by Jay Darby
“Yes.”
“And what Ferguson told us?”
“Regarding the Secretary?” Lionel’s tone rose, as though he’d come to a realization. “That he protects the Cumal files…”
“Spot on…And I reckon Barrett’s wife will give ‘em to us…”
“Amazing…We’ll have access to KA’s entire network, names of their members and associates.”
“Including those of the bosses who escaped the cavern before the explosion…”
Lionel turned to the rear. “Still no sign of them…I’m thinking, with what we now know about McKinlay and Barrett…Might it be possible to find KA’s associates without the files?”
“Was just thinking the sa--.”
An SUV came from the side road at such speed that Porter didn’t have time to brake or swerve. It rammed into the Landcruiser’s rear drivers’ side and sent it spinning across the road. He fought the steering wheel and struggled to regain control, but the car slid sideways into a tree trunk and stopped. The SUV flipped then rolled and crashed through bushland.
Porter blinked to focus his dazed eyes, then scrambled into the back.
Amber tried to sit up but slumped onto the seat. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead. She looked at him, like a baby deer in a hunters’ crosshairs. “What happened?” Blood splattered on her cloak, she sobbed. “I’m bleeding?”
“You’re okay, sweet.” Porter ripped a strip of cloth from the bottom of the cloak and wrapped it around her head. “Hold that and stay here, be back in a minute.”
She put her hand to the makeshift bandage and closed her eyes.
He grabbed his Glock and a torch from the console then leaped from the Landcruiser. He shone the torch and searched the surrounding bushland for the men who’d chased them. The crumpled SUV lay upside down, the wheels spun. Its’ headlights illuminated the area between it and Porter.
Lionel stepped towards the SUV.
Porter tugged him back by the shoulder. “Where you going?”
“I smell smoke, a fire...” Lionel frowned. “They could be alive?”
“Dangerous, mate. Watch Amber. I’ll check it out.”
Lionel ignored him and strode forward.
Porter cursed his stubbornness and ran past him, Glock aimed at the wrecked SUV. He sniffed the air. Petrol. Small flames spread from the wreckage, fuelled by dry undergrowth. He snapped his arms out straight and tracked movement to his right. A blond KA soldier limped from behind the wreckage, found cover behind a small tree, and fired at him.
Porter dropped to the ground, rolled to his right, and hid behind low scrub. The blond soldier left his cover and headed for a larger tree. Porter took aim and fired. The soldiers’ head exploded, and he fell hard against red dirt.
Porter jumped to his feet.
Lionel pointed towards the wreckage. “Look, one’s still trapped…” His black eyes pleaded with Porter. “The flames are getting closer, we can’t let him burn?”
Porter aimed the Glock at the SUV and stepped towards it. The soldier lay with his upper torso outside the car, dressed in a cloak, face hidden by a black mask. His legs seemed trapped in the wreckage, encased by twisted metal. He moaned quietly and appeared to be barely conscious of the rising flames that crackled around him.
“We have to get him out,” Lionel shouted.
Porter stepped closer, through a gap in burning undergrowth. He squinted and shielded his face from the intense heat. “Reckon we don’t…” He sucked a breath, let it hiss from him through gritted teeth. “This bloke tried to kill us. And Amber…”
Lionel stood in front of Porter, his back to the SUV. “He might give us information and identify the bosses?” He glared, eyes defiant. “I’m getting him out...”
Porter peered over Lionel’s shoulder. He opened his mouth to yell a warning.
Lionel buckled as the bullet struck him in the back. He gasped and gurgled, his mouth flopped open, and he collapsed to the ground.
The soldier inside the wreckage raised his gun again, but Porter shot first and struck him in the upper arm. The man yelped, the gun fell from his hand and tumbled out of reach.
Porter ran to Lionel and bent to cradle the back of his head. “Gutless bastard…” he yelled towards the SUV. “Why?”
Lionel coughed, bright blood spewed from his mouth. A tear dribbled from an eye as he focused on Porter. “Hey,” he whispered, “what’s with all the commotion?”
Porter straightened, there was still hope. “Getting you to hospital, mate. Gunna be okay…”
Lionel moved his head like a turtle, from one side to the other. “Go, get Amber away. Leave me here.”
“Nah, I won’t…”
Lionel’s right hand trembled as he dug nails into dirt. He scooped a handful, brought it to his nose and sniffed it. He smiled with bloodied teeth. “I’m happy to die here,” he whispered. He grimaced, agony etched on his face. “I’m home and at one with the land, at peace amongst my people. They’ll come for me…”
“Nah, you’re not gunna die.” Porter lowered Lionel’s head to the ground, then placed his arms under him and prepared to lift.
Lionel clawed the earth. “Leave me…” His chest shook, he wheezed. “Save Amber...”
Porter lowered him to the ground, ignored the trapped soldier’s pleas for help.
Lionel convulsed. “You’re a good friend...” He gargled blood, a tear ran down his cheek. “Please, Dan, finish what we started…”
Porter clenched his jaw. “Will do...” He watched his mate die.
He strode towards the burning SUV, a gladiator determined to end the contest. He wanted to see the coward behind the mask, the face of Lionel’s killer. He stopped in front of him, flames licked at his boots. The soldier looked up and cleared his throat, as though about to speak, but Porter ripped the mask away before he could make a sound.
Porter recoiled.
The soldier stared back at him, a wicked grin spread across his face.
“Klose?” Porter stumbled backward. “You’re with them? You’re KA?”
“KA129 to be exact,” Fred Klose replied, his tone grand, as though proud of it.
Porter struggled to focus, his mind numb. “But…Why? Lio loved you like a brother.”
“He was no brother…” Klose scoffed. “He stole the only girl I’d loved, used her as his plaything, then threw her out like a dirty whore…Never forgave him, and wish he’d been the first one I killed…”
“You mean before you murdered all the others, who’d also trusted you?”
Klose smirked. “Trust is a game for fools…Lio was nothing but a pest to be exterminated. Same as Rhodes when I pushed him from the cliff. Uncle Simpson and Tommy Davis...Same as you…”
“Rhodes?” Porter yelled above roaring flames. He pointed a shaking finger. “And why’d you help to blackmail Rothwell, against KA’s interest?”
Klose’s face wrinkled. “Get me out…” His voice croaked with panic. “I’ll tell you everything.”
Porter grunted. “Reckon I’ve heard enough...” He turned away.
“I’ll give you names,” Klose blurted. “Yes, I helped Lionel blackmail Rothwell, because I wanted to discredit McKinlay…”
Porter faced him. “Why?”
“My father was KA2, the Chief of Staff. He always did the dirty work, what McKinlay lacked the balls for, and deserved to lead us. But now, because of that fruit loop Barrett, he’s dead, buried in that explosion.”
The movie projector in Porter’s head flicked through all the events that’d sabotaged Carinya. “You and your mates have caused a lot of grief, aside from the victims you’ve already mentioned…Shirley, Lio’s witness in Scotland? Bianca, murdered in the South African hospital? Alec Ferguson? And fuck knows how many others…”
He tightened his grip on the Glock, contemplated shooting Klose between his smug eyes, then decided that justice from a bullet would be too swift. He turned and strode towards Lionel.
“Porter?” K
lose yelled. “Porter!”
Porter knelt beside Lionel, and for a second considered going back to free Klose. But his moral code, harder than concrete after things he’d seen and done, believed compassion worked both ways. It had to be given before received. And Fred Klose, who screamed in terror for the last time, hadn’t earned the right to ask for it.
Men shouted nearby. Porter glanced towards the Landcruiser. In the time it’d take him to carry Lionel to it, the men would find them. He couldn’t put Amber’s life in danger, but couldn’t leave his dead mate in the dirt either…But he had to make a choice. He closed his eyes and drew smoky air deep into his lungs. When they opened, he’d made it.
FORTY FIVE
Porter drove the damaged Landcruiser fast towards the Barrett homestead. Amber slept on the back seat. He phoned Lyn Foster and asked her to meet him, then followed the Navigator’s directions to Barrett’s house. His head rattled as he shook it, a box of scrambled puzzle pieces. Had he done the right thing in leaving Lionel behind? He’d told him to save Amber, and he had, and he was on his way to collect the Cumal files. Lionel would be happy…Wouldn’t he?
Porter braked, then skidded to a stop at the junction of Crooked River road and the Barrett homestead’s driveway. Three meters ahead at the side of the road, Lyn leaned against an unmarked police sedan. He left the headlights on, then moved to Amber in the back seat and checked the cloth bandage around her head. It’d stemmed the bleeding. He carried her towards Lyn.
“Oh, god.” Lyn’s sweet face soured. “What happened?”
“She was knocked out, concussed.” He indicated the sedan’s rear door, and Lyn opened it.
He laid Amber across the seat. “You’ll be fine, sweet, Lyn’s taking you to mum.” He lowered his voice. “What do you remember?”
“You mean, before our car crashed? Nothing…”
“That’s beaut…” He swept hair from her forehead and hoped she’d never be haunted by her abduction, and the horrific events she’d witnessed in the cavern. “When people ask you what happened tonight, that’s all you need to tell ‘em. Got it?”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
He pushed the door shut and turned to Lyn. “Any cars head to Barrett’s place while you waited?”
Her forehead crinkled. “No.”
“Is backup, and the search team from Broken Hill coming?”
“Not sure. Klose was organizing it…”
“Fuck! Call Broken Hill and organize it now.”
“But why didn’t Klose do it? And where is he, anyway? He’s not answering his phone, or the Carinya landline. It’s like he’s disappeared…”
Klose’s last scream echoed in Porter’s head. “He has, kinda…”
Her eyebrows arched. “Meaning?”
He wanted to protect her from the truth. He gambled, and hoped KA would dispose of Klose’s remains and they’d never be found. “Klose’s corrupt. On the run…”
“What? What’s going on? Why are you visiting Barrett?” She peered over his shoulder, squinted her eyes in the glare of headlights, then frowned. “Where’s Lionel?”
He tried to speak but couldn’t.
“Dan, where’s Lionel?” Her voice became frantic. “What happened at Cobb mine?”
He locked eyes with hers and said nothing.
A hand covered her mouth, she gasped. “Wha-. No?” she shrieked. “How?”
“Sorry mate, don’t have time. Later…”
“But is he--?”
“Arrange the backup and search teams. Get Amber to Jane, and tell her I’m okay. Will speak to Barrett about the search, then meet you at the hospital. Alright?”
Her face turned pale, her bottom lip quivered. She opened the car door. “Don’t believe it…”
He ran to the Landcruiser then turned to watch her. “Lyn,” he called out. She looked towards him. “Lio’s okay, mate, he’s where he wants to be…”
She tilted her head to the side, gave a weak smile, then closed the door and drove away.
Porter parked under the carport at the front of Barrett’s house and sighed with relief. Barrett’s private car was the only other vehicle there. He got out, fanned the torch beam over the gravel driveway, and saw no evidence that a car had left in a hurry. He ran to the front door, knocked and called out. No answer. He pulled the door handle. Locked. He called out again. No answer. He ran down the veranda to a glass, sliding door. Open. How about the mesh screen door in front of it? He tried the handle and swore. Locked.
“Mrs Barrett?” He shouted through the screen door, then listened. No reply, only the piercing song of cicadas. Why isn’t she answering? Gotta get the files, quick, and get her out of here... “Mrs Barrett?”
He pressed his hand against the insect screen and peered inside. An empty bedroom. Was she in the shower, or out the back? There was no time to waste, KA soldiers might arrive any minute. He kicked in the screen door, held the Glock out in front, and stepped into the bedroom. He tiptoed towards a hallway and listened for her. “Mrs Barrett, it’s Dan Porter. Your husband sent me. Mrs Barrett?”
No reply, only a loud whirring noise that came from behind the house. He ran down the hallway towards it, through the open back door and onto a timber veranda. The noise got louder, more familiar. The sound of whirring rotor blades. He spun to his right. In the paddock, not thirty meters from him, a helicopter swayed and left the ground. Lights flashed and illuminated a blue stripe along its’ side. He’d seen the same helicopter earlier, at Cobb mine.
He jumped from the veranda, sprinted towards the helicopter and shielded his eyes from the downforce. He fired at it. Bullets bounced off the undercarriage. It rose out of range, killed its’ lights, then disappeared into the night.
Porter rushed inside the house. He found Mary Barrett in the study, lying in a pool of blood, a golf ball sized gunshot wound in her forehead. A false wall, covered in bookshelves, had been pushed to the side. Behind it, a hole had been blown in a concrete wall. The hole revealed a safe, with its’ door ajar. A massive safe, big enough to store a wooden chest. He searched inside the safe with his hands. Empty.
“Shit.” He whacked the safe with an open palm. “Fuck,” he screamed at the hole in the wall. He noticed a message below it. It was still wet, and he assumed it’d been written in Mary Barrett’s blood.
MORE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, PORTER
GIVE UP, FOOL, YOU’LL NEVER GET THE FILES
FORTY SIX
Porter yawned in the passenger seat and glanced at Lyn Foster as she drove them to the abandoned Cobb mine. The rising sun flashed between gaps in the river gum canopy along Crooked River road. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, then slurped the stale coffee he’d brought with him from the hospital cafeteria.
She turned to him briefly. “You look knackered…”
He shifted in the seat. “Back’s stiffer than an old bloke who’s popped five Viagra.” He chuckled, she rolled her eyes. “The chair in that hospital room’s a shocker…”
“Aww, you’re a good guy, staying with Jane and Amber all night. You were worried sick, there’s nowhere in this world you would’ve slept well…”
“True, and I’ve only got myself to blame. Was a bloody drongo to let ‘em come out here…”
“You tried to stop her, but Jane’s a strong-minded woman.”
“Should’ve tried harder…And shouldn’t have taken Lio to the mine yesterday.” He shuddered as he remembered cradling Lionel’s head and watching him die.
They sat silent for a minute. “Tell me the truth, Dan. What happened to him? And who abducted Amber?”
She and Lionel had become good friends, and she deserved to know how he’d died. But Porter decided he wouldn’t tell her about Amber’s abductors, the Knights of Alba. “He was killed during Amber’s rescue.”
“You rescued her from who?”
“Don’t know,” he lied. “We found her inside the house, alone, and thought the crooks had gone. But they came back, chased us, and we crash
ed. Then Lionel got shot…”
“How?”
“Doesn’t matter, but his sacrifice got Amber to safety. He said he’d found his home, that he’d be looked after…But I couldn’t get it out of my head, that I’d left him. Had a contact number for Aunty Doreen at the mission. I called her last night and told her where to find him…”
Lyn stopped the sedan on the side of the road and placed a soft hand on his forearm. “You did the right thing calling her. And you can’t blame yourself for all of this. Your girls survived, and Lio would make the same choices again.”
He broke eye contact. “Reckon so…But doesn’t make it easier.”
“He knew he was dying, and wanted you to survive. He knew you’d finish the job and fulfill his legacy.” She leaned forward and forced him to meet her sympathetic gaze. “The elders will take care of him…Right?”
“Yeah…Let’s go and--” An announcement on ABC radio caught his attention. He increased the volume.
“It’s a bit lou--.”
“Shoosh! Hear that? Something about a crash near Crooked River…”
They listened to the female radio announcer. “It’s 8am Sunday, and repeating the shocking news just in…A helicopter transporting retired Judge Charles McKinlay and Federal Police Commissioner Kevin Watkins has crashed, two hundred and ninety kilometers south-east of Crooked River in the north-western part of New South Wales. Police say the helicopter exploded on impact and despite no remains being found as yet, have confirmed the death of both passengers and a pilot. A Federal Police spokesman said Judge McKinlay, head of the National Human Rights Commission, and Commissioner Watkins were heading to Crooked River to meet with Aboriginal leaders and local officials over concerns of governmental neglect in the district. They were also due to meet with police attached to the controversial Carinya investigation. The pilot is believed to have been a Crooked River local, and his identity is yet to be confirmed. More updates as they come in...”
Porter scoffed. “Bullshit…” The realization struck him flush across the nose like a head-high tackle. Federal Police Commissioner Watkins had been a member of KA’s high council. It explained his resistance to Lyn’s request for a proper investigation into John Rhode’s murder. It explained why Fred Klose had been assigned to Carinya.