Target for Terror

by Carl Hubrick

  Tom returned the smile. That was more like the Vicky of old, he thought. But not quite. He knew that now.

  ‘What do you think, Corina?’ Victoria asked. ‘Was it worth the effort?’

  The younger girl nodded, her mouth full of sandwich. But she still felt a little apprehensive. There was nothing to see up here but mountains going on forever. And it was a long way back.

  Tom brought out a pair of binoculars from his pack and studied the valley floor far below them. ‘Bet there’s a couple of thousand rabbits down there,’ he said.

  Jason’s gaze followed where his friend was looking. ‘Can’t see any,’ he said after a moment. ‘Let me have those binoculars for a sec.’

  Tom passed them over. ‘They won’t do you any good,’ he said. ‘You can’t see them, but they’re there all right – digging away, eroding the hillsides, eating the pastures. You can shoot ’em, poison ’em, kill ’em by the hundreds, but hundreds more will take their place – thousands! Some farmers are at the point of being pushed off their land by them.’

  ‘By rabbits?’ Jason was incredulous.

  ‘That’s right,’ Victoria agreed. ‘Those sweet little characters from Watership Down.’

  ‘I saw the DVD of that,’ Corina said. ‘We had it at school on the last day of term. It was lovely.’

  ‘Didn’t the English settlers bring the rabbit out with them?’ Victoria asked.

  ‘Yeah, I think so,’ Tom answered. ‘And now they’re a real pest in many parts of the country. Actually, it’s amazing what has been introduced into New Zealand – animals, birds, plants – we did it in class.’

  Victoria grinned. ‘There you are then. You did learn something.’

  Jason was moving the binoculars in a slow, steady sweep along the bush-clad slopes, but even with the high magnification, everything still appeared a very long way off.

  ‘Hey! I just saw one.’

  ‘One what?’ Tom asked.

  ‘A rabbit!’

  ‘No! Never!’ his friend said. ‘You’d never see one at this distance.’

  Jason brought the binoculars back to where he’d looked a moment before. ‘Well, there’s something moving down there...’

  There was a sudden blur of tan as Rhodo filled his vision. The dog was coming back up the hill, nose-hot on the trail of something – a trail that went right past where they sat, up into the rocks above them. Then came the dog’s excited bark.

  ‘She must have found...’ Tom began.

  ‘Hey! You kids! Call your dog back!’ The voice and its hoarseness startled them. Tom stood up to look for the owner.

  ‘Stay down!’ the male voice commanded. ‘Don’t let them see you.’

  A young man’s face appeared in the rocks above them. A handsome face, Victoria thought, but decidedly pale.

  ‘Don’t let who see us?’ Victoria asked.

  ‘Below you, in the valley,’ the man explained. ‘Some dangerous men – and they’ve got guns.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Victoria demanded.

  ‘I’m a...’ The young man hesitated. ‘A detective! Please!’ he pleaded. ‘Come up here, out of sight.’

  Victoria looked questioningly at Tom.

  He shrugged. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘I think he looks okay,’ Victoria replied quietly.

  Tom’s quick glance took in the detective’s green tartan shirt, blue jeans and black hiking boots. To Victoria, the young man was every bit as good looking as she had first thought. She studied his face. Yes, he was handsome all right – very handsome, with kind hazel eyes and shiny brown hair that flopped over his forehead. He was in his early twenties, perhaps, and as he got to his feet, she saw that he was tall and well built.

  It was then that Tom noticed the hole in the detective’s left shoulder that looked like fresh mince. And there was a large wet stain like a shiny red badge on the green tartan shirt.

  ‘You’ve been shot!’ Victoria exclaimed at once, a gasp in her voice.

  ‘It’s just a scratch,’ the man said.

  Tom wondered where he’d heard that before. They’d probably both seen the same old movie on TV.

  ‘That’s more than a bloody scratch,’ Jason murmured beside him.

  ‘Where... did... you kids... come from?’ The detective was having trouble talking - doubtless because of the big red hole in him.

  Tom pointed vaguely back across the hills in the direction of his home.

  ‘Right! Now listen!’ The young man sat down suddenly like a drunk. He looked up at the children and the pain was plain in his eyes. It was no wonder, Tom thought, if he’d had to climb the whole way up to the ridge with a bullet hole in him.

  ‘Now listen!’ The man said again, his voice desperate. ‘I... I want you to forget... forget you ever saw me.’ He paused, his tired brain struggling to pull the words together. ‘Go home... Go home now!’

  ‘Hey! This is just like the movies,’ Jason muttered.

  Victoria shook her head. ‘We’re getting you - to - a - doctor,’ she said. She spoke loud and slow, as if he might be hard of hearing.

  ‘No! Too dangerous...’ The young man’s voice at this point was little more than a croak. It was as though his batteries were running down. ‘Kill anyone in their way... must send message... peace... peace...’

  All at once, his batteries did run down. His head slumped forward and, like in a slow motion movie, he toppled sideways and hit the ground.

  Corina’s eyes widened fearfully. ‘Is he dead?’ she asked in a whisper.

  Victoria knelt by the detective’s side. ‘He’s alive!’ she affirmed. ‘Fainted, I think.’

  Rhodo’s nose started to sniff at the man’s red wound. Victoria pushed the inquisitive Ridgeback away.

  ‘Well, what happens next?’ Jason asked anxiously.

  Tom shot his friend a worried look. What had begun as a fun day had suddenly turned to custard.

  Victoria stood up and joined the others gazing down at the young man. Nothing was said, but their thoughts were racing.

  ‘Well, we can’t just leave him here,’ Victoria said at last. ‘Someone’s after him and he needs medical attention right away.’

  ‘They might be after us now too, from what he was saying,’ Tom observed uneasily.

  Jason gave an urgent nod. ‘Yeah! Tom’s right! I think we should clear off. That’s what the man told us to do.’

  Victoria shook her head. ‘No, I won’t abandon him.’ She looked across at her cousin imploringly. ‘Oh Tom! Can’t you see? He’s in real trouble. He could bleed to death and we’re the only ones who can help him.’

  Tom glanced quickly round at the surrounding slopes. They had a good view from where they were standing, and there was no immediate sign of danger. Besides, they had Rhodo on their side. The big dog would be sure to warn them.

  ‘Yeah, Victoria’s right,’ Tom said finally. ‘We can’t just leave him.’ He used the binoculars to scan the terrain around them. ‘Look, it’ll take too long to lug him back the way we came, especially if someone is after him.’

  ‘And us!’ Jason reminded him.

  But Tom, like his cousin, had now made up his mind. He pointed up the hill. ‘If we carry on along this ridge a bit further, we can go back down using the next valley. It runs more or less parallel to ours and it’s easier going. There’s a rabbiter’s hut halfway down and a road leading out to the main highway – well, just a rough track really. Anyway, with a bit of luck the rabbiter will be there with his utility.’

  ‘What’s a rabbiter?’ Corina asked.

  ‘He’s someone who kills rabbits for a living,’ Tom answered.

  Corina frowned. ‘Oh!’ she said.

  ‘And what if the rabbiter’s not there?’ Jason queried.

  Tom gave a nervous shrug. ‘Well, at least we’ll be able to leave the detective in the hut while we go for help.’

  Victoria gave Tom a grateful smile. ‘Sounds good to me!’

  ‘Right!’ said Jason. He b
ent down and took one of the young detective’s arms. ‘Let’s get to it then, while we still can.’

  The wounded man’s eyelids fluttered open at the boy’s touch. The wild stare focused.

  ‘Leave me!’ he shouted hoarsely. He waved an arm as if to sweep them all away. ‘Go!’

  ‘No fear!’ said Jason.

  The man’s eyes glanced fearfully round the circle of young faces.

  ‘They will kill you!’ he cried.

  Victoria’s mouth firmed. ‘I’m not leaving without you,’ she said. ‘You need our help.’

  ‘I’m not going either,’ Tom declared.

  Corina took her brother’s hand. ‘None of us is leaving without you,’ she affirmed quietly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  They took turns, two at a time, to support the wounded man as they made their way down the narrow trails that traversed the hillside. The other two took an extra pack each. There were only scattered areas of scrub in this valley and Tom realised half-way down that his choice of route had not been a good one. It left them out in the open, like a bunch of dumb rabbits, for any crack shot.

  When the young detective was conscious, he was able to make his own way with just a shoulder to lean on. When he fainted, as he did twice, they had to drag him. At least it was downhill. Even Rhodo had tried to help in her own way, by gripping the man’s trouser leg in her teeth and pulling, until Tom stopped her. She had no idea where the man’s jeans ended and his leg began, and he was injured enough already.

  Several times, they stopped to tend the red hole in the man’s shoulder when it began to bleed again. But Tom’s first aid kit had not been designed for bullet holes and they could do little.

  Once they all fell and only a quick lunge by Jason to grab at their patient stopped him rolling the rest of the way down the steep hill.

  It was almost four o’clock before they reached the one roomed, green weatherboard hut that belonged to the rabbiter. It had taken every bit of their will and stamina. There was no sign of the rabbiter or his utility. Just the steep track marked by overgrown wheel ruts that wound down to the valley floor.

  ‘He’ll be out somewhere doing his job,’ Tom explained. ‘Checking his traps or hunting for rabbits.’

  The door of the hut proved unlocked and Victoria and Jason half dragged, half carried their semi-conscious burden across the threshold and dropped him onto the single bunk, which stood against the far wall. The only other furniture in the room was an unpainted wooden chair and table. Tom and Corina dropped the four packs into a corner. The children were too exhausted to speak. They slumped to the floor, and leaned their backs against the wall. They needed to rest before going on. Tom took a swig from his water bottle and passed it round. The water bottle bypassed Corina, for she was already fast asleep.

  Rhodo sniffed her way round the interior of the hut then lay down with her black nose on Tom’s outstretched legs, and commenced a gentle snore.

  * * * * *

  ‘Thanks! I owe you guys a lot. By the way, my name’s John.’

  Five minutes rest had done the wounded man wonders. His voice was stronger, and he was sitting up on the edge of the bunk, his hands on his knees. But his face was still a pale shade of grey. Even his lips had been drained of their colour. It was evident he had lost a lot of blood.

  Victoria introduced the four of them and Rhodo.

  John gave a broad smile. ‘Thanks Victoria, Corina, Tom and Jason – and thank you, Rhodo.’

  The dog’s tail thwacked the floor twice at the sound of her name.

  But the young detective’s smile soon faded and his face became grim. ‘Look, I appreciate all you kids have done for me. Really I do. But now you must go. You’re in terrible danger if you stay.’

  ‘We’re not leaving! We’re going to get you to safety and that’s that!’ Victoria could be real stubborn when she liked, Tom thought.

  ‘No! No! No!’ It was the closest thing to a shout the wounded man had - his hoarseness was back. He glared at Victoria with such fierceness the girl felt forced to look away. For one long moment Victoria was afraid she had really made him angry.

  But all at once the young man’s mood softened. ‘Look... I’m sorry. I’m not ungrateful. But this whole business is much more dangerous than you realise. There are men out there who will stop at nothing until they catch me.’ He paused, mulling over what further things he wanted to say, then took a deep breath and continued. ‘You see, I’m not your ordinary sort of detective, and the men pursuing me are not your ordinary sort of criminal. I work for an undercover group concerned with protecting the security of our nation.’

  ‘The SIS?’ Tom did little more than breathe the question.

  ‘What’s the SIS?’ Jason asked.

  Tom answered with awe. ‘The Secret Intelligence Service. Haven’t you heard of it? It’s the same as the CIA or MI5, only it’s the New Zealand one.’

  ‘Security Intelligence Service,’ the SIS agent corrected with a faint smile.

  Jason grinned cheekily at the young man on the bunk. ‘So you’re a spy,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to call you, John X.’

  The wounded agent laughed, then immediately crunched up with pain.

  ‘Does it hurt a lot?’ Victoria enquired gently.

  ‘Only when I laugh,’ John X answered.

  We did see the same old movie on TV, Tom decided.

  ‘The men who shot you,’ Victoria asked. ‘Are they foreign spies?’

  The young man nodded. ‘Yes, but they’re the type more interested in doing as much damage as they can in the name of their cause. They don’t care who they hurt or how many suffer.’

  ‘Terrorists!’ Tom muttered more to himself than the others.

  ‘Terrorists!’ Jason echoed much louder.

  ‘Yes, terrorists!’ the SIS agent confirmed. ‘Now do you understand why I want you to go – this instant!’

  ‘Well, we’re not leaving without you,’ Victoria said. ‘Those men out there are trying to kill you and we’re not going to let them. We’ll ring the police and get them to help you.’

  John X shook his head. ‘You still don’t understand, do you?’ His voice had gone cold. ‘Those are not men out there. They are pure evil. They have no human feelings, like you or me – no emotions. They’re a band of trained killers and it will take an army to stop them. Murder is their business. Killing – the one thought on their mind. If the local police become involved it will end in a bloodbath and many innocent people will die. These men have to keep their purpose in this country a secret or their mission will fail.’

  The children were silent. Stubbornly silent, Tom thought.

  John X studied his young rescuers – saw the determination in their faces. After a moment, he gave a weary sigh. His tone softened. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you what we’ll do.’

  The SIS agent glanced over at Corina who had gone back to sleep propped up against Jason. One arm was draped across her brother, the other supported the thumb that had vanished into her mouth. He needed a plan.

  ‘You kids are beat. I’m beat! We’ll rest a short while longer and regain our strength – then make a break for it. Once we start, we don’t stop, and you don’t look back – no matter what happens. Do you understand?’ The children nodded. ‘You find your parents and make them take you out of the area – immediately! You go as far away as you can – to the nearest big town maybe. Some place where there lots of people...’

  The agent paused for a moment, choosing his next words. In the gap, his voice returned to its bitter tone.

  ‘Remember, those men out there are not ordinary men. They will kill anyone they think has been talking to me - anyone and everyone - even little children. They will stop at nothing. And they never give up. They never ever give up!’

  John X sought Victoria’s eyes with a pleading look. ‘You will be able to explain the urgency to your parents somehow, won’t you? Make then believe you? Convince them of the terrible danger?’

  Victoria nodded.
‘It’s my aunt and uncle. But you’ll be with us, won’t you?’ she queried, a puzzled frown beginning on her brow.

  ‘Of course! Of course!’ The young man affirmed, forcing a smile. ‘Do you think I’d let you children head off on your own? No - of course not!

  Right! But now let’s get some rest. And that’s an official SIS order!’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Oh, one last thing,’ he added casually. ‘In my business we don’t take chances. So, in case anything happens to me...’ The young man put up his hand as Victoria opened her mouth to protest. ‘Just in case...’ he continued. ‘I’m going to give you a number and a message to memorise.’

  The telephone number was easy to remember, but the message made no sense at all. Peacemaker was all they were to say.

  * * * * *

  Three grey suits approached the hotel reception desk – a woman and two men. Business executives, the young auburn haired receptionist decided, putting on her best customer service smile.

  The two men stopped a couple of metres or so short of the desk. They were holding large black briefcases close by their sides. The men did not speak, but stood surveying the hotel foyer as though they were some kind of weird hotel inspectors. The woman came right on up to the desk. Like her companions, she carried a large black briefcase, which made a solid “clunk” as she put it down.

  The woman was perhaps in her early thirties, with long shiny black hair, olive skin and dark brown eyes – a complexion from somewhere in Asia or perhaps the Middle East.

  There was something quite striking about her, the receptionist decided. She did not have the looks featured in women’s magazines nor in men’s for that matter, but she was attractive to look at nonetheless.

  ‘We have reservations,’ the woman said. ‘Two rooms - for one night only.’ She spoke English with a heavy foreign accent.

  But this to the young woman behind the desk was hardly noteworthy. The large Christchurch hotel was used to guests speaking a gabble of exotic languages, from every corner of the world. What sometimes amused the receptionist was the trouble overseas guests had with Maori place names – yet another language to contend with, along with the New Zealand brand of English.