by Jen Cole
“No rush. Danny will stick to me like glue until I’ve asked it.”
“We won’t have room in the car for that tree-thing!”
“He’s a hologram remember. He takes up no room at all.”
“Oh, yeah.” Richard felt chagrined, but Jo smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry, I took a while to get used to it.”
As the two of them set up their laptops on the breakfast table, Fitani began an annoying refrain. “I haven’t got all day you know. Some of us have better things to do than watch people type their memoirs. You’re boring the viewers. They want to know what your final question is.”
Richard followed Jo’s lead in ignoring Fitani, but found his whining litany a distraction. He decided to tell BEAM he’d located Jo and that she had allowed him to go through her father’s correspondence, where he’d found a possible link to his murder through Simon Brooks and… Fitani’s drone was destroying his concentration.
“Jo, what was Blatman’s first name?”
“Morris.” Her head shot up. “I know what my last question is. Danny, where does the Morris Blatman who sabotaged my father’s tree shaker, currently live?”
“Jo!” Richard couldn’t hide his dismay. “Your life’s at stake. You should have used that last question to help you avoid the Hunter.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Fitani. “She does love to waste her questions. But since she’s asked, I must reply.”
Danny provided a Melbourne address, which Richard added to his report.
“Blatman’s a professional hit man,” Jo told Richard earnestly. “We don’t even know if that’s his real name or an alias he used when Brooks hired him. BEAM would never find him without more information. Now they’ve got his address. You should tell them to go straight there. Who knows how long he’ll stay put.”
“Don’t worry Jo. We’ll get surveillance on him immediately. We’ll also investigate Brooks’ background to see if we can find a motive for murder.”
“Thank you.” She scanned the room and grinned. “Fitani’s gone – and I didn’t even notice his departure. It feels good.”
She checked her watch. “Eight minutes before we need to leave. I’ve found Huggard Drive. It’s a dead-end street north of Mooroopna. I’ve got the route on my laptop, and now I need to get my wig.”
Richard nodded, finishing off his report. To his top-priority posting regarding Brooks and Blatman he added a side request that an attempt be made to discover whether Eagle Investigations and SIS were currently hunting Kylie Marshall. He knew this would raise a few eyebrows coming on the heels of his having sent in her photo and fingerprints, and that he’d soon have questions to answer, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He ran the report through an encryption program and was emailing it as Jo emerged from the bathroom. She’d combed out the long wig, and the sight of her even in track pants and hoodie, took his breath away.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Ready.”
Jo grabbed her computer and they headed for the door. Again she curled herself on the backseat, calling out directions in the glow of her laptop. They reached Huggard Drive a little under twenty minutes later and as Richard drove down it, he noted the trees and open grassland on his right. On the left side, warehouses and some light industry ensured that this road in the middle of nowhere had electricity poles and street lighting. He swept around the turning circle at its end and drove back a short way before pulling over.
The two stepped out and Richard realized this cul de sac was a good spot – just seconds from the fast and straight Echuca-Mooroopna Road, which though it had minimal traffic at this time of night, was only five minutes from the busy Midland Highway.
A sudden sharp beeping made him jump. Jo turned off her alarm and handed him the laptop. “I’ll jog down to the end for the broadcast. If the Hunter is in a chopper, he could be onto us quickly, so we’ll need to move fast afterwards.”
“He’ll have agents stationed along the main roads,” Richard reminded her. “Perhaps you should ride in the boot for this trip, in case I’m stopped.”
He watched as Jo cast a dubious eye over the boot. Though obviously not keen on the idea, she nodded before jogging off towards the end of the road.
…
Jo stood under a streetlight with a cyclone wire fence at her back, wondering if she’d been right about the Hunter using a helicopter. If so would she be able to hear it from here? They’d taken twenty minutes to get to Mooroopna by car on roads that looped around a forest reserve, but as the crow flew, Shep was probably only five or six kilometers from here. How far did sound carry?
The numbers on her watch changed to 8.00 p.m. and it took a huge effort to remain where she was, straining her ears as she set the next alarm for two minutes to eleven. Thirty seconds later, straining was no longer required. She could definitely hear a faint throbbing sound.
As she raced back, Jo found herself thinking her watch must be pretty close to spot-on correct and that she wouldn’t need to wait as long as two minutes after the hour in future.
Richard was standing by the open boot when she reached the car. He helped her in and clicked the lid shut. Jo closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was simply lying on the back seat as usual, but cushioning was noticeably absent. As they sped along, she felt every bump, at times even having to press hands and feet against the molding to stop from being thrown about. She hadn’t remembered this many turns on the way. Just as she’d decided that battling the movement at least helped to keep her mind off being closed in, all motion ceased. The engine died, replaced by the raucous clamor of a helicopter. Something was terribly wrong.
A loud screeching of tires sent a shiver down her spine. It was followed by the rocking whump of the car door slamming and Jo tensed, ready to leap out when Richard released her, but the lid remained closed. Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t abandon her? Jo lay staring into the dark, trying to convince herself that the sensation of increasing suffocation was all in her mind.
~~~~
CHAPTER 32
Richard had also heard the faint chopping sound as Jo came running to the car. He allowed himself no more than a twinge of anxiety about shutting her into the boot, before jumping behind the wheel and gunning the engine. When he turned left into Echuca-Mooroopna Road and found it empty, his foot snapped to the floor. If he wasn’t off this road when the helicopter arrived… well, a single set of headlights travelling from the scene would be all too obvious from above.
Quickly paddocks gave way to houses and alongside the housing, a service lane appeared, separated from the main road by a wide strip of mature eucalyptus trees. Richard veered into the service lane, glad of the trees’ spreading shelter, and slowed, looking for McFarlane Road. He’d studied the map while Jo had been waiting for the broadcast, and decided that rather than risk entering the Midland Highway from the Echuca-Mooroopna Road – a likely intersection for agents, he would wind through the suburban streets of Mooroopna and join the highway further down.
He could now hear the helicopter clearly and on impulse stopped the car to look back. Over the area of Huggard Drive, a searchlight was circling. Richard heaved a sigh, thankful he’d made it off the main road before being spotted, and felt another surge of relief as McFarlane Road came up on his left. Turning into it, he noticed a car travelling fast on the main road towards the searchlight and wondered if it contained agents hurrying to rendezvous with their boss.
On McFarlane, anxious to bury himself among the streets, Richard looked for a right turn and spied McKean Street. A pair of headlights swung into McFarlane a hundred meters behind him and bore down fast. Adrenaline kicked his foot to the floor and he shrieked into McKean, roaring down it for an interminable distance as he searched for a turnoff. Before he found one, the headlights turned into McKean and accelerated towards him. A road came up on his left and Richard swung in. It was a short street ending in a T-intersection and as he turned right at the T, the headlights swept into t
he street he’d just left.
Richard floored the accelerator and suddenly realized he couldn’t hear his own engine over the din of the approaching helicopter. His heart sank. He couldn’t outrun both. He swerved into a street on the right and was considering stopping and trying to bluff his way out of it when he spotted an open driveway with an empty carport. Using the emergency brake, he spun the car into a sharp turn, ending under the carport. Then he killed lights and engine, and ducked down. Seconds later a screech announced the arrival of the following vehicle, and he let it roar down the street before leaping out, slamming the door and rolling underneath his car. He lay panting as though he’d run this race on his own feet and wondered how far his pursuer had gone. The racket from the helicopter made it impossible to tell, but he knew the car would return as soon as the agents realized he wasn’t ahead of them. Richard worried for Jo, lying in the boot, but there was no way to reassure her.
…
So far, Jo had kept a tight rein on her fears, but now it was stretching thin. She’d never been claustrophobic, but then she’d never been locked in a car boot before. The rational part of her mind told her that if Richard had left her there, it was because that was the safest option, and when the danger had passed he’d come back for her. But from the depths of her psyche a little bubble of primitive terror began rising and the more Jo tried to suppress it, the more persistently it pushed upwards.
She tried stern reasoning. You’ve been in the boot less than ten minutes, Jo. Think of Fitani’s people locked in their tubes for twelve hours. They love it!
“On their soft mats with fresh breezes wafting around them,” said another part of her mind. “Modern cars have thick seals. How much fresh air do you think you’re getting in this boot?”
She sucked in a sobbing gasp. Was the air beginning to feel thick? Stop it, Jo, she thought. The more you panic, the more oxygen you use. Relax and slow down your breathing. But something was digging into her hip, making it hard to relax. She squirmed and her fingers found the outline of a rounded corner, which moved when pushed. The laptop! Richard must have dropped it into the boot. With more rolling and squirming, she managed to push it out and lift it onto her chest. The Internet dongle was still in its side and the realization that she had a connection with the outside world brought back her sanity. Jo closed her eyes, hugging the laptop like a teddy bear and feeling tears of relief roll down her face.
…
On his stomach, Richard lifted his head to scan what he could of the world from under the car. The searchlight, shining from the helicopter above, lit up the pavement like day and as he watched, a set of car wheels came to a halt by the curb. He saw the bottom section of the door open and trousered legs emerge, standing until they were joined by a second set. Both sets began walking up the driveway towards him.
They were shouting to each other over the noise of the helicopter and when their shoes stopped half a meter from his face, Richard heard,
“… boss says no ones’… bushes… all clear around the area.”
“… car hood… warm. White Commodore… boyfriend for sure. Must be inside… house.”
“Tell the chopper… going in.”
As Richard lay waiting for the agents to move, he grimly tallied his mistakes.
One – not changing the rental car. On the porch this morning the agents had been too far away to see his number plate, but they’d have noted his car’s make and color, and catching him in the house a second time, would certainly have passed it on. Why hadn’t he gone straight to the Shepparton rental outlet after dropping Jo at the motel, and changed the car? Because, he remembered, Jo had seemed poised to take off the minute his back was turned.
With everything going on, that mistake was perhaps forgivable. Not so, mistake number two – leaving his headlights on as he drove down the service lane. Could he have called any louder to the agents travelling towards Huggard Drive? Of course they’d aborted their trip to check him out.
Jo had managed to keep safe the whole the time she’d been alone, and the moment she’d put her trust in him, he’d handed her to the Hunter on a plate. Well, not quite yet, and not if he could help it.
Squirming, Richard withdrew the knife he’d strapped around his shin before heading out to break into Jo’s house. The helicopter was moving away and as its noise lessened, the agents’ voices became more audible.
“… take the back, I’ll take the front.”
“…boss going?”
“… wider perimeter. He’ll land if we catch her.”
The feet departed. Richard squirmed to the edge and sticking his head out, saw a shape at the front door and heard a bell chime. The darkness, which had fallen as the helicopter moved away, was broken by a flood of porch light. Behind the screen door a woman’s voice rose querulously. The agent held up an open wallet. His voice was firm. Protests continued from the other side, but eventually the man prevailed and the door was opened.
As soon as he disappeared into the house, Richard rolled out from under the car and sprinted down the driveway to the vehicle parked at the curb. Crouching by the back wheel, he thrust his knife viciously into the sidewall, and then moved forward, doing the same to the front. They wouldn’t go far on two flat tires.
Now he ran back to his own car, grateful the helicopter, even somewhat removed, was still making enough racket to mask the noise of his engine starting. Leaving his lights off, he reversed into the street, and accelerated to the end, turning south, away from the circling spotlight. He figured he had only minutes before the men in the house, or new agents arriving, discovered the white Commodore was missing and informed the Hunter.
I can’t drive to Shepparton, he thought. As soon as the Hunter learns I’ve gone, he’ll sweep the Midland Highway with his helicopter, and send agents to cover the side roads. This car’s a beacon. I have to get it out of sight.
Vaguely he recalled passing some kind of parkland near the end of the chase, and turned left at the next crossroad. Bingo – trees loomed at the bottom of the street. On reaching them, he discovered the ‘parkland’ was in fact a golf course behind a high chainmesh fence. A road ran alongside the fence and he turned onto it, hoping to find an opening. Eventually the road became a lane, running between the golf course and a construction site in which old buildings were being converted to something modern.
Richard entered the lane, but halfway down found it closed off by the building project. That’s what happened when you drove without lights – such things weren’t obvious until you got close. Quickly he flicked the headlights to double-check there was no way forward, and in doing so, glimpsed something from the corner of his eye. Another flick confirmed it - an open gate in the golf course fence gave access to a dirt maintenance track. Richard turned onto the track, driving slowly. It wound through a perimeter planted with native trees and he saw with joy that one of them was a large spreading grevillea bush. He spun the wheel, and leaving the track, drove under the heavy weeping branches. Limbs and twigs scraped across the roof and windows as he rolled close to the trunk.
…
When Jo heard the helicopter’s roar fade, and felt the car start up and begin moving, she breathed more easily. Richard had returned and they were on their way – far more sedately this time, which she took as a good sign until a nasty thought occurred. What if the driver wasn’t Richard? What if an agent was delivering her to the Hunter? No, she corrected herself. An agent would have opened the boot to confirm she was there. It had to be Richard driving, which meant she’d soon be out of this freezing, suffocating metal box and back in the warmth and safety of the motel room. Jo was just tasting the thought when the car rocked with a wild scraping and scratching on all sides. She braced herself, thinking they’d gone over an embankment, and then everything was still.
As she lay wide-eyed, the release catch popped and she pushed cautiously against the lid. Something was obstructing it and Jo was just beginning to tentatively apply some gentle force when more loud
scratching shocked her into heaving up against the boot lid. It opened halfway and something swept inward, hitting her in the face. She screamed and heard Richard’s voice amid frantic rustling.
“It’s okay! We’re in a bush. I’m trying to get to you.”
Jo reached out a shaky hand and confirmed her assailant was indeed a branch of spiky leaves. She sighed weakly.
“Are you alright?” A dark shape was holding up the boot lid with one hand and trying to pull the branch clear with the other.
“Richard? Yes, I’m okay.”
As he held the branch back, she struggled onto her belly and dragged herself forward, slithering over the lip and ending in a heap on the soft earth at his feet.
“Jo!” He dropped to a crouch and reached for her. She clung to him in the dark, choking back a sob, and he began to stroke her hair, but gave an exclamation when the wig came off. They both laughed and Jo’s fingers found his and gently extracted the wig.
She tucked it through her money belt. “What happened? Did we go off the road?”
“I had to drive under a bush. They’re looking for this car.”
“So we’re on foot?”
“Afraid so.”
Jo shivered. She could still hear the helicopter.
“Do you know where we are?”
“I have a general idea, but I’d like to confirm it with the map.”
“The laptop’s in the boot,” she said dryly. “Your turn to dive in.”
Richard reached in and felt around until his hand brushed the computer. He pulled it out, careful not to dislodge the broadband dongle, and handed it to Jo. Then he stood and began a tussle with the tree branch in an effort to close the boot.
Jo crawled gingerly through the prickly leaves and stood up with relief when she finally broke through. It was pitch dark and she opened the laptop for some light. Richard joined her and studied the cached map on the screen. After scrolling and zooming, he pointed. “We’re here. See this unnamed track off Park Street going through the golf course?
