Target for Terror

by Carl Hubrick

  The small band made their way carefully, keeping to the wooded areas, avoiding open ground. The New Zealand bush had been new to them, but already they could move in it without noise, and find their way without difficulty. Such was their professionalism.

  The Boyle River glinted through the trees below them. The blue-eyed leader signalled and the squad of four turned as one and made their way down to its bank, weapons at the ready. Like wary animals, the men broke cover to refresh themselves at the water’s edge. For a time they studied the main road that followed the opposite bank and the few houses that stood on the slope of the bush-covered hillside beyond, then they folded back into the green and disappeared.

  * * * * *

  The dark pistol-butt showed clearly under the open jacket of the man’s grey suit as he slid behind the steering wheel of the black limousine. He was a tall, fit looking man in his late twenties or early thirties, with brown eyes and dark brown hair.

  The big shiny car, with its American flags, had parked alongside the aircraft, on the side away from the public’s view. Police cars, with their red and blue lights flashing, stood at the limousine’s front and rear.Airport Security guards and police officers stood listening and talking into their personal radios. It was the busiest they had been for a while. Christchurch did not get that many big shot visitors and it put some fun into an otherwise ho-hum day.

  The man turned to his passenger in the back seat. ‘Good morning, Senator. I trust you enjoyed your flight?’

  Senator Lloyd Honeywell gave a weak smile. He had not expected the first person he met in New Zealand to be wearing a handgun. It was too much like the USA.

  ‘Yes, it was a good flight, thank you,’ the American managed to mutter. The senator was not at all sure what he had expected really - grass skirts and spears?

  A uniformed police officer came over to the car and leaned in through the driver’s window.

  ‘Just about set to go, Senator.’

  The officer spoke to the driver briefly, but the man had now buttoned his jacket up and the pistol had disappeared from sight.

  The man spent a moment adjusting his seatbelt. Around the gun, the senator wondered?

  The uniformed officer caught a signal from somewhere and waved them on. The driver put the limousine into drive and the vehicle moved quietly away from the aircraft with a smooth surge of power.

  ‘Ah, is it usual for New Zealand drivers to carry pistols?’ The senator asked as casually as he could.

  ‘Oh sorry, you noticed did you, sir? I should have introduced myself sooner. I’m Bill Collins, a member of the Diplomatic Protection Squad that’s been assigned to look after you while you’re here in Christchurch.’ The plain-clothes police officer smiled reassuringly into the rear-view mirror. ‘The gun’s merely a precaution in line with your VIP status. We’re not expecting any trouble. I think you’ll find us New Zealanders a lot tamer than most.’

  The senator nodded. He knew, of course, that bodyguards were standard procedure. But all people with guns made him nervous.

  ‘Oh and by the way, sir,’ Bill Collins continued. ‘May I say what an honour it is to meet The Peacemaker.’

  The senator smiled. As much as he liked his nickname, there were times when it reminded him of a character from an old John Wayne movie.

  ‘Why thank you, Bill,’ he said.

  The drive from the airport was a surprise for the senator. It was green and pleasant with attractive homes and gardens – but not one coconut palm to be seen anywhere. The plainclothes police officer pointed out various landmarks as they passed, the World War 2 Spitfire being one of the more noteworthy ones.

  ‘Unfortunately, it’s not the real thing,’ Bill Collins explained. ‘Just a fibreglass replica, but there is the Air Force Museum at Wigram, not far from here if you’ve got the time. You’d need at least a couple of hours to do it justice.’

  The senator smiled at the driver’s mirror. ‘A nice thought Bill, but they’d never let me.’

  The DPS officer looked up blankly for a moment then grinned as the understanding hit him.

  ‘Oh yes sir, I see, a busy schedule, eh? Not exactly a holiday.’

  Senator Honeywell laughed. ‘That’s right. They seem to think politicians exist only for shaking hands, kissing babies and making speeches.’

  The DPS officer nodded his understanding. ‘A bit like a police officer’s lot, sir.’

  It was the senator’s turn to look puzzled. ‘Explain Bill!’

  ‘Well sir, I mean friends and neighbours seem to think a police officer’s on duty twenty-four, seven. They don’t see us as people, just like themselves. Take the kid next door for example. When I ask him a casual question such as, “How’s school?” or “Do you have much homework?” - he clams up on me, as if he’s afraid it’s all part of some police interrogation.’

  The senator laughed. ‘Ah, I see what you mean, Bill. Yes, it seems we have a similar problem, you and I.’

  *

  Along the way, a few people put their lives on pause for a moment to watch the senator’s motorcade pass – but by and large most of the city’s populace waited to see the news happen later on TV. The senator did not notice the well-dressed trio, a dark-eyed woman and two men, who watched his passage with more than a casual interest. Had he noticed, he would nevertheless not have known them, nor would he have realised how uncomfortable they felt in their stiff grey suits, and that they carried enough weaponry in their briefcases to start a small war.

  When the senator’s car had passed, one of the men gave a low laugh. ‘These people are like children,’ he sneered. ‘Our task will be so easy. They do not even know we are in the country.’

  The woman of the trio shook her head. ‘No! It will not be easy.’ Her voice was firm - the voice of a leader. ‘Remember what Karl says. When you think you have nothing to worry about, then it is you have a worry indeed.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘Now Thomas, have you got your first-aid kit?’ his mother asked for the umpteenth time.

  Breakfast was over and the children were standing on the front verandah of the Wilsons’ holiday home in T-shirts and shorts, ready to leave on a one-day tramp into the hills. Rhodo was engaged in a restless weaving around their legs, the excitement plain in every fibre of her being.

  ‘Yes!’ Tom produced the red plastic box from his pack. ‘There! See!’ The impatience in his tone was obvious.

  ‘Yes, I do see! Thank you, Thomas. And you can just watch the way you answer me please. You know I can’t abide rude manners.’

  ‘I’m sorry Mum, but that’s the hundredth time you’ve asked.’

  ‘Hmm, well! That’s as maybe. I just want to be sure. You know what you children are like normally.’

  She turned to her husband, a worried look on her face. ‘Oh Les, are you sure we should let them go? Wouldn’t it be better if they waited until you were free to go with them?’ As a mother, she always had far too much to do, to think of going herself.

  Her husband laughed. ‘You certainly are a worrier,’ he said. ‘The children don’t want to hang around here while I finish off the annual repairs and maintenance. And look at Rhodo, she’s positively champing at the bit. They’ll be all right. It’s only a bit of a walk really. It’s unfortunate that cell phones don’t have coverage up there or they could take mine, but the house will be in sight most of the way and the forecast is good.’

  He nodded over at the children. ‘Thomas and Victoria are experienced trampers and they’ll see to it that Jason and Corina don’t come to any harm. Besides,’ he gave an exaggerated wink, ‘I suspect they’d like to be free of adult company for a while – have an adventure on their own.’

  He turned to his son. ‘Now Thomas, don’t go too far, keep our valley in sight, and don’t forget Jason and Corina aren’t used to these mountain hikes and may tire more easily – so consider their needs.’

  Jason shook his head. ‘I’ll be the last one to get tired,’ he protested indignantly
.

  ‘Yes, we’ll be all right, Aunty Jo,’ Victoria interposed. ‘It’s like Uncle Les said, we can’t come to any harm – and if by chance something did happen, Thomas and I know what to do – really.’

  Her aunt nodded. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re going, Victoria. I know I can trust you to be sensible.’ She smiled. ‘Only it’s my job to worry. If I didn’t, who else would - and where would you be then?’

  Victoria’s aunt turned to the others. ‘Now! Have you all got your lunch, water- bottles, sun block and hats?’ The children nodded in unison. ‘And extra clothing, jerseys, socks et cetera, in case the weather changes?’ The round of nods came again. ‘Good! Well, I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea, but off you go then. And Rhodo! You make sure you look after them too.’

  Rhodo did not understand the words, but she knew what the female pack leader expected of her.

  *

  The day was as the weather forecast had said it would be – fine and warm. Later, it would probably be too hot really, but not enough to spoil the fun. After a fifteen-minute or so walk along the main road they reached a stile over a barbed wire fence that marked the beginning of the hiker’s path. Rhodo found a gap in the fence and made her own way through.

  Their first task was to cross the river at the trampers’ swing bridge that hung some four or five metres above the blue-green depths of the river. The Boyle was narrower here, pushed in by crags of copper coloured rock.

  Rhodo crossed first - she knew the way well and was preparing to come back and escort the others when Tom stopped her with the command - stay!’

  ‘She forgets how big she is at times,’ he explained. ‘She’s just as likely to knock someone into the river wagging that strong tail of hers.’

  The Ridgeback sat at the other end of the bridge, her mouth open in a happy grin, her pink tongue lolling out.

  One Person to Cross at a Time, the sign on the bridge said. Victoria and Tom went across one at a time, but Jason crossed with his sister to allay her fears when the bridge swayed with her weight.Once on the other side, Tom pointed out three big trout he had seen nosing lazily into the current, their brown shapes wavering with the ripples on the surface.

  ‘We’ll come back here with the rod tomorrow,’ he promised the others. ‘We’ll have to creep up on them though, and that means you can’t come with us, Rhodo. You’re about as quiet as a herd of elephants. You can be sure those ones have spotted us by now. Trout aren’t silly.’

  *

  The valley floor was mostly grassland for grazing and was littered with sheep droppings, though the sheep themselves seemed few and far between. The few there were retreated rapidly at the sight of the big tan dog.

  Bush garnished the slopes, and so the first hour of the track up the valley-side was mostly in the shade. As they climbed higher, the bush gave way to tussock and the four children were able to command astonishing views for their toil. Roll upon roll of grey-green hills fading to violet, hidden vales, and always, above and beyond them all, the majestic snow-capped summits of the Southern Alps stretching north and south as far as the eye could see. Whether Rhodo enjoyed the views or not, no one could tell, but if her constant grin and eager nose said anything, she was in seventh heaven.

  ‘You know, you could almost imagine being able to see Mount Cook from here,’ Victoria mused, lost in admiration for the seemingly endless panorama of jagged white peaks.

  Tom gave a scornful laugh. ‘No way! Mount Cook might be the highest peak in the Alps, but it’s about two hundred and fifty kilometres to the south.’

  ‘I know that, Silly!’ Victoria replied impatiently. ‘I said you could almost imagine. Really Thomas, have you got no sensitivity – no soul in you at all?’

  ‘I don’t think he has,’ Jason said solemnly. ‘Soulless! That’s what he is. And I’m sure Mrs Sykes would agree with you on that.’

  Tom grimaced. ‘Ugh! Did you have to mention her?’

  ‘Who’s Mrs Sykes?’ Victoria queried. ‘Is she your teacher, Tom?’

  ‘Was!’ Tom corrected. ‘Don’t forget I’m going to high school this year – getting away from her at last. Boy, she was a mean one and no mistake. Anyway, do we have to talk about her? I was enjoying myself until you mentioned her name.’

  ‘Argh!’ Jason scrunched up his face and crooked his fingers into claws. ‘I’m going to get you, Thomas,’ he screeched. ‘You’re going to stay in after school every night! Hiss! Do you hear me? Every night!’

  Tom scowled fiercely at his friend.

  ‘Sorry!’ Jason said, relaxing his face to a grin. ‘Still, that’s all over now. I reckon we survived the meanest of the mean with old Sykes. They could use her for training terrorists. Anyone who passed her course would be the most terrifying terrorist that ever lived.’

  ‘I reckon,’ agreed Tom.

  ‘What did your mother think about your teacher?’ Victoria asked.

  ‘Huh? Mum? She thought she was great. It was always Mrs Sykes says this and Mrs Sykes says that. Reckoned she was one of the best teachers in the school. Hah! A lot she knew. She didn’t have to put up with her.’

  ‘Did you two do a lot of work in Year Eight then?’ Victoria enquired innocently.

  ‘Tell me about it!’ Tom muttered sourly. ‘Tons of it!’

  ‘Always did your homework and kept your books up-to-date and tidy?’ Victoria continued, in the same innocent tone.

  ‘She didn’t give us any bloody choice!’ Jason returned vehemently, shaking his head.

  Victoria smiled. ‘Would you say that you did quite a lot of work during the year then, Tom? Say - more than your usual effort?’

  ‘Too right!’ Tom agreed. ‘I hardly had time for anything else.’

  ‘I suppose you might have learnt a few things too?’ his cousin persisted.

  Tom nodded reluctantly. ‘I suppose,’ he admitted grudgingly.

  Victoria began to laugh. ‘I think that lady had you two well and truly sorted,’ she said. ‘But have you ever thought she might have done you both a favour by making you work - that you might actually have gained some useful knowledge?’

  Jason shook his head crossly. ‘There’s no way she ever did me any favours,’ he said bitterly. ‘No way!’

  *

  The Wilson home had long since vanished from view and even their valley was fast disappearing behind them as they topped the ridge. The wind was fresh now, even cold in the gusts, despite the sun. The tussock moved in golden waves following the clumps of cotton-wool cloud that scudded across the sky. Here and there, huddles of mountain daisies bobbed their heads in the sea of gold.

  ‘Aren’t we supposed to be keeping the house in sight?’ Corina asked, feeling a little overawed by what appeared to be the world, almost, laid out before her.

  Victoria smiled at the younger girl. ‘It’s all right really,’ she said gently. ‘We wouldn’t take you anywhere dangerous. I’ve been coming up here for years – since I was a child. We’re only going... up there!’ She pointed vaguely in the direction of the endless peaks above them. ‘And then it will be time for lunch and after that we’ll head home. You’re not frightened are you, love, ’cause we can turn back right now if you are?’

  ‘No, I’m not frightened,’ the younger girl replied evenly. ‘I just didn’t want us to get lost.’

  ‘Yeah! Come on! Let’s keep going.’ Jason urged his sister on with a forefinger poke to her back .

  As if sensing Corina’s dilemma, Rhodo came and leaned her weight into the girl, all forty-five kilos of it. It was the closest thing the dog had to a hug.

  Corina laughed. ‘Stop it Rhodo! You’ll push me over.’

  ‘She’s just telling you she likes you, and that she’ll look after you,’ Tom explained.

  The dog butted the girl’s hand, insisting on a pat.

  Corina stroked the Ridgeback’s head. ‘Okay! Okay!’ she said softly. ‘And I like you too.’

  A moment later, the big dog had bounded off out of sight up the
trail ahead of them, and they heard her barking her joy in the day.

  *

  Up there was another hour, and Corina was beginning to wonder if the ascent would ever end. Her legs were sore - her whole body tired. She was unused to the steep climb and uneasy with the distance they had travelled. Had she not seen the mountains for herself, she would have found it impossible to imagine a vista so vast. The ridge they were following looked down upon more hills and valleys stretching away as far as she could see. There were no houses, no roads, no signs of life - nothing.

  But at last the summit of their climb was reached. The children found a rocky pinnacle on the other side of the ridge, looking down upon another valley, where they could shelter from the cool wind for lunch. Rhodo disappeared into a patch of scrub down the hillside and they heard her barking with excitement at some dog-type discovery.

  Tom gazed out at the scene around them. ‘You know, if it was winter-time, all this would be buried under thick snow – even where we’re sitting.’

  Jason nodded. ‘You sure could make one hell of a snowman,’ he said.

  Tom opened up the wrapping on the sandwiches from his backpack.

  ‘Yuk! Egg sandwiches,’ he complained.

  ‘Oh, give them here, fusspot,’ Victoria said. ‘Have mine. They’re ham. Anyway, I think your mother meant us to share them around. You don’t have to eat all the same kind. It’s just the way she packed them.’

  ‘Well, we’d better do it and fast, before Rhodo figures out it’s lunch-time,’ Tom said. ‘Once she spots food, we’ll be lucky to get any.’

  ‘Lunch with a million dollar view!’ Victoria said. ‘Oh, but I love it up here.’ She felt more at ease than she had for a while. She smiled over at Tom. She had missed all this more than she had realised.