Rihanna called out the temperature reading, moved to the front of the filly and placed her stethoscope on the filly just behind her front legs. She had Brayden note the filly’s respiration rate, and then moved to do a visual check for nasal discharge. Rihanna then rolled back the soft velvety muzzle of the filly to check her gums. She was looking to establish a baseline of health with the initial observations. It would also be useful to compare a lot of horses in one location to see the general health.
After completing the observations, Rihanna moved to the rear of the stall and took a look at the automatic waterer. She pushed on the float and the receptacle failed to fill. It had been turned off. However, the remaining water in the receptacle needed to be emptied and cleaned.
She turned to the groom. “I’m not sure if you’ve been advised or not yet but all the auto waterers have been turned off. We’ll also need you to empty the remaining water and give it a clean out. Dr Connors is mandating that all water buckets are cleaned and refilled every two hours.”
“Bloody hell. What sort of dumb ass rule is that? You vets are unbelievable with your bullshit protocols,” the groom fumed, his hands clenching into fists.
Brayden’s moved his stance slightly to block Rihanna from the groom. He straightened to his full height and looked imposing. “You might want to check that temper, mate. We don’t make the rules; we’re just doing our job like you.” But it was the edge in his voice that the scrawny groom immediately recognised and knew pushing further here would not be to his benefit.
“Sorry, mate, just pissed that I’ve now got ten frickin’ buckets to fill up every two hours. Not to mention the extra ones that chestnut colt in the stall down the other end enjoys tossing around.”
“Can’t be helped. Let’s move onto the next horse so you can take care of the buckets and the waterers.” Brayden gave the filly one last stroke and moved to the door. She turned her head and moved to follow him. He ran his hand gently down her nose and dropped his head to blow gently into her wide nostrils. She softly whinnied and tossed her head.
The groom looked surprised. “She sure seems to like you.”
“He has that effect on women,” Rihanna piped up before Brayden could respond. She was on the move to the next stall. He had no choice but to follow. “Come on, Stud. More females for you to charm.” She gave him a sly wink and smile.
***
They’d been at it all morning. Between Rihanna and her father, they’d managed to carry out an initial observation on every horse. All the staff associated with the horses appeared to check out as well. Beta team had all met up for lunch under the large shady trees. Rheeba had sent Selena out with a couple of cold boxes full of food and drinks.
Brayden was currently chatting on his mobile. From what she could tell, the caller was Tom.
She turned to her dad. “So you want another run through with obs this afternoon?”
“Yeah, I think so. Let’s see if there’s any movement on the baseline.”
“Okay, you want to take the same blocks again?”
“Yeah, the paperwork should be simpler that way.”
Rihanna was not surprised at her father’s desire for them to cover the same blocks again. If there was one thing Peter Mason hated, it was paperwork. Not that he was actually doing it this time. Quade was.
Turning her attention to Rory, she asked, “So what have you discovered this morning?”
“Not much,” he joked. “I have scored a few phone numbers though.”
Brayden walked back to the group at that moment. “Well, don’t even think of going there at the moment.”
Everyone stilled at Brayden’s tone. Whatever Tom had told him hadn’t been good. “One of the Chinese guys broke this morning. Don’t know what Tom did, and I thought it better not to ask. But what he did tell me is that it’s for real. This event is the target.”
A hush settled over the group like a black cloud. They all knew what it meant. The threat was real and it could happen at any time over the next few days. If the virus got released, not only could it annihilate a population of horses but it would certainly have the same effect on any person who came into contact with the virus as well. At an event like this, the exposure rate could be upwards of fifty thousand people.
Rihanna had had enough. “Why don’t we just close the event down?”
Brayden nodded his head, clearly agreeing with her thinking. “I already asked the boss that, and he said the call from up the line was to continue with the plan and flush them out. They believe that aborting the event now will only give them more time to prepare and potentially get better organised.”
Peter looked agitated and very uncomfortable. “Shit, how much further up the line is there than the Centre?”
“Not very fucking much,” Quade confirmed for him.
“Look, there’s no point arguing over whether or not we can cancel. The call has been made. Boss’s managed to wrangle permission to advise the key organisers of this event but that number totals two and they have no idea how to manage something like this. So that means we’re the frontline.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Obviously, the latest news was weighing heavy on him. “Boss has also brought up the SAS. They’ll covertly be moved into position, in case they’re needed.”
“Don’t suppose they happened to say how they intend to release the virus?” Rory asked half-heartedly, trying to make a joke of it.
Brayden turned to him, all business. “Ah, nooooo.”
Rory curled the side of his face up and nodded. “Didn’t figure we could be that lucky. So what’s our plan?”
“Still the same, just be even more vigilant. Keep your eyes open, people; it’s only a matter of when. Okay, if there’s nothing further, let’s get back to it.”
They packed up their lunch things and placed them under the tree. Someone would be back to take care of them later.
“Get whatever water and snacks you want out of the coolers now. Don’t take anything from them once they’re left unattended. If you need anything, radio Rheeba. Don’t get tempted to use the snack bar, just in case,” Brayden called to everyone as he adjusted his comms unit and started to do checks with the team.
Rihanna grabbed a couple of bottles of water, muesli bars, and a couple of pieces of fruit and put them into her backpack. Her focus had been on the horses. She hadn’t even really thought about how she could become infected through eating something that was contaminated with the virus. The place was a potential minefield. Essentially everything could become a possible means for contamination or release of the virus. Surely the terrorists would target the avenues for greatest exposure?
***
The afternoon was dragging on. So far, all the checks on the horses had shown nothing out of the ordinary. Brayden could literally see Rihanna begin to wane.
She was hot, tired, and anxious. They all were. The difference was he and his fellow Centre team members were genetically better prepared to deal with all those aspects. They could operate on next to no sleep for days if they had to. Heat didn’t affect them anywhere near as much. It was still uncomfortable but not completely energy-sapping like Rihanna was finding it.
They’d just finished their fourth block and had about another twenty horses to check before they’d be finished with this iteration of observations.
Rihanna moved to start on the next block when he pulled her back into the shade offered by the overhang of the roofline. He flipped a nearby bucket over and motioned for her to sit. “Take a break, baby. You’re suffering. The heat’s stifling this afternoon.”
He pulled a bottle of water and a banana out of her backpack and passed them to her. “Here, get this into you.”
She took the water but shook her head at the banana. “I’m not hungry.”
He pushed the banana at her once again. “Minky, eat the banana—you need the electrolytes. This heat is sapping you.”
She reluctantly took the fruit and peeled it. Brayden flipped anoth
er bucket and pulled out a banana and water for himself.
“I hate this waiting, Bray.”
“Yeah, me too, but there’s not much we can do about it.”
“I just wish we could…”
Brayden raised his hand, cutting her off. He was listening to something coming through the radio comms. “Okay, it’s probably nothing, but we’ll meet there.” He immediately got to his feet and slung the backpack over his shoulder.
Rihanna was lurched to her feet, ready to follow him.
He was striding back towards the entrance. “Rory’s found a block that’s had the waterers turned back on.”
They passed the blocks they had recently been working in and rounded the corner to find Rory bent over the main water flow cock on the edge of the building. The hissing sound of water being sprayed into the individual stable receptacles could be clearly heard.
Brayden immediately went to where Rory was bent over the exposed pipe and water cock. “Have you got it?”
“Nuh. Fuck, someone’s broken off the handle and the valve’s jammed in the open position.” There was nothing jovial in his tone at the moment.
Brayden pressed the concealed button on his shirt, activating the radio mic. “Heads up, we’ve got a scenario at A Block. Someone’s turned on the waterers and jammed the valve in the on position on the main line.”
“Get the horses out of the stalls immediately. We’ll head down there now.” Peter’s voice came through clear.
“Roger. We’ll start emptying stalls.”
He turned back to Rory. “Can you shut it off?”
“I don’t think so without some tools. And what’s the point? The water is already flowing.” Rory was right as per normal. He could stuff around with it for ages but the damage was done.
Brayden was on the move to the nearest stall. “You check the next block. I’ll start moving horses.”
Rory was already running towards the next block when he turned and called back. “Get the boss to check the line at the entry. If they’re using the water as the transport, then they have to be getting the virus in somehow.”
“On it,” he yelled as he activated the mic again. “Boss, need someone to check the main line feeding the waterers. See if anything’s been connected or if it’s been tampered with.”
He grabbed the lead rope and headed into the stall. The bay filly was nervous but cooperative. He rubbed his hand down her neck and tied her up on the outside of the stall. Where the hell was that fucking groom? He could be helping. More to the point, where was Rihanna? He’d lost contact with her.
“Rihanna,” he yelled as he moved to the next stall.
“Down here, Bray, moving horses,” she called back.
“Okay,” he yelled back, glancing over his shoulder and noticing she’d already got three out of their boxes and had them tied up outside.
He worked his way down until all the horses were out of this row of stalls. In between moving horses, he’d been updating and receiving information through the comms unit.
Brayden was moving to the row of stalls that butted up again directly behind the row he’d just emptied.
“Brayden, Dylan’s just confirmed that the line has been compromised. Virus is in the watering system.” The boss’s voice was clear through his earpiece.
Fuck, fuck, ten thousand fucks.
They had a disaster on their hands.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Where were all the fucking staff when you needed them? Rory cursed as he raced to get horses out of the stalls. The place seemed to be deserted of staff.
His earpiece came alive to the sound of Brayden’s voice. “Rory, start bringing horses down from C Block to the transport yard. We’re going to evacuate the horses to a quarantine property. We can’t manage this shit here.”
“Roger, Bray.”
The five of them had been moving horses non-stop for the last twenty minutes and they still hadn’t come close to getting them all out. What a cluster fuck.
How many horses did he dare lead down at once? He glanced up, judging the distance. About four hundred metres. One was sensible, two was risky, three was crazy, four was just plain fucking nuts. He chose four.
“Come on, babies, let’s go.” He kept his voice calm and sing-song as he started to walk them between the stable blocks to the yard. The steel of their shoes was bouncing off the bitumen and echoing between the buildings. Every fibre in his body was yelling at him to run, but he had to stay calm. The young horses were anxious enough as it was.
“Steady, fella, let’s not race. We can do this. We can do this. We can do this.” He continued to chant in his sing-song voice. Who was he trying to convince? The horses or himself? he wondered.
Right then a loud clap of thunder erupted from the sky. He immediately felt his left arm reefed one way and his right the other. A streak of lightning flicked through the angry-looking clouds.
Just what they needed: a Queensland late afternoon summer storm. Should have fuckin’ known. The day was just too hot. He’d be lucky to hold onto the four of them now. Fuck, now he knew what torture by galloping horses felt like.
Four wasn’t feeling like such a great plan now.
Rory felt the skin on his hands burn from the friction of the ropes. He couldn’t let go. God knows where they’d end up if they bolted. He could only hope they felt the resistance on the end of the leads and eventually settle.
“Steady boys and girls, steady, steady, steady,” he soothed, his voice not belying the pain.
They settled into a workable jig-jog and moved on.
Thunder and lightning erupted again. Again the horses hauled back on his arms. Again he gritted his teeth and hung on. What he wouldn’t give right about now to have a bit more equine and a little less canine DNA in his veins.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brayden leading four down the road at the opposite end of the blocks. The horses were all calm and wandering along like kids’ ponies. Huh, the frickin’ benefits of having strong equine DNA.
As they approached the transport area, he saw a couple of large horse transporters pull up in the loading area. Their drivers jumped out and lowered the tailgates to allow the horses to be loaded. Rory moved his merry band of excited horses to the nearest truck. He wasn’t looking to hold onto them any longer than necessary. One of Terry’s staff jogged over with a clipboard, noting the lot numbers of the horses he had.
The driver came up and motioned for him to pass over a horse. He gladly relinquished the big black gelding on the far right. That fucker was strong!
In less than two minutes, all four were loaded. The truck could take another dozen. He turned and raced back to the stables, not really caring who saw him. In all the chaos happening at the moment, nobody would notice his unnatural speed. It felt good to use it.
Against his better judgement, he grabbed another four horses. His hands were on fire already. Damage was already done. The storm was growing in intensity. The rain hadn’t started to fall but it wasn’t far away. His ears were ringing from the high-pitched screams of frightened horses and the constant chatter of his team on the radio comms. They didn’t really need the comms to communicate but they had to blend in and appear totally “normal.”
He cursed his canine dominance again. His hearing was super sensitive. At times like these, it felt as if his head would explode.
As he expected, the horses tried to bolt—terrified of all the activity. Once again, he hung on and delivered them safely to the waiting driver. The few minutes of hell seemed to be at least an hour. The driver raised the tailgate and was moving to leave.
Realising he was the only one of his team in the transport yard, he turned to head back for another bunch of horses. He’d gone no farther than a few paces when the pungent smell of fire wafted into his nostrils. Following the origin of the smell, he spun his head right. His heart leapt into his throat.
He took off at a dead run.
The transporter at the far-right end w
as engulfed in flames. The orange and red strokes flickered through the high windows of the forty-five foot trailer. Loose horses scuttled away in every direction; he ducked left to avoid being mowed down by a dapple grey. As he got closer, he realised what had happened.
The sawdust shovelled in on top of the rubber matting had somehow ignited. It was common practice to cover the floor of horse transports with sawdust for hygiene purposes and to reduce the stress on the horse’s legs.
But what had caused it to ignite in the first place? A definite question for later.
He moved to the rear of the trailer, as close as he dared. He peered inside; the intense heat from the burning rubber scorched his eyes and skin. Relief flooded through him when he was sure there were no more horses in the trailer.
There was nothing further he could do here. The fire was far enough away from the rest of the trucks to not pose an immediate issue. They had bigger problems to deal with than this right now. He turned to head back to the stables when he caught sight of movement at the front of the trailer, just behind the prime mover. The flicker in the corner of his eye propelled him to check.
He raced up along the side of the trailer; the blue and green paint job was rapidly peeling and blistering from the intense heat. Were his eyes deceiving him? A wave of long white blonde hair was flicked over the shoulder of a tiny woman. It didn’t immediately register what she was doing.
He looked a little closer and let his brain process what he saw.
She couldn’t be, could she? Oh fuck, she was. This crazy little pixie was trying to disconnect the trailer from the prime mover.
He reached for her and closed his hand around her bicep, yanking her away from the truck.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled at her above the horrific crackle of flames. She struggled hard against his grasp. Her strength and determination surprised him.
“Getting the bloody prime mover off the trailer.” Her blue eyes were blazing with the same intensity of the fire wreaking havoc through the trailer. She tugged once more and broke free and raced back under the trailer. He noticed then that she’d managed to release the turntable from the trailer and was struggling with the hoses for air brakes and electrics.
Finding Trust (Centre Games) Page 33
