by Des Hunt
Luke was pleased when Chizza interrupted to say that they needed to get a table, but not so pleased when Ham insisted that Luke join them. He would have much preferred to have dinner with Lora and Beth than with his father, who in his current state was increasingly easy to dislike.
On the way home, Chizza took a detour to his place to pick up a computer card for Luke.
‘You just put it in the slot and enter the PIN on the keypad. Your PIN is 7315. Make sure you remember that.’
Luke looked at the card. It was white except for the black magnetic strip and for the name Luke written neatly in red. ‘Does it charge anyone’s credit card?’
‘No! It gives free access to the computers. You can spend much time. But if other people are waiting, you must let them be first.’ He gave a little smile. ‘They are paying and you are not.’
Back at The Nest, the men headed to the bar after telling Luke that he needed to be ready at about eight in the morning, and he’d better get plenty of sleep as it was going to be a long day.
But Luke was not sleepy. Instead, he went through to the games room and sat down at the only free computer. The other five had guests crouched over the keyboards.
The card and the PIN were accepted. Immediately, the screen changed to the image-viewer program that Ham had sent with his first email. The only difference was that beneath the photos was a message for the guest.
Let others enjoy the sights of Cape Tribulation. Send this viewer and its images to your friends for free. Simply click the attach button on your webmail page and select the CapeTribView.exe file.
Luke read the message several times. CapeTribView.exe was the name of the file that had contained the RatSpyz virus. Was this how the file had ended up on Beth’s computer? There was one way to find out. He went onto webmail and wrote a message to himself. Then he clicked the attachment icon, selected CapeTribView.exe and clicked open. A rotating arrow in the toolbar indicated a virus-checker at work. When nothing was found, the file name was placed in the attachment box. It was as simple as that. The program containing the masked virus was now ready to be sent.
Is that what Ham had done? If so, then it was unlikely that he’d had any idea that he was sending a virus that would eventually lead to the theft of twenty thousand dollars. The same would apply to other people. How easy it would be for guests to think that they were doing the right thing by sending the file to their friends. Luke glanced at the people working on the computers beside him. Should he warn them? Tell them that sending files from these computers was dangerous?
Perhaps not. Not until he had proof, and to get that he needed to get deeper into the computer.
However, he quickly found that to be impossible. He had access to a few applications, but nothing that would let him investigate the system. It looked like Chizza was very good at his job. Suspiciously good. There was no need to tie a computer down so tightly unless you had something to hide. It was then that Luke decided he was wrong about Ham being the scammer. Chizza was! And judging by the man’s lovely new vehicle, a very successful one.
Chapter 16
That night, Luke was woken many times by sounds coming from the forest. Whatever animal it was, it warmed up with a few chuckles and gurgles, probably one calling another, before they really got going. Then the forest—and his bedroom—were filled with the shrieking and screams of mayhem and murder. This happened not once, but at three different times before morning, when either one had killed the other or they’d settled their differences.
A mud-splattered SUV was parked outside the workshop. Inside, the light was on, but there was no sign of Andy the caretaker. Luke had wanted to ask him about the sounds during the night, but instead he set out to find the answers for himself. Surely there must be some remains left after the mayhem of the night?
The forest behind the workshop was thicker than it was between the buildings. Bigger trees, with many covered in wait-a-while and a vicious palm, which had to be Hairy Mary. A path of sorts led under the vines to a clearing. Maybe that was the site of the night’s drama?
After scrambling through the undergrowth, Luke found that the middle of the clearing contained a mound of earth, leaves and rubble. It looked just like a pile that a gardener might have left, although why someone would want to clean the forest floor was a mystery. He walked around, looking for signs of the fighting he’d heard during the night. There weren’t any, except some moist earth that suggested recent digging.
Then he remembered seeing something like this in a tourist brochure in Cairns. What was it again? When he eventually remembered, his heart skipped a couple of beats. It was a crocodile nest. The photo in the brochure had shown a female crocodile standing guard over the nest. Now his heart was really jumping: the noise during the night had been the sounds of animals dying as they were ripped to pieces by the crocodile.
Slowly he backed away, hoping he hadn’t been seen. He couldn’t see any movement that might be a croc, but this was no time to hang about. Only when he was well clear of the forest did he stop to have a think about what he’d found. There’d been no sign of the mother crocodile other than the nest. Surely if she’d been there he’d have seen her? Maybe she was off feeding; or perhaps it was an old nest, except that the night sounds suggested otherwise.
Then he worked it out. The thing was a fake, just like the crocodile in the pool. The sounds were recordings designed to convince the guests that they were sleeping in the middle of a jungle. Yes, that was it! A place called The Crocodile Nest was sure to have a fake one around somewhere. He chuckled quietly to himself as he headed for the dining room. He liked this place: someone had a wicked sense of humour.
As he went past the swimming pool, he saw a tall, grey-haired guy skimming things off the surface of the water. This had to be Andy. Luke opened the gate and walked in, thinking he’d have a look at the fake crocodile in daylight.
Andy must have been in a daydream, because he jumped when Luke approached.
‘Geez, mate! You’ll stuff up a man’s ticker, sneaking around like that.’ Then he looked up, and a smile spread over his face. ‘I know you—you’ve gotta be Luke. My word, you’re a dead ringer for your old man. There’s no doubting who did the dirty deed, is there?’
Luke smiled. ‘And you must be Andy.’
‘Yep! Pleased to meetcha, Luke.’ They shook hands. ‘Wanna give me a hand with these?’
That’s when Luke noticed that the objects floating on the surface were toads. Some were still trying to swim; others floated with just a flicker of life showing.
‘If you hold the bag,’ said Andy, ‘I’ll catch the blighters.’ The bag was a sack that already contained three toads.
‘What do you do with them?’
Andy looked at him sideways. ‘Let’s put it this way: I won’t be fishing this lot out of the pool tomorrow morning.’
‘Do you always get this many?’
‘Nah! In the wet, you hardly see the blighters. They’re in the forest stealing the tucker from the Aussie animals. When it stops raining, we get them like this for a while before it drops away. Only lasts a week or two. Hey, have a look at this.’
He placed a large live toad on the concrete and gave it a nudge with his boot. The toad arched its back, and white stuff started forming on some of the warts.
‘There you go. That white stuff’s called bufotoxin. Kill you, that stuff will. Kills crocodiles if they eat a toad. Getting to be a real problem with the freshwater crocs. Not so much with salties. Toads don’t like salt water much.’
Luke smiled and pointed to the fake crocodile, now resting on the edge of the pool. ‘Does that one eat them?’
‘Ah! So you’ve met RoboCroc, have you?’
‘Did you make him?’
‘Yeah!’ replied Andy proudly. ‘Bought a foam croc and added the robotics. Works well. Did it put the wind up ya?’
‘For a bit,’ Luke admitted.
‘Aaa-aa-aa-aa!’ crowed Andy. ‘Betcha it gave ya the shits.
Old Robo gets everyone.’
‘Did you build the fake crocodile’s nest, too?’
Andy looked puzzled. ‘What fake crocodile nest?’
‘The one in the clearing behind your workshop.’
‘Ah! That!’ A pause. ‘That’s no fake crocodile nest, mate.’
‘Is it real?’
‘Nope! It’s not a croc’s nest—it’s a bird’s nest.’
‘A cassowary?’
Andy shook his head. ‘Nah! Cassowaries make a normal sort of nest on the ground.’ He looked at Luke for a while. ‘Did ya hear a lot of screeching during the night?’
‘Yeah! I thought something was getting killed.’
‘Weren’t. It was just the bush chooks calling to each other. The orange-footed bush chook or scrub fowl. It’s their nest. They form that mound like a compost heap. Then they lay their eggs in the middle and cover them up. It’s like a giant incubator. If you tippy-toe out in the morning, you’ll see them digging down to check the temperature. During the day they let the sun heat it up, and in the evening they cover it up again so’s the eggs don’t get cold during the night. Smart, eh?’
‘Is that how a crocodile’s nest works?’
‘Yeah, a bit. They make the same sort of heap, but don’t do much except guard it. I can tell you, Luke, if that’d been a croc’s nest you’d be croc tucker by now.’
‘Are there any around here?’
He shook his head. ‘Wrong season. They nest in the wet.’ Then he gave a little chuckle. ‘The only croc nesting this time of the year is Crazy Hazel.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘A big old girl who lives in the creek a bit south of here.’ He tapped his head. ‘She’s a few snags short of a barbie is Hazel. Thinks all seasons are breeding time. Guards her nest better than the Royal Mint. Everyone, even other crocs, keep well clear of Crazy Hazel.’
‘Where would I go to see her?’
‘Aw, look, Luke. You don’t want to go looking for crocodiles on your Pat Malone. They’ll take you if you get too close.’
‘Have you ever been attacked?’
‘Yeah, a couple of times. But I always carry a stick in crocodile territory. A whack on the head stops them in their tracks.’
‘Could you take me to see one?’
‘I could, but the best way to see crocs is to go with one of the tours. Get Ham to sort something for you.’
‘Ham is taking me pig hunting today.’
‘Is that so? You ever been pig hunting before?’
‘Yeah, once. Back in New Zealand.’
Andy nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, well you might need to be a bit more careful around here. I gather the Shaky Isles don’t have too many dangerous things in the bush. It’s different in Oz: there’s snakes, spiders, scorpions…all sorts of things to look out for. And half of them can kill ya.’ He rubbed the stubble on his chin for a while. ‘But you’ll be all right with Ham. He knows what he’s doing.’ Then he looked at Luke sharply. ‘He’s not taking that Cheeta character with him is he?’
‘You mean Chizza?’
‘Chizza. Whatever. Cheeta’s a better name for him, but. Don’t tell me he’s going?’
‘He is.’
Andy shook his head. ‘That’s not good, Luke. That fella’s dangerous. Got no respect for wildlife. Shoots at anything and everything. You watch out for him. Thinks only of himself, does Cheeta. A real nasty piece of work, if you ask me.’
Chapter 17
The pig-hunting trip started with an argument.
Chizza arrived while Luke was finishing his breakfast.
‘Where is Ham?’ he demanded.
Luke shrugged. ‘Haven’t seen him.’
Chizza glowered for a moment, before storming off towards the staff dormitory with Luke trailing along behind.
‘Ham!’ he yelled. ‘Ham!’ Then he started banging on the door. A moment later Ham appeared, looking pretty crook after a night of drinking.
‘What time is it?’
‘Time we left,’ replied Chizza.
Ham looked at him as if he didn’t understand.
‘Get dressed!’ ordered Chizza.
Ham blinked. ‘Yeah, OK.’ He started to go back into the room before he thought of something. ‘While you’re waiting, you can shift the dog box over onto your truck.’
Chizza shook his head. ‘We are not taking my truck.’
‘Why not?’ replied Ham, aggressively. ‘It’s your turn.’
‘This truck is not going pig hunting.’
‘So it’s always going to be mine? No way, mate. We take turn about like we always did.’
Chizza’s face turned black. ‘We do it my way,’ he said very quietly. ‘We take yours every time.’
Ham’s mouth tightened before he spun around and disappeared into the room.
Chizza turned to Luke. ‘Come! We will put the dogs in the box.’
Kirk and Spock were even more hyper than the day before. They yelped madly, racing away to where Ham kept his ute. By the time Chizza and Luke arrived, they were already in their boxes, eager to get going.
While Chizza went and got his gear, Ham arrived with his, and not long afterwards everyone was ready to go.
Luke soon found out why Chizza was reluctant to take his vehicle. The sealed highway north lasted for only a couple of kilometres before becoming a four-wheel-drive track called the Bloomfield Track. The clay-and-rock surface was so rutted that in places the ute had only three wheels making contact. There were no bridges. Instead, the track would lead steeply down to a creek, through the water and up the other side.
Ham explained that the road was bulldozed through in the 1980s. Protesting greenies fought it all the way, and, although the road was put through, it never became the highway that the developers wanted. Now it was unlikely that it ever would, as the Daintree Rainforest had been declared a World Heritage Site.
Either side of the road was lined with rainforest. The tops of the hills gave brief glimpses of the sea, dotted with the blue-green underwater islands of the Great Barrier Reef. There were few vehicles other than the rusting hulks of those that hadn’t made it.
After about an hour, the forest thinned and they were driving among individual big trees that were separated by scrub grazed by cattle. They were out of the National Park, and shortly afterwards turned off the Bloomfield Track to head inland on a route that was little more than a couple of cattle ruts. The dogs, who had been quiet for most of the journey, began yelping—they knew that the destination was nearby.
A few minutes later, Ham pulled into the shade of a big tree alongside a dry creek bed. They all climbed out, and, before Luke even had a chance to survey the place, Chizza had his gear out of the back and was heading into the scrub with a rifle over his shoulder.
‘Where are you going?’ yelled Ham.
‘I get my own pig!’ Chizza yelled back, without lessening his stride.
‘Please yourself,’ mumbled Ham. ‘See if we care.’
The dogs were released and, after a long pee, came and sat beside the ute, their eyes following every movement Ham made as the gear was unloaded.
‘Time to get your suits on, isn’t it, guys?’ said Ham opening a rucksack. Out came a couple of thick canvas harnesses. The dogs inched closer. ‘OK, who’s first?’ Both wanted to be.
Luke watched as Ham fitted the protective gear, first onto Spock and then Kirk. All the time he talked to them as if they were human, rubbing their heads, and giving them a cuddle when the job was finished. This was a side of Ham that Luke had not seen before—his caring side.
When he’d finished kitting out the dogs, Ham strapped on his knife, and after a thick application of sunscreen they were ready to go. For a moment Ham studied the direction in which Chizza had disappeared. ‘That’s where I wanted to hunt,’ he said. ‘I guess we’d better head in the opposite direction. We don’t want to end up with both of us tracking the same pig. Not when one’s carrying a gun. Chizza’s so mad at the moment he might shoot a
t anything.’
So started Luke’s first pig hunt with dogs. It was nothing like the one he did with Kev on the Three-oh-nine. It was longer, hotter, and dustier.
They were heading south, back towards the forest. After an hour under the burning sun, they moved into the welcoming shade of the trees.
‘Let’s take a breather and have a drink,’ said Ham, swinging his leg over a fallen tree trunk.
Luke didn’t argue.
While they drank, the dogs ran around, sniffing the ground, seeking a scent that didn’t seem to exist.
‘Do you think Chizza will have got something?’ Luke asked.
‘Nah! We would’ve heard the shot. That rifle of his makes a hell of a bang.’
‘Does he get like that very often?’
‘Aw, sometimes. He’s a funny bloke, got a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Comes from being foreign, I guess. He reckons that when he first came to Aussie some people gave him a rough time because of his accent.’
‘Where’s he from?’
‘Russia or something like that. Begins with R.’
‘Romania?’ Luke suggested.
‘That’s the one. Romania. Came out here about five years back.’
Romania! The passport used by the mule in Auckland had been Romanian.
‘How’d he get so rich?’
‘Computers,’ replied Ham. ‘His business is very successful. He looks after lots of places around Cape Trib and all the way down to Brisbane. At times he has to visit Sydney and Melbourne. He’s a very clever man.’
‘Did he set up that photo-viewing program you sent me?’
‘Yeah! Pretty good, isn’t it? Lots of the tourists send it off to their friends.’
Luke hesitated, unsure of how much he should say. ‘Yeah, it’s an OK program, but they shouldn’t be sending that sort of file around the place.’
Ham studied his son. ‘Do you know about computers?’
Luke nodded.
‘What’s wrong with the file?’ He’d gone all defensive.
‘It’s an exe file. They can contain viruses that get into people’s computers and steal personal details.’
