Blood Prize (29 page)

T
he passenger door opened and a gust of inrushing air stung Vogel’s face. Within seconds the moisture lubricating his eyes seemed to evaporate making their movement feel scratchy and sore.

I’m breathing hot sand instead of air. How can anyone stand to live here?

As he descended the steps to the tarmac he could see his man waiting for him.

“Captain, your report.”

“They survived the crash, sir. The local police confirmed that four people left the aircraft. The descriptions fit Fox, the girl, Noah and also the priest.”

“What happened to the Pilot?”

“He’s tied up in the hangar with the police.”

“And our fugitives have transport?”

“They took one of the police four-wheel drive vehicles, but none of the men saw what direction they took.”

Vogel looked on in amusement as the small group of policemen left the hangar.

Useless … They deserve a bullet. How could they stuff this up?

Their anger and frustration seemed like a fitting reward for their stupidity.

“Captain. Tell our sergeant of police that this is over. They are to forget that this ever happened. Let it be known that they’ll be well compensated for their misadventure.”

“And the pilot?”

“Leave him as he is. I have questions and I’m going to make sure I get answers.”

Apart from the pilot and his own team of men, the airport remained deserted. Several regular scheduled flights to Longreach flew out of Brisbane, but not for several hours, leaving him free to begin interrogations without having to be worried about civilians. He entered the largest of the maintenance hangars and approached the pilot.

“Do you know who I am?”

The flight captain nodded.

“You have knowledge that I require. So, I’m going to arrange a small demonstration to save time.”

Vogel gestured towards his own captain.

“Shoot him in the leg.”

Vogel enjoyed the man’s fear. The pilot’s eyes bulged, as he began to beg for an unlikely deliverance.

“No. No … Please …”

The blast sounded thunderous in the confines of the hangar. It reverberated around the tin walls of the shed where it merged with the high-pitched screams of a totally convinced pilot.

“Stop moaning and shut up. I’m going to ask you a couple of questions. If I don’t like the answer, you get another bullet. Understand?”

The pilot tried to respond between gasps for breath. His nod of ascent so vigorous it caused Vogel to laugh.

“Alright … Alright. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

_____________

The secretary saluted his superior and stiffened to attention.

“Vogel’s military aircraft is on the tarmac, sir. What should I tell our pilot?”

Wolf concentrated on a map of the Raptor Park site and didn’t look at the private as he spoke.

“Are you in contact with the local sergeant of police?”

“It appears that Vogel used him, sir.”

“I’ll have the full report later. For now, just fill in the dots.”

The secretary explained Vogel’s tactics and how he manipulated the police.

“He commandeered a fully fuelled police four-wheel drive from their headquarters. It has a police scanner, so he can monitor their activity. They headed north-west on the highway towards Winton.”

Wolf nodded without taking his attention away from the map.

“Instruct the pilot to land immediately. After drop off, he’s to fly east to Rockhampton and await further orders. I also want our helicopters here ASAP.”

“There’s one more thing, sir. We have confirmation that the mystery woman landed briefly in Albury and took on two passengers. A man and what the flight controller assumed to be an injured woman.”

“And their destination?”

“It looks like they’re on this course.”

“Well get going. I want updated reports of her progress. I also want estimated arrival times for our helicopters, updated every five minutes. It’s imperative that we tighten our net. No-one gets in and no-one slips through. No-one.”

T
he fugitive G11 team continued to speed north-west along the Landsborough Matilda Highway, travelling parallel to the rail line. Tom counted six railway stations since leaving Longreach, all with dull yellow one-room buildings and minimal platform space.

The station names: Darr, Payne, Morella, Rimbanda, McMaster and Chorregon, hung above the door frame of each building.

“This’s Chorregon Station. Go left here.”

Noah turned off the main highway and headed west onto a dirt road towards Maneroo Creek and their final destination.

In places their vehicle’s suspension jolted and vibrated over the rough corrugated track and between bumps, Tom managed to look over at Isobel. Somehow she read from the diary and relayed a steady flow of unhelpful information, as if she sat in her home on a comfortable couch. The current story related the failure of the professor’s last expedition, which attempted to find an elusive carnivore.

“Apparently this thing lived in the late Cretaceous, about ninety-five million years ago; a Tyrannosauropus species, which he thought to name Manerooasaurus.”

Tom didn’t feel enthused by Isobel’s scientific fervour. It might have taken his mind off their inevitable confrontation, but any budding interest in palaeontology required them surviving the next couple of hours.

Despite the bumpy ride, their new road proved to be serviceable. They made good time, shaking and bouncing their way past the remnants of Clyde Cattle Station and on through the dry beds of Alice and Maneroo Creeks. They couldn’t have been more obvious, trailing long clouds of dust as they went.

In the middle of the Maneroo Flood Plain, they turned south towards the junction of Spring and Sancho Creeks. Here they left the road and headed further east on a rougher track towards Raptor Park.

Tom studied the area. To the north and west, he identified the sparsely wooded Forsyth Range. It rose with just enough elevation to funnel what little precious rain they received; redistributing it into the mostly-dry creek beds that flowed south into larger and more permanent water supplies.

“Hey, Iz. Look at that.”

Isobel ignored him; continuing to relay segments of the diary, but Tom’s attention focused elsewhere as he scanned the road ahead.

“Iz … Look. It’s a mob of red kangaroos. They’re bounding across the road up in front.”

“That’s great, Tom. Now listen, this’s important and relevant. Millions of years ago, this place became a swamp. Apparently, herbivores got caught in the mud here. This whole place became a trap for big dinosaurs.”

“This’s relevant …?”

He saw her pursed lips and the subtle shake of her head and decided to concentrate.

“The trapped animals attracted the carnivores, who followed the smell of decaying flesh, but here’s the catch. The killers got caught in the mud when they tried to feed on them. That’s why your father named the area, specifically around the dig site, the Raptor Trap.”

Tom knew her tone implied a question, but he chose to remain silent. The scenario seemed a little too poignant and horribly ominous.

“We’re like the herbivores, Tom. We’re in the trap surrounded by the raptors.”

“Thanks, Isobel. I’ll slit my wrists now and save them the trouble.”

His attention shifted as he looked out the window, scrutinising the baked earth of present day, outback Queensland.

She’s right. Wetland or not, the raptors are coming and we’re just as stuck.

An image of them all, hip-deep in mud flashed into his mind, with Vogel and the SRP circling; readying themselves for the kill.

Once more he became aware of Isobel’s monotone ramblings.

“Alright, Tom. Here’s something. The hidden chamber where your father first discovered the suits eventually became sealed by time.”

“So?”

“So … It proves the suits came here millions of years before we even existed, and because we’ve found no evidence of any interim culture, it’s more than probable that this technology got transported here by an alien people. The diary also states that the cavern walls are crusted with up to five hundred centimetres of a blackened substance, not found anywhere else on Earth. It does however, infer a crash site.”

“Alright, you’ve definitely got my attention.”

He looked into her eyes and attempted to smile an apology.

How could he be so obsessed with such a tiny being? Everything about her made him ache and burn and swell; the shape of her slim hips, the tiny white hairs on her otherwise smooth skin, the sound of joy in her laugh; each a wonder.

She makes me shiver just looking at her. Does it really matter if she looks like my mother; a beautiful woman I never met?

He understood that God instilled beauty in all of creation. He also realised that discernment played a big part in its realisation. With Isobel’s beauty, it felt like he journeyed across space and time, just so he could watch her lips move. In finding her, he understood that a great love coloured perception with the ultimate beauty.

Yeah, but … she could be my sister.

How could he find out without making a dick of himself? Noah and the priest knew his parents. They must know something.

Her look jolted his focus away from the form and curve of her eyebrows, back to a reality, where men destroyed women like her without the slightest bit of compassion.

“I thought you said you’re all ears? Tom?”

“I’m listening … What happened to these aliens? Did they find any remains after the crash?”

“Oh yes. It appears they stored their equipment and your father found several bodies laid out in a neat row, so at least one must have survived the crash. That’s the only clue.”

“So the Prize is definitely alien?”

“Alien, yes. These creatures looked like humans in basic appearance, yet huge and with an intelligence that we can’t begin to understand.”

The priest turned in his seat and joined the conversation; his smile appearing sour and a little frightening.

“Your father discovered that the suits they wore remained alive after the crash and managed to stay that way for millions of years, without any means of sustenance. He also discovered that each suit exhibited a high level of intelligence, which he presumed, reflected the intellect of each alien individual.”

He stopped and took a breath before continuing.

“This is why fitting them to humans, created problems. Once on, the suits took over the wearer’s consciousness. They literally regrew the new inhabitant’s tissue, towards predetermined alien dimensions, including a massive expansion of brain capacity.”

Tom felt a jolt of fear as he listened to the priest’s explanations.

No. No. No … I’m leading all of these people to their deaths.

Tom’s mouth hung open, as he considered the priest’s words. He well remembered his encounter with the Angel. His chest still burnt from the ordeal.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Isobel.

How could he risk her life so recklessly? How could he ever hope to win against such an indestructible monstrosity?

R
éz Cel Rău knew that the pilots watched her undress from the cockpit. Nakedness never bothered her and she couldn’t care less about the staff.

In truth, she loved life stripped bare; the place where true savagery lived without need for concealment.

Once someone finds that truth deep within them, naked violence becomes their reality … Their true nature … My nature.

The thought made her pulse increase as she strolled into the cockpit in her cotton sports underwear; her face smeared green and black with camouflage paint and her curly auburn hair pulled into a tight ponytail, all of which made her appearance seem severe.

Now for a little fun.

She knew her tight underwear accentuated her long, muscled body. She also knew that the leanness of her frame, more than emphasised the perky fullness of her breasts. She liked them to want her, but more so to fear her. She loved to see it in their eyes; raw desire and naked terror.

“Give me our estimated time of arrival.”

Both pilots looked nervous.

“Fifteen minutes only. You’d best get ready.”

“Don’t presume to tell me my business. Just do as you’re told.”

Réz smiled; recognising their apprehension. Both men stared straight ahead and avoided any eye contact; having worked for Cardinal Dal Santo, they would well know her reputation.

“Madam. What you’re asking is illegal and very dangerous, we …”

“You will do what I ask. You will land on the highway at Chorregon Station, just long enough to unload our equipment. Then you’ll fly to Mount Isa, refuel and wait to be contacted. Is that understood?”

“Yes, but there might be traffic.”

“Are you defying me?”

“No, certainly not, but …”

“There will be little traffic on the road at this hour and you’ll have a visual in both directions.”

“Yes. I suppose I …”

“Good. This is not a matter for argument. It will be done and it will be done perfectly.”

_____________

Bruno Wolf possessed a well-practised smile which he used to hide the darkness of his inner being.

The good people of the world don’t need to know what I do for a living.

For years he fought against his inclination for brutality. Its violent urges became his personal hell. Then an idea occurred to him. Why fight it? Why not put his abilities to good use. Organisations existed that honoured his kind of skill set, legitimising them behind a business-like facade.

His idea became his life. The Assembly’s SRP program turned him from villain to valuable company asset. Surrounded by other like-minded people, he soon learnt he didn’t need to justify his actions or show the slightest remorse.

His ferocity gave rise to another aspect of his nature, which he thought of as raw cunning. His ability to think under pressure and act ruthlessly made for a dramatic rise within SRP ranks.

Twelve years of meticulous planning and a lot of bodies is all it took, but he knew if he didn’t get this mission right, it could all end here.

“No mistakes … No tears.”

As part of his strategy he made contact with all of his pilots, insisting that each captain recite the plan back to him for confirmation. He also spoke to all of the leaders of his elite SRP squad, keeping them informed and motivated.

I’m ready.

His team waited, all in perfect position. He also knew both Vogel’s and the G11’s current locations. The unknown woman caused him a minor concern, so he left two men at Longreach airport with orders to disable the aircraft and to kill all on board.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Wolf waved the man away.

“Not now, I’m busy.”

“Sir, it’s the woman. She’s overtaken us.”

“What …? Impossible. How?”

Droplets of sweat appeared on the secretary’s forehead as he attempted to answer.

“They didn’t land at Longreach, sir. They changed course and passed us to the south after we landed. They’re heading straight at the target area, but surely they can’t land. It’s a business jet and there are no airports.”

“There’s more than fifty kilometres of straight highway you idiot. Go back to the cockpit and follow their movements. Report everything, don’t assume. Now get out.”

They’re doing a drop. She’s going to suffer for her audacity.

_____________

Réz Cel Rău strode out of the cockpit and entered a compartment at the far end of the aircraft. On a makeshift bed lay the lithe, naked body of a severely bruised and lacerated woman.

As she approached, she watched the doctor apply ointments to the cuts on the woman’s cheeks. Réz studied the raked gashes on her sister’s face. Her flesh looked torn and swollen.

“Am I that hideous, Réz?”

“The bullets caused only flesh wounds, my sweet. You’ll heal well enough.”

“I’m going with you. I’m still strong.”

Réz left the room with the doctor. She knew her sister’s determination and needed confirmation before she made a decision.

“Your assessment, Doctor?”

“Apart from the wound stitching, I’ve filled the remaining lesions with a special, new kind of ointment. It’s a jelly-like substance which seals the affected area and acts like a second skin, preventing further bleeding and hopefully any reopening. It will also minimise the chance of infection. I have prescribed a non-drowsy high dosage form of pain control, so that Uta will remain sharp and motivated if required.”

Réz heard Uta call out from behind her.

“I told you, my love. I’m just fine; battle hard and ready.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m not staying here. I’m going. The SRP are about to get a lesson in guerrilla warfare.”