Which was exactly what Margaret yearned to do. Indeed she hungered to snuggle in to bed with him but she hid this and made her way back to her section. Graham snuggled down, only to suffer a fit of shivering, then several cramps in his legs and feet which were pure agony as the overworked muscles knotted into hard lumps. He cried out in pain and Roger made him get out of his sleeping bag. Roger then pummelled and massaged until the spasms passed.
“Thanks mate,” Graham said weakly. Then he gingerly slid back into the bag, dreading the hot agony of a repeat attack. Instead, sleep engulfed him.
Margaret also slipped into her sleeping bag and pulled the plastic sheet over her as the fog had begun to condense on the trees and drip. She had been awake all night worrying, aware that Elizabeth was sound asleep beside her. It had been such a relief when she’d heard Graham get back but she’d tried to act cheerful and normal. When she had seen his face in the light of the stove she had nearly given herself away. He had looked so tired and drawn. She had experienced a strong desire to hug his head to her breast. For a while she conjured up romantic fantasies of them embracing and kissing. She drifted off to sleep in a warm dream, hoping.
CHAPTER 17
WHERE IS THE GIRL HIDING?
For Emmanuel Bargheese it was the worst two days he could ever remember. For three years everything had run more or less smoothly and now, all because that fool Watton had left the safe open, he faced disaster! Bargheese was now finding it hard to cope with a situation quite outside his experience in this unfamiliar environment.
The sugar fields of Fiji and backstreets of Sydney were poor preparation for organizing a search for a missing girl hiding in this vast wasteland of bush. To him it was a harsh, sterile and alien place and only the money had kept him working in it so long. When he had chased the girl on foot from the railway line and across the highway was almost the first time he had ever walked in the Australian bush, even though he had emigrated to the country five years before.
The girl’s disappearance then had baffled him. He had cursed himself for taking his eyes off her while he had spoken to the men in the Landcruiser and couldn’t remember if he had seen her after that or whether he had finally lost sight of her when he’d climbed under the fence. Where had she gone? Did she run on up the slope and over into the gullies beyond; or did she hide in a log or climb a tree? She certainly couldn’t have gone down into that open valley where all the army cadets had been.
And these cadets. Had they been a stroke of luck or a hindrance? They had been very helpful and tried hard but perhaps they had scared her away even more.
Bargheese swore as he relived those hours. His long, slim fingers nervously lit a cigarette. He had not been thinking straight. Fear had been gripping his brain and bowels and it had pushed him to the edge of panic. He knew his life was now probably on the line if the police got hold of those documents and discs.
He thought he had been quick enough to get a vehicle along that track on Sandy Ridge to cut off her escape but had to concede there had been a delay of a few minutes and that could have been enough. A frightened person could run a long way in two or three minutes. The arrival of the police had upset him even more from fear they knew the truth but Falls had reassured him they didn’t. Falls had told the police the girl was only an accomplice to a thief. As the police already knew about the robbery because of the car crash, Bargheese had felt compelled to ask for their assistance, to make things look as they should be.
The police sergeant hadn’t been too enthusiastic, but NORMAC was an important employer in the district so he had complied with the requests for roadblocks. Bargheese was forced to put one of his own men at each roadblock to try to seize the briefcase.
The walk through the bush to the Canning River had put him in a foul temper. To search properly meant going slow, knowing that, if the girl was still running, she would be getting further away all the time. The view of the Canning had filled him with dismay. All that vine scrub! All those trees to hide in!
They had searched the dry sandy river bed for human footprints amongst the numerous cattle tracks but found none. Bargheese had studied the map given to him by the cadet. It reassured him to have the map but the study of it appalled him at the magnitude of his task. He had never tried to plan such a search and was temporarily at a loss as to how to go about it.
Bargheese realized the first step was to confine the girl in a small area, pin her down somehow, so that a thorough search could find her. From there he made some rapid decisions. He needed more men. He needed radios for communications, and he needed to move fast. He sent Vincent running to get him a portable radio from their vehicle at the causeway.
Next Bargheese decided to have the four security men from the ‘Fossicker’s Reward’ mine flown in to help and then realized the company had a helicopter and a Cessna which he could use in the search. The pilots were both in the smuggling up to their necks. ‘They will do what they are told,’ he thought. He radioed for them.
Leaving Vincent to watch the Canning Bargheese and Martinez had walked back to Sandy Ridge. Once there he decided he could use the cadets to plug another gap in his cordon. Just by being there the cadets could scare the girl away or help find her. In case she tried to go to them for help he left Martinez there. After a few words to the police sergeant about his roadblocks Bargheese had walked to the helicopter.
As soon as he had the headphones on he told the pilot to take off. He adjusted the seatbelt and looked out as they rose above the trees. His first impression was; ‘What a hopeless task!’ - bush and more bush, stretching from horizon to horizon with only a few isolated hills to break the monotony of undulating plain. He noted the clearings for road, railway and powerlines and the dark lines of trees marking watercourses. Then the glint of the sun on the roofs of Bunyip Bend caught his eye and he realized it wasn’t hopeless at all. There were only a few isolated human habitations for many kilometres. If they could be warned or watched it would limit the girl’s chances. ‘I must tell the story at those places to enlist their unwitting help,’ he decided.
Seeing Falls’ Landcruiser beside the highway Bargheese landed to talk to him after briefing Randall, the pilot, on the problem. He had sent the helicopter to search the area to the east along the Highway, Scrubby Creek and Five Mile Creek.
Bargheese and Falls had considered their plans on the map. They needed people watching at creek crossings, hills and road junctions to box the girl in between the Highway, Bunyip River, Canning River and Scrubby Creek. As well they needed to patrol the roads and search.
Falls had sucked his teeth. “That’ll mean an extra dozen men at least,” he said. “I’ll have to use the miners. What’ll I tell ‘em?”
The miners were all, except for Amos, just ordinary workers who didn’t know of the firm’s illegal activities but they could be fed a story and would provide extra eyes. If they were put in obvious places they would still scare the girl into hiding and neither would be any the wiser. Bargheese outlined the lies to be told. Falls set about organizing this.
By this time Bargheese was hot and tired but also scared, knowing that he might be facing a death sentence from the crime bosses if it all came unstuck. He counted the habitations on the map within a 10km circle. There were three places with more than one house: Bunyip Bend, Bunyip Bridge and the Army Camp. Apart from them there were only six farms or cattle stations. ‘There are a few of these windpumps that might need checking too,’ he noted.
The helicopter was called back and he had then flown a systematic search of the whole area. The only white things he had seen were some Brahman cattle and washing on the line at ‘Canning Park’ Station. As they flew low along Five Mile Creek the pilot had cut in.
“Boss, we’re gunna have to go back for fuel soon. You can have another ten minutes.”
Bargheese cursed. He decided to go back to the mine. He needed to find out exactly what was missing. He also needed to talk to the manager and the police and to get more informati
on on the girl.
“Take us back to the mine. Radio them to have a car meet me at the airstrip.”
Falls radioed in to say that the first miners had arrived and were in position and he was about to resume the search on foot.
It was only about 15km in a straight line to Brendan Creek and in 15 minutes Bargheese was in the air-conditioned office.
“Julie, get me a drink and some lunch,” he ordered the clerk, “Then have this map photocopied, fifty copies.” He turned to Watton. “Well. what’s missing?”
Watton looked very worried and followed his nominal junior into his office, closing the door behind him. “Bad! Couldn’t be worse!” The manager listed all the items he was sure were gone. Bargheese groaned. It was a disaster alright! “And my notebook. The brown leather one! That is the worst of all!” Bargheese snarled, slamming his fist on the manager’s desk just as the girl knocked with the refreshments.
“Bring it in!” he barked rudely. The girl was so nervous she almost dropped the tray. She looked at the pale-faced manager for guidance.
Watton shook his head. “Yes, yes, put it there and leave us Julie,” he said. The girl did as she was told and fled. Bargheese drank thirstily and realized he was in a cold sweat. ‘Both my passports gone!’ he thought, a feeling of dread clutching at his throat. ‘I will have trouble skipping the country except by flying out in one of our own planes without one. And that will be only the start of my troubles.’ Then the thought crossed his mind that a number of the others must also be making mental plans to escape if things got worse. ‘I will have to keep a tight control on them,’ he thought grimly.
The real problem was money. ‘I will need that to buy false papers and a new identity in some other country,’ he told himself. ‘And the brown leather notebook is the key.’ The notebook contained the numbers of his bank accounts both in Australia and overseas. If the authorities got the book they could freeze those accounts. ‘Even Switzerland has been tightening up on its laws about that,’ he pondered. ‘Perhaps the account in Taiwan might be safe?’
But the real fly in the ointment was that the notebook also contained names, addresses and account numbers of over a dozen very important men, real ‘Mister Bigs’ of the underworld. They would not forgive or forget. Bargheese knew there would be ‘contracts’ out on him if they suffered. ‘I will have to live like a hunted rat!’ he thought gloomily. The chill of death crept over him and he put the cup down to hide the fact that his hands had begun to shake.
Watton threw in another bombshell. “I’ve been on the phone to Mr Smith in Sydney.”
An icy silence settled in the room. ‘You rat!’ Bargheese thought.
Watton went on: “They are most concerned that our enquiries be speedily concluded.”
The threat hung in the air. Neither spoke for a full minute. Bargheese knew he must make every effort or start running now. But run to where?
“We are in this together Watton. You left the safe open. Now, have you contacted ‘Fossicker’s Reward’?”
“Yes. Four men are coming and their Cessna. Hooper is the pilot. One is driving another vehicle. We’ll need it. The plane is due within the hour. I’ll have them sent straight on to join Falls.”
The two men then discussed how to keep the police in the search but ignorant of the truth. They also determined to hire some local men, the pig-hunting types who lived hard on the fringe of the law.
Bargheese agreed, then said: “I need to know more about this girl. You come with me to the Police Station. Then you and a policeman can go and visit Schein’s wife and inform her she is a widow. Be gentle, sympathetic. Lead the conversation to find out details about the girl. Come on.”
Bargheese grabbed some sandwiches as they went out. The manager’s car was the last radio car left in the camp. At the door Watton called back: “Stay by the phone and radio Julie, until we send someone to take over."
Forty minutes later they were seated in an office in the Police Station with the Inspector of the Police District. A Detective Sergeant and another plain clothes policeman sat in as well. The inspector was quite blunt. “Gentlemen I can believe that this briefcase is of considerable commercial value but it is a relatively minor crime. My main concern is the girl’s safety. You have all of my uniformed branch, plus the constable at Mingela, tied up on this search. I can only keep this up for a few more hours. I need officers here in town.”
Bargheese leaned forward. “Do you have any detailed information on this girl?” he asked.
“Not yet. We’ve phoned Cairns but the girl’s parents are in Brisbane on business. We’ve got her handbag from the car but that’s not much help. Just full of the usual junk you would expect a teenage girl to carry. We couldn’t find any other luggage.”
Bargheese kicked himself. He didn’t particularly like women and had not thought about a handbag. He replied. “We have her suitcase. We picked it up in case the briefcase was in it. It is in one of our cars. I’ll have it sent in.” He paused, then asked, “Is Mr Schein definitely dead?” He raised an eyebrow. The inspector nodded.
“Then the widow should be informed, if she has not already been?” Bargheese hinted.
“No, she hasn’t. The body has only just reached the morgue and the doctor has only just submitted his preliminary report. He thinks a possible heart attack but we will wait for a pathologist from Townsville to do a proper autopsy. Sgt Waverly here was just about to go to Mrs Schein’s.”
Watton took his cue. “Perhaps I, as Mine Manager, should be the one to break this sad news to her?”
This was readily agreed to. The Inspector sat deep in thought for a moment. “It’s got me stumped what Schein was up to and why the girl was with him. She had just arrived on the bus from Townsville to spend the school holidays here yet he picks her up and was driving back to Townsville?” He shook his head. “Anyway my real worry is her safety. If she’s out in the open and we have a real cold night with frost, like we did last week, she could be in trouble.”
Bargheese got a shock. Night! He had assumed they would quickly find her once the area was sealed off. It would be a whole new problem when darkness fell. A glance at his watch showed that was only a few hours off.
After the meeting he took the manager’s car, leaving Watton with the detective sergeant and drove as quickly as he could to Bunyip Bend. Once there he spoke to the police roadblock while waiting for the three men from ‘Fossicker’s’ to arrive. When they did he briefed them, left one with the police and sent the other two in their vehicle to the south bank of the Bunyip near the north end of the Anabranches to start an outer cordon.
Bargheese then drove on across the Bunyip. As he drove past Bare Ridge he looked up the little valley, then up the wooded spur where he had last seen the girl. ‘Where has she gone? Where is she hiding?’ he fretted.
At the turn off to the army stores depot he met Falls and two of his men. Falls reported: “No luck Mr Bargheese. I’ve just swept the area with five men and those cadets have been up and down those gullies all afternoon. She must be hiding in all that scrub on one of the river banks.”
Bargheese lit a cigarette and eyed Falls with distaste. He thought Falls was just a crude bully and knew that Falls despised him because his skin was almost black. Masking his contempt and dislike the Indian checked where Falls had placed all his men and vehicles. They discussed their plans for the night.
Falls gestured up the slope to the north. “What about those cadets up there?” he asked.
“They’ve been very useful so far. We can continue to make use of them,” Bargheese replied.
“Well, what’s worrying me is if this girl steals food off ‘em, or blankets.”
“Or clothing.” Bargheese had a sudden mental picture of the girl hiding her white blouse under one of those camouflage jackets. “Martinez must stay with them and we must warn them to be on their guard. Come on. Let’s go and talk to whoever is in charge in this army base.”
They drove into the army depo
t and were directed from the guardhouse at the gate to the far end of the camp. The first people they saw were about a hundred cadets lined up in three ranks with cups and plates in their hands and, being a ‘mess-parade’, without hats. Out in front of the company stood a teenage girl whose ginger hair seemed to match the russet glow of the sunset.
The ginger haired girl directed them to where four Officers sat under an awning. A cheerful, tubby captain shook his hand.
“I’m Captain Conkey, OC of this lot. This is the 2ic, Lt MacLaren, the QM, Lt Hamilton and the Admin Officer, Lt Standish.” The last mentioned was a lady teacher.
The ginger-haired girl’s voice cut across their conversation as she gave orders to set the parade in motion.
“Who’s that girl?” Falls asked.
“That’s Barbara. She’s the Company Sergeant Major,” Capt Conkey replied.
Bargheese explained what he wanted and was relieved to find the captain only too happy to help. Capt Conkey readily agreed to organize a search of all the buildings in and around the camp the following morning. He invited Bargheese, Falls, Watton and Berzinski, the driver of Falls’ vehicle, to have dinner while they discussed it.
By then the last cadets were filing into the mess hall and the sergeants and CUOs joined the line, the Officers eating last. As they stood talking outside, Berzinski admired the female CSM . He nudged Falls. “Good looker that one,” he commented.
“Nice bit of bodywork, even in that baggy camouflage uniform,” Falls agreed.
“Nice long legs,” Berzinski observed.
A fat Cadet Staff Sergeant next in line turned and grinned. “You’d never run fast enough to catch her, and you’d regret it if you did.”
The CSM became aware of their leering and curled her lip in disdain, her green eyes flashing.
After the meal it was agreed to leave Watkins with the manager’s car at the camp HQ. Bargheese went with Falls and Berzinski in their vehicle. They followed the captain, his 2ic and the girl CSM in an army Land Rover over to 4 Platoon on Sandy Ridge.
The Cadet Under-Officer Page 17
