by Gary Gregor
The space he chose to hide in was small, but the surface on which he sat, although hard, was smooth and relatively comfortable. In his former military days, he was trained to stay hidden, prone in one position for many hours, even days, without moving and often without food and water. It was the ambush technique, his instructors insisted. If he could maintain the position for a long period of time, it would come down to a matter of just how long he could survive without sustenance and how long he could tolerate the freezing cold nights.
Adalhard slumped lower into the compact natural niche behind the large boulders screening him from below and made himself as comfortable as it was possible. He closed his eyes and contemplated his predicament.
Why did he not do what he originally planned to do and head into South Australia? Had he done so, he would be many, many kilometres into the southern state by now and that much further away from the cops searching for him. The bloodlust had him in its grasp and was not, it seemed, going to let him go. Although he felt confident the police would not discover his hiding place, he had to admit he was closer to being caught now than at any time since he’d arrived in Australia and his killing spree across the vast outback began. If it came to be that by some unlikely stroke of misfortune the police did stumble across his hiding place, he would not hesitate to shoot his way out of the area, and he would be sure to take a few of the Northern Territory’s finest with him. That he would enjoy.
32
Sam and Foley walked slowly around the Toyota four-wheel-drive parked in the public carpark and being watched over by two uniformed police officers from Yulara Police Station.
“It’s the same vehicle,” Sam stated.
“Are you sure?” Foley reached out and tried the driver’s side door handle. It was locked.
“Yes, I’m sure. Look at the registration plate. It is the same vehicle we saw at Curtain Springs.”
“Locked up tight,” Foley said, stepping back from the door. “You know how to get into a locked vehicle?”
“Do I look like a car thief?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Foley responded with a quick smile. He glanced across at the two officers leaning against their vehicle, watching proceedings. “Either of you two chaps know how to get into a locked vehicle?”
“If there was a child, or a dog inside, I’d smash a window,” one of the officers said.
“There’s no child and no dog inside,” Foley said.
The officer offered an indifferent shrug. “I’d smash it anyway. Probable cause.”
Sam leaned close to Foley. “Must be fresh out of training school,” he commented quietly.
Foley looked around the almost vacant carpark. “Who owns those cars?” he asked the two uniformed cops, indicating three vehicles parked in different locations around the parking area.
“The Nissan four-by-four belongs to the victims,” the same cop answered. “The other two belong to tourists still in there enjoying the walks, as yet unaware of what went down. When they come out, we’ll take their details and send them on their way.”
Foley nodded and looked back at the Toyota. “I’d love to have a look inside this vehicle,” he said to Sam.
“You want me to smash a window?”
“What are you going to smash it with?”
Sam looked around the immediate area and spotted a large rock just beyond the low barrier in front of the Toyota. He picked it up and stepped back to the vehicle. “Will this do the job?” He held up the rock.
“Looks sturdy enough,” Foley answered. He stepped back from the vehicle and positioned himself behind Sam. “I’ll stand back here, in case you miss.”
“I won’t miss, Russ. I was a pretty handy baseball pitcher when I was a young lad.” He took a step away from the vehicle, took a couple of practice swings with the rock, and then threw it hard at the driver’s side window.
The window shattered and the rock, along with hundreds of pieces of shattered window glass, littered the driver’s seat.
Sam turned around and smiled at Foley. “I’ve still got it.”
“Nice throw, Sarge,” one of the uniformed officers commented.
“See,” Sam smirked at Foley. “He thinks I’ve still got it.”
Foley removed a pair of plastic gloves from his pocket, snapped them on, and pushed past Sam. He reached through the smashed window and opened the door from inside. “You’ve got something, Sam. I’m just not quite sure what it is.” He removed the rock from the seat and cast it aside on the ground. Carefully, he brushed the broken glass from the seat onto the floor and climbed inside.
“What are you looking for?” Sam asked.
“I’ll know when I find it.” Foley leaned across to the passenger side and opened the glove compartment. “And there it is,” he announced, reaching inside the compartment. He withdrew his hand and held up a box of .45 ammunition. “Point four-five cartridges.” He held the box out to Sam, then lightly shook it and listened to the rattle of shells inside. “Part box … some shells missing.”
“I think we know where the missing ones are.”
Foley replaced the box of cartridges back in the glove compartment, and looked into the back seat before climbing out. “No sign of the gun.”
“He just killed another two innocent tourists,” Sam said gravely. “The bastard will have it with him.”
From the passenger seat, Foley picked up folded copy of the NT News. He quickly glanced through the front-page article detailing the exploits of the Desert Demon before casting the paper aside. “Bastards been reading stories about himself,” he said to no one in particular.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Nothing.” Foley walked to the rear of the four-wheel-drive he and Sam had arrived in and opened up the back-luggage compartment. From inside, he removed two Kevlar vests and handed one to Sam.
“You anticipating trouble?” Sam asked as he shrugged into the snug-fitting vest.
“I hope not,” Foley answered darkly. “But this dude is armed and dangerous. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“Maybe I should wait here with these two blokes,” Sam said jokingly.
“I thought you wanted to shoot the bastard?”
“Yeah, you’re right, I do want to shoot the bastard. You lead. I’ll be right behind you.”
Sam kissed Sarah lightly on the lips and held her close for a moment. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Sarah responded. “You made good time.”
“I told Russell to hurry,” Sam explained as he pulled away. “I couldn’t wait to see you again.”
Foley leaned forward and looked over Sam’s shoulder. “Hello again, Sarah.”
“Hello, Russell,” she smiled.
A few metres away from where Sarah stood, lay the bodies of a man and a woman. Careful of where he stepped, Foley moved closer, and stood looking down at the two bodies.
“Husband and wife,” Sarah began. “Peter and Jane Brockman. Caravanners booked into the Yulara caravan park. Their vehicle is in the carpark.”
“How long ago did this happen?” Sam asked, stepping up to Foley.
“I called you and hour ago. We got the call about an hour before that. By the time I got all the chaps together and we came out here, maybe another hour.” Sarah looked at her watch. “At least three hours. Maybe a little longer.”
Foley looked around at the area. “Where are we exactly?”
“This spot is about halfway through the Valley of the Winds walk,” Sarah answered. “It is by far the most popular walk in the Olgas.”
“No witnesses?” Sam asked.
“No. As you can see, this section of the walk is narrow and overlooked by large dome-shaped structures, thus creating an echo. I’m surprised nobody heard the gunshots”
“He’s using a suppressor,” Sam stated.
“Your two chaps in the carpark indicated that there are still some tourists out here somewhere,” Foley said.
Sarah patted the two-way radio handpiece fastened to her
uniform shirt. “I’m in radio touch with all of my chaps. I understand there are still a couple of walkers out here. There are only two walks open to the public, and we have no way of knowing which walk they are on until they return to their vehicles.”
“I don’t like the thought of innocent tourists wandering around out here somewhere with this madman on the loose,” Foley said sombrely. “How many walkers are there?”
Sarah shrugged. “We don’t know. I’m guessing two per vehicle. That would make four still out here somewhere.”
“More if they are families with kids,” Foley suggested.
“We can only hope there are no children among them,” Sarah said.
“You still got two uniforms searching the area?” Foley asked.
“Yes. They check in with me every fifteen minutes. So far they haven’t come across the last of the walkers.”
“Can you get them back here?”
“Yes, what’s the plan?”
“How many roads in and out of here?” Foley asked, glancing around.
“Only one,” Sarah replied.
Foley patted his vest. “All your people got vests?”
“Not on them. We keep them in the vehicles.”
“Okay, get them all suited up in vests and assemble here. Leave one man on the roadblock and one in the carpark sitting on the perp’s vehicle. The Task Force chaps will be here very soon, and we can organise a systematic grid search of the whole area.” Foley looked at his watch. “Getting late. Be nice if we can have this prick in custody before nightfall.”
“Be better if he was dead before nightfall,” Sam added.
“This place is huge,” Sarah gestured. “If he is in fact still in the area, he could be hiding out in any one of a dozen different walks. My best guess would be he would choose one of the closed walks. There are ten of them closed to the public. Unfortunately, it would take too long to search all of them before dark.”
“Not if we split up,” Foley advised. “When the Task Force chaps get here, we could cover several walks at the same time.” He glanced around again. “Are sure there is only one road out of here?”
“Yes, only one,” Sarah confirmed. “He could walk out the back way, but there is nothing out there but hot, open desert. He would be easy to spot. Even if he walked out at night, there is nowhere he can go except deeper into the desert.”
“He might be already gone,” Sam suggested.
“How?” Foley asked sceptically. “His vehicle is in the carpark.”
“He could have left with someone else. We know he is armed. What if he jacked a ride out with a tourist?”
“Possibly,” Foley mused aloud. “But not probable. I’m betting he is still in there somewhere.”
When the Task Force arrived under the command of veteran Task Force member Sergeant Wayne Donaldson, the fully suited-up members piled out of the interior of the impressive armour-plated Bear Cat. Armed with sidearms as well as high-powered .223mm carbine assault rifles, they gathered in a tight group on one side of their vehicle. There were twelve of them, and they looked ready to do what they came to do.
Sam leaned close to Foley. “Fuckin’ pussies,” he said quietly.
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Foley said with a wry smile. “I think they are the best thing that ever happened to our police force.”
“Really? Have a look at them. It’s a hundred degrees in the shade and they’re all kitted up like Darth Vader.”
“Who?”
“Darth Vader, you know, the dude in Star Wars.”
“The movie?”
“Of course, the movie, Russ; where the fuck have you been? Darth Vader was one of the main characters.”
“I’ve never seen it,” Foley said.
“You live a way too sheltered life, mate. You need to get out more—go to the movies once in a while. You should take your new squeeze. Jessica would like that. How long is it since you went to the movies?
“I think I was twelve,” Foley answered wryly.
Sam sighed. “You’re a lost cause, Russell.”
“And you’re an idiot,” Foley countered.
The OIC of the Task Force, Wayne Donaldson, approached Sam and Foley. “Sam, Russell, what have we got?”
“We think we have the perp who has been randomly shooting people bottled up inside the Olgas,” Foley replied.
“The Desert Demon?” Donaldson asked.
“Shit!” Foley exclaimed. “Not you too?”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Foley answered with a roll of the eyes.
Donaldson looked across the carpark at the Olgas. “You don’t know exactly where he is?”
“No.” Foley indicated the Toyota with the smashed window. “That’s his vehicle and we are pretty sure he didn’t walk out.”
“It’s a big area to search,” Donaldson said, glancing at his watch.
“Yeah, it is,” Foley agreed. “Can you split your chaps up into six teams of two? We’ll add our people to the list and that way we can search several different sections at the same time. Might help get through it quicker.”
“Okay, I can do that,” Donaldson nodded. “Where are the victims?”
“Halfway through one of the long walks,” Foley replied “Sarah Collins is in there with the Forensics team.”
“Okay. If you get your chaps together, I’ll team them up with my blokes and we’ll get started.”
“Aren’t you hot?” Sam asked Donaldson.
“What?”
“With all that clobber on, aren’t you hot?”
“We have been wearing it for a long time, Sam. You get used to it.”
“Gotta be cooking under all that stuff,” Sam said with a shake of the head. “Any of your blokes ever faint from the heat?”
Donaldson smiled. “Task Force members are not allowed to faint, Sam.”
33
From his hiding place, Adalhard Jaeger saw the Forensics police arrive first, followed shortly after by the large black Bear Cat. He watched with nervous interest as twelve black-clad, heavily armed specialist police officers disembarked and assembled alongside their vehicle. Although a hint of nervous energy pulsed through his body, he was not afraid; at least, he told himself the feeling was not fear. They would not find him, even if a dozen more cops arrived. He was too well hidden. He took the pistol from his waistband, clicked the safety off, and placed it on the ledge beside him, within easy reach.
Other than killing as many cops as he could, should they discover his hiding place, Adalhard did not spend undue concern thinking about what he would do if they did find him. If it came to a shoot-out, the cops would have to return fire from directly below him and that would put them in his direct line of sight. Be like shooting tin ducks in a shooting gallery, he thought. He could take out as many as his ammunition would allow.
He picked up the weapon and clicked out the magazine from the base of the butt. Save for two rounds spent on the two tourists in the Valley of the Winds walk, the magazine was full. He should have brought extra ammunition from his vehicle. As he clicked the magazine home, he knew there was nothing he could do about that now. It was what it was, but he was confident they would not find him, so he was not expecting there to be a shoot-out.
He laid back against the smooth stone behind him and closed his eyes. Perhaps he could nap for a few minutes.
“Find anything, Singho?” Foley asked Sergeant John Singh, the OIC of the Forensics team.
Singh reached into his pocket, withdrew a small plastic evidence bag, and handed it to Foley. “Two spent shells. Looks like forty-five calibre.”
Foley examined the empty cartridge cases in the bag. “Same as all the others,” he declared. He handed the bag to Sam. “There is no doubt this is our man.”
“Head shots at close range,” Singh said.
“Also, the same as all the others,” Sam pointed out.
“Are you almost done here?” Foley asked.
“Yes,” Singh c
onfirmed. “I’ll need a couple of your men to help carry the bodies out of here. We’ve got two stretchers, but the trail is so rough and uneven we could use some help.”
“I’ll organise that,” Sarah Collins informed him. “I’ll take one man off the roadblock and one off the suspect’s vehicle. They can join the search when you have the bodies loaded into your vehicle.” She turned to Foley. “How are the search plans going, by the way?”
“We’ve got seven teams,” Foley answered. “Wayne Donaldson’s chaps are paired up into six teams of two and Sam and I will make a seventh team.”
“I’ll join you and Sam as soon as Singho has left,” Sarah offered.
Foley stepped away from the small group, walked a few paces deeper into the valley, and stopped. He turned slowly, focusing on the rocky terrain and the high dome-shaped walls on either side of the walking trail. As his eyes sought out likely ambush sites, Sam and Sarah joined him. “Bastard could be anywhere,” he said quietly. “Could be watching us at this very moment.”
“There’s plenty of places in here he could hide,” Sam observed.
“You ever been here before?” Sarah asked Sam.
“No, never.”
Sarah turned to Foley. “You, Russell? You ever been here before?”
“Yeah,” Foley nodded. “Several times. It’s a big area to search. Lots of nooks and crannies where a person could easily hide.”
“If he’s in here, we’ll find him,” Sarah affirmed.
“Then we’ll shoot him,” Sam added jokingly.
“I would much rather take him alive,” Foley said.
“Hard to do when you’ve got point four-five bullets whizzing around your ears,” Sam advised drolly.
Sarah looked at Sam. “When this is all over, I’ll bring you out here and we’ll take a leisurely walk through the place. It’s really quite beautiful.”
“Do we have to bring Russell?”
“He can come if he wants to,” Sarah winked.