The Dark Horde (18 page)

When Bernard looked up, feverish with terror, the office door was wide open...

And Danny was gone.

It would be almost an hour before Bernard left the Matron’s office. Stony-faced, briefcase in hand, he strode out to his car...

Speaking to no one.

TUESDAY 1:00
PM

Sergeant Douglas McDougall sat in his 4WD patrol, squinting through rain at the discovery. The vehicle lay under a yellow wattle tree, fifty metres down a dirt road from Frank Weston’s house on the outskirts of Howqua Hills. Blossom covered the bonnet and Douglas wondered how long the car had been there...

And why it hadn’t been noticed before.

Douglas stepped out into the drenching storm. The scrub around him shook as if in terror, invaded by a chill, relentless wind.

Shoeprint-shaped puddles lay in the mud, leading from the car towards Frank’s house. Douglas stepped carefully around the scene, peering into the car.

It was unlocked and looked empty save for discarded food wrapping. Douglas noted the numberplate and returned to his patrol.

He opened the driver’s side door and reached for the two-way UHF radio fitted to the dashboard. He flicked it on to open a channel with D24, the Police Communications Division. The nearest D24 network control was in Wangaratta, an hour’s drive away.

“VKC Wangaratta, this is Howqua Hills 151 requesting a vehicle registration check.”

A voice replied over static, “Okay, Howqua Hills 151. What’s the registration?”

“Registration AES-775.”

“That’s AES-775?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, won’t be long.”

Beneath the baying wind, Douglas heard twigs snapping. It came from a stand of trees close to the far side of the vehicle he’d found.

“VKC Wangaratta, this is Howqua Hills 151 again. I’ll call back in ten minutes.”

“Okay, I should have the details for you then.”

As Douglas approached the Torana a second time, the storm abated... Only to be replaced by the fetor of filth and excrement. He paused to cover his nose.

What is that smell?

A sickening crunch sounded from the trees ahead, its source hidden.

Douglas drew his pistol. “This is the police! Who’s there?”

Only the storm seemed to answer, “Dooouuug.”

Now I’m hearing things!

He crept closer and the rancid stench increased.

Another crunch. Then a snap. This time the trees moved a little.

Douglas broke into a run, wheeling around the Torana and into the copse of trees, pistol ready. In a few frantic heartbeats, the sound’s source was revealed...

Amongst broken branches lay a gutted wallaby, twitching in agony. Red splashes meshed with bile and faeces from its split intestines. The reek was overwhelming.

“Ohhh. It’s just a joey!”

The creature turned its bloody head towards Douglas, making a strangled mewing sound.

Douglas wiped the rain from his face. “That’s quite a stink for such a small animal!”

He regarded his gun a moment and then the adjoining properties about a hundred metres away. He frowned and started to probe the bush around him.

He picked up a branch that was as thick as his arm and stepped around the wallaby to stand at its head. Curling his nose in disgust, he turned his head away as he struck.

A soft thomp sounded as he hit the wallaby’s head. It began to thrash and mew with renewed strength.

He clubbed it again and again with frantic abandon. It whined dismally, refusing to relinquish its hold on life.

Douglas ceased his efforts and stepped back from the convulsing beast.

Die damn you!

It mewed back in agonised defiance, kicking its broken legs.

Douglas looked around and spotted a lichen-covered rock the size of a watermelon a few metres away.

He squatted to lift it and heaved it over to where the wallaby lay. He raised the boulder above his head and cast it down to crush the animal’s skull...

It moved and mewed no more.

“Finally!” Douglas sighed, wiping his muddy hands on his trousers. He took a moment to appraise the stinking carcass.

What could have inflicted such a horrible attack and was it related to the murders in any way? Hmm, that’ll be a job for forensics, I think.

He walked back to the 4WD police patrol and switched on the radio. “VKC Wangaratta, this is Howqua Hills 151.”

A scratchy voice answered, “Yes, Howqua Hills. I have the information you requested.”

Douglas prompted “And that is?”

“Registration AES-775 is for a white ‘72 Holden LC Torana, expiring 10
^th
October 1989, registered to Henry Wilcox of Fitzroy North, Melbourne.”

Douglas took notes, commenting “I see.”

The voice continued, “Henry Wilcox, date of birth the 18
^th
of February 1966, was reported missing by his mother late yesterday.”

“Really? Can you fax those details through to Howqua Hills. I’ll take care of it from there.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you very much, VKC Wangaratta. That will be all.”

Douglas flicked off the radio and looked with a smile at the sun emerging from behind a grey head of cloud...

Unaware of the hulking black figure looming behind him.

TUESDAY 3:07
PM

Brian stood for a second time in the lavish reception of the VIFP. The receptionist, a young woman with hair too auburn and too much make-up, kept him waiting whilst she finished her phone call.

A little girl, maybe five years old, sat on a couch facing the entrance, staring at him. Brian adjusted his collar and smiled in her direction.

It was not returned.

“Okay, I’ll look forward to seeing you tonight... Don’t worry, I’ll pick up some wine on the way home... Okay, sounds lovely... Oh, and don’t forget to bring the photos! Ok sweet, I really better go, someone’s waiting... Ok, love you, byeee!”

The receptionist looked up at Brian. Brian flashed his badge and talked mostly to the wall beside her, “Senior Sergeant Brian Derwent with an appointment to see Dr Dawson.”

“I’ll just buzz him for you.”

She picked up the phone again and dialled an extension. “Hello David, Sergeant Derwent is here to see you.”

She hung up and announced, “Dr Dawson will come and meet you here so please take a seat. He won’t be long.”

Brian nodded slightly and sat in one of the plush chairs. He sighed loudly and stared into space, ignoring a glass cabinet displaying Ned Kelly’s inquest papers from 1880 to his left.

The little girl moved from the couch to stand in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

Brian looked into an unyielding gaze framed by childish innocence. He smirked. “I’m just here to see a friend.”

She pouted and put her hands on her hips. “You’re lying!”

The receptionist interjected, “Cayla! Don’t talk to the man like that!”

Cayla called back without looking away from Brian, “But he’s lying, mum. He’s not here for
friends
.”

Brian returned her gaze. “Cayla, why would I lie to you?”

She screwed up her face. “Cos you’re a cop!”

Brian laughed. “Yes, I
am
a cop. And that means I help people like you, Cayla.”

She didn’t move. “So what are you
really
here for?”

Dr David Dawson emerged from a doorway, unshaven and wearing his trademark white lab coat.

Brian rose from his seat and stepped past the child.

“Hello, David.”

David looked elated. “Good to see you, Brian!” He thrust his hand into Brian’s and shook it with enthusiasm. “I’m glad you could make it again at such short notice. I really appreciate it.”

“That’s–”

David continued, “Do you feel like stepping out for a coffee? I was thinking we could go chat somewhere less formal.”

Brian shrugged. “Um, I guess so. I–”

“Excellent! I’ll just go get my jacket. I’ll only be a moment.”

David turned and rushed back through the doorway from which he had appeared. Brian exhaled slowly.

You do that David, you fucking git.

His thought was broken by Cayla’s voice at his side, “Why won’t you answer me?”

He turned to look down at her. “Because I already have.”

Her mother called, “Cayla honey, come over here and leave the man alone. You can do some drawings with mummy.”

The joys of the modern workplace. They’ll ban smoking but letting children run loose is fine.

Cayla lowered her voice so as not to be heard by her mother. “We’re gunna get you, you know.”

Before Brian could respond, Cayla turned and ran to her mother. He frowned.

What a little shit of a kid!

“This ought to be a good spot.”

Brian, cappuccino in hand, looked at the table David pointed to. Isolated, it lay in a quiet corner of the café, its lacquered fake wood top complemented by cheap indoor chairs.

Brian shrugged. “It’ll do.”

David sat opposite Brian with his cup, scanning the rest of the café and the street outside. As Brian sat down, David leaned forward. “I think we should be safe here, but just keep your voice down all the same... There may be someone listening.”

Brian frowned. “David, what the hell are you talking about?”

David sat back and sighed. “Well–”

“The
short
version.”

David nodded. “Okay yes, the short version.”

“And this better be worth my coming down here.”

David grimaced. “Yes, I felt I had no other option, which you’ll come to understand once I explain it to you.”

Brian gave David a sceptical look.

“You remember everything we talked about last time?”

“Yes, yes, get to the point.”

“Well, it’s already happened... The cover-up. Only it’s much worse than I feared.”

Brian raised his eyebrows. “How so? What’s happened?”

David leaned forward again. “Sometime last night they removed all of the evidence, Brian...
All
of it. They got into my lab and the autopsy ward and took everything: the bodies, the samples, the photos, reports, computer files... Everything!”

“Who’s they?”

“I have my suspicions... Whoever it was, knew exactly what they were looking for and seemed to have no trouble getting in. Which I think can only mean that one or both of John Taylor and Chris Gamble from my lab must have done it or helped someone else. Only they had the access and knowledge of where everything was.”

“And where were they last night allegedly?”

“They were both working back late and deny any knowledge of the events. Apparently they left about 1 AM when everything was in order and no one else was here apart from the shift clerk and the security warden.”

“Have you spoken to the clerk and warden?”

“Yes I have, and they both said that they didn’t notice anything unusual. But as you know, the Institute is a big place, so the culprits would have had plenty of opportunity.”

Brian squeezed his face in his hand and took a deep breath.

He looked up at David. “Have you reported this to the police?”

“I contacted D24 first thing and got someone down here to have a look. They took our statements and dusted my lab for fingerprints, which is now sealed off as a crime scene.”

“Well, surely they’ll take care of this?”

“You’d hope so. However, I’m not so sure... John and Chris have been acting weird ever since this happened and-”

“Weird? What do you mean?”

David paused to consider his answer. “Secretive about their own movements yet keeping an eerie vigilance over mine.”

“Like–”

“Even the police that came here, Brian, they seemed, er, uninterested. You might think it’s just paranoia, but there definitely seems to be something strange going on... And they’re all in on it!”

Brian raised an arresting palm. “Whoa! Slow down there, Dave. For a start, just because an officer seems uninterested doesn’t mean that he’s plotting against you!”

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” David cast his gaze out of the window, fidgeting.

Brian forced a laugh. “So you’ve made me come all the way down here again just to tell me this in person? Because you think that your phone might be bugged and even the café down the road isn’t safe because someone may be watching!”