Gwen let out a little cry. “Oh, I know where we are,” she cried. “We come here for barbeques and swims.”
“Yes, it is the Ross and Locke Picnic area,” Graham replied.
Joy looked around with open wonder on her face. “Isn’t it pretty!” she said.
Peter had to agree it was. The tramline went across the river on a low wooden bridge. From the highway up on their right a gravel road led down through a belt of trees to cross the tramline just before it went onto the bridge. The gravel road crossed the river on a short concrete bridge just downstream of the tram bridge. Upstream was a wide, deep pool. Steep, forested slopes rose beyond this.
“Plenty of people. We should be safe,” Gwen commented with relief. She was right. At a glance Peter counted six cars and at least twenty people, mostly families having a good time. Small children were playing on the road bridge. People were swimming, canoeing and lazing around.
“Safe for the moment,” Joy agreed.
Graham kept walking. “Let’s see if any of them has mobile phone reception so we can call the police,” he said.
That reminded Peter: “Oh, Sir Richard, you might try to use yours again.”
“My what?” Sir Richard answered.
“Your mobile phone,” Peter replied.
At that comment Sir Miles turned and looked hard at Sir Richard and a frown crossed his brow. “I didn’t know you still had your mobile phone Sir Richard.”
“Yes, I have,” Sir Richard replied. “I thought you knew.”
Sir Miles frowned again. “Those blasted Devil Worshippers took mine yesterday. I thought they also took yours,” he said.
Sir Richard shook his head. “No. They must have missed it.” With that he reached into his pocket and took out a mobile phone. He tapped the keys and held it to his ear. After a moment he looked at the display and shook his head. “No service.”
Peter watched him do this and then shook his head. Something wasn’t quiet right but he couldn’t decide what so he continued walking.
By then they were at the end of the road bridge. The small children there looked at them curiously. Joy gave them a cheery greeting and they became all embarrassed and jumped into the water. This flowed shallow and crystal clear under the two bridges, to tumble down a long set of gentle rapids under trees on the downstream side.
“Oh this is a lovely spot,” Megan commented. “What about a swim?”
“Good idea, but we must contact the police first,” Graham agreed. He kept on walking and led the way onto the short road bridge. As they did a car came from the other end, crammed with picnickers on their way home.
Graham stood in the middle of the bridge to stop it. He leaned in the driver’s window. “Excuse me, have you got a mobile phone?” he asked.
The driver, a middle-aged man, shook his head.
“Then could you please take a message to the police for us?” Graham asked.
At the mention of police the man frowned. “I suppose so. What is it?”
“Could you tell them that it is the cadets that were up Walshs Pyramid yesterday and that…er… that we have something very important to tell them. Make sure Inspector Goldstein gets the message. And please hurry, it is urgent.”
The man looked doubtful then agreed. Graham stood aside and the car drove on. The group walked on to the far end of the bridge. On the left was a toilet block and barbeques. On the right was an open area with three cars parked and more people swimming and lying around.
“Will we ask them as well?” Peter suggested.
“Oh, one message should be enough,” Graham replied. “We don’t want to bother a lot of people and start a panic.”
The group walked another twenty metres and stopped at the point where the gravel road re-crossed the tramline to run along beside it on the right. The tramline and road went on north westwards with a steep, tree covered bank on the left and the open grassy picnic area and river on the right.
Megan looked at the river. “That water certainly looks inviting,” she said. “Can’t we stop now? We should be safe with all these people here.”
Peter looked around, then pointed. “That is the highway just across at the other side of the river.”
“So?” Gwen asked.
“So one of those Devil Worshippers had a rifle with telescopic sights.”
Joy sucked in her breath in alarm. “Oh they wouldn’t dare!”
Peter didn’t want to scare her, but Stephen answered for him: “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Sir Richard frowned. “It’s a long way,” he commented.
Graham shook his head. “No it’s not. It is only a hundred metres or so. That is nothing to a sniper. They can hit people at five or six hundred metres.”
“How do you know he is a sniper?” Gwen countered.
Graham shrugged. “I don’t, but do you want to risk it? I think we should go a bit further and stop out of sight,” he said.
There was some grumbling but Peter supported Graham. Now that he thought about it he had no desire to stop right out in a large open area.
They continued walking along beside the tramline.
“Where does this go?” Joy asked.
“To Little Mulgrave,” Graham replied. “Where we are supposed to end up. It crosses the river again at another bridge just ahead, then goes on for about another kilometre. There is a junction and another bridge.”
Peter nodded. “We may as well keep going to Little Mulgrave,” he said. “There are some more farm houses along the way; and we have to meet Capt Conkey at the hotel there anyway.”
Mr Jones now spoke. “Little Mulgrave is where our second contact point is, if there was no-one at the first.”
“Good, so it suits all of us,” Graham said.
At that moment Stephen called from the rear. “I think we have left it too late. Look behind us.”
Peter looked back. They were just on the curve but could still see where the gravel road came down through the trees from the highway back on the other side of the river. Just coming into sight was a black four wheel drive!
“Is that them?” Megan cried anxiously.
Stephen looked. “Don’t know. I… Oh shit! Yes it is!” he replied.
The black four wheel drive had stopped beside a van on the far bank and even as they watched a man clad fully in black and with a black balaclava rolled up on his head got out and walked over to where two picnickers sat on folding chairs.
Joy looked very worried. “In the car, is that the Black Monk?” she asked.
Peter peered at the vehicle. Sunlight reflecting off its tinted windshield made it hard to see but it certainly looked like the hooded figure in the passenger’s seat.
“Could be,” Graham added. “Let’s get out of here, fast.”
“Aren’t we safer with all these people?” Gwen said.
“No!” Stephen replied emphatically. “What can they do to help us? All they can do is be witnesses and if the Devil Worshippers cover their faces that won’t be much good.”
Once again Peter felt a strong surge of fear. His instinct was to agree with Stephen. Even as he watched he saw the two picnickers point in their direction. The man in black looked directly at them, then turned and quickly walked back to the vehicle.
“Come on! Quick! Run!” Graham cried.
“Why don’t we fight them?” Stephen demanded. “We have three guns. We could hold them off easily till the police arrive.”
Graham did not wait. He started walking quickly along the tramline. As he went he called back: “Be reasonable Steve. There are lots of women and kids here. It is no place to start a gunfight.”
Gwen had followed Graham and the others started walking as well. She agreed with Graham: “We can’t just start a gun battle just because we think there might be danger.”
“You are right,” Sir Richard agreed. “We should only use force as a last resort.”
As he walked quickly along Sir Miles took out his pistol and checked it. “It
is our duty to fight Satan wherever we meet him,” he said.
Gwen would not have it. “No. We should try to avoid violence. Besides, if we start shooting and hit someone we could find ourselves in trouble with the law.”
“We could plead self-defence,” Stephen argued.
“Stop arguing and walk faster,” Peter argued. “If we need to we can adopt the plan of holding them off, but not here. We should pick our ground.”
That effectively silenced the debate for the moment. By then they were out of sight of the black vehicle. Peter kept glancing back, sure it would drive into sight at any second.
By then they were close to the second rail bridge. As they rounded a slight curve to the right the bridge became visible. Peter at once bit his lip. The bridge was at least a hundred metres long and had no handrails or walkways. He remembered the other bridges they had crossed and how slow Joy and Megan had been.
“We will never get across there before they arrive,” he called out. By then Graham was at the end of the bridge and about to start crossing.
Gwen stopped. “So what else can we do?” she asked.
Chapter 11
THE RIVER BANK
Graham immediately stopped. “We won’t cross,” he said. “We will go that way, along the river bank.”
He pointed into the tangle of weeds and long grass on their left. Gwen looked at it doubtfully. “Can we get through? It looks very thick.”
“There is a track here somewhere, or there used to be,” Graham replied. “We went along it two years ago on that Senior Exercise I mentioned. Do you remember it Pete?”
Peter nodded but felt anxious because he wasn’t sure if he could locate the track. But it is certainly a better option than trying to cross the bridge, he thought. That bridge is so long the Devil Worshippers will have time to drive to the far end and cut us off. Another look at the bridge convinced him. It went across a wide, deep section of the river, then led through a short tunnel of trees to the highway. Even as he watched he saw a car zip past the opening at the far end.
Seated on the rail bridge near their end were three youths of about their own age. They were fishing and now watched the group with idle interest. Peter pointed to them. “Graham, ask those blokes to tell the Devil Worshippers we have gone across; then to call the police for us. You and Steve come last as rearguard. I will lead.”
“Good idea,” Graham agreed. “Get going. Steve, cover the rear.”
Peter immediately turned and began to search for the track which they had used two years before. Even then he remembered it to be nothing more than a foot track through the long grass. By this time he was in a fever of anxiety and kept glancing anxiously at the bend back towards the other bridge, expecting to see the four wheel drive come into view at any moment.
The wall of grass was head height and interlaced with lantana. All he could find was an area of grass which looked shorter than the rest. With a shrug he stepped into it.
Sure to be snakes, he thought, but his fear of the Devil Worshippers was much greater. I hope this is it. Anyway, doesn’t matter if it isn’t. We can force a way through and it will be easy to fight a rearguard action along it if we have to.
With that he began to push and trample determinedly into the tangle. The others followed while Graham trotted out onto the bridge and began to speak earnestly to the three boys.
For a minute Peter feared he had made a mistake and that they would end up entangled and floundering in the long grass and lantana. Soon however he saw that he was making good progress and that the ‘track’ was curving left towards the line of trees along the high bank. Within ten paces he found himself on a definite trail which came down the bank on his left. This led in among the trees where it became a very clear foot track. Horses hoof prints showed it had been recently and regularly used.
“This is the track,” he said to Joy, who was following closely behind. A feeling of intense relief surged through him. A branch of the track led up into the sunlight of an open cane field. Peter stayed on the track on the slope. This now led directly along the river bank. Five metres below them the water of the river glinted in a long, deep reach.
There was the thudding of boots behind. Peter looked back and saw with relief that Graham and Stephen had both caught up. Graham gave a thumbs-up and signalled to keep going. Peter set off as fast as he could walk.
“This used to be an old road,” Joy observed. Peter had noted this. The remains of a bench cut showed plainly, even with fallen logs across it and small trees growing up in places. He remembered what Capt Conkey had told them as they had walked along it.
“It was one of the old pioneer roads from the Tablelands,” he explained. “From in the days of pack horses in the 19th Century.”
“Where does it go?” Sir Miles asked from just behind Joy.
“Up the Mulgrave to a farm I think,” Peter replied. “It is just near Little Mulgrave. In fact the Little Mulgrave River should be just on our right somewhere.”
“Little Mulgrave. That is where we had to meet our contact,” Sir Miles replied.
“You were a long way from it when we met you then,” Peter answered.
Sir Miles shook his head. “No. We were given several places to visit,” he replied.
Peter was puzzled. “Why would they do that? Why not just one rendezvous?”
“Probably so they could observe and check who arrived at the first one,” Sir Miles replied. “That way, if the wrong people arrived they could either fade away or arrange a different reception. It is a normal precaution.”
Graham had been listening and now spoke. “That was how Captain Krapinski set up his trail,” he added.
“Captain who?” Sir Miles asked.
“Oh, a Kosarian we got involved with on the Tablelands last year,” Graham replied.
Peter turned and frowned back at him. “We aren’t supposed to talk about that,” he reminded him.
Sir Miles looked surprised. “Why not?” he asked. “What happened?”
Peter shook his head. “Sorry, orders from the security people. It was political,” he replied. He experienced a series of vivid flashbacks to that hectic week the previous year, when he, Graham, Stephen and Roger had inadvertently found themselves involved in a murderous Balkan intrigue between the Communist and Royalist factions from Kosaria.
Sir Richard had been listening as they hurried along the overgrown track among the trees. “Do we know where we are?” he asked.
Graham nodded. “Exactly, to the metre almost,” he replied. He showed his map.
Sir Richard paused to glance at it. “How far have we come?” he asked. He looked thoroughly bad-tempered.
“At least five kilometres,” Graham answered.
Sir Richard grunted and turned to Mr Jones. “Where are we to meet these people?”
Mr Jones pointed along the river. “Somewhere along here, but on the other bank,” he replied. Peter glanced at him and saw that he looked very sorry for himself, his face a mass of cuts and bruises. Once again he wondered what it was that these men were searching for.
Sir Miles turned his head to study the river. “Can we cross the river? Is there a bridge?” he asked.
Graham answered. “We can cross anywhere if you don’t mind swimming or getting wet,” he replied. “And there is a bridge a few kilometres further upstream.”
Knowing the Mulgrave well Peter mentally agreed with that. The stretch they were walking beside was about 75 metres wide and the depth varied from waist deep to over their heads. But the water was lovely and clear and only flowing gently.
And there are no crocs in this fresh water, he thought.
Stephen made another attempt to use his mobile phone but gave up, muttering in frustration. “Still no service,” he explained.
“You wouldn’t expect it really,” Graham added. “We are around behind another ridge and down in among all these trees.”
As he walked Peter puzzled over what to do next, and over what the Devil
Worshippers might do. There was a possibility they might follow them along the track.
Our boot prints must be clear to see, if they look, he mused. He also worried that there would be a vehicle track along the edge of the cane field up to their left. They could drive along that and get ahead of us.
That was a worry. He took out his own map and tried to check where they were. Their approximate location was easy to work out but the study of the map disconcerted him a bit as it wasn’t quite as he remembered it. They were now moving at right angles to their desired course and each step now took them further away from hotel at Little Mulgrave.
Megan hitched her pack higher. “At least it is cool,” she commented.
Joy nodded. “And it is very pretty,” she added. Peter had to agree. The track led through a belt of rain forest on the side of the river bank. The track wound around trees and gaps in the foliage gave them glimpses of lovely stretches of the river.
After about ten minutes walk the track abruptly turned and went uphill out into the open. A faint trail led down to the right to the edge of the water. Peter stopped and the others closed up.
“End of the track,” he explained. He took out his water bottle to have a drink as he had begun to sweat again.
“May I have a drink please,” Sir Richard asked.
Peter felt quite embarrassed. “Oh yes! Of course! How rude of me. Sorry I didn’t think of it.” He passed the water bottle to Sir Richard. Gwen passed hers to Sir Miles. Both knights looked hot and tired. They also showed signs of the beating they had received the previous day. Graham and Stephen came forward.
“What’s the problem?” Graham asked.
Peter indicated the track going up hill. “Which way?”
“We went along the river bank on our hike didn’t we?” Graham answered.
Peter nodded, scratching around in his memory. “There’s a track of sorts,” he said.
“Follow it. We can always just walk along the river bank, or climb up to the cane fields,” Graham said.
Stephen slid the revolver into a pocket and took off his glasses to wipe condensation off them. “We are safer down here under cover,” he added.
The Word of God Page 13