‘And worse,’ Tilly said. ‘Drugs and people smuggling too, only that seems to have failed because the boat sank and they all drowned.’ She ground her teeth. ‘Matt said they’d paid upfront and the country didn’t need any more damn Muslims anyway. I broke his kneecap while he was trying to kill me,’ she added matter-of-factly.
‘Go, girl!’ A wide grin split Sophie’s face. ‘Elaine would be proud of you. I’m proud of you. So where is he now? He didn’t get away?’
‘No. We left him in the cave, tied up. When the tyre went flat, Connor turned up and helped me.’ Her hand went unbidden to her throat as she relived that deadly struggle and her fight for air. ‘So we came back thinking you might’ve come out to the cave, only you’d already gone, and that’s when I realised that Constable Wilmot must be a crook too. It’s why we didn’t want you at the homestead – because he’s on his way there now.’ In a few rapid strokes she outlined the results of the Alloway phonecalls. ‘It means the rest of the gang will probably get away, but Matt can be charged with Gerry’s murder, and, if he’s done no worse to the sergeant, Wilmot for complicity in the business and assault on a policeman. That’s why Connor was so pleased that this cop’—she moved her head to indicate where the two voices murmured outside the tent—‘is from Katherine. He must be clean. And the one at Spadgers Creek is coming too.’
‘Good Lord,’ Thomas said reverently into the silence that fell after she finished speaking. ‘Does this sort of thing go on all the time?’
‘Thankfully, no.’ Sophie had turned to another problem. ‘I suppose we’ll have to lend him a vehicle.’ Catching Tilly’s blank look, she said, ‘The cop – how else will he get the body away, or his prisoner?’
‘Maybe Connor – I mean, he’s part of it. Or he could call in reinforcements. He’s appropriated Matt’s satellite phone.’
‘He had a satellite phone?’ Her cousin sounded scandalised. ‘Well, I hope Connor runs up a decent bill on his account. Those things cost the bloody earth.’
‘They . . . Ssh, listen!’ Tilly cocked her head. ‘There’s a vehicle coming. Oh, God, what if it’s Wilmot? I must warn Connor.’ She darted out only to find that he had heard the sound too.
‘It’s okay. It’ll be Des.’
‘How can you be certain? Wilmot—’
‘The man hasn’t got wings,’ he said patiently. ‘He was at Alloway. No way he’s here yet.’
‘Oh.’ It was at least a three-hour drive from there, and some of the tension left her. ‘I’ve told the others everything. So what next?’
‘Keith, here, and I have been making plans. I’ve suggested he and Des collect Mercer and take him on to Alloway. I’ll ring the RFDS to alert them, and when the doctor arrives, the two can accompany him to Darwin. Along with the body.’
‘But you said it had to stay—’
Connor grimaced. ‘Ideally, but with the heat in that cave, it’s probably a better idea to shift it now. Another day . . .’ He trailed off and Tilly shut her mind to what remained unsaid. ‘Besides,’ he continued then, ‘any evidence must’ve been tramped away with the number of bodies that’ve been in and out of the joint since.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Turning to the young policeman, she said, ‘How will you find the cave?’
‘Connor’s drawn me a pretty good mud map.’
‘And if you should run into Wilmot on the road out?’
‘Not gonna happen,’ Connor put in. ‘You can bet Wilmot will come the shortest way, so they’ll take the coastal track instead. Des knows it – he’ll be on it before Wilmot gets here.’ Headlights flashed through the timber as he spoke, and when the vehicle purred gently into the camp, he leant in to activate his own lights, switching them on and off again.
Tilly watched quietly as a chunkily built stranger alighted from the vehicle. He was wearing typical stationhand clothes of felt hat, jeans, boots and a sheepskin-lined jacket pulled over a checked flannel shirt. He nodded at Tilly and said, ‘G’day, Connor. What’s going on?’
‘Got a job for you. This’—he tipped his head at the young uniformed constable—‘is Keith. He’s clean, from Katherine. We’ve got a prisoner to transport and a body. Keith’s got the details, and he’ll fill you in because you need to get started. Wilmot’s dirty and he’s on his way here, we think, to rescue the prisoner who’s been injured. So you’ve got to get him away. Use the coast road, and I’ll have the flying doctor waiting for you at Alloway. There’s a good chance that David Burns is there, either dead or incapacitated. Mercer’s tied up with a bust leg. He’s responsible for the body. It’s Gerry Hillyer, by the way. Shot at point-blank range.’
Des appeared to absorb the information much like a sponge, Tilly thought. He asked only one question. ‘What’ll you be doing?’
‘Dealing with Wilmot,’ Connor said tersely. ‘He and Burns were at Alloway when I rang them. But the owner said Wilmot left alone because Burns had vanished. Seems to me to be the place to start inquiring after him.’
‘I’ll get onto it. Okay. Glad to meet you, Keith.’ He leant across to shake hands. ‘You got the location of the prisoner? Good. Let’s go then.’
Chapter Thirty-seven
Watching them leave, Tilly said, ‘He seems very capable.’
‘Yeah.’ Connor was fishing out Matt’s phone again. ‘A good man. He’s done a lot of undercover work. Suits him because he’s one of those blokes whose appearance doesn’t shriek “cop”.’
‘Who are you ringing?’
‘The RFDS base. The doctor’ll be sick of us. I’ll just alert them that we’ll need a pick-up at Alloway in about . . .’ He held his watchface towards the faint light from the tent. ‘It’s midnight now. Say four am. That ought to give them enough time.’
‘And it means you have no backup,’ Tilly said anxiously. ‘So how exactly do you plan on “dealing with” Wilmot? Don’t Territory cops carry guns?’
‘I think all cops do these days.’
‘Don’t dodge the question,’ she said sharply. ‘I don’t want to be humoured, Connor. What do you plan to do? You’re not armed, so what happens if he decides to kill you?’
‘He won’t, love. What would be the point? When he learns Mercer’s been arrested and is out of reach, along with the body of the man he killed, I imagine he’ll run for it. Especially if, as I fear, he’s already done for Burns.’
‘And you won’t try to stop him?’
‘Not if he’s waving a gun at me,’ Connor said. ‘I’m not an idiot. Anyway if Burns is dead, the police won’t stop till they’ve hunted him down.’
‘So the rest – the ones Matt organised to meet him – will get away too?’
‘Can’t be helped.’ Connor shrugged. ‘Look, in an ideal world we’d catch all the villains, but crime would still go on. Now, you should try and get some rest, love. You must be exhausted.’
‘While you do what?’
He exhaled patiently. ‘I thought I’d poke down to the homestead. Wait for him there. It’s what we arranged on the phone. Don’t worry – I won’t let on that we’ve rumbled him. I’ll just tell him the doctor picked up Mercer too, when he came for Luke.’
It wasn’t a bad plan, Tilly thought. Wilmot would be free to leave, but that was a small price if it kept Connor safe. ‘Okay, that should work. But it would be better if we were there too, Sophie and the professor and me. He might get suspicious if you’re all alone in an empty house. And the presence of witnesses should stop him doing anything stupid, like killing you.’ Unless he decides to kill us all. She didn’t say it.
He sighed, head tipped to one side. ‘Are you always this managing?’
‘It makes sense,’ Tilly said stubbornly, ‘and you know it lessens the risk. Anyway, I’m going if I have to walk.’
He gave in. ‘All right. Get the others. We’ll leave the Land Rover here for now.’ He checked his watch again. ‘Another hour, hour and a half till he arrives, I reckon. We could even catch a bit of sleep.’
It was the last thing on Tilly’s
mind, but curled up on the lounge – she had refused to go to bed – with only the kitchen light on and Thomas Leary’s hearty snores issuing from the spare bedroom, she finally dozed off, falling straight into a dream of pounding rain and crashing thunder. It was the Wet, she realised, the dark night hot and damp and full of menace. The mighty McArthur River had broken its banks and the rising water now threatened the fishing camp. Intermittent flashes of lightning lit the tin-walled room as she splashed through ankle-deep water towards the cot where Francie cowered, her face tear-streaked, little hands clamped over her ears.
‘I don’t like it, Mummy! I don’t like it,’ she sobbed as Tilly scooped her up.
‘Hush, it’s all right, darling,’ Tilly soothed her as the child’s arms snaked around her neck. She turned to the door, but the water was suddenly waist deep and Gerry stood there with the blood blooming over his heart and his blank eyes staring.
‘Sorry, babe,’ he said and slid bonelessly into the flood just as a huge crocodile surged towards them.
Tilly screamed, twisting away and bending protectively over the child as the monster lunged at her unguarded back. She felt the buffet of the water and glanced fearfully back, but it was Gerry who stood there now with his dead blank eyes and greenish scaly skin, wresting the screaming child from her arms. ‘No!’ She hit out at him and felt her fist connect, but he slipped away as she lunged furiously after him. ‘No! Give her back to me! I won’t let you take her!’ But he and Francie had vanished and only mud remained. Her heart broke afresh and she wailed her loss as urgent hands shook her.
‘Wake up, Tilly! Wake up, it’s a dream. Only a dream, dear heart.’ Connor was cradling her to his chest as she shuddered awake. ‘What is it?’ he asked tenderly. ‘You were dreaming and crying in your sleep.’
‘Oh.’ She sat up, shuddering, and palmed her damp cheeks dry. ‘An old nightmare about losing Francie. But different. I suppose it was seeing Gerry today – yesterday? He was dead in my dream, but he still took her.’ She drew a deep breath, memory touching her. ‘I felt myself hit something – that wasn’t you, was it?’
‘Yeah.’ He rubbed his chest and grinned wryly. ‘For a little ’un you pack a mean punch.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Then reality returned with a rush. ‘What time is it? Why hasn’t Wilmot come?’ But even as she spoke, the faintest tremor in the air stilled her breath. ‘Do you hear that?’
‘Sounds like him now.’ Connor stood up. ‘Why don’t you put the kettle on?’
‘You’re not offering him a cup of tea?’ she said incredulously. ‘He might be a murderer, Connor!’
‘He won’t accept,’ he replied, ‘and it’s cover for your presence to explain being up at this hour.’ He lifted his wrist to glance at his watch. ‘It’s after three, Tilly. So you woke, saw I was still up, and your tender heart got the better of you so you came out to make me a coffee.’
‘Yes.’ Tilly jumped up, caught sight of her clothes and whirled to the door. ‘I’ll put a robe on and some slippers. You light the gas, he’ll be here any minute.’ The snores in the bedroom stopped suddenly and springs creaked as though the professor had rolled over, before they began again in a deeper register. Sophie’s room was quiet as Tilly feverishly pulled the scrunchy from her hair and dragged her dressing gown on over her clothes. The vehicle pulled up before the homestead, and she hurried back to the kitchen in time to catch the kettle as it began to whistle.
She heard Connor cross to the door and the faint squeak of its hinges. He said something, a mumble, then his words came more clearly as he turned back, ‘Come on in, then. Though I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey.’
‘What do you mean?’ Peeping round the opened fridge door, Tilly saw Wilmot stop in his tracks. He looked tired and tense, stubble shadowed his lower face and his eyes had narrowed suspiciously.
Connor seemed oblivious to his reaction. ‘Where’s Burns? I thought he was with you.’
‘Left him at Alloway.’ Catching sight of Tilly, he said abruptly, ‘G’day. Up late, aren’t you?’
Caught off guard, she opened her mouth to answer, but Connor spoke first and she busied herself sweeping together the sauce, pepper and salt canisters, and sugar holder left out on the bench top. Sophie never put stuff away after herself.
‘Why?’ Connor said. ‘I mean, it doesn’t matter as it’s turned out but—’
‘Dysentery. He’s stuck in the Gents for the duration, I reckon. Come on him sudden like. Then you ring like the house is on fire, so we reckoned I’d better just head over.’ He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes and shook his head. ‘And now you’re telling me – what exactly?’
‘Look, I’m sorry. Sit down, Wayne. You’ve had the trip for nothing. If I could’ve got hold of you, mate, to stop you, I would’ve, believe me. Tilly’s just making me a coffee. She took pity on me pulling an all-nighter, and I reckon you could use one too. Thing is, when I realised the flying doctor had been called out for young Luke, and he had a copper on board as well, on account of the body Sophie found with Luke – well, it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. Mercer needed medical attention, and the plane had room for two stretchers, so . . .’ He shrugged, accepting the cup Tilly brought him with a nod of thanks.
‘What will you have, officer?’ she asked.
He waved her off, saying blankly, ‘What copper? And why – was Mercer hurt?’
‘Broken leg,’ Connor replied cheerfully. ‘He’ll be tucked up in hospital with a guard on the door long since. And slapped with a first-degree murder charge among the rest – drug-running, wildlife trafficking, people smuggling . . . He admitted to that one in front of witnesses. And he kidnapped and assaulted Tilly here, so that’s on his sheet as well. With the amount of time he’s facing, I’m betting he’ll talk and we’ll roll up the rest of the gang, so wasted journey apart, it’s been a good night’s work. And the blokes on the new road – you organised a reception committee for them, I take it?’
‘Yeah – well, Burns said he’d see to that. When he could get out of the bog, that is.’ Wilmot rubbed his face. ‘Sorry, I’m too bushed to take it all in at one sitting. How did you call the roadhouse from this new track you were talking about? Just curious about that.’
‘Mercer’s phone. Sat job. It’s been damn handy, I can tell you. Pity they don’t give cops the same. Sure you won’t have that coffee? You look all in.’
‘I’m fine,’ Wilmot said tersely. He sucked his teeth, obviously thinking. ‘Right. Reckon I’ll head down the road a bit and have a camp, then get going again and pick up the sarge. I’d better take that phone in. It’s evidence. The tech boys might be able to figure out who Mercer was contacting. Where is it?’
Connor sat unmoving, as Tilly’s gaze flew to the object in question. ‘I thought I’d hang onto it for a bit. The constable escorting Mercer has the number. He’ll be calling me with an update any time soon.’
Wilmot’s voice hardened. ‘He can call you here, can’t he? It’s evidence. Look, we appreciate all that Customs has done in the case, but basically it’s a police matter, so I’m afraid you’ll have to hand it over.’
So he could dispose of it, Tilly thought, or at least anything incriminating that it contained. She squeezed her fingers together, hoping that Connor would refuse, then the matter was taken out of his hands as the instrument in question gave its warbling call. Wilmot was startled, but cottoned on fast. He took two strides and grabbed it off the counter, pressing a couple of buttons. ‘Yep?’
Des’s voice broke into the room. ‘Connor? Des here. Christ, we just found Burns! The bastard cut his throat and dropped him in the service pit in the shed.’ His agitated voice bounced around the room. Wilmot, obviously unfamiliar with the phone’s workings, had put it on speaker. Des never paused, the words tumbling over each other. ‘He must’ve planned on being long gone before the body was discovered. If he turns up there, you’ve gotta stop him. I—’
The words cut off as suddenly as they’d beg
un. Wilmot dropped the handpiece and reached for his weapon. ‘Right.’ His voice was suddenly no longer weary, but cold and hard. ‘That was unfortunate – or maybe not.’ He aimed the gun at Connor. ‘You’ve been playing me for a fool, Doyle? Who’s this Des then, and where’d he call from?’
‘He’s an undercover cop, and the call was from the roadhouse at Alloway.’ Connor replied readily. ‘Best give it up, Wilmot – you won’t spin your way out of this. He knows you’re involved, that you’ve killed one of your own. You know cops. You don’t walk away from that. They’ll hunt you down, however long it takes.’
He sounded amazingly calm, Tilly thought, caught between fury and terror. She had told him this would happen.
‘That being so I’ve got nothing to lose.’
Her blood turned to ice at Wilmot’s reply. Her hand had closed convulsively over the pepper canister when the phone rang, and now she slid it into the pocket of her robe. It wasn’t much but if she could get close enough . . . She swept the sauce bottle onto the floor and shouted, ‘No!’
The policeman had plainly forgotten her presence. He jumped, then swung the barrel sideways in a beckoning motion. ‘You! Shut your mouth and get over here.’ She came around the counter’s end and his face reddened with anger as he took in the jeans below the hem of the robe. ‘A set-up,’ he snarled, grabbing her arm and yanking her towards him. Connor yelled something, and then everything happened at once as a deafening racket, akin to a jet engine firing, broke out on the verandah.
Tilly’s free hand had been working at the canister in her pocket. Wilmot, momentarily distracted by the earth-shattering roar behind him, had loosened his grip. She tore herself free, held her breath and, scooping up a handful of loose pepper, flung it into his face.
Yelling ‘Gah!’ he reeled back and fired blindly. She felt the hot gases of the explosion on her neck, then Connor’s terrified roar of ‘Tilly!’ that penetrated even the sudden deafness caused by the shot as he launched himself at the staggering Wilmot. Both men crashed to the floor just as the door opened and Sophie appeared, wild-eyed and pyjama-clad, holding a roaring chainsaw in both hands.
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