Voices and movement behind him caused him to glance back. It was Joy and Gwen. They were half-carrying, half-dragging the wounded prophet. “We saw what happened,” Joy explained as they puffed their way up the slope to him.
Stephen re-appeared down at the white 4WD with figures in police uniform and in suits. Peter recognized Inspector Goldstein. Behind him were Graham and Megan. The police quickly searched the area and came to stand guard over the prisoners, who scowled even more.
Peter stood up and pointed back up the slope. “There is another vehicle back up there, a black four wheel drive. And there are two more Devil Worshippers somewhere around here: the Black Monk and Sir Richard.”
Inspector Goldstein nodded and sent three police on up the road. He had a mobile phone in his hand and began rapidly passing information and asking for urgent medical assistance. That reminded Gwen.
“There is a Devil Worshipper somewhere who has been bitten by a Death Adder,” she said.
Inspector Goldstein nodded. “He is in that white four wheel drive. Stephen told us what was wrong with him. Now relax, the ambulance is on its way.”
Peter felt a surge of relief, but this was swept away as Sir Miles said: “Quickly, we must get to Malanda before Sir Richard or the Black Monk. They know who to contact next and what the password is. If they get there before us not only will they get the scroll but they will probably kill the contact.”
Inspector Goldstein appeared sceptical, smoothing his moustache in a way that Peter found intensely irritating, till Gwen flew at him. “Sir Miles is right! We must go fast! They shot this man here once he had told them.”
That convinced the Inspector. He at once issued rapid orders to the uniformed sergeant, then said: “Come with me you lot, let’s see if any of those cars still work.”
Two uniformed police were left to guard the prisoners. Inspector Goldstein, his Detective Sergeant, Sir Miles and the cadets set off down the road at the run. They clambered over the twisted remains of the gate and between the White 4WD and the gate post. As he did Peter glanced in and saw the Sniper crumpled on the seat. The Sniper’s face looked a waxy grey colour and Peter felt dread grip his stomach. Then he ran on down the road out into the open country.
As he ran, Peter kept scanning the fields on either side. If I was the Black Monk I would have gone down through the edge of the jungle to the left, then along that creek line, he deduced. I hope the bugger got snagged up in the wait-a-while!
At that moment he spotted movement away down in the valley beside the creek he had been looking at. That’s them! He pointed and yelled: “There they are! The Black Monk and Sir Richard!”
It was Sir Richard’s white shirt that stood out, the Black Monk appearing to be quite inconspicuous, especially with all the dark brown and black cattle dotted around the paddock.
The pair were at least a kilometre away and were already passing out of view behind the rise of the ground ahead.
Graham pressed his lips together. “They are aiming for the main road. We must head them off,” he cried. He broke into a run, followed by the others. Within a minute they had reached the police vehicles.
None of the police vehicles could move. That was instantly apparent. Most had been riddled by bullets. All the windshields were starred and shattered and most of the tyres were flat. Water and oil dripped from two of them.
Graham and Peter did not wait. While Inspector Goldstein and the sergeant started examining the vehicles they ran on, Peter thankful he had the rifle still. Stephen and Joy came running along behind, Sir Miles, Gwen and Megan remaining with the policemen.
The road ran level along a gentle, open ridge for a hundred metres. The ground now hid the two Devil Worshippers and Peter felt intense concern that they would lose their quarry. He pounded on behind Graham, pushing himself to run as fast as he could. The road went through a pleasant glade of trees for the next hundred metres. There was no undergrowth so there was no danger of ambush.
Beyond the trees the road curved slowly right and downhill. As they rounded the bend Peter experienced a surge of fierce delight. “There they are!” he cried.
About seven or eight hundred metres ahead were the two men. They were angling across the field towards the road. In the distance, about two kilometres away, was the Danbulla Road and a farm house. That was obviously their objective. Peter pushed himself on, somehow managing to keep up with Graham. Stephen and Joy fell behind. Peter felt his breath coming in hot gasps and there were the beginnings of a stitch. He knew he could not keep it up much longer.
The road levelled out and the two men were lost to sight for a minute but Peter was pleased with this as it also hid them from view. They were right out in the open. He pounded on along the next hundred metres, chest heaving and breath coming in great gasps.
As they breasted the rise they again saw the two. Sir Richard was just climbing through the barbed wire fence beside the road and the Black Monk was already through. They were about half a kilometre ahead. We are catching them up! Peter thought, fierce satisfaction coursing through him.
As Sir Richard stepped clear of the fence he looked in their direction. He let out a cry and started to run. The Black Monk also broke into a run, his black robes billowing in the wind.
Peter gritted his teeth. “Damn! They’ll get away!” he gasped.
Graham, who was few paces in front, shook his head. “No they won’t. Keep running. We are catching them,” he called back.
“I.. puff.. I’m.. puff.. buggered. I can’t keep it up… and … they are.. fresh,” Peter gasped. He tried to keep running but was now feeling dizzy and was experiencing sharp pains in his side. His legs felt like lead.
After another hundred paces he had to slow down. “Buggered!” he gasped.
Graham slowed as well. “They are getting away! Keep running!” he called. But he was winded too and could only jog along, chest heaving.
From behind them Stephen called. “Pete, use the rifle. Drop the bastards!”
Peter stopped running and looked at the rifle, then estimated the range. About three or four hundred metres. It was all open pasture sloping slightly up to where the Danbulla Road ran along the edge of a thick belt of jungle.
If they reach that jungle we will never find them, he thought.
He went into the ‘Kneeling supported’ position and slid off the safety catch. With difficulty he focused his eyes and got the correct eye relief on the telescopic sight. Into the circular picture popped the fluttering black robes of the Black Monk, then Sir Richard’s white shirt.
That treacherous mongrel, Peter decided, shifting the cross hairs onto Sir Richard’s back.
“Clear the range Graham,” he called. Graham moved aside and looked back. Peter tried to steady his breathing but the rifle sights seemed to vibrate wildly. Black dots danced in his vision and he had to blink to try to clear them. Through his mind raced something he had once read about it being very hard for someone who has been running to shoot straight.
Now I believe him! he thought.
With an effort he steadied his breathing and aim. Stephen didn’t help by running up yelling: “Shoot! Shoot! They’re getting away!”
Peter could see that. The two men were pounding along the road as fast as they could go, their heels and the bottoms of their boots looking oddly larger in the telescopic sight. He settled the cross hairs on the centre of Sir Richard’s back.
No deflection. He is running straight away from me, he noted.
His finger tightened on the trigger, taking the First Pressure, as Stephen danced up and down beside him. “Shoot! Shoot!” he screamed.
But Peter removed his finger from the trigger and shook his head. “I can’t.”
“You shot at them before!” Stephen cried angrily.
“That was in self-defence,” Peter replied.
“Let me do it then,” Stephen cried. He reached for the rifle. But Peter slid on the safety catch and kept a tight grip on the rifle. Stephen insisted. “G
ive it to me! They will kill that guy in Malanda if we don’t stop them.”
That was an awful possibility. Peter reluctantly handed the rifle to Stephen, who at once dropped into a kneeling position. Peter looked around to see where the two men had reached and silently swore. They were at a gate beside the main road. Both dived flat and rolled under it and a moment later were up and running.
At that moment a car came driving along the Danbulla Road from the north. Sir Richard raced out into the middle of the road with his arms up to stop it.
Joy had just caught up with them and she gasped.
“Oh no! Don’t stop!” she cried at the distant car.
Stephen was still aiming the rifle but hesitated as the car slowed down. To their horror the car did stop. The next thing they saw was Sir Richard thrust a pistol into the face of the driver. The Black Monk rushed to the passenger door. An elderly lady was hauled out and sent tumbling on the grass. The Black Monk scrambled in. Sir Richard hauled the driver out, an elderly man by the look of him. The cadets watched in anguish as Sir Richard’s arm went back, then struck down, the pistol taking the old man on the side of the head.
“Shoot Steve!” Graham called.
Stephen shook his head. “Too far. I might hit one of those people.”
All the friends could do was watch in frustrated anger as Sir Richard scrambled into the driver’s seat. The car began moving.
Joy threw her hands in the air. “Oh! They are getting away! They will get to Malanda before us!” she wailed.
Chapter 23
DRIVE FAST!
The four cadets stood in frustrated despair as they watched the car with Sir Richard and the Black Monk in it drive off along the Danbulla Road. The car went to the right up past a farm, then vanished behind the buildings as the road curved left.
“Have they gone to that farm?” Joy asked anxiously.
Graham shook his head. “No. The main road goes behind it. Look, there they are,” he replied, pointing to the left of the farm. In the distance, now several kilometres away, Peter saw the car racing up a long slope through the open farmland. Within a few seconds it had vanished from sight over a crest.
Stephen muttered and scowled. “Lost them! Damn! Now they will get the scroll!” he cried.
Joy rounded on him angrily. “Never mind the stupid scroll,” she snapped. “We must warn the person in Malanda. I wonder if there is a phone at the farm?”
Peter began running down the slope towards the farm. “Sure to be,” he called.
At that moment a white 4WD came into view behind them. Peter heard the motor and glanced back, experiencing a momentary pulse of alarm as he recognized it as the Devil Worshipper’s vehicle. But it was being driven by the Detective Sergeant. Inspector Goldstein and Sir Miles also sat in the front, with Gwen and Megan behind, holding the unconscious Sniper.
The 4WD stopped and Inspector Goldstein called out: “Where are they?”
Peter pointed southwards. “They stopped a car and hijacked it,” answered.
“Quick!” Joy cried. “After them! Don’t let them get away!”
Inspector Goldstein swore and smoothed his moustache. “Damn! Get in the back you lot. And make sure that bloody rifle is on safe.”
The vehicle was of the ‘troop carrier’ type with fold down seats in the back. The cadets clambered quickly in.
By the time the vehicle was moving Inspector Goldstein was using his mobile phone, calling the Malanda police station.
Stephen wedged the rifle upright between his thighs. “I should have fired,” he said in annoyance. “If those old people hadn’t been in the way I would have had a good shot.”
Detective Sergeant Davidson grunted back: “Just as bloody well you didn’t. You would have found yourself on a murder or manslaughter charge.”
That hadn’t occurred to Peter either and he felt quite sick at the idea.
Joy leaned forward. “Oh drive fast!” she cried.
“There is a gate,” the Detective Sergeant replied dryly.
The vehicle screeched to a stop at the gate and Graham sprang out to open it. As he swung it open the elderly lady came running over, very distressed.
“Help! Please help! Two men took our car and hit my husband,” she wailed.
“We know. We saw,” Graham replied. “These men are police,” he added, indicating the two plain clothes officers in the front of the 4WD as it drove through the gate.
“Never mind the gate!” Joy cried. “Drive fast!”
The sergeant ignored her and stopped. He climbed out, calling to Graham: “Shut the gate Kirk.”
Graham did so. Sir Miles and Inspector Goldstein also climbed out. They went over to the inert form of the old man and knelt to check him. The old lady was very upset and could hardly speak. Inspector Goldstein used his phone again and Gwen went to the lady and tried to calm her. From the nearby farmhouse a man and woman, the farmer and his wife by the look of them, came walking over.
Peter fretted with impatience but accepted that the old man had to be cared for.
Inspector Goldstein showed the farmers his ID. “There will be an ambulance along soon. Make sure it goes on up the road. Have the gate open please. There is a man up there who has been shot and he is in more danger than this gentleman.”
The farmer nodded. “We heard the shots,” he replied. “What is going on?”
“Sorry. I can’t tell you. Just look after this lady please, and direct any police cars and ambulances. We must get on. We’ve got a snake bite victim in the back.”
The farmer’s wife looked horrified. “Oh heavens!” she cried. The old lady looked even sicker. Peter twisted around to look at the Sniper, who was held up by Megan. From the back he appeared dead, his head lolling to one side and his skin all waxy looking.
Graham climbed back in with Gwen. “What happened to you blokes?” he asked.
Peter quickly relayed the tale of their climb up Robsons Track, all the while fretting with impatience. After what seemed like ages, but was actually only minutes Inspector Goldstein, Sir Miles and the sergeant climbed back in. The engine was restarted and they set off.
“Drive fast!” Joy urged. She looked very strained and gnawed at her knuckles.
“Relax!” Inspector Goldstein replied. “I’ve contacted the police in Malanda and they are on their way to Mr Durward’s place now.”
Peter sighed with relief and settled back. Reaction now set in and he began to shake. The sergeant still drove very fast, the vehicle bouncing over potholes and taking corners and crests on the narrow bitumen road at what seemed to Peter to be a speed too fast for safety.
Within five minutes they reached the junction with the Gillies Highway and turned right. It was a familiar drive to Peter and he barely noticed the scenery. Sir Miles did however and commented how pretty it was. “Just like England this bit.”
“Except for the snakes,” Stephen added.
That made them all squirm internally and glance at the Sniper.
Graham twisted round to look. “Is he still alive?” he asked.
Gwen nodded. “Yes, but his pulse is very weak and his breathing is irregular.”
They sped on. The highway went up and down over rolling hills, through dairy farms and patches of rain forest. In the distance Peter could see the low lava dome and radio tower that marked the location of Atherton, with the blue tumble of mountains beyond covering the western horizon. The sight gave him vivid flashbacks to the time the previous year. He said to Graham: “Remember walking this last year?”
Graham grinned. “Yep. That was a bloody good hike that one.”
He was about to reminisce when Joy suddenly cried: “An ambulance!”
They saw the vehicle racing towards them, red lights flashing and siren going. To Peter’s surprise they made no attempt to stop it and it flashed past.
Joy stared at it in horrified surprise. “We should have stopped them,” she cried to Inspector Goldstein.
“No. There is only
one ambulance at Malanda, and another at Atherton and they are needed back at Danbulla there. We are going to take this fellow to Atherton Hospital. It will be quicker,” Inspector Goldstein answered.
“But the Black Monk will beat us then!” Joy said.
“No he won’t. I’ve told you, we have informed the Malanda police. Saving this man is more important at the moment,” Inspector Goldstein replied.
They had to be content with that. As they passed the various turn-offs to Malanda they could only suppress their frustration. They drove fast through Yungaburra and on past the Seven Sisters and across the flat part of the Tablelands. Within twenty minutes they were in Atherton.
As soon as the vehicle pulled in at the Atherton Hospital they were met by a uniformed police officer and a medical team with a wheeled stretcher. The Sniper was bundled out and onto the stretcher and had been wheeled away even before Inspector Goldstein had finished giving instructions to the constable to keep close guard on him.
The cadets remained in the vehicle, except Gwen, who had climbed out to allow the Sniper to be removed. Graham made a wry face and commented: “Well, we’ve been here before. Remember when we all ended up side by side in that ward over there?”
Peter nodded. Joy looked interested. “What happened?”
Graham answered. “Four of us went on an expedition to a place called Stannary Hills, over the other side of those mountains. We had some trouble in an old mine with a gang of crooks and ended up in hospital with various burns, cuts and bruises,” he explained.
“Did the crooks get caught?” Joy asked.
“Yes,” Graham replied.
Peter had a vivid flashback to that terrifying night which he and Stephen had spent locked in an old house waiting to be burned alive. “Graham is too modest,” he said. “He saved us by walking half the night on his own with a broken arm.”
Joy’s eyes widened. “Ooh! What happened? Tell me,” she said.
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