Desert Demon (Foley & Rose Book 7)

by Gary Gregor

  “He doesn’t want to,” Sam said.

  “How do you know? You haven’t asked him.”

  “He’s too busy on his days off. He has a girlfriend now,” Sam said, as if that explained everything.

  Foley faced both Sam and Sarah. “Hey, I’m right here,” he said indignantly. “Are you two gonna stand there discussing my love life or are we gonna find the bad guy?”

  “We’re going to find the bad guy,” Sarah replied quickly.

  Sam leaned close to Sarah. “Not only does he have a girlfriend, he’s bloody grumpy.”

  The Forensics van with the bodies of the Brockmans inside drove slowly across the carpark towards the entrance and then onwards on the journey to Alice Springs. The Task Force members were engaged with checking their equipment and preparing to start the search.

  Sam leaned closer to Foley and spoke quietly. “Have a look at them … make sure they look the part.”

  “Your chaps ready?” Foley asked Wayne Donaldson, ignoring Sam.

  “Yes,” Donaldson answered. “Where do you want us to start?”

  Foley indicated the track that led to the Valley of the Winds walking trail. “Start at the beginning. That’s the Valley of the Winds; it is the longest walk. The bodies were discovered about halfway through. Sam, Sarah and I will start with the Walpa walk. We will all assemble back here in the carpark when all walks have been searched.”

  “Roger that,” Donaldson said.

  “Be careful, Wayne,” Foley cautioned. “This bastard will not hesitate to shoot if he’s cornered.”

  “We are well prepared,” Donaldson responded and indicated to two of his team. “Let’s go lads.” Before he left the carpark, he addressed the rest of team. “Everybody locked and loaded?”

  “Yeah, locked and loaded,” his 2IC answered on behalf of the team.

  “Okay, you all know what you need to do,” Donaldson ordered. “Take your time. Be alert and thorough. Most of all, be careful. The perp is almost certainly in there somewhere. He will be hiding somewhere, and he will not advertise his position. Move out, and good hunting.”

  He and the two men allocated to him turned away and left the immediate area, walking towards the start of the Valley of the Winds trail. The remainder of the Task Force members split into their small teams and set off towards the various walks.

  “Impressive to watch,” Foley said absently as he watched the Task Force move out of the carpark.

  “Humph,” Sam chuffed.

  “What?” Foley asked.

  Sam shrugged. “Nothing.”

  The Walpa walk was one of the few narrow gorges in the Olgas. It was also one of the now permanently closed walks—closed at the request of the local aboriginal landowners. Towards the centre of the walk, a tall person could reach out with both hands and touch both sides of the smooth dome walls that towered above the trail, blocking most of the sunlight from penetrating to the floor of the trail. The temperature here was cooler by a few degrees, making walking a little more comfortable.

  Sam, Foley, and Sarah walked slowly and cautiously along the narrow winding trail, compacted by years of tourist foot traffic through the gorge. Foley led, followed by Sarah, and then Sam at the rear. So far, they had seen nowhere anyone could hide.

  At the narrowest part of the trail, Foley stopped and turned to face Sarah and Sam. “You both okay? No claustrophobia?”

  “No,” Sarah and Sam said in unison.

  “Look at this place,” Sam said, gazing about. “It’s so narrow; there’s nowhere anyone could hide.”

  “It gets wider a little further on,” Sarah explained. “Plenty of large boulders and small bushes all the way to the other end.”

  “I remember this walk,” Foley said. “Sarah is right. The gorge is considerably wider up further. Lots of places one could hide. We need to keep our eyes open. It would be easy to walk right past him, if he’s in here.”

  “How long is it since you last walked through here?” Sam asked.

  “I dunno, three years maybe,” Foley answered. “Why?”

  “You’ve put weight on,” Sam pointed out. “You might have to turn sideways if the trail gets any narrower.”

  “Are you both ready to continue?” Foley asked, ignoring the gibe. He turned to face forward and continued walking.

  Approximately 100 metres further along the trail, the gorge widened gradually to about 150 metres across, offering a large expanse of spindly scrub and spinifex grass. Many huge boulders, some the size of a small car, littered the ground on the right-hand side of the trail. The trail itself hugged the left side of the widening gorge. Here, Foley, Sarah, and Sam paused.

  “We’ll take a break here,” Foley stated. “Look across the gorge. It would be easy to hide out there somewhere.”

  “Should we split up and search the area?” Sarah asked.

  “Better if we stayed together,” Foley replied. “It’s a big area and, while it might be quicker to split up, we should stay together. Safety in numbers.”

  High above the trail, almost halfway up the face of the left-hand dome, Adalhard Jaeger flattened himself against the wall of the dome behind him, the large boulder in front of him making him invisible from below, should anyone look up. From his position, he could not see the police on the trail below him, but he knew they were there; he could hear them as they talked amongst themselves. As he waited, he wondered just how long they would stay before continuing their search.

  His leg was beginning to cramp. There was not enough room in the compact space to spread his legs out flat and ease the aching. His legs were bent, and his knees were pushed up close to his chest. He placed his hands on the ground on either side of his body and pushed upwards, thinking it might help. It didn’t. The longer he stayed in the contorted position, jammed between the dome behind him and the boulder in front, the pain was going to get worse.

  He had to move. Slowly, he turned his body sideways and, with supreme effort, managed to get himself into a kneeling position. The pain eased a little. He knew he could not remain on his knees for too long as the pain would surely return. He was still hidden from view behind the boulder but if he raised himself just a little, he could see over the top of the boulder into the gorge below.

  It seemed like hours but, in reality, it was no more than a few minutes. He had to move. Again. The pain, concentrated now behind his bended knees, had become unbearable. He picked up his gun, laying on the ground beside him, and prepared to stand. It was a risky move. The cops were still on the floor of the gorge below him. If they looked up, he would be discovered. Leaning against the boulder in front of him for support, he pushed himself to his feet and almost fell.

  He had lost almost all the feeling in his legs and he stumbled forward, his body crashing silently and awkwardly against the large boulder sitting precariously on the lip of the narrow ledge. One leg threatened to fold and give way beneath him as he stepped on a patch of loose gravel. Round and as smooth as small beads, his foot began to slide from under him and several of the small pebbles slid across the smooth surface of the ledge and rolled over the side.

  He grasped clumsily at the boulder, his arms spread-eagled across its girth and his cheek flat against the smooth surface. He steadied himself, struggling to bring his fast and shallow breathing under control.

  34

  “What was that?” Sarah asked as several small pebbles fell at her feet.

  “What was what?” Foley asked.

  Sarah indicated the tiny pebbles. “Those stones. Look, they look like shiny marbles.”

  Foley looked up. “They fell from up there.” He pointed up the side of the dome.

  “Quick!” Sam urged. “Flatten yourselves against the dome. He’s up there!”

  Immediately, they all moved closer to the dome and pressed themselves against the side.

  “Are you sure he’s up there?” Foley asked under his breath.

  Sam indicated the small group of pebbles on the ground in the middle of the
walking trail. “Those stones didn’t fall down by themselves. They had some help from above.”

  Foley and Sarah cast their eyes upwards.

  “Look. There’s a ledge up there. See the big boulder perched on the edge. I think he’s behind that boulder.”

  “How did he get up there?” Sarah asked.

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m willing to bet the bastard is up there.”

  “We should move,” Sarah suggested.

  “No,” Sam responded with a shake of his head. “If we stay up close to the dome, he would have to expose himself and reach right out, and down, to get a clear shot at us. If he does that, it will give us a clear shot at him.”

  “We could make a break, out into the open, and head for one of those large boulders out there.” Foley indicated the centre of the gorge.

  “Too dangerous, Russ,” Sam said. “He would pick us off before we got halfway out there.”

  “Well, we can’t just stay here,” Foley argued.

  Sam unholstered his service weapon. “Sarah has a radio. If she calls one of her chaps and raises the alarm, we will have Task Force here in about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes”

  “The trail is far too narrow to have that many people crowded in here,” Sarah told him. “If that really is him up there, he would have a field day picking off cops, one after another.”

  “We could just wait him out,” Sam offered. “He’s gotta come out sooner or later.”

  “It will be dark soon,” Foley pointed out. “And freezing bloody cold. We need to flush him out from behind that boulder.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” Sam asked with a frown.

  Foley paused for a moment, planning on the run. Finally, he came up with an idea and laid it out for Sam and Sarah. “He can’t climb out. Above him are twenty or thirty metres of sheer, smooth rock-face. There are no hand or foot holes to support him. And what would he do if he could climb out? There is no way out for him except down … if he did manage to make it to the top. How about one of us makes a break for the boulders out there in the centre of the gorge? He would have to step out into the open to get a clear shot at the runner. The other two have their weapons sighted on the boulder up there and, when he sticks his head out, they take him out.”

  “Who’s going to make the run?” Sam asked sombrely.

  “I’ll toss you for it,” Foley said.

  “What about me?” Sarah asked. “I can probably run faster than both of you.”

  “No,” Sam said hurriedly. “It’s high risk for whoever makes the run. I want you to stay here.”

  “But—”

  “Sam’s right,” Foley interrupted her. “You need to stay here. You’re probably also a better shot than either Sam or myself.”

  Sam patted his pockets. “You got a coin?”

  “No,” Foley answered. “Sarah, you got a coin?”

  “Yeah,” Sarah scoffed. “Like I take my purse on a manhunt.”

  “How about rock, paper, scissors?” Sam suggested.

  “Okay,” Foley agreed. “Best out-of-three?”

  “No,” Sam said. “No best-out-of-three bullshit. One shot and that’s it. Loser makes the run.”

  “I prefer winner makes the run,” Foley stated.

  “Why?” Sam asked.

  “Because I always win against you.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Sam declared, then shrugged. “Okay, winner makes the run.”

  Both men put out their hands to start the game.

  Sarah ran. She crouched low and sprinted away from the walking trail, making for the nearest boulder some60 metres away from where Sam and Foley stood.

  “No!” Sam called loudly. “Sarah, come back here!”

  Sarah weaved as she ran. The ground underfoot was rough and uneven, and her pace slowed considerably. In an effort to maintain a certain degree of fitness, she ran as often as the demands of her position at Yulara would allow, but here the terrain was far different than what she was used to, and it would be easy to step the wrong way onto a small rock and stumble and fall.

  Zigzagging across the open ground, it was taking longer than she hoped to reach the protection of the boulder she was headed for. Behind her, Sam and Foley called desperately but she dared not stop. She had to keep going.

  Then, it happened. A bullet zinged past her head and soared into the ground several metres in front of her, kicking up a puff of dirt and dust. The perp was shooting at her. She was only halfway to the protection of the boulder. She urged herself onwards, pushing her body as hard as she could.

  “Shit!” Sam exclaimed. “Shit! The bastard is shooting at her!” Followed closely by Foley, he stepped outwards, away from the protection of the dome wall, and raised his weapon.

  “There he is!” Foley motioned. “He’s out in the open. Take him out, Sam!”

  Both men fired upwards. They could not afford to miss. Missing would give the perp time to take more shots at Sarah, who had still not reached the boulder she was headed for.

  Three bullets hit Adalhard Jaeger. One took him in his right shoulder, one grazed his neck, and the third hit him low in the stomach. He staggered backwards, hit the obstruction of the dome wall behind him. and then fell forward, his feet scrambling to gain purchase on the narrow ledge.

  As if in slow motion, he teetered for a moment on the very edge of the precipice before rolling forward uncontrollably over the edge. His body hit the ground with a sickening thud in the centre of the narrow walking trail, a metre or so in front of Sam and Foley.

  “Shit,” Sam cursed.

  “Shit indeed,” Foley said softly.

  “That stopped the bastard.” Sam turned and looked across the open ground towards where he had last seen Sarah.

  She had stopped running and stood motionless, staring back at Sam and Foley. “Is he dead?” she called across the open ground.

  “Very,” Foley confirmed.

  Sam looked back at the body of Adalhard Jaeger sprawled face-down on the walking trail. “Where’s his gun?”

  “I think he’s lying on top of it,” Foley answered. “Better get it, in case he’s not dead.”

  “He’s dead,” Sam declared. “If the bullets didn’t kill him, the fall would have.”

  Sarah hurried back to the walking trail, stopped alongside Sam and reached for his hand. “Is he dead?”

  “Yes, he’s dead,” Sam answered. “What the hell were you thinking, dashing out there like you that? You could have been killed.”

  “I wasn’t.” Sarah gripped his hand tighter and smiled wanly at him. “I didn’t really think about it, I just went for it. Besides, I couldn’t stand here waiting for you two to play some stupid game.”

  “Rock, paper, scissors is not a stupid game,” Sam said. “Russell and I play it all the time when deciding who pays for lunch.”

  “Who wins?” Sarah asked.

  “Nearly always me,” Foley replied. “We play loser buys lunch.”

  “Yeah,” Sam confirmed. “And on the rare occasion I do win, I still have to pay for lunch because Russell never has any money on him.”

  Sarah smiled.

  Foley smiled.

  Sam looked from Sarah to Foley. “What are you two smiling about?”

  “After all these years working together, you still haven’t worked Russell out,” Sarah answered. “Why is that, do you think?”

  “Because I’m an idiot?’ Sam answered with a wry smile.

  THE END

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  Author Bio

  Gary Gregor is a
Vietnam Veteran and a retired Northern Territory police officer. His military and police background have provided him with the necessary life experiences needed to bring credibility to his writing and characters.

  A voracious reader, particularly of crime fiction, he learnt to escape into the fascinating world of fictional story telling while growing up in a small, rural farming community in South Australia

  Since retirement, Gary lives with his wife Lesley in a small, over 50s Lifestyle Village in the beautiful Northern New South Wales seaside town of Yamba, where he has taken his love of the written word to the next level. When not writing, he loves to play guitar and sing to entertain his fellow community members and travel around Australia with Lesley.

  For Gary, the age-old author’s maxim ‘one thousand words per day’ does not always work, but when at home, he loves to write a little – or sometimes a lot – of something worthwhile every day. He firmly believes that honing the craft of writing has to beat pruning roses in the garden!