to get out of there.

Twenty-Eight

Reaching up to the interior light in the car roof, she flicked the switch to the centre, hoping that was the off position, and carefully slid over the back seat into the rear of the four-wheel drive. Carefully she lifted the handle and cringed, crossing her fingers that the interior lights wouldn't come on and alert everyone to her escape.

But before she could open the door, bright lights flooded the area from above and wind whipped up a mini dust storm as a loudspeaker ordered everyone to drop to the ground immediately.

Frozen to the spot in the back of the vehicle, Sarah could only watch in wide-eyed confusion as men scattered in all directions, despite the repeated warning to stop. She ducked down as two men ran for the vehicle she was in. She tugged frantically on the handle to open the rear door. Somehow Trent had managed to child-lock all the doors and she let out a small whimper of distress as the men approached. Then a dark blur ran for the biggest man's legs, knocking him to the ground. The second man tried to pull off the attacker; there was a flurry of arms and legs and then she caught sight of Trent trying to fight off both men. A skid of tyres and suddenly more flashing lights and noise added to the chaos as police in four-wheel drives and other vehicles descended upon the hay shed and surrounded the plane.

From the corner of her eye Sarah saw one of the men she'd vaguely recognised from the pub make a run for it—straight towards the car she was locked inside.

Her stomach clenched in fear as the man banged on the window, yelling at her to open the door. She stared at the man in terror—unable to form the words needed to tell him she was locked inside. Then in the next moment he vanished, knocked down by some unseen force. Regaining her wits, Sarah moved over to the window and tried to make out the two scrambling figures on the ground as they threw punches back and forth.

Within moments, police and bright torches descended upon them, pulling the men apart and struggling to handcuff them on the ground. It wasn't until they were dragged upright that Sarah caught a glimpse of the other man—Trent.

Banging on the window, Sarah finally caught the attention of the officers outside and, after being searched and questioned, was placed in the back of a nearby police car while they tried to bring some kind of order to the chaos around them.

Eventually the door of the patrol car was opened and Trent was pushed in the other side, still handcuffed and cursing. After the door had slammed shut, Sarah stared at the retreating back of the police officer, wondering if he was insane or just plain stupid. He was leaving her alone in the back of a car with a man who'd just been arrested for God only knew what!

Eyeing Trent carefully, she watched as he tipped his head wearily back against the seat and closed his eyes. ‘You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?' he said.

‘Says the man in handcuffs,' she said sarcastically.

His expression hardened as he opened his eyes and leaned towards her. ‘Do you have any idea how close you came to getting yourself killed out there tonight?'

‘It wasn't intentional—I didn't come here to get in the middle of whatever the hell you've got yourself mixed up in. My car broke down on the way back into town.'

‘You weren't following me again like that day in the park?'

He knew she'd been watching him?
‘I was just curious that day . . . Anyway, I was
not
following you tonight.

I didn't even know you were out here.'

‘Yeah, well, I'm beginning to suspect you just have the knack of attracting trouble wherever you go.'

‘Oh right, and all this has nothing to do with the fact you spend your time hanging around criminals.'

‘You have no idea what this is all about.' He turned away, staring out the window into the dark with a sullen frown.

Outside, the other men, mostly with their heads hanging down and their expressions grim, were being separated to be driven back into town. The more ferocious-looking of the tattooed men were being extremely vocal and Sarah averted her gaze, nervously twisting the fabric on the bottom of her shirt between her fingers.

‘They won't be bothering anyone for a while. Apparently the cops have been waiting to nab these guys for a long time.'

Sarah glanced over and saw Trent watching her. ‘You knew that and you still got mixed up with them?' she asked.

‘What were you thinking, Trent?'

‘You don't know anything about what I did or didn't do, so just leave it alone.'

‘You're right, I don't. But since I almost got killed because of it, I think you should try to explain it to me.'

‘Why do you care? You're only passing through, remember?'

Was it her imagination or did he actually sound as though he cared whether or not she was there to stay? ‘I'd like to know why you got mixed up with people like that, when you're clearly nothing like them.'

‘How would you know what I'm like? You don't know me. You don't know any of us. You may have suddenly discovered you've got Morgan blood in you, but that doesn't make you an expert on any of us.'

‘I wasn't trying to be an expert. I just want to understand what would make you do something like this.'

‘In case it's escaped your attention, this town has been falling apart. Burrapine has been doing it just as tough as everyone else—maybe even more so. Over the last few years we've had too many bad investments and crops that didn't come off . . . We could lose the place if things don't pick up soon.'

Sarah stared at her cousin, shocked by this news. Nothing about the Morgans had indicated things were that dire.

‘I started hanging out with the railway boys when they came to town—guess I talk too much when I'm pissed. I was ranting about what I'd do if I had the money to show up my old man and buy my own place. It was just a stupid thing I used to think about doing someday, but they reckoned they had a way to make a shitload of cash and for a while there I let myself believe I could actually do it.'