Stephen swore quietly and began
to follow. They moved slowly and carefully, scouting as they had been trained
to do. Their eyes searched through the undergrowth ahead, then flicked down to
scan for dead sticks in their path. There was a fair amount of leaf-litter but
otherwise the track was clear.
On either side of the track the
ground dropped steeply away. Some of the jungle was very thick. In other places
it was relatively open. Roger strained his ears but could only hear the normal
jungle noises; wind in the leaves, an occasional bird, a few rustles in the
leaves as lizards scurried away. The most obvious noise was his own heartbeat which
seemed to boom like jungle drums. Roger swallowed. He was very scared. But he
couldn’t turn and go back now. ‘Stephen will despise me even more if I do,’ he
thought.
Off in the distance, in the
direction they were heading, Cockatoos began their raucous screeching. The two
boys stopped and looked at each other. Roger nodded with satisfaction. The men
must have disturbed the birds.
Reassured, Roger went on, Stephen
following reluctantly ten paces behind. The track curved left, then slightly
uphill and back to the right. At the curve a side track went off to the left.
Roger walked to it and looked.
This was an overgrown snig-track.
It went downhill very steeply. Stephen joined him. “We’d better not get lost.
We should make a sketch map,” he whispered.
Roger nodded. “I’ll scout. You
make the map.”
Stephen agreed. As a sergeant he
was better trained to do this. It was a skill Captain Conkey made the NCOs
practise every year. He pulled out notebook and pencil then took compass
bearings both ways along the main track then down the side track. After jotting
these onto a rough sketch he moved to follow Roger.
Roger went on along the main
track for another fifty paces. It continued to climb gently and curve back to
the left. As he reached the bend he froze. His heart thumped wildly and he had
to force himself to edge forward. He could see the back of the black car.
With rapid but cautious steps he
went across the track to the right and into the trees, making more noise than
he intended. From there he could also see the back of the Four-wheel Drive.
Both vehicles were parked on the track, one behind the other.
Moving very cautiously from tree
to tree he edged forward. He heard Stephen following and glanced back.
Stephen’s eyes asked the question. Roger shook his head.
No-one
in sight.
“Write down the make and number
of the Four-wheel Drive,” he whispered. Stephen nodded. He still had his
notebook in his hand. To get a clear view of the number plate they had to
creep
forward level with the black car and only five metres
from it.
By then Roger was sure no-one was
there but he kept moving cautiously just in case there was a guard somewhere
out of sight. They went on past the vehicles and within ten metres found
another track angling downhill on their right. It was also partly overgrown.
They crept into the V where the two tracks joined.
Roger peered through the bushes
along the main track. The reason why the vehicles were parked where they were
became obvious. A large tree had crashed across the main track. ‘Probably
blown down by that cyclone in February,’ Roger thought.
Waving Stephen to follow, Roger
stepped out onto the side track and looked down it. It was quite steep and
curved out of sight to the left. Stephen joined him and took a compass bearing.
As Stephen was writing it down
Roger’s heart seemed to stop. His hair stood up on the back of his neck. He
found he could not speak so grabbed at Stephen’s elbow.
Two men had appeared at the bend
in the track below them - men in black.
Roger kept his grip on Stephen
and pulled him sideways as he moved to the nearest big tree, on the downhill
side of the track. He thought he was going to be sick or faint but he managed
to somehow watch where he was going and keep his eyes on the men.
The boys slipped behind the big
tree and began retreating down the slope looking for better cover. Roger looked
around. There were no large trees for ten metres, just lots of small saplings,
then a wall of wait-a-while. He heard Stephen break a twig and turned to shake
his head and gave the signal to get down.
After another anxious look around
for better cover Roger crouched behind the biggest tree. This had a small
prickly palm at its base which gave some extra cover. He felt sure the men
hadn’t seen them because they had been searching the ground.
As he crouched there Roger
noticed that the tree had a thick layer of moss growing on it and a small liana
wound twice round it. He crouched, peering through the palm fronds, and tried
to control his trembling.
For a time he couldn’t see the
men but then he heard them. They were speaking in low voices in the foreign
language. Roger didn’t dare move. ‘I hope Stephen has a better hiding place
than me,’ he thought, breaking into a sweat of anxiety as he did.
Then he saw one of the men.
It was Bruno. He was carrying his
rifle and a shovel. Then the blond man came into view. Roger was surprised. The
man was wearing headphones and was using a metal detector which he waved low
over the ground along the sides of the track and around the trees on the other
side of the track. Roger also noted with a spasm of anxiety that the man was
wearing an automatic pistol on his belt.
The two men came closer and
closer, talking quietly and searching very carefully. From time to time one or
both would leave the track and search around the trees. Roger swallowed and
began to sweat. ‘If the men search this side of the track like that we must be
discovered,’ he thought anxiously. His mind filled with a desperate picture of
trying to run downhill through the jungle with bullets thudding into the trees
- and into him. He was quite sure the men would shoot them and would bury their
bodies in the jungle where they would never be found.
At that Roger nearly lost control
of himself. His vision went hazy with black dots dancing before his eyes and it
was with difficulty he controlled his bladder.
The men were quite close by this,
only ten metres away. There was a scuffling noise in the jungle behind Roger.
The blond man turned to look,
then
said something
before resuming his search. A wave of hot and cold swept over Roger. He heard
the scuffling again and risked a sideways glance.
It wasn’t Stephen, just a Scrub
Turkey. To his dismay he realised he could see the top of Stephen’s back behind
a small dead log.
‘Oh my God!
I hope they don’t see him,’
he prayed. Roger turned his head carefully to keep watching the men.
They were right opposite him now.
Only five paces away. He could see every detail and hear every word. The men
clearly weren’t enjoying themselves and obviously weren’t friends. Roger gained
the distinct impression the blond man was giving orders to Bruno.
Then the tree blocked them from
sight. Roger resisted the temptation to move. He waited till they had
gone on a few more metres up the track. Then he had to move. He found his legs
were starting to cramp.
‘I won’t be able to run,’ he
thought. Very slowly he eased himself around, moving leaves and twigs with his
fingers then shifting his feet. He ended up half leaning on the tree and half
kneeling but able to look around the other side of the trunk.
The two men kept searching until
they came to the track junction, which was only about twenty metres away. Roger
could just see them. When they got there they stopped searching and stood
together in the middle of the track. The blond man took off the earphones and
pulled out his cigarette packet and lit a cigarette. They began to talk,
looking idly around.
Roger heard a faint rustle behind
him. He looked back and saw Stephen cautiously lift his head to peer over the log.
Roger met his eyes and shook his head while pointing to where the men were.
Stephen nodded and lay still.
Roger was in a real state. If the
men searched their side of the track the same way they had just searched the
other they must be found. ‘Should we try to creep away?’ he wondered. After a
careful study he decided it could not be done without them being seen or heard.
They would have to take the risk and stay.
WHAT ARE THE MEN SEARCHING FOR?
Roger eased himself around into a
more comfortable position so that he was sitting with his side against the
tree. Very slowly he stretched and rubbed each leg. The two men made no move
to leave. As the tension eased Roger became bored. He shivered. An occasional
rustle indicated that Stephen was also changing position.
As the minutes ticked by a new
worry came to Roger. He looked at his watch. It was a quarter past three; over
an hour since Graham and Peter set out for the Forestry Barracks. ‘They must
surely be back by now,’ he thought unhappily. ‘They will be worrying about
where we are.’
He risked another look. Bruno had
sat down but otherwise nothing was changed. Was it possible they could sneak
away undetected? There was doubt and that made Roger stay where he was. He saw
Stephen peering at him. From his eyes and a pointed finger Roger guessed
Stephen was thinking the same thing. He shook his head emphatically.
More time passed. Roger became
bored and stiff. The sweat dried and he realised he was thirsty. A noise in the
leaves caught his attention. A large centipede was trekking along but it wasn’t
headed for him so he ignored it. The call of a whip-bird sounded down the
slope. A tree trunk rubbed against another as the wind moved it. It was all
very peaceful.
The sound of different voices
roused Roger. He looked up through the trees and saw the other two men appear.
They joined the blond man and Bruno. A discussion began which Roger could hear
quite clearly but of which, because of the language, he could not understand a
word.
What was plain was that the old
man with the hard face was the boss. It was also obvious there was
disagreement. The blond man pointed down the side track with emphatic gestures
and did a fair amount of gesticulating. Bruno and the man with glasses made
almost no contribution.
It then occurred to Roger that
this was their chance to creep away. He looked around to check the best route.
It would have to be downhill South West, which was away from the road. Stephen
had his head up and was watching the men. Roger was about to attract his
attention when the men began a real argument.
The old man began to shout. Roger
was so astonished at the reaction of the other three men that his withdrawal
plan slipped out of his head.
The three men had formed a single
line and stood at attention!
The old man continued to speak
but lowered his voice. It sounded pretty venomous whatever it was. Roger
studied the situation anew. The men had heads up, shoulders and elbows back and
their hands flat against their trousers, fingers pointing down, as though they
were soldiers being dressed down by an angry superior.
It was so unexpected in that
context Roger actually gaped. Who were these men? Or, what were these men? And
what were they doing here in the Danbulla State Forest? Searching for
something that was buried Roger assumed.
But what?
The old man snapped a command and
the other three relaxed their positions. The blond man dug into a pocket in his
trousers and extracted a plastic bag with various articles in it. One of these
was a notebook. It was taken out and the older man carefully read it.
Roger could clearly see the lines
of concentration on their faces. Then both men took out compasses and took
bearings which seemed to be off to his right. A map was opened and studied.
There was more discussion. This ended abruptly with the old man turning and
walking back the way he had come. The other men followed, the blond man first
shrugging and pulling a wry face to Bruno behind the old man’s back.
The four men detoured through the
rainforest around the roots of the fallen tree. For a moment this brought them
clearly into view through a gap in the trees. To Roger’s relief they vanished
from sight over a low knoll.
Stephen rose to his knees, then
to his feet, brushing leaves off as he did so.
“Let’s get out of here,” he
hissed.
Roger shook his head. “I want to
see where they go.”
“Don’t be stupid Roger. If you
get seen...” Stephen didn’t finish the sentence. Neither said anything
for a moment but Roger was determined.
“I’ll be OK,” he said.
“You’re mad.
Besides
Graham and Peter will be wondering where we are.”
“Then you go back and tell them.”
“No. That’s even sillier. We must
stay together. Come on!” Stephen replied.
“No. I’m going to follow them,”
Roger said with finality. He began walking uphill through the jungle. Stephen
shook his head and swore softly, took off his glasses and cleaned them, put
them on, then followed.