Читать книгу Grievous Harm - Sandy Curtis - Страница 10

Although she hadn't purchased a tent, the gear Kate carried was becoming increasingly heavy to lug around, and she was grateful the wind had eased and now wasn't pushing against her. By the time she reached the hostel her arms were aching.

Glen hadn't come on duty yet, but Kate had become friendly with the girl who worked mornings in reception, and quickly stowed her purchases in the area behind the desk. Last night she'd told Glen what she intended to do, and he'd told her the various places she could buy the gear she needed cheaply. She was going to miss him, she realised as she packed her belongings a few minutes later. Without his help she might have ruined all chances of finding Melanie and Cindy.

A knock on her door made her spin around. In the weeks she'd been here, no-one had come to her room, and her heart beat wildly at the thought that Nathaniel might have somehow uncovered her plans.

'Kate, it's Glen,' came hissing through the door, and she quickly ran and opened it. Glen slipped inside. He locked the door, then pulled out a small package and handed it to her. 'It's not legal,' he said, 'but you might need it. There's only one box of ammunition, but it's all I could get.'

The gun lay small and light in its cloth wrapping. She picked it up, felt the squareness of the short butt in her palm, noted the snub barrel.

'It's a PM9 Kahr,' Glen explained. 'It takes 9 millimetre ammo and comes with two magazines, a six-shot and a seven-rounder.' He took the pistol from her and demonstrated. 'It's designed so you can conceal it easily in your clothing or bag.'

'How do you know so much about guns?'

'My father. He belongs to a gun club. When I was a kid he was worried that I wasn't macho enough so he used to take me duck-shooting with him. When I refused to kill anything he dragged me along to the gun club hoping that some of the macho there would rub off.'

He laughed. 'It didn't, but I realised if I learned about guns it gave us something to talk about.' He smiled wryly. 'He definitely wasn't interested in clothes and makeup.'

'Is this one of his?' Kate was reluctant to involve anyone else in her problems, especially if it could get them in trouble with the law. She'd heard about Australia's tight gun laws and how you needed to be licensed to own a firearm.

Glen laughed. 'Not likely. This is a woman's gun, for personal protection. I bought it on the street.'

She shook her head. 'I can't afford it. I don't have much money left and I don't know how long I'll need to keep looking for Melanie and Cindy.'

'I don't want your money.'

'But why? You've already helped me so much. And this must have cost you a packet.'

'The man who gave you the information on the Loving Hand? The one whose sister tried to get her kid back from them but was found dead from a supposed drug overdose?'

She nodded.

'Remember he said that after his sister died, two men told his kids to tell their daddy that families should stick together. He got the message, which is why he didn't keep trying to get his nephew back. He had to protect his own kids. I can't tolerate bullies, I had enough of that at school. And if his sister was right about her suspicions of them sexually abusing the children in the communes…'

Kate tried to push the unwanted images his words had created from her mind. 'I still can't understand why the police haven't been able to do anything.' The tension and frustration of the past few weeks edged her voice.

'They need proof,' Glen sighed. 'And the Loving Hand knows it. Their followers are loyal, and the few that leave seem to disappear or won't say anything against them. If they were as big as some of the other questionable so-called religions in the country the media would have made a big deal about them years ago and maybe got some results.' He thrust the gun at her. 'If I thought I'd be useful I'd go with you, but at least you'll have some protection with this.'

She took the gun, wrapped it up and put it in her backpack. 'Thank you. I'll get it back to you so you can get your money back.'

Glen shrugged. 'The money's not important. Just stay alive.'

His words heightened Kate's apprehension at the task she'd set herself, but she took a deep breath and smiled at him. 'That's my intention.'

'Your chariot has arrived,' Glen joked, as they met the man with the keys at reception. His smile never made it to his eyes. 'I'll give you a hand with your gear.'

Within minutes they'd packed Kate's belongings into the Rav4 the hire firm had delivered.

Saying goodbye to Glen was harder than Kate anticipated. She hadn't realised how much his friendship and support had meant to her. Being alone had never bothered her before, but it was different now there was so much at stake.

A middle-aged man in a slightly crumpled suit had just reached the reception counter when Glen walked back into the hostel. Glen was about to go upstairs when he heard the man say Kate's name to the receptionist. With quick strides, he moved behind the counter and gushed at the girl that he was there for his afternoon shift and she should hurry off and check out the sales at a nearby boutique.

He didn't miss the contempt in the man's eyes as he waved his manicured nails and asked how he could be of assistance.

'I'm from Immigration.' The man flipped an ID at Glen and just as quickly pocketed it. 'I need to speak with Kate Maclaren. I believe she's staying here.'

'Was, ducky, was.' Glen knew he was over-doing it, but the impulse to get up this man's nose was too hard to resist. The odds of him being with the immigration department were as long as those of Glen growing natural breasts. 'Lovely girl. Gone for a few days' sightseeing around the place before she flies back to the States.'

'Did she leave an itinerary?'

'Sorry, ducks. She said she's hired a car and is just going to stop where she fancies.'

The sour expression on the man's face deepened. Glen decided to throw him a crumb. 'She did mention something about the Hawkesbury.'

'Thanks.' The word came out as a mutter, and the lack of gratitude beneath it was noticeable.

'No worries,' Glen smiled, and kept his expression bright until the man walked out. He'd slipped in two red herrings, but he wondered if they'd been believed. For Kate's sake, he hoped so.

Tailing Kate Maclaren's hire vehicle was easy with the GPS micro tracker his colleagues had attached to it. John glanced at the blinking light moving across the monitor and wondered again what the attractive American had planned.

Driving on what was, for her, the 'wrong' side of the road took more concentration than Kate remembered from her first attempt eight years ago, and she was grateful it prevented her thoughts wandering too often to Melanie and Cindy or what might be happening to them.

Only when she'd reached the outer suburbs did she follow Glen's advice and pull into a supermarket for groceries and ice. He'd assured her they would be a lot cheaper than at the small convenience stores at the Cross, and to her relief they were. Fuel was expensive here in Australia, so she'd asked for the most economical four-wheel-drive vehicle available. Hopefully it would prove as good as they'd told her.

She moved quickly, anxious to make her destination by nightfall, and didn't notice the man who glanced at the contents of her shopping trolley and threw similar goods into his.

John tracked Kate's Rav4 across the Blue Mountains. She didn't stop at any of the tourist attractions that made the area so popular, but kept driving. In Bathurst she re-fuelled and ate, and John did the same. Once past Bathurst her confidence seemed to wane. She left the main road, took several minor roads, once driving back the way she'd come, causing John to detour down a side track to avoid being seen. Not that Kate would know she was being followed, but John didn't want her to get suspicious if she saw his car again.

Although the countryside wasn't as steep as the Blue Mountains, it was far from flat; heavily treed in some parts, farmed in others and partially cleared for cattle in others. The winding road was narrow, the bitumen only a thin grey slice through patchwork green and brown.

Kate was travelling more slowly now, and when John reached the dirt road she'd taken he could understand why. Barely more than a track, rutted and uneven, in wet weather it would be impassable except for the toughest four-wheel-drive. Cursing the government-issued sedan that had been his only available option at such short notice, and grateful the drought hadn't yet broken in the area, John followed.

Eventually he saw wheel marks leaving the track and cutting a swathe through the long grass and spindly shrubs. He hesitated. Kate appeared to have negotiated the Rav4 to a large stand of trees and driven into it.

What the hell was the woman up to?

He was reluctant to follow. A hidden rock could rip open the sump on his car and leave him stranded. But there didn't appear to be much choice. Inching slowly forward, he followed the tracks to the trees.

Kate's pack bumped on her back, and sweat trickled down in spite of the cool air and the thickness of her shirt. The afternoon wasn't as cold as on the previous days, and she'd long before taken off her sweatshirt and tied it around her waist. As she scrambled up yet another steep incline, rocks slipping under her boots, she wished she'd driven a bit further up the track before turning off. It had been a decision made in caution, and, she admitted, more than a little fear of what she might discover or who might have come across her if she'd continued. At the top of the rise she reached again for the map and the compass she'd bought, then realised that what she sought lay before her in a shallow valley surrounded by trees.

Four steep-roofed, weathered timber buildings, two double-storey and two single, circled a large, grassed, open area. Chickens from a coop next to one of the larger buildings pecked their way across the grass. Shrub-bordered paths connected the buildings. In the downward slope of the valley about twenty-five people tended acres of small crops. An orchard covered an even larger area. The rest of the land had been fenced off and cleared except for random clumps of trees, and two dairy cows chewed contentedly in the shade. A post-and-rail fence isolated a small milking shed, and a machinery shed was located close to the cultivated area.

The only access road to the compound was blocked by double gates flanked on both sides by a high wire-mesh fence that encircled the houses and grounds in a huge ellipse. Another gated fence cordoned off the buildings from the farm section. Kate estimated that the whole compound area must encompass close to 200 acres. She took binoculars from her backpack and, lying down in case her movement could be seen from below, even though the ridge was overgrown with saplings and undergrowth, focused on the scene.

The people, some men, some women, were dressed in long pants and shirts or jumpers and wore hats. Several of the women were pregnant. None of the women in the group appeared to bear any resemblance to Melanie, but at this distance it wasn't easy to tell, even with the binoculars. A big German Shepherd dozed under a tree on the edge of the small crops area closest to Kate.

Kate shifted her focus to the buildings. No signs of any activity. No adults. No children. She shivered as a late afternoon breeze cooled her moist skin. Once the sun went down, the temperature would drop dramatically. She glanced at her watch. It would be dark in half an hour. She'd have to get back to her vehicle. She'd left markers to ensure she wouldn't get lost, but thrashing around in the bush at night wasn't appealing. Paul had told her that seven out of the ten most venomous snakes in the world were to be found in Australia. Encountering one of them in daylight would be bad enough, let alone while trying to find her way in the dark.

She turned her attention back to the field workers who were now packing their tools into a tractor-drawn trailer. Yes, it was definitely time to head back to her vehicle.

Locating Kate Maclaren's Rav4 was easy. She'd managed to find a gap in the trees large enough to hide the vehicle.

After his initial scout around, John cautiously approached it. It was locked, and Kate was nowhere to be seen. The camping equipment was still packed in the back. There were no discernible trails leading away from the site.

He was beginning to doubt the wisdom of following her, but her actions had been suspicious, and perhaps she'd discovered something that would be helpful to him. His assignment and his interest in the suspected paedophile ring seemed to be merging, and he was finding it difficult not to run with what his heart was telling him was more important. For a man who always listened to his head, it was an uncomfortable feeling.

He checked his mobile phone. No signal. It didn't surprise him. It was not a region that would be well-serviced in that regard.

He walked back into the scrub and waited.

Over a thousand kilometres away, Ryder watched physicists, mathematicians and scientists as they went about their work. It was the same everywhere, he thought. Those on the top rungs of the ladder never noticed those who cleaned up after them.

He doubted if more than one of the white-coated figures would know his name, let alone bother to acknowledge his presence.

He emptied the shredder, the cross-cut pieces fluttering like confetti into the large bag. Everything flammable was incinerated, even labels were scraped from cans; cans and bottles were crushed and buried; food scraps composted. Nothing left the facility.

When personnel arrived, all their clothing was confiscated on arrival and stored in a locked section of the facility by the delivering officer, and government-issue clothing supplied. Scans ensured no body orifices hid even the smallest item. The procedure on leaving was reversed. Any personal possessions that were allowed in were thoroughly inspected, scanned and, if necessary, taken apart to ensure their security. Mail, both inwards and outwards, government and personal, was read, scanned and a copy kept.

It seemed impossible to get anything out of Duralinga.

Kate was grateful that the trees gave some shelter from the cold night air, but she wished the small camping stove was really a blazing fire that would spread light as well as heat. She'd been camping at night before, but never on her own, and not in this country. At least Australia didn't have cougars or bears. No, most of its deadliest creatures were small and hidden, which, in her mind, made them all the more scary. Melanie had told her about having to look out for funnel-web and redback spiders when playing in the garden as a child.

The night sounds reminded her that this was unfamiliar territory, and she hoped the rustling she'd heard earlier was just another wallaby like the one she'd seen that afternoon.

She shifted the saucepan of Irish stew aside, put a slice of bread in the toasting rack and held it over the circular flame.

A sharp crack sounded behind her.

She spun around and stared into the darkness.