Croc Country

by Kerry McGinnis

  It was the work of a moment to thrust the piece into the stem beside the valve and she was immediately gratified by the faint hiss of escaping air. It would take a while, hours maybe, but the tyre would go flat. ‘And we’ll see how you handle that, you sick bastard,’ she muttered, wrenching the second strap through its buckle.

  Back in the vehicle, Matt retained both the water and her shoes. He drank thirstily from the mouth of the bag, wiping away the spillage with his thumb. Hating to ask, Tilly did, knowing her body needed it. ‘May I have some? I’m thirsty.’

  ‘Too bad.’ He settled the bag at his feet, where her shoes also rested. ‘Drive. Maybe you can earn it by behavin’ yourself.’

  Soon enough they reached the road. She braked in feigned amazement at sight of the raw red ribbon of track and turned to stare at her captor. ‘What’s that? It looks new.’

  ‘Drive,’ he muttered irritably, and as she deliberately swung the wheel north-east, ‘The other way! For Chrissake, haven’t you learnt nothin’? You can’t be that bloody dumb.’

  Tilly allowed herself a burst of frustration. ‘Well, I don’t know where I am, or where I’m going!’ She slammed the gear lever into reverse and backed up, turning the wheel to the right as they started off again. ‘I’ve never even seen this road before. Where does it go?’

  ‘Zip it, woman. Just drive.’ He was sweating worse than ever and his sun-splotched face looked flushed as if he had started a fever.

  She said maliciously, ‘You ought to check your foot. If it’s swelling and turning blue, the blood supply might be interrupted. That causes gangrene. Displaced bones can do that, you know – block arteries. And I’m willing to bet your patella’s not where it should be.’

  He bared his teeth at her. ‘Yeah, and I haven’t forgotten who done it, neither.’

  The threat inherent in his words silenced her and for a craven moment Tilly wished the taunt unsaid. She drew in a breath but held her peace; there was no point in trying him too far. She tried to calculate how far they had come. He’d said ninety kilometres, which, she presumed, would include the stretch from the cave to the new road. It must have taken a good hour to get that far, but the speedometer wouldn’t have reached fifteen km/h on much of it, and she was only doing forty now. The track might be graded but it was a very cursory affair, more a clearing of bushes, anthills and fallen timber than a real grade. Still, it was clearly a boon to the smugglers, giving them egress from the property in a direction from which they couldn’t be overlooked.

  Curiosity overcame her and she said, ‘How come we don’t patrol this area? When it was a station, didn’t the owners run stock out here? How did they manage during the round-ups without roads?’

  He cast her a look of contempt. ‘You a Yank? They’re musters, not round-ups. And the country weren’t used, because there ain’t no water out here. You can think on that when you’re hoofin’ it home.’

  She persevered, ignoring the comment, for any knowledge might help her in the fight for survival. ‘So why didn’t they make some? A bore, or a dam? It’s a lot of country to waste.’

  ‘Shut it,’ he snapped. ‘I dunno and I don’t bloody care. What’s it to you anyway?’

  ‘I like to know the reason for things.’ Tilly’s voice hardened. ‘For instance, why Gerry? He wasn’t a bad man. How did you drag him into all this?’

  ‘Not a bad man,’ Matt mocked. ‘Just weak. Gamblin’ debts piled so high a buck roo couldn’t clear ’em. And a greedy wife. You had to have the flash home, didn’t you, all the fancy stuff? You think you get boat payments, a mortgage ’n’ a couple of cars ’n’ a kid outta fishin’?’

  Tilly went cold, then flashed to instant heat. ‘The house was his doing, not mine! He said we could afford it. He said—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Nothin’ the turn of another card couldn’t fix. Then he’s desperate, into the syndicates for big dough ’n’ cryin’ poor. A bit of dope, a few birds, no problem – I tell you,’ Matt said viciously, ‘he woulda killed without a blink if it’d got him outta the jam he was in.’

  ‘No,’ Tilly said weakly. ‘You’re lying! I know you are. He would never touch drugs.’

  ‘I suppose he’s too good for people smugglin’ too?’ Matt sneered. ‘You can tell that to the fishes. I doubt they’ll believe you, but.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her heart knocked unevenly and she felt sick. ‘You said back in the cave . . . What did you mean about the “boatload of reffos” being on him too? You weren’t smuggling people too?’

  He gave a savage grin. ‘Ain’t smugglin’ if they never got there. Still, they paid up front ’n’ this country don’t need no more Muslims, that’s for damn sure.’

  ‘You’re despicable!’ The wheel pulled sharply under her hand and she straightened it. The tyre was flattening. Excellent. She’d run it for another kilometre, or until he noticed, let the rims chew the tube to pieces. Of course there’d be a spare, but changing it might give her a chance.

  Tilly had no plan save to get beyond his reach. She would walk, barefoot if she must, following the road back and if, as she prayed, they had not yet passed Connor, he would catch up with her at day’s end, which wasn’t so very far off, she now realised. She had hardly noticed the afternoon passing; they had come perhaps thirty kay on the new track. That wasn’t so far, Tilly told herself, quailing at the thought, and walking would warm her. The chill in the air had crept up on her unnoticed, hardly registering until now. Well, better beneath the night sky than a hot sun that would only exacerbate her thirst.

  Then the wheel dragged again, the metronomic flap of torn rubber rising above the engine noise, and Matt swore. ‘Jesus! Pull up, you stupid cow. You’ve got a flat.’

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Before the wheels stopped rolling, Tilly’s right hand flashed down to the door handle but Matt was quicker. His big freckled fist seized her hair, yanking her over the gear lever towards him. ‘Not so bloody fast.’

  Tilly shrieked in pain, clawing at the wheel for purchase and inadvertently sounding a long blast on the horn. Instantly she banged her inner forearm down again, repeating the blast until he ripped her hand free of its grip. ‘Let me go!’ Tears stood in her eyes from the pain of it.

  ‘You’re comin’ out this side,’ he said, ‘nice ’n’ slow. And don’t be thinkin’ of boltin’, neither.’ One-handed, he pulled the belt from around his waist and, releasing the grip on her hair, threaded the loop over her wrist. ‘Right.’ He gave it an experimental tug and showed her the knife. ‘This way with you.’ With a great deal of swearing and hissed breath, he got himself out and, standing on his good leg, hauled her after him. Sweat stood on his forehead and for a wild moment Tilly contemplated shoving him over and running for it, but the vehicle’s frame supported him and she feared his strength. The buckle of the belt was cutting cruelly into her wrist; he had only to yank on it to have her helpless at his feet.

  ‘Under the seat. Jack ’n’ the tools, and rope. Get ’em.’

  Tilly obeyed, wondering what the rope was for. She found out when he made a noose with it and slipped it over her head before reclaiming his belt. He gave the thin nylon cord a tug. ‘You’ve got the idea. Slide the jack under ’n’ get the brace on the lugs.’ Dragging his bad leg, he hauled himself around the vehicle, keeping up the pressure on the rope as she followed his instructions, her hopes of freedom dashed. He kept the noose tight enough to prevent her yanking it free, and she feared his reaction if she dared escape and failed. Would he tie her up, or simply throttle her into submission? She clung to the hope that he still needed her, for his leg hung like a dead limb and the slightest movement brought a curse to his lips.

  In the gathering darkness, he wrenched at the wheel lugs, teeth bared with effort, and eventually made her jump on the brace to loosen them. Tilly spun it out, deliberately losing her balance to slow the process for the onset of night gave her hope. If she could grab a tool, the jack-handle say . . . but he was too careful for that. Once th
e lugs were loosened, he made her lie down behind the wheel, then made his own careful descent beside her, the rope doubled around his fist as he laboriously wound the handle, raising the tyre.

  Job completed, he lay panting, his eyes momentarily screwed shut. Tilly’s hand crept towards the noose as she inched her head closer to his body to gain what slack she could, but as if her held breath had warned him, his eyes snapped open just as a voice called, ‘Stay where you are, Mercer,’ and a torch beam split the darkness around them.

  Tilly gasped, recognising Connor’s voice, but Matt’s reflexes were lightning fast. Before she could move, he had rolled his body on top of hers and his hands were at her throat. She struggled furiously, trying to cry out but she got no further than ‘Con—’ before the strangling rope cut her off.

  ‘Back off, Doyle!’ The words were snarled almost into her ear as they lay in a quasi-sexual embrace, his weight pinning her top half. She was choking, her lungs starving for the air that came in minuscule sips through her tortured throat. ‘Get that bloody light outta my face,’ Matt yelled. ‘Put it on ’ers. See that? Want me to yank it tighter? Back off or I will.’

  Light speckled her vision and Tilly felt herself fading into blackness. She had to make one last effort before it was too late. Matt seemed to have forgotten the knife, which he had laid aside in order to wind the jack. She had no idea where it was, and neither the time nor strength to find it. Instead, she put everything she had left in her into a blind kick aimed at her captor’s legs and by the sheerest fluke connected with his broken knee.

  Matt screamed and jerked backwards, rolling off her. His body shrank into a fetal curl as Tilly tore the strangling rope loose and threw herself violently out from beneath the vehicle, smacking her head in the process. She scarcely felt the pain as she scrambled to her feet and was caught in Connor’s grasp. His arms tightened around her, his hand frantically smoothing her back. ‘Oh God, Tilly! Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes . . . no. Gerry’s dead. Matt killed him. And Luke’s hurt – back in the cave. I couldn’t—’ She felt hysteria closing in and drew a great lungful of air in an effort to calm the trembling of her limbs. Pushing back from his clasp, she said, ‘We have to get help to him, Connor. He—’

  ‘Yes, and we will. But first . . .’ He bent and grabbed Matt’s boot, dragging him from under the vehicle.

  ‘He’s got a knife,’ Tilly remembered, ‘and I bashed his other knee – it’s broken. He phoned his mates. They were going to meet him at the end of the road.’ Matt snarled and aimed a punch at Connor, which he avoided before rolling Matt deftly onto his face and, using the choke cord Tilly had cast off, securing his hands.

  ‘Where this knife then?’

  ‘There!’ The torchlight showed a glint of steel. Connor secured it, then played the light over the back of the vehicle.

  ‘Room for him in there?’

  ‘It’s full of cages, birds, maybe reptiles too. Shouldn’t we let them go?’

  He shook his head. ‘They’re evidence. You said he phoned.’

  She explained about the satellite phone. ‘It’s under the driver’s seat. We’ve got to ring Sophie, tell her about Luke. He might’ve come round, but he’ll have concussion at the very least. She can reach him faster than we can.’

  ‘I’ll see to it. But first . . .’ Lifting the end of the rope he’d used to tie up Matt, he took a couple of turns about the Land Rover’s tow-ball and knotted it securely. ‘That should do it.’

  ‘Bastard copper! You think you’re so smart, but I was onto you from the start.’

  ‘Hasn’t done you much good then,’ Connor retorted. He put an arm around Tilly’s shoulders. ‘Come on, love, let’s make some calls. Oh,’ he added, turning back to the tied figure hunched by the tow-ball, ‘and it was me who found your stash in the river. In case you’re wondering.’

  Matt spat a string of filthy language at him as they retreated into the dark.

  ‘Where’s your vehicle?’ Tilly asked.

  ‘Fifty metres or so, up a ways. I was about ready to quit when I heard you coming, then you stopped. Next thing, the horn was blasting away so I came running. What, in the name of God, were you doing back at the cave? I take it you and Luke ran into them there? Why did he kill Gerry?’

  ‘It was meant to be me, but Gerry threw himself in the way.’ She shuddered at the memory, then pulled the phone out, handed it to him and flicked the dome light on.

  ‘Oh, God!’ He stared at her, face stricken in the sickly yellow light, and reached to touch her maltreated throat. ‘You nearly died while I was twiddling my thumbs in the scrub. I should never have involved you.’

  ‘You didn’t,’ she pointed out. ‘It just happened. Now, please call Sophie. I’m really worried about Luke.’

  He complied. There was a long, anxious wait until the distant ringing stopped and the dial tone resumed. ‘No answer. All right, we’ll have to go ourselves. But I need to let Sergeant Burns know about Mercer’s mates. He can follow the lot who are coming to meet Mercer. I’ll get a message to Spadgers Creek and have Des come through and collect our prisoner. We’ll head for the cave, and should make it back to the homestead before he arrives.’ He rubbed at his jaw. ‘It’ll take bloody forever for the other lot to get out from town, that’s the trouble. Time enough for those involved to do a bunk when Mercer doesn’t turn up. How sure are you about Luke’s condition? Not all bangs on the head are fatal, you know.’

  ‘And none should be ignored.’ Tilly said spiritedly. ‘I’ve done first aid, Connor, and he was hit really hard. He was slumped on the ground, bleeding from the temple, then he pitched over and didn’t move again. Oh, God,’ she fretted. ‘Where’s Sophie? Why isn’t she answering the phone?’

  ‘It’s okay,’ he soothed her. ‘We’ll go.’ He pressed more buttons, held a brief conversation, shut off the phone and swore. ‘Jesus Christ! Is the whole world agin us? Burns and Wilmot left town hours ago. Heading out here according to the front desk.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

  He swore again. ‘No, because I can’t get hold of them and I don’t know who else among the cops I can trust. I’m not even one hundred per cent sure of the inspector.’

  ‘Ring the Alloway Roadhouse,’ Tilly said practically. ‘If they haven’t got that far, you could leave a message. If they have – well, at least they’re that much closer.’

  He did so, and after a short conversation, his face cleared. ‘Put him on, will you? Thanks. Ah, Wayne. I’ve a situation here . . .’

  Tilly listened to his rapid outline of events and instructions, finishing up with, ‘Great, we’ll head straight back. Should be at the homestead by the time you arrive. See you then.’ He sighed in relief and hung up the phone. ‘He’s got my number and can ring if there’s a problem. Look, could you drive this crate back, do you think?’

  ‘Not with a flat tyre,’ Tilly pointed out. ‘It’s not punctured, or at least it wasn’t till I ran it flat. I fiddled with the valve, you see. I wanted to get him out of the vehicle. I thought it was my best chance.’

  ‘You’re a living wonder, Tilly.’ He kissed her. ‘And I see it’s already on the jack. It’ll only take a moment to change. Hang on here and I’ll bring my vehicle over. It’ll be easier with the headlights than a torch.’

  With the second vehicle in position and lights to work by, Connor swiftly swapped tyres, having first shifted Matt by securing his tied hands to the side rail.

  ‘You’d be better off puttin’ some distance between us, copper,’ Matt sneered. ‘My mates are comin’ for me. Fancy your chances against four of ’em, do you? Yours wouldn’t be the first body dumped out ’ere.’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ll find the sergeant and his constable practised at dealing with scum,’ Connor said. ‘Plus the copper from Spadgers of course. None of ’em like killers. And I’m Customs by the way, not police.’

  Tilly, handing him the last wheel nut, said, ‘Where was Burns when you were speaking to Wilm
ot?’

  ‘In the gents. Dead lucky we caught them. Wayne said they’d be underway soon as he got out.’ Connor wound the jack down and dismantled the handle. ‘Right. You sure you’ll be okay?’ he asked and when she made no reply, ‘Tilly?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes.’ Distracted by the twisted buckle on the tool roll, she nodded. ‘Of course. Besides we can’t leave those poor animals without water or food. Do you want to lead?’

  ‘If you like.’ He untied the rope and nudged his captive. ‘Get in the Toyota. Not the front,’ he said as the man hopped, teeth bared with effort as he hauled himself along the vehicle’s body. ‘Am I stupid? Round the back. Sit with your back to the passenger seat.’ Mercer obeyed meekly enough, saying nothing even when Connor lashed his tied hands to the headrest.

  The fight seemed to have gone out of him, or perhaps the pain was too great, Tilly thought. Still, his easy compliance made her narrow her eyes, and when Connor slammed the rear door, she beckoned him to one side. ‘I don’t trust him – he’s up to something.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Connor said. ‘Besides, he’s crippled. You really did a number on his knee. And I’m a seaman of sorts, love. I know how to tie a decent knot.’

  ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful,’ she begged.

  ‘It’s sweet of you to worry.’ He kissed her. ‘Follow as close as you can. I’ll see what speed I can make, and we’ll head for the caves. Sophie might even be there now, you know. She knew where you were going?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then ten to one she got worried when you didn’t return and headed out after you.’

  It was a reasonable hypothesis that Tilly was glad to adopt. ‘Yes, she could well have done so. It would explain why the phone rang out. And if the professor turned up, she might’ve taken him along, so there’d be two of them to carry Luke. Let’s hope you’re right – it would be such a relief.’