Peter gave her the outline of the story. Gwen leaned in to listen. Inspector Goldstein turned and told her to get in, then climbed in himself. “Malanda,” he told the sergeant.
Peter nodded with satisfaction and checked his watch. It was just coming up to 6pm. The sun was already dropping behind the mountains and a distinct chill had set in. Once again Joy urged the sergeant to drive fast.
They went out along the other road to Malanda. Ordinarily Peter would have thoroughly enjoyed the drive. Sir Miles pointed out the window. “I can see now why it is called a Tableland.”
They sped on in the twilight. A rosy glow lit up the Seven Sisters and Mt Quincan, enhancing the beauty of the scene.
Joy stared out the window. “I love the way all the dairy cows take themselves to the milking shed and line up,” she commented.
That caused chuckles from Peter and Graham, both of whom had some experience of dairy farms. That set them off reminiscing about their adventure below Mt Bartle Frere, which now stood up bold against the darkening sky in the distance.
It was still quite light when they arrived in Malanda twenty minutes later. By then Peter was feeling very stiff and tired. As they did not know where to go Inspector Goldstein got on the phone and asked the local policemen. As they talked something in the Inspector’s tone caused a tiny flicker of worry.
“Mr Durward is not at his house,” he said. “Turn right here sergeant and go up this street beside the church.”
They drove along several quiet streets in the lovely little country town until they came to a low weatherboard house in a back street. A police 4WD was parked out front and a uniformed officer stood there. The sergeant parked the vehicle and everyone climbed out. Peter stretched and breathed in deeply to wake himself up. The heated air in the vehicle had been making him very drowsy. Here the air had a real nip to it and he wished he had his jacket.
The Senior Constable reported at once. “I drove here within two minutes of receiving your call sir. The house was closed up and none of the neighbours report seeing Mr Durward at all today.”
“You’ve had a look around?”
“Yes sir.”
“No one suspicious lurking in the area?”
The Senior Constable indicated the deserted suburban street with a grimace. “No sir.”
“Let’s have another look, then we will check for friends and relations,” Inspector Goldstein said.
They all walked in along the pathway. The house had a gravel drive way down one side. This led to an open garage at the rear. The lawn was well kept and the garden in good condition. The front door and all the windows were closed.
“Perhaps he’s away?” Gwen suggested.
“Possibly,” the Senior Constable replied.
“Any other family?” Inspector Goldstein asked.
“Wife died two years ago. There are some grown up kids. I think there’s a daughter living on the other side of town,” the Senior Constable replied.
“Ask the neighbours. Find out, and keep your eyes peeled for this Black Monk and his associate,” Inspector Goldstein replied.
“Yes sir,” the Senior Constable said. He turned and went back along the path.
Inspector Goldstein knocked, then tried the door. There was no response. By then it was dark enough for the surrounding houses to have their lights on and it made it hard for them to see in the unlit windows. The group made its way around to the back of the house, looking in each window as they went.
At the rear was a large lawn and vegetable garden. As well as the garage there was a garden shed, an old outdoor dunny and a greenhouse full of pot plants.
Stephen studied these. “Old Fred’s a keen gardener,” he commented. “Look at all those orchids. I must tell my oldies. They would love to visit here.”
Gwen walked on to the end of the green house to look around the back of the garden shed. Peter stood in the middle of the lawn feeling worried and frustrated. In his mind he ran over the timings and decided there was no possibility of the Black Monk having arrived before the policeman.
A soft gasp from Gwen made him turn. Suddenly the adrenalin was pumping and he was moving.
The Black Monk! And he had Gwen!
“Stand still or I shoot the girl,” the Black Monk grated, his foreign accent very noticeable.
Peter came to a standstill, his hands opening and closing in frustration. The Black Monk had been in the shed. He now had his arm around Gwen’s neck from behind. His pistol was jammed against her head.
The others came running and stood in a group beside Peter. Inspector Goldstein and the sergeant both had their pistols out but could do nothing.
The Back Monk glared at them. “Where is the man Durward?” he rasped.
Inspector Goldstein answered. “We don’t know,” he replied.
Joy took a step forward. “He’s not here. Let Gwen go you beast!” she cried.
The Black Monk ignored her. “Then find him and tell me. Then I will let this girl go,” he said.
Peter stared in fascinated horror at the scene. His heart seemed to stop beating and was gripped by icy fingers. Deep down he sensed that the Black Monk was deadly serious and he feared that he would never see Gwen again.
Inspector Goldstein kept his pistol levelled and rock steady. “How will we contact you?” he asked.
“I will contact you. You have a mobile phone. Give me your number. Write it down Herr Schwarze Ritter,” the Black Monk replied.
From out of the shed stepped a dishevelled looking Sir Richard. He also had a pistol but now pocketed it and took out a notebook and pencil. Inspector Goldstein gave them two numbers by which he could be contacted.
The Black Monk next said: “Now back off. Vork back along der driveway. Put your guns down.”
“No,” Inspector Goldstein replied. He kept his pistol trained on Sir Richard but motioned with his free hand for the others to move back. Reluctantly Peter did so. He had been waiting for an opportunity to act but could see none.
One false move here and Gwen is dead!
Inspector Goldstein also moved backwards. The Black Monk hauled Gwen the other way, to the back fence. Sir Richard went with them. He climbed over the low fence and took out his own pistol. The Black Monk passed Gwen to him, then climbed over the fence and told her to follow. Peter marvelled at Gwen’s self control.
If it was me I would be cacking myself, he thought.
The Black Monk again took over holding Gwen. “Now find Mr Durward policeman, or you will never see this girl alive again. And be sure she will die slowly and horribly,” he threatened.
The ghastly threat chilled them even more. Joy gasped and began to sob. Peter had absolutely no doubt that the Black Monk meant exactly what he said.
The Black Monk, Gwen and Sir Richard backed off across the back lawn of the next house. When they were level with the side of the next house they suddenly turned and walked quickly out of sight.
“Quick!” Joy cried. “After them!”
Inspector Goldstein held her but signalled the sergeant. He raced forward, jumped the fence and ran to the other side of the house. He vanished from sight. As he did a car started up and was heard to drive off along the next street.
Joy tried to break free. “Oh quick! They are getting away!” she wailed.
Chapter 24
GET IN!
Inspector Goldstein gripped Joy’s arm to restrain her. At the same moment he yelled at the top of his voice: “Constable Price!”
There was an answering yell from next door. Inspector Goldstein released Joy’s arm and took out his mobile phone. By the time Senior Constable Price appeared Inspector Goldstein had made contact with Police HQ in Atherton and was passing information.
Price dashed up. “Sir?”
“Car, old saloon, Vauxhaul I think, in the next street going that way. After it. Follow and report. Don’t try to close or stop them as they have a hostage. Quick! Go!”
Price dashed off. As he did the Detective Serge
ant came running back. “Same car sir,” he yelled. “They went off along that street and turned left.”
“You join in the chase. Go the other way out of town in case the Senior loses them,” Inspector Goldstein ordered. Then he turned to the others, who were standing in an agitated group. “I am going to search this house. You are to come in and sit in a group while I do it. Two of you: Kirk and Bronsky, are to keep watch out the front; and the other two are to watch the back. Sir Miles, I’m sorry but I must ask you to remain.”
Followed by the cadets he walked around to the front door, all the while talking on his mobile, asking for information and extra officers. At the front he did not hesitate but, with the skill of long practice, kicked the door in. He then held his pistol ready to use. “Wait here.”
The friends stood in a distressed and anxious group at the front while Inspector Goldstein went into the darkened house. After a minute a light clicked on, then another. The Inspector made his way from room to room, switching on all the lights.
From the front came a voice. “What’s goin’ on eh?”
Peter turned and saw a hillbilly-looking man in his early twenties leaning over the side fence. Two more joined him and a fat woman and two children could be seen on the steps of the next house. Peter realized that the commotion had attracted the attention of several other neighbours as well.
“The police are looking for Mr Durward,” he replied.
The ‘Hillbilly’ laughed and pushed his battered cowboy hat back on his head. “The cops lookin’ fer Old Ned! Bloody hell, that’s a first! I never thought the old wowser did anything but weed the bloody garden and go to church.”
“Have you seen him today?” Peter asked.
“Not since yesterdee. ‘e went orf with the two blokes from over the road in their Land Cruiser.”
“What time was that?” Peter asked.
“’bout five O’clock I reckon. What’s ‘e done the old bugger? Wot do the coppers want ‘im for eh?” Hillbilly asked.
Peter didn’t answer but called Inspector Goldstein who came out and questioned the man at some length. The man became very truculent and reticent so the Inspector gained little more than Peter had already gleaned, except that the two men who lived over the road were Americans who spent a lot of time in the bush prospecting.
“Americans?” Joy queried. Peter shrugged. He had no answer to that.
The group were then shepherded into the front room of the house. “Stay here please so you don’t touch anything,” Inspector Goldstein ordered. He then began another, slower, more systematic search of the house, stopping from time to time to talk on his mobile phone. During one of these conversations they heard him say quite distinctly: “Damn and blast! Where did he lose them?”
That sent a shaft of despair through Peter. Joy looked very distressed. Without thinking about what he was doing Peter moved and put his arm around Joy’s shoulders and hugged her to him. “Gwen will be alright. We will get her back safely,” he said, but without much conviction. Images of the rotting corpses on the Pyramid swirled in his consciousness, making him even more upset.
Inspector Goldstein came into the room. “Bad news I’m afraid. We lost them.”
“Where?” Graham asked.
“They went west along the road past a place called Bromfield Swamp and turned off towards the Kennedy Highway near Mount Weerimba,” Inspector Goldstein replied. “If those names mean anything to you.”
“Yes, they do,” Graham replied. “We hiked across near there last year. So they went off towards either Atherton or Ravenshoe?”
Inspector Goldstein shrugged. “Don’t know. Never mind, the police are setting up road blocks in every small town and we are having extra officers called in. We will find them, don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry!” Megan wailed. She burst into tears and Joy moved to comfort her, looking very strained herself.
Graham turned to Peter. “Did you hear what the Black Monk called Sir Richard?” he asked.
“Yes, what did it mean?” Inspector Goldstein asked.
“Der Schwarze Ritter,” Graham said. “It’s German for The Black Knight.”
“That figures,” Inspector Goldstein replied.
Sir Miles pursed his lips. “Black hearted traitor more like!” he hissed savagely.
Inspector Goldstein went back to his search. When asked he allowed Joy and Megan to use the toilet. Time went by. Peter began to really feel the effects of the day’s exertions. His muscles tightened up and he could hardly keep his eyes open. Sir Miles stretched out on a couch and dropped off to sleep, his face white and drawn.
A police car arrived and a uniformed sergeant and two constables came in. They were briefed and set to work searching. Inspector Goldstein came out scratching his head. “Beats me. I can’t find any sign of a struggle, nor any papers which might shed light on where Old Ned has gone.”
Peter pointed through the front door. “What about the men over the road, the Americans?” he suggested.
“I’m just about to investigate them,” Inspector Goldstein replied. He called the sergeant and one of the constables and went off across the street. The friends watched through the windows but saw little. They did hear knocking, then a crash as the door was forced. Lights came on in the house.
A white 4WD arrived. It was the Detective Sergeant. He had nothing to report and was directed to where the Inspector was.
Half an hour went by. Peter went to the toilet, then stretched out on the floor, feeling both very tired and very hungry.
At length Inspector Goldstein returned. “Nothing,” he reported. “The house is quite empty, as though it hasn’t been lived in for weeks.”
Joy looked puzzled. “Did you find out who the men are?” she asked.
Inspector Goldstein shook his head. “Not a clue. We are doorknocking the neighbours now and will have a check done with the Council and the Real Estate people to find out who was renting the place, or who owns it. But we won’t be able to do that till tomorrow unfortunately.”
“What about Old Ned’s daughter?” Joy suggested.
“And his priest,” Graham added. “If he was very religious his priest might be able to add something.”
Stephen polished his glasses and put them on. “The old coot might have just gone orchid hunting. If he was pinching orchids from a national park he would keep that quiet.”
Joy looked scandalized. “Stephen! Don’t be horrible! You don’t know anything about him,” she scolded.
Stephen shrugged. “No, maybe not. Anyway Inspector, what about us?”
“I think I’d better keep you at the police station for the night. Then, when we have more information in the morning, I will decide if you go home; or into protective custody.”
“What about our parents?” Megan asked anxiously.
“We will keep them informed but out of it for the moment,” Inspector Goldstein said.
That made Peter’s mind function. “Poor old Captain Conkey! He will be expecting us to be at Kearneys Flats, down in the Mulgrave Valley; and here we are up on the Tablelands.”
Graham laughed. “I thought you said we weren’t coming here?” he said.
Peter managed a weak grin. “I hope it doesn’t get any colder. We left our packs half way up Robsons Track!”
That made them aware that it was getting cool. Inspector Goldstein made another phone call, then said: “I have called Senior Constable Price back. He will take you to the police station and arrange for you to be bunked down for the night. When you get there you can phone Captain Conkey. Wait till I arrive before you call your parents though.”
They had to wait another fifteen minutes before the Senior Constable arrived. Under the curious gaze of the neighbours they were led out.
Graham pointed. “Can we get our gear out of that other vehicle?” he asked.
Inspector Goldstein nodded. “Yes, but leave that rifle in there,” he replied.
As the cadets extracted their webbing they
found Gwen’s. That was an emotional moment. Peter grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder.
Joy asked: “What about that man who was shot, the Mad Prophet, is he alright?”
Inspector Goldstein nodded. “He is in surgery at the moment but the doctors are confident he will live.” he answered.
“What about the snake bite victim?” Peter asked.
“He will live. We got him there on time. Now get in,” Inspector Goldstein replied.
They climbed in the back of the police 4WD. Inspector Goldstein gave a few instructions to the officers at the house, then climbed in the front. The vehicle started up and they drove down to the main road. As they drove along the main street Stephen pointed to a Cafe. “Food. Can we get a feed please sir? I’m starving.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Have you got any money?” Inspector Goldstein asked.
“Yes sir.”
At Inspector Goldstein’s instructions Senior Constable Price braked the vehicle. “The Police Station is just along there another three buildings. You can see the sign from here. Don’t be long, half an hour,” he said.
“I see it,” Peter replied, noting the bluish fluorescent light on a pole further along the footpath.
Megan looked anxiously along the quiet street. “Is it safe?” she asked. “Do you think the Black Monk might come back for us?”
Inspector Goldstein barked a short laugh. “I doubt it very much. He was last seen driving very fast away from here.”
“What about other Devil Worshippers?” Joy asked.
Inspector Goldstein shook his head. “You are getting paranoid. We have captured the rest of his gang. He and that Sir Richard fellow are on the run; the hunters, not the hunted. Just stay together in a group and you should be safe enough. Now get some food and don’t take too long. Buy it and bring it to the station to eat. And don’t leave your gear in this vehicle. It is going straight out on the search.”
The cadets climbed out, hauling their webbing out with them. Peter kept a grip on Gwen’s gear as well as his own. Sir Miles joined them on the brightly lit footpath. They dumped the webbing on the footpath. It seemed to be colder then and they were glad to make their way into the warmth of the cafe. Peter didn’t think he would be able to eat as he was very upset and overwrought but the moment he smelt the hot food he felt ravenous. He persuaded Joy to buy something as well.
The Word of God Page 29