The Word of God (10 page)

“I just want to go home!” Charmaine added. “I'm scared.”

But short of just trying to walk out there was little they could do. Peter did not want to anyway. He was quite happy for Capt Conkey to be present and did not want his parents involved. Nor, emphatically, did Stephen.

“If my oldies hear I have gotten mixed up with this crowd again they will throw a fit,” he commented.

Gwen raised her eyebrows. “So how were you mixed up before?” she asked, her eyes glinting with challenge.

Stephen shifted uncomfortably. “I'd rather not say thanks.”

There was an awkward silence, broken by the return of Capt Conkey. He faced the cadets. “You are all free to go if you wish. You can also contact your parents if you wish; or I can sit in for you. My advice at the moment is to do what Inspector Goldstein asks.”

That settled it. But they had to wait for more senior police to arrive from Cairns. Peter glanced at the clock on the wall. 10:00 pm.
It is going to be a long night,
he mused. He unwrapped his hamburger and settled to eating.

A car arrived in the yard and two more policemen came in. They were both older, with grey hair, and wore suits. It was obvious they were superior to Inspector Goldstein but he did not introduce them except to Capt Conkey. After that they went into another room with Capt Conkey to question him.

Gwen stood up: “Can I get my pack please? I want my pullover. It's getting cold.”

The constable nodded and went to the door with her. At that they all went out and collected their packs and carried them in. Joy unrolled her sleeping bag and settled herself on the floor in the corner. Peter thought it was a good idea but found his mind too busy for sleep.

Instead, to fill in the time, he took out the papers he had taken from the packs on top of the mountain and began to sort them. When he reached the decoded radio messages he studied them carefully. The cadets often used codes on exercises and they were a subject that fascinated him. In his second year he had been the unit Signals Corporal, and the year after the HQ sergeant, so he had plenty of experience of them. Out of boredom he sat and copied them into his notebook and set about trying to decode the message which was not
decoded. The first part had been decoded and read: Delay executions. Do not kill knights. Special Agent. Then it was trigrams which weren't decoded.

It was the sort of mental challenge Peter relished and he set to with a will. First he made a neat copy, in Alphabetical order of all the words, letters and numbers for which they had a trigram. Within ten minutes he had the gist of it. The message read:

‘Delay Executions. Do not kill knights. Special Agent B M FRIAR BORIS OF ?ACUL MOVING TO QUESTION THEM. ACT ON HIS ORDERS. Trigram (Password ?) IS S ? E C T R E (SPECTRE?).' There were then seven more trigrams which he could not decode, which he found very annoying. That done he wrote out a neat copy for the police.

Ten minutes later, after Stephen, Charmaine and Dean had all joined Joy in their sleeping bags on the floor, Capt Conkey came to the door. He beckoned to Peter. “You first Peter.”

Peter pocketed his notebook and stood up. He took the papers with him and made his way into the interview room. Feeling more nervous than he wanted to admit he seated himself at the indicated chair facing four policemen, including Inspector Goldstein and the two older men. Capt Conkey sat beside him.

Once again Peter had to tell the tale. This time he could see it was being recorded. When he mentioned the gun Inspector Goldstein interrupted.

“Where is the pistol now?”

“Graham has it,” Peter replied.

Inspector Goldstein grunted and made a note, then indicated Peter should continue. He did so, being stopped again when he mentioned the captured documents and papers. He slid these across and they were carefully scrutinized by the men. All in all it took nearly an hour for him to recount the story and to answer their questions. By then he was feeling very drained and badly wanted to go to the toilet and to bed.

Inspector Goldstein looked up at the wall clock. “Nearly midnight. I think we should wrap this up for the moment. We can finish taking statements from the other kids tomorrow morning. We have enough to work on now and I don't think they will have much to add.”

Peter was niggled by being called a kid but whole-heartedly agreed with the sentiment. With a groan he stood up, all his leg and back muscles having stiffened up.

Capt Conkey asked: “Does that mean you want us to spend the night here?”

Inspector Goldstein nodded. “Yes, that's right. You can bunk down in the back room.”

“Can't we go somewhere more comfortable?” Capt Conkey asked.

“You can if you like but it is more convenient for you to stay here,” Inspector Goldstein replied.

“Don't we even get a bed?”

“There are beds in the cells if you prefer,” Inspector Goldstein replied, his face creasing into the first smile Peter had seen on it.

Capt Conkey frowned. “Is it because you think that the cadets might still be in some sort of danger?” he challenged.

Inspector Goldstein shook his head. “I doubt it. I know what the Devil Worshipper threatened but that was before they knew that the police were involved. I'd say they will be too busy running for cover now. No, I really want to keep you together so that there is no chance of anyone talking. If this leaks out our investigations will really be compromised.”

Capt Conkey accepted this, although he was plainly unhappy about it. He led Peter out to the back room. They found all the others asleep but Gwen stirred as they came in. A different constable sat at the table.

We are being guarded
, Peter decided.

As he made his way to the toilet he heard the sound of the helicopter again. It flew low overhead and sounded as though it was landing somewhere nearby. A quick sum told Peter that it could not have been hovering over the Pyramid all that time. He took a look outside and was surprised to find a strong wind was blowing and that the temperature had fallen dramatically.

He unpacked his pullover and put it on, then unrolled his sleeping bag on the floor beside Joy. As he settled in this a car drove into the yard. There were voices and the door opened. Graham was shown in by a constable. He looked very tired and was shivering.

“Strewth it is bloody cold out there!” he said as he came in.

Capt Conkey sat up on his blankets. “Are you alright Graham?”

“Bit tired, but otherwise fine sir,” Graham replied.

Several of the others stirred. Charmaine sat up and Gwen looked out of her sleeping bag. Only then did Peter notice that Stephen was sleeping on the other side of Joy. Once again he was surprised at his reaction.

Turning to Graham Peter asked: “What took you so long?”

“They winched the injured guy up and took him to Cairns Hospital, then refuelled and came back to get us.”

“Is the injured man alright?” Gwen asked.

“He was still alive when he got to the hospital, that's all I know,” Graham replied.

Charmaine pouted. “So you got a helicopter ride then?” she asked.

“Yes, but I can't say I enjoyed it. It is blowing a bloody gale up on top of the Pyramid and the winching was a bit hair raising,” Graham replied. “And bloody cold! I'm glad I'm not one of the people still up there.”

Gwen looked surprised. “Are there still people up there?”

Graham chuckled. “Yes, one very cold and grumpy sergeant and his team. They are guarding those bodies. I don't envy them that job.”

For a moment it did not register what Graham had said. Then Charmaine sat bolt upright. “What bodies?” she cried.

Peter saw Graham mentally kick himself. He made a face, then said: “There were a couple of old skeletons where the Devil Worshippers had done sacrifices in the past.”

Charmaine gasped, then cried aloud: “Sacrifices! That is awful! They will come here now and kill us! I want to go home!”

She began to cry and looked very scared and distressed. Graham looked sheepish while Gwen and Capt Conkey got up to comfort her. The noise disturbed the others and led to them all being awake.

Stephen did not help by saying: “I think we should be on guard. We interrupted their sacrifice and they might come after us.”

Chapter 7

MULGRAVE RIVER

C
harmaine let out another cry and began to sob again. Peter made a face and Graham looked at him helplessly.

Capt Conkey indicated the constable at the table. “The constable there will be awake,” he pointed out.

The constable nodded and said: “You will be quite safe. There will be someone awake here all night.”

Charmaine was partly calmed but still looked very worried. Capt Conkey shook his head and said shortly: “Let's all get to bed. It is nearly one a.m. and we need the sleep. Now settle down, and stop talking about… about it.”

Reluctantly Charmaine lay back down. Graham went to the toilet. When he came back he asked: “Where's my pack? I suppose you mob left it in the bush.”

Peter pointed to the corner. “There. We didn't forget.”

“Thanks mate.”

A few minutes later they were all lying quietly and the light was switched off. Peter wanted to discuss the affair with Graham but a growl and a frown from Capt Conkey silenced him. He lay back and listened to the wind howling outside. The sound made him shiver. It was certainly a dreadful business. For a time he lay there mulling over the day's events.

Unable to sleep Peter went out to the toilet. Out on the veranda it was freezing cold and very windy but he stopped and leaned on the railing, looking at the white steam billowing from the chimney of the sugar mill. For a few minutes the scene of shiny machinery, spurts of steam, bright lights and moving wagons held his attention before it wandered on to deeper thoughts.

It was the religion thing that was bothering him. Peter had never been particularly religious and had even flirted with the idea of being an agnostic, to disclaim the whole lot as hocus pocus. Being very keen on science he had been drawn to the rationalist arguments, to Evolution rather than Creation. But even when wanting to believe the Big Bang theory of how the universe had been formed there had been that niggling worry at the back of his mind: What had gone bang? And what made it happen? How was it possible to have an explosion from nothing?

Now it was the really fundamental problems of life and death that occupied his thoughts. He shook his head in annoyance.

I've seen death before,
he thought.
So why is it bothering me so much this time?

His mind ranged back over the times he had witnessed violent deaths: the madman who was shot near Kuranda; the dead Kosarian soldiers in the jungle behind Mt Baldy; the body found during the night exercise the previous annual camp that he had been asked to identify in Charters Towers.

Is there really a God?
he wondered.
And if there is, why does he allow such dreadful things to happen?

He was still pondering this when the door opened and the police constable came out. “Oh there you are. I wondered where you were. You'd better come inside again.”

Peter did as he was told and lay down, still reflecting on the existence of God and of the nature of death. Because of these morbid thoughts he was sure he wouldn't sleep but exhaustion helped. He dropped into a restless sleep, half nightmare.

At 0600 a different policeman woke them up. “Be ready by six thirty please. The Inspector wants to get your interviewing over. There is a shower next to the toilet at the back of the veranda.”

Capt Conkey sat up and groaned, then said: “Stephen, you go first, then the girls. Graham next. Peter last.”

Stephen stood up and went through to the shower. The others busied themselves rolling up their sleeping bags and packing.

Dean looked up from his pack. “What do we do for breakfast sir? Can we go to the shop?” he asked.

Capt Conkey turned to the constable. “Can we go out?”

The constable nodded. “Yes, just make sure we know where you are. But I don't like your chances of finding a shop open in Gordonvale this early.”

He was right. Graham and Dean went across the park and along the main street to look but found none. Peter decided he would heat a tin of something using his hexamine stove and carried his webbing out onto the back veranda.

The cold gave him a shock. An icy wind was blowing down the Mulgrave Valley from the Tablelands. “Holy Moses! That's a bit cool,” he commented.

Capt Conkey laughed and called through the door: “Katabatic wind off the Tablelands. They probably had a frost up there last night.” As he was their Geography teacher none of them wanted to ask him what sort of wind that was, being sure it was something they should have learned in class.

Gwen smiled. “I'm glad we aren't going up there then,” she said. Then she turned to Capt Conkey. “We aren't, are we sir?”

Capt Conkey laughed. “You won't know till you get there. Where you go is a secret.”

At that moment Stephen came back along the veranda, wiping his glasses on his towel. “Bloody glasses! They keep fogging up. We are going to Babinda aren't we sir?”

Again Capt Conkey laughed. “You might be. Depends how good your navigation is. You won't know till you get there.”

Babinda had been the favoured destination in their speculations ever since the hike had started; up the Mulgrave Valley to Little Mulgrave, then south along the main valley and across the saddle between Mt Bellenden Ker and Mt Bartle Frere was Stephen's guess.

Gwen came past and said: “Will we be allowed to go on with our hike sir? I mean after all this business yesterday?”

That was a new thought. Peter wondered if he wanted to, or if he just wanted to go home.

Capt Conkey looked up from lacing a boot. “Do you want to go on?”

Graham answered first. He was busy stirring a mess tin of sausages and onions over his stove. “I do.”