by Chris Ryan
Alex was fast asleep, but Hex was still awake. He saw Amber looking at the cave wall. ‘What is it?’ he whispered.
‘Tommy’s left us a drawing.’
Hex got up and padded over. Amber was looking at a crude outline in white on the brown of the cave wall. It showed a white disc surrounded by flames. Elongated stick figures stood in the centre.
‘It’s his spirit ancestor,’ she said. ‘To protect us.’
23
THE HUNT
The horses clattered into a concrete yard, their hooves echoing around the buildings. Lights came on, triggered by the movement. They revealed a quadrangle of farm buildings, burnt out and still smouldering.
‘Looks like this is the place,’ said Paulo. ‘What a mess.’
Li and Holly slid quietly off the horses. ‘Someone’s noticed us arrive,’ said Li.
A figure emerged from the house and ran towards them. A female voice called out, ‘Goldie? Tess? Oh my God!’
‘They’re here and they’re safe,’ replied Paulo.
‘How did you find them?’ The horses greeted her with nuzzles and whickers.
‘Our truck broke down and we found them loose in the outback,’ said Paulo.
A man ran out of the house to join them. ‘Darling, look,’ said the woman. She examined one of the horses, running her hands over its legs, checking for injuries. ‘Not even a scratch on them.’
The man, who Paulo assumed must be her husband, checked the other horse. ‘I can’t tell you how much this means to us,’ he said. He looked up from examining the horse’s front hoof. ‘We put the horses in the barn when the fires started but a spark must have been blown into the hay. We thought we’d lost them.’ He put the foot down and went to the rear one. ‘How did you know they came from here?’
Paulo grinned. ‘They told me. Could I ask a favour?’
‘Anything,’ said the man.
‘Could we use your phone?’
Hex wiped his screwdrivers clean again after a breakfast of more roasted witchetty grubs. Alex poured the last of the water collected from the solar stills into bottles. The stills had worked well. Amber put the fire out with sand and spread out the embers thinly, mixing them with loose sand so that they would not be a danger.
Alex handed the water bottles around. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Remember: we find our man, follow him and leave a trail so that Paulo and Sergeant Powell can pick him up. Pirroni is dehydrated, tired, hungry, in pain and losing blood.’
‘We, on the other hand,’ said Hex with a poker-straight face, ‘have had plenty of grub.’
Amber let out a yowl of laughter and thumped Hex on the back. Even Alex had to smile.
‘Right,’ said Amber, shouldering Li’s medical kit. ‘Let’s go to work.’
They climbed down the rope.
‘It’s a bit lighter now,’ said Amber, looking around when they got to the bottom. High up in the roof of the mine were small holes, probably for ventilation, but they also let the light in.
‘Hopefully we’ll be able to see more than when we were down here with Tommy,’ said Alex.
Hex and Amber followed him to the rock where Pirroni had been trapped. Alex knelt down and looked closely. ‘Got you,’ he said. The blood showed as dark spots against the red earth.
‘Hey, this place is like one of those tombs where the sun comes in at different angles depending on what time of day it is,’ said Amber. ‘Look.’
‘A tunnel. Well, that makes life easier.’ Hex looked at Alex. ‘Is that where the trail goes?’
Alex’s mouth worked into a smile. ‘It certainly does.’ He straightened up and stepped into the mouth of the tunnel. ‘We can’t be complacent, though. It may look straightforward but there might be forks or shafts - and we haven’t got a torch so we won’t be able to see them. Amber, you check the left-hand side, Hex, you check the right. Leave marks so we can find our way back, but not so they cover Pirroni’s trail.’
‘How do you know he’s gone on through the tunnel?’ said Amber.
‘The only way we’ll know that is if we find his blood at the other end. Wherever that is. Come on.’
Alex could hardly believe it when the tunnel emerged into the open and the heat hit him like a sauna. ‘Well, here we are,’ he said. ‘The question is, are we still on the trail?’
Hex knelt and searched the red sand. ‘Yes, we are. And this looks like one of his prints.’
‘How do you know?’ said Amber.
‘The print of the lame foot is blurred, as though it’s skidding along the ground. The other carries more pressure on the ball of the foot. Tommy showed it to me.’
‘Aren’t you a diligent student,’ said Amber.
Although her tone was jokey, she was impressed: Hex had taken the opportunity to extend his skills. And locals, as they had been taught in their training, could often be invaluable in giving information about an area.
‘Just move your foot a moment,’ said Hex.
‘Why?’ said Amber, lifting her boot.
Hex traced his finger around the footprint she had left. ‘Tommy said I can tell your weight from it— Ow!’ Amber had put her foot down on his finger.
‘The blood is less visible out here,’ said Alex. ‘He must have paused to bind the wound so that it wouldn’t leave so much of a trail.’
‘Before we go haring off,’ said Amber, ‘remember he laid a false trail in the plane. He might have done it again.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Alex. ‘Let’s check.’
They walked slowly around the entrance to the tunnel. Hex squatted down in the sand to get a closer look at some marks, but they weren’t footprints. He continued searching.
‘Hex, is this him?’ said Alex.
Hex tiptoed over, careful not to create more prints to confuse matters. ‘Yes - looks like it.’
‘Right,’ said Alex. ‘We have two sets of prints, each heading in a different direction. Which one do we take?’
‘Well, he’s probably going south, like he was before,’ said Amber.
Alex lined his watch up on the sun to get a direction reading. ‘Neither of these tracks is going south.’
Amber frowned. ‘Are you sure?’ she said. She checked with her watch too. ‘Hmm, you’re right.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Hex. ‘Alex, is he using a compass?’
‘There’s one in the survival kit he took from me.’
‘Well, if he’s using that, the iron in the rocks will distort the reading so he might think he’s going south when . . .’
‘What we need is another compass so that we know what he thinks is south,’ sighed Alex.
‘Wait a mo,’ said Amber. She dug into the medical kit and brought out a needle and a piece of suture thread. She stroked the needle on her shirt to magnetize it and tied the thread around the middle, then held the thread so that the needle dangled from it horizontally. ‘Makeshift compass,’ she said with a smile. The magnetized needle swung gently until it settled in one position. ‘I think you’ll find that Pirroni thinks south is . . . thataway.’
‘That’s this track here,’ said Hex.
‘Got him.’ Alex’s voice was dark with resolve. They had discovered a small chink in the armour of this formidable man.
The tracks crested a hill. Down below, in a shallow valley, was a clump of trees and beyond it a sea of mud.
‘Could be a water hole,’ said Amber. She ran down the hill.
‘It was a water hole, you mean,’ said Alex. ‘Quite recently too, by the look of it.’ The wet mud was beginning to dry as it baked in the fierce sun.
‘We should find some nice prints in that mud,’ said Hex as he followed.
‘Alex,’ called Amber. She was in the trees on the far side. ‘There’s something here. I think it’s the water hole’s last customer.’ They heard her moving further into the undergrowth. Then she screamed.
Hex reached her first. He spluttered when he saw what she was looking at. ‘Ugh, that is really gross.’
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It was the huge bulk of a dead camel. The abdomen was split open in a bloody line and the intestines spilled out. Flies coated the slippery grey entrails in a thick crawling veil. The smell was fetid and overpowering.
There were also flies covering a blackish object the size of a rugby ball that lay discarded a short distance from the main incision.
‘What’s that?’ said Amber. Her hand was over her mouth.
Alex prodded it with his boot. A cloud of flies rose up, buzzing angrily, giving him a glimpse of a fleshy white object streaked with blood. Next to it was a clump of fibrous stuff twisted like a large, fat rope.
‘That’s the stomach, isn’t it?’ said Amber through her fingers. ‘What’s he done?’
Alex moved away. ‘He’s opened it, wrung out the camel’s breakfast like a dishcloth and drunk the water. Goodness knows how he killed it one-handed. It must have been sick or old and weak.’
Hex was standing near the head. Blood oozed from a wound in the animal’s jugular, studded with flies. The eye sockets were a seething mass of insects. Hex tilted the camel’s head with his boot just long enough to get a good look, then turned away quickly, wincing. ‘He’s had the eyes. There’s water in them too.’
Amber moved to the animal’s head, trying not to look at the fly-filled eye sockets. She put her hand at the base of the camel’s ears. When she had horses, this was how she measured their core temperature. ‘It’s still warm. It hasn’t been dead long. He’s not far off.’
Alex dragged his foot through the mud to draw a large arrow. When he next spoke his voice was low and harsh. ‘We’ve been too careless. We’ve forgotten that he is armed and very dangerous. From now on we proceed with the utmost caution and in silence.’
24
CLOSER
Pirroni walked on. Ho kept his pace steady. If he conserved energy he had a chance of surviving. He only had to find a truck or car, or another plane and then he could be on his way. He cradled the stump where his left hand had been, making a makeshift sling out of his good arm. The pain hit him in waves, out he was used to the idea that pain was the way to freedom.
He had feigned unconsciousness when the kid came looking for him. He could have shot him but it was better to get away. Better to save a bullet. The kid would have plenty to do trying to get himself and the girl out anyway. He’d had more important things to worry about. As long as they knew where he was he was vulnerable, so he had unthreaded his belt, made a tourniquet and set to work with Alex’s knife. Every cut was a step to freedom. A crushed hand was probably no use to him anyway.
All the time he was cutting he listened. If anyone came back and found what he was doing, he would shoot.
When it was done he had ripped the sleeve off his shirt and tied it to the stump to staunch the flow of blood. He could see there was a tunnel so he had headed along it to find a place to lie low. When the kid came back later and found the hand, he had been just metres away in the dark. It was lucky coming across the camel like that; it had been lying down, so perhaps it had been on its last legs anyway. That water had saved his life.
The stump was bleeding again. He knew it would from time to time; the tourniquet was imperfect. He adjusted it, pulling the free end with his teeth.
He heard a scream ring through the bush. It sounded human. He stopped. Had he made the noise or had it come from somewhere else? He heard nothing further. He checked his compass and made sure that Alex’s sheathed knife was still in the waistband of his jeans. Then he corrected his course and resumed his journey.
When Hex examined the distinctive tracks they were heavier. Pirroni must have been walking more slowly. He nodded to Alex and Amber.
They were at the edge of a wood. Ravaged by the fires, the trees were reduced to desolate stalks of charcoal, their trunks and major branches all that remained. There was a splash of blood on the red earth.
‘Here he is,’ said Hex. Alex nodded grimly.
They heard something moving ahead. Alex signalled ‘Silence’ to the others. Treading very carefully, they stepped into the wood.
The ashy surface absorbed the sound of their footfalls. All the twigs and dead leaves had been consumed by the fires, so they were able to move swiftly and quietly. Still they walked with great care, never taking their safety for granted. The trail was less obvious. The blood was harder to see on the dark floor and the prints were less clear. Did Pirroni know he was being followed?
Alex saw him first - a pale blue shirt that showed up clearly against the black and red landscape. Alex realized that if Pirroni was so visible, they must be too. He gave the signal to get down. Amber and Hex dropped silently to the ground and looked at him, awaiting the next instruction.
He reached down to his boots, still caked with clumps of red mud from the water hole. He smeared the mud across his face, the back of his neck, behind his ears. Hex and Amber understood and began to camouflage each other. When they had done their skin they put it on their clothes. Then they took up handfuls of the ashy earth and rubbed it through their hair, caking it on top of the mud.
Alex rolled cautiously into a crouching position. Pirroni’s pale blue shirt was visible some distance ahead.
Pirroni continued his slow, steady walk. Flies buzzed around his stump, looking for the liquid that seeped through the makeshift bandage. They buzzed around his eyes, nose and mouth. He didn’t waste energy swatting them away; there were more important things to worry about.
He didn’t know how far he would have to walk, but that didn’t matter. He just walked. When he was flying over the area he had seen there were farms and Aboriginal settlements. He would come to one soon. Or if he found a road he could flag down a vehicle. In that case, his wound would be a very useful way of attracting help.
He heard a sound behind him. Without thinking he had turned and fired. Then he listened for the sound of a body falling; that was also automatic. There was only the screech of birds. He stood stock-still until the sounds subsided. Perhaps it had just been a branch falling. He reminded himself that a monotonous landscape was the most tricky of all to stay alive in. It allowed your mind to wander and played tricks with it.
When Pirroni fired, Alex and the others threw themselves to the ground. Alex kept absolutely still. The terrorist stood like a statue, waiting to see if there was any further noise of someone following. Amber and Hex watched Alex for the next signal to go on. Alex stayed where he was. He wouldn’t move until Pirroni did. Wounded or not, the terrorist was still a crack shot and he had bullets in his gun.
Pirroni moved his hand to his tourniquet, gripped one end of the belt in his teeth and yanked it. Alex wondered whether the bleeding was becoming worse.
Then Pirroni set off again.
Alex signalled to Hex and Amber. They got noiselessly to their feet and followed.
Pirroni walked doggedly. He tripped, put his left arm out to stop himself falling and cracked his stump on a tree. He paused and composed himself. Alex froze, his mind reeling. What sort of pain was the man coping with? His spirit of determination was unbelievable.
Was it Alex’s imagination or did he see bright-red blood spurting from the wound? Pirroni adjusted the tourniquet again. He resumed walking.
For the three followers, it was a trial of nerves. Amber and Hex had to put their faith in Alex. Their plan was to trail Pirroni, however long it took. They had to be patient, keep their concentration, stay vigilant and cautious. If anyone’s mind wandered the consequences could be serious. Everyone had a part to play. And they had to believe that the plan would work.
But Alex’s job was harder. He had to keep his faith in himself. The others were with him because he had decided to do this. How long should they continue to follow a dangerous man with a gun? Pirroni’s movements looked as if they were beginning to falter, but Alex couldn’t be sure. If he was slowing down, should they take the advantage and do something while they had the chance?
No, appearances could be deceptive. Heroics were both dangero
us and unnecessary. All they had to do was keep Pirroni in sight, leaving signs for Sergeant Powell and his men.
But what if Sergeant Powell didn’t come? What if Paulo and Li hadn’t managed to get the message to them?
They came to a clearing with termite mounds. As Amber carved an arrow into the ground, Hex spotted something down there. He knelt down to check; it was a set of human tracks. The termite mounds had acted as a firebreak and so the ground had not been scoured clean by the blaze like other areas of the wood. Hex glanced at Alex and pointed at them.
Alex dropped to his haunches to inspect them more closely.
Pirroni checked his compass again. His hand went to his water bottle. Then he remembered it had been smashed in the rockfall. Was that yesterday or this morning? He tugged on his tourniquet - now an automatic reaction. He stared at the stump. Did that happen yesterday or the day before?
He heard a sound. His right hand let go of the tourniquet, drew his gun and fired in one split second. A wallaby hit the ground and lay there. A waste of a bullet; it was too small to be worth gutting for water. Its paws continued to make running motions, as though it was dreaming.
Pirroni checked his compass again and walked on.
Alex found a vivid splash of blood on the termite mound. There were human tracks but it was confusing - two sets of Pirroni’s and two sets of other tracks too.
Hex looked at them closely, then straightened up.
He pointed at Alex and then at the sole of his boot.
Of course. They were Alex’s own tracks. He and Holly had come this way with Pirroni. The terrorist was walking round in big circles. He was relying on the compass and it was leading him astray; clearly exhaustion and pain were also taking their toll. Another tiny chink in the man’s armour.
Alex got up and motioned the others on. He heard a beating in the air and a shadow slid along the ground. A helicopter was flying overhead. It was quite high up, but it could be coming to drop off Sergeant Powell and his patrol. Alex dragged his foot along the ground to leave a mark.