Fire Eye

by Peter d’Plesse

  Jed can see a group of three squatted around a camp fire and watches as they stand in anticipation of the landing. Behind them he can see Thor, head down and nibbling quietly among the vegetation. As the chopper settles and the rotors wind down, the group move closer in expectation. He has to wait until Billy climbs out and moves around to the left to help him get Charcoal out before he can extract himself from the back seat. Billy and Jed support Charcoal between them and go to join the others.

  Charcoal looks Alex in the eyes. “You made it Alice!”

  “Yeah, we made it,” Alex responds. “It was a bit of a ride!”

  “Yeah, t’is!” Charcoal replies as they lay him on a swag in the shade of the trees. “Glad you made it Alice. Didn’t doubt you’d make it,” he says decisively. Memories of his own ride flash through his mind. He almost died on that one and hadn’t been pushed for time like Alex.

  “I know what you went through,” Alex says. She grasps his hand with the mutual respect of two riders who have shared a horse and an experience.

  “He’s a good horse,” Charcoal says from the luxury of the swag’s mattress.

  “He’s the best!” Alex confirms. Then she runs her hand over Charcoal’s forehead. “How you doing?”

  “A lot better now!” Charcoal says, enjoying the sensation of her hand playing over his skin.

  Jed and Johnny appear with the first aid kit and settle down next to Charcoal. “I can get you coffee and something to eat,” Johnny offers Jed.

  “That’d be great!” Jed replies as he picks out what he needs from the kit. “I could eat a horse! Sorry Thor!” he adds as the horse neighs, finding a good titbit among the scrub.

  “Be back soon,” Johnny promises as he scuttles back to the fire. Something unusual is going on and while he is unsure about where things are heading, he knows how he can contribute. By the time Jed has cleaned Charcoal’s wounds, strapped his chest and wrist, bandaged his leg and got painkillers into him, Johnny is back with the promised coffee and egg and bacon sandwiches. They sit around Charcoal, each with a coffee, while Jed and Charcoal get stuck into the sandwiches and savour the taste of pan-fried eggs and bacon.

  “Those ridges looked tough!” Jed says to Alex, appraisingly.

  “Thor did well,” Alex responds with a touch of coolness.

  Jed can’t pick how she feels about him. She is avoiding any mention of her own efforts.

  They all look at her. They respect her all the more for her modesty and acknowledge the mutual understanding in shared glances.

  “We’ll have you taken care off soon,” Andy says to Charcoal.

  “I’m do’n alright. I reckon there might be some things to do before that,” Charcoal hints, looking at Jed.

  Jed stalls for time, putting his coffee down and picking up a stick. “This is where we parted company with Decker,” he says as he scratches a cross into the ground. “This is where we are and this is the homestead. Decker and his kid are heading out this way,” he adds as he draws a line in the dirt. “He’s bad news and has to be stopped. Once he gets off the property he can disappear. He’s carrying passports with different identities and no doubt has a good alibi set up. He’s a bastard but a clever one! There’s a risk he may go to the homestead,” he adds further.

  They all look at him, knowing there is something more. Jed tells them why he and Alex came and what they had found and not found in the plane. “There’s unfinished business between Decker and Alex,” he adds cautiously.

  “They already know,” Alex says. Jed looks at each of them in turn. Their expressions reveal they know a lot more than he has told them and also show respect for the fact he hasn’t held anything back.

  “Bastard!” Andy snaps, capturing the feelings of Billy and Johnny and confirming Jed’s judgement.

  “Can’t disagree with that!” Charcoal agrees. “What’d you have in mind?” he asks Jed.

  After a contemplative silence, Jed verbalises his plan. “I’d like Billy to fly me back, pick up the track out and find Decker before he gets to the homestead. I want to stop the bastard in his tracks. When that’s done, it’ll be easier for the police to round them up.”

  Everyone looks at Jed. The gaze of Charcoal and Alex is more intense. Jed knows Charcoal is wondering whether Jed has forgotten the intent of the story he told and the information Alex has shared. Jed knows Charcoal recognises the moral dilemma he faces and that he is reaching for a compromise.

  Alex’s gaze is something else. It gives no hint of what she really thinks. It seems appraising. Very appraising indeed!

  “How do you propose to stop him?” Billy asks practically.

  This is the key question and Jed sizes him up before responding. “I’d need you to fly a low pass at low speed to put me in a position to get some hits on the radiator or tyres of their vehicle.” Seeing Billy’s raised eyebrows, he adds, “I know about the fifty knots at one hundred and fifty rule.”

  For the R44 there is a standard rule not to go below fifty knots airspeed under one hundred and fifty feet altitude in case of an engine failure. This restriction allows a pilot to get the nose down so that airflow can keep the rotors turning for an auto-rotation landing that might be survivable.

  Billy’s pursed lips and silence show he is thinking it through. He will be placing the chopper in a vulnerable position against someone armed and dangerous. “I can do that,” he responds carefully. “Not for long, mind you. I can do it for a few seconds, but I’ll be getting out fast!”

  “Understood!” Jed replies with respect. Billy has weighed up the odds and made a gutsy decision. “All I need are a few seconds low and slow and then you can bug out and drop me nearby. I’ll need you to simulate two other landings out of sight to confuse things a bit as well.” If he is going to be forced to waste anyone, he’d prefer to be alone.

  “Billy will drop us both and we will stop Decker together!” Alex snaps, leaving no room for debate.

  Jed looks her in the eyes and sees no room to manoeuvre on that point. He doesn’t bother putting up an argument. The last twenty-four hours has demonstrated she has the guts and sense to do as well as any of them. “He can drop us both and we will finish this business,” he agrees in a tone that leaves room for more than one solution to the problem.

  Billy turns to Charcoal, who simply nods. Andy also nods in agreement. Johnny takes the lead from the other two and nods eagerly as well. “I’m happy with that,” Billy says, tipping the remaining drops of his coffee onto the ground. “If we don’t find them and they’re not at the homestead, we come back and fly Charcoal out. Davey can look after himself. If we spot him, we’ll drop in.”

  They all agree, but Jed senses a determination among the four drovers that leaves him wondering whether he has been left out of a group decision. The killing of Joe and attempted killing of Charcoal has crossed a boundary that puts Decker outside the accepted rules of justice. Nothing is spoken but there is some kind of shared agreement. They are direct men who work hard and understand the importance of trust and respect. A man like Decker undermines both of these qualities and violates their outback values regarding women.

  “Let’s get organised,” Billy announces decisively. “Give me five to check the chopper and we’ll get airborne,” he adds. They all rise together.

  Jed reaches into his pocket, takes out a single round of .45 and gives it to Alex. “I kept one as a spare, just in case.”

  Alex takes it from him, reloads the Colt with confident movements and tucks it back into her belt in a way that impresses the men standing around her. “That gives us six rounds in total.” Jed notices she doesn’t offer to give the Colt back to him.

  Andy beckons Jed over to the Toyota, opens the glove box and takes out a revolver. He passes it to Jed. “That’s for you.”

  Jed takes the revolver and opens the cylinder to check the load.

  “Only got four rounds. Use it on injured cattle sometimes. A good, reliable gun,” Andy says with the affection that comes
from long familiarity.

  “I can’t take this. It belongs to you and, if things go bad, you could have some explaining to do.”

  “That belongs to no one,” Andy confides. “Left over from the war. Belongs to whoever holds it. Might be about time it’s used for what it’s meant for.”

  Jed recognises the revolver as a Webley and Scott Mk VI in .455 calibre. Dating from World War I, many were resurrected for service in the second great conflict as it stood up well to the mud and dirt of warfare. It was a reliable gun but had been replaced by a smaller .38 calibre model that was easier to use because of its lesser recoil. He knows it throws a two hundred and sixty grain projectile at six hundred and fifty feet per second to give a rainbow trajectory but excellent short-range stopping power. He’s already looked around and concluded the boys aren’t carrying any rifles. Given what he and Alex are heading into, any extra firepower is welcome.

  He closes the cylinder, making sure a loaded chamber is in the correct position, and tucks it into the small of his back. It weighs a good kilogram but his belt keeps it secure at an angle that allows it to be withdrawn smoothly. He pulls it out to make sure before tucking it back again. Its hefty presence gives him a comforting sense of security. “Appreciate it! I’ll get it back to you,” he promises.

  They gather around the chopper as Billy finishes taking the left-hand door off. Andy and Johnny place it carefully in the back of the Toyota. While they strap themselves in, Billy works through his take off checks again with self-imposed discipline. As the rotors start to turn, Andy and Johnny clear the area. Nothing has been said but as the machine lurches its way into the air, Andy lifts his hand in a wordless salute. Jed sees Charcoal also lift his hand and the eyes of the black and white men meet across an expanse of red soil that does not hide the shades of grey they both know exist. Johnny waves his farewell instead, like an airport send off.

  Chapter Eighty

  “What the fuck you think you’re doin’? You’ve got a fuck’n brain, so why don’t you use it!”

  Decker’s attack spears through Jesse’s heart. For the first time ever, his father’s words push him toward tears. He hides them by jerking his head to the side. The Nissan is well and truly stuck. Its wheel slipped into a washout cut by the last wet season rains on the edge of a channel. It is tilted untidily to the right with its sump, gearbox and drive shaft resting on the ground. Even low range won’t budge it as the wheels spin uselessly without traction. The only option is to jack it up and dig away at the ridge of hard ground under the vehicle. A bastard of a job!

  Decker’s explosive outburst clears his mind. He instantly regrets it, but there is no apology. Frustrated, he tries to make amends by changing his tone. “I know you didn’t mean it Jess. It’s just a bastard waste of time. Grab the jack and shovel and let’s get to work!”

  Jesse still feels bad. His father trusted him to drive and he failed him. His dad’s conciliatory tone does little to placate his sense of failure. He sets to the task with renewed energy, determined to make amends. Working alongside his father reminds him of all the good times they have shared together. He knows he will never be as good as his father at anything but always tries his best to be worthy of him.

  Decker wrestles the jack into position and starts levering the Nissan off the ground. He peers underneath to check the clearance and then levers it higher as Jesse starts chipping away at the ridge of dirt that clawed the vehicle to a stop. Decker feels something gnawing away inside him but can’t identify what it is. He works the jack automatically as he wrestles with the unknown thing inside him. The collapse of the jack catches him by surprise. The Nissan drops suddenly, rolling the jack backward and jamming it between the sill and the wheel.

  “Fuck!” Jesse snaps in shock as he jerks his arm out from under the vehicle.

  “Shit!” Decker snaps in turn as he stands up and slams his boot into the side of the Nissan. “Shit, shit, shit!” The base of the jack has broken through the hard surface layer and let the vehicle roll back. He should have put a decent base under the jack. Too bloody late! “Bloody good thing we wasn’t fuck’n under that!” he spits and kicks the door again in frustration.

  When his exploding emotions clear, it dawns on him what has been eating away inside him. Mistakes! Bloody, fuck’n mistakes! It started the morning he’d blasted the ponce’s empty swag. Something had alerted them. That bloody Joe stuffed things up as well! Should’ve done the black prick and his brother earlier and taken care of things his own way.

  He has always taken pride in his attention to detail. Taking care of the little things always kept him safe and secure, except when the bitch set him up and lied in court. She’d got him good that time but she’s paid for it. Too fuck’n fast for his liking, but she’s paid! Now there is only the ponce and that bit of fun will come when Decker is ready. Now he just wants out of this arsehole of a place, but first they have to drop in on the homestead for a bit of a look. Check things out his way. A bit of extra fun won’t go astray before they disappear.

  “Sorry Jess me boy!” he finally admits. “Got a bit frustrated there. It’s been one damn fuck’n thing after another this trip. Didn’t mean to bite your head off! Wasn’t your fault. Just this fuck’n track. Let’s get this thing out of here pronto!”

  The words are music to Jesse’s ears. His father has acknowledged he isn’t at fault. His spirit soars. “It’s a prick of a job but we’ll get it done. You get the jack back in place and I’ll dig.” Joy sings again in his heart.

  Decker likes the way his son just spoke, just like the man he’s always hoped he’d be. “We can do this Jess,” he encourages. “We’ll get this thing moving and have a bit of fun before we hit the road home.”

  Jesse’s heart swells with love and his guts turn with the anticipation of what his father promises.

  Side by side, they get to work, a father and son team focussed on a common purpose.

  Chapter Eighty-one

  Jed eyes the red landscape passing underneath them as the rotors hammer the air into submission in a continuous beat almost hypnotic in its pulsating rhythm. Their headphones dull the noise but cannot tame the pounding thud of each blade as it slices the air above the cabin or the roar of the engine close behind their heads. The complex vibrations of the chopper dance through their bodies in a random, sensory rhythm. Cradling the Colt in his lap, Jed contemplates what they are about to attempt.

  His mind drifts back to the deer culling days in New Zealand, low-level flying through the snow-clad mountains and along steep-sided valleys where the blades of the chopper flickered dangerously close to rugged rock faces. Back then he used a rifle. This time he has the Colt Alex surrendered to stop Decker continuing his hate-fuelled journey of revenge. Surrendered too easily, Jed thinks, then chides himself for even thinking it. Don’t judge the woman so readily he scolds himself. She knows the skills we each have, so trust her. It is one thing to trust and delegate to his staff. It is something else to trust in the uncertain world removed from civilisation. Trust her and use her to best advantage, he tells himself, then thrusts the guilty thoughts aside.

  “When we find them, I’ll need a descending turn to the left across the front of the vehicle. No more than thirty metres out and a few feet off the ground,” he says into the intercom.

  “Can’t you give me something a bit harder?” Billy challenges with a confident smile as he looks across at Jed.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard for a cattle musterer like you!” Jed jokes in return. Both know it will be a demanding bit of flying. “I can’t guarantee any hits past thirty metres,” he adds with careful honesty.

  “I’ll get you in as close as possible, but I won’t be hanging around!” Billy promises.

  “Don’t need long for a double tap! Just a clear shot.” Jed swings the Colt up and down a few times to practise the sight picture. The front sight on the Colt Government is rudimentary but he knows it shoots straight. The only sign of nerves he displays is the way he keeps snug
gling the big pistol’s grip into the web of flesh between his thumb and finger so the barrel forms an extension of his forearm. It will be instinctive shooting, demanding recall of all the lessons from twenty years of competition pistol shooting.

  “Down there is where I picked you up this morning,” Billy says as he points through the windscreen down to his left.

  “The track is over that way!” Alex announces, pointing from behind them.

  Billy turns the machine to the right and tracks along the faint scar of wheel marks threading their way among the trees and scrub. “We’ll cruise at one thousand five hundred feet to get a good view and not alert them too early,” he explains as he throttles back to reduce noise.

  Even at reduced airspeed they are covering ground a lot faster than any four-wheel drive scrabbling its way through the terrain below. Jed turns around and looks Alex in the eyes. “You okay? How you feeling?” he asks with genuine concern.

  His concern bounces off the personal shield of protection surrounding her like an invisible aura. “I’m fine!” she replies, her emotions camouflaged by the scratch of the intercom. “I just want to get this business finished for good!”

  Jed understands the words but the look in her eyes is fathomless. He searches for any of the mischievous or sensual sparks he has found so alluring. There is nothing. No fear, anger, worry, concern or excitement. What he sees may be tension, courage or determination, he can’t identify which. Even the set of her mouth and lips is unfamiliar to him. Its very uncertainty sends a shiver up his spine. He is left with the question, Where has Alex gone?