The Word of God Read online

“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

  Charmaine 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.”

  “I don’t,” Charmaine said, a distinct tremble audible in her voice.

  Dean nodded. “Nor do I,” he added.

  Stephen came out and dropped his webbing on the veranda. “Oh come on! Don’t be wimps!” he jibed.

  “Don’t call me names Stephen Bell!” Charmaine snapped.

  Stephen curled his lip. “I don’t know what you are getting heated about. You didn’t even climb the bloody Pyramid!” he retorted.

  “That will do!” Capt Conkey cut in. “If you want to go home we will arrange it. Anyway, the police may not allow you to continue the hike.”

  That was another worrying thought. Once again the fears engendered by the Devil Worshipper’s threat gripped at Peter’s stomach. He looked up at the Pyramid, the top of which was clearly visible above the roofs of the houses behind the police station. Were the Devil Worshippers still up there? Or were they now down here, lurking in the town somewhere? And would they really try to carry out their threat?

  At that moment Inspector Goldstein walked out onto the back veranda. Without even a good morning he snapped at Graham: “Kirk! Have you got that pistol?”

  “Yes sir.” Graham reached into his basic pouch and extracted the pistol. The sight of it made Peter’s blood chill again. He noticed Charmaine blanch visibly at the sight.

  Graham stood up and carried the pistol over and handed it butt first to the Inspector: “Weapon is at action sir, safety catch on and eight rounds in the magazine.”

  Inspector Goldstein gave a grunt of approval, took the gun and checked it, then beckoned to him. “You first. Let’s get this interviewing over, if you are ready Captain?”

  Capt Conkey had just begun to shave but he nodded and wiped his face and followed Graham and the Inspector into the building.

  Stephen shook his head. “Arrogant bastard!” he muttered towards the Inspector’s retreating back.

  Joy came back from the shower and seated herself with them. She looked fresh and rested and gave them all a cheery hello. Peter smiled and was gratified when she smiled back, then peeved when she also favoured Stephen with a smile. I must like her, he decided. He wasn’t a great one for the girls, not like Graham, who was a real ladies man. Normally he was very shy in their presence.

  Gwen went over to Graham’s stove. “His food will spoil. I will eat it.”

  That at least made them laugh. Gwen blushed. “I will cook him some more when he comes out again,” she hurriedly insisted.

  “Yes Goldilocks. Is it too hot, too cold, or just right?” Peter asked.

  They laughed again and that helped to ease the tension even more. Gwen settled to eating beside Joy. Megan went to the shower. Breakfast and interviewing went on. Peter had time to eat, shave and polish his boots before Graham came back out of the interview room. He gestured to the now clean mess tin beside his stove.

  Peter pointed to Gwen and said: “Sorry mate, but the fairies ate it while you were away.”

  Gwen smiled. “You have your shower Graham. I will have something ready for you when you come out.”

  Hmm! Peter mused. Is Gwen a bit sweet on Graham?

  Stephen was the next to be interviewed but was only gone about twenty minutes. It was 7:30 by then and Dean suggested they see if there was shop open by then. Peter and Stephen went with him, leaving Graham sitting beside Gwen, eating a stew she had heated. They walked along the street beside the sugar mill. Peter had visited the mill several times on school trips but never ceased to be impressed by the whole vast enterprise; the huge machines, the smooth organization, the noise, steam and aromas.

  “I love that smell,” he commented, breathing deeply the aroma of molasses and raw sugar.

  Dean wrinkled his nose. “Makes me sick. I think it’s awful.”

  Stephen chuckled. “That’s the smell of money,” he added.

  A sugar train went clanking slowly by. Both Peter and Stephen were keen operators of a huge model railway and they stared keenly at the details. Their model railway had a sugar mill on it, of which they were very proud, but their tiny model cane trains somehow did not quite capture the atmosphere of the real ones. Graham and their friend Roger were also members of the team owning the model railway, which was located under Roger’s house.

  On the far side of the park they found a shop which sold hamburgers and hot chips. Laden with these and bottles of soft drink they made their way back across the park to the police station. It was a lovely day; cool but with a clear blue sky; real North Queensland winter weather, the sort the tourists came in millions to enjoy.

  As they walked slowly along Peter looked keenly around. He had been to Gordonvale many times but never really looked at the place. The impression he always gained was of a quiet, stable, little community whose life was governed by the farming seasons and by the sugar mill, which dominated the town with its huge buildings and tall chimneys. Now he found his thoughts being driven along new channels.

  Do sleepy little towns engender boredom; which leads to perverse or deviant behaviour? Is this place a secret nest of Devil Worshippers; or did they come from Cairns? he wondered.

  The only people visible were a few pedestrians on the footpath along the main street and an old Aborigine on the other side of the park. It was hard to imagine how such a pretty and peaceful little place could harbour such evil.

  As they came out from under the large trees opposite the police station they were given a clear view of the Pyramid. Peter found his eyes drawn upwards and once again he shivered.

  Back at the police station they found that all the girls had bee
n interviewed. Gwen was quietly indignant. “Sexist pig!” she muttered, referring to Inspector Goldstein, “He hardly asked us any questions and just read out your statements and asked if we had anything to add.”

  “Oh well, he’s probably a bit sick of hearing the same story over and over,” Stephen replied.

  “Don’t you take his side Stephen!” Gwen snapped.

  “Keep your shirt on!” Stephen replied, giving a disarming grin. “It has been a long night, that’s all.”

  At that moment Capt Conkey, Inspector Goldstein and another detective came out. Capt Conkey called to them: “OK troops, gather round.”

  Inspector Goldstein took over: “We have interviewed you all now and I have decided you can go.”

  “So we were prisoners?” Gwen put in.

  Inspector Goldstein raised an eyebrow at the interruption, then went on. “I am going to insist you keep in touch with the police in case you are needed again but for the moment we do not require your presence anymore.”

  “Can we go home?” Charmaine asked.

  “Yes, if you wish. But remember what I said: you are not to mention any of this to anyone else until we say you may. It could jeopardize our investigations. That warning includes parents. Just tell them you helped rescue some inured bush walkers but because there is an on-going police investigation you are not allowed to say anything.”

  “Can we go on with our hike?” Graham asked.

  Inspector Goldstein smoothed his moustache. “Where are you going?”

  Graham shrugged. “We don’t know. Capt Conkey gives us clues along the way,” he replied.

  Capt Conkey smiled. “The next leg is up the Mulgrave Valley to Little Mulgrave,” he said. Stephen met Graham’s eye and he smirked an ‘I-told-youso’ look.

  Inspector Goldstein considered this. “Yes, that should be alright. Just stay in touch. Do you have mobile phones?”

  At that they all looked at Charmaine who blushed. Capt Conkey nodded and answered, explaining the army policy. “I will give them back their phones for safety,” he said. Then he looked at each in turn. “And make sure they are fully charged and then turned off. Don’t use them except for emergencies.”