by Ian W Taylor
CHAPTER TEN
FRIDAY AFTERNOON -JABIRU, THE LOST TEMPLE
Jake sped down the road to Jabiru, honking his horn as he tried to avoid cars on the road as people tried to escape from the chaos. He knew he had to get off the main road or he’d be quickly overtaken by the Chinese. He tried to remember what his father had said about an alternative route to the Stuart Highway. He drove past a dirt road on the left hand side and noticed the name Stockmen’s Track on a signpost. With a start he remembered his father had recommended the Stockmen’s Track as an alternative route to Daly Waters. He did a quick U-turn and sped down the track in a great flurry of dust.
Xu and his men raced after Jake cursing at cars blocking their way. The dust and smoke made it difficult to see very far ahead. They had driven for fifteen minutes before they realised they had lost sight of his vehicle. With Xu screaming in his ear, Blakey turned the jeep around and doubled back, looking for any alternative route that Jake might have taken. He saw the signpost for the Stockmen’s Track and from the dust hovering over the road guessed that Jake had taken that route.
Jake looked behind but could see no sign of pursuit and prayed that his ploy had worked. He looked at Koshi who was lolling in the back seat semi-conscious but he knew he couldn’t stop to check his wounds. He fished out his mobile phone and tried to call the 000 emergency number to alert the police but to his dismay found he had being put on extended hold because of an unexpected rush of calls. He punched in his father’s number and cursed as his call went straight to voice mail. He left a message, “Dad, I’m in deep trouble. I’m driving along the Stockmen’s Track with the Japanese P.M. who’s been injured in the bomb explosion at Jabiru. We’re being chased by Chinese terrorists. Can you call the…” Just then the phone went dead and he realised he was out of range.
He sped down the road which was a heavily corrugated dirt track and he struggled to keep the Toyota from sliding off the road. He was determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Chinese and drove as fast as he could without losing control.
Another hour passed before Jake thought it safe to stop the car and check on Koshi. He was now conscious but clearly was suffering from concussion and was mumbling incoherently. He was bleeding in several places from cuts to his head and body. Jake ripped up a T-shirt from his luggage to wrap around his wounds as best he could. Amazingly Koshi didn’t seem to have any bone breakages but Jake knew he could well have received internal injuries. He made Koshi drink from his water bottle and forced him to swallow some painkillers. Jake climbed up a ridge and tried his mobile phone but again there was no signal. With a start, he thought he heard a noise and listening carefully he could just hear the drone of a car engine. Cursing, he tied a seatbelt around Koshi’s body in the back seat of the Toyota, climbed in the driver’s seat and accelerated down the track. It was now late afternoon and it wouldn’t be long before dark. He had to get Koshi to safety in the hospital at Mataranka before the Chinese caught them up.
Another thirty minutes passed and Jake realised that his pursuers were gaining on him. It was now twilight and he could see car headlights not far behind him. He realised at his current pace it was just a matter of time before they caught up with him and had no doubt what they would happen if they were overtaken.
Suddenly a kangaroo sprang seemingly from nowhere in front of the station wagon, Jake swerved to avoid it, giving it a glancing blow in the process and slammed the wagon into the dirt embankment on the side of the road before managing to regain control of the vehicle. Koshi groaned in the back seat as the Toyota swung from side to side. A whirring sound came from the right front wheel and Jake cursed hoping it wasn’t a puncture. He stopped the cruiser, got out and checked the wheel. The mudguard had bent right back from the collision and was pressing on the wheel causing it to wobble. He tried to force it back with his hands but was unable to shift it. He tried to think of his options. There was no way he could outrun his pursuers now. There were no alternative routes to take so his only hope of survival was to find a hiding place.
He recalled his father’s words about the site of the Lost Temple half way along the track and wondered if that might provide an avenue of escape. He had been driving for over two hours and must be getting close to the turn-off. He risked turning the Toyota’s lights on so he could pick up any sign posts. At that moment, to his relief the headlights picked up a sign post to the Lost Temple. Jake switched the lights off and turned into the track. He jumped out of the Toyota and pushed the sign post over, hoping the turn-off wouldn’t be noticed by his pursuers. He got back in the cruiser and drove carefully up and over a hill. In the distance ahead he could just make out some dark shapes and eased the Toyota along until he came to what appeared to be large stacks of curiously shaped rocks. He presumed this must be the Lost Temple. He risked turning the lights on so he could find a way through the rock formations. The track petered out and there was just stony desert in front of him dotted with large pinnacles of rocks. Driving carefully for another 100 metres, he picked up a rocky outcrop covered by trees and bushes and eased the Toyota into a small gully behind some rocks. He stopped the cruiser, fished out a small flashlight from his luggage and searched the immediate surroundings. He decided it would have to do. He drove the cruiser deeper into the bush and parked it. He listened for the sound of an engine but there was only silence. Only then did he look at Koshi who despite the bumpy ride was asleep. Jake checked his pulse and breathing, both of which seemed normal. He scouted around the wagon, broke off branches from trees and bushes and used them to cover up the Toyota. He pulled out the jack handle from the boot of the wagon and after some strenuous heaving managed to lever the mud guard back off the wheel. Breathing deeply to relieve the stress coursing through his body, he took a drink from his water bottle and sat on a flat rock listening to the sounds of the night.
FRIDAY EVENING - JABIRU
Back at Jabiru, order had been gradually restored at the mine site. The fire brigade had put out the fire at the plant while the injured had all been attended to by the ambulance officers or taken to hospital. A team of police forensic experts had arrived from Darwin and were combing over the bomb sites at the mine and the railway track for clues as to what had happened.
It was not so orderly in the town where the Federal and local police had rounded up all the protesters and were holding them for questioning at the Jabiru Police Station. Barry Buckstone once again found himself in custody with the rest of his group of protestors. He was being interrogated by police about his movements during the last week. After providing written statements, his colleagues were released but Barry, as the ringleader, was kept in custody overnight.
The police were going through a similar process with the other protesters and interviews were conducted well into the night. They had commandeered the local community centre as the Police Station was too small to accommodate all of the protesters. All the ringleaders were held in detention overnight for further interrogation the next morning.
Bert O’Shea let himself into the Lands Council Office in Jabiru, grateful to be alive after the explosion at the mine. He needed a stiff drink and kept a bottle of whisky in his office. He was surprised to see the door to his office unlocked, but shook his head thinking that he must have forgotten to lock it. His chair wasn’t in its normal position and his lap top computer was on when he was sure he had closed it down when he last left the office. He checked through his emails and files which seemed to be in order. He did a memory search on his files and his eyes widened when he saw that some files relating to the mine had been opened only few hours ago, presumably while he was at the luncheon.
He rang up Mary, the receptionist. After explaining what had happened at the mine he asked her “Was anyone in the office this afternoon?”
She answered, “Only Barry Buckstone who was picking up a couple of things.”
“Did he go into my office?” demanded O’Shea.
“I don’t know, he was leaving in a hurry jus
t as I was going in.”
“Fuck!” screamed Bert. “The bastard’s being into my computer and copied my files.”
He hung up on Mary and dialled a number. When a voice answered he said “We’ve got a problem.” He spent the next ten minutes talking anxiously on the phone.
FRIDAY EVENING -YELLOW WATER
The media was in a frenzy over the terrorist attack and every major T.V. and radio station and on-line news service were featuring the story. Big bold headlines announced the assassination of the Australian Prime Minister by terrorists. The graphic photos taken by Percy Usifail and the first-hand account of the disaster by Helen Kwang featured in the National’s On-line News Service and were repeated by other media outlets. The black and white flag draped on the train was identified as the flag used by the Islamist State extremist group ISIS. The media commentators were quick to condemn ISIS for the terrorist attack and demanded urgent action by the authorities to capture the terrorists.
The news had quickly spread to Japan where the immediate reaction was one of outrage that their Prime Minister was missing, presumably abducted by terrorists. There was sympathy towards Australia which had lost its own Prime Minister but there was also trenchant criticism of the Australian Government for not providing adequate security for the Japanese delegation.
Anna Sentoro, still shocked by Murray’s death and the mayhem at the mine, was back at the Yellow Water Resort and had set up a war room in the conference centre, staffed by a team of advisers including senior AFP and ASIO officers. As Deputy Prime Minister, and soon to be Acting Prime Minister, she had immediately taken control of the situation. She had appointed John Fisher, the Commissioner of the AFP, to head up a Task Force to find P.M. Koshi, investigate the bombings and track down the terrorists. Fisher issued instructions for the AFP to round up any suspected ISIS supporters around the country for interrogation.
Anna had set up a teleconference with her Cabinet colleagues and briefed them on the terrorist attack and consulted with them on the action she was taking. The Cabinet members were full of questions but she was pressed for time and left her Chief of Staff, Allan Laidley, to discuss the details with them. She then held a briefing session with a badly shaken Japanese Foreign Minister and the Japanese Ambassador. Her most difficult call was to Murray’s wife to convey her deepest sympathy and to assure her she would do everything possible to capture the assassins.
With the media hounding her and her staff over speculation about the Prime Minister’s death she had no option but to announce a press conference that evening.
At 7 p.m. she fronted the media in a packed conference centre at the resort and told them calmly and succinctly that the Australian Prime Minister and nine others had been killed in a terrorist attack and an extensive search was under way to find Japanese Prime Minister Koshi. Except for the presence of the flag on the train there was no clear evidence that the attack was undertaken by an ISIS terrorist group. She confirmed that everything was being done to track down the terrorists and locate the Japanese P.M. She answered questions from the media for twenty minutes before excusing herself from the meeting, leaving her Media Adviser to handle the numerous questions from the reporters. She was escorted back to the war room shaking with emotion, a coffee was handed to her which she gulped down. She had never been faced with such a crisis before and hoped she was capable and tough enough to see it through.