Graham shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said.
Stephen frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that. It makes it seem as though they know what we are doing.”
Peter nodded as an ugly suspicion formed in his mind. “You are right I think. It is as though they know all the time what we are doing.”
“But how?” Joy gasped.
Gwen looked anxiously around. “Maybe they have had someone watching us the whole time?”
Graham shook his head. “No. Too hard to do. That man in the vehicle was sent to watch here and we caught him by surprise.”
Peter nodded. “I agree. Besides, I don’t think they know we can read their coded messages and they haven’t mentioned anyone else.”
“A traitor then,” Gwen suggested.
That was an ugly thought and for a moment there was silence as they absorbed it and its implications. Joy spoke first: “You mean one of us is passing information to the Devil Worshippers?”
Peter frowned. “How else could they know our every move?” he asked. In his mind he listed the occasions when the Devil Worshippers had appeared. Now some of his feelings from the previous day gelled. “I felt it yesterday, that we weren’t being so much hunted as hounded. The Devil Worshippers kept tabs on us all the way almost, till they lost us at Ross and Locke.”
“But they knew we were here,” Graham said. “That message implies that. Those men were sent to check if we were gone or not.”
Gwen bit her lip and frowned. “So they must have known that we captured the man who was sent here; Six Five Four,” she added.
There was another silence while they absorbed this. Peter’s mind crowded with terrible thoughts. Who was the traitor? And how had he, or she, passed on the information?
Megan voiced his worst thought. “It must be you Stephen. You said you were a Devil Worshipper once.”
Stephen turned to give her a hard look. Only then did Peter realize that Stephen had the pistol. If he was indeed the traitor he had them at his mercy. But instead Stephen gave a wry grin. “I never said I was a Devil Worshipper. I said I was once mixed up in a gang. It’s a long story, but I don’t want to go into it.”
“But you knew that man,” Megan accused.
“So did we,” Graham pointed out. “He went to our school a couple of years ago.”
By then Peter’s mind had assembled the damning evidence. Stephen had been the last person at the Mulgrave National Park, the rearguard.
He could have left a note. He was last again at Ross and Locke. And he had carried the radio most of the time, or had he? Peter tried to remember. What was certain was that he had been the sentry for hours the previous evening. Could he have run out to the main road to pass information to the Black Monk? he wondered.
Peter did a quick calculation and confirmed that there had been time. While Graham and I were at the hotel, he thought. Again he shook his head, not wanting to believe what he was thinking. Something’s not right here, he puzzled. Some of the facts didn’t fit but he couldn’t make out what the missing pieces were.
Graham ended the argument. “This is nonsense. Steve has saved our lives too often. I don’t believe it. Anyway we don’t have time to conduct the bloody inquisition here. Let’s get to the nearest farm and phone the cops.”
Under his urging they stood up, adjusted their gear and set off along the river bank through the rainforest.
Chapter 16
SECRET CODES
Megan grabbed her pack off Stephen and moved quickly to the front of the line just behind Graham. For a moment the atmosphere was very tense but Stephen defused it by shrugging and placing the pistol in his pocket. Peter let out a sigh of relief and helped Joy to her feet.
She held out her hand. “I’ll have my pack back thanks,” she said.
Peter passed it to her, then indicated she should walk ahead of him. They started walking along the bank through the scrub. This was mostly rainforest growing on a steep slope. Numerous small thin trees and vines impeded their movement and soon all were perspiring and panting.
As they struggled along Peter’s mind was a fever of speculation about the accusations of treachery. Someone certainly seemed to be keeping the Devil Worshippers informed, but who?
But not fully informed, he thought. They don’t seem to know we have captured their code book and radio and that we can decode their messages.
But it was certainly a worry.
The line ahead stopped and Peter looked to see what was wrong. Graham pointed up. A cliff festooned with ferns and creepers blocked their path. The bottom stood in deep, fast flowing water.
“Have to go up around it,” Graham said. Peter nodded agreement. Graham was the more experienced bushman.
They started climbing up the steep slope, hauling themselves hand over hand from one small tree to another, their feet continually slipping in the leaf litter. After twenty five metres Peter wondered if they had made a mistake as it became so steep they could only progress by climbing up vines and exposed tree roots.
At one point he had to push Joy up from behind. Dirt and small stones showered down from those above, making it both unpleasant and dangerous.
At the steepest point Megan slipped and sent quite a large stone hurtling down. Joy was struck a glancing blow on the shoulder and Peter felt the wind of it as it whistled past.
Joy scowled. “Watch what you are doing, you stupid cow!” she snapped.
Megan had been grabbed by Gwen as she scrabbled to get her footing.
“Don’t you call me a cow you fat-arsed little bitch,” Megan cried back.
“Oh how dare you! That stone nearly hit me!” Joy cried.
Peter held up a hand. “And me, now stop the argument,” he cut in. He was hot, tired, frightened and in no mood for their tantrums.
Graham moved back down and helped haul Megan up over the steep section. Joy went up next. Once again Peter helped by pushing. In doing so he found his face close to her backside and was able to observe the accuracy of Megan’s comment.
She is a bit big in the bum, he decided.
He climbed up using the exposed roots as foot and handholds and joined the others on the edge of a thick belt of lantana and long grass on a very steep slope. Here they waited for Stephen to join them.
As they waited the sun reached them. It shone with such force that Peter glanced up to check the sky. Clear blue and not a cloud in sight. He wiped sweat from his face and muttered: “So much for winter!”
Graham grunted then said: “Better to be hot than cold.” He then turned and resumed climbing, picking the easiest route between clumps of lantana. The slope was so steep they had to grab at the grass and branches and Peter was glad he still had his staff. Megan had lost hers and soon cut her hands by grabbing at blady grass. This caused more wails and delay.
They came to a gasping halt in a small clearing while the cuts were inspected by Gwen. There was no breeze and Peter found the air stifling. Stephen swore and removed his glasses, which had fogged up, to wipe them. Peter fanned his face with his hat and turned to look behind him.
What he saw made him suck in his breath sharply. They were now above the level of the tree tops along the river and could see out across the valley to the hotel and the mountains beyond. But what drew his attention was the sight of a vehicle in the distance. It was about five hundred metres away and was parked on the bitumen road at the junction with the track near the dual purpose bridge.
“That car,” he said to Graham while pointing.
Graham looked, his face a mask of concentration. “Two men, both in civvies,” he said.
Stephen replaced his glasses and also looked. “Not wearing black,” he added.
Graham chewed his bottom lip. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t Devil Worshippers,” he replied.
Joy shaded her eyes and stared. “I think it is the two knights,” she said.
Peter screwed his eyes up against the glare and wiped sweat from his brow. One of the
men walked around to the front of the car and appeared to be looking at a map. He certainly did look like Sir Richard. “Looks like them,” he said.
Graham shielded his eyes from the sun. “I would have thought that they would have cleared out to safety,” he said.
Stephen shook his head. “Not them. They have a quest to fulfil. They won’t give up just because of a few Devil Worshippers,” he commented.
As the friends watched the man climbed back into the car and it was started up. It drove down and across the bridge and out of sight behind the trees on their own bank.
“Going our way anyway,” Graham observed.
Joy looked hopeful. “Maybe we will meet up with them?” she suggested.
Megan made a face. “I’d rather not,” she put in. “I’m sick of this whole business.”
“We could warn them again,” Peter suggested.
“Oh stop talking about the Devil Worshippers!” Megan cried.
Stephen shook his head. “No. We must face reality. Wishing them away won’t make then go,” he said.
Megan glared at him and looked away. Gwen spoke up to avert another clash. “If we can see them then anyone over there might be able to see us. I think we should keep moving.”
Graham nodded agreement then turned and continued on up the slope. They all found it very hard going, so steep they continually slipped and had to stop to get their breath. The place was so overgrown that it just looked the sort of place that would be a real nest of snakes so Peter kept a very wary eye on all the clumps of grass and holes.
It was obvious they were following animal tracks through the long grass and Peter hoped they were wallaby tracks and not pig tracks. Stephen voiced this, to Joy’s and Megan’s horror.
A few minutes later they reached a grassy, weed-covered crest line. Gwen looked around. “We seem to be on top of a hill here. Try your mobile phone Steve,” she suggested.
Stephen reached into his pocket and as he did his face changed. “Uh oh! I left it in my pocket when we waded the river,” he said. He took out his phone and tried to turn it on. Then he bit his lip and shook his head. “Dead as a doornail,” he said.
Both Joy and Megan let out gasps of dismay and both reached into their own pockets. To everyone’s dismay both had also carried their phones in their pockets and these were now saturated and not working. Megan began to blubber and kept trying to turn hers on but the screen remained stubbornly blank.
Gwen shook her head and then dug in her webbing. She had wrapped her phone in a plastic bag and it was dry. As she took it out and turned it on she said, “Peter, you and Graham try yours as well.”
Graham shook his head. “I didn’t bring mine on the hike,” he said. “I always leave it at home during cadet activities.”
“So do I,” added Peter. He felt quite foolish but at the time it was just what he usually did.
Gwen looked from one to the other. “So mine is the only phone we now have?” she commented.
Peter nodded. “Looks like it. Anyway we are higher up here so we might get service. Give it a try.” he suggested.
Gwen tried- but they didn’t. Looking distinctly worried she shrugged and switched her phone off again. “No go,” she said.
Peter felt ill but tried to keep a brave face on things. “Probably nobody in this valley gets any mobile connection,” he said.
As they could not communicate Graham turned right and led the way on along the bank of the creek. Peter realized they could go left and go back towards Gordonvale but the idea of abandoning the two knights to their fate caused him great unease. So he did not voice the idea and just followed along.
After twenty minutes of sweating and slithering progress Graham began heading back downhill. This was much easier but still awkward as they had to stop themselves sliding out of control and the lantana and blady grass scratched and prickled. It was a real relief to reach the rainforest along the river bank again.
Ten minutes later they came out onto the edge of a field of sugar cane. There were sighs of relief and they halted on the vehicle track between the tall cane and the jungle to have a drink. Peter looked at his watch: 0800. As soon as they had all finished drinking Graham led them on.
The next few hundred metres were easy going. They walked along the mowed vehicle track with the tall, uncut cane on their left and the thick belt of jungle on the river bank on their right.
Joy looked around and shook her head. “I can’t get over how green it all is!” she marvelled.
“And how hot and humid,” Stephen added as he removed his glasses to again wipe condensation from them.
Peter looked up and around and nodded. Directly ahead the massive escarpment of the Atherton Tablelands now loomed up, taking up half the view.
The line where the Gillies Highway cut its way diagonally up the face of the mountains showed clearly as a pale scar amidst the trees.
The group reached the end of the cane field. Here the track curved left. On their right a tall thicket of grass and weeds replaced the rainforest. Peter looked that way to check if he could see the river.
“The bridge should be somewhere just down there,” he commented. At that moment he saw it through a small gap in the foliage. “Yes there it is.. I.. Oh no!”
“What is it?” Stephen asked from behind him. They all stopped to look. Peter felt his stomach contract. He pointed.
“Devil Worshippers.”
Parked at the far end of the bridge at the junction with the track in to where they had spent the night were two vehicles. One was the black four wheel drive and the other was the blue car they had seen earlier. Two men in black were standing talking between the two vehicles. One figure sat in the front of the blue car and another in the front of the black four wheel drive.
Peter stared hard at the black four wheel drive. “Is that the Black Monk in the black four wheel drive?” he asked.
“Can’t tell,” Stephen replied. “Those tinted windows make it too hard to see.”
They all craned to look. Graham pulled Joy back. “Don’t show yourself. They may not know we are there.”
“Then what are they doing there?” Joy asked, her voice quavering.
“Following the two knights is my guess,” Peter replied.
Joy gasped. “Oh! Then we must warn them!” she cried. Peter met her eyes and smiled. She looked very tired and quite bedraggled from the drenching and trek through the jungle but her spirit still shone through.
“Yes, let’s move.”
He and Graham both started walking away from the river as quickly as they could. The others followed. As they strode along Megan found her voice.
“We should hide.”
Peter shook his head. “After we warn the knights.”
Gwen pointed ahead. “There’s a farm. Let’s call the police,” she said.
They were now approaching the point where the road and tramline came up through a cutting on their right to the level of the canefield. Ahead on the right several old farm buildings stood amidst the sugar cane. Twenty more paces revealed to them that a lawn sloped up on the left opposite the old buildings. The lawn led to a new steel shed and a modern farm house.
As the friends reached the road and tramway close to the driveway to the house Peter called back to Stephen: “Steve, watch the rear in case those buggers drive across the bridge and catch us.”
At that moment a dog barked. Two more took up the challenge and ran into view. All were big dogs: one a much scarred Bull Terrier and the other two Blue Heeler cattle dogs. They looked and sounded vicious. Their barking and snarling shattered the silence of the valley. Instinctively the friends crowded together and Peter hefted his staff ready to fend off attack as the dogs raced down the sloping lawn. For a minute things looked bad as the dogs snarled, growled and snapped around them. Peter was sure they would attack. Megan began to shriek hysterically and Joy whimpered in fear. Graham took out a sheath knife to supplement his staff and Stephen produced the pistol.
; A solid man in his mid-thirties, dressed in old grey shorts and blue singlet appeared from the shed. He glared at them then yelled: “Get out of here you bloody kids! This is private property.”
Graham shook his head. “Please call off your dogs and call the police,” he shouted back. He had to hold off one of them from nipping his legs.
The man shook a fist. “I’ll call the police alright! Get off my bloody land,” he shouted again.
Gwen stepped forward. “Please! We are in trouble!” she shouted.
At that the man whistled and called to the dogs to ‘come behind ya mongrels’. He walked down the slope, wiping greasy hands on a cloth. “So what is going on then? What brings you here? Can’t you read?”
Peter frowned. “Read what?” he asked.
“The bloody sign on the bridge,” the man growled angrily, while grabbing one of the dogs by the collar and driving a second one off with his foot. A bare foot Peter noted, stained with red mud.
Peter shook his head. “We didn’t see any sign. We came along the river bank,” he explained.
The man looked astonished. “Along the river bank? On this side? Not across the bridge?”
“That’s right,” Peter answered. “Oh please. It is vitally important that you call the police. Get Inspector Goldstein and tell him that the army cadets want him here as quickly as possible. He will understand.”
“Why? What’s going on?” the man asked suspiciously.
“We can’t explain easily,” Peter replied. He glanced around at the road up from the river, half expecting to see the Devil Worshippers arrive at any moment.
A look of suspicion crossed the man’s face. “Why not? Have you done something wrong?”
Peter shook his head. “No sir. It’s just. It’s something we aren’t supposed to talk about except to the police,” he replied lamely. He was now in a lather of sweat as apprehension gripped him. What would they do if the Devil Worshippers arrived?
Gwen spoke next: “Has a white car driven past here a few minutes ago?”
“Yes, about half an hour ago. Didn’t ask my bloody permission either! But they’ll be back. The next bridge is washed out,” the man said.
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