by Jen Cole
Jo drew a breath. “That rectangle beside the golf course – it says Mooroopna Hospital. There must be cars in the parking area. Do you know how to hot-wire a car?”
Richard spoke regretfully. “Sorry to throw a dampener, but the label’s out of date. The hospital’s being converted to something else. Guess they figured they didn’t need one with Shepparton so close. And you can forget about hot-wiring a car, unless we find a model older than thirty years, which is how long they’ve been making them with steering locks.”
“Oh,” said Jo. “What do we do then?”
“Get out of here as quickly as possible. We’re a minute’s walk from the Midland Highway. Hitchhiking is fastest.”
“But won’t agents be stationed along the road?”
“I’m banking on the Hunter having called his agents over to the area where I last stopped. If he has, the road will be clear for a while, but we’ll need to hurry. As soon as he learns we’re no longer contained, they’ll be swarming back.”
Richard closed the laptop and tucked it under one arm. He reached for Jo’s hand with the other, and as quickly as the darkness allowed, led her back to the construction site. From there a walking path took them to the highway. He drew her to the edge of the road and she followed reluctantly, pulling her hood up.
“I hate being in this outfit but at least the hoodie will keep my short cut hidden.”
Richard’s strained smile failed to reassure her. “Don’t worry, we’ll soon be out of here.” He held out his thumb.
After three cars zoomed past, Jo stopped paying attention to the road and began looking for a hiding place to run to if the helicopter swooped in.
Suddenly Richard was tugging her hand. “Come on!”
An old green Ford Fairlane had pulled up ahead of them and was waiting, idling roughly. A young Sudanese couple occupied the front seats and in the back, two children around five and seven years of age grinned up at them as they opened the door.
“Move over kids,” ordered their father.
Richard nodded to him. “Thanks, we appreciate the lift.”
“Look!” The older girl was pointing. “A light from the sky. I want to see it!”
“We’ll sit in the middle,” Jo said quickly. “You can have the window seat.”
With a grin, the girl scrambled out and Jo and Richard slid into the middle of the back seat.
“Come on, Nansi.” An exasperated note tinged her mother’s voice. “We have to get home.”
The girl jumped in beside Jo and wound down the window to watch the approach of the helicopter’s searchlight. The car resumed its journey along the highway and Nansi cried out in pleasure as the searchlight moved across to them, enveloping the car and lighting up the surrounds for a while as they travelled. She leaned out of the open window and waved up to it.
Her father, muttering behind the wheel, was less impressed. “Why is that helicopter following us? I thought we’d left all that behind in Melbourne.”
At that moment, a white car travelling in the opposite direction whizzed past and the searchlight moved off them to follow it. Nansi twisted around, watching its path down the road through the back window, until they rounded a bend and it was no longer visible.
“It’s so nice of you to give us a lift.” Jo wanted to distract the father from speculating about whom the helicopter might have been searching for. “Our car broke down and we’ve been walking for ages. We thought we’d have to walk all the way back to Shepparton.”
“Do you not have a phone?” inquired the wife.
“We do,” Richard jumped in. “But our so-called friends were all too busy to come and pick us up. Wait until they get stuck one night. Then it won’t seem such a joke to them.”
“Poota!” The younger girl, sitting next to Richard, was pointing to the laptop.
“Yes, we didn’t want to leave our computer in the car. Would you like to have a look?”
“I want to see it,” demanded Nansi, leaning across Jo.
Richard flipped open the lid, and googled “kids games’. He randomly clicked one of the links that appeared, choosing a game called Treasure Hunt. As the girls watched avidly, he began steering the treasure hunter through a maze using the arrow keys.
“Go that way,” instructed Nansi. “I see a key under the bush!”
The younger child was content to let Nansi navigate, and soon all four were involved in the game. Nansi successfully steered Richard around a crocodile-infested swamp, up a vine to avoid the zombies and finally into an underground cave where they found the ruby, which was level one’s treasure.
Jo noticed they had crossed the river into Shepparton and were signaling to turn north on the Goulburn Valley Highway. Their motel was south and she glanced at Richard, but he shook his head. She assumed that like her, he’d observed the unusual number of cars parked beside the closed shops around this main intersection.
“Where would you like to get out?” asked their driver.
“A little further along if that’s okay.”
Richard gently resisted Nansi’s urgings to progress to level two, and closed the laptop. The car continued to Nixon Street and turned right.
“Anywhere along here would be great,” said Richard. They pulled over and Nansi leapt out. Jo followed and turned back to wave to the parents as Richard emerged. “Thanks again. You saved us a long walk.”
Nansi’s mother spoke to them over the back seat.
“You go home and rest now,” she said. “And maybe get yourselves some new friends.”
~~~~
CHAPTER 33
Jo looked at her watch. “It’s 9.15, we’d better get moving. I’d say we’re about three kilometers from the motel. At least it’s good to finally be back where I know the streets.”
She turned south and Richard fell in beside her. They were in Corio, a wide street with a center planting of tall trees. Light industrial buildings, closed for the night, lined both sides. As they walked, Richard filled Jo in on the car chase, and she pulled up to stare at him in horror.
“If you hadn’t spotted that empty carport…”
He spoke reassuringly. “But I did, and we live to fight another day.” He paused. “I do feel bad for the woman in the house though. The agents were convinced we were hiding there and no doubt scared her witless storming around trying to find us and probably accusing her of harboring fugitives.”
Jo grabbed his arm and spoke urgently. “Richard, that woman will survive. I wish I could be so confident about us. We have only an hour and a half until the next posting. Our transport is gone and the Hunter has us surrounded.”
“I may be able to do something about transport.” He pulled a phone from his pocket and tapped the screen before lifting it to his ear.
“Marilyn, hi... No I’m not back in Melbourne yet. I’m actually stuck in Shepparton without a car… Yes I know, long story, which I’ll tell you over a drink. Right now though I was wondering if there was anything you could arrange… actually I was thinking of tonight… yes I know what the time is… yes I know I’m in a country town, but you have such a talent for… Okay, I guess there are limits. Don’t suppose I could prevail on you to come up in your own car? ... It’s not that far. What if I met you part way? Nagambie’s less than an hour and a half from Melbourne at this time of night… It’s a nice place. I was there for BEAM once… I’m not joking, it has lakes – in fact I stayed at a place right on the lake… No, very reasonably priced, BEAM got its money’s worth… The Lake Retreat, I think…No, book the room in your name, I’ll explain that too…So I’ll meet you some time after eleven? You’re a gem Marilyn. I owe you big time.”
Jo caught Richard’s eye as he put his phone away.
“Girlfriend?”
“Just a colleague,” he lied.
“A colleague whose number’s at the top of your speed dial and who’s prepared to drop everything late on a week night and drive an hour and a half out of Melbourne to meet you?”
�
�What do you care?” he snapped. “I’ve organized a place to go after the next posting and a car when we get there.”
She recoiled. What an idiot she’d been to think Richard was interested in her. She’d made a fool of herself clinging to him, and now he was regretting his decision to help. But if he didn’t care about her, why was he running all these risks? Was it pity? No, she realized. Guilt. He’d got her father involved with the H Group, and now her father was dead. Richard was helping her because he felt responsible. That was the only reason.
A stone in her stomach weighed her down as she walked. Well if Richard was responsible for her father’s death, she would go ahead and take his help, without qualms. The new resolve failed to reduce her leaden sense of loss.
Pull yourself together, Jo, she thought. Only two things matter right now – avoiding the Hunter and bringing down Dad’s murderers. Why Richard’s helping, isn’t important, only that he is, and you can’t afford to alienate an ally. She faced him squarely. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.” He had the grace to look contrite.
“We’ll be in a shopping area soon,” Jo continued, coolly. “The next main crossroad is High Street, which is actually the Midland Highway.”
Richard could see it ahead. The shop and street lighting were much better down there. It was a main intersection – a place the Hunter might well have left agents, unless he’d drawn them all over to Maroopna by now.
Jo was waiting stiffly for his response and he felt ashamed at having snapped at her. His problem with Marilyn was hardly her fault, and tonight she’d been through hell in the boot of that car, for which she’d uttered not a word of complaint. He found himself deferring to her. “How do you want to play this?”
Still sick at the thought of Richard’s girlfriend, and the fact that she’d misread him so badly, Jo wanted nothing more than for the walk to end. “We have to cross the highway at some point,” she said. “And a long detour will take time. Why don’t we just act like ordinary people out on a stroll, and go straight across.”
Richard was startled. It wasn’t like Jo to take this kind of risk, but having asked for her opinion, he wasn’t prepared to shoot it down.
“Do you know any languages?” he said.
“I did some French at school.” Jo was puzzled.
“Then let’s speak French as we walk through that area. It might help to put off any agents nearby.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Richard considered. “If we’re stopped, I’ll try to keep any agents occupied while you run. Get to the motel any way you can. Here…” he pulled a key from his pocket. “Wait in my room when you get there. Don’t answer the door unless you hear my voice.”
“What if you arrive before me?”
“I have things to do.”
Jo took the key, but didn’t move. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Richard.”
“I have an idea for organizing transport to get us out of Shepparton.”
“You’re not going to steal a car are you?”
“This from the person who wanted me to do just that only a short while ago.”
“That was different. We were in a tight spot. Now we have a little more time to think through our options.”
“It’s okay Jo, I wasn’t planning a heist. Bev’s sons do the nightshift on the desk and they’re always on the lookout for an easy buck. I can probably talk whoever’s on tonight into letting me borrow the motel’s van for a few hours.”
Her matter-of-fact comeback made him blink. “So you’ll need a bribe. How much do you think?”
“I’m hoping a hundred will do it,” he admitted. “I don’t carry large amounts of cash on me.”
“Luckily I do.” She fumbled under the hoodie and drew out two notes. “Here’s two hundred.”
Open-mouthed, Richard reached out. Jo pushed the notes into his hand, turned, and pulling her hood forward, continued down the street. Pocketing the money, Richard sprang to catch up, wondering if he’d ever get used to Jo’s surprises.
As they began crossing with the lights, a tall man in an overcoat approached from the other side. Richard took Jo’s hand and asked in his best carefree French accent, “Que fait-tu demain, Cheri?”
What am I doing tomorrow?” thought Jo. How do you say, running from the Hunter, in French? She strained for a quick response and a phrase from the conversational French CD came to her lips. “Je dois aller à la bibliotèque.” I have to go to the library.
The tall man had drawn level as Richard asked, “Ah, pourquoi?”
Fortunately the CD had included a reason, so she responded with, “Je dois revenir quelques livres pour ma mère.” I have to return some books for my mother.
The man passed by and they reached the other side, where a group of teenagers studied the menu in the window of a Chinese take-away and a middle-aged couple - both of solid build, walked slowly to the lights. Jo and Richard continued down Corio Street, but the middle-aged couple now turned and began to follow them.
“Ah, Cheri,” said Richard, loudly. “J’ai oublié mes lunettes. Cours vite les chercher.” He gave her a little push and Jo took off. Would the couple be fooled into thinking she was actually running to get his glasses?
As soon as Jo was clear, Richard turned, deliberately colliding with the couple, who had begun running towards him.
“Ah, excusez-moi.”
The woman moved to dodge around him and he stepped to block her. For a few seconds they engaged in a to-and-fro dance in which the woman tried to step out of his way, and Richard pretended to be trying to move out of hers. “Si désolé,” he said.
The man grabbed Richard’s arm and the woman dodged past, speeding down the path in the direction Jo had gone. Maintaining his grip, the man spoke angrily. “What’s your name?”
Richard changed to heavily accented broken English. “Ah, excuse me. My English is not good. Please, mon bras… let go.”
The man released him, but stood close as he pulled out his wallet. He held up a photo ID card, which said he was a licensed private detective with Eagle Investigations.
Shrugging and smiling, Richard pretended ignorance with a French accent. “I am sorry. I do not understand.”
“I have reason to believe,” the man said clearly, “that you are aiding and abetting a fugitive. I am putting you under citizen’s arrest.”
He took a phone from his pocket and Richard instinctively swept it from his hand. The man recovered quickly, grabbing Richard’s wrist and spinning him around to push his arm up behind his back.
The laptop skidded across the pavement and all the anger and frustration Richard had been unaware of suppressing, burst forth as energy. He rocked backwards, tipped the agent off balance and spun to break his hold. Then he threw a punch, rejoicing in the physical release. This man was his!
The fight was not easy. His opponent, though older, was tough and experienced. The two men fought silently and intently before Richard’s youth and stamina won out. A feint and a trip sent the agent flying, and Richard heard a crack as his skull hit the pavement.
He stared at the unconscious man in shock. What had he done? The agent’s phone was lying in the gutter and Richard picked it up and dialed emergency. He gave the operator the address and told her to send an ambulance for a man with a head injury. As she began asking for details of the man’s condition, Richard looked up and saw the teenagers who’d been outside the Chinese restaurant, gawking at him from the corner. He severed the connection and dropped the agent’s phone into his pocket. Then scooping up the laptop, he walked away quickly. Had those kids seen his face well enough to provide a good description? He didn’t think so but with any luck they’d heard him speaking French and the police would be looking for a foreigner.
Richard weaved through side streets searching for Jo, but saw neither her nor the female agent. He became aware that his hand was aching, and realized he’d been gripping the laptop fiercely. Had Jo managed to lose the agent or was the woman now holding her for
the Hunter?
Non-appearance of the chopper was a bad sign. If Jo had escaped, the agent would surely have called for the chopper’s help with its searchlight, but if the woman had secured Jo somewhere in the heart of Shepparton where helicopters couldn’t land, she’d have told the Hunter to drop his chopper off at the airport and come by car.
Richard pulled the male agent’s phone from his pocket. No missed calls or messages. The woman hadn’t tried to communicate with her partner. He dared to hope this was good news, but waiting for a possible message wasn’t worth the risk of keeping the phone. He turned it off and ground it under his heel before dropping it down a storm water drain.
All he could do now was return to the motel. If Jo wasn’t there, he’d borrow the motel’s van as planned, and go looking for her. As he hurried back, Richard grimly considered what plans the Hunter would be making in regard to him. He’d hardly care to leave witnesses, so had probably already added Richard to his hit list. At some stage during the car chase the agents would have radioed the Commodore’s number plate to the Hunter, and at opening of business hours tomorrow they’d learn the car had been hired for Richard Sayers, agricultural machinery salesman.
Logically, agency operatives would then contact Richard’s farming machinery front company and inform them their salesman was aiding a fugitive kidnapper. The agents would ask for cooperation in apprehending him and the company would stall, saying he was in a country region and out of mobile phone range … Bloody hell, his phone! Richard pulled it out and shut it down. Another near disaster averted.
The farming machinery company would contact BEAM with the information that a detective agency had accused Richard of aiding a fugitive, and his real bosses would wonder what was going on. If he couldn’t come up with a plausible story for them, they might think he’d lost his judgment in some unsavory emotional entanglement, and close down his Brooks and Blatman investigation.
Life wasn’t getting any easier.
