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Life at East Ridge had turned into a sort of limbo with no let up in the snow over the following two nights. Tyler had repaired the generator but the shortage of diesel meant that he only had it running for an hour in the morning and two at night. This meant, though that the mobiles were all recharged and television watched with the outside weather news interesting. Snow was down to sea level over much of the southern parts of the South Island but it appeared that they had had more snow than anywhere except for the mountain resorts. Most of these were closed due to high winds and freezing temperatures but commentators predicted a longer than usual ski season.
Renee was worried about Sofia's wound that continued to look swollen and her whole arm had now stiffened. Perhaps there was shrapnel still in there! Tyler and Ian had made another hike up to the water tank the day before and were assured that a helicopter would be flown in as soon as there was a break in the weather. She glanced up from the pot-bellied stove where she was cleaning out the ashes and saw an apprehensive Aza approach.
"It's Sofia," Aza said. "She's had a relapse."
'What sort?"
"She's running a high temperature of almost forty degrees and has slipped into a sort of trance and was muttering incoherently when I dressed her wound."
Renee followed her companion into the bedroom and found Sofia exactly how Aza had described. Also the sheets were damp so it appeared that she had had this high temperature for quite some time.
"She needs help," Renee said. "We can't wait for the helicopter."
Over the following few minutes hasty decisions were made with Tyler's idea of using the tractor to take Sonja out and Ian going up to the tank to establish mobile contact, decided upon. The tractor was brought over to the front veranda and Sofia carried into the cab. It was a tight squeeze but she was placed on a small mattress on the back seat and covered in a blanket. As Renee could also drive the tractor she squeezed in beside Tyler and they headed out.
*
AZA WATCHED UNTIL THE tractor was out of sight before she turned to Ian.
"I'm coming with you up to the top tank," she said. "Nobody should be alone in this weather."
It had stopped snowing but a wind came up and the thermometer hovered at -10C. Their plan was to contact authorities to explain that the tractor was heading east on the highway and ask for a helicopter or ground party to look out for them.
Ian nodded so they headed out through deep snow carrying as much survival gear that they could manage, including food in case they became stranded at any time. It was no Sunday tramp but Aza noticed that Ian appeared to be sensible and confident as they moved up the almost invisible track. Luckily there were marking posts every hundred metres and her thermal jacket; waterproof ski trousers, beanie, gloves and glasses isolated her from most of the freezing conditions. It took almost two hours but they finally reached the tank and shelter. When she walked around to the other side of the tank her mobile rang.
"Hello, Aza speaking."
"Hi Aza," came back Renee's voice. "We've in range from a top corner. Are you at the tank?"
"Just got here but haven't managed to get anyone yet."
"I've made most of the calls needed. We found this spot where our calls go out. The army is bringing a doctor out to meet us in one of their six wheeled vehicles and if the weather clears, a helicopter will also come."
Aza gazed out but could see nothing as they were surrounded by thick cloud. "What's it like down there?"
"Snowing but the wind's dropped. We need to keep going so will probably go out of range again. Perhaps you can contact the authorities. The search and rescue have given me a number you can use for a direct contact."
She took the number and called in to introduce herself.
"Okay, Aza," said the guy at the other end. "If we lose contact with Tyler we'll come back to you. The helicopter pilot said there could be a break in the weather later in the day and the army guys should reach Tyler's tractor in an hour or so. If anyone can get through, the army will."
Aza felt a little relieved as she walked back to find that Ian had already lit the portable heater in the shelter and though still cold, it was a welcome refuge from the weather outside.
"Here," Ian said and handed her a steaming coffee from the thermos. "Get this into you."
"Thanks," Aza replied as she sat down and told him the latest news.
"So we hardly needed to come up here, after all?" he said with a grin.
Aza nodded. "Renee told me there was usually no mobile coverage at all in the district. I guess that new tower at the ski field helped."
She took off her wet outer gloves and held her hands around the portable heater. Their shelter rattled in the wind but even without a door, they were away from its icy blast and in a comparatively comfortable position.
"Now we're here, I think we should stay put until the weather improves," Ian said and reached for his rucksack. "Want one of those delicious ham sandwiches Renee made up?"
*
RENEE GRIMACED AS TYLER stopped, reversed the tractor several metres and moved forward again through deep snow. Now they were on the plains, the snow was actually deeper than in the hills. As far as she could see the land was a sea of white with only power poles that followed the road on the right showing where to go. The occasional farmhouse looked lonely and dark with only one showing a light.
By staying several metres left of the power poles, Tyler had kept on the road surface but now even their large tractor couldn't cope. The only consolation was that it had stopped snowing but dark clouds around showed that this condition would not last for long.
"Use the bucket like a plough," Renee suggested.
The bucket was the scoop attached to the front of the tractor that was used to carry metal or dirt. Tyler also used it to carry the round hay bales when feeding out. At the moment it was raised high above the windscreen and out of sight.
"It won't work," Tyler grumbled as he slowed to a crawl and the automatic gear selected a lower gear. They were now moving at barely a walking place. "The spikes at the front of the bucket will just dig into the surface and we'll stall."
"Let me try," Renee said. "Sofia is no better and I think her sleep has lapsed into unconsciousness."
Tyler stared at her, shrugged and stopped the tractor after setting the manual throttle to a fast idle. Renee slide across beneath him when he straddled the seat. Once in the driver's seat she reached for the bucket controls. There were several that set the height and angle as well as a lock to secure the settings. She had often driven the tractor and was confident about what to do. She lowered the bucket to twenty centimetres above ground level, turned the outer side about thirty degrees and tilted the whole blade so the front was lower than the rear.
"Isn't that wrong?" Tyler muttered. "If you want to scoop up snow, surely it should be tipped back?"
Renee grinned for the first time. "I don't want to scoop it up. Watch!"
She moved the tractor slowly forward and watched as the bucket scooped snow off the surface. Renee held her breath in anticipation to see if her theory worked. The snow built up in the bucket while the font wheels shuddered but gripped the surface and moved forward enough for the rear wheels to also grip. Meanwhile the snow caught in the bucket began to slide to the left before falling off beside the tractor.
She accelerated ever so slightly and the shuddering stopped as all four wheels gripped and the momentum meant the snow was scooped continuously off the road, up into the bucket and slid off to the left to form a long pile beside the road.
It would not have worked for even a 4X4 vehicle with chains but the tractor could cope with the remaining snow beneath them. Renee gritted her teeth and increased speed. The bucket worked even better so soon they were moving along the highway at a steady twenty kilometres an hour compared with about five a few moments earlier.
Tyler grinned and squeezed her arm. "It was lucky I have you here rather than Aza."
"Yeah," Renee muttered but never took her eyes off the snow ahead. "We make a good pair."
*
"LOOK!" TYLER SAID TWENTY minutes later as he squinted through the windscreen. "Aren't those flashing lights ahead?"
Renee, who was still driving, leaned forward and peered through the glass. Way ahead on the long straight road, were flashing red and blue lights. She flashed their own overhead yellow lights as well as the headlights and sighed in relief when the lights in the distance flashed back. "I think the army has arrived," she said.
Five minutes later, not one but three six wheeled armour carriers and a large truck followed a gigantic military snowplough up the road. The convoy pulled in before their tractor and several army personnel approached.
One, a captain by the three pips on his jacket, stepped forward. He shook both Tyler's and her hands. "I'm Doctor Jeb Rostrom from Burnham Camp in Christchurch. I believe you have a patient for me to see."
While Doctor Rostrom examined Sofia, every new arrival appeared to know what to do. Soldiers with snowshoes searched the area around and found a flat space beside the road. The snowplough moved into position so within moments a rectangle the size of a small house was cleared of snow. Other crew moved in and a large khaki tent was erected and roped down. Renee noticed a red cross on the roof. Gear was shifted in including a large LPG heater.
A sergeant came up to Renee and Tyler. "You are welcome to step inside Ma'am, Sir but please stay at this end of the tent and away from the operating theatre behind the zipped off plastic curtains. Coffee or hot soup will be available shortly."
"Operating theatre?" Renee asked.
The sergeant turned to her. "This is a military field hospital, Ma'am," he said. "Doctor Rostrom is a fully qualified surgeon who has decided that your friend's wounds need to be operated on immediately rather than risk a two hour journey back to Christchurch hospital."
"Oh my God!" Renee gasped.
"She will be fine, Ma'am," the sergeant continued. "Doctor Rostrom has three nurses here who are all qualified in field operations."
She and Tyler could do little except watch as Sonja was carried in on a stretcher and moved into the zipped off area of the tent. An engine began to thud outside and lights came on. An electric generator had been started.
Two bowls of hot soup arrived and a woman corporal who must have been assigned to liaise with them introduced herself as Olivia and sat beside them on the folded-out chairs made available.
"It's begun snowing again," she said. "If it had arrived half an hour earlier we probably would not have been able to reach you." She glanced at Tyler. "I noticed your row of piled snow and trail you made. Great tractor driving."
"Not me," Tyler said with a grin. "Renee drove most of the way. It was her idea to use the bucket as a snow plough."
*
AFTER WHAT SEEMED AGES, Renee glanced up when the curtain zip was pulled up and the surgeon stepped out. "The operation was a success," he said. "You were right for the bullet did exit Sofa's body but in doing so it nicked a bone. Tiny fragments that broke away caused all the problems. I have removed these and cauterised the wound."
"So she'll be okay?" Renee asked.
"She will be sore for a while and may need therapy to restore full movement to her arm but will make a full recovery. We will take her back with us, for a couple of nights in the hospital are recommended." He switched his eyes between Tyler and herself. "Thank you. Without your valiant effort to get her to us, there may have been a different outcome."
Renee nodded and guilt feelings gathered in her mind. She felt responsible for what had happened to Sofia. If it wasn't for her violent ex-husband ...
"Stop it," Tyler said. "Think how much worse it would have been if we hadn't brought Sofia here."
Renee nodded. "As soon as we get into range I'll call Aza with the good news."
She took Tyler's hand and walked through the curtain to find Sofia awake and grinning at them from the surgical table.
"Hi," she said. "I don't remember much about the journey here but know about the tremendous effort you both made."
"All in a day's work," Tyler replied.
"Sure!" Sofia said as she lay back and closed her eyes.
*
JUST BEFORE THEY DEPARTED to head back Tyler handed Olivia a plastic container.
"This contains evidence from the site from where the gunman shot Sofia. It's just a cigarette butt and empty beer can but could you hand it to the police when you get back?"
"Certainly. I'll see that nothing contaminates the evidence." Olivia glanced at Tyler's tractor. "If you need any fuel to get home we can sell you some at the commercial rate."
Tyler grinned. "I didn't want to tell Renee but we are under half full so it would have been a close call. I would appreciate a top up."
He left Olivia and walked across to where Renee was saying goodbye to Sofia who was lying on a stretcher at the back of the truck
"You keep in touch," he said to Sofia. "Come back and visit sometime when you get tired of the big smoke."
"Sofia held her hand out from under a blanket and gripped his. "I will," she said. "After all, Aza and I never got our ski holiday, did we?"
The tent came down as quickly as it went up so soon flattened snow was all that remained of the field hospital. A couple of soldiers pumped diesel into the tractor's tank, final thanks and goodbyes were said and Tyler slipped his arm around Renee as they watched the convey headed away.
"Funny," he said. "It seems as if we've known Sofia for years, not just a few days. I hope she'll be okay."
Renee glanced up at him and nodded. "She will be. I just hope that gunman doesn't come back,"
"And the police find out why all this happened," Tyler added and turned towards the tractor. "Shall I drive?"
*
JOVANOVIC WAS RELAXED as he approached the international counter at Queenstown airport. It was just after noon and, as usual he waited towards the end of the queue looking like an ordinary tourist. When he reached the counter to show his ticket and passport, the clerk hardly glanced up. "Is your luggage is already here, Mister Ursu?" she asked in a bored tone after passing his European passport over a scanner.
"Booked it in earlier," Jovanovic said. He had purposely used a southern European fake name so his thick English accent would sound authentic.
As he slung his hand luggage over his shoulder and stepped towards the loading gate, two men in business suits stepped in beside him. He also noticed two uniformed police officers further back.
"We want no trouble, Mr Vilko Jovanovic," hissed the nearest man and flashed an identity card before him. "I am Detective Sergeant Brody Cleveland and am arresting you for the attempted murder of Miss Sofia Hawkins at the settlement of East Ridge." He continued on in a monotone as a uniformed police officer stepped forward and Jovanovic found handcuffs clapped on his wrists behind his back.
His mind was in a whirl. How could they have found him so quickly? How did they know his real name? He had never heard of the woman they mentioned and why did they say attempted murder? Had the bitch survived?
In spit of his protestations about being wrongfully identified he was almost frogmarched through a side door and, none too gently pushed into a chair where he noticed his luggage sitting on an adjacent bench.
Detective Sergeant Cleveland walked in, sat behind a desk and glowered at him. "Your departure from New Zealand has been postponed. Mr Jovanovic," he muttered in an icy voice. "I doubt if you'll be leaving our shores for quite some time." He glanced up. "You have managed to accumulate a multitude of international crimes over the last few years, haven't you? Got complacent with a beer can and cigarette butt, though. Completely unprofessional, wouldn't you say?"
*
AT THE QUEENSTOWN POLICE Station interview room, Brody was intrigued by Jovanovic's replies to his questions. Sure, the man was a professional criminal and could lie without even twitching an eyelid but some of his mannerisms showed that some of his statements had an element of truth.
He pushed photos of four women across the desk, including that of Sofia Hawkins and Renee Stevens and glanced up at the man.
"I reiterate, which of these young woman were you contracted out to assassinate?"
Jovanovic sighed as he glanced his eyes over the photographs.
"I am sorry for the young woman I accidentally shot but I mistook her for a deer floundering in the snow."
"Do you recognise any of these women?" Brody hissed.
"Typical blondes whose ancestors probably came from one of the Nordic countries. I prefer southern European brunettes myself." Jovanovic grinned and crossed his legs. "Less inhibited, you know!"
"I would advise you to co-operate Mr Jovanovic." Brody clicked his computer over to a new page. "We have received a request from both United Kingdom and Russia to extradite you into their custody. I'll let you guess what country would offer you a better deal. I hear the Russians have increased their number of capital punishment sentences where-as the UK has no death penalty."
In spit of the passive stare, he noticed the man's cheek twitch ever so slightly. After almost two hours he had finally struck a nerve. Jovanovic glanced at the photographs and slid a finger over to the photo of Sofia.
"This could be the girl I mistook for a deer," he said.
"And you recognise nobody else?"
This time Jovanovic actually studied the three other photos. "No."
"Look again," Brody hissed.
"I tell you. I have never seen any of the women before." He shrugged and a little of his arrogance returned. "Of course, all blondes look alike to me."
Brody gathered the photographs up and placed four more on the table.
"Were any of these women your intended target, Mr Jovanovic?" he asked.
When Jovanovic's eyes swept across the four photos he said nothing. However, Brody noticed that his glance stopped and switched back to the second photograph for just a second. So he did recognise the woman shown. That was interesting!
"More blondes. Good lookers but none that I've had the pleasure to meet."
"You will be taken to the district court and charged with reckless use of a firearm and entering our country illegally by using a false passport, Mr Jovanovic. What charges follow and where you'll be deported to will depend on your co-operation. "
Brody grimaced as the prisoner was escorted out of the room. The interview was partially successful for he was quite sure that Jovanovic was a paid assassin but who had employed and paid him the money they had found hidden in the lining of his luggage? And what about the woman he showed that brief flicker of interest in? He brought his computer back on line and clicked on the photograph to show details about her.
"That's interesting," he muttered to himself and reached for his mobile.
*