A dreadful premonition gripped her as she tore herself free and thrust the door wide. ‘Luke, wait! Don’t go in there!’ But he was already on his way. His lean form vanished from sight, then she heard a shout, too muffled to tell if it was Luke’s or someone else’s, and then nothing. The seconds crawled stickily by, filled only with the buzz of flies as she hovered indecisively by the vehicle, but in the end she couldn’t not know. Her heart in her mouth, she pulled the seat forward, searching feverishly for anything that could be used as a weapon, and settled for the unwieldy jack-handle, which she grabbed from its metal clasp.
Wishing that Connor was there, or that she could forget his warning – these men are dangerous – she swallowed hard and headed resolutely for the cave, discarding all alternatives. The WPA didn’t run to satellite phones, and going for help was obviously out of the question. By the time it came, the traffickers – for there was no doubt in her mind as to who the interlopers were – would be long gone, and very likely, Luke along with them.
Chapter Thirty-two
The narrow entrance was lighter than Tilly remembered. It halted her for the moment it took to realise that the glow must be coming from a torch, and, gritting her teeth, she crept forward, gripping the jack-handle, her palm sweaty against the smooth metal. The floor was smooth and the combination of dust and guano muffled her tread so that she was inside before the cave occupants heard her, or her eyes had made sense of the tableau confronting her.
It wasn’t a torch but a pressure lamp, and by its white glare she saw two figures bent over a third one slumped against, and partly screened by, a stack of crates. A horrified gasp escaped her as she realised it was Luke. He sat swaying on the floor, with a trickle of blood dripping through his hands, which held his head.
The stocky figure nearest her whipped around at the noise she made. Unsurprised, she stared at Matt’s familiar features. ‘You! You traitor!’ she yelled, just as Luke groaned and pitched sideways to lie in a boneless heap amid a little explosion of dust. ‘Oh, God,’ she cried, starting forward. ‘What have you done to him?’
The sound of her voice triggered the second figure, at whom she’d barely glanced, to turn towards her, his eyes widening to mirror Tilly’s own shock. ‘Gerry!’ she stammered. ‘What . . .?’ It was him – there was no mistaking that handsome face, even with its two-day stubble and his generally dishevelled appearance. The jack-handle slipped, forgotten, from her nerveless fingers. ‘So it’s true! Everything the police said – you’re just a dirty crook. What have you done to Luke?’
He winced at her tone. ‘Babe, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t . . . I never meant to hurt you—’
‘Shut up!’ she said fiercely. ‘I don’t want your excuses or apologies. I couldn’t care less about you. All I want is to know what happened that night – why you let Francie die?’
‘I didn’t!’ he protested. ‘The runabout tipped over. She was safe in it, and then a wave came and rolled it. I tried . . . I really tried, babe’—he shook his head, face twisting as he lifted his hands towards her—‘but I couldn’t find her in the dark and the tide was taking us. It was like a rip out there.’ He shook his head again, and dropped his hands. ‘There was nothing I could do.’
‘Except save yourself. You managed that,’ Tilly said bitterly.
His eyes, once so bright and full of life, met hers, the light in them dulled. ‘I got washed against the runabout, and climbed on top. Rode it for hours, then Stefan picked me up.’
‘Who?’
‘Nobody you know. He was bringing stuff in that night. Chance in a million, really, that the runabout crossed his path. He hauled me aboard and scarpered, to dodge the search vessels we knew would be out.’
‘You didn’t look for her? You . . . you . . . She was your daughter, Gerry! She was only two, for God’s sake! How could you just go off and leave her?’ Tilly shouted furiously.
‘She was dead.’ He spoke with flat finality. ‘And if it came to insisting, Stefan would’ve had me back overboard to join her. Easy for you to talk, but you don’t know him. I’m sorry, Tilly, I am. But kids die, and ours did. What the hell are you doing up here anyway? Why didn’t you go home?’
‘What home? Oh, you mean the one sold up to pay your debts? I’m earning my living, seeing you left me penniless, you worthless piece of—’ A quavering groan interrupted her and she turned from Gerry to drop on her knees beside Luke.
He had fallen twisted, and she rolled him carefully onto his back, patting his slack cheek and bending to speak in his ear. ‘Luke! Wake up, Luke!’ The blood on his temple had run down into his eye socket, and his white face appeared even paler in the brilliant glare of the lantern.
‘Save yourself the trouble. He’s out to it,’ Matt, who had held his silence till then, growled. He jerked his head at Gerry. ‘If you’ve finished excusin’ yourself, get loadin’. We’ve gotta get outta here PDQ. What’re the two of you doing here anyway, Tilly? I thought that uni bigwig was comin’ this arvo.’
She shot him a look of intense dislike. ‘He’s been held up. Luke!’ she tried again, demanding fiercely, ‘What did you hit him with? He could have a fractured skull.’ She became aware of a discordent squawking as Gerry began lifting and carting the crates away, and caught a brief glimpse of avian eyes, of black and grey feathers and raised yellow combs. Cockies then, but she had no time to worry about them now. ‘You won’t get away with this, Matt. You’re not as clever as you think. How many birds have you stolen anyway? And what else are you smuggling? Connor said—’ She bit down on the betraying words but the sudden change in his expression showed that he had heard and understood.
‘That bastard!’ he snarled. ‘He didn’t fool me from the get-go. Botanist, my arse! So, what is he? Copper, Drug Squad? Answer me!’ She hadn’t seen it happen but suddenly there was a gun in his hand.
‘You know perfectly well he’s a botanist,’ she flared.
‘And I’m sodding Christ. One more chance, Tilly. Tell me the truth’—he pointed the gun at Luke’s supine form—‘or I swear you won’t have to worry about him waking up anytime soon.’
The world seemed to freeze around Tilly. As from a great distance she heard the agitation of leathery wings and a myriad tiny squeakings overhead, and the subdued hiss of the pressure lamp pumping its light into the dark recesses of the cave. Her knees ached from kneeling beside Luke, and she felt the throb of her pulse in her fingertips. Sweat dripped from her chin, and a line of it tickled the small of her back as she stared into her erstwhile workmate’s feral brown eyes until he broke the contact, his gaze sliding, in usual fashion, away from hers.
‘What made you think he was Drug Squad?’ she said, fighting to keep her voice calm.
‘Answer me!’ he yelled suddenly, and before she could open her mouth, he fired. She screamed, cowering over Luke’s body, eyes pulled wide, and mind gibbering in terror as she searched his unconscious form for torn flesh and blood. There was none. Matt had fired into the roof, startling the bats into a whirring, squealing maelstrom that had him ducking and swearing, as Gerry burst back into the cave.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing yet. But this bitch is about to get it. Doyle’s Drug Squad. He’s been spyin’ on us. And I’ll bet the bastard’s had the cash too. Frayed rope, my blind aunt! Who’s he think that’s gonna fool?’
‘He’s not!’ Tilly cried desperately as the gun swung towards her. ‘What cash? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Matt. Look, you’ve only stolen a few birds – that’s not much of a crime, but killing—’
‘There’ll be no killing.’ Gerry stepped forward and she breathed again. ‘She’s my wife, Mercer. Leave them both. Let’s load and clear out. We can disable their vehicle, and you can see he’s in no state to walk. No need even to tie them up. We’ll be long gone before anyone comes looking for ’em.’
‘So they just walk away with six months’ worth of cash? I don’t think so. As for being your wife – forget
her. The bitch is sleepin’ with Doyle, anyway.’ There was jealousy in his tone and frustrated lust, she realised – so he had fancied her. His hand rose again and Gerry leapt forward.
‘No! I don’t care. I won’t be party to any killing.’
‘Grow up!’ Matt sneered. ‘You just want one hand dirty, is that it? A kilo or two of drugs, a few smuggled birds and lizards, but oh, no, Officer, nothin’ bad. You’re in this up to your neck, sonny, an’ that includes that boatload of dead reffos. Two more ain’t gonna make no difference to the sheet.’ With that, he turned the short black barrel on Tilly and fired.
Terror had hastened rather than slowed her brain, and while he spoke, her hand had found and closed over the jack-handle. It was a pathetic weapon but it was the only one she had. Her mouth opened in a fruitless cry of protest as she read his intent but she was given no time to utter it. The roar of the shot was magnified by the cave’s echoes, and before she could wonder at hearing it, a heavy weight knocked her across Luke’s prone body and Gerry’s arm thudded down across her neck.
Tilly heard Matt swear and, turning her head, stared dazedly into her husband’s dead face. He had thrown himself into the bullet’s path to save her life, which, she thought hysterically, was only going to extend it by seconds. Matt had now fired the gun twice but it must hold more bullets than that. Panting, she tightened her grip on the steel she held.
‘You stupid bastard!’ Matt, bending over to check Gerry’s body, dealt him a savage kick. ‘Christ Almighty! What a turn-up. After she gave you up too. Well, one more stiff’s neither here nor there,’ he decided. And it was then, as he straightened to finish the job, that Tilly hit him with all the strength that fear and fury could give her.
She aimed, of necessity from her partly prone position, for his right leg and had the satisfaction of actually hearing the bone in his kneecap crack. He bellowed in pain and surprise and went down hard, hitting the floor on his back with his right elbow cracking crisply against the stone. She scrambled up and with another, less steady swipe, belted the gun from his hand, which had somehow managed to retain its grasp of it, then scampered after its clattering fall while he writhed, yelling in pain, behind her.
With trembling hands she examined her prize, terrified that it might go off. Tilly knew nothing about firearms. Gerry had kept a rifle on the Esmerelda – for crocs, he’d said – but she had forbidden him to bring it into their camp. Staring distractedly around while the bats wheeled and chittered above her, she spied a long fissure in the rock wall of the cave. Hyperventilating, she thrust an arm into its darkness and felt nothing but space. It would do. With a feeling of relief that helped steady her breathing, she dropped the gun into it and heard metal clatter on stone somewhere well beyond her reach.
‘You bitch!’ Matt was yelling. ‘You’ll pay for that. Get yourself over here now.’
‘I don’t think so.’ She spoke as coolly as her thumping heart allowed. ‘Your patella’s cracked, Matt. You won’t walk on that leg, much less drive anywhere, and you might as well face the fact. It’s over.’
He must have been in considerable pain but he managed a grating laugh. ‘I don’t think so, bitch. Not unless you want our boy wonder dead. Get back here, take a look an’ work out who’s got the upper hand. Won’t take me but a moment to do for ’im.’
His words filled Tilly with a sudden dread. She stepped cautiously closer, being careful to remain beyond his reach. As the harsh light revealed the truth, her shoulders sagged and the fight went out of her. While she had been disposing of the gun, Matt had wriggled himself about, probably with considerable pain, until he had managed to snag Luke’s leg and drag his unconscious form close enough that the blade of the knife in his hand was resting against Luke’s unconscious throat.
Chapter Thirty-three
The surge of adrenalin that had powered her movements vanished, leaving Tilly sick and shaken. She had scarcely given a thought to Gerry’s sacrifice, but now the sight of his body sprawled in death brought her to her knees and tears to her eyes. He had lied and cheated and done much worse, and he had deceived her and lost their child, but she had loved him once. And he must have still loved her to have flung himself into the path of the bullet that would have killed her. The sobs kept coming, not helped by the sight of Luke stretched insensible before her with that wicked blade threatening his life.
‘Waterworks ain’t gonna help you,’ Matt growled. ‘So shut it and gimme a hand up. You’re gonna drive me out to meet some mates of mine. Try anythin’ and you’ll be dead meat. Upside is, behave yourself and Luke makes it home, always supposin’ Gerry didn’t hit him too hard. Got it?’
Hating him, Tilly swallowed a final sob. ‘And then? You’re going to let me go, I suppose?’
His lips drew back in a grimace – of pain or mirth, she couldn’t tell. ‘Yeah. You can walk back. Won’t be much above ninety kay.’ This time the grin was real and evil. ‘We might have your shoes first, but.’
Even if he meant it, which she doubted, she would never make it. Her feet were soft; they might carry her a kilometre or so, but the stone and spinifex would defeat her. Besides, why wouldn’t he just kill her? Eyeing the knife, she swallowed terror, but if she dodged past him now and ran, Luke would die. That was certain and when Sophie grew alarmed at their continued absence, and came looking . . .
Oh where, her heart cried, was Connor when she needed him most? Waiting in blissful ignorance in an ambush that would never happen while she was trapped here in the midst of death and destruction. She could have wept for the irony of a love so newly found and as swiftly lost. And for Luke, who could be dying even as he lay there, bleeding into his brain perhaps, from the damage inflicted by the brutal blow that had felled him.
Tilly said coldly, ‘Let him alone! And I don’t for a minute believe that Gerry hit him. It was you. I know it was.’
‘Then you better believe I mean what I say. Now, get me up.’
Tilly shrank inwardly as she touched him, and when he was upright, sweating and panting with pain, she shuddered from the weight of his arm across her shoulders. He held the knife in that hand only a thumb’s width from her throat as together, like a mismatched pair of three-legged racers, they lurched and staggered towards the Land Rover.
She had calculated her chances of getting away when they got to the vehicle. She would have to help him in, but he couldn’t control her movements then. Only, if she took the opportunity to run, he was perfectly capable of dragging himself back into the cave to Luke . . . As if he had divined her thought processes, he waited while she opened the passenger door, then shoved her ahead of him.
‘Get in. An’ don’t even think of it. I’ve got the keys. Now, pull me up.’
She obeyed, first negotiating the gear stick and getting some satisfaction from the yell he gave as his broken knee banged against the doorframe. The leg of his jeans was strained over the swelling, she saw once he was in his seat, hissing in pain, but his right hand still held the knife steady against her waist. He raised a sweat-stained face to her, his words coming raggedly. ‘Under your seat. Gimme the phone there.’
It was a satellite phone, expensive to own and use. She remembered the wads of money packed into the drum she and Connor had found. Cost obviously wasn’t a consideration. The conversation was brief. Matt said, ‘Yeah, me. Somethin’s come up. Meet me ASAP. End of the road. Yeah, I ain’t. Whiskey, painkillers. See you there.’ He dropped the phone into his lap and with his left hand dug keys from his shirt pocket. ‘Right. Drive an’ no tricks. Don’t think I won’t use the knife. You’re no use to me dead, but it don’t mean I can’t maim you.’
Tilly didn’t dignify the threat with an answer. She prayed that the road he’d mentioned was the new one. Connor was there. She didn’t know how he could help, but he was her only chance of getting out of this alive, and getting help for Luke. She turned the key, engaged the gear and, with mentally crossed fingers and toes, headed back towards Sandstone Springs.
&nb
sp; And the miracle she had asked for happened.
‘Not there. Go right,’ Matt barked, ‘over the saddle.’
‘But—’ Deliberately she stalled the vehicle. ‘There’s no road.’
‘Well, it ain’t sign-posted,’ he said scornfully. But it’s there. Use your bloody eyes. Now get this heap movin’ an’ follow the tracks.’
There were none to be seen on the gravel, but proceeding hesitantly, more for show than need, Tilly soon picked up traces of wheel prints where Gerry must’ve driven in. She wondered where Matt’s own vehicle was. Perhaps planted in the scrub at the springs, or somewhere closer, hidden from sight as he had been all these years. With malice, she drove carelessly, hitting the gutters a little too fast and dropping into the potholes until Matt jabbed the knife lightly into her thigh, drawing blood. She cried out in shock and from the pain of the slight wound.
‘I’m warnin’ you, bitch,’ he snarled, fresh sweat gleaming on his face. From then on she took more care, driving so slowly that he snarled at her again to speed up. When the pillars of the Lost City came in sight, she remembered to stare and peer out the side-window as if it was her first sighting of them. She passed the point where she and Connor had pulled up, and from then on the track required her full concentration. They stopped only once. Matt made her hand over the keys and her shoes, then told her to get out and bring him the waterbag from the side rail where it hung behind a protective skirt of leather.
She slid out reluctantly, wincing as the cut in her leg smarted and her bare soles hit the rough ground, and moved down the vehicle’s side. She wished she had some way of causing a puncture, but even supposing she could snap off the valve stem, he would know she had done it. Casting a longing look down at the back tyre, she noticed there was no cap on the stem and the idea was instantly born. Matt had twisted sideways in his seat and was watching her through the window, but her hands were out of sight. Stooping, she wrestled with the stiff buckles, muttering to herself, then bent to snatch up a length of grass.
Croc Country Page 25
