The Word of God (37 page)

The 4WD stopped and Inspector Goldstein called out: “Where are they?”

Peter pointed southwards. “They stopped a car and hijacked it,” answered.

“Quick!” Joy cried. “After them! Don't let them get away!”

Inspector Goldstein swore and smoothed his moustache. “Damn! Get in the back you lot. And make sure that bloody rifle is on safe.”

The vehicle was of the ‘troop carrier' type with fold down seats in the back. The cadets clambered quickly in.

By the time the vehicle was moving Inspector Goldstein was using his mobile phone, calling the Malanda police station.

Stephen wedged the rifle upright between his thighs. “I should have fired,” he said in annoyance. “If those old people hadn't been in the way I would have had a good shot.”

Detective Sergeant Davidson grunted back: “Just as bloody well you didn't. You would have found yourself on a murder or manslaughter charge.”

That hadn't occurred to Peter either and he felt quite sick at the idea.

Joy leaned forward. “Oh drive fast!” she cried.

“There is a gate,” the Detective Sergeant replied dryly.

The vehicle screeched to a stop at the gate and Graham sprang out to open it. As he swung it open the elderly lady came running over, very distressed.

“Help! Please help! Two men took our car and hit my husband,” she wailed.

“We know. We saw,” Graham replied. “These men are police,” he added, indicating the two plain clothes officers in the front of the 4WD as it drove through the gate.

“Never mind the gate!” Joy cried. “Drive fast!”

The sergeant ignored her and stopped. He climbed out, calling to Graham: “Shut the gate Kirk.”

Graham did so. Sir Miles and Inspector Goldstein also climbed out. They went over to the inert form of the old man and knelt to check him. The old lady was very upset and could hardly speak. Inspector Goldstein used his phone again and Gwen went to the lady and tried to calm her. From the nearby farmhouse a man and woman, the farmer and his wife by the look of them, came walking over.

Peter fretted with impatience but accepted that the old man had to be cared for.

Inspector Goldstein showed the farmers his ID. “There will be an ambulance along soon. Make sure it goes on up the road. Have the gate open please. There is a man up there who has been shot and he is in more danger than this gentleman.”

The farmer nodded. “We heard the shots,” he replied. “What is going on?”

“Sorry. I can't tell you. Just look after this lady please, and direct any police cars and ambulances. We must get on. We've got a snake bite victim in the back.”

The farmer's wife looked horrified. “Oh heavens!” she cried. The old lady looked even sicker. Peter twisted around to look at the Sniper, who was held up by Megan. From the back he appeared dead, his head lolling to one side and his skin all waxy looking.

Graham climbed back in with Gwen. “What happened to you blokes?” he asked.

Peter quickly relayed the tale of their climb up Robsons Track, all the while fretting with impatience. After what seemed like ages, but was actually only minutes Inspector Goldstein, Sir Miles and the sergeant climbed back in. The engine was restarted and they set off.

“Drive fast!” Joy urged. She looked very strained and gnawed at her knuckles.

“Relax!” Inspector Goldstein replied. “I've contacted the police in Malanda and they are on their way to Mr Durward's place now.”

Peter sighed with relief and settled back. Reaction now set in and he began to shake. The sergeant still drove very fast, the vehicle bouncing over potholes and taking corners and crests on the narrow bitumen road at what seemed to Peter to be a speed too fast for safety.

Within five minutes they reached the junction with the Gillies Highway and turned right. It was a familiar drive to Peter and he barely noticed the scenery. Sir Miles did however and commented how pretty it was. “Just like England this bit.”

“Except for the snakes,” Stephen added.

That made them all squirm internally and glance at the Sniper.

Graham twisted round to look. “Is he still alive?” he asked.

Gwen nodded. “Yes, but his pulse is very weak and his breathing is irregular.”

They sped on. The highway went up and down over rolling hills, through dairy farms and patches of rain forest. In the distance Peter could see the low lava dome and radio tower that marked the location of Atherton, with the blue tumble of mountains beyond covering the western horizon. The sight gave him vivid flashbacks to the time the previous year. He said to Graham: “Remember walking this last year?”

Graham grinned. “Yep. That was a bloody good hike that one.”

He was about to reminisce when Joy suddenly cried: “An ambulance!”

They saw the vehicle racing towards them, red lights flashing and siren going. To Peter's surprise they made no attempt to stop it and it flashed past.

Joy stared at it in horrified surprise. “We should have stopped them,” she cried to Inspector Goldstein.

“No. There is only one ambulance at Malanda, and another at Atherton and they are needed back at Danbulla there. We are going to take this fellow to Atherton Hospital. It will be quicker,” Inspector Goldstein answered.

“But the Black Monk will beat us then!” Joy said.

“No he won't. I've told you, we have informed the Malanda police. Saving this man is more important at the moment,” Inspector Goldstein replied.

They had to be content with that. As they passed the various turn-offs to Malanda they could only suppress their frustration. They drove fast through Yungaburra and on past the Seven Sisters and across the flat part of the Tablelands. Within twenty minutes they were in Atherton.

As soon as the vehicle pulled in at the Atherton Hospital they were met by a uniformed police officer and a medical team with a wheeled stretcher. The Sniper
was bundled out and onto the stretcher and had been wheeled away even before Inspector Goldstein had finished giving instructions to the constable to keep close guard on him.

The cadets remained in the vehicle, except Gwen, who had climbed out to allow the Sniper to be removed. Graham made a wry face and commented: “Well, we've been here before. Remember when we all ended up side by side in that ward over there?”

Peter nodded. Joy looked interested. “What happened?”

Graham answered. “Four of us went on an expedition to a place called Stannary Hills, over the other side of those mountains. We had some trouble in an old mine with a gang of crooks and ended up in hospital with various burns, cuts and bruises,” he explained.

“Did the crooks get caught?” Joy asked.

“Yes,” Graham replied.

Peter had a vivid flashback to that terrifying night which he and Stephen had spent locked in an old house waiting to be burned alive. “Graham is too modest,” he said. “He saved us by walking half the night on his own with a broken arm.”

Joy's eyes widened. “Ooh! What happened? Tell me,” she said.

Peter gave her the outline of the story. Gwen leaned in to listen. Inspector Goldstein turned and told her to get in, then climbed in himself. “Malanda,” he told the sergeant.

Peter nodded with satisfaction and checked his watch. It was just coming up to 6pm. The sun was already dropping behind the mountains and a distinct chill had set in. Once again Joy urged the sergeant to drive fast.

They went out along the other road to Malanda. Ordinarily Peter would have thoroughly enjoyed the drive. Sir Miles pointed out the window. “I can see now why it is called a Tableland.”

They sped on in the twilight. A rosy glow lit up the Seven Sisters and Mt Quincan, enhancing the beauty of the scene.

Joy stared out the window. “I love the way all the dairy cows take themselves to the milking shed and line up,” she commented.

That caused chuckles from Peter and Graham, both of whom had some experience of dairy farms. That set them off reminiscing about their adventure below Mt Bartle Frere, which now stood up bold against the darkening sky in the distance.

It was still quite light when they arrived in Malanda twenty minutes later. By then Peter was feeling very stiff and tired. As they did not know where to go
Inspector Goldstein got on the phone and asked the local policemen. As they talked something in the Inspector's tone caused a tiny flicker of worry.

“Mr Durward is not at his house,” he said. “Turn right here sergeant and go up this street beside the church.”

They drove along several quiet streets in the lovely little country town until they came to a low weatherboard house in a back street. A police 4WD was parked out front and a uniformed officer stood there. The sergeant parked the vehicle and everyone climbed out. Peter stretched and breathed in deeply to wake himself up. The heated air in the vehicle had been making him very drowsy. Here the air had a real nip to it and he wished he had his jacket.

The Senior Constable reported at once. “I drove here within two minutes of receiving your call sir. The house was closed up and none of the neighbours report seeing Mr Durward at all today.”

“You've had a look around?”

“Yes sir.”

“No one suspicious lurking in the area?”

The Senior Constable indicated the deserted suburban street with a grimace. “No sir.”

“Let's have another look, then we will check for friends and relations,” Inspector Goldstein said.

They all walked in along the pathway. The house had a gravel drive way down one side. This led to an open garage at the rear. The lawn was well kept and the garden in good condition. The front door and all the windows were closed.

“Perhaps he's away?” Gwen suggested.

“Possibly,” the Senior Constable replied.

“Any other family?” Inspector Goldstein asked.

“Wife died two years ago. There are some grown up kids. I think there's a daughter living on the other side of town,” the Senior Constable replied.

“Ask the neighbours. Find out, and keep your eyes peeled for this Black Monk and his associate,” Inspector Goldstein replied.

“Yes sir,” the Senior Constable said. He turned and went back along the path.

Inspector Goldstein knocked, then tried the door. There was no response. By then it was dark enough for the surrounding houses to have their lights on and it made it hard for them to see in the unlit windows. The group made its way around to the back of the house, looking in each window as they went.

At the rear was a large lawn and vegetable garden. As well as the garage there was a garden shed, an old outdoor dunny and a greenhouse full of pot plants.

Stephen studied these. “Old Fred's a keen gardener,” he commented. “Look at all those orchids. I must tell my oldies. They would love to visit here.”

Gwen walked on to the end of the green house to look around the back of the garden shed. Peter stood in the middle of the lawn feeling worried and frustrated. In his mind he ran over the timings and decided there was no possibility of the Black Monk having arrived before the policeman.

A soft gasp from Gwen made him turn. Suddenly the adrenalin was pumping and he was moving.

The Black Monk! And he had Gwen!

“Stand still or I shoot the girl,” the Black Monk grated, his foreign accent very noticeable.

Peter came to a standstill, his hands opening and closing in frustration. The Black Monk had been in the shed. He now had his arm around Gwen's neck from behind. His pistol was jammed against her head.

The others came running and stood in a group beside Peter. Inspector Goldstein and the sergeant both had their pistols out but could do nothing.

The Back Monk glared at them. “Where is the man Durward?” he rasped.

Inspector Goldstein answered. “We don't know,” he replied.

Joy took a step forward. “He's not here. Let Gwen go you beast!” she cried.

The Black Monk ignored her. “Then find him and tell me. Then I will let this girl go,” he said.

Peter stared in fascinated horror at the scene. His heart seemed to stop beating and was gripped by icy fingers. Deep down he sensed that the Black Monk was deadly serious and he feared that he would never see Gwen again.

Inspector Goldstein kept his pistol levelled and rock steady. “How will we contact you?” he asked.

“I will contact you. You have a mobile phone. Give me your number. Write it down Herr Schwarze Ritter,” the Black Monk replied.

From out of the shed stepped a dishevelled looking Sir Richard. He also had a pistol but now pocketed it and took out a notebook and pencil. Inspector Goldstein gave them two numbers by which he could be contacted.

The Black Monk next said: “Now back off. Vork back along der driveway. Put your guns down.”

“No,” Inspector Goldstein replied. He kept his pistol trained on Sir Richard but motioned with his free hand for the others to move back. Reluctantly Peter did so. He had been waiting for an opportunity to act but could see none.

One false move here and Gwen is dead!

Inspector Goldstein also moved backwards. The Black Monk hauled Gwen the other way, to the back fence. Sir Richard went with them. He climbed over the low fence and took out his own pistol. The Black Monk passed Gwen to him, then climbed over the fence and told her to follow. Peter marvelled at Gwen's self control.

If it was me I would be cacking myself,
he thought.

The Black Monk again took over holding Gwen. “Now find Mr Durward policeman, or you will never see this girl alive again. And be sure she will die slowly and horribly,” he threatened.

The ghastly threat chilled them even more. Joy gasped and began to sob. Peter had absolutely no doubt that the Black Monk meant exactly what he said.

The Black Monk, Gwen and Sir Richard backed off across the back lawn of the next house. When they were level with the side of the next house they suddenly turned and walked quickly out of sight.