The Word of God (12 page)

“I will sir,” Peter heard himself say. A terrible fascination seemed to draw him towards where he could see a shape lying under a blanket on a small sandy beach beside the river. He had always liked the Mulgrave. It is a lovely river, clean and clear, fresh and cool. At the moment it was flowing gently. About waist deep, he noted inconsequentially. He had even swum at this very spot on a family picnic a few years before.

Capt Conkey and Gwen joined them. Peter didn't want her to look but she walked determinedly forward. Graham followed but Stephen stayed back with the others. They were allowed under the police tape tied from tree to tree by the constable there. He was one of the policemen they had seen the previous night.

Inspector Goldstein walked to the body and lifted the blanket from the face. From where he stood Peter could not see it but the sight of the boots protruding from the end of the blanket made him go cold with dread. He knew he was frightened of death and it took an effort to make himself go forward to look.

By then Gwen and Graham had both bent to look and Gwen straightened up at once, her lips tightly compressed. “That is definitely the man we saw yesterday afternoon,” she said.

Graham nodded. He looked very pale and slightly sick.
How I feel,
Peter thought as he forced himself to look.

Peter stared in horrified fascination. It was the man alright. The pale, waxy looking face showed signs of a bashing and there was some sort of star pattern carved onto his forehead with a razor or sharp knife. The thing which held Peter's horrified gaze the longest was the huge gash around the man's throat. The flesh had been ripped as well as cut, so savage had the slash been and the
edges of the cut had the appearance of mince. There was no blood visible, having washed off in the river.

His skin looks nearly the same as the body we fished out of the Tinaroo Dam last year
, he decided, eyeing the pale and wrinkled flesh with morbid distaste.
Well, not us. Roger actually swam in to get him. And Steve wouldn't have anything to do with that body
, he thought. That memory made Peter glance around. Stephen still stood back near the cars and was studiously not looking in their direction. He nodded. “That's him, Michael Skarface or something.”

“Skranzcy,” Gwen corrected.

The constable pointed to the man. “Hands tied behind his back with wire,” he explained to Inspector Goldstein. Peter shuddered. What a ghastly way to die!

Inspector Goldstein covered the corpse and stood up, to face the middle aged man. “Who are you?”

“Bill Jacobs sir. I was fishing.”

“You found the body?”

“Yes sir,” the fisherman replied. He looked very nervous and glanced fearfully up and down the river bank.

“Are you a local?” Inspector Goldstein asked.

“Yes sir. I'm a diesel fitter at the mill,” the fisherman replied.

“I've got his address sir,” the constable put in.

Inspector Goldstein nodded. “Good. So tell me what you saw,” he directed.

The fisherman licked his lips and glanced fearfully around again. This had the effect of causing the hairs on the back of Peter's neck to stand on end and he also felt an urge to look around for danger. The fisherman shook his head in disbelief, then said: “I was sitting on the bank about a hundred paces upstream. There's a favourite spot I got over a snag, where I can sit on the overhanging branch of a tree. That way yer can see the fish against the sandy bottom yer see.”

“Yes, yes, get on with it!” snapped Inspector Goldstein irritably.

“Well, along drives this black four-wheel drive, from this track here,” the fisherman explained, pointing upstream. “When it got to a spot just upstream of the water pipe it stopped. I can show yer where.”

“Good, show me in a minute,” Inspector Goldstein said.

“Anyhow, out gets four blokes, all dressed in black. One was this bloke here. He had his hands tied behind his back and he was gagged and I could tell he was terrified. Two of the others had black balaclavas over their faces and both had guns. The fourth wore a sort of cloak thing which hid most of his face.”

“The Black Monk!” Graham cried.

The fisherman looked startled. “Yeah. He looked like one of them Death fellas. Well, he was the boss, no doubt about that. He did a lot of talking and they proceeded to rough this fella up, then to cut him. At first I thought of calling out, but decided against it.”

“Wise move,” Inspector Goldstein agreed. “You would have met the same fate I suspect.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought. So I just sat in me tree hoping they would stop and that they wouldn't notice me. Anyhow, after about ten minutes or so they suddenly all knelt down and started praying. Fair made me blood run cold it did. Gave me a sort of feeling about what was about to happen.”

The mention of that did make Peter's blood run cold. He shivered and looked anxiously at the surrounding jungle.

The fisherman went on: “Next thing the two guys in black hauled this fella to his feet and held him on the bank. The monk fella suddenly stepped forward and set to with a knife, carving at his face. Then before I realized what he was going to do he slashed his throat from ear to ear. It was terrible. There was blood spurting everywhere.”

At that Gwen turned and retched. Joy and Megan came hurrying forward to help her. The fisherman looked embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn't mean to upset yer. I was sick meself, still am. Anyhow, they just cut off the gag and pushed the body into the water. Then they got into their four wheel drive and drove off.”

“Which way? What time was this?” Inspector Goldstein rapped.

“Towards the highway. They didn't come back across the bridge and I heard the Black Monk fella say ‘Cairns', so I reckon they went that way. That was at about eight o'clock I reckon.”

Inspector Goldstein checked his watch and swore. It was nearly nine. “Did you get the vehicle's number?”

The fisherman shook his head. “Sorry. I was too stunned by it all.”

“I've radioed a description to HQ sir,” the constable put in.

Inspector Goldstein nodded. “Very good. Now, what took you so long to report?” he snapped at the fisherman.

“I was scared- bloody terrified actually. I waited till I was sure they weren't coming back. Then I went and looked for the body, in case he was still alive. He wasn't though. He had drifted down to here and caught in the reeds over there.”

“You dragged the body ashore?”

“Yes sir. I thought it best,” the fisherman replied.

“Yes, good. OK, you cadets can go back to the cars. Mr Jacobs, you stay
with us. You will need to show us the various places, then come to the station to make a statement.”

“Can we go now sir?” Gwen asked. She looked a sickly green colour.

“Not yet. You will need to come back to the station to add to your statements. It shouldn't take long.”

“Then can we go?” Gwen persisted.

“Yes.”

So back to the station they went, a very silent group filled with worry and morbid thoughts. Charmaine became almost hysterical when she learned it was the man they had met.

“They hunted him down and killed him! Now they will come after us!” she shrieked.

“Take it easy! He was a traitor who betrayed them,” Capt Conkey tried to reason.

“I don't care! I'm scared! I want to go home, now!”

Capt Conkey went to the telephone while Inspector Goldstein got a constable to type a short statement confirming that they had identified the body. Once these were signed they were allowed to collect their gear and mobile phones. They waited out on the veranda till Capt Conkey joined them.

“The Inspector says we can leave now,” he explained. “I have phoned your parents Dean and they are going to drive down and collect you here. They should arrive by about two o'clock. Charmaine, I am driving you to Cardwell. Your father is driving up from Townsville to meet us. They are obviously very worried because I won't explain the trouble so you think of some suitable story. If need be just say the police have ordered you to say nothing and get them to contact Inspector Goldstein.”

“What about us sir?” Peter asked.

“You others may as well start walking. It is only ten now. You will easily make Little Mulgrave today. I should be back by about seventeen hundred, last light anyway. I will meet you at the hotel there. Unless of course you have had second thoughts and want to go home too?”

The cadets looked at each other. Peter was scared but didn't want to admit it. He suspected the others felt the same. After a moment he shrugged: “If you think it is safe we will continue the hike.”

“The Inspector thinks it is. I also agree with him that you are safer as a group and not at your homes on your own. So let's get moving and forget this horrible business.”

“OK, shop first,” Graham agreed.

Chapter 8

MULGRAVE VALLEY

“G
oodbye Charmaine,” Joy called as Capt Conkey's car was started up. Charmaine gave them a sickly smile and looked away. Capt Conkey nodded and let in the clutch.

Stephen curled his lip. “Silly fat bitch,” he commented as the car moved away.

“Don't be horrible Stephen,” Joy snapped. “She can't help it if she is a bit overweight.”

“A bit! She's got more blubber than a bloody whale,” Stephen retorted.

Gwen shook her head. “That's enough! We've had more than our share of unpleasantness this morning,” she said.

Graham nodded. “Yes, stow it Steve,” he agreed. “Hey Dean, you coming to the shop?”

Dean shook his head.

“Mind our gear then,” Graham added.

Peter had to smile. “If it isn't safe at the cop shop it isn't safe anywhere!” he said.

That comment at least helped lift their spirits a bit. As they walked across the park to the shops Graham and Gwen both joined in, joking in a determined effort to cheer themselves up. By the time they returned to the police station half an hour later they all felt much better.

“Oh well, packs on,” Graham ordered.

Gear was swung on and adjusted. Graham took out his map and studied it.

Peter leaned over to look. “Which way?” he asked.

“We could go along the highway, or along the tramline,” Graham replied. “I vote for the tramline. The highway will be dangerous and I don't fancy walking along with trucks and cars roaring past all the time.”

“I agree. Tramline it is,” Peter replied. In the front of his mind was the thought that they would be much more obvious walking beside a highway.

And we might attract unwelcome attention too,
he thought.

“Where is it?” Joy asked.

Graham pointed to the sugar mill. “It leads out of that. Come on, let's go. See you later Dean.”

They all chorused a farewell to Dean, who was left looking miserable and unhappy.

Graham led the way to the corner of the block and across the street to where a 2 foot gauge light railway, the ‘tramline', ran out of the sugar mill beside the 3 foot 6 inch main line. The group turned right and walked along the grass verge of the road beside the railway.

As they walked, with houses on their right and the railway on their left, Peter hoisted his pack into a more comfortable position and breathed deeply. It was a relief to be away on their own and walking. He looked up and around. The sky was clear. The cold wind had died down making it very pleasant to be outside.

As they passed the white painted Catholic Church on the next corner Peter glanced in through the doors, getting a glimpse of the altar and stained glass windows at the far end.

Knights of the Holy Grail eh? I never knew the Catholics had such a thing,
he thought.

He admitted to himself that he knew very little about Catholicism or the organization of the Roman Catholic Church. His grandparents had fled from Russia to escape the Communists so technically he was Russian Orthodox by religion. As these were very thin on the ground in North Queensland his mother had brought him up as an Anglican and he presumed all churches were more or less the same. Now he wasn't quite so sure.

On the left the main railway line curved away out onto a long concrete bridge which took it across the Mulgrave. The tramline continued straight on. Through the gap in the trees made by the railway they were given a very clear view of the entire Pyramid. Peter couldn't help glancing continually at it, remembering and wondering.

This led to more gloomy thoughts; and then to sinister ones.
Is anyone watching us as we walk along this quiet street? Are we really safe?
he worried.

He tried to shrug this off, to concentrate on the beauty of the scene, and the pleasure of being with his friends; on Joy, who was walking beside him.

Their route led them to where the tramline went into a cutting which took it under the highway at the northern end of the high level road bridge. As they walked under the highway bridge Peter looked both ways. The tops of cars and trucks could just be glimpsed as they rushed past above them. The picnic area and river bank were clearly visible. Peter could not help remembering the shocking scene they had witnessed, and wondering if the police had removed the body.

Stephen was obviously thinking along the same lines as he commented: “I wonder if the cops have caught those Devil Worshippers yet?”

“Fair go! Give them time,” Graham replied.

“Don't talk about it please,” Joy called. “I want to forget about them and enjoy the hike.”

That had the desired effect. Peter agreed with her and began to ask Joy if she knew much about the sugar industry. Because she came from Townsville he suspected she did not see its day to day operations in quite the same way as the people from Cairns did. In this he was correct and it provided a topic which carried them through a long cutting, across a small bridge and on along beside a cane field.