Roger quickly undressed and was appalled at what he saw in the mirror. His whole body seemed to be blotches of red and black on white where chafing and bruises had marked him. He felt utterly exhausted and his legs trembled.
Quickly he adjusted the temperature in the shower and stepped in.
Oh! Bliss! Aaah! It hurt!
First the water and then the soap stung his chafing and scratches. Then the stinging tree bite began to throb. Tears came to Roger’s eyes but he persevered and soaped himself. Slowly the sharpness went out of the pain and he seemed to itch all over. He washed the soap off then saw some shampoo on a shelf. For a moment he hesitated and then picked up the bottle.
As he was lathering his hair there was a knock at the door. Peter called, “Roger, do you want a hamburger or fish and chips? Constable Widmark is going to the shop to buy tea for the police.”
“Two hamburgers please.”
A few minutes later Roger had towelled himself dry, dressed in T-shirt and trousers, combed his hair and cleaned his fingernails and teeth. His whole body seemed to smart and glow but he felt much better.
Stephen knocked. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. I’m finished.” Roger replied. He gathered his belongings and went to the laundry.
Here he began tossing things into the washing machine, carefully emptying the pockets as he did. It was a chore he did at home and his mother had trained him well. He fished his plastic map case out of the trouser pocket and at once saw the signal in German.
‘Cripes. I’d better get this to the Inspector in case it’s important,’ he muttered. He shoved it into his waistband, turned the washing machine on and went to get the jacket. On going outside he was surprised to find it was now quite dark and that it was already getting quite cold. He picked up the jacket, closed the sliding door, and went upstairs. Here he found himself in a very pleasant lounge room; polished floor with rugs, leather settees and armchairs, sound equipment, TV and a bookshelf which had been emptied, its contents stacked against the wall.
Inspector Sharpe, the other detectives, plus Sergeant Grey and Peter and Stephen were there. Graham was in the shower. Stephen was on the phone and as Roger came in he handed it to Sergeant Grey. Inspector Sharpe was seated talking to Det Sgt Crowe. Roger hesitated, unsure whether he should be overhearing any of it.
Inspector Sharpe looked up. “Yes Roger? What is it?”
“Excuse me Sir. After you left I found this jacket, and this message was in the pocket.” He held them up.
Inspector Sharpe took the jacket and looked at it while Roger described where he had found it. DS Crowe pointed to the black metal badge with the silver ‘pip’ and silver edging.
“Untersturmfuhrer,” he said.
“Yes. Where’s that info sheet on the Iron Claw? What else have you got there Roger?”
“This message Sir. It appears to be in German.”
“That’s a bloody lot of good!” snorted Inspector Sharpe, taking the message. He looked at it, grunted and passed it to DS Crowe. “Anyone speak German? What about you kids? Do you learn it at school?” he asked as he looked at the Code Book and rough copy.
Stephen nodded and answered, “I do, and so does Graham, but we’ve already looked at it. It’s a bit beyond us. Maybe if we had a dictionary.”
Peter sat up. “Might be one among those books.” He went over to the bookshelf. Roger went to help him. As he knelt he and cried out in pain. “Ow! Ow! Aaah! Oooh! Cramp!” he moaned. He rolled on the carpet clutching his right leg. As always with a cramp the pain was so intense and sudden that it quite shocked him. Stephen pummelled it for a couple of minutes and the pain slowly subsided.
Peter pulled a book from the stack and held it up. “Here we are. A German-English Dictionary,” he said.
Stephen bent and picked up another book. “Look, here’s a ‘History of Kosaria’.”
While still lying on the floor massaging his leg, Roger looked. It was only a small book. On the black cover was a white eagle with a crown on its head being blasted in two by a yellow lightning bolt coming from a red star.
Stephen flicked through the pages. “It’s in English,” he said.
“Here’s Widmark with the food,” Inspector Sharpe said. “Here, you kids have a go at translating this for us.” He passed the message to Roger, who sat up.
Stephen picked up the dictionary. “Let me help,” he said.
“Have a bath first.”
“Yeah. OK. You phoned your Mum yet, Roger?”
“No,” Roger replied. He didn’t want to phone her. He was sure she would say he had to come home.
At that moment Constable Widmark walked in with a carton full of take-aways. Inspector Sharpe turned to the boys.
“You boys have your shower first, then eat. Roger, you phone your parents.”
“Yes Sir. I’ll just get my clothes out of the washing machine so someone else can use it,” Roger replied. Then he groaned because as he got up he found all his muscles had gone stiff. He had to hobble across the room and down the stairs.
Graham was in the laundry in shorts and T-shirt. “I’ve just chucked your stuff in the dryer Rog, to make room for mine. Has Captain Conkey arrived yet?”
“No. But the food has,” Roger replied. He turned and made his painful way back upstairs, followed by Graham. They got their hamburgers and went over to the sofa. Roger hadn’t realised how hungry he was and he devoured the two hamburgers in a few minutes. Then he sat back and wiped his mouth and fingers with a paper napkin.
“Ah. That’s better!” He leaned back and closed his eyes.
It was a horrible dream. The vines in the jungle kept reaching out to grab at him, to trip him up and to slow down his frantic flight. The men in black were getting closer. He ... He woke up to find Captain Conkey, dressed in civilian clothes, sitting opposite him.
Roger rubbed his eyes and sat up.
“Good sleep Roger?” Captain Conkey asked.
Roger blinked and looked around. Peter sat beside him reading the History of Kosaria. Graham and Stephen were seated at the table, heads together and writing. All the police had gone except Constable Widmark who also sat at the table, pen in hand.
Roger looked around for a clock. “What time is it? Have I been asleep long?”
Peter answered. “A couple of hours. It’s getting on for nine O’clock.”
Roger turned to Captain Conkey. “Have you been here long Sir?”
“Only half an hour. I’ll just wait till you’ve all been interviewed and for the Inspector to get back,” Captain Conkey answered.
“Where’s he gone Sir?”
“To Atherton to ask some questions I think.”
Constable Widmark came over and sat in an armchair, notebook on knee. “OK. Roger is it? I’ll get your statement now if I may.”
“Can I have a drink and go to the toilet first?”
“Sure.”
It took Roger over half an hour to make his statement and even then it was just a bare recounting of the facts. Captain Conkey listened attentively, half-horrified and half-pleased. He then said, “You lads have done very well; but CSM ...”
“Sir.”
“Didn’t you promise to keep out of trouble?”
Graham looked crestfallen. “Yes Sir. Sorry Sir. We did try.”
“It’s Roger’s fault Sir,” Stephen offered. “He kept crawling around the jungle finding things.”
By now Captain Conkey had heard the full story. He shook his head in wonder. Graham turned to him. “Can we go on with our hike Sir?”
“How far have you got?”
“About half way. We’ve got about fifty kilometres to go. We can do that in two days. We did half that much after lunch today.”
“I’ll ask the Inspector what he thinks. If there are more of these characters it could still be dangerous.”
“How Sir? We will go our own way now.”
Stephen spoke up. “You’ll have to ask my mum Sir. She isn’t very happy
about all this.”
At the mention of mothers Roger felt a twinge of guilt. He had avoided phoning his parents and he didn’t want to.
Captain Conkey tugged at his chin for a moment then asked, “Are you sure you want to go on?”
Graham nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Sir, we do; don’t we?” Graham cried, looking around at the others for support.
Peter spoke up at once. “I do.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah. May as well. If Mum will let me.”
“Roger?”
Roger would have dearly loved to say no. His aching muscles and tiredness all called on him to say so - but his pride would not let him. Even the moment’s hesitation had brought the beginnings of a sneer to Stephen’s lips.
“Yeah. I can do it.”
“Good on yer!” Graham commented.
Headlights flashed on the front windows and a car pulled up. Inspector Sharpe and DS Crowe came in.
“You got all the statements Constable?” Inspector Sharpe asked.
“Yes Sir.”
“Good. You can head off home.” He turned to the table. “How’s your translating going?”
“Bit slow Sir but we are getting there. It says..” Graham began.
Inspector Sharpe held up a hand. “Tell me when you’ve got it all.” He turned to Captain Conkey. “They’ve been an enormous help these lads, especially young Roger here.”
Roger flushed with embarrassment. Inspector Sharpe then turned to Peter. “Do you mind if I have a quick read of that book?”
“Here Sir. It’s quite fascinating,” Peter said. He passed the History book to the Inspector who sat down in an armchair. He said, “Get us some coffee Crowe. Do you want some Captain?”
“Thanks. Yes. Then I’d better be going if you don’t need me anymore. I’ve got to drive all the way to Cairns,” Captain Conkey replied.
“Are you happy your boys are OK? Do any of the parents want them to come home?” Inspector Sharpe asked.
To Roger’s surprise Captain Conkey said no. He said he had spoken to them all on the phone, even Roger’s mother, and assured them the boys were all safe. “The boys want to know if they can continue with their hike?”
Inspector Sharpe rubbed his chin. “They should be safe enough. I mean, it’s hard to imagine how there could be any more problems - involving them that is.”
“OK then. I’ll call all the parents again to see if that is alright,” Captain Conkey replied. He got up and went to the phone.
Roger struggled painfully to his feet and went to the kitchen. “I’ll make the coffee sergeant,” he offered.
“Good lad. You can help. See if there is sugar in there.”
They made coffee and carried it out. Roger joined Graham and Stephen at the table. Graham had printed out the German message in ink, in block letters, using every third line as they’d been taught to do in cadet signal training. On the second line he was printing in pencil the translations.
Stephen was thumbing through the dictionary and muttering to himself. “Wegweiser, Wegweiser. Umm..” He read what it said, “Signpost.”
Graham wrote it down then said. “OK. ‘Nahe zu das Strassenknottenpunkt’.”
“Strewth! What a mouthful. No wonder they lost the war. It took them so long to get their orders out,” Roger quipped.
Stephen sat up and spoke in a mimic of ‘War Comic’ German. “Ve did not lose der War! Ve came second!”
“That’ll do you idiots,” Graham laughed. “Nahe zu das!”
“Near to; near to the; near the ...now what the devil is a Strassenknottenpunkt?”
Roger leaned over to watch. Stephen turned the pages to ‘St’ and ran his finger down the column. “Strassen - Street. No ‘Strassenknottenpunkt’.”
“Don’t forget German often puts different words together,” Roger suggested.
“Shut up Roger. We know that. We’ve been at this for over an hour. Now, ‘knotten’.” Stephen began flicking over pages.
Roger felt a bit hurt. He was only trying to help. He looked up. Graham met his eye and smiled. “Here Roger, read this. It’s about the KSS.”
Roger took up the two page document and read it quickly, only half hearing Stephen saying “Street - Knotting - Point.”
“Road Junction,” Graham replied.
Roger turned the page and saw the second sheet was a page of diagrams of the KSS badges. He quickly scanned it and caught his breath. “Inspector Sharpe Sir. That old man, his rank badge says ‘Standartenfuhrer’. That’s a Colonel. He must be important.”
“You’re right Roger. We think he’s right up near the top. And our mate with the glasses, Mister, or I should say ‘Herr’ Jablonski is an ‘Untersturmfuhrer’, a 2nd Lieutenant. I think he is a Special Action Team Leader.”
“So why is the Colonel here? Are there more than one of these Action Teams at work?” Captain Conkey asked, coming over to look at the diagrams.
“Possibly, but I suspect not,” Inspector Sharpe replied. “From the information I have, their organisation is probably under strength. The Kosarian Embassy told me an hour ago that Klotovitch was a colonel during World War 2.”
Peter chuckled. “So he hasn’t been promoted in well over half a century,” he said.
“I hope I get promoted faster than that,” Roger said.
They all laughed. Inspector Sharpe went on, “It probably means they have just begun to rebuild their organization.”
That puzzled Roger so he asked, “But why Sir? What are they doing here in North Queensland?”
Inspector Sharpe took a sip from his coffee then said, “I wish I knew. Perhaps you can all spot a clue for me. I’ve just read bits of this.” He held up the History book, “and I don’t know if it’s important or not. I’ll read some of it to you and see if it rings any bells.”
CHAPTER 18
A SHORT HISTORY
Inspector Sharpe settled back and turned a few pages of the book. Captain Conkey finished his coffee and looked at his watch. “If you’ll excuse me Inspector. It’s ten thirty and I might just be home by midnight.”
“Certainly. Thank you for coming. I hope I won’t need to bother you again.”
Capt Conkey rolled his eyes. “So do I! Well, goodnight kids. Now this time, keep out of trouble!”
“Yes Sir,” the boys chorused.
Captain Conkey went out into the night and Inspector Sharpe began., “I won’t read this word for word. It’s too long and boring. I’ll just pick the main points. Now, you’ve all found Kosaria on the map? There’s the Atlas. You’ll find it wedged in there near Albania and Greece. It’s only a little place, about 100 km North-South and 150 km across. About one point two million people live there. 90% are Slavs, 8% are Greeks and 2% are Turks. 92% are Eastern Orthodox Christians, 5% are Roman Catholics and 3% are Moslems. Most speak Serbo-Croat, which is the official language. German is the second language and is taught in most schools - hopefully better than it’s taught here.”
Graham and Stephen pulled faces but said nothing at this little dig.
Inspector Sharpe went on, “It’s a poor country, all mountains and forests. Most of the people are peasant farmers and the capital city is only about half the size of Cairns – a population of about 65,000. It’s a primitive place. It still uses steam locos on the railway and mules and horse drawn wagons are common. Kosaria is the poorest country in Europe and has the last Communist Government in that part of the world - which doesn’t help the economy. But then you kids wouldn’t remember the Communists and what a threat they were when Russia had a Communist government.”
“Yes we do Sir. We learn about it at school,” Roger said.
Graham spoke up. “Peter’s grandparents. They were Russians and had to flee the country so the Communists wouldn’t shoot them.”
Inspector Sharpe eyed Peter with interest. “Is that so? Are they still alive?”
“Yes Sir. They live in Brisbane. Grandpa’s eighty and Omma’s seventy nine.”
&n
bsp; “That’s good. Now, let’s get back to Kosaria. The place used to be part of the Byzantine Empire. They were the last country in the Balkans to be conquered by the Turks. Apparently they withstood several attempts at invasion. I’ll read this bit.”
“Prince Theodore was prepared to submit, to the Turks that is, in 1457, but the Archbishop Joris persuaded him to fight. The small Kosarian army met a huge Turkish host in the Field of the Black Crows. The Turks attacked and quickly broke the Kosarian Centre. The Kosarian Standard Bearer was cut down and the Kosarians began to lose heart and give ground. Seeing this, Archbishop Joris rushed forward and picked up the flag. The Turks slashed and hacked at him with their scimitars. A terrible blow severed his right leg and he fell, but managed to keep the flag aloft.”
“Inspired by his example the Prince led a counter-attack. The Prince’s horse was killed and he fell heavily, losing his sword. The Turks closed in for the kill. Theodore seized the first thing which came to hand as he scrambled to his feet. It was the leg of Joris. With this he flailed the enemy and held them off.”
“The Kosarian soldiers rushed to the Prince’s aid and drove the Turks back. The Turkish general, Ahmed the Fat, was killed. Panic seized them and they fled. By then the Archbishop had died from lack of blood but his dead body still held the flag aloft.”
Stephen spoke up, “Strewth! What a gory tale.”
“Yes, isn’t it? There’s more to follow,” said Inspector Sharpe. He went on, “Archbishop Joris was canonized as a Saint. His thigh bone became a holy relic. It was preserved in a case made of gold and glass and was placed on the altar of the Cathedral in Dragavia. That’s the capital city.”
“Sir, Sir!” Roger called excitedly. “That’s what the men are looking for: the thigh bone of St Joris!”
Inspector Shape smiled. “Maybe Roger. But listen, there’s more. Ten years later the Turks tried again but were again defeated in a battle at the Pass of Monastria by Prince Michael Dragabog, who carried the thigh bone of St Joris into battle.”
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