Double Take (17 page)

“Oh my.” She adjusted her curlers again. “I'm afraid to say I've been rather busy of late. So I haven't noticed anything going on. You do know it's been closed up since the '74 floods.”

“Yes, we're aware of that,” Thomas said.

Steel nudged forward on the chair. “Ethel, we have reason to believe a group of people are about to commit a serious offence and it's possible they've been using the shed as their meeting point. We need to get access. But to avoid being seen we need to do it from this side of the creek.”

“I don't understand how I can help.”

“We need to use your backyard to get down to the water.”

* * *

It was another hour before they had moved all their gear from the cars to the backyard. Thankfully it was fully fenced, keeping them fairly well hidden from prying neighbours.

By the time they had the rubber dinghy fully inflated, Steel was lathered in sweat and he felt as if he'd finished a boxing session, something he hadn't done in a bloody long time. His stomach was grumbling like crazy, too, and the fruitcake he'd accepted from Ethel had barely filled the void.

An unusual sound made him look up and he couldn't believe his eyes. Ethel was at the top of her back stairs surrounded by several other ladies, all jostling for a position on her tiny back porch.

“Shit,” he said. “Looks like she's invited the whole bloody bingo club.”

Steel climbed the stairs two at a time and the group of women shuffled backwards quick smart. He stepped into Ethel's kitchen and just about collided with five women in their nightgowns, all well into their autumn years, wide-eyed and fidgeting with excitement.

“Ethel, we told you this was a secret operation.” He noticed that she had removed her rollers and reapplied lipstick, red this time.

The group of ladies stifled giggles as Ethel looked up at him with her pale blue eyes. “These are my neighbours. I can assure you they'll keep it a secret.”

A couple nodded their agreement. This damn operation was beginning to resemble an episode of the Keystone Cops. “What on earth are you ladies doing up at this time of night anyway?”

“Having fun,” a taller lady at the back said, and they had another round of giggles.

“Okay.” He placed his hand on Ethel's shoulder and felt practically nothing but bone there. It reminded him of his mother. “You ladies can watch from up here. But I don't want to hear a peep from any one of you. Do you hear me? Once the boys and I go down to the creek, there'll be nothing more to see. So I want you all to head home then. Do you understand?” His biggest fear now was that the silly old buggers would try to follow them.

After a series of excited agreements, Steel turned his back on the cackling women and headed down the steps. The men now had the dinghy over the back fence and loaded up with the equipment. “Have your hands full there, boss?” Thomas asked.

“You're not kidding. Eighty-year-olds having a slumber party. That's a new one.”

Steel played his torch over the area. The moon was almost full, but with all this vegetation it was still nearly impossible to see. A small strip of cleared, level land skirted the fence but from there the ground dropped away steeply. The area beyond that deteriorated into mangy weeds and tall-bladed grass. Closer to the water it looked like a mass of dense shrubs and the occasional tree. The night was unusually still, not even a whisper of breeze, as if the trees were holding their breath. The silence was eerie and bloody unhelpful because every move they made seemed louder than it probably was.

“Looks as inviting as a mass suicide,” Steel said, as he stepped off the clearing and into the tangled lantana. Getting to the water was going to be harder than he'd hoped. They'd be lucky to get the dinghy down there without punching a hole in it.

“Need to get that boat up over your heads, boys.”

The men shifted the dinghy up to their shoulders, but walking with the boat up like that was difficult and, because they needed both hands to hold it, they couldn't use their torches. Together they moved like a herd of elephants in quicksand. Steel led the way, hoping his torch gave them enough light to see where they were going.

“Oh, shit!”

Steel turned and watched helplessly as Eden's feet slid from beneath him. Dropping his end of the boat, the rookie barrelled down the slope, ploughing through the scrub on his back. Just when Steel thought he was going to end up in the water, he grabbed hold of a tree.

But the tree exploded with a blood-curdling squeal as hundreds of screeching bats scattered into the sky. In a chain reaction, the surrounding trees also erupted, and soon thousands of black writhing creatures were silhouetted against the moon.

Hunched down with his hands over his head, Steel shone his torch up at the other three blokes, who had fallen over when Eden's sudden departure upset the balance. Now they were a jumble of arms and legs, trying to push the boat off while protecting themselves from the bats.

It was a couple of minutes before calm returned. Steel stood up and checked for Eden. The poor guy was making his way back up the embankment, and despite the minimal light Steel saw blood running down his left cheek.

“Nice job, Constable.” Thomas forced a whisper as soon as Eden was within earshot. “Not exactly the discreet entrance we're looking for.”

“Sorry. I slipped.” Eden wiped his cheek and the fear on his face multiplied.

“Let it go, Thomas.” Steel walked the couple of paces back up to the men. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Eden. “Hope that wasn't from the bats.”

Eden wiped away the blood. “I think it was the lantana, sir.”

Steel was beginning to second-guess their plan. He looked into the distance and could just make out the roofline of the boatshed through the thick trees on the other side of the creek. He checked his watch. Time was ridiculously tight, but setting up surveillance under the cover of dark was the only option. He sighed. This was their plan and it had better work.

“Let's get this over with before the fucking bats return.” Steel helped them lift the boat up. The rest of the journey to the water's edge was uneventful and they sighed in unison when they dropped the boat to the ground.

Mud on the embankment was still glistening wet from the recent outgoing water, indicating it was moving to low tide. Steel cursed himself for not checking the tide times before they left the station. Then again, the whole time he'd been sweating on the search warrant to enter the boatshed, he'd been scrambling left, right and centre to source the necessary equipment. If this operation came off without a hitch it'd be a miracle. He touched his pocket and fingered his lucky lure beneath the fabric.

“Maybe it's shallow enough to walk across,” Thomas said.

Steel shone the torch into the gravy-coloured creek water but it was impossible to see the bottom.

“This had better be worth it.” Thomas tossed a fist-sized rock into the water. It sounded like a marble dropping into a mud bath. “Did anyone think to check the tide times?”

As he'd thought, no-one had.

Thomas checked the equipment before they eased the boat into the water. He then held the boat steady as each of the men clambered aboard. Steel got in and moved to the back. As he waited he heard a couple of bats screeching in the distance and the hoot of an owl, but other than that, all was silent. With everyone now in, Thomas shoved off the embankment and jumped aboard.

The creek was only about twelve or so metres wide and they made short work of the distance with a couple of smooth paddles. At the other side Thomas tied the boat to a tree and they offloaded the gear. With the equipment divided up between them they scrambled through the vegetation up the slippery embankment. Steel quickly surveyed the area. He spied the outline of the shed's roof over the weeds. A giant willow tree at the far right corner of the land would make ideal cover. He signalled to Thomas and then, hunched over, he made a beeline for it. The men stayed close on his tail.

The tree's long drooping branches created a natural cave and enabled the men to eyeball the shed from a distance. The bright moon filtered through the willow's sinewy branches, creating a bizarre striped effect across their faces.

“Okay, it doesn't look like anybody's home, but until we're certain, stay sharp and keep quiet.” Steel glanced at his watch as the men around him put on their bulletproof vests.

“It's nearly two a.m. What time does the race start again?”

“Three p.m. Melbourne time,” Thomas said. “So two p.m. here.”

Twelve hours away from the race. And—hopefully—one of the most unusual arrests of his career, Steel thought. He still couldn't believe the scenario. To know a bank was about to be robbed, but be unable to do anything about it, ate at his conscience. Top that off with sitting and waiting for the robbers at their planned rendezvous point and the entire situation bordered on insanity.

Daily training at the gym kept Thomas notably fit and now in the sleeveless vest he looked even more pumped up. Steel slipped into his own vest and zipped it up. “Ready to rock'n'roll?”

“Ready,” they each replied in turn.

Thomas went first, taking measured steps through the dense underbrush. Steel stepped in behind him and glanced over his shoulder to note Eden and Shearer following him. Parker brought up the rear. In the distance the boatshed was dark and quiet. It appeared to be deserted. There was sufficient moonlight to see the shapes of shrubs and rocks on the ground as they stepped over them. Thomas arrived at the shed first and stood with his back against the wall. Soon they were all lined up beside him.

Steel felt the warmth of the day still emanating from the ancient weatherboards. Thomas signalled his intention to climb the back steps and then headed that way without a moment's hesitation. The bottom step protested loudly under his weight but after a moment's pause and no sign of movement from inside, he carried on up the stairs. He was quick to return.

“It's locked,” he whispered. “I'll check the front door. Shearer, come with me.”

Their feet crunched on the gravel as they made their way around the side, and with each step Steel became more certain that the shed had to be empty.

A short time later the two men returned. “The front door looks like the only way in. It has a padlock on the outside, so it's unlikely anyone's in there,” Thomas said.

Steel nodded.

“I should be able to pick the lock,” Shearer whispered.

Steel debated the possibilities in his mind: the warrant permitted them to enter the premises, but they'd have to be careful. “Okay. So let's get in there and see what we have. But don't touch anything. We leave the place exactly as we find it. If these guys suspect anything, they might abandon the boatshed altogether.”

Thomas led the way around to the front. Steel scanned the overgrown weeds as Shearer made short work of the lock. Steel was impressed. With his gun un-holstered and his torch ready, he braced for Thomas's charge inside.

“Police!” Steel and Thomas both yelled as they marched over the threshold. But it was unnecessary; a quick scan confirmed the room was empty. Steel holstered his gun and the others did the same.

Slivers of moonlight shone in through cracks in the woodwork, creating a haunting atmosphere. Steel played his torch beam around the room.

The shed was almost empty. The only furniture was a mismatched set of table and chairs and an old workbench that housed two cupboards. Steel shone the torch on the sturdy hardwood door that connected to the rear stairs and noticed the still-shiny padlock. He frowned.
What's the point of the two locks?
There was nothing of value in here. It didn't make sense. There was only one other very small room and it looked like it had originally housed a toilet but all that remained now was a hole in the floor where the sewerage pipe had once been. Steel moved the torch to the wall and was surprised to see a dusty collection of boating paraphernalia: ropes, paddles, engine parts, and various other bits and pieces.
You'd think someone would've taken these years ago.
When Steel shone his torch upwards, he was again surprised. Hanging from the rafters were two small wooden boats. It was as if the owners had simply walked out and abandoned the place.

It was clear that it would be impossible to hide anyone inside the shed. “What do you think?”

Thomas dumped his backpack onto the table. It sounded like it was full of concrete blocks. Despite how heavy it must've been, Thomas had handled it like it was stuffed with pillows. “Let's get the sound equipment set up and then we'll sort out where we all hide.” Thomas didn't bother to whisper this time.

“The most obvious place for the recorder is under this table. But that's not going to happen,” Steel said.

Thomas slapped his palm on the table, and even in the torch light Steel noted the dust build-up. Steel pondered the significance of the building. Based on its age, and the fact that apparently no-one had been here in a decade or two, he had no doubt that Jack had some kind of historical connection with the place. He couldn't have just stumbled upon it. Maybe—and this was a long shot—Jack's father had once worked here. He slotted that thought into his memory bank for further investigation.

Thomas shone his torch on the floor. “By the looks of these cracks, I reckon we'll be able to get good audio from downstairs. You blokes stay here,” Thomas said. “I'll check it out.” Thomas claimed one of the walkie-talkies and handed one to Shearer.

“I'll come with you.” Steel wanted to check out downstairs for potential hiding places. Thomas nodded and handed the other walkie-talkie to Steel.

Shearer reached for the Saber. “What channel?”

Thomas turned a knob at the top. “Channel one.”

A quick test confirmed they were working and Steel shoved the walkie-talkie into his pocket.