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A flash of doubt entered Ryan's mind as the bus came out of the corner and he saw a man in a suit waving them down from the side of the road. He shrugged and slowed. There were plenty of men in suits in the country, from farming advisors to insurance agents or lawyers. Probably this guy hadn't driven to the conditions and had hit ice on a shady corner and ended up in a ditch; found his mobile didn't work and began walking to town.
He pulled to the roadside and opened the passenger door.
"We're heading the wrong way," he called out. "But if you'd like a ..." Ryan's words froze in his mouth as he noticed the man raise a small pistol and aim it directly at him.
"Oh we're going for a ride, Pal," he said in an accented voice. "Just do exactly what I say and nobody will get hurt."
He stepped in, admit gasps from the children and glared at Hamish. "Move out of there, Kid. Go and calm the snivelling little brats down. I want that seat."
"Do it Hamish," Ryan said in almost a whisper for he noticed his student had a clenched fist and wild eyes.
Hamish flashed his eyes over at him. "He's one of the bastards who shot Mr Trow and Karla."
"I realise that now but just look after the others for me, will you?"
"Sure, Ryan." Hamish ignored the man at the door and moved to an empty seat just one row back.
The man sat down and glowered at Ryan. "Drive," he directed. "Half a kilometre further on, there is a side road through the trees. Turn up there."
Ryan decided not to play any heroics. Arguing or pleading would be useless for this was no local opportunist but an international criminal who had everything planned out. It was no coincidence that he was on the road just at the time the bus would be travelling through. "Then what?" he asked.
The man smiled grimly. "You're a cool one, I'll give you that. Do exactly what I say and nobody will get hurt otherwise..." His smile never changed but it was the eyes that Ryan noticed. They were like ice! This guy didn't have one gram of compassion and would use his weapon without hesitation, if necessary. The only one glimmer of hope was in that if he was the one who hit Karla, at lease he had not shot her.
"Everything is okay, Kids," Ryan called back as he drove off. "This gentleman wants a ride up the forest road. Afterwards we'll get you home."
"But there's nothing up there!" Hamish's fourteen-year-old sister retorted.
"Hush up, Coira," Hamish looked calmer now. "Ryan won't let this cowardly prick hurt us. Keep an eye on the little ones."
Ryan glanced in the interior mirror. The handful of scared children looked back directly at him. He grimaced and slowed when he saw a break in the trees and the side road. It was deep in shadow and all slushy with patchy snow beneath a small side bank. He also noticed the footprints heading out. So this is where the guy came from? He quivered but fought to maintain calm. The last thing the children needed was for him to lose his confidence.
He slowed to a crawl and purposely drove close to the edge and heard the tyres squish in the mud. As he drove forward, he glanced in the outside mirror. Yes, there were perfect tyre tracks left behind. Anyone looking for them would certainly see that the bus had turned here. The road itself was narrow but had a solid gravel surface that was probably designed for logging trucks. This was a disadvantage for any hope of the bus becoming stuck faded.
"Keep going," the man ordered. "It's only a few hundred metres."
The road curved slightly so the main road behind disappeared from view. There were now just the trees fifty metres back from each side with frozen looking grass filling the space. This was a firebreak as well as logging road. Ryan shrugged. But did it really matter? There were more important things he should be thinking about.
He continued to drive slowly over the slushy surface and slowed when he saw a T intersection ahead.
"Go left!"
Ryan nodded and turned the way asked, along another straight section that still had the wide verges on each side and onto another corner.
As he drove around it, one of the little boys screamed. There, sitting just to the edge of the road was a red and white commercial helicopter.
"Pull in near it," the man snarled and turned to Hamish after the bus stopped. "Get the kids to empty their pockets and stick any mobile phones or iPads in there." He nodded at a small area in front of the passenger door that was designed for luggage and now held a couple of the children's backpacks. "They can put their jackets on but bring nothing else. Try anything and your driver gets it." He raised his pistol. "I don't need him any more."
"Do it," Ryan whispered and turned to Hamish's sister. "Will you help, please, Coira?" He was more worried that she might attempt to do something on impulse.
"Come on Coira," Hamish added and turned to the now sobbing children. "You heard the man, put your jackets on for it is cold outside. Put your mobiles and iPads in the front luggage tray and line up outside, just like we do at school."
"Cheer up," the man's tone was almost pleasant. "We're all going for a ride in that helicopter. Won't that be fun?'
"Not with your sort!" Coira retorted. "When my father catches up with you, you'll find we're no city wimps out here."
The man stared at her but said nothing. Ryan though, felt that chill return to his throat. Even in her school uniform, Coira was quite an attractive and mature girl.
The children were sullen but did exactly what they were told. Two mobiles and five tablets were placed at the front, before the children left the bus and lined up beside it. Coira placed her arms around two younger children while Hamish assured the gunman that all the instruments were there.
"Want me to check out the bus and shut the door?" he asked.
"Whatever!" The man grunted.
Ryan watched as Hamish walked through the vehicle. He turned, placed his own mobile phone and iPad with the others and carried out three lunch boxes and flashed Ryan a strange look before turning to the gunman. "Kids' munch bars and drink. Okay?"
The man shrugged. "Okay you lot, get in the helicopter, sit towards the back and clip on your seat belts."
Ryan though immediately saw why Hamish had flashed that glanced at him. There were only three younger children there. Hamish and Coira's eight-year-old sister, Dolina had remained on the bus!
*
KARLA SAT IN PATRICIA's 4X4 and tried to reassure her companion that there must be a plausible reason for Ryan's bus to be off the road, not that she thought there was one herself. As they drove, she searched the trees they were passing but saw nothing. As they approached one of three side roads Patricia told her about, she noticed tyre tracks turning into it.
"Turn left, Patricia," she said.
"I see them but why on earth would he turn up this logging road?"
"I don't know," Karla admitted. She gripped the seat and stared out ahead in the now dim light. Darkness arrived early in this part of the country. After following tyre marks along the road they finally came to a corner. The bus was there but this wasn't reassuring. There were footprints in the slush around it and the vehicle appeared deserted.
Patricia looked deadly white as she braked and was outside before they'd hardly stopped. Karla followed. A child's glove lay on the ground but except for the footprints, the place appeared deserted. At least the bus appeared to be just parked with no sign of any damage so no accident had happened.
Patricia just stopped and swung around. "There's nobody here!" she gasped. "But look, there are footprints leading away."
Karla stepped closer and noticed both large and small footprints but it was impossible to tell who had made them, Hamish and even Coira's footprints would be as large as Ryan's. She stopped and heard faint crying. Could it be from someone in the bus?
"Patricia," she called. "Listen!"
The distressed woman returned from where she had followed the tracks for a dozen metres and frowned. "It's one of my kids," she cried. "Either Dolina or Elliot but where is it coming from?'
"The bus, I think," Karla walked over and pulled down an emergency lever to open the door.
Patricia brushed pass and headed inside. "It's Mum. Are you there?"
"Mummy?" a sobbing voice replied and two eyes peered out from over the back seat.
"Dolina!" Patricia gasped and rushed though the bus, picked up her daughter and hugged her close.
"Where are the others, Sweetie?" she asked.
"A horrible man came and ... " In a sobbing voice the eight-year-old described what had happened. "Hamish told me to hide in the back seat. I did and..." She burst in incoherent sobbing but finally got the words out. "He took them all, Ryan too, into a big white helicopter with a red tail." She looked up with tears streaming down her face. "They flew away, Mummy so I did what Hamish said and hid on the back seat. I was too scared to even look up when I heard the car arrive... I'm sorry Mummy."
"For what? You're a brave girl and I'm proud of you. Karla is too."
"I sure am," Karla said as she reached over and squeezed the little girl's arm. "Without you we would never have known about the helicopter."
"It was a big one, a lot bigger than the ones that spray Daddy's apricots." She wriggled out of her mother's arms, stepped outside and pointed up the road. "I sneaked a peek. It was up the road there and went straight up above the pines before it turned and headed that way," She turned and pointed southwest. "The horrible man was the pilot. I ducked back so he wouldn't see me, then it went away."
"Come on, we'll get you in the car."
She drove the few metres up the road where they saw the footprints led to long ski marks left by the helicopter. They stopped and searched around, yelling out just in case somebody was still there but everything was ghostly silent.
Patricia turned her 4X4 around and drove back to the bus. After telling Patricia of her decision, Karla ran across to the bus and started it, for luckily the keys were still there. She waved to Patricia, turned the bus and followed the 4X4 at a nerve-racking speed. At the main road the 4X4 turned north towards Williams' farm and she followed. As she drove Karla kept trying the school number on her mobile phone. After four attempts, she gasped for it began to beep.
Roxanne answered.
"Karla speaking. Listen carefully, Roxanne," she said. "We have an emergency..."
*
RYAN GLANCED AT HIS companions. The three younger children, Owen and Aria Meadows sat with Elliot Williams between Coira and Hamish. Ryan sat at the end, closest to the pilot but, on the man's instructions well away from him. They were strapped in and, if it wasn't for the dour situation they were in, the lift off would have been exciting as the trees dropped away beneath the helicopter. It tilted sightly and roared away, so close to the trees below that their branches were twisting in the rotor downdraft. After about five minutes, they rose vertically and headed towards distant snow covered hills, zigzagged so much that Ryan became disorientated but ended up above what would have been a different range of hills twenty minutes later in the dim twilight of approaching night.
He stared out and saw snow covered tussock. They were above the tree line. Ahead were distant mountains and way behind was the green Central Otago farmland.
The helicopter slowed and swung down between two sharp pointed hills, followed a valley covered in snow before rising again over the crest of another hill and changed direction yet again.
"I guess he's trying to avoid the Queenstown Airport radar," Hamish said.
"Probably," Ryan replied. "He knows where he's going, though."
"And where's that?" Coira asked.
"We'll be there soon, Sunshine," the pilot replied. "Get the kids to do their coats up tight. It's cold down there." The man glanced at them in the inside mirror. "If you want to keep the brats safe, I wouldn't advise anything silly, just follow my orders and within a couple of days you'll all be safe in your mommies' arms."
"Mum or mummy," Coira spat. "That's an American word that we don't use."
The man grinned. "Yeah, I heard you were a pretty independent lot down here."
"And why not?"
"Hush up, Coira," Hamish cut in. "It doesn't matter."
The man nodded at the seat across from him that held a canvas bag more like an old military kitbag than a modern backpack. "You'll need that. It has food and other bits, enough to keep you going for a week or so."
He switched his eyes away from the mirror and appeared to concentrate on piloting the helicopter. The engine noise slowed and they followed a ridge for a few moments before a lone building, almost camouflaged by snow, appeared about a hundred metres down the eastern side of a hill. The helicopter headed in until they were hovering above the building. There were no trees around, just a blanket of snow with spiky tussock pocking through in places. Beside the building that looked like an Alpine hut was a small flat area about as big as a tennis court before the ground dropped away into a valley. On the other side, the hillside rose steeply to the summit they had just crossed.
The helicopter dropped slowly towards the flat area but never actually landed. It hovered a couple of metres above the snow.
"One of you needs to get down there and help everyone else down for I am not landing."
"You go Hamish," Ryan said.
"Right!" Hamish pulled a sliding door open. Howling freezing wind engulfed them all. There was a small rope ladder attached to the floor that he pushed out. It blew in the downdraft but appeared reasonably stable. He grimaced, turned and disappeared below the floor.
Ryan heard his yells faintly above the engine noise and saw him waving to indicate that he was okay. "Help me with the little ones," he said to Coira.
"Hand the bag down first," the man said. "Be careful with it."
Ryan frowned but reached across and lifted it into his arms. It wasn't heavy and appeared to be filled with supermarket bags of food. He bent down and lowered it to Hamish who was having trouble standing in the downdraft and knee-deep snow. Hamish managed to get the bag and placed it on the snow before reaching up and indicated that Ryan should hand the children down
Owen, Aria and Eliot were shivering from cold and fear but obeyed Ryan and Coira without hesitation as they were lowered into Hamish's arms. He in turn, placed them on their feet and could seen telling them to move a little way so they were not directly under the downdraft.
"You now," Ryan said to Coira.
She nodded, gave the pilot a glower and almost jumped down beside her brother.
"My argument is not with you or the brats, Pal," the pilot said. "It's all a chess game you know."
"And we're the pawns?"
"Exactly. If all goes well, someone will pick you up in a few days. I would not advise trying to walk out. It's a long way to town."
Ryan glared but decided any remarks would be useless. He grabbed a blanket on one of the seats. "May I take it?" he asked.
"Sure."
Ryan stared at the man before he turned, tucked the blanket under his arm and climbed down the swinging ladder. Something about the guy worried him. There was something in those eyes again. It was what he had not said had frightened him. Everything was too easy and almost friendly.
He stepped off the ladder into slushy snow and helped move the children away from the hovering craft. With a roar, it shot up into the air and headed southwest. Queenstown and the international airport were in that direction.
"Leave the kitbag," Ryan said to the two older Williams. "Get the children inside and light a fire. Everyone will freeze if we stay out here."
Again the five all co-operated and soon they all arrived at the hut. It was unlocked, as expected and smelt of smoky wood. Inside was a tidy living area with a fireplace containing a wood burner that was all set out with kindling and wood ready to be lit. Piles of split dry logs were stacked neatly along the hearth and matches sat on the mantelpiece. This was a typical government hut that dotted the mountains and forest parks throughout the country for the use of hunters and tourists.
There was no generator but several lamps and candles were there, all ready to use and a wetback on the kitchen wood-stove fed hot water to the adjacent bathroom. Off this main living area were two bunk rooms with eight bunks in each. The kitchen cupboards held some basic tinned and dried food and several signs asked visitors to replace any food used and respect those that would use the facilities in the future. Ryan opened a logbook on the table and noticed that the last visitors were trampers from a month before. He glanced through earlier notes in the logbook. This was obviously one of the more remote huts with most entries being made in the summer season but with hardly any at this time of the year. With no nearby ski resort this did not surprise him. It did however, mean that the chance of someone casually dropping in was remote. Their abductor or the gang he worked for had knowledge of the area and had chosen wisely.
*
"WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT the kitbag?" Hamish asked.
Ryan grimaced. There had been few things he had noted about their abductor that were inconsistent. He was a cold calculating international brute from Russia or another Eastern European country who had no compassion what-so-ever yet he seemed to be thoughtful enough to buy them food to eat. Also, in almost a slip of the tongue, he had said to be careful when handling the kitbag. Why the concern?
"Leaving us a bag of groceries is out of character," he said and explained the reasons.
Hamish nodded. "That bit you mentioned he said about us being pawns made me think. In a chess game aren't the pawns sacrificed or used to protect more valuable pieces?"
Ryan nodded and called Coira over and asked if she'd look after the little ones while they went and got the groceries from the kit bag. She frowned. "So what's wrong? Has he poisoned the food or something?"
"No. I'm sure the food's fine. It's the kitbag itself I'm interested in."
The bag was lying in the snow beside the trampled down section made by their footprints. It certainly looked like a military one with canvas sides and an old fashioned shoelace type string that pulled in to close the top with the rest dangling down ready to be slung over someone's shoulders. There was nothing else unusual except that one side appeared to have padding.
Gingerly, Ryan loosened the string until the kitbag was open. Inside were plastic bags with the logo of a national supermarket chain on them. He lifted the top one out but found nothing such as wires attached to it.
"Seems okay," he said after he opened it to find bread, cartons of breakfast food and other items anyone would buy.
He lifted out the next bag and finally the last three. The only difference was that the lower bags contained heavier items such as canned corn, stew and bottles of drink. He reasoned that they were genuine groceries for no wrapping or cartons had been tampered with. There was even the supermarket docket shoved in between them.
"So we were wrong?" Hamish said as he shivered in the cold air.
Ryan shook his head. "Look at the kitbag itself. Why is one side more bulky than the other?"
Hamish peered at the bag. "Can't see much in this dim light but hasn't that inside lining been added?"
Ryan nodded and ran his hand around inside. Yes, one side had no padding while the other had a section sewn in. It wasn't a pocket for there was no outside zipper or entrance. He pushed it very slightly and pulled back in alarm.
"What?" gasped Hamish.
"Something underneath is soft like putty. I think it's plastic explosive."
"So leave it. You're no bomb expert."
Ryan nodded and withdrew his hand. He knew modern explosives were deadly and suicide terrorists could blow up a building with a similar amount as the amount probably sewn in here. If set off inside the hut, the whole building would blow up and kill them all. Even here it could be dangerous if it exploded.
"So it's not linked to the groceries by a trip wire," Hamish continued.
"No it's probably remotely controlled. If we're being held to claim a ransom, all they need to do is explode one somewhere where everyone can see it and make the threat of blowing us up if their demands aren't met."
"So it's safe to carry?"
"I'd say so. For it to just explode now would defeat the purpose of the whole exercise. It would have been easier to just blow the bus up with us all inside."
"So what do we do?" Hamish sounded nervous.
"Get it well away from the hut and leave it. Wasn't there quite a steep ravine on the other side of the hut that we saw on the way in?"
"I think so."
"You take the groceries inside and I'll carry it there."
"No," Hamish whispered. "We do it together. What if you tripped or something?"
"Fair enough." Ryan didn't feel as confident as he tried to sound as he lifted the kitbag without pulling the string top and walked out around the hut. The snow was up to his ankles in most places but the danger of stepping into a deep part was a concern. Hamish said nothing but brushed past and stepped out a track for him to follow. It was getting darker with the first stars beginning to appear while their breath puffed little clouds as they walked slowly ahead.
"We're at the edge of a steep bit. Want me to go down?" Hamish asked a moment later.
"No. Follow the summit along. Can you still see where to go?"
"Not too bad. The snow along the top reflects what light there is."
They walked for another few agonising minutes before Ryan called a stop. To their left it was dark, the snow close to them looked an eerie grey and the twilight had all but gone.
"So do we toss it out or just leave it here?" Hamish asked.
"Leave it," Ryan puffed. "If it blows up now..."
He found a patch of tussock, scooped out a hole in the snow beside it and placed the kitbag in. They stepped back, turned and at a rapidly increased speed, followed their footprints back. The lights of the hut were a guiding light. They decided to leave the groceries until the morning and head for the warm hut. For the first time, Ryan realised how cold he was.
When they reached the door a worried looking Coira opened it. She held the door wide and Ryan was about to walk in when the world behind exploded in a boom of orange flames. The whole area shook and chunks of debris hit the hut roof. Hot stinking air engulfed them all and the sound even hid Coira's screams as she stood opened mouthed and staring out in sheer terror.
Ryan's ears rung as he reached out, grabbed the girl and propelled her inside. Hamish was there too with them all in one big bundle on the floor. Outside, more debris hit the roof, the hut shook like in an earthquake and the orange light faded.
Silence followed!
"It's okay," Ryan said to the shaking girl and the crying children standing by the sink. "It's okay. Hamish and I got the bomb away in time. We're all okay."
Hamish stared at him with his face chalk white. "Bloody close though."
He held his watch up. It showed it was two minutes past six.
Ryan felt ill. He was wrong. The kitbag bomb had been timed to explode at six that evening when they would all be settling in for the night!
*