by Pam Harvey
Hannah found herself stepping forwards. ‘There are security tapes that need to be checked. A new security system has just been installed, and—’
‘Young lady,’ Mrs Hastings bristled. ‘All the appropriate action by both the staff here and the local police is being undertaken.’
‘And has anything been found?’ The young reporter stole a brief look at her producer, who gave her the thumbs-up. He sensed a story was unfolding.
‘I’m not at liberty to say. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’
‘My friend Gabby has gone missing. She was last seen here at the library,’ Hannah said, staring at the blond-haired reporter. She swallowed, wondering if the interview was going live into thousands of people’s homes.
‘And who are you?’ the reporter said, throwing another glance at her producer. He nodded then whispered something to the cameraman.
‘Um, well my name is Hannah. My friend Ling here was at the exhibition opening and her cousin, Gabby, was with her. But Gabby left early and we found her sunglasses down in the offices.’
Ling stepped forwards, pulling the sunglasses out of her pocket. The camera zoomed in on them.
‘So, this girl, Gabby, was last seen inside the library?’
‘Yes.’
From the corner of her eye, Hannah noticed Mrs Hastings move quietly back to the library entrance. The producer followed her. They stopped to talk by the main entrance.
‘Okay, kids, listen up,’ the reporter said, moving the microphone down. ‘This is serious stuff. Are the police aware of all this?’
‘No,’ Hannah said.
‘Well, here’s your moment.’ The reporter nodded towards an approaching police car. ‘They’re either here to clear us out or to investigate the robbery.’
A police officer climbed out of the car. ‘You must all make your way to the community centre,’ she said. ‘The people in the centre are being taken out in buses while the main road east is still open. We need to check that this building is empty. Is the library unlocked?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Mrs Hastings said vaguely, looking about as if she’d lost something.
‘You’d think she’d be a bit happier to see the police here,’ Ling whispered.
Hannah nodded then walked over to the reporter, who was now packing away her microphone.‘We were in the library, looking for our friends. We found nothing but a pair of sunglasses but I overheard a phone conversation. It was a man talking to Mrs Hastings.’
‘I think you need to tell all this to the police,’ the reporter said.
‘Wait.’ Hannah pressed on. ‘It sounded secret. She said everything was under control, and that someone can be used to their advantage. I think she was meaning Gabby. She said that the couriers won’t be in touch till later, and something about a hut. Then she mentioned a buyer from Morocco and whether contact had been made. And then she laughed.’
‘That sounds very strange,’ said the reporter, a look of doubt on her face.
‘Do you know where Derwent is?’
‘Derwent?’
‘I’m not sure but it could be the name of the place where the brooch is. Is it a city?’
‘I’m not sure. No, I don’t think so.’ The reporter frowned. ‘This is all very peculiar. We’re actually here to cover the fires, so we have to stick to that at the moment. Talk to the police about your missing friend and then get to the community centre.’
‘Time to move on, everyone,’ a man called, leaning out his car window. ‘This fire is moving fast.’
‘That girl’s going back inside,’ the reporter said as she finished packing up their gear.
‘Hannah!’ Ling cried, watching as Hannah rushed back into the library. The policewoman went after her. Mrs Hastings paused and then hurried in as well, Ling hot on her heels.
CHAPTER 11
King was keen to gallop. All day he’d been in his paddock watching the truck coming and going, watching the other horses being put in the paddocks. The air smelt strange; everything was different. When Angus leaped on his back, King took off like he was on the racetrack. He swerved around the open gate, nearly unseating his rider.
‘Hang on, King.’ Angus leaned over the horse’s neck, stroking him firmly. ‘Save your energy. We’ll catch him.’ He steered the gelding up the driveway and onto the road.
In front of them, the young chestnut colt was galloping out of control. Angus could tell by the way its head was up and its tail was high that it was still frightened. Maybe the sound of the other horse behind it was making things worse but Angus couldn’t help that. He kept thinking about his dad risking his life to save the horse.
At the bottom of the road was a T-intersection. To the left, the road twisted and turned back to the town of Teasdale. To the right, the road was gravel, and snaked its way towards Golden Ridge. Angus bit his lip and pushed King harder. If he could get the colt to turn left, the tangle of houses and properties and fences might slow it down. But if it turned right, it might disappear into the open country and then the bush.
King put on a burst of speed and slowly they gained on the colt. But they weren’t quick enough. It reached the intersection, veered violently to the right and galloped off in the direction of the hills—and the thick bush.
Swearing, Angus turned King to the right. The road was rougher and they had to slow down. Sweat was breaking out on the horse’s neck, and his coat felt hot and sticky under Angus’ legs. The heat was already unbearable, and they were getting hotter. Angus nearly pulled his horse up. What was he thinking? He was risking his own horse’s health for the sake of someone else’s untried racehorse.
All of a sudden, the young horse propped in the middle of the road. It reared, swerved again, and cantered off on the grassy verge. On the hot dirt road in front of King and Angus was a long brown snake, head up and ready to strike. The colt had scared it in its travels and now it was angry. Before they could stop, the horse and the boy were on it.
King did the best he could. He leaped high, jumping the snake like it was a large log. Angus crouched over his neck, watching the brown head as it reared then lashed out at King. Had the snake sunk its fangs into the horse’s lower leg? King landed heavily on the road and kept galloping. Angus gave a sob. If the snake had bitten the horse, the pounding of his blood would sweep the poison through King’s body in no time at all. Even if he stopped him right now, it would probably be too late. He tried anyway, hauling on the lead rope that he’d tied quickly to King’s headstall, but the horse didn’t slow. Instead King wrenched hard at the rope, ripping it out of Angus’ hands, causing it to unravel where Angus had tied it. Now the rope dangled down out of the boy’s reach.
The colt came back onto the road, galloping at full flight. King followed. Angus leaned as far forwards as possible to try and grab the rope, but he couldn’t get it. All he could do was hang on and hope the horse slowed soon.
They were near the end of open farmland, where the fences disappeared and the bush began. It was thick bush too, that hadn’t been cleared since early settler days. A decade ago, the state government had declared it a regional park and had stopped woodcutting and any other destructive activities. The trees were thick and the scrubby shrubs made a coarse underlayer. Surely the colt would keep to the road.
It didn’t. Something made the young horse leave the road and follow a kangaroo track into the bush. Maybe it was the chance to run in the shade, away from the heat of the bare gravel road. Or maybe it thought it would be safer among the trees. Whatever the reason, it turned and King followed.
They seemed to go for ages, winding in and out of trees and rocks, making their way further and further up the hill. Angus lost any sense of where he was. Every time he tried to look up, twigs snapped on his face. He kept low on King’s neck and waited for the hill to get the better of the bolting animal.
Finally the track narrowed, and low-hanging branches swiped at the horses as they passed. At least it made the colt slow down. The young horse went quickly from a
gallop to a fast trot and then at last, as a large branch blocked the track, to a walk. King slowed as well and Angus could grab the dangling rope. King didn’t protest as he was pulled to a stop, his flanks heaving. The young horse in front of him stopped too.
Angus slipped from King’s back. Branches scratched him as he jumped down, and his knee jarred when he landed on the ground. He was ferociously hot and desperately thirsty but the chance of finding any water seemed pretty remote in the dry, baking bush. Carefully, he ran his hand down each of King’s legs looking for puncture marks, but the gelding’s legs were clean. Angus rested his head on the big horse’s neck and sighed. ‘Lucky, King. That was really close.’
Now for the young colt. Angus draped King’s lead rope over the gelding’s neck, confident that he wouldn’t stray far, then approached the young colt. It shivered as he reached out a hand to rub along its neck but stayed still, letting Angus catch hold of its headstall.
‘So, here we are,’ whispered Angus to the horse. ‘In the middle of the bush, without any water, while a fire swirls in around us.’
The bush was quiet except for the sounds of cicadas. Heat rose from the ground and radiated from the hot bodies of the horses. But Angus was grateful for one thing: there wasn’t any smoke. The sky above them may have been hazy and yellow, yet he couldn’t smell anything that indicated the fire was close.
‘We need to get out of here.’ Angus turned to King and the horse pricked his ears at him. ‘Any idea where we are, King?’
The horse took a step towards him and Angus reached over to unclip the lead rope. He reclipped it on the young horse’s headstall and led it out into a small clearing. King followed and stood waiting patiently.
Angus thought hard. This area was unfamiliar to him. Sometimes he rode King over this way but they always kept to the tracks. He was pretty sure they’d never been this far up the hill. The bush was too thick to see where they were; all Angus saw when he looked around was more trees. They were well and truly lost.
But maybe they weren’t. Horses were meant to be good at finding their way home. Angus had heard stories of bushmen lost in the high country letting their horses take the lead, and those same horses eventually making their way home with their riders safely on their backs. He looked over at King. Maybe his horse knew the way home.
There was only one way to find out. Keeping the young horse on the lead, Angus used a tree stump to climb onto King’s back. The horse started walking as soon as the boy was on, the colt following meekly behind. Angus didn’t say anything and was careful to keep his legs loose on King’s side so that the horse wasn’t being guided at all.
King kept following the hill upwards. Sometimes he was on an animal track but sometimes he left it to step directly through the bush. A couple of times they had to stop to untangle the lead rope from a branch but as soon as that was done, the big horse walked on. Angus didn’t make a sound, hoping desperately that King knew where he was heading. Going up the hill didn’t feel right to the boy but he had decided to trust the horse wherever he took them.
The heat got worse as they went. Both horses snorted frequently as they walked, shaking their heads free of flies. With each footstep, dust rose, making Angus cough. Finding it hard to breathe through his nose, he kept his mouth open, and wondered how long they could continue without a drink.
Just when he thought he would have to stop King and turn him around—surely they couldn’t keep going up the hill?—the horse stopped himself. Angus looked up. Through the trees ahead, something glinted. Something brown. And wet. A dam!
Angus gave King a nudge with his calves and they trotted around the last trees and straight into the water. The cool, dark wet soaked through Angus’ jeans and he slid off King’s back and under the water. It was a dark dam, full of tannin from gum leaves, but Angus thought it tasted amazing. He came up out of the water like a cork, making King snort and the young colt jump. Angus just laughed. ‘It isn’t home, King, but it’s good enough for the moment!’
They spent nearly ten minutes in the water, Angus floating on his back until he was cold, the horses happy to stand belly-deep and drink. Gradually, the problem of getting home loomed again in his mind and Angus staggered out of the dam and sat on the bank, rivers of water running out of his clothes.
That’s when he saw the hut. It was directly in front of the dam and blended in with the bush. Angus could tell, though, that it had been built fairly recently because a pile of cut-down branches was stacked behind it, the edges of the wood marked with chainsaw teeth. It wasn’t an early pioneer’s hut although it had been fashioned out of bark and logs. Best of all, a wide bush track led away from it, pointing the way down the hill to home.
Angus left the horses and ran around the edge of the dam. He made his way through a stand of gum trees and stood at the door of the hut. ‘Derwent’s Hut,’ he read out aloud.
And nearly died when he heard a voice.
‘Angus? Thank God you’re here!’
CHAPTER 12
Hannah hurried over to a tourist information stand in the library’s foyer, pulled something from the rack, and stuffed it in her pocket, all the while thinking about the security tape. Mrs Hastings didn’t seem to have thought of it. If Hannah could just remember the code and extract the tape then she might have some solid evidence on who had taken the brooch.
Ling, Mrs Hastings and the police officer came in the door.
‘Officer, I’m not sure what these children are up to, but I think it’s high time that they left. There’s only one last box of artefacts I want to take, just in case something happens to the building.’
Hannah stole a look at Mrs Hastings. ‘Maybe you should try and find the tape from the security cameras. They might have filmed the theft taking place.’ Hannah watched Mrs Hastings lick her lips.
‘What do you know about the security tapes?’
‘Well, my father installed the whole system about two months ago. Amy told me it was because so many books get stolen.’
‘Amy?’ the police officer asked.
‘She’s a staff member here,’ Mrs Hastings said. ‘Look, there will be time to look at the tapes later. When we’re safe.’
Hannah pressed on. ‘You need to know a code to get the tape out.’
‘Yes, I know that.’ But Mrs Hastings cast an anxious look towards the back of the library. It was obvious to Hannah that she didn’t know about the security code.
The policewoman put her radio to her ear and listened intently before moving forwards. ‘Okay, we can talk about this later. Most of the buses have left. We are going now.’
Shouts came from outside the library. About a dozen firefighters, armed with hoses and other equipment, were rushing across the parkland behind the library.
‘Let’s go! Let’s go!’ a firefighter called, waving his arms at the group standing inside the library.
The policewoman bundled them outside, directing Hannah and Ling towards her car. Mrs Hastings went to the other police car. Hannah turned to watch the firefighters and gasped as a bush on the far side of the park burst into flames. Two firemen swung their enormous hose towards the bush and a volley of water doused the flames within seconds.
‘Girls, hop in the car. Now!’ the constable ordered. The girls slid into the back seat. The policewoman flicked a switch and picked up a microphone.
‘We’ve got spot fires starting in Campbell Park,’ she said. ‘I’m bringing in two young females then I’ll head back and evacuate anyone else from the area.’
‘Roger that,’ a voice replied.
‘Now, what’s going on?’ The policewoman looked at the frightened girls through her rearview mirror. ‘What are you guys up to?’
‘Our friend is missing. She may still be in the library.’
‘There’s no one in the library. Mrs Hastings has checked and double-checked the entire building. What’s your friend’s name?’
‘Gabby Hunter,’ Ling said.
‘Okay, hang on.�
� The policewoman flicked a switch behind the steering wheel. ‘This is C24, do you copy?’
‘We’ve got you, C24. What’s up?’
‘I want you to file an MP on Gabby Hunter. Location: Teasdale library area. Last seen within two hours prior to 14:00 hours. Description to follow.’ She pressed the same switch and turned to the girls. ‘Can you provide a detailed description of Gabby for me? What she was wearing. Age. Any features.’
Ling nodded.
‘Okay. Go.’
‘Gabby is 13 years old. She’s wearing a white singlet top and knee-length blue denim shorts. She is tall and has blond hair.’
‘Okay, well done, girls.’
‘C24 to Command Centre: we have those details,’ a voice crackled through a small speaker.
The driver turned right and looked again at the girls. ‘I’m sure she’ll be okay. That message will get through to all the SES and firefighting crews operating in the area as well as every police patrol car and unit.’
‘I think Mrs Hastings knows more than she’s letting on,’ Hannah said, staring through the car window. Although it was dark, she could make out tiny bits of ash and soot floating in the air.
‘We’ve got one of our officers looking into the case, but as you can imagine, we’re pretty tied up with this brute of a fire at the moment.’
The police car pulled up in front of the community centre. ‘Take these,’ the police officer said, handing the girls two water bottles. ‘Remember to keep drinking. And don’t wander off again. The mobile phone network is breaking up and pretty unreliable and it’s getting harder to keep in contact with everyone. Are your parents in here?’
‘No, they’re caught up outside town and can’t get in at the moment.’ Hannah opened the door.
‘Well, make sure you report to the officials and get on that last bus. You’ve done the right thing by reporting your friend missing. We’ll find her.’