38

THERE ARE FEW things more shocking than getting shot. But I can tell you that if you’re still conscious and you’re able to move, you don’t rip back your clothes and immediately check out your wound. You’re desperate to know how bad it is, of course, but you’re unlikely to rush the self-examination. Most shooting victims take time to accommodate what’s happened to them, as I did then.

The injured area was hot, and it throbbed like hell. I put my hand under my jacket, and it came out wet with blood. I pressed the palm of my hand hard against the wound and took some deep breaths while the pain subsided. Then I eased myself up to my knees and crawled forward through the thicket till I had a view of the cabins and the stairs.

I spent a minute studying the slope, looking for movement, but I saw none. I would have taken a sounding, but there was a whirring in my ears that was getting louder the longer I crouched there.

After considering various courses of action, I decided my best option was to climb to the ridgeline above the cabins and drop down on Lomax from above. But first I’d have to deal with the damage that her bullet had caused. I slumped back against a tree trunk, unzipped my jacket and pulled my shirt out of my jodhpurs.

The bullet had ripped through my jacket and shirt, and punched a channel through the skin, fat, and flesh at my side. Technically, it was a graze, but it was bleeding freely and it could slow me down, even incapacitate me, if I didn’t deal with it properly.

I put pressure on the wound and crawled deeper into the trees till I found a fallen log to sit on. I took off my jacket and shirt, and held the shirt by its sleeves and spun it around on itself to create a wad of cloth. I pressed the wad into the wound, wrapped the arms of the shirt around me, and tied them into a knot at my good side. Then I put my jacket back on and sat for a minute, catching my breath and settling my nerves.

When I was ready, I moved deeper into the trees, making my way in the semi-darkness, putting distance between myself and Lomax. Once I was far enough away to be safe, I headed out of the trees into another clearing and started climbing the slope I’d so recently fallen down.

The going was easy at first, but then the ground got much steeper, even precipitous in places. And each time I stretched for a branch or a bush to pull myself upwards, a jagged pain exploded from the wound at my side.

By the time I scrabbled up over the rim of the ridgeline, I was puffing like a smoker, and my shirt was soaked with sweat and blood. I took half a minute to catch my breath, and was soon staggering through a stand of banksias on a well-worn track that ran parallel to the drop. From there I stumbled towards the cabins, certain that Lomax was lying in wait for me somewhere up ahead.

I was dealing with this fear when the bush began to thin out, the track started to veer back towards the edge of the ridge, and the top cabin came into view. I dropped to the ground and remained prone for a few seconds as I assessed the track ahead. Then I crawled to the edge of the stairs and examined each of the seven cabins below me. I tried to take a sounding, but the whirring in my ears made that impossible.

What next? Did I go down without a weapon? I’d be very exposed if Lomax was waiting for me down there. Then I noticed that the whirring in my ears had become more intense, somehow, and the nature of it had changed — to a chopping noise. And I recognised what I was hearing. Jenny Smith and her old bomb had made it. I had choppers on the way.

I swung around and faced the far-off whoomping noise, and, as I did, the faint sound of someone coughing came to me from further up the ridge. It had to be Lansdowne. Without thinking, I jumped up and ran as quickly as I could in the direction of the cough. Then I saw something move in the middle of the rock formation that dominated the highest part of the ridge. It was there for an instant and then gone. I stared at the spot for a few seconds, but saw nothing more. If it was Lomax and Lansdowne up there, they had quite a lead on me. On the other hand, Lansdowne’s condition meant that they wouldn’t be travelling very fast. Spurred on by that thought, I took off after them.

The track became steeper and changed from dirt to rock, and I was soon scrambling up a huge granite outcrop that arced gently to the top of the next ridge. Halfway up the incline, I stopped to catch my breath and to check my wound. The bandage was secure enough, though it was wet with blood, as were my trousers. I knew that if I thought too hard about the injury it would rob me of vital energy, so I closed my eyes for a few seconds and drew strength from the sound of the choppers in the distance.

I was down on all fours as I pulled myself up onto the ridge. From there I followed the track through a series of granite boulders and out onto a giant ledge that afforded a full view of the length of the lake. I walked to the edge of the ledge and took in the dramatic vista for a second. And as I moved off, a metal click stopped me in my tracks.

‘Stay right where you are,’ said Lomax, ‘and raise your hands, very slowly.’

I did as I was told, and she stepped from behind a rock wall about ten metres away, her revolver aimed at my chest. I glanced over the ledge but saw no escape there — just a short, steep incline to the rim and a forty-metre drop onto boulders below. I bent my knees and got ready for her to fire. I felt like a soccer goalie defending a penalty kick, except that my aim was to miss the ball rather than stop it.

The noise from the choppers was building. She glanced in their direction, then turned and gave me a hard stare. She squinted slightly, and I pushed off to my right as she squeezed the trigger. The bullet missed me by millimetres, but she swiveled fast, and the pistol followed me.

I readied myself again. I doubted I’d be so lucky a second time. She squinted. I pushed off to my left as she squeezed the trigger, and all she got was the dull click of metal on metal. She hadn’t reloaded! I steadied myself, and then I rushed her.

She side-stepped and tried to hit me with the pistol as I charged through, but I grabbed her gun hand and used my momentum to pull her off balance. I hauled her towards me and jabbed her on the nose a couple of times, sending her glasses flying, and then kicked her left knee, hyper-extending it. She screamed, but somehow slipped out of my grasp. She staggered backwards, then stopped to gather herself, close to the edge of the incline.

It was never going to be a fair fight. She had the revolver up again, ready to club me. I moved in and feinted a punch to her left side, and she pushed off on her right leg to avoid the blow. Then I feinted a punch to her right side, and when she pushed off to her left, the knee I’d kicked collapsed beneath her. She fell onto her stomach and then slid down the steepest part of the incline. The revolver fell from her hand and rattled down the rock past her. She watched it fall over the edge and clatter onto the boulders below.

Lomax struggled to stop herself joining it, her attempts to claw her way back up the incline only increasing the impact of gravity. She grasped at a small bush growing in a crevice, but it gave way, and her hands were still scrabbling as she went over the edge.

I held my breath and waited for the thump from below, but it didn’t come. So I dropped to my knees and eased myself down the gentlest part of the incline. I tested the staying power of the biggest bush near the edge, and I held onto it tightly while I peered over.

Lomax’s fingers were wedged into a crack in the rock face, and she was hanging on grimly, trying to catch her breath. She sensed me above her, but she didn’t look up.

‘I suppose you reckon this is it,’ she said, struggling to get her words out. ‘Copper gets his woman, and all that.’

The choppers were only minutes away now. If she could hang on, they’d save her. Then again, did she want to spend the rest of her life in a cell? There was a shuffling noise on the ledge above me. I turned so fast that I almost lost my balance. It was Lansdowne. He looked exhausted and a bit bewildered. He nodded, but I barely acknowledged him. I faced Lomax again. She was eyeing the drop.

‘It’s up to you,’ I said. ‘And your fingers. You can relax them now, or you can hang on and we’ll save you.’

She adjusted her hold, one hand at a time, swallowed hard, and looked down at the drop again. I don’t know what made me do it, but when she took her eyes off me, I quickly bent down and grabbed one of her wrists, and her hand came away from its niche in the rock.

I had a good grip on her, and I was certain I could save her. But then she let her other hand fall out of the crack, and it flopped to her side, forcing me to cope with her full weight. I couldn’t hold her for long, so I let go of the bush that had been my insurance, and I got hold of her forearm in both hands and began pulling her up.

Lomax hung limply in my grasp until her chin was level with the rim I was crouching on. Then she walked her feet up the rock face, and when her knees were almost touching her chest, she flexed her legs and pushed off, forcing me to let go of her. Our eyes met briefly as she flew backwards. She looked calm in that moment, resigned to her fate. And, seconds later, she hit the boulders below with a grunt.

It was no easy job getting myself back up onto level ground. I took it slowly, and Lansdowne helped me the last little bit of the way. Then we stood near the edge, looking down at Lomax. The thudding chorus of choppers was almost upon us now.

‘The cavalry arrives when it’s all over,’ I said with a mirthless laugh. ‘At least they can go and find Hanley now.’

‘Hanley?’ said Lansdowne, his face contorting as he wrestled with a memory. ‘I think Lomax told him to drive around to Geary’s Gap. Then he was supposed to meet us.’

‘Where?’ I said.

‘Oh! Somewhere around here, I think …’

As if on cue, Tom Hanley stepped from the rock wall into view. He had both hands wrapped around a semi-automatic pistol that was pointed at Lansdowne. Hanley took a few steps towards us. Then he bent down and picked up his sister’s glasses.

‘What’ve you done to her?’ he said, suddenly wild-eyed and ready to explode.

As if in answer, Lansdowne looked down at Lomax, broken on the rocks. Hanley followed his gaze and gasped.

‘You bastards!’ he said, again lining the prime minister up in his sights.

Hanley swallowed, and his weapon moved in his hands as he readied himself to fire. The choppers were close, but death was closer. I looked at Lansdowne. If he’d only opened up to us, even a few days ago, we wouldn’t have been facing this. But while I knew that Lansdowne had brought this on himself, and on me, I was also convinced that I had a duty here.

When I’d trained in close protection, our instructor had always said that we shouldn’t think of ourselves as protecting a person — it was the person’s high office we were there to protect. And right then, I knew I had to do something, anything, to save the prime minister.

I lifted my arm and made as if to throw something at Hanley. He swung his aim my way, saw that I was bluffing, and immediately moved his pistol back onto Lansdowne. So I decided to become a goalie again. Except, this time, I had to stop the ball.

I forced my gaze away from Hanley’s pistol and focused on his eyes. He squinted slightly, like his sister had, and I flew in front of the prime minister as Hanley’s pistol flashed. The bullet hit me in the chest, my world exploded into colours, and everything slowed. The rock ledge moved up to meet me, and I seemed to fall through it. I fell further — much further than I thought I could fall. Then everything went black.