“We must warn them,” Gwen cried. “Otherwise they will drive back into the Devil Worshippers!”
“Gwen!” Peter cautioned.
The man looked alarmed. “Devil Worshippers! What the hell is going on?”
Peter again shook his head. “We can’t tell you. Please go and phone the police. We will be just along here wherever that car is,” he replied.
Without waiting to see if the man agreed Peter began walking. This caused a fresh outburst of frenzied barking from the dogs. The man yelled at them to stop but Gwen confronted him.
“Please call the police at once. And please don’t tell the men in black you have seen us.”
“Men in black?”
Gwen pointed back along the dirt road. “In two cars. They are back there at the bridge,” she explained. With that she spun on her heel and followed, the third dog snapping at her heels. This time the man stood and stared after them. Then he whistled and called the dogs back. The last they saw of him he was walking back up towards the house and yelling to one of the Blue Heelers which didn’t want to give up the game.
Peter led the way along the dirt track which ran beside the tramline. This ran between two fields of uncut cane. All the while the friends walked as quickly as they could and kept looking over their shoulders. It was now very hot and down between the cane there was no breeze so they were soon sweating profusely.
After two hundred metres they came to a side track which went right. Peter stopped briefly to study the dust and then headed that way. Graham pointed to the tyre tracks, grunted agreement and followed. The track was so narrow that the rough cane leaves hung across it in many places, forcing them to push through them. It was not very pleasant but Peter was so scared and so worried that he barely noticed. Even Megan’s grumbling was just an irrelevant background noise.
A few hundred paces on they came out onto a headland on the river bank. The river bank was almost devoid of large trees and only a grassy slope and a belt of small flood-twisted trees separated them from the bed of the river. This was a wide gravel flat on their side, then a series of rapids and deep pools on the far side. Beyond that the far bank rose steeply up to a long ridge which ran off up to the right as a huge buttress of the main escarpment a few kilometres away. The ridge was sparsely clad in grass and savannah woodland, causing Peter’s mind to speculate briefly on the effect of rain shadows.
The friends turned left and set off along the headland. The river at this point curved back to the left, then away to the right. Ahead of them loomed another steep grassy slope crowned with cane fields.
Graham took out his map and studied it as he walked. “We can go up onto that high ground and follow it around to the Goldsborough Bridge,” he said.
Peter nodded but most of his attention was taken up with searching for the knight’s car. Down to the right beyond the belt of small trees a low concrete bridge came into view at the far side of the gravel flat. Immediately on the left of the near end of the bridge was a thick belt of trees. Beyond the bridge the road seemed to vanish into an overgrown cutting at the base of the steep ridge.
Two wheel ruts led down through the small trees towards the end of the bridge. As there was no sign of the car up on the headland Peter went down the track.
A minute later they came upon the car parked just beyond the belt of small trees. It was parked on the rough pebbles and rocks of the river bed near the end of the small bridge. There was no sign of the knights so Peter walked on past the car to the end of the bridge.
Now he saw what the farmer had meant. Floods had scoured away the gravel from the concrete abutment at their end of the bridge so that no vehicle could get onto it. A strong flow of water rushed down through this channel as well as under the bridge. Upstream of the bridge was a lovely deep reach under overhanging trees.
Joy looked around. “This is a pretty spot,” she cried.
Peter nodded agreement as he tested the depth and strength of the water with his staff. “This looks a bit faster than what we crossed earlier. Be careful and don’t slip,” he cautioned. Having said that he stopped and studied the currents carefully. The rush of water was so strong that he was worried that if one of them slipped they would be carried away. Downstream was a long rapid over which the river tumbled in a froth of white water.
Shaking his head he turned to the others. “Packs off while we do a recce,” he called.
Graham as always was first to move. He dumped his pack and webbing on the rocks, warned Stephen to keep guarding the rear and moved forward to stand in the knee deep current.
“This feels bloody great,” he said. “I could do with a swim.”
“You’ll get one alright, if you slip,” Peter cautioned, indicating the racing torrent.
“She’ll be right,” Graham replied with a grin. He placed his staff carefully in the water and moved slowly forward till the water was up to his thighs. “Bit fast. We’d better use toggle ropes and pass the gear across first,” he called. Then he saw Joy’s face and spun round to look along the bridge.
It was the two knights. They had come walking out of the overgrown cutting at the far end and had stopped in surprise when they saw the cadets. The look of surprise on Sir Miles’ face gave way to a smile of recognition and he walked forward. Sir Richard did not appear to be amused but also gave a perfunctory smile.
Sir Miles strode across the 25 metres of bridge. “Hello! What brings you lot here?” he asked.
“Devil Worshippers!” Graham cried, pointing back the way they had come. “We came to warn you.”
The smile vanished from Sir Miles’ face instantly and he frowned. “The Devil they are! How in hell did they track us here!”
Graham shook his head. “Don’t know, but they are just back at the other bridge and they know about us. I hope it wasn’t our fault?” he said.
Peter shook his head. “It wasn’t. They didn’t see us. I’m sure. They were at the other bridge ten minutes ago. They could be here any minute. You can’t go back that way.”
Sir Miles frowned again and Sir Richard stepped past him and down into the water. Graham gave them both a helping hand as they waded across the five metres of swift current. Both wore white shirts, grey trousers and ties and looked very hot and sweaty.
“Tell me what you saw,” Sir Miles asked.
Sir Richard walked on to their car. “I’ll just open the car and turn it around,” he called.
Gwen looked alarmed. “Please, you mustn’t try to drive back that way. They are waiting for you!” she cried.
Sir Richard ignored her and opened the car. He reached in and took out his coat, then sat in the car to write in a notebook. Graham began describing their night to Sir Miles. Gwen became very agitated as Sir Richard started the car and turned it around. In doing so he nearly bogged it among the loose pebbles. When it was just inside the small trees he stopped and got out.
Peter was so concerned he started walking towards the car. Now that he saw that Sir Richard was again writing in his notebook he breathed a sigh of relief. But what to do?
His body sent him a message. Crap first, he thought. He had not eased his motions that morning and the need was now becoming urgent. He went back to his webbing and extracted his toilet paper. “I’m just going to the toilet,” he said. “Please fill my water bottles Joy,” he called.
He indicated the two water bottles he had already emptied and then walked off upstream into the belt of small trees. Graham, Gwen, Megan and Joy all remained talking to Sir Miles near the end of the bridge while Stephen sat under the trees watching the cane headland.
As he made his way into the trees Peter’s mind was feverishly busy.
We must take the knights with us again and get to safety, he thought. But which way?
As he squatted to relieve himself he took out his map and studied it to select the best route.
While he was busy Peter became aware of someone talking not far away. For a minute he took no notice. Then he realized it was S
ir Richard.
Who the Devil is he talking to? he wondered.
The sound of the rapids made it impossible to make out what the knight was saying. But something odd about the conversation puzzled Peter. Only as he was buttoning up his trousers did he realize what it was. He is talking to himself.
Out of curiosity Peter took a few steps and peeked around the next tree. He saw Sir Richard crouching with his back to him beside the car. The knight was holding what looked like a radio to the side of his head.
Or is it a mobile phone? Peter wondered.
Then he puzzled over how Sir Richard could get mobile service right down in the river bed when they couldn’t. The clue was the fold-out antennae which stuck up above the knight’s head.
A satellite phone? Peter thought.
Not wanting to be seen and called an eavesdropper Peter made his way quietly back out of the trees and back across the pebbles to where the others waited. As he got closer he was surprised to see Sir Miles talking to a bearded man in a faded red shirt in the long grass at the far end of the bridge. Graham crouched beside the river filling his water bottles. Joy and Gwen sat side by side on the rocks. Megan was seated near Stephen. To Peter’s surprise he saw that Joy was holding the radio and Gwen was writing in her notebook.
“Another message,” Joy called. “It started just after you left but we can’t decode it. Have you got that code book?”
“Yes. Who’s that geezer in the red shirt?”
“I think he is the next contact man for the knights. He doesn’t seem very happy about us,” Joy replied.
“I’ll bet he isn’t,” Peter said. He looked around then said: “We should get away from here and under cover.”
“Just decode this message fast,” Gwen said. “The previous ones told us a lot so this one might too.”
After casting an anxious look back along the top of the river bank Peter reluctantly relented. “OK,” he agreed. He was feeling very nervous and stressed, expecting the Devil Worshippers to arrive at any minute.
Graham obviously felt the same way. He stood up and thrust his water bottles into his webbing. “I will carry your gear across the bridge.”
“Why across?” Peter asked.
“Because we can get back to Little Mulgrave most easily that way I reckon,” Graham replied.
Peter grunted agreement and flicked open his notebook and the code book. Stephen stood up and moved to help Graham. Sir Richard came walking quickly back wiping his face with a handkerchief. On seeing the man in the red shirt he became quite agitated and waded quickly across and climbed up onto the bridge, then walked across to join Sir Miles.
At that moment the radio spoke again. It was 665 calling 663. “Copy it Joy,” Peter ordered. While she did that he finished decoding the first message. By the time the second message was finished he had completed the decoding. What he read made him shiver with fear.
“They are right onto us!” he said.
“What does it say?” Graham asked as he splashed back to get another pack.
“From Six Seven to Six Five Six. Have made contact with next agent. Cadets have joined us again. Details to follow.”
Gwen gasped. “They must be watching us right now!” she cried. They all looked around anxiously but there was no sign of anyone. Peter shrugged. There was too much bush and cover. It would be easy to do.
“We’d better get going,” he said.
“Decode the other one first,” Gwen urged.
Megan looked fearfully around. “But they might arrive at any moment!” she cried.
Graham shook his head. “No. If they wanted to do that they would have. I think they are following us. It will help us to know their plans.”
Peter nodded. “That is what I felt yesterday,” he said. “That they are following us, waiting for the knights to find whatever it is. Then they will pounce.”
Stephen moved to join them. “What if they know we have their codes and they are feeding us false information?” he suggested.
That was a sickening thought too, but Peter shook his head. Somehow he didn’t think so. He bent to resume decoding, scribbling as fast as he could. As he did he sweated and felt a peculiar prickling sensation. Several times he looked up and scanned the cane headland for signs of the Devil Worshippers; the rifle with telescopic sights being uppermost in his mind.
But it was not that which was gripping his mind and emotions. It was the message appearing word after word under his hand. Even when it was only half decoded he just knew what it was going to tell him and the knowledge made him sick to the pit of his stomach.
When he had finished he just sat for a moment stunned by the import of it. Gwen craned over. “What’s wrong Peter. What does it say?”
Chapter 17
EVIL UNMASKED
Peter held the message for Gwen to see, then read it aloud: “It is from Six Five Six to Six Five Three. It says: Knight reports contact with next agent. Cadets have rejoined them. Details to follow.”
“Knight reports? Which Knight? What?” Joy said.
Peter felt his stomach knot up as he stood up. A confrontation was coming and he knew it could not be avoided. Now the clues all dropped into place. As he waded into the current he hissed between clenched teeth: “They aren’t watching from a distance! The traitor is with us.”
The others followed, Gwen and Stephen helping Joy and Megan across. Peter ignored the tug of the thigh deep current and splashed across to the end of the bridge. As he clambered up onto the end of the bridge his mind raced with options on how to handle the situation.
The best plan is to get Sir Miles alone, he decided, but he could not see how to achieve that.
As he strode along the bridge Peter was aware that he was being gripped by a steadily mounting rage. He knew he had to handle this exactly right as it could be fatal for several people.
As he drew closer the bearded man in the red shirt looked hard at him, then clapped a battered felt hat on his head and turned away. By the time Peter reached the two knights the man had vanished into the cutting full of long grass.
Sir Richard turned angrily on him. “Please stay out of this. We are holding a private conversation and would appreciate it if you weren’t so rude.”
Peter halted a couple of paces from him and returned his stare. “This is too important,” he said. He held out the two decoded messages for Sir Miles to read.
“What is this?” Sir Miles asked.
“Radio messages we have just decoded,” Peter replied. He was aware that Graham was now beside him and that the others were behind him.
I wish they had stayed back, he thought.
Now his eyes were focused almost exclusively on Sir Richard, who returned a hostile stare.
“What do they say?” Sir Richard snapped, his eyes flicking nervously to the notebook Sir Miles held.
“That we have a traitor in our midst who is passing information to the enemy,” Peter replied. He tensed his muscles in anticipation.
“Ridiculous!” Sir Richard snapped. There was an instant of tense silence. A look of great pain crossed Sir Miles face and he opened his mouth to speak.
Before he could Sir Richard acted. He jumped back and reached into his pocket for his pistol. This was what Peter had been both dreading and expecting. In three swift strides he grappled with Sir Richard, seizing the arm which now held the gun.
It was instantly apparent that Sir Richard was much stronger and that he was desperate. He struck Peter a numbing blow with his free hand just under the side of his skull. Peter felt a wave of red and black pain engulf him. His mind cried: Karate but he hung on grimly, shouting for the others to help him.
For a few seconds there was a violent struggle. Both Peter and Sir Richard fell heavily on the bridge and rolled over. Sir Richard poked at Peter’s eyes, then grasped his head by the hair and banged it hard on the concrete. Once again unconsciousness threatened to overcome Peter. He was dimly aware that he still had hold of Sir Richard’s hand, that s
omeone- Gwen- had also grabbed the hand and was twisting the little finger.
The gun clattered onto the roadway even as Peter passed out. For a few seconds he lay stunned, then became aware that he was no longer holding Sir Richard. He rolled over and tried to focus his eyes. The blurry picture that formed showed him Sir Miles and Sir Richard circling each other in ‘Martial Arts’ stances.
Sir Richard suddenly struck out with fists, then feet. Sir Miles dodged and hit back but Sir Richard whirled aside. That brought him close to Joy, who tried to fend him off with her staff. In a flash Sir Richard seized the staff and struck her body. He then whipped around and fended off an attack by Sir Miles.
Peter had seen fighting with quarter staves demonstrated but was appalled at the sheer speed and ferocity of the attack that Sir Richard now delivered. In three seconds he had struck three people with one or the other end, sending them reeling back. A sharp crack to the face made Sir Miles stagger back. Graham was whacked hard in the crutch and curled up in agony and Gwen received a savage blow to her forearm.
Peter shook his head to clear it and started to get to his feet. The gun lay on the bridge nearby and he moved to get it. Sir Richard sprang forward, staff whirling, the end thudding into Peter’s ribs as he twisted frantically away.
Joy saw her chance and took it. Scattered on the bridge were stones from the flood. She scooped up the largest and flung it. Sir Richard saw the movement and tried to dodge. In this he was partly successful, in that the cricket ball sized stone only struck his head a glancing blow. However, in his efforts to avoid the stone, Sir Richard stumbled against the low concrete kerbing of the bridge.
There was a shout, his arms flailed and the staff fell onto the bridge while he tripped backwards. One second he was visible, the next he was gone. By the time Peter shook his head clear and stepped to the side of the bridge Sir Richard was twenty metres downstream, being tumbled over and over in the rapids.
Joy ran to the side of the bridge, an appalled look on her face. “Oh quick! He will drown. We must save him!” she screamed.
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