Hauptman Ritnik grinned. “He
wants to know where his friends are. He has lost contact with them. Ah! There.”
Closer to them, but still off to
their left rear, came an answering voice.
Inspector Sharpe nodded. “Keep
moving. We must put more distance between us and them,” he ordered.
They resumed their slow movement.
The compass bearing led them down into a vine-choked re-entrant. The sound of
yelling faded in the distance. Roger began to relax somewhat but the effort of
moving through the tangled undergrowth took all his energy. He felt very tired
and hungry. At the bottom of the re-entrant was a small creek. By common
consent they halted to have a drink. The rain stopped but constant dripping
continued. Graham refilled his water bottles.
“I think we have lost them for
the moment,” Inspector Sharpe murmured, pocketing his pistol.
“I think they have lost
themselves, from what they were saying,” Hauptman Ritnik replied.
Inspector Sharpe nodded. “That
would be easy in this country without a map and a compass. I hope we aren’t
lost too. Do you know where we are young Kirk?”
“Yes sir, here,” Graham replied.
He was clearly not amused. Roger knew he took great pride in being both a good
bushman and a good navigator.
Inspector Sharpe studied the map
and cleared his throat, aware of Graham’s resentment. “Which way do you think
we should go?” he asked.
Graham pointed on the map as the
others crowded around. “Well sir, it’s only a kilometre to open forest out to
the west. We could walk out there and detour right around the jungle to either
the north or the south. I would say go north, to where all these roads join up
here, behind Mt Baldy.”
They considered this. “That is
about ten kilometres before we get anywhere near a house where we might find a
telephone,” Inspector Sharpe mused. “Wouldn’t it be better to go east down to
these farms at Carrington? That is only about three kilometres and downhill.”
“Might be sir, but it is all
jungle; and we’d have to cross the road,” Graham replied.
“More chance of
them seeing us in the open country than of us being spotted crossing the road
surely?”
Stephen said.
Graham nodded. “Stay in the
jungle then. Head North West up this ridge, then North east back
up
this crestline. We should be able to cross the road
there,” he said.
“That’s what I think too,”
Inspector Sharpe agreed. “There are about five kilometres of road and it’s got
as many curves as a snake. These partisans can’t watch it all. They can’t have
that many men. Are you up to a march like that Hauptman Ritnik?”
Roger looked at the Hauptman. He
appeared very pale and was in obvious pain. A thin trickle of blood was running
down the side of his face. He shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. Get His Royal
Highness to safety; and the briefcase. You can leave me and come back for me
later.”
Peter spoke up: “We could leave
you all here and two or three of us, the fittest, could go for help.”
Inspector Sharpe considered this,
then
shook his head. “No, we will stay together. Are
you confident of your navigation young Kirk?”
“Yes sir. But I will use map to
ground and only use the compass as a guide or we will do a lot of up and down
as any compass bearing is going to cut across more of these re-entrants.”
“If you reckon you can do it then
OK. Let’s get moving. I’m getting cold; and there’s another bloody leech!”
Inspector Sharpe plucked the leech from his sleeve and flung it aside. He glanced
at his watch. “Not even midday.”
Roger looked at his and saw it
was only 11:45.
Peter said, “Sir, won’t these
partisans just clear out now
they
know the police are
involved? Won’t your men be surrounding the area?” he asked.
Inspector Sharpe nodded. “You
would think so but I suspect their political masters might have given them
orders to get the prince, regardless.”
Prince Peter agreed. “You are
right. They are playing for high stakes and a diplomatic row with a country as
distant as Australia would be the least of their worries. While I live I am a
rallying point for all Kosarians who believe in freedom. These men are just
pawns. They are expendable.”
Hauptman Ritnik nodded agreement.
“You are right Your Highness. The communists will have some hold over the men
they have sent here, some way of blackmailing them. That is how they operate;
by terror and coercion.”
“Who are these partisans?”
Stephen asked. “Weren’t the partisans the guerrillas who fought the Germans?”
“Yes they were,” Prince Peter
answered. “They were the army of liberation. They kept the name after the war
because of its prestige value. They are now just the communist regular army,
the Kosarian Partisans- KOSPARS for short.”
“This will be a special unit,”
Hauptman Ritnik added.
Peter gave a wry grin. “Not too
special if they’ve got lost,” he suggested.
“Perhaps they have been rushed
here without any special training and without enough maps. Besides, all their
experience will have been in pine forests. There is nothing like this jungle in
Kosaria,” Hauptman Ritnik replied.
“How many of them do you reckon
there are?” DS Crowe asked.
Hauptman Ritnik thought for a
moment.
“At least a platoon.
That is thirty six men
:-
three squads and a HQ. Could be more,” he replied.
“How did they get here?” Stephen
wondered.
Inspector Sharpe said, “Enough
speculation. Let’s get moving.”
Led by Graham they set off up a
steep slope thick with wait-a-while. They heard no more of their pursuers. The
cloud thinned out and a watery sun could be glimpsed overhead. Roger began to
feel hungry and regretted not having grabbed his own webbing. He had missed
breakfast and now he would miss lunch as well!
After about two hundred metres
they came out onto an overgrown snig track which ran up a spur line.
Graham pointed left along it. “It
will probably go all the way to the top of this twelve hundred and eleven metre
feature,” he said. “It will be easier going.”
“Not safer though,” Inspector
Sharpe replied.
“Quicker and
quieter.
That
is safer sir,” Graham replied. “There is sure to be an old track on the
crestline running parallel to the main timber road.”
“OK. Go up it then but take it
slow and keep your eyes peeled.”
For Roger the next hour was
agony. The group slogged slowly uphill through thick jungle with Graham in the
lead. The old snig track was frequently blocked by masses of wait-a-while which
they had to detour slowly around. The cloud closed in so they were enveloped in
gloomy mist but there was no more rain. Roger alternately shivered and sweated.
His leg muscles ached and his right knee developed a hot little pain on every
second step. The direction he noted was roughly North East.
Ahead of him Hauptman Ritnik
struggled gamely on but he was obviously tiring and started to weave and
stagger a lot. Suddenly he slumped against a tree, shoulders heaving. Then he
slid down into a crumpled heap.
“Stop!
Stop!”
Roger hissed urgently. Peter heard him and passed it on. The group came to a
standstill and the leaders came back. Roger and Peter moved the Hauptman into a
more comfortable position. He was conscious but his eyes looked unfocused.
“I...I just...need a small rest,”
he croaked.
Inspector Sharpe looked at his
watch. “Twelve thirty. OK. We will rest for half an hour.”
Roger sat down on the sodden
leafmould and leaned against a tree. He felt exhausted. While he sat there he
watched as Peter and Prince Peter checked the Hauptman’s bandages. The bandage
around his head was now an ugly dark red, indicating that it had begun to bleed
again. Roger shivered and looked around. He noted that Inspector Sharpe’s good
leather shoes were very muddy, and that he had squashed a large leech on his
sock at the ankle. The sight reminded Roger to search himself for more leeches.
Finding none he leaned back and closed his eyes.
Peter shook him awake. “We are
moving sleepy head. Come on.”
Roger groaned and rubbed his
eyes. He was shivering and stiff. A glance at his watch told him he had slept
for over an hour. It was nearly 2pm.
The group resumed its upward
slog. Roger joined Peter in helping Hauptman Ritnik who had gone so pale he was
blue around the mouth. Fits of shivering wracked the Hauptman’s body.
After about twenty minutes
Stephen and DS Crowe took over helping the Hauptman. The Inspector was helping
the Prince, who also looked very pale and drawn. Roger found it took all his strength
to haul himself slowly up the slope. The cloud still enshrouded them and even
though it was only mid-afternoon it was dark and gloomy.
It wasn’t until ten past three
that they reached the top of the mountain. Without a word they all flopped down
to rest. Roger saw Graham and the two policemen crouching over the map but he
felt too tired to care. He wiped sweat off his face and wished he had something
to eat. A silent curse was offered up to the soldier who had taken his jelly
beans.
After half an hour they moved on.
Roger and Peter took over helping Hauptman Ritnik. They walked on either side
with his arms over their shoulders. He was so weak they were almost dragging
him along. There was a smear of fresh blood down his face and neck. The smell
and feel of wet clothes and sweaty bodies, combined with apprehension over the
seeping wound, made Roger feel nauseous.
At least their route now went
downhill along another overgrown track heading North West. After half a
kilometre they curved North East along a wide, flat crestline. In this part of
the jungle there seemed to be very little wait-a-while and very few vines.
Instead the undergrowth comprised masses of waist high palms. There were
numerous huge rotting tree trunks, presumably blown down in a storm as they
were torn out by the roots, not cut down.
There was an occasional glimpse
through gaps in the foliage and the drifting cloud which showed other jungle
covered peaks and ridges. These caused Graham to take compass bearings and to
peer closely at his map with a lot of lip-biting and head-shaking. Roger was
glad Graham was navigating. He had great faith in him but realized there were
times when his resentment at his friend’s fitness and cheerful zest for
adventure amounted almost to hatred.
After half an hour of slow
shuffling the ridge began to rise and progress slowed even more. A track went
off downhill to the right. Inspector Sharpe pointed down it but Graham shook
his head and continued on up the slope.
Another fifteen minutes of
snail-like pace went by. Then Graham held up his hand to signal halt. He put
his finger to his lips and pointed down to his right. Roger got a glimpse of
the main dirt road, about fifty metres away. Graham continued moving, angling
around the slope to his left. After a time he circled back to the right. It was
hard going as there was no track and the way was obstructed by half a dozen
fallen trees and outcrops of rocks festooned with ferns. Roger felt so tired
and cold he was almost past caring. He had Hauptman Ritnik’s arm around his
shoulder and was aware the Hauptman was barely conscious and was stumbling
along like a zombie, murmuring and groaning from time to time.
Roger began to loathe the rain
forest. He was sick of being closed in; sick of having to push through it, of
having to clamber over or around things. He hated the dankness, the leeches,
the prickly plants, the bloody vines which always seemed to snag. ‘I don’t
think I can go on much longer,’ he thought miserably.
Then, just when he was on the
trembling, shameful edge of giving up Peter signalled to halt. “OK Roger. Stop
for a break,” he murmured.
They lowered Hauptman Ritnik onto
the wet leaves and eased their painful limbs. Graham, Prince Peter and the two
policemen went into a whispering huddle. Stephen just slumped down and tried to
wipe moisture off his glasses. He looked thoroughly miserable. ‘How I feel,’
Roger thought. He noted they were on what appeared to be a flattish hilltop at
another old timber track. He saw Graham get up and take the rifle from DS Crowe.
Graham then headed off down the track to the right, rifle at the ready. He
vanished silently from sight, his camouflage uniform blending perfectly with
the mottled light and shade of the jungle.
Despite his fatigue Roger
wondered where Graham was going. He could see that Inspector Sharpe did not
look too happy about it. Thick cloud drifted in to give the semi-darkness an
extra dimension of eeriness. Roger rubbed sore muscles and moved gingerly to
ease thighs chafed by wet cloth. He was cold and worn out and was very thirsty
as well as hungry.
Hauptman Ritnik groaned. Roger
groaned as well. He was tired of caring for Hauptman Ritnik. Reluctantly he got
up and knelt to feel his pulse. Next he placed the back of his hand on the
Hauptman’s cheek. It was like ice, and his pulse was very feeble.