by Jen Cole
Jo turned to Adam and Vicky before climbing the wing.
“Thanks so much for this. I really appreciate it.”
“Well, we’re happy to have the contribution towards our costs, so everyone wins,” said Vicky.
Jeff gave a wave. “I’d better be getting back to the club before Dylan blows a fuse. I’m supposed to be relieving him at the desk.”
Jo climbed into the back and Vicky and Adam took the front seats. Vicky started the engine and taxied out towards the runway, speaking into a two-way radio all the while. Adam twisted around.
“Have you flown in a small plane before?” he called over the engine noise.
“Yes, but I’d forgotten just how small they are,” said Jo, fastening her seatbelt.
“Not really designed for people my height,” he agreed.
The plane stopped short of the runway and Vicky turned her head.
“I’ve just called the tower for clearance to take off,” she said loudly. “We should be away in a minute or two.”
Jo nodded and settled back checking her watch while a garbled voice through the radio directed Vicky to the appropriate runway. It was 12.45 p.m. A forty-five minute flight meant they’d arrive in Shepparton at 1.30. From the airport the farm was fifteen-minutes by car – too far to cycle to in time, but taxis were safe while the Hunter had no idea she was in Shep. That left barely fifteen minutes to get into her house, grab Dad’s paperwork and get out. Cutting it fine, but not impossible. The question was where would she go after that? Jo sighed. She didn’t want to put any of her Shep friends at risk, but she needed a safe place to hole up and go through the papers.
Distracted by these thoughts, she suddenly became aware they were accelerating down the runway with a great deal of noise and shuddering. Just when it seemed the tarmac was ending, the nose lifted and they soared into the blue sky of the cloudless winter day. Below them houses and roads followed the curve of the bay and white sails dotted the wrinkled sea. Sunlight streamed into the little plane, filling it with bright warmth. Adam looked around to check on her and she gave him a thumbs-up. It was too noisy for conversation and for the moment Jo was content to watch the main highway as they followed it from above, barely aware of her drooping eyelids.
~~~~
CHAPTER 27
At the red light, Richard stretched and rotated his neck. The drive to Shepparton had been uneventful, but after two and a half hours, he was ready for a coffee. He’d check into his motel before going on to the Warrington Farm.
Bev was at the reception desk and her face lit up when she saw him in the doorway. “Richard, it’s been a while. How many nights shall I put you down for?”
The ‘Welcome Inn’ was a small family-owned motel on the outskirts of Shepparton. Bev and her husband had ties with the farming community and operated their business with the reluctant assistance of their two sons, who kept threatening to depart, but who so far had been unable to find anything better.
“Just doing a spare parts round this time, Bev. I’ll probably only be here a day or two, so put me down for one night and I’ll let you know if I need to extend.”
Richard made a point of staying at the Welcome Inn whenever he came to Shepparton. It lent legitimacy to his farming machinery salesman persona and kept him up with the local news.
“Any exciting events in my absence?”
Bev tilted her head, considering. “Well, Popsie’s just had a litter of four kittens, which are so cute. It’ll be heart wrenching when the time comes to give them away. We might keep one to help Popsie with the mousing. Not that we have a mouse problem,” she hastened to add. “But with this drought on, the field mice may well start heading into town.”
Richard signed the register and Bev handed back his company credit card.
“Have you heard how the new bloke’s getting on at the Davies’ place?” he asked.
“Jack Murray? Seems to be doing okay. Are you looking to sell him some equipment?”
Richard winked. “Always on the lookout for new customers, Bev.”
Her smile faded. “Well, you may have a new customer up at the Warrington farm soon. I imagine Jo will be selling.”
“What do you mean Jo? Has something happened to Bill?”
“Oh, you hadn’t heard? There was a terrible accident, nearly a month ago now. Bill was killed.”
“Killed! What happened?”
“He was crushed under some machinery. They had a coroner’s inquest and all.”
“My God, Bev, I had no idea. I’ve been interstate for the last month.”
“Such an awful thing. From what I gather, a part of his tree shaker worked loose and came down on him while he was standing under it… you didn’t sell that to him did you?”
Richard answered vaguely, still stunned by the news. “No, the big tree shakers come from overseas. I can hardly believe this has happened. I must go and give my condolences to Jo.”
“I don’t think Jo’s around at the moment. Stuart drove past the place yesterday and said it seemed to be all locked up.”
Richard fumbled the room key into his pocket. How could this have happened? Bill Warrington was well aware of the danger of displaying knowledge about the H Group, and would surely never have done so, but this unlikely death couldn’t have been an accident.
Numbly he returned to his car and sat for a moment in a state of shock. I have to go out to the farm, he thought, unwilling to communicate the news to his superiors just yet. Maybe there’ll be a clue, or at least I can speak to Jo about it. He started the engine.
The first thing he noticed was the padlock on the gate. Never in all Richard’s visits to the Warrington’s had the front gates been closed, let alone padlocked. He pulled off a short way down the road and walked back.
The farmhouse was typical of its kind, set in a field of clumpy grass and straggly gum trees. Nearby, the huge packing and cold-storage shed was shut up tightly with some empty crates stacked in front. Beside it, the doors of a smaller toolshed were also closed, and the surrounding fields, filled with rows of stark bare-limbed apple trees, added to the sense of desolation.
A cold wind whistled around Richard’s head as he grabbed the top bar, vaulted the gate and jogged up the track to the farmhouse. Silence greeted his knocking, and a walk around the house confirmed that all blinds were down and doors were locked. Richard returned to the front verandah and sat in an old cane chair pondering his next move.
He needed to locate Jo. She might have gone to stay with relatives or could be in Melbourne dealing with business relating to the will. Either way, BEAM should be able to track her down. It was vital to find out how much she knew. If the H Group was involved in her father’s death, Jo could also be in danger. Guilt and fear for Jo swept over him. Could this be his fault? Had he slipped up somewhere?
A heavy hand fell on Richard’s shoulder, electrifying him. He twisted and tried to rise but the hand was an extension of a thick meaty arm, which in turn was attached to a huge body that was leaning, easily exerting enough pressure to keep him in place.
“What the hell!” he yelled, as a second giant moved into view. There were no other cars parked out the front, so these goons must have come from around the back, and big as they were, they’d done it without a sound.
“This is private property,” growled the thug holding him down.
“It’s the Warrington property,” said Richard angrily. “I’ve come to pay my condolences to Jo Warrington on the death of her father. Please remove your hand!”
The hand lifted and as Richard stood, the two men positioned themselves on either side of him.
“Anyone can see no one’s home,” stated the second thug menacingly. “You would have had to climb that gate to get in.”
Richard was recovering from his initial shock. “And who are you?” he demanded.
“Security.”
“Well if Jo’s employed security, she must plan to be away for a while. What’s the name of your company? I need t
o contact them about getting in touch with her.”
“It’s not our job to put you in touch with anyone. Leave now or we’ll assist you on your way.”
The second made a menacing move and Richard locked eyes with him for a second. “Thanks for your help.”
He walked down the verandah steps and out towards the gate, feeling their stony gazes drilling between his shoulder blades all the way. As he leapt the gate and strode towards the car, thumbing the lock release on his key, Richard could still feel them watching. He climbed in and driving off, glanced back. Their Easter Island stance on the porch remained unchanged.
It was eleven forty. He’d return to the motel and send in his report, which would include a request that BEAM track Jo down and investigate the unlikely “home security” she’d supposedly set up. Having done that, he’d grab some lunch and head back to the farm, less obviously this time, to see if he could find just what it was out there that required the protection of two hefty guards.
~~~~
CHAPTER 28
Bladder pressure finally woke Jo. Damn, she thought, realizing her last toilet stop had been at the cafe that morning. From her window she could see the main highway below, running through farmlands. Adam and Vicky had their heads together in conversation, which failed to carry back over the engine noise. A check of her watch sat Jo up in fright, fully awake. 1.40 p.m. They should have landed at Shepparton ten minutes ago.
Feeling sick, she leaned forward and tapped Adam on the shoulder. Had Vicky forgotten about the Shepparton stop? Were they halfway to Echuca?
Adam turned with a smile. “Awake at last. We’re running a bit late. Soon after we left Moorabbin, a northerly sprang up. We’ve been flying into it the whole time and it’s slowed us down. We’ve only just reached Shepparton.”
Sure enough, two runways came into view and Vicky began a static-masked conversation over the radio. Jo wanly returned Adam’s smile, knowing that the process of landing, finding a phone and waiting for a taxi, would use up too much time. Her plan, to get into her house grab her father’s papers, and be out before two was no longer viable. All she could do now was decide where to be for her 2.00 p.m. posting. As the plane circled to position itself above the runway, Jo considered her options.
One: Get close to the house and race in straight after the posting. Downside – if the Hunter had men nearby, they could intercept her before she even got to the door.
Two: Distance herself from the house, hoping to draw any agents away from it and then somehow work her way back. Downside – if the Hunter had enough people in Shepparton he could leave some to guard the house while sending others to surround her coordinates. She shook her head. That was crazy. No way would the Hunter have more than one or two agents in Shepparton right now. He had every reason to believe she was currently in the Frankston area. That’s where his people would be. If he were to suddenly receive her coordinates in Shepparton, he’d contact the agents staking out her house and tell them to head for her location, confident that if she somehow made it home, the alarm systems he’d set up would warn him.
So she had to get close, but not too close – far enough to lure any agents away from the house, but near enough to get in before they returned.
Jo twisted uncomfortably, her ever-tightening bladder finally overriding all other thoughts.
Vicky began her descent, and Jo quickly transferred three notes from her money belt to her jacket pocket. As the wheels touched the tarmac, she clenched sphincter and teeth against a series of bumps, only letting out her breath when they turned off the runway and taxied smoothly towards the hangars. In an open area, Vicky turned the plane around and shut off the engine, bringing sudden quiet. She turned to Jo.
“Well, here we are, later than planned, but still a lot faster than the train. We’ll all need to get out so Adam can unstrap your things.”
Vicky unbuckled her belt and pushing open the door, climbed onto the wing. She jumped down and Jo followed awkwardly. Adam climbed back to retrieve her luggage.
“Will you be staying for a while?” Jo asked Vicky as they waited.
“No, this stop wasn’t on my flight plan and the northerly slowed us up. It’s finally turned west, so we’ll make better progress for the rest of the trip, but I’m not liking the look of those clouds.”
She pointed to a distant glowering bank. “The forecast predicted storms for late this afternoon, but it looks like they might arrive early and I want to get to Echuca before they do.”
Adam handed the pannier pack down to Jo and she opened one of the bags and retrieved her wallet. From it she took a fifty-dollar note and added the three hundreds from her pocket. She passed them to Vicky.
“Thanks again for the lift.”
Vicky put the money into her own pocket and grinned. “No worries, hope the reunion’s worth it.”
Jo almost said, “Reunion?” but was saved from this gaffe by Adam calling for help to guide the bike case down.
“All set?” Adam jumped down to join them.
“Yes, and thanks for your help with the luggage. Have a great time in Echuca.”
“That’s highly likely now we’re flush with funds,” said Vicky.
Jo shouldered her pack and gave a parting wave. She wheeled her bike bag towards the glass doors of a building set a little back from the runway. It displayed the name of a flying club and with her bladder dictating her actions, she stepped inside, hoping to find the toilets before someone questioned her. Her luck held. The place was empty and spotting the ladies room, Jo pushed in, leaving her bike bag in the little wash area while she entered a cubicle.
Back at the washbasin Jo again checked her watch, 1.44 p.m. and decided now would be a good time to get into her “photography gear’. She pulled the track pants on over her leggings and removing the cycling jacket, donned the hoodie. Then she put the jacket back on and zipped it.
As she left the restroom, Jo braced for a challenge, but the place was still empty and she slipped quietly out of the door. At the side of the building she set up her bike and fastened the pannier to the rack. With more than ten minutes before the Hunter received her coordinates, she’d be able to get a good way to her house.
An exit gate led to the Goulburn Valley Highway and Jo turned left towards River Road, pedaling hard. The strong westerly was fast bringing rain clouds but Jo was glad of its direction. On River Road, it was at her back, pushing her along. The area she was cycling through, south of the main Shepparton township was still mainly bushland and farms, and nothing slowed her progress. When her watch alarm went off at three minutes to two, Jo estimated she was five kilometers from home by the main roads, but a cross-country shortcut she knew of would cut the trip to little more than a kilometer.
She stopped and wheeled her bike into the shallow depression by the side of the road. Removing the cycling jacket, helmet, black wig and glasses, she tucked them under the bike. In a pannier bag, Jo found the blonde wig and fitted it on as she jogged down the road to a large gum tree. She sat beneath it and checked her watch. 1.59 p.m.
Jo reset the alarm for three minutes to five and waited, her thoughts racing. Would an agent be camped in her house? Probably not, she decided. Her neighbors would ask questions if they noticed a stranger living at her place. More likely the Hunter had agents stationed nearby, ready to respond to alarms set up around the house. Hopefully, when he received her coordinates at this location, he’d send those agents out along this road, which would give her the opportunity to sneak into the house, undetectable to any alarms, if Fitani had done his bit.
It seemed like a plan, and at two minutes past two, Jo leapt up and tore back. She stripped off the track pants and wig and shoved them into a pannier bag, then re-donned the items she’d left under the bike. Now she cycled flat-out until the dirt sidetrack she’d been looking for appeared on her right. As she turned onto it Jo felt a surge of optimism. This track, used only by local kids and a few farmers, not only cut nearly four kilometers from her tri
p, but kept her off the main roads, away from any agents.
The afternoon had darkened and the strong west wind now hit her from the side. It cut through her clothing as she hunched over the handlebars. Rain would be coming sooner rather than later, but Jo realized that with luck she’d be sheltered from it, snug in her own house. She put on a burst of speed, bumping over the stony track. A couple of barking farm dogs ran out, but after following for a short distance, returned to their properties, and in good time she made it to the outermost orchard.
Laying down the bike, she wiggled it under the barbed wire fence, and then, pushing down on the lower strand, climbed gingerly through herself. As she cycled between rows of trees, Jo was thankful winter meant not having to dodge fallen apples. She worked her way through the orchards, negotiating two more fences before coming within sight of the farmhouse.
From the side, the place looked peaceful. Jo delved into a pannier bag and pulled out her wallet. The key was in an inner pouch. Slipping it into her jacket pocket, she considered leaving the bike among the trees, but decided against it. The Hunter’s agents might well sweep the surrounding orchards. Safer to keep the bicycle with her and better for fast getaways. Jo pushed it under the last fence, scrambled through herself and then lay flat, watching for movement from the house or surrounds.
The only sound was the whistling wind. She drew a deep breath and pedaled across the lumpy field. As she circled to the front, Jo was shocked to see the closed, padlocked gate. Did that mean the Hunter had left a man inside after all? Her heart was racing as she lifted the bike up the two porch steps and put her ear to the door. Dead silence. She had to risk going in. Staying in full view a second longer was madness. She turned the key, wheeled her bike through and closed the door quietly behind her. Inside she stood and listened. The howling of the wind outside emphasized the silence within.
Jo let out her breath, aware of the gloom. She hadn’t pulled down all the blinds but someone had, and now she neither dared raise them nor turn on a light. She pushed the bicycle down the dim hallway and into the spare junk room, propping it against a wall. An old art easel nearby gave her an idea and Jo leant it against the front wheel before throwing a paint-spattered smock over the pannier. Did the bike look sufficiently part of the junk in this room? Yes. Now what about herself? If the Hunter or his agents decided to check the house, she needed a place to hide.
