by Des Hunt
If he’d looked at the next screen he may have gone to sleep a little happier. It was the map showing the sensors that checked for land movement. One near the top of the crater wall was flashing. Some of the rock had moved. Across the bottom was a graph of activity. It was like a forest-fire danger sign — an indicator needle could swing across a range of coloured dots, from green for low to red for extreme. When Robbie had seen it earlier it had been on green. As he slept, it stepped through each of the other colours until it was pointing at red. Then after a time it moved back a couple of places to yellow. The rock on the crater wall had settled in a new place. It would be safe … for now.
Chapter 17
When Robbie went down in the morning he got quite a shock. The last person he expected to see at breakfast was sitting at the table. It was also the last person he wanted to see. Noel Richardson and Jim were chatting as if they were the best of mates. Robbie’s first thought was the sale of Paradise. Maybe it had already been decided and that was why everyone was so friendly.
“Ah, Robbie,” began Jim. “Just as well you’re up early. We’ve got a surprise for you.”
Nothing would surprise me with that man, thought Robbie.
“Oh yes?” he asked pleasantly. “What is it?”
Richardson smiled but said nothing. This morning he was the rich neighbour handing out favours.
“Noel’s offered to take you to White Island for the morning.” Robbie’s first thought was delight. Then came suspicion. Why this sudden interest in him?
“Yes,” said Richardson. “The wind’s perfect, from the north. Couldn’t be better.”
“You’re doing this just for me?”
“Well, not exactly,” he admitted. “I own an island along the coast a bit. I need to visit it for a day or two. So the boat was going in the water anyway.” Then he grinned. “But a side trip to White Island and back won’t be any trouble. No trouble at all.”
Robbie didn’t know what to say. His head was a jumble of thoughts. His first instinct was to say yes. Who wouldn’t accept the chance to visit a volcano? Then it was no. How could he trust this man? But what if he does have Puku? This could be a chance to save her and the babies. Oh, heck! What should I do? Why isn’t Price here?
The two men were looking at him, waiting.
“OK,” he said. “I’ll go.”
Jim seemed relieved. Richardson was ecstatic: “Excellent!” he said. “I’m really looking forward to it. If you go get your things we’ll be off.” He waved Robbie up the stairs. Then he seemed to remember something. “Ah yes! I almost forgot. Jim says you have a portable computer.”
Robbie was about to say it was Price’s, before something stopped him. He just nodded.
“Good. I’ve got one of those new infrared digital cameras. It’ll be able to take some great shots of the volcano. But there’s a problem. It only stores eight shots. If we had your portable we could take as many shots as we want. Share them between the two of us. What do you think?”
Robbie realized he was in a corner. How could he refuse without seeming ungrateful? “Yeah. OK. I’ll bring it.”
“Good man! Off you go and get it. And make sure you’ve got strong shoes and sun block.”
* * *
Robbie spent the next ten minutes as if his life depended on it. He rang Price on the mobile. Again he got voice mail. He left a third message, this time giving details of the trip to White Island. “I hope that bug of yours works. I’ll make sure he turns on the GPS.” Then, after a pause he added a last plea. “Look after me, Price. I’m scared.”
Then, he sent him email message. He wrote about everything that had happened since Price left. He didn’t bother with codes he just wanted it all recorded. At that moment he didn’t care if anybody else read it. The important thing was that Price knew what had happened.
Just before he finished, Jim called up the stairs. “What the hell are you doing? Noel’s waiting.” He sounded annoyed.
“Won’t be long,” Robbie yelled. “I had to finish something on the computer.” He then made the telephone, connection to send the message. He knew the men downstairs would hear the clicking, but hopefully they’d think it was the third user making a call.
Finally it was done. It was all he could do. As an insurance policy, it wasn’t much. Hopefully it would be enough.
* * *
The trip out to the island was rough as they battled all the way into a strong northerly. Robbie found it unpleasant. If he’d had any breakfast he would have lost it over the side. The lackey lost his almost as soon as they got going. It seemed to be normal; the two men joked about it. Unlike the previous trip, there were few other boats. Only the very hardy or foolish would go out into the teeth of a northerly.
Robbie didn’t have to convince Richardson to use the GPS. All the instruments were turned on as soon as the engine started. As they got closer to the island, Richardson got out his new infrared camera and they connected it to the computer. The image was shown on the screen, just like a normal video camera. But the colours were far from normal. They were weird. In places the sea was black, while in others it was a dull red. The same was true of the land. Both farmland and bush were red, but in different shades.
However, it wasn’t until Robbie pointed it at the volcano that the full range of colours showed. The rocks ranged from blue to bright orange, and the steam was mostly yellow, except for deep into the crater, where it was pure white. Richardson explained that the colours indicated temperature. The cold colours were from black to green. The warm ones were red through to white. Robbie took several shots. It was simply a matter of pressing the button on the camera and the image would be stored on the portable’s hard disk. He got so involved in what he was doing that his earlier fears had almost gone. Plus there was no sign from Richardson that the trip was anything other than what it was meant to be.
As they moved into the lee of the island, the sea calmed. In Crater Bay it was flat, like a pond. A few wavelets lapped at the shore where two gulls were fighting over some dead object. The jetty was a rock and concrete structure, broken in the middle where the end part had collapsed into the sea.
There was a short debate over whether the boat should be left tied to the jetty. In the end the lackey took it out into the bay, anchored it, and rowed himself ashore in a small dinghy.
Robbie looked around the place. Then, for the first time, he became really scared. The place was alien, with danger all around. There wasn’t much geothermal activity near them, but there were plenty of signs. Almost everything seemed red. It was a coating; even the wood and concrete of the ruined fertiliser works were red.
And there was volcanic ash. It had obviously coated everything at one time and was heaped against the ruins and clogged in between the rocks. On the slopes it was marked with deep rain channels. In places it looked just like photos from the planet Mars.
They picked their way over the rocks to a notice. It told them they were on a Private Scenic Reserve, warning them not to leave the mapped path. The map below was so corroded no path could be seen.
Noel Richardson proved to be a very good guide. He seemed to know a lot about the place and he didn’t speak down to the boy. He called him Robbie for the first time. There was no more “young man” rubbish. Robbie felt he could almost like Noel-the-Tour-Guide. Some of his fear lessened.
“These great lumps of rocks were washed down in the lahar that killed the eleven sulphur miners. Their huts were under here somewhere. The only survivor was the camp cat.”
“What’s a lahar?”
“A river of rock, mud and boiling water. They’re very common with New Zealand volcanoes. One that came down off Ruapehu sixty years ago killed over a hundred people. They’re not something you want to get caught up in.”
They carefully crossed a stream, which Noel said was as acidic as vinegar. Then they were up in the steam fields. Steam seemed to come from every crack, and around most vents were beautiful yellow crystals of sulphur
.
Noel pointed to it. “You can see where sulphur’s old name of brimstone comes from. The steam contains two gases which react and deposit sulphur around the brim. Hence brimstone, as in the wicked witch’s fire and brimstone.”
Some of the places looked just like a witch’s cauldron: bubbling mud, hissing steam, and smelly. Everywhere a smell like someone had farted. The gas made his lungs hurt and his eyes smart. It really was like the stories of hell.
They walked in single file — Richardson in front, then Robbie, with the lackey at the rear. Increasingly Robbie was feeling that he was being escorted, like a prisoner. The fear returned.
The Donald fumeroles came next. Richardson explained that these were the remains of an old eruption site, named after Donald Pye, who went missing near the spot many years before. All they ever found of him was his boots.
Robbie was now really frightened. As they looked into the crater called Big Donald, the lackey stood very close behind him. If he was pushed, there was nothing to stop him falling into the roaring, boiling hole.
Yet Noel continued as if it was an enjoyable morning’s sightseeing. “Over there used to be Noisy Nellie. But she’s quiet now. Been replaced by Vulcan’s Vent. That’s the one making the rude noises. Vulcan is the Roman God of Fire and Volcanoes. He’s the one causing all this lot.” He laughed.
Further on he stopped again. “Up there you can see where the crater collapsed causing the lahar I told you about.” He peered at it through narrowed eyes. “My word! That bit alongside seems to have changed since my last visit. Let’s have a look at it through the camera.”
Robbie passed over the computer. The lackey connected the camera and Richardson focussed on the crater rim. Below the missing part was dull orange indicating little activity. As he swung round the colours changed to yellow and in some places white.
“I was right. There’s a lot of activity up there now. That lot’s going to come down sometime.” Some of the confidence had gone from his voice. The danger of the place was getting to him too. “Come on. Let’s get this over and done with.”
“Can’t we go back now?” asked Robbie. “My lungs are aching.”
Richardson turned. “Not without seeing the pipe, you’re not.” He was no longer the tour guide. There was menace in his voice. He marched off into the steam. The lackey gave a little push to make Robbie follow. The steam was acid and bit deeper into his throat and lungs.
Out the other side was a small rise. They climbed to the top and out into the sunshine. Steam was billowing out of the space in front of them. Carefully they moved forward, with Robbie in the middle. They stopped just short of the edge.
“There you are. You wanted to see a volcano. Well now you’re looking right into the pipe of one. A hundred metres down there it’s molten rock.”
Robbie looked down. Through the steam he saw glimpses of a boiling yellow-green lake. A vile brew of sulphur and who knows what else. They were so close to the edge, it was terrifying.
“That bubbling cauldron is boiling sulphuric acid,” said Richardson. “It would take the flesh off your bones in seconds. Your skeleton might take a while longer. But there’d soon be nothing left.”
All of the friendliness had gone now. There was a coldness in his voice as he said: “Let’s give you a little display.”
The lackey had the computer. Carefully the camera was removed and the computer passed to Richardson. Then as if it were a rock, he tossed it into the pipe. There was a great gush of bubbles where it landed. The acid foamed into a fountain. A rush of gases poured over them, blocking the view. When it had cleared the acid lake was back to the simmering broth. Any sign of the computer had gone.
“There! That’s got rid of that bit of rubbish,” snarled Richardson. “Now it’s time to do something about you.”
Chapter 18
Price was pleased to be home. He never enjoyed staying in motels, and had been happy when his business finished almost a day early. He’d ridden back as soon as he could. White Island caught his view a couple of times during the trip — there seemed to be a bit more activity than usual. Probably last night’s earthquake had cleared a few vents. It would soon settle back to normal.
When he got back to his bus, he turned on the mobile, still annoyed with himself for leaving it behind. It beeped straightaway. Texts told him he had three new voice messages. He dialled Totalcom Service and then listened to the three messages with increasing alarm. Next he connected the mobile to the computer so he could get Robbie’s emails. He read the second one twice.
With growing concern, he went to the program that was watching the GPS bug. A stream of numbers appeared on the screen. They were the locations of the boat. The GPS was on and the bug was working. Relieved, he loaded a map of the area and laid the numbers on it. A track formed passing directly from the mouth of the river to White Island.
“Well, at least he went to where he said he would.” Price had been worried that White Island had just been used as an excuse to get Robbie onto the boat. Now he knew they were on the island. Or moored just off it.
He disconnected the mobile and pressed a number.
“Ah! Johnny, kia ora! Price here … Yeah. It’s all done … Oh I think you’ll be pleased with the result. Very, very pleased. Look, I’ve got a bit of an emergency. Is your boat in the water? … White Island! Can it manage that? … Good. And do you still have that computer onboard? … Great! … I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Next he rang Jim. There was no reply. He’d be out working. He could be anywhere on the farm, even in Paradise. There wasn’t enough time to find him. Robbie was probably already in extreme danger.
It took him five minutes to take the GPS receiver off the computer and copy the program to a memory stick. Before he left, he accessed TWIMP. The magma level was OK, but the movement on the crater rim was worrying. The activity level was orange. Nobody should visit the island at that level. As he rode off, he wondered whether Richardson had checked the activity before he left. He was a fool if he hadn’t. Either that, or he had a more sinister idea in mind.
* * *
Johnny Marshall’s boat was about the same size as Richardson’s, but that’s where the likeness ended. One was beautiful, gleaming fibreglass and plastic; the other was filthy aluminium. Johnny’s boat stayed in the water all the time. Because it was used almost every other day for fishing, the fish smell never quite had enough time to go away. While there were few instruments, each had a well-used look. The most important was a computer system Price had made. It combined the output from the other instruments into stunning screen images. With it, Johnny could almost measure and weigh the fish before he caught them.
Price fiddled with the system for a while, connecting some bits and loading files. When he’d finished, he had both TWIMP and the GPS bug visible on the screen. Both were unchanged.
The boat handled the chop easily. It never got anywhere fast, but it did get there. A couple of kilometres out they were joined by a group of dolphins. The intelligent mammals played in and out of the wake, just like children would — if they could swim that fast.
Price gave Johnny all the details. He left nothing out.
At the mention of kaweau, Johnny raised his eyebrows a bit, but said nothing. He’d heard stories about them since he was a kid. His grandfather claimed to have seen one many years ago, not far from Paradise. Anything was possible in that part of the bush. The story Price told him now made him even more determined to protect it from outside things like possum poison and tourists.
Then Price got to the part about Richardson advertising the kaweau on the Internet. Johnny became very angry.
“What a scumbag! Strutting around as if he’s a pillar of society, when all the time he’s destroying our heritage.” He slapped his hand on the tiller to relieve his feelings.
After that they motored in silence, each man thinking about the same thing.
Johnny finally broke it with: “Whoa! Have a look at this.” He w
as pointing at the computer screen.
Price moved to see. One of the land movement detectors had gone, and the danger level had jumped to extreme. He looked at the other half of the screen. The boat was still at the island.
“Can’t you go any faster?”
Johnny pushed the throttle forward and tied it with a bit of string. “There! That might make a difference But we’re still over an hour away.”
They looked at the island through the window. Nothing seemed to have changed. Maybe it was just an equipment failure. They could only hope — there was nothing else they could do.
Chapter 19
“Right,” said Richardson. “It’s time for you to tell us what you’ve been up to.”
They had retreated back from the vent and out of the gases. Both men were facing Robbie in a threatening way. Robbie remained silent.
“No? Then let me tell you.” He paused for effect. “You’ve broken a whole handful of New Zealand and international laws. First of all you obtained information illegally using a telephone. Then you used that information to commit further criminal acts by using my Internet service without permission. How am I going so far?”
Robbie stood tight-lipped, staring at the crater wall. He knew they were trying to find out how much he’d done. The longer he stayed quiet, the better.
“You see,” Richardson continued, “yesterday I tried to use my service and found you were using a modem on the line. So instead, I tried with my mobile, but found I was blocked out. When I complained, my provider said I was already logged on. Well, I knew I wasn’t. So, it wasn’t too hard to work out who was, was it?”
He stood staring at the boy for a while.
“At first, I thought it was just a naughty boy stealing time on the Internet. That was until I accessed my RANDES account. Now that’s a really special service. It’s also meant to be very secure. But, what do you think I found when I got there? Someone else had been using it.”