Red Centre

by Chris Ryan

  He stepped out of the cabin onto the veranda and closed the door. As he descended the steps, slightly awkwardly because of his leg, he decided to forget about the tape and drive away. He still had the initiative and he could put a significant distance between himself and the place where he had been filmed.

  He set off along the jungle path, following the looped cables. He walked at a normal speed but listened with every step he took in case someone was coming the other way. Every now and then a squawk high up in the canopy drowned out the surrounding noises, and Pirroni stood still until he could hear his surroundings again. Footsteps announced a large, heavy figure, and a moment later a tall workman in jeans appeared with a coiled cable slung over his shoulder like a lasso. Pirroni stepped aside to let him pass and then continued on his way.

  A crash sounded high up in the trees as a striped possum performed one of its leaps. Several birds squawked in response. Once again, Pirroni froze until the sounds had died down.

  Coming around a tree he heard the chirrup of a mobile phone. A woman’s voice started to speak. Pirroni stood stock-still behind the bole of the tree and listened.

  ‘Interpol were here, would you believe?’ the woman’s voice said. ‘I’ve been talking to them just now.’ She was just metres away from him and coming closer as she spoke into the phone. It was the reporter who had accosted him at the petrol station that morning.

  She was too close now for him to turn round or take any evasive action. Pirroni walked on towards her.

  ‘They said it was someone I interviewed this morning and they were asking me for a description of him - if there was anything odd about him. Yeah, the one on the show.’

  She was right in front of him, but was concentrating on the phone conversation. She registered that there was someone in front of her and turned her body to let him go by. Pirroni passed her. His mind was working furiously. If the place was crawling with Interpol agents, he might have to find somewhere to hide until they left. If they had already gone, he needed to find that out too.

  Whatever, he now couldn’t risk going straight back to the jeep.

  He heard the reporter say, ‘Hang on, I’ll call you back.’ Then she called after him, ‘Hey, Doc - got a moment?’

  Pirroni stopped.

  The reporter touched him on the shoulder as he turned round. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Doc. Could you just tell me if this bite’s OK? It’s rather sore.’ She held out her hand and peered up under the rim of his hat.

  Then her expression changed. She started to step back.

  Pirroni knew that expression well. In a moment would come the scream. He pulled out his gun and her face changed again, the scream swallowed at the sight of this new threat. She’d gone limp with fear and it was easy for Pirroni to grab her mobile phone. He slipped it into his pocket. Then he took her by the arm and steered her off the track into the trees. She tried to resist for the first few steps, but he leaned close to her ear and said, ‘Just walk. You’ll be fine.’ He hurried her on into the undergrowth and she stumbled. He whispered in her ear again and she began to pick up her feet carefully.

  Pirroni’s first thought was to find a place to dispose of her quietly. Out here in the jungle she wouldn’t be found for a while. Possibly not ever. But he couldn’t be sure a camera wasn’t on him.

  He was getting close to the main camp. There were voices, the loudest of which were the cajoling tones of Jonny Cale. Pirroni also heard a soft electric whir. He glanced up into the canopy and saw cameras on platforms fixed seven metres up in the trees. The one he was looking at moved in a slow arc. The cameras were remotely operated. That was good. It meant there’d be fewer personnel in the surrounding area.

  The reporter was breathing hard. She concentrated very carefully on moving without tripping and tried not to think about anything else. In fact, she couldn’t think about anything else. If she did she might make a mistake, and she did not want to give Pirroni any reason to whisper in her ear again. Anyway, they were coming to the camp. There were plenty of people there and surely that would be all right. They would be on TV Then she could stop. Surely then he’d let her go.

  Suddenly they were in the clearing and the camp was in front of them. The contestants, still sitting on their logs, all turned and stared. The presenter Jonny Cale, standing beside the fire, called out in irritation into his microphone, ‘Cut! Cut, blast it. We’ll have to go again. Some bozo’s blundered right into the shot.’

  Pirroni took hold of the reporter’s arm and moved her sideways on towards the group. He lifted his pistol and put it to her head. ‘If nobody moves,’ he said calmly, ‘nobody will get hurt.’

  Pandemonium broke out. Somebody let out a strange screaming wail. Some of the contestants got to their feet and looked around wildly. Jonny Cale was attempting to call for quiet, his arms flapping, but he had no hold on the contestants’ attention. They looked only at the reporter, reacted only to the terror on her face. Helplessly, they looked at each other.

  Pirroni watched them for a moment. Keeping the gun visible, he took the reporter’s phone out of his pocket and with one hand levered the back off. He removed the battery and threw it on the fire. It exploded with a loud bang.

  There were several more screams, which quickly faded. In the silence that replaced them, seven pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. ‘I’ve got grenades,’ said Pirroni, ‘and I will use them. I need you all to be very quiet, very calm and to follow my instructions.’

  They looked back at him.

  He put his gun to the reporter’s temple. A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘Now all of you stand up.’

  The contestants all got to their feet.

  A movement flicked the bushes at the edge of Pirroni’s peripheral vision. He turned and instinct made him dive to one side, knocking over the journalist. He saw a flash and the shot followed. The gun made a hiss, not a crack. It wasn’t a bullet. That explained why he had time to dodge out of the way. Pirroni recovered his balance even before the animals and birds responded. As they fled through the trees, screeching, he already had his gun lifted. He took aim carefully and squeezed the trigger. The forest echoed to the sound of his shot and a body fell heavily to the ground.

  The contestants stared in horror. Some of them hid their faces when they registered the buff-coloured shirt, the bush hat rolling away, and the lolling head.

  It was one of the rangers. Blood seeped from a red hole between the man’s eyes.

  9

  SIEGE

  It was Amber’s room they knocked at first. She’d been about to go down to the pool for a swim. She opened the door to find two men in pale blue police uniforms.

  One of them held up an identity card. ‘Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you Amber Middleton?’

  Amber nodded.

  ‘I believe you were out at the TV studio in the Daintree Rainforest earlier today?’

  Amber nodded again. ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’d appreciate it if you would come with us.’

  ‘What’s this all about? Has something happened at the camp?’

  ‘Sorry, we can’t tell you anything right now. We simply have orders to escort you out there to help us with our enquiries,’ replied one of the policemen.

  Amber saw that she wasn’t going to get anything further out of them, so she shrugged and followed them out of the hotel.

  Outside on the drive stood two white Holden Commodore saloons with the characteristic blue markings of the Queensland Police. The two officers showed Amber to one of the cars. As she climbed in, she saw Hex coming down the front steps with Alex. Li and Paulo followed close behind.

  Amber shot them a questioning glance, but they shrugged back at her, obviously as much in the dark as she was.

  Alex and Hex joined Amber in the first car. Li and Paulo got into the second.

  ‘Strap yourselves in,’ said the driver as he swung into the seat. ‘We’ve got no time to waste.’

  His colleague spoke into his radio. ‘JN Five en route. Requ
est backup. Over.’

  The driver stopped the car at the hotel gates and checked the road. It was clear. He punched a switch on the dashboard and the siren began to wail. With one last look in each direction he floored the accelerator. The V8 engine answered. The tyres spun for a moment on the loose dust of the road, then bit. The car pulled out and roared up the carriageway.

  They were fast approaching a lorry. It pulled aside for them to pass and they left it behind in a flash.

  Amber, Hex and Alex turned and looked through the rear window. The other police car was close behind, nipping around the truck and swinging back into the right lane. Even traffic coming the other way was pulling to the side to get out of their way. The police drivers used the full width of the road whenever there was a corner, veering back and forth across the central white line.

  Alex sneaked a look at the speedometer. It said 225 k.p.h. They passed another truck. It seemed to be crawling. Alex wanted to talk to the others to see if they knew what was going on, but conversation was impossible over the roar of the engine, the noise of the road and the wail of the siren. He glanced at his friends. Amber’s eyes were dancing like points of light in her dark face. ‘Lovin’ this!’ she mouthed with a huge grin.

  Hex was staring ahead, his expression glazed and blissful, as though he was listening to a favourite piece of music very, very loud.

  In the distance, Alpha Force could now see blue police lights throwing strobes into the sky. A sign for a roundabout came up. The cars slowed and slalomed through without missing a beat. Police motorcycles were positioned at the roundabout exits, blocking them off so that the cars could cruise through smoothly. Then the two Commodores were off up the straight coast road again, the 5.7 litre engines taking them effortlessly back up to top speed.

  When they reached the encampment in the rainforest, they found it surrounded by a police cordon. It was early evening and the sky above the trees was blood-red. Floodlights made the area at the roadside as bright as midday, but under the trees the green gloom was turning to purple dusk. Police cars and an ambulance were parked across the road. Blue and white police tape extended into the undergrowth. Officers were picking their way in, using the tape as a guide.

  Alpha Force climbed out. Beyond the police cars they could see the location trucks standing in a line. To the ticking and chirruping of the jungle creatures was added an new voice - the tinny crackle of police radios. The five friends looked at each other in astonishment. What could have happened to turn the TV shoot into a crime scene?

  Another policeman ducked under the tape. ‘Here they are, chief,’ said one of the drivers.

  The police officer looked at him. ‘What took you so long?’ Then, before the driver could answer, he addressed the five youngsters. ‘Would you come this way, please?’

  He led them to one of the location trucks and knocked once.

  A voice from inside called out, ‘Yes?’

  ‘The witnesses are here, Sergeant Powell.’

  Alex, Li, Hex, Amber and Paulo all looked at each other, the same thought going through their heads. Witnesses?

  ‘Send them in.’

  Alex went up the tiny steps first and entered the truck. The others followed, along with the police officer. The entire truck had obviously been converted for use as a dressing room, perhaps for the notoriously demanding Jonny Cale. There was a table in the middle, still bearing traces of make-up, which looked as if it had been pulled away from the mirror along the far wall. Now a plan of the camp was spread out on its surface. A large sofa had been pushed aside and squashed into one corner, along with cushions and a minibar. Alex could just picture the scene: the soldiers arriving, requisitioning it as an operations room and then excluding all non-military personnel; the army operating like a well-oiled machine. A pang came over him as he remembered that this wouldn’t be his future after all.

  Sergeant Powell, a thickset man in army fatigues, got to his feet. Alex immediately noticed his beret. It was sand coloured, with a distinctive cap badge depicting a winged sword. It was an item as familiar as anything from Alex’s own home. He wasn’t close enough to read the motto furled around the blade but he knew it well: ‘Who Dares Wins’. The SAS. Why were they here?

  Sergeant Powell stepped forward. ‘Please sit down.’ He motioned towards the chairs around the table.

  They sat down. The police officer remained standing in the corner, as though keeping a watchful eye on proceedings.

  Sergeant Powell consulted a clipboard. ‘You must be Li,’ he said to the Anglo-Chinese girl. He ticked off the others. ‘Amber . . . Paulo . . . That takes care of the obvious ones.’ He smiled, then looked at the remaining two. ‘Who’s Alexander and who’s Melvin?’

  All eyes turned on Hex. ‘Melvin?’ drawled Amber. ‘Don’t tell me that’s your real name!’

  ‘No,’ hissed Hex. ‘My real name is Hex. Melvin is just what some idiot put on my birth certificate.’ He looked daggers at Amber. The others kept their eyes firmly down.

  ‘Sorry - Hex,’ said Sergeant Powell with a grin. ‘The police got all your passport details. We don’t get information from people without knowing who they are.’ His expression became serious. ‘We have a siege situation in the camp. One person has been killed and eight have been taken hostage. Six of them are minors. The hostage taker is a dangerous terrorist who was thought to be in jail in America. He’s been hiding out here for years but a journalist interviewed him by chance this morning and someone tipped off Interpol. Now he’s demanding safe passage to a neutral country.’

  Hex and Paulo exchanged glances. Their e-mail to John Middleton had got through. He must have forwarded it to his contacts immediately.

  Sergeant Powell paused to let this information sink in. ‘We may need to storm the camp, so we need to get a picture of the layout. You were there earlier and I understand you also helped set up the games. So what can you tell me?’

  It was Li who spoke. ‘Quite a lot. We’ve been over most of the camp and the surrounding jungle in the past few days.’

  ‘That’s good. Anything you can tell us absolutely anything – may be useful.’ Powell rotated the map on the table so that it faced the five youngsters.

  Hex picked up a pencil and looked around at the others. ‘Shall we start by marking where all the cameras and microphones are?’

  Alex nodded. ‘That’s your department, Hex.’

  Hex got to work drawing. Sergeant Powell watched him with interest. These kids were focused and able to concentrate immediately, he thought, as though they were doing a job. So far everyone else he’d interviewed had been thoroughly scared.

  ‘Who are the hostages?’ Amber asked.

  ‘He’s got the contestants, the TV presenter and a journalist,’ Powell told her. ‘They’re in the control room.’

  Alex was thinking aloud. ‘There’s only one way in and out of the control room so he’s well protected. It’s small so he can keep tabs on anyone with him. And it’s all made of wood so if you try to climb on the roof or up the sides he’ll hear you coming.’

  ‘I suppose he’s armed,’ said Li.

  The police officer spoke. ‘If you just stick to the facts, miss, we’ll let the soldiers put together the battle plans, shall we?’

  Sergeant Powell sat back in his chair and addressed the policeman. ‘Officer, any chance of getting something to drink? For my men as well; it’s easy to get dehydrated in this climate. Some bottled water would be great.’

  ‘Right, sir.’ The police officer pulled open the door and left.

  Paulo’s face had a brooding expression. Once the policeman had gone he spoke. ‘Sergeant, how did he take the hostages?’

  ‘We’re not absolutely clear. We have an eyewitness account - the technician who was in the control room. When she saw what was going down she ran for it. She was still in a state when we talked to her. But she said our man walked into the camp with a female journalist at gunpoint. He shot one man and made everyone go into the control room.�
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  As Sergeant Powell spoke he indicated the points on the map, on which Hex was labelling his diagrams. ‘The witness only saw a handgun but we think he’s quite well armed,’ Powell added. ‘She believed he threw a grenade into the fire.’

  They all started to speak at once. Li got in first. ‘He threw a grenade into the fire? You don’t need a fire to detonate a grenade.’

  Powell nodded. ‘As I said, the witness was a bit confused. That’s normal. It all happens so quickly that it doesn’t always make sense. But he caused an explosion of some sort, so we have to act as though he has explosives.’

  Paulo said quietly, ‘Or he cleverly improvised something. Which might be worse.’

  Alex caught his eye and nodded.

  The sergeant agreed. ‘That’s right. Whatever he has or hasn’t got, our man is very dangerous. He’s very experienced in siege situations because he’s set up a stronghold he can protect all by himself. We can’t surround the camp because it’s a huge area and thick jungle. He’s got cameras that show him what’s going on. The place was constructed so that no-one could get a view from outside the perimeter. We could send a squad in but we don’t know what he can see and what he can’t. If we go in and we’re seen, we’ll be putting lives at risk. He’s already shown he is prepared to kill.’

  They nodded. The area of the camp was a patch of jungle larger than a football stadium and fully wired up with sound equipment and cameras including some with night sight. And all of it controlled now by Pirroni. It was an impregnable tactical position. A direct assault, even by crack SAS troops, would mean certain death for the hostages.

  ‘Who did he kill?’ asked Amber.