Vanishing Point (29 page)

Petri gasped with the sharp blow to the back of his head. As he slumped to the ground he vaguely heard screaming, children crying and a dog barking. Then all went quiet as a velvet blackness enveloped him.

* * *

Petri found himself lying in a darkened room. His hands were tied tightly behind his back. It took him a while to recall what had happened. His head ached but since he could both see and remember he felt that probably not too much damage had been done. It was hot, the walls of corrugated iron were almost too hot to touch. Light filtering through small holes revealed it was a storeroom. Boxes of tinned food lined the walls.

He went unsteadily to the door and tried to push it open with his shoulder. It didn't budge. From the pattern of shadows he could see there were a couple of bolts on the outside. He knew he was in trouble. In all of the situations he had faced in his life, he had never experienced anything like this.

He could hear the man shouting and the woman responding. He never did find out her name or the full story behind her claim to be a kidnap victim. He wondered if it was all true or just some sort of set-up. Perhaps to steal his four-wheel drive?

No, that was unlikely. She seemed genuine enough, and genuinely terrified of the dogger. He needed a plan.

* * *

White-faced, Katherine crouched in the corner, shaking, with her knees tucked under her chin. Her back was bruised from the whipping Karl had administered when he saw the broken gates.

‘Wadda ya think I'm gunna do now, ya stoopid bitch? Ya've really fucked up this time.' Karl paced across the room. His eyes were wild.

Katherine pulled her children closer. Carolyn snivelled, now too frightened even to cry and Isaac lay, wide-eyed, in the crook of her body.

Karl aimed a kick at her as he passed. ‘Benjamin's gunna be real mad with youse lot, with all of us, when he sees what ya've done. Do ya know how hard it is to get a fence, a gate anythin' fixed round here? Stoopid, bloody bitch. Bloody fuckin' stickybeakin' fuckin' geos.'

Karl stopped pacing. He knew what to do about Benjamin. He didn't need to worry about Katherine's bruises anymore. All he had to do was get rid of Benjamin and take over his identity. Then he'd own his Toyota, his gun, radio and above all, the woman.

Getting rid of Benjamin would be easy. But a stranger? If something happened to him police might come sniffing around. He'd managed to stay clear of them for a long time. He wasn't prepared to risk losing everything again. He needed to think.

He had to work out a way of getting rid of that bloody geologist. He could perhaps tell him that the woman was a crazy and had to be kept there. Perhaps he could talk him into going away and forgetting this whole thing. Karl recognised that talking an intelligent man into believing a cock and bull yarn would take all of his limited skills. Perhaps he could suggest that no action would be taken about the broken gates and attempted stealing of his woman if he just took his vehicle and left?

His thoughts were interrupted. ‘Please, Karl. Can I get a drink of water for myself and the children?' Katherine was still huddled in the corner.

He ignored her request. ‘What did ya tell that bastard out there? Who did ya tell him I was, an' ya was?'

‘I didn't get a chance to tell him anything, honestly. He thinks I'm your wife. I just told him I hated living here and needed to get away. I said I'd stay with him if he helped me get away from you.' Katherine changed her tone of voice. ‘I reckon he sort of liked me. I think he maybe wanted to … to have sex with me.'

Now she was making sense. ‘Yeah, I kin unnerstand that. So ‘e thinks ya my wife, eh? Thinks ‘e kin jist come bargin' in an' take off with another bloke's woman, jist like that, eh? Bloody cheek of the bastard.'

The irony of the situation did not even dawn on Karl. But it gave him the confidence that somehow he might get rid of the stranger without compromising his plan to keep Katherine for himself. ‘Okay. Let's go see ‘im.'

Ordering Carolyn to stay with Isaac, he grabbed Katherine by her wrist and pulled her after him, across to the tin shed. ‘Jist don' try nothin' bitch, or say nothin'. I'se warning ya.'

Petri heard the bolts being slid back. He counted two, one top and one bottom. The door opened and the glare of the mid-morning sun almost blinded him. Katherine was thrust forward, bumping against him so he lost his balance and fell backwards on to his bound hands. He winced.

Katherine staggered as Karl pushed his way past her. ‘I really dunno what ta do with ya. Bloody stranger what comes ‘round ‘ere, tries ta steal me wife, fucks up me fence an' causes me trouble. Should I shoot ya, or what?'

Petri was now confused. The woman had told him she was not his wife but a prisoner. From the way she acted he felt sure she'd told the truth. He decided to say as little as possible and find out what was going on.

Karl nudged him with a boot. ‘So, speak up, man. What should I do with ya?'

‘Look, I'm sorry, mate. I came to collect geological samples and when you wouldn't let me down the track I thought maybe I could persuade your wife to let me through.'

‘Oh, yeah! So ya busted me fuckin' gates, an' then drove off with me wife an' kids. Them's funny kinda samples ya collect.'

‘No, no it wasn't like that. It was only when your wife came to the gate and asked me to help her get to the city. She told me she didn't want to stay here, said it wasn't good for her or the kids to be out here. She just wanted me to give her a ride to town.'

‘An' ya just believed all her bullshit? Smash me fuckin' gates ‘cause she asked ya for a lift?'

‘The gates were locked so I thought I could just let her out if I gently broke the lock. I didn't mean to break the gates as much as I did, just wanted to break the lock. I'm really sorry.'

Karl felt that wonderful sense of power again. Not only did he have Katherine scared of him, but this clever bastard of a geologist was grovelling and apologising. ‘Yeah, well sorry ain't gunna fix ‘em, is it? So what ya gunna do, eh?'

‘Look, I really am sorry. I just thought I'd be helping your wife. I realise now it was none of my business. I'll pay for any damage and then go. Leave you folk in peace.'

Behind the dogger, Petri saw Katherine's face crumple and her whole body slump as he spoke. It was then that he realised with certainty that she was in real trouble. His mind raced. ‘Tell you what, I'll help fix the gates as best I can and give you a cheque to pay for the damage. Then I'll go get more wire and stuff from Kal. You just tell me what —'

‘Nah. That ain't gunna work.' Karl certainly didn't want the nosey geologist hanging around any longer than necessary. ‘Gimme what cash ya got an' a cheque for a coupla hundred bucks. Cash cheque. I'll get the stuff meself next time I'm in Kal. Then you can fuckin' well piss off ta where ya come from.'

Behind Karl Petri could see Katherine's eyes close slowly then open looking directly at him. She said nothing but her whole face expressed her desperation.

‘My stuff's in my ute. Untie me and I'll go get the cash and write a cheque. And I really need a drink of water and a pee.'

‘Okay. Jist don' fuck me round or ya'll be back in ‘ere soon as look at ya.' Karl reached into his pocket and took out a vicious looking flick-knife. With one slice he cut through the rope binding Petri's hands. Petri rubbed his wrists and shrugged his aching shoulders. He rubbed the sore place on the back of his head and started out of the shed, followed closely by Karl, still holding the knife, and Katherine.

‘Ya stay ‘ere,' Karl ordered Katherine. ‘Look after ya kids. Don' move from ‘ere.'

Katherine was too scared to think straight, too frightened to even imagine trying another attempt. Then, as she saw Karl walking out the broken gates with Petri, she had an idea. A desperate, last-ditch idea.

I
t was a long and silent walk back to the Toyota. Karl carried his flick-knife, open, and his precious gun was slung across his shoulder. He walked close behind Petri all the way. By the time the men got to the vehicle both were perspiring.

Petri bent to pick up the scattered maps but Karl nudged him with the knife. ‘Jist git in.'

Petri obeyed and, thankfully, the engine started easily. He pulled up at the broken gates.

Karl spat on to the floor of the ute. ‘Ya needn't git out. I don' need ya help with the gates. Sooners gorn the better.' The dogger got out, slammed the door and watched as Petri started a three-point turn to leave.

Petri looked to where the woman was standing on the veranda. As soon as she saw him preparing to leave without re-entering the compound she waved and started running towards the vehicle.

Petri couldn't hear what she was shouting but realised she was running as hard as she could to reach him before he drove off. He took his time in reversing.

Karl stood at the gates. ‘Piss off, ya bastard, an' don' come back,' he shouted.

Petri deliberately stalled the vehicle to enable the woman to reach him. She thrust a brown paper bag through the window.

‘Here, some lunch for you. I've made some sandwiches,' she panted.

‘Hope ya ain't tried to be a clever puss, bitch.' Karl grabbed the package before Petri could take it and checked the wrappings. Seeing nothing suspicious, he smiled and crudely bundled the sandwiches back into the paper. He shoved the mucky package at Petri. Lifting his rifle, he said, ‘Okay, jist piss orf now. Youse done enough fuckin' damage. If I sees ya ‘ere agin ya'll be dead meat. Unnerstan'? Dead meat.'

Petri completed his turn and drove away. In his rear-view mirror he could see the dogger with one hand on his hip, the other casually holding the rifle. The woman was slowly walking back to the buildings.

He kept driving.

When he reached the tee-junction between the dogger's track and the Cundeelee road he stopped to think of what he should do. He opened the sandwiches and, like Karl, looked very carefully at the wrapping for a possible message, one Karl might have missed. There was none. He took a bite and started to chew. The tinned meat was something he disliked and tried to avoid. However, he was hungry and needed to think.

He stopped chewing. This meat seemed worse than usual. He realised there was something in his mouth other than bread and meat. He spat it out. It landed in the sand. For a while he stared at the lump, wondering if it was a contaminated tin that had been used. Suddenly it dawned on him. He picked up the soggy mess and with great care spread it out.

It was a note.

In spite of his care the paper was so damaged that much of what was written was illegible. Petri smoothed out the remains carefully and managed to make out a few words: 

Katheri … Thompson … duna ‘65. Husband … geo … prison here Help us.

Con … t police urg … You … hope.

‘Good God! Katherine Thompson,' Petri said. The realisation suddenly hit him. Until that moment he had not realised that the dishevelled, deeply tanned blonde he had just seen must surely be his friend's missing wife.

He found it difficult to relate the distraught woman at the old station to the pretty girl whose photograph Alec kept on his desk. But once the connection was made he was absolutely certain he was right. Same hair colour, same eye colour. It had to be her.

He knew now he had to do something quickly. If he drove back to Kalgoorlie to alert the police, several days would have passed by the time they confirmed his story, even with the evidence of the scribbled note. He had to do something more direct to try and rescue her. And the children. Two of them. Alec had mentioned only a daughter. The other child must be the dogger's.

He waited at the intersection until late afternoon when the Royal Flying Doctor Service telegram service was about to start then turned on his radio.

‘Sierra November Bravo, this is Sierra November Bravo.'

‘Come in Sierra November Bravo, you are acknowledged and in the queue.'

His call was amongst the first. He impatiently tapped the steering wheel, not taking his eyes off the track, as he waited. After what seemed like an age, he got the call-back.

‘I want to send an urgent telegram then get you to contact the police. The telegram is to Dr Alec Thompson at the Royal School of Mines, Imperial College, University of London, South 

Kensington, England. Urgent. Have located Katherine, repeat Katherine. Both well but held against will. Location WA CSIRO station NW Cundeelee. Have advised police in Kalgoorlie. Over.'

‘Is that Katherine with a C for Charlie? Over'

‘K for kilo. Over'.

‘Repeating back to you,' The message was repeated back correctly before the final ‘over.' As the sun dipped lower on the horizon the reception became less clear.

‘Correct. Over.'

‘This sounds pretty dramatic. Do you want us to initiate further action, Sierra November Bravo? Over.' came the crackled question from base.