Secret in the Clouds

by Christopher Cummings

  “Oh don’t say that!” Graham cried, glancing up at the sky.

  Stephen pointed to an old, overgrown timber track nearby. “I vote we go up the mountain from here. We are right at the end of it now, and I’ll bet that old track goes up it.”

  The sound of a vehicle’s engine settled it for them. They scuttled into cover and watched as a brown Toyota Land Cruiser came from the north and crossed the bridge. Stephen took out his compass and secateurs again and set off along the old road.

  It did lead up the mountain, at least for the first kilometre, getting steeper and more and more overgrown all the time till they lost it and just struggled on up the slope through the jungle. All the while Stephen kept glancing at his watch, all too aware of how quickly the minutes were slipping by. He was also irritated by how Tom kept falling behind. ‘Bloody sook is so unfit he can’t keep up!’ he thought angrily.

  With the time limit urging him on Stephen set himself the goal of climbing a hundred metres upwards every ten minutes, at least half of that time being halts to get their breath. The remainder was spent struggling through the entwining vegetation. As they climbed they had almost no view out through the thick canopy of vegetation and Stephen found this irritating as he could not judge their progress.

  To further annoy him Stephen noted Peter continually checking his watch and it spurred him on. He struggled upwards until brought to a panting halt by Graham calling on him to stop. “Fair go Steve! We don’t want to kill ourselves with a heart attack!” he gasped.

  It was 12:15 by then. They had to slow down anyway because Tom could not keep up. They used the time to pull off a few leeches and to drink. Peter looked anxious and said, “What about lunch?”

  “Eat it on top,” Stephen said.

  “But I’m hungry,” Peter replied.

  “You’re as bad as bloody Roger!” Stephen snapped.

  Peter smiled at that but shook his head. “It’s nearly time to start back.”

  “Another half hour yet,” Stephen answered.

  “It won’t make much difference. We won’t get to the top in that time,” Peter replied.

  “We might,” Stephen said. “Anyway, it will be faster coming down.”

  “Thirteen hundred we agreed,” Peter insisted.

  “You can go back then, but I’m going on,” Stephen replied. “I haven’t come this far just to turn back.”

  “Don’t be silly Steve!” Peter retorted.

  “You can go back. I’ll walk home,” Stephen said.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Peter replied, his face clouded with anxiety.

  “Maybe, but this is important to me. I’m going on. You can do what you like,” Stephen said. With that he turned and resumed the climb.

  CHAPTER 17

  ON THE MOUNTAINSIDE

  Stephen knew he was being stubborn but he felt impelled to unravel the mystery. ‘There is something funny going on up this mountain and I want to know what it is,’ he told himself as he struggled up around a clump of wait-a-while. He was hot and sweaty and feeling very irritated. He was also very anxious. A glance over his shoulder eased this somewhat. Graham was making his way up behind him and Peter and Tom were following further down.

  For the next twenty minutes Stephen pushed himself, aware that the time was slipping rapidly by. To his dismay 13:00 came up and still no sign of the summit.

  ‘It can’t be much further,’ he thought. ‘We have been climbing for three hours now.’

  Gasping with effort Stephen climbed around some rocks and hauled himself up a steep slope from tree to tree, keeping to the narrow crest of the ridge they had been climbing. A gleam of brighter light showed ahead and helped him to keep trying. Wiping sweat from his face and hands he clambered up another twenty metres, to stop on a bare rock.

  ‘At last!’ he thought. ‘A view.’

  From where he was he could see out over the coastal mountains and also up the ridge. It did not seem to be much further to the crest. A glance at his watch showed him it was 13:15. ‘A bit more won’t hurt,’ he reasoned.

  Peter didn’t agree, and said they should start back down at once. He did at least concede it was a wonderful view but he was looking very worried. Graham just looked his usual self, enjoying the physical exercise. Tom appeared to be worn out. He flopped down and lay gasping for breath.

  “Time we started back,” Peter said.

  “Oh please Pete. There is the top just there,” Stephen pleaded.

  “Where is the wreck?” Peter asked.

  “Down the other side a few hundred metres,” Stephen said.

  “Nearly a kilometre,” Graham added.

  “Seven hundred metres,” Stephen conceded. “Ten or fifteen minutes.”

  Graham made a face. “More like half an hour,” he said.

  “Oh come on! We are so close,” Stephen pleaded. He was burning with the desire to reach the wreck.

  Graham gave him an odd look and said, “What’s biting you Steve? Is there some souvenir you particularly want?”

  “Something like that,” Stephen conceded.

  Peter sniffed. “Can’t it wait? The bloody thing has been lying there for sixty years now,” he replied, his annoyance showing.

  Stephen shook his head. “No. I think those men are looking for it,” he replied.

  Peter drained a waterbottle and stared at him. “What men?”

  “Those men blocking off the road,” Stephen answered.

  “Oh come off it Steve! Why should they do that?” Peter asked.

  “Because......because there is absolute proof that the plane was flying in to meet a spy, and I think that person is still alive and wants the evidence removed,” Stephen answered.

  The others stared at him. Peter shook his head. “What evidence? That briefcase?”

  “That was one thing,” Stephen agreed.

  “Well what is it?” Graham demanded.

  “I’d rather not say. Then you can’t let it slip by accident,” Stephen answered.

  “That’s why you are carrying your pack instead of webbing,” Graham stated.

  Stephen nodded “Yes, now please, let’s hurry.”

  Graham stood up. “Alright. But I’m nearly out of water. Who else is coming?”

  Tom at once stood up. “I am.”

  Reluctantly Peter agreed to go on a bit longer. Stephen felt a surge of triumph and began at once, pushing through the stunted and twisted trees that grew on that part of the mountain. The others followed, with much muttering and grumbling. Now that they were up on the higher slopes they began to get a wind effect which chilled the sweat that soaked them. More and more open, rocky areas had to be traversed and from these the boys were granted better views in all directions.

  ‘Not as good as when we were here last,’ Stephen thought, noting the banks of clouds drifting in. Once he paused on a rock to stare out to sea, picturing in his mind that time many years before when an enemy ship had lurked out there. Now he found it impossible to determine where sky ended and sea began as a haze had developed.

  Just after 1:25 they reached the crest. Stephen experienced a spurt of satisfaction but did not pause, hurrying on down the other side. The others followed without complaint. Soon afterwards they came to a cleared and trampled track just on the inland slope of the crest.

  “Bloody hell!” Graham cried. “Like a superhighway now.”

  “Be the rescue worker’s track,” Peter suggested.

  “Yes, or the salvage team,” Stephen added. His anxiety increased sharply. ‘Have they found it?’ he thought. ‘I have to know.’ He hurried on as fast as he could safely go.

  Ten minutes later they reached the scene of the plane crash. By then Stephen was well ahead. He at once plunged down off the crest into the jungle and slithered and scrambled along the mountainside to the wreck of the Arado. As he did he was appalled. The whole slope had been cleared of undergrowth and raked over or dug up. ‘Oh no!’ he thought anxiously. ‘I hope they didn’t find it.’

/>   When he reached the site of the wreck he noted that the main items were still there but that the tail fin and parts of the wings were gone, as was the machine gun and cockpit canopy. The fuselage had been opened up and all the area around excavated. The scene was nothing like the original discovery. The sight saddened and upset him. ‘I’m glad I was able to have the remains properly looked after,’ he thought as he stared into the wreckage.

  But he didn’t linger. He hurried on along the slope to where he had buried his find. With every step he became more anxious, seeing just how thoroughly the area had been cleared and searched. ‘They will have used metal detectors for sure,’ he thought.

  To his immense relief the cleared area stopped a few metres short of the place where he had hidden his discovery. He glanced around to check that he was alone then flung off his pack. Using both hands he dug into the leafmould on the steep slope. Several large rocks had to be shifted and rolled aside. His hands touched cold metal.

  “It’s still here!” he muttered, relief surging through him. As quickly as he could he hauled the metal case clear, scraped off dirt and leaves and shoved the case into his pack. Having done the pack up and had a drink he clipped the empty waterbottle on the outside. Then he swung the pack on. A few minutes of careful work restored the area to look natural. That done he made his way slowly back across the side of the mountain towards the wreck.

  As he did he heard rapid scuffling and the crackle of breaking twigs. Fearing an attack by a wild pig or cassowary Stephen stopped in alarm. But it was Graham. He came slithering and hurrying along through the open jungle. As soon as their eyes met Graham shook his head and he put his finger to his lips.

  Stephen had been about to call out to ask what was wrong but now closed his mouth and waited. Graham hurried over to him. “Two men,” he gasped. “One is the bloke who was at the roadblock yesterday. They have caught Peter and Tom.”

  “What do you mean caught?” Stephen whispered. He found he was perspiring and that his heart had begun to hammer rapidly.

  “They just arrived and called them over, and one has a rifle. They are in a foul mood,” Graham replied.

  Stephen felt a surge of unease that he could not explain. “I have to get out of here without them seeing me,” he whispered.

  Graham looked astonished. “But why? They will only be Forestry Rangers or something. We aren’t doing anything wrong are we?”

  Stephen shook his head. “We might be. Something fishy is afoot and I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’ll go down the mountain on my own.”

  Graham shook his head. “No you won’t! I’ll come with you. They haven’t seen me. I don’t think Peter or Tom will say anything.”

  As he said that the sound of voices came to them. Both looked anxiously around. By common consent they moved to crouch behind a clump of nearby rocks. Stephen carefully peered through a gap between a rock and a tree. Fifty paces away, standing among the remains of the wrecked Arado, were Peter, Tom and two men. One of the men looked around and seemed to stare straight at Stephen, who froze in alarm. The man looked back at Peter and said, “There are four of you. Where are the other two?”

  Peter shook his head. “No, there are only two of us.”

  The second man snapped angrily , “He’s lying Henry. Robert said there were four of them.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Peter replied.

  “What are you doing here?” the man named Henry asked. “This is a prohibited area.”

  “There aren’t any signs saying that,” Peter countered.

  “Well it is. Now co-operate or I will arrest you for trespassing,” Henry replied.

  Stephen bit his lip and hesitated. ‘Should we give ourselves up to help Peter and Tom?’ he wondered. ‘And where can I hide my pack?’ he glanced around, seeking an answer. Then he decided it would not do any good to tamely surrender.

  At that moment Henry said to his companion, “You guard these two Rolf, while I have a look around.”

  It was the name that decided Stephen. ‘Rolf!’ he thought. ‘That’s a German name; and he told us his name was Ted!’ He crouched lower and looked for an escape route. To his relief Henry went off in the other direction. As soon as he had Stephen gestured back along the slope.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered.

  “Have you got what you came for?” Graham asked.

  “Yes I have, and I think it might be the key to this mystery. Come on!”

  Stephen turned and hurried along the side of the mountain, thankful now that the undergrowth had been cleared. They were able to cover fifty metres quickly and quietly, keeping the clump of rocks between them and the men. By the time they had to start pushing through undergrowth they were far enough away for the sound to be muffled. Stephen took out his secateurs and began snipping vines that held him up.

  “Don’t leave too much of a trail,” Graham cautioned.

  “We need to get out of the area fast,” Stephen replied. He noted Graham eyeing his pack with open curiosity. Being the good friend he was Graham didn’t ask. He just followed.

  The mountainside was steep and very hard to move along, particularly where there were clumps of wait-a-while. As a general rule Stephen went downhill around any obstacles so that they quickly descended into areas of rainforest with enormously tall trees and very little undergrowth. Stephen had no eyes for the beauties of nature, but continually scanned for signs of people. He tried to move as fast as he could without making too much noise.

  Once again sweat soaked his face and clothes but he had now drained the last of his water and his mouth was dry. For navigation Stephen just kept heading southwards, knowing that he was on the seaward side of the crest. ‘That should take us down to near the car,’ he thought. When he put this to Graham he agreed.

  It was after 2pm by then and clouds had begun to envelop the mountain top. This made it cooler but also gloomier. Despite being hungry, cold and thirsty Stephen was now gripped by intense excitement. The arrival of the men on the mountain top had confirmed in his mind that something suspicious was indeed going on. ‘They were told to come and find us,’ he thought. But who had told them? And why?

  Excitement began to give way to unease as the possibility that he might be breaking the law dawned on him. ‘I wouldn’t like to get Graham or Peter into trouble,’ he thought, guiltily remembering past occasions when his actions had caused them considerable trouble.

  At about 2:30 they came onto the crest line they had followed up. The pair rested for a minute and debated the wisdom of retracing their route. “We might meet more men,” Graham said.

  “Be quicker though,” Stephen pointed out.

  Graham conceded this. “I’ve had enough scrub bashing,” he replied.

  So they went on down the crest, following their trail. This was certainly faster and easier and they reached the bottom at Rifle Creek Bridge by 3:20. They pushed down through the jungle to the creek to refill their water bottles, as both were now suffering the effects of thirst and heat. Having done that, and having drunk their fill, the problem of which way to go next had to be faced.

  “If we just walk along the road we are liable to get caught,” Graham pointed out. “All they will have to do is wait under cover at a bend and grab us as we walk past.”

  “Only if they are in front of us,” Stephen answered. “I doubt if they will be down off the mountain yet.”

  “That bloke on guard at the road block will be ahead of us,” Graham reminded.

  “We know where he is. We can cut off before then,” Stephen said.

  Graham thought for a minute then nodded. “OK. Tell you what, I will walk fifty paces ahead of you. Then, when they try to get me you can take to the scrub.”

  “You don’t have to take the risk,” Stephen replied, feeling guilty at involving Graham.

  Graham grinned. “Yes I do. You are my mate, and if that thing in your pack is so important then you are the one who needs to get away. Besides, I reckon I can
outrun those jokers in the jungle.”

  Stephen felt a surge of emotion at this and remembered with gratitude the time Graham had helped him elude the police two years earlier. ‘He is a good mate,’ he thought. He nodded. “OK, off you go.”

  Graham at once set off at a fast walk. Stephen let him get to the next bend then started after him. It was a steep uphill slope for half a kilometre and Graham pushed himself up it. Even though the effort left him gasping Stephen did not complain as he wanted to get out of the area as quickly as possible. ‘I hope Peter and Tom are alright,’ he brooded. All the while he kept his ears alert for the sound of a vehicle coming from behind, tensed ready for flight into the jungle. He kept his secateurs in his hand just in case.

  It took them only 45 minutes to cover the four kilometres back to the point where they had cut through the jungle. Stephen came panting around a bend, striding along as fast as he could go and was called by Graham, who was waiting just inside the edge of the jungle. “In here Steve. Here’s our track through to Quaid Road.”

  It was an enormous relief to leave the open clearing of the road and to enter the cover of the jungle. Both stopped to have a drink before retracing their steps. Graham led and took them exactly along their previous route, he having an uncanny knack for such bushcraft. Ten minutes later they reached the edge of the wide clearing along which the Quaid Road ran. Here Graham paused and peered along it from under cover.

  “I don’t think we should walk along this,” Graham said.

  “Take us a lot longer if we don’t,” Stephen said, eyeing the green tangle on the opposite side of the clearing. But he knew Graham was right so he nodded. “Lead on.”

  Graham took out his compass and set it after a quick study of his map. Then he scurried across the road and into the jungle beyond. Stephen followed, glancing frequently along to his right as he did. The tension and exertion caused his heart rate to shoot up and he found his mouth dry by the time he joined Graham under cover. He glanced at his watch, noting with dismay it was nearly 5pm.

  Graham pushed straight into the jungle on a compass course, dodging around the worst thickets. Now the years of experience told and they made good time, covering the 500 metres to the pine forest in fifteen minutes. As they pushed up through a head-high belt of weeds and ferns to the edge of the forest Graham suddenly stopped and put his hand to his ear.