The Roadhouse

by Kerry McGinnis

  Jerking my eyes open, I glared wildly into the brilliance beyond my pathetic sanctuary and saw a stooping stranger peering at me through the wattle. Expecting Belligrin I could only gape. Did the man’s presence mean … Had he a partner all along …? My mind grappled to make sense of it as I drew my legs up in a vain attempt to work myself deeper into my illusory cover.

  Then a voice cried, ‘Charlie! Thank God!’ and Mike was suddenly there, pushing past the other man to shoulder his way into the thicket. He looked frantic, a pinch-bar of all things hanging from his belt. It caught on a wattle stem and, swearing, he wrestled it violently free before reaching for me. ‘Are you okay?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve been so worried! We crossed your tracks half a kay back and I didn’t dare to hope – but Len swore he recognised the print of your shoe …’ And then of course I knew him, the other man. Not some sinister sidekick of Belligrin’s but Len Wilder, the gem hunter.

  ‘I’m fine.’ I gulped shakily. ‘Thank God it’s you!’ Then, as his arms closed about me, I burst into tears. ‘Really, I’m fine,’ I sobbed idiotically. ‘But I’m so thirsty, and I sprained my ankle. And I thought you were him coming to k–kill me …’

  ‘Shh, it’s okay, love. I’ve got you. Come on, let’s get you out of here. How did that bastard get hold of … Never mind that now. Len, where’s the water?’

  ‘Right here.’ The old fossicker pressed an army canteen into my hands and everything was suspended while I drank. The fluid restored me and, knuckling my cheeks dry, I sighed and continued to sip.

  ‘Thank you. That’s better. But what on earth are you both doing here? I’m still not sure I’m not dreaming – are you real?’

  Mike gently pinched my arm. ‘Does that feel real? We were heading for Mica Valley when Len saw your tracks. The vehicle’s a kay or two back there.’ He jerked a thumb behind him. ‘The thing is,’ he began, picking sticks from my hair. ‘Haven’t you got a hat? Okay I see it, I’ll get it … The thing is,’ he repeated after handing me the recovered head gear, ‘old Len here is quite a tracker and you’re wearing the same shoes you had on when we last met. He actually remembered the print on the sole. Pretty good going, eh?’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But how – I thought you’d left the area, Len?’

  ‘Ah well.’ He looked briefly abashed. ‘We were camped at the Gem Tree, see – I’ve found some nice beryls there in the past – and me and Cora had a bit of a row. She’s got a tongue on her when she’s a mind to sound off, and I sort of cleared out for a day or two to let her calm down. Thought I might as well take a run out to the Harts again, then this bloke flags me down on the road.’

  ‘He delivered the ransom note,’ Mike said, cutting the explanation short. ‘Belligrin was on the Alice side of your turn-off with a wheel off, pretending he had a flat. Told Len the tyre was buggered and asked him to run the letter into the roadhouse. It was supposed to have a cheque in it for a new tyre. So Len was there when Bob got your note and he offered to help. He knows the area backwards, said he could get me within a few kay or so of the Valley without using the regular track.’

  I remembered then. ‘I heard you. Only for a moment and I thought I’d imagined it because we’re miles from the highway.’ My heart had sunk at his words. I said apologetically, ‘I don’t think I can walk any further, Mike. I’m sorry. Can you get the vehicle closer to me?’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s no time, love. We have to be where he said before four and it’s past three o’clock now. You needn’t walk a step – just wait here till we come back for you.’

  Panic seized me again and I grabbed his arm. ‘No! I can’t! What if he finds me again? He’s out here right now somewhere, searching … Please, Mike, don’t leave me. Can’t we just go home?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. We set a trap for Belligrin. Bob’s gone to meet him, with a parcel we faked up to draw his attention while we sneak up on him – that’s why the timing’s important.’ He bit his lip. ‘We have to be there, because when he learns the truth he might —’

  ‘He will. Oh, God, what have you done, Mike? He’ll kill Bob too.’ I started to shake, my mind fetching disasters from some dark corner faster than I could view them. ‘He’s got nothing to lose and you’re going up against him with a pinch-bar? You’re as crazy as he is! Couldn’t you at least have got the rifle from the gun safe?’

  ‘No! We thought he had you, remember. And bringing a rifle into the mix seemed a sure way to get you killed. Though, as it’s turned out, it might’ve been a good idea, but it’s a bit late to think on that now.’

  ‘And Bob,’ I moaned. ‘He’s old and slow and so damned cranky he’s likely to talk himself into a bullet. Why didn’t you just call the police?’

  Len snorted. ‘And have them fart around for hours getting permission and sending for helicopters and what-all? He’ll be fine, Charlie. He’s got that young feller with him and if we get a move on, there’ll be the two of us in the mix as well. So, what about it, Mike? We going or what?’

  ‘But it’s kilometres back there,’ I protested. ‘You’ll never make it in time. And what young feller are you talking about?’

  ‘Eric,’ Mike said. ‘And Len reckons the Valley’s just over the next ridge. I know it must seem further but you’ve travelled a half circle, Charlie. If you really won’t wait here, then I reckon we can get you that far between us – what do you think, Len?’

  The old fossicker sprang upright from his squatting position and winked at me. ‘Of course we can, featherweight like her. Let’s get started, boy.’

  Thank you,’ I said fervently. ‘Help me up, please.’

  With a man on either side of me taking most of my weight, we progressed surprisingly quickly compared to my previous efforts with the stick. And quite soon I was mortified to see that Mike was right: if I’d continued on my previous line from where they’d surprised me, I’d have found myself almost back where I’d started. So much for the sense of direction on which I’d prided myself. To take my mind off my ankle, which, even with the weight off it, still hurt abominably, I took a breath to gasp, ‘How’s Mum coping? I hope she doesn’t worry herself into another collapse.’

  Len snorted cheerfully, ‘Not her. Why, we had our work cut out to stop her coming with us.’

  ‘Or going with Bob,’ Mike agreed. He lifted his left hand, the one not holding my wrist that was slung around his shoulders, to glance at his watch. ‘She and Ute should be setting off about now to get hold of Tom Cleary. He’s our back-up plan. Worst case, he can stop Belligrin on the track and best case, which is what we’re aiming for, he’ll be on hand to arrest him. Thank God you got away, Charlie. It’s made everything so much easier. How did you manage it?’

  While they half carried me along, I panted out the details of my escape from the hut.

  ‘Bet that got right up his nose,’ Len remarked cheerfully. ‘What’s wrong with your neck? You look like you’re favouring it a bit.’

  ‘A touch of whiplash,’ I said. ‘He grabbed me round it when I tried to run. One of those holds the footballers get into trouble for. Actually it doesn’t hurt as much now as it did. Or maybe my ankle hurts worse. Can we stop a moment?’

  Mike glanced again at his watch while I rested my arms. ‘Is it far now?’

  ‘Other side of the gully. Time for a piggy-back, Charlie. Think you can climb up and hang on if Len gives you a lift?’

  ‘I’m too heavy for you,’ I protested.

  ‘Rubbish. Come on, ally-oop my girl. Time’s a-wasting.’

  ‘Well, just across, then.’ He half crouched and, with Len’s help, I scrambled onto his back, looping my arms about his shoulders while he grabbed my legs. ‘For Pete’s sake, don’t fall, Mike! Maybe you should leave me here?’ It cost me something to suggest it but the rocky declivity filled me with misgivings. ‘You could break a bone, or sprain something …’

  ‘It’ll be fine. I’ve wrestled calves that weigh more than you.’ He proceeded cautiously down the
slope. I tried to sit lightly and to remember not to choke him with my grip whenever a stone rolled under his boot. Len hovered nearby, a hand out to steady him until, with my heart in my mouth and a final gasp of exertion from Mike, he climbed out the far side where, behind a screen of wattle bushes, I slid to the ground again.

  Len eeled away through the scrub to return five minutes later, just as a faint hum broke through the drone of insects. Mike cocked an ear and checked his watch again.

  ‘There’s Bob, right on time.’

  ‘The joint looks deserted,’ Len reported quietly. ‘There’s nothing disturbing the birds. I reckon if we head round the slope a bit, we can get down on the blind side of the hut and wait for him there. He might be inside, of course, so we want to keep the noise down until Bob gets here. That old Rover makes enough racket for six. We can make our move when Belligrin shows himself.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mike turned to me. ‘You’ll be okay to wait here, Charlie?’

  ‘Yes.’ I chewed my lip. My stomach was churning and not at the prospect of finding myself alone again. ‘He’s got a gun, remember. You will be careful – both of you? Oh God, I’m sure we should have called the cops in. They train for this sort of thing.’

  ‘The guys with the helmets and high-powered rifles do,’ Mike said, ‘not the likes of Tom Cleary. We’ll be careful, love. You keep your head down here.’ And with a brief squeeze of my fingers and a faint rattle of stones beneath his boots, he was gone, Len by his side, the old fossicker turning to wink reassuringly at me just before they vanished into the wattle.

  I clenched my hands uselessly in my lap and sat waiting, sick with dread, for their return.

  Chapter Thirty

  The sound of the old Rover grew progressively louder. I wasn’t sure if Bob had ever actually been in the valley before. We’d spoken of the little hut to him though, so he’d know roughly what to expect. He should see the mill first, I thought, and that would tell him they were close. The hut itself was hard to spot but Eric, hopefully, would pick it out in time to pull him up. It was important that they kept as much distance as possible between themselves and Belligrin. Surely I had heard that a handgun was inaccurate at anything less than point-blank range? I prayed it was true and that Bob would know it too – and that worry for my welfare wouldn’t push him into doing something stupid.

  Inactivity was driving me mad. I tried to stand but the pain in my ankle flared into agony the moment I put the least weight on it and I subsided again, panting, biting my knuckles to still my whimpering. A willy-wagtail fluttered down to scold me and between its angry chattering and the blood thundering in my head I missed the moment when the Rover stopped. I listened hard then for the bang of a door or the sound of voices, but if either came, the slope hiding the hut from my sight must have absorbed it.

  The little black and white bird flitted from branch to branch in the wattle, continuing to scold. It must have had a nest nearby or else was defending its territory; ordinarily I’d have paid no attention, but its noise made it impossible to listen and I said irritably, ‘You’re stuck with me, birdie, so either shut up or clear out,’ and to my complete astonishment, it flew off. My eyes followed it down the gully and, by the purest chance, fell upon the one piece that had been missing from the whole puzzle, Annabelle’s handbag. It lay between the stems of a wattle thicket, a discreet affair of tan and white now soiled and dusted lightly over with debris, the rings on its straps already tarnished.

  Belligrin must have stood at the top of the gully and tossed it after he’d killed her. I craned my sore neck, wondering how I could get down there to retrieve it, then I heard the slide of a boot sole behind me and froze, staring rigidly ahead as if not reacting could prevent it from happening.

  ‘Well, well, Charlie,’ Belligrin said. ‘So here you are. Bitch! I’ve been chasing all over the country for you. How come you didn’t run?’

  ‘I broke my ankle,’ I said sullenly. Let him think I had made it no further than this. He mustn’t learn about the others, for they were my only hope now. I wished uselessly that I hadn’t insisted on accompanying Mike and Len. If I’d stayed where they’d found me … But I was here and Belligrin had his hostage back, and dear God! Bob was going to give him some fake parcel and Belligrin had his gun – he’d kill us all.

  ‘Did you now?’ Something hard nudged the back of my neck, then a hand seized my hair, hat and all. ‘Wish I’d thought of doing it for you. Up with you, then.’

  I screamed as he yanked me to my feet, but the only thing I could do was submit, for he kept up the pressure until I was wobbling on one leg, sobbing with pain, my scalp feeling as if it had been torn off.

  Belligrin eyed my swollen foot and put the gun away. ‘Convenient,’ he said. ‘Can’t walk on it, eh? Well you’re gonna have to manage because I’m not carrying you. Come on.’ He grabbed my upper arm and, scrabbling, hopping and crying, I was dragged up the slope. I tried a scream, only half-feigned, thinking to warn Mike of my plight but my captor stopped it with a slap.

  ‘Enough of that, Charlie. I’ll gag you if I have to. Got it?’

  I nodded dumbly, my face on fire, and he yanked me forward again. ‘Come on. A bit of a wait’ll keep him worried but we don’t want him leaving, do we? You wouldn’t like that at all.’

  The first thing I saw when we came clear of the gully scrub was the old Land Rover parked a short distance away from the hut. The next was Bob turning back from the doorway. He was in jeans and dusty boots, and the usual flannel overshirt he wore in cold weather, open now for the afternoon was warm in the sheltered valley. Hands on his hips, he stared around, a look of puzzled alarm on his face.

  ‘Nothin’ and nobody,’ he said loudly. He appeared to be alone; I couldn’t see Eric and I wondered if he’d dropped him off down the track to serve as back-up.

  ‘Bastard!’ he yelled suddenly. ‘Where are yer? I’m here. We had a deal, so come on out an’ make it.’

  ‘In good time, old man,’ Belligrin called, yanking me forward and reaching for the gun as Bob spun around. He showed him the weapon. ‘Easy now. You brought what I want?’

  Bob ignored the question and started towards me. ‘Charlie! You okay? What’s the mongrel done to you?’

  ‘I’m okay, Bob.’ I gritted my teeth, wobbling where I stood. ‘Don’t annoy him. Just give him the stuff.’ I dared not look at the hut but I tried cutting my eyes sideways at it to indicate Mike’s presence; however, my frantic signalling was lost in Bob’s sudden surge of fury as he took in my ravaged state and charged towards me.

  ‘He’s hurt yer!’ he roared. ‘I’ll kill the bastard!’

  ‘No!’ I cried frantically. ‘I’m okay, Bob. Really! Don’t —’

  The roar of the gun froze the words in my mouth. I actually saw a spark leap from the stones a metre to the side of Bob. He stopped as if he’d run into the bullet and Belligrin said tautly, ‘The next one won’t miss, grandpa.’ And then, in quite a different tone that combined surprise with menace, he said, ‘What’s this? I told you to come alone.’

  I suppose it had been too much to expect that Eric, crammed into the footwell of the Rover, would ignore the shot, and the vehicle door had sprung open as he leapt instinctively to his partner’s defence – though what he thought he could do with a jack handle at that distance was beyond me. My heart sank as the gun rose again, this time aimed not at Eric, but me.

  ‘Drop it or I’ll put one in the girl.’ Belligrin’s ugly tone left no room for doubt and Eric obeyed instantly, casting the steel from him as if it were red-hot.

  ‘Good, now if there’s no more of you wanting to be heroes, bring me my package. And don’t move a whisker, grandpa,’ he added for Bob’s benefit. ‘When I’m satisfied you haven’t pulled anything you can tie each other up – unless I decide to shoot you instead. That’d be easier. Either way, Charlie’s coming with me. I’m thinking somebody as stupid as you obviously are just might have been dumb enough to call the cops.’

  ‘No cop
s,’ Bob said. ‘All right, give it to ’im, Eric, but leave the girl. Take me instead.’

  ‘I think not. A broken ankle makes her nice and biddable, which I’m betting you aren’t, grandpa. Am I right, Charlie?’

  Through stiff lips I said, ‘He’s old. Please don’t hurt him.’ All hell was going to break loose the moment Belligrin opened the package Eric was bringing towards him. It looked realistic enough: whatever the contents were, they’d been placed in a plastic bag that was well sealed with tape – the broad, extra-sticky type that called for scissors or a sharp knife. I guessed it was a deliberate ploy to delay its opening, but it would only buy us a moment or two at best.

  Then Eric stumbled. It looked so natural that it had me fooled, but not Belligrin. The parcel shot from his hands as he fell and landed half a metre to the side of its intended recipient, who made no move to retrieve it. Eric had both palms flat on the soil ready to spring but Belligrin had failed to follow the script that called for his temporary distraction. Instead, feet firmly planted, he waggled the gun, saying coldly, ‘Get up. You just earned yourself a bullet. Now pick the parcel up – carefully, mind – and hand it to me. Then get over beside the old guy.’ He glanced down at the tightly sealed package he now held and nodded to himself.

  ‘Trust that little bitch. Right, now listen carefully, Charlie. You’re gonna reach into my pocket and get my knife out, then open the blade for me. Nice and slow. No sudden moves because up this close I’m not gonna miss grandpa or his mate. Got it?’

  I nodded dumbly, wet my lips and put a shake in my voice as I asked, ‘Which pocket?’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he said with a smirk, ‘sense at last. Left hand, vest.’

  I looked at Bob and raised a trembling hand to the pocket in question. Belligrin was wearing a sleeveless vest of lightly padded cotton, one that zipped up the front. It hung open at present, which put the pocket at an angle to my hand. I’d been standing so long on my good leg that it was shaking with weariness and I didn’t have to feign my sudden loss of balance. I clutched at Belligrin to prevent myself falling.