They weren’t making any attempt to keep quiet – and that was the most frightening thing. I heard the engine first, then car doors slamming. The Pajero was down on the beach.
We could hear them talking too, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was terrifying though, listening to them. As if they wanted us to hear, as if they were hoping we’d panic. Break cover and make a run for it. And if we’d been hiding down there by the beach, I think we probably would’ve.
Kat wasn’t far behind me when we first heard them, and we dived off the track together, a sprawling tangle hidden in the undergrowth. We’d expected to come across them eventually, but it was still a shock. I could feel her, tense and trembling beside me, and my whole body was thumping as my pulse rate red zoned. Somehow, I’d twisted my knee again scrambling for cover. It was throbbing, but I ignored it. More important things on my mind.
“I can see them,” whispered Kat.
She moved aside slightly and pointed. I could see them too through a gap in the foliage. We were much closer to the bottom than I’d thought, and the Pajero was only a couple of hundred metres away, parked on the sand.
A man was leaning against the bonnet. Jeans, a bomber jacket – and a pair of binoculars. He was searching the beach, sweeping the foreshore. A second man came into view and they stood together in front of the Pajero. The one with the binoculars continued to scan the coastline, and I thought the other one was talking to him. Finally, the glasses were lowered. They were gazing along the beach below us, and pointing. Then they turned, peering the other way. Again, one of them was pointing, but I couldn’t see what they were looking at. The one with the binoculars walked around the Pajero and opened the driver’s door. He reached into the front seat and then stood up, slipping something into his jacket. A gun? The two men parted company, one moving along the beach away from us, while the other came in our direction, moving out of sight below us.
“Look …” breathed Kat beside me. “They’re searching the beach.”
I didn’t answer. Eased myself into a sitting position and carefully straightened my knee. It was tender to touch and swollen, but I didn’t think it was going to cripple me. And most of the pain in my chest had gone.
Kat was thinking, her bunched knuckles pressed against her teeth. “That Pajero’s just sitting on the beach. Maybe we could nick it while they’re not there – get away in it.”
“Great idea,” I said sarcastically, and she flashed me an angry look. “Sorry.” I was scrabbling to make up lost ground. “Too risky. We don’t know how many are down there. There could be others.”
“There were only two of them in the Pajero when it came to the cottage.”
“Yeah, but we know there are others. What about that guy Rastas?” No way was I going out there in the open to nick that four-wheel drive. “And the keys aren’t likely to be in it.”
“You’re scared.”
“Of course I’m bloody scared.”
Kat put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “So am I. And it was a stupid idea.” She turned away, parting the branches to peer down at the Pajero. One of the searchers was visible in the distance, still moving away from us. No sign of the other one.
“But we can’t stay here either.” She hooked her hands into her hair. “We’ve got to get away from here somehow. Get back to town and get help. They might’ve snatched Blissy. Even if we go to the cops–”
“We’ll have to go to the cops. There’s no one else.”
“No, I suppose there isn’t. Kreigler told us he was calling the company for backup. But even if they’ve sent someone, we wouldn’t know how to find them.” She clenched her fists, staring at them. “Anyway, we’ve got to get off this track. They’re not stupid. Soon as they work out we’re not on the beach and the motorbike’s not down there, they’ll come back up the track looking for us. And we need to be well out of here.”
“Like where?”
“Well, they’ll already have searched Jed’s shack. I know a good hiding place down there. I reckon we could get to it while they’re still out on the beach.”
“What if there are more than two of them down there?” It sounded about as risky as stealing the Pajero.
“Then we need to keep our eyes open.” She looked at me, eyes challenging. “Got a better idea?”
I shook my head. “No. But we can’t stay here. Those bastards could be coming back anytime.”
She was right about the hiding place. It had been built for the job, like a secret cellar. “There’s an old still in here,” whispered Kat, pushing aside a section of shelving. A false wall with a dimly lit space behind it.
“A what?”
“A still. For making whisky.”
We were inside the old stone hut that Jed used for storing his home-brew. It was nestled into the bank behind his shack, a dank, gloomy lean-to, stinking of cannabis and stale beer. But I was glad of it. Coming down that last bit of track had been really frightening, and I was jumpy as hell. We’d made it. Nobody had shot at us, no sign they’d even caught sight of us. We’d eased ourselves through the opening, into a tiny hiding place. Not much more than a cupboard. It was less than a metre deep by about two metres, stretching across one end of the shed. The only light seeped in through a tiny panel of frosted glass set in the roof. Even smaller than a cupboard, because one end was completely taken up with a copper tank and a weird spiral of copper pipe rising to the ceiling. Kat slid the wall section shut.
“Bloody hell,” I whispered. “How did you find out about this?”
“Jed showed me. The old codger who used to live here. He made whisky in it, way back in the old days when alcohol was illegal. That’s why it’s all so well hidden.”
“Wow. They’ll never find us in here. We could stay put till they go away.”
“Yeah. But first chance we get, we ought to make a move. Need to think about Blissy.” Kat eased herself to the floor and sat leaning against the wall, arms around her knees, drawing them to her chest. I sank down beside her. She mumbled something to herself, and I missed it.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking I haven’t done too well lately. Not to the people around me.” She swallowed, but it might’ve been a sob.
“What d’you mean?” I whispered. “I reckon you’ve been bloody marvellous.” I looked at her, but in the gloomy light, I couldn’t work out what she was thinking. Something was rustling inside the wall. Rats, I guessed. I wiped the remains of a spider’s web out of my hair and shuddered.
“I never trusted Jed,” she muttered at last. “Not really. When he showed me this cubbyhole, I wouldn’t come in here with him – scared he’d try it on. Blissy reckoned he was a good mate, but even she had a few doubts. She’d heard stories about him. And when you told me he’d been in my bedroom, I could’ve killed him!” She lapsed into silence, and I could feel her trembling. Then she turned her head, her eyes shining in the dim light. “He didn’t have to go for that bastard!” she said, her voice cracking.
“Shh!” I gripped her arm, whispering. “Keep it down.”
“Sorry.” She laid her hand on mine, and then took it away, lowering her voice. “But he didn’t. He could’ve made a run for it. He knew that creep had a gun, but he went for him anyway – and all he had was a jack handle. Trying to protect me – and that bastard shot him.”
“Bloody hell, Kat, you can’t blame yourself.”
“No, I didn’t shoot him. But I could’ve trusted him. He was always good to me – and I should’ve had a bit more faith in him. He deserved that.” She took her face in her hands.
I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t think of anything that would help. I shuffled around to face her and took her arms in both hands. “Cut it out, Kat. He reckoned you were wonderful.”
She sniffed. “Just makes it worse. And it’s not just Jed. What about the way I treated Kreigler? Wouldn’t do anything he said. Treated him like shit. But he was really good to us too. He’d have done anything for us, and they killed him.” Another sniff. “Don’t put yourself out for me – you’ll end up dead.”
I slid my arm right around her shoulders and held her against me. She didn’t object. I’m not sure if she even noticed. “You did try to warn me,” I said softly. “You did tell me to keep my nose out of your business.”
We stayed like that for quite a while. Huddled together on the floor of that cubbyhole, Kat with her thoughts, me with mine. How the hell had I got into this? Caught up in something I didn’t understand – something much too big to get my mind around. And was Leatherman right? Was I just a sex-crazed kid chasing a good-looking girl? Would I be here if Kat had been fat, feeble and frumpy? Didn’t like that idea. Too many questions, mostly with answers buried deep in a nightmare. None of my thoughts was any help, and eventually I had to move. My swollen knee was aching in that cramped position, and I needed to stretch it. I stood up, gently flexing my leg. And then froze. Voices.
Kat scrambled to her feet beside me, and I understood how she felt. Somehow you don’t face this sort of danger sitting down. We stood there together in that tiny space, listening. Two men talking, but they were some distance away. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, and then they faded altogether.
“I think they’ve gone into Jed’s shack,” whispered Kat.
Moments later, a door slammed somewhere, and I felt Kat tense, breathing in sharply. Footsteps. Right outside. “You checked in here?” A loud voice with an Aussie accent, almost on top of us.
“Yeah, nothing.”
The outside door scraped against concrete as someone pushed it open. I could hear them moving around inside, but the blood thumping in my ears seemed even louder. Our tiny cubbyhole was suddenly like a coffin, dark and suffocating. Dust-laden air tickling the back of my throat. Am I going to cough? What if I sneeze? Kat clutched my arm, and I swallowed, fighting the urge to clear my throat.
“What’s all this shit?” The clinking of glass.
“Home-brew. Seems our friend was a hophead.” A much softer voice, English, and now I recognised it. Last time I’d heard it, he’d been standing on the track just above us with a radio.
“Yuck!” A bottle smashed against the floor and then the door scraped again as they pulled it shut. But they were still right outside the shed.
The Aussie was clearly in charge. “Rastas’ll be here soon. He’s got Bruno with him – take one of them with you and search the track, properly this time. If you can find the bike, they shouldn’t be too far away.” He paused, as if listening. We could hear it too, an outboard motor. “That’ll be him now. We’d better get down to the beach. And don’t forget, mate, we haven’t got time to piss about. Not with the court hearing being brought forward. We need that girl, and we’ve only got about forty-eight hours. And we want her alive. She’s no use to us dead.”
“What if things go wrong? If she ends up dead?”
“Let’s make bloody sure she doesn’t. But … if she does get wasted, we’ll have to keep it quiet – keep the body hidden till it’s over. Her old man won’t nark on us if he doesn’t know where she is. Just remember, if she gives us the slip, we’re in deep shit, mate. Deep shit.”
“And the other kid?”
“If he gets in the way, take him out.”
I listened to their footsteps fading away towards the beach.
If he gets in the way, take him out …