by Ray Smithies
Forbes nearly choked on his tea on hearing the word Peterswood and some business matter.
‘Are you all right?’ asked the publican.
‘Yes, I’m fine, tea went down the wrong way.’
Johnson tried re-dialing but the signal was too weak. ‘These mobiles can be bloody useless sometimes!’ he grumbled.
Forbes was unsure if the comment was directed at him or not. He left the cafe and returned to his office in a curious frame of mind following the events over breakfast.
~ * ~
At around the same time as Forbes’ encounter in the cafe, Senior Sergeant Ross Whittaker parked his car in Bridge Street to follow up a problem at the Regency Nightclub. His subordinate had filed a report regarding a theft the previous night, but the club’s on-duty manager had requested the attendance of the most senior-ranked officer. At 8.55 am Whittaker had arrived slightly ahead of schedule and found the front entrance still locked. With five minutes to kill he returned to his car and waited patiently for the doors to be opened by the morning staff. He sat observing the pedestrians scurry toward their intended destinations, undoubtedly on a mission to arrive on the preferred side of nine o’clock. Then he made a most peculiar observation.
On the footpath directly opposite the nightclub, James Slattery and Kurt Muller were walking on a collision course toward each other. Whittaker was expecting the two men to cross paths without acknowledging the presence of the other, but they stopped to carry out a conversation. That’s strange, thought Whittaker. He wasn’t aware that Brigit O’Neill’s ex-boyfriend and the resident of the caravan park knew each other. The discussion appeared spirited and he could only surmise there was more to this unexpected rendezvous than passing pleasantries. They gave the impression that both men were mutually satisfied about something. Their heads nodded in agreement and their body language suggested they had been friends for some time. Whittaker thought it was odd to have a resident of Pedley in social contact with a casual visitor who resided at the caravan park. What common interest did these two share?
To his further surprise Slattery then retrieved a carton wrapped in brown paper from a plastic carry bag. His actions appeared cautious as he surveyed the immediate vicinity, giving the impression the contents were of a dubious nature. The object was about the size of a shoebox. He passed the package to Muller, who accepted it with a handshake.
Whittaker’s curiosity level heightened. He contemplated whether to investigate the matter further. At that precise moment his concentration was distracted as the Regency Nightclub’s doors were finally opened. His hesitation had resulted in missed opportunity, for the two men had already departed and gone their separate ways. He was puzzled by this curious rendezvous and realised that if it hadn’t been for his nine o’clock meeting he would be none the wiser about their connection. With the club now accessible, he decided to keep his appointment.
~ * ~
H
amish and Brigit were preparing a breakfast of porridge and scrambled eggs when news of the overnight storm was suddenly broadcast from the kitchen radio.
The Bureau of Meteorology has issued flooding in the following affected areas. For east of Ravensmouth Peninsula include the regions of Middleton, Guildford, South Stretton and Torrens. West of Cascade Heads include Bowden, Bellrose and Leeman. The low-lying farming communities of Blakey and Ashworth are currently without power and all major roads leading into Pedley and Talbolt have been cut. Fortunately there have been no reported fatalities and the estimated damage is expected to reach ...
‘I think we get the general picture. So how do we return to Pedley?’ enquired Burke, turning down the volume.
‘I can only think of one possible route,’ said Hamish.
‘Oh, and what might that be?’ I asked.
‘Take the boat from Seddon, a small fishing village about twenty minutes south of Ashworth.’
‘A boat, Hamish? Are you out of your mind?’ I responded.
‘On the contrary, I believe it to be a sensible route,’ insisted Hamish.
‘Why, in God’s name?’
‘Because it’s the only way you can return to Pedley.’
‘Haven’t you forgotten one thing? According to the weather report the farming community of Ashworth is flooded and has no power,’ said Brigit.
‘They referred to the low-lying areas, which are on the Pedley side of town. The road from Peterswood is on high ground, as is the route from Ashworth to Seddon.’
Burke said, ‘Hamish, tell me more about this boat.’
‘The boat takes up to around ten or so vehicles and carries a maximum of thirty people,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘It’s quarter to ten now. The boat departs at one o’clock each afternoon so there’s plenty of time to get down there. However, with this flood crisis in mind there’s the possibility a number of people will have the same idea. I suggest you leave very soon.’
‘How do we get there?’ asked Burke.
‘Travel back to Ashworth, and just past the main street you’ll see a signpost on the left indicating Seddon, eighteen kilometres away. The road from there will take you over the McDonald Ranges and then wind its way down into the town.’
‘What sort of boat is it?’ I asked.
‘I’ve travelled on her before. She’s an old cargo boat called the Molly Bloom. She ain’t no Queen Mary, but it’s a good trip around the coast taking three hours to reach Pedley.’
‘The Pedley wharf is a good distance from the main road and maybe the last place this syndicate might suspect,’ offered Martino.
‘That may be so, but I still believe the four of you need to be on your guard the moment you leave the farm,’ said the wary Irishman. ‘These drug people followed you to my farm, so what’s to stop them laying in wait on the return trip?’
‘Tom, did you ever find your mobile?’ asked Burke. ‘I’m anxious to contact base and leave a message.’
‘No. It must’ve dropped to the ground when those bastards harassed us last night. I’ve already looked this morning but can’t find the bloody thing. It’s probably destroyed by now.’
‘There’ll be two-way or mobile communication aboard the Molly Bloom. It’ll have to wait until then. At least police business will guarantee us passage,’ replied Burke.
The weather was moderately warm, providing both a cloudless sky and gentle breeze. We said our goodbyes to Hamish and his dogs, vowing to return when this murder and drug matter was over. Cain and Abel commenced their farewell run on either side of our car, but stopped short upon reaching The Grange arch.
Our two-car trip from Peterswood to Ashworth was a slow and tedious journey. The storm had left its trail of destruction and debris scattered throughout the land. Overnight waterfalls had been formed and were still sending down their cascading overflows from the hillside peaks. The intensity of the rain had created a path of corrugated burrows upon the gravel surface, resulting in a continuous vibration that shook the cars, and us, to the hilt. According to Hamish, a bitumen road would not greet us until the stretch between Ashworth and Seddon. It couldn’t come quick enough.
Turning a sharp corner I suddenly noticed a number of people, both adults and children, walking toward us with heads bowed. I decided to pull over and ask about the road conditions up ahead. Leaving my car, I strolled toward the approaching group. To my dismay the situation was far worse than anticipated.
‘We’ve travelled on foot from the valley. It’s a disaster down there, widespread flooding everywhere and a number of debris flows are still happening,’ their spokesman informed me.
‘And the road ahead?’
‘There was a landslide about a kilometre from here, but a number of the locals cleared an opening this morning. Apparently the first priority is to keep as many roads open as possible. But it’s a different story down below, where a number of communities are already isolated. Bridges and roads are impassible and a lot of power lines are down.’
‘Where are you all headed?’ I as
ked.
‘We have two large cabins in the hills not far from here, which is where we’ll stay until the flood subsides.’
I couldn’t help but feel for these poor souls. All they appeared to have left were the clothes on their backs and a number of bags with basic essentials.
I had read somewhere about these debris flows which emerge from high ground as a result of rain-saturated terrain. Progressively becoming landslides, they travel down the steep hillsides as soil slumps that tend to liquefy and accelerate in speed. As momentum gathers, the soil flows collect small trees and foliage in their path, depositing mud and debris upon the ground below. Looking around, I could see the creek to my left had been transformed into a swollen stream and I could only envisage the devastation this one creek alone would carry down to the valley.
‘I can see by your expression you’re shocked by all this,’ remarked the spokesman.
‘I’m sorry, I had no idea the extent of damage this storm had caused.’
‘Consider yourself lucky to be on high ground. The devastation below will take some time to fix. The land’s littered with dead cattle and there are scores of teams clearing it with chainsaws. Our immediate need is heavy machinery, but of course this will take time.’
‘We hope your luck turns for the better,’ I said as a parting gesture.
‘Yes, a good time to be on speaking terms with the almighty,’ he called back as the group recommenced their ascending route.
I walked over to the police car to inform Burke and Martino of what had been discussed. They had both chosen to remain in the car to listen to the latest flood report.
Some two minutes down the road the distinct sound of chainsaws greeted our arrival. Whittling away at the pines and gums that had contributed to this havoc, the path was now all but cleared. I could see the resultant scarred path the landslide had created and couldn’t help but marvel at the hard work these men had accomplished. They reassured us that the remainder of the trip to Ashworth should be accessible providing we drove with caution.
My immediate concern was the numerous creek crossings, and with each passing came a feeling of relief that the bridges had been built to withstand the onslaught of the storm. Fortunately this country road continued to wind its path throughout the high country, allowing sufficient elevation to escape the flood lands below.
When we finally arrived in Ashworth, the village looked remarkably unscathed despite the numerous warnings issued by the bureau. I could only surmise the damage was concentrated throughout the low-lying farming communities to the western side of town.
Despite the storm’s aftermath, with its continuous piles of roadside debris, the rugged beauty of the McDonald Ranges still shone through and signaled that journey’s end was near. These series of treeless rolling hills exposing their abundance of granite provided a spectacular rugged backdrop as we commenced our descent. Nestled in the valley below stood the tiny village of Seddon by the bay, whose coastal waters reflected a sapphire hue so renowned in the region.
The two cars arrived in the heart of town, where shops still furbished their original timbered verandahs and old horse troughs stood unused from a bygone era. The two-way traffic was separated by central parkland that featured both a clock monument erected from local granite and a memorial stone dedicated to the soldiers who lost their lives in the two world wars.
Hamish was spot-on when he described Seddon as a charming little fishing town that oozed character and old-world charm. I checked my watch as the wharf and our pride of the fleet suddenly came into view.
‘It’s quarter to one. She departs in fifteen minutes,’ I said to Brigit.
‘Hamish was right, it certainly ain’t no Queen Mary,’ said Brigit, echoing Hamish and looking at the old relic that was probably built sixty years ago and bore the name MS Molly Bloom.
A man directed three vehicles onto the deck and positioned them in the stern where four other vehicles sat already secured. The Molly Bloom was in need of a facelift and perhaps a lick of paint to give the old girl a bit of sparkle, but basically she still appeared to be a very solid and dependable carrier. Looking from our car window, I could see the hall anchor had already been drawn and was fitting snugly into the hawse pipe. I saw a small crane used for cargo handling in operation on the port side, most likely taking aboard the last of the merchandise supplies. A collection of various aerials, including radar, was erected at higher elevation on the main mast.
The old girl appeared to be driven by a 90-hp diesel engine, which I knew would produce a speed of around ten knots. It had probably undergone a number overhauls and upgrades throughout the years. Starboard side played host to the passengers, and there appeared to be a kiosk serving drinks and snacks. Yes, this would be a pleasant voyage following the coastline around to Pedley, I thought.
‘Tom, we’d better hurry. If Hamish was right about the number of car spaces, there are only about three left.’
I turned to see if Burke and Martino were still behind us.
The two cars accelerated up the ramp and across a broad, heavy-duty ramp. We were directed around to stern side, where a second person was waiting to clamp our vehicles. Once the chains were secured we made our way up the companion ladder. Around to starboard the four of us took up our seating positions to enjoy the coastal scenery and some of the simple offerings provided by the onboard kiosk.
On my way to buy four cappuccinos, I counted twenty-three people, primarily made up of couples and two families with their respective children. I could see a thermometer mounted upon a nearby wall registering eighteen degrees, which, given the time of year, was a comfortable temperature to enjoy the passage.
Brigit and I sat in our deck chairs sipping at our coffees, observing the other passengers going about their business and looking across to some fishermen who were still in port preparing their boats for the afternoon catch.
‘Wonder what the poor people are doing?’ I said.
‘Tom, I’m going to enjoy this trip. So glad Hamish came up with the idea.’
‘And you can thank the storm for redirecting us here.’
~ * ~
A short distance away a Toyota Land Cruiser had just been secured to the stern deck. Its two occupants immediately vacated the vehicle and one man made a mobile call.
‘Charlie here, boss. We’re on board the Molly Bloom. They never saw us following them.’
‘Very good, Charlie. What about Brad Morgan?’ enquired the Piedpiper.
‘He’s just arrived so we’ll talk soon. The two cops from the farm are also here.’
‘I’m sure you can deal with them. Nothing too serious, though. Remember, other than mobile communication there is to be no direct contact with Morgan prior to the abduction. The element of surprise must be maintained throughout and if by some chance they do suspect a problem, then we have the unsuspecting Brad Morgan up our sleeve,’ directed his superior.
‘Sure, boss.’
‘Did you enquire if the boat stops between Seddon and Pedley?’
‘No stops,’ responded Charlie.
‘Very well, and what time’s your expected arrival into Pedley?’
‘It’s a three-hour trip so that’ll make it four o’clock,’ Charlie replied.
‘This is the plan, so listen carefully. You will apprehend Brigit O’Neill and put her in the back of your vehicle. Ensure her one good arm is bound. Use the chloroform just before you disembark so you don’t arouse suspicion. Above all, she must be delivered to me alive. Within reason, do what you wish with Tom Harrison for he’s of no consequence, but be sensible about how you arrange her abduction. Keep your fellow passengers in mind.’
‘Okay, boss.’
‘Charlie, I can’t emphasise this point enough - avoid attracting attention because the fewer people that know of this the better. Tell me, how many people are on board?’
‘Around thirty or so.’
‘Did you cover the three rear windows of the vehicle as instructed?’ ‘Yes.�
�
‘I would strongly suggest you carry out this maneuver within the last half hour before docking. Carried out too early, you’ll have all that unnecessary time to deal with, and besides, the use of chloroform just prior to arriving will serve us better. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll arrange to have two of my men waiting at Pedley wharf in case they’re required for backup.’
‘Okay.’
‘Charlie, this is your third and final chance to correct an otherwise deplorable record in carrying out my instructions. Fail me a third time and your punishment will be carried out.’
‘The O’Neill girl will be yours this time,’ declared a nervous Charlie.
‘And so be it, otherwise it’s your head!’
