The All-Purpose Bodies: A Fast-Paced Thriller (Commander Shaw Book 11)

by Philip McCutchan

  All was quiet.

  I went cautiously over to where the man had fallen out of the tree and I found the corpse was that district officer from Logatau. I was to discover later it was a pity he was dead but there it was and at that time I saw no reason whatever to be other than very, very happy indeed because there was no-one else around. And when I called Flair out of hiding and we trudged across the sand and into the jungle that ran round the headland, and emerged on the far side looking for the transport that DO must have used to come from Logatau, we found it right away, even though he’d made an attempt to conceal it in the lee of the trees: a helicopter. And utterly unguarded.

  I said, “Well, well. Shout aloud salvation!”

  “If you can fly it,” Flair said.

  “I can,” I told her. “I haven’t a current licence, but I’m not letting that stop me!”

  Everything, I felt, was going my way. When we reached the chopper I found she had almost a full tank. That being the case, there seemed to be no need to stop off at Logatau. It wasn’t all that far to Brisbane. I said, “Get aboard and we’re off.” As we lifted towards that wonderful blue sky I had the all’s-well feeling more strongly than ever, and though I had quite enough experience to distrust such feelings normally I never for one moment anticipated the nasty way things were going to turn out. I shouted to Flair, “If only I had a bomb aboard, I’d head back for High’s place … but it won’t be long now.” That, anyway, was what I thought as I took the chopper out across the water, heading south and west with a song in my heart. It was a beautiful day to be up there in the blue and we both enjoyed the flight and seven hours later we cleared the inshore side of the Barrier Reef and then, soon after, brought up the twists of the Brisbane River ahead. Soon after that we had touched down at the airport, after waiting some while for a signal to land. That was when the trouble started and it was also when I realized how damn little there was to choose between Britain and Australia when it came to officialdom and red tape, even when a continent was liable to blow up around one, for all I knew, at any time at all.

  *

  They just didn’t like us in Brisbane.

  Of course, I know it wasn’t the best recommendation in the world to be flying passportless and without a licence, in a stolen machine, wearing nothing but shoes and torn shorts. It all made the authorities doubt my story as to who I was. But they recognized Dunwoodie’s wife all right, and it was that more than anything else that persuaded the airport brass and the police to put through a call to Slattery in Sydney; and even after speaking to Slattery, the police insisted on holding me until Slattery himself came up to Brisbane to identify me and not even the threat of a report to the prime minister himself could shake them out of that one.

  Of course Slattery, who seemed to me to take his time over coming up, had me out just as soon as he’d talked to the chief of police. I asked him first off if he’d got a line on the men who’d attacked us up in the Territory, and how Brett Cleland was getting along; and he said he had no lines anywhere and Brett was still in hospital but was coming on fine. I said, “That’s where I’ve been, too.”

  “Eh?” Slattery stared.

  “In hospital,” I said, and he stared still more. I gave him the whole story. Slattery was an Australian and even though he and I worked for the same outfit, I don’t think he had too much belief in poms. Anyway, he listened with a sardonic twist to his mouth that said clearly he didn’t believe a word of it, and that annoyed me a lot.

  I said, “Now look, for God’s sake, I’m not fooling. Flair saw it all too, remember.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Sure. By the way, Dunwoodie’s turned up again.” Flair wasn’t around just then.

  “I know that,” I said. “The police told us. Found here in Brisbane, just as I’ve told you he was going to be.”

  Slattery lifted his chin and scratched below it, frowning at me. “He seems okay, nothing wrong with him. I’ve talked to him. I mean nothing wrong mentally — physically’s different. He looked like he’s been on the bender he claims he has. You know something?”

  “Oh, go on,” I said angrily. “You see no reason to doubt what he says, is that it?”

  “Too right,” Slattery said calmly, giving me a grin that infuriated me. “Sure you haven’t had a drop too many yourself?”

  “That’s not funny,” I yelled at him. We were still in the police station, and the cops looked a bit restive at my tone. “Mr Slattery, I’ve given you the story straight, just as I saw it for myself. It’s all solid fact. High means what he says, don’t you ever doubt that for a moment, and personally I believe he can do it hands down unless we either bomb his hospital to hell or remove Learoyd and Dunwoodie from their posts, together with anyone else up at Lifeforce that could have been got at by High over say the last year.”

  “Well, I reckon you know what you’re asking,” Slattery said. “I’m telling you, it can’t be done. How d’you think I’m going to get Canberra to remove the top man at Lifeforce, and the minister responsible, and all the key men, just on your word that this bloke can do all he claims he can? Look, don’t you agree that what he says — or what you say he says — sounds bloody barmy?”

  “Oh, as barmy as hell,” I agreed in an icy voice. “Completely crazy! But I’ve seen it happening. I’ve seen Harry Carzac, for one thing. I saw Dunwoodie on that closed-circuit TV. He was real enough and God damn it, he didn’t know if he was on his arse or his elbow! Basically he still doesn’t. Meanwhile, both he and Learoyd are the means, literally, to an all-time high in nuclear explosions and one that’s going to mean the end of all the new prosperity in central Australia, to say nothing of the war threat that’s going to end every goddam thing. Doesn’t that mean anything at all to you, Mr Slattery?”

  Slattery shrugged, got up, flapped his arms helplessly, and took a few turns up and down the room. He said heavily, “You’re pretty convinced, I’ll give you that. Damned if I know what the bloody hell to think.”

  I said, “I’ve had to believe some pretty queer things before now and this doesn’t strain me too much. Besides, I’ve known WUSWIPP a number of years now. Those boys always try to carry out their plans. I don’t know how long we have, but at a guess I’d say we need to act right away if we’re to stop this thing going into business. Now Flair and I have got away from Kimbau, High’s bound to speed things up.”

  “If he thinks anyone’s going to believe you, yes! Tell me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you say he made the point himself that Dunwoodie had been treated to this — this brain-control gadget precisely because he’d be able to persuade Canberra you were talking hooey?”

  “You didn’t get me wrong,” I confirmed. “That sums it up all right. So?”

  Slattery groaned. “So nothing. Hell, you’ve put me in a bloody spot, Shaw. No-one’s going to act without real proof and I don’t just see how you can get them that.”

  With dawning hope I asked, “You beginning to believe me?”

  “I don’t flaming know!” Slattery snapped. “All I know is, Dunwoodie’s back and that ends your job. And ours. We were only retained to find him, not to save Australia from some bloody lunatic islander!”

  *

  I wasn’t having that. I made a hell of a noise and I ruined Slattery’s life till he agreed to stick his neck out to the extent of contacting some bod in Canberra. After that they couldn’t very well not give me a hearing at least, just in case I turned out right and they got a kick in the pants over it. So, after I’d fitted myself out with suitable clothing, I was sent for, with Flair, to talk to the brass in the Ministry of Defence, brass that was headed by the minister himself. There was a high-up from Dunwoodie’s ministry present too, but not Dunwoodie himself, and in fact I didn’t see Dunwoodie at all. Flair hadn’t either, she told me; she’d kept clear of him for her own private reasons. Anyway, there was a long conference and everyone was politely worried about the possible implications but I knew none of them believed a word of it and that they all though
t I was some sort of a nut and that somehow or other, probably sexually, I’d involved Flair to the extent she was prepared to back me up with blatant lies. I suggested, knowing all the time that it could rebound on me, that they get a doctor to examine Dunwoodie’s head. To my surprise they agreed to ask Dunwoodie to submit to this, and agree he did, apparently quite happily; and we adjourned while the examination was made and reported on. I was right; it did rebound on me. Four hours later we reconvened and they told me, icily, that Dunwoodie’s head was perfectly all right and there was no sign of a scar. I said, “I did warn you there probably wouldn’t be,” but I’d been stupidly hopeful the medical men might find a metallic rattle, or something on an x-ray.

  There was an ominous exchange of looks after that and the defence minister coughed and cleared his throat and said, “Well, gentlemen, I really don’t see any point in prolonging this. I take it there’s no objection to my closing the proceedings?”

  I said, “There’s a hell of an objection from this quarter. The least you can do is clean up Lifeforce. I’d like to remind you all that Mr Learoyd disappeared in exactly the same way as Mr Dunwoodie — and from Brisbane too, as it happens. Doesn’t that sound rather like a curious coincidence to you?”

  They didn’t like that either. The man from Dunwoodie’s ministry said, “Look, all that’s been settled. Mr Learoyd’s explanation fully satisfied the minister at the time and the matter was closed —”

  “Closed!” I said bitterly. “It was never even opened, under the Old Pals Act.” And in my anger I added, “The press is going to love all this. Boy, are they going to dig up some dirt now!”

  I saw the looks that passed after that one. I pressed harder than ever after that, sweating like a pig with the effort to convince. I saw I had them rattled, teetering on the edge of a grudging realization that I just might be able to rock a few thrones. I felt that I had them thinking that my story was so crazy that I couldn’t possibly have dreamed it all up, not to the extent of expecting to get away with it, anyhow. I’d hardly have stuck to it this long, after Dunwoodie’s head had failed to produce my evidence. I became optimistic enough even to suggest that an immediate and unheralded attack with very high-explosive bombs on High’s hospital would settle the whole thing for good and all. This shocked them; natives might get in the way. I was howled down on that, but loud and fast. However, in the end, after a good deal more persuasion, I won agreement, subject to the federal prime minister’s okay, to a proposal that I accompany an investigatory airlift to Kimbau, an airlift with — believe it or not! — real teeth in it so that if I was proved right beyond all doubt we would have at hand the means to deal with Doctor High. But in the meantime the working and routine of Lifeforce was certainly not to be interfered with in any way at all. Oh, no! Proof had to come first. And I would be accompanied by a medical officer from the defence ministry, a psychiatrist from Sydney, and a major-general to command the troops. Fair enough in a way, I thought, as I sank back in my seat in relief, but Christ, once again I’d expected less red tape from Australia. It sounded more like Britain, to need a psychiatrist to give the army the go-ahead. Anyway, once the decision was made, they didn’t hang around drinking gin like Whitehall would have done, which was something to be thankful for. The prime minister was approached right away and he agreed right away, too. Good-oh for him. After that, things took a brighter look. Seriousness was in the air at last, as if the prime minister’s personal involvement made the thing quite legal. I was alerted to leave Canberra at first light next morning.

  *

  I spent that night in a Canberra hotel with Flair. She didn’t know where Dunwoodie was and she didn’t care either. She was just happy to be with me. It was a good night and it was a pity I had to get up and leave her so early in the morning. She didn’t want me to go. She clung to me tight, that long honey hair of hers falling across my chest, her slim, lithe body warm against mine, our legs interwoven. But I pulled away gently and kissed her, and got dressed quickly, and said goodbye, and when I’d left the hotel room and was on my way down in the lift I had an odd and rather alarming feeling that it was going to be quite a while before we were together again, if ever.

  15

  In that very early dawning we left Canberra, twelve big helicopters carrying the general, the doctor, the nut consultant, me, and one hundred infantrymen armed with semi-automatic rifles plus grenades, light rocket-throwers, and other assorted small artillery.

  We came some hours later over Kimbau.

  I looked down on the golden sandy beaches and the thick jungle through which Flair and I had slogged so many weary hours only the night before last. Although under the overall jungle canopy I couldn’t pick up the paths we had used, I was able to direct the command pilot to the island’s interior and I picked up that valley into which we had slid initially. And there, looking down with much intentness and interest, I noted a difference: the intricate maze of paths had gone, had completely vanished as though all of a sudden the jungle had spread across and swallowed them up wholesale in its greedy, prolific advance. I dare say it was a natural enough phenomenon from the air, but suddenly I didn’t like it.

  The general, who was alongside me, noticed something up with me, I suppose, because he asked, “What’s the trouble, Shaw?”

  I didn’t want to commit myself just yet. That man already thought the worst of me, I felt certain. So I just shrugged and said, “It looks different from up here.”

  I got a long-suffering look for that and no further comment. I said, “This is about where we should go down.”

  “On those flaming trees? Like hell we do!” This was the pilot, who began looking for a nice, safe spot. He found one, right on top of High’s rock hospital, and started to take the helicopter down after an ethereal confab with the rest of the squadron. I wondered how many eyes, both human and radar, would be watching us right now. I wondered if High realized it was all up with him in the long run, whether he would start to take it out on those poor unfortunates in his wards. A few moments later we touched down, the other eleven machines floated down after us, and the troops climbed out and sorted themselves out in some kind of order and the general looked at me and barked, “Well, where do we go from here?”

  I walked to the cliff edge and stood looking down while the sun warmed my back. I pointed into the valley and said, “Down there. The entrance leads off the valley. But don’t ask me how we get down. I’ve only approached from the other side.”

  The general grunted irritably and snapped out a stream of orders and men began scurrying around looking for the easiest descent. In the end it was the general himself who found it, and loudly trumpeted the fact, and we all scrambled down into the valley, into the smelly, deserted tangle of trees and undergrowth, plus armament, doctor, and psychiatrist — the latter making pretty heavy weather of it and looking in desperate need of attention himself by the time we were down.

  We were now right alongside the base of the rock, not far, I thought, from that tunnel entrance where the lift was. I began to feel the excitement of the chase really gripping me now, in spite of the undoubted fact that those jungle paths really had vanished. I didn’t like that; it was only too likely that High had some sort of rapid-growth agent that he could use to make the jungle spread across them as fast as light; that didn’t worry me so much as the fact that the general was going to have even more reservations about me than he had already, to say nothing of the psychiatrist. I stumbled over the thick jungle mat with that Australian general breathing hard down my neck and getting more and more sceptical of me and muttering about the stink. I stumbled the whole way along that line of cliff, right to its end, and I never found that opening into the tunnel. We went back, still looking, feeling, knocking, searching with more and more desperation, and still we found nothing and saw nobody. I was sweating like a pig, and not just from that close, foetid heat. The psychiatrist was looking at me rather oddly, I thought, after one more ghastly stagger along that rock. He had the
couch glint in his eye, all right. Maybe I was nuts.

  Well, the general didn’t after all give up that easy — if easy was the word — and we made two more complete journeys and then he sent his troops through the jungle away from the cliff towards where I had told him that steep path ran up to the other lip of the valley. We all climbed up and sat around at the top while the troops prepared their weapons and the general made quite, quite sure there were no natives around. Then they lambasted the bottom of the cliff with the rocket-throwers. When nothing at all resulted from the bombardment, we all climbed down again, and up the other side to the waiting helicopters. We were all, I think, in a fairly weary state by this time and I couldn’t be entirely certain whether or not I was hearing things.