Marked (20 page)

“I’m heading out to sea. Soon as we’re past the inshore islands, we should be able to pick up Cooksville’s lights, and then we can turn and head for them.” I nudged the throttle lever forwards slightly to trim the boat onto a better planing angle. “Your phone still okay? What about giving it a try? There’s probably coverage out here.”

She took her hand from my shoulder and fumbled in her front pocket. But I could tell she wasn’t keen. “Don’t want to try Blissy. Scared someone else might answer.”

“Just call emergency.”

I could see her shaking her head. “I don’t know what to tell them. They’re not going to understand–”

“It doesn’t matter what we tell them,” I said. “We need to get the cops out. Tell them these guys are
shooting
at us.”

She fiddled with the phone for a moment, put it to her ear and then held it out to me. “You talk to them.”

It wasn’t worth arguing so I took it from her. There was plenty of interference, probably from the motor, but I could hear it ringing. Finally, a man’s voice answered.

“
Fire, police, or ambulance
?”

“Police,” I said. “We need the police.”

“
One moment
.”

There was a click, a brief ringing tone and then another voice, this time a woman. “
Police. Where is your emergency
?”

The phone beeped in my ear. Battery warning? “Cooksville,” I said, speaking loudly. “Near Cooksville, Coromandel Peninsula …
beep
… we’re in …”

“
Your name please
?”

“My name?”

“
We need your name … I’m calling Cooksville police now
.”

Beep
. “Cully Dalfour–” The connection broke and there was silence. The symbol on the screen showed an empty battery.

“Bugger!” I looked up at Kat’s outline against the sky. She was standing beside me, holding the rail with one hand. “No battery.”

She took the phone from me and looked at it. “Shit! What now?”

“We don’t have any choice. We’ve got to get to Cooksville. The operator said she was calling Cooksville police, but they won’t know what they’re looking for.”

Behind us, in the distance, we could still see the Pajero’s lights, moving now, blinking as they passed behind trees on the road. They were heading back up the hill – towards Cooksville. We should get there long before they did. But what if they had someone there already?

I imagined approaching the marina in darkness, wondering if Leatherman’s friends were lying in wait. “There are a few boats anchored in the estuary. If we can find one with someone on board, maybe we could go alongside. Get them to call the cops.”

Kat bent down to my ear. “But what if …?” She stopped. “God, I wish I knew where Blissy was.”

“Yeah.” There were lots of things to wish for. Mostly that none of this was happening. I changed course slightly, veering away from the island we were passing on our left. Its shape was moving quickly against the sky, so I knew we were too close inshore. Steering a boat in nearly total blindness through strange waters is really scary.

Suddenly, the darkness was gone, and we were staring into the dazzling beam of a spotlight. It was another boat, rounding the tip of the island and moving at speed across our bow.

And then, just as suddenly, the light was switched off, leaving us both struggling to refocus our eyes on the blackness ahead.

“Who d’you think that is?” Kat’s voice was high, cracked and wavering. She knew. “Can you see where they went?”

“No.” I’d lost them completely. No idea if they were still ahead of us. They could easily have doubled around behind. “It can’t be the cops. Not unless someone else called them out.” I felt hollow inside, fear gripping every muscle. “It’s more of the same bastards. Gotta be.” I pressed my eyes shut tightly. Made no difference in the dark, and I opened them again.

We’d almost made it, and now
this
.

“They must’ve had another boat as backup. What’re we gonna do?” Kat was feeling around on the floor, and when she stood up again, I knew she was holding the shotgun.

“Dunno. I can’t even see them.” I was panicking. We only had seventy horsepower and the other boat had been moving fast. I thought they’d have a lot more grunt than we did. “We’ll have to try and outrun them – but it’s hopeless.”

I rammed the throttle forwards and we leaped ahead, Kat grabbing for the seat as she lost balance. The motor was howling, the hull porpoising slightly as Cooksville’s lights came into view and we swung around the tip of the island, fleeing for safety. But the spotlight stabbed at us again.

“Behind us!” Kat was screaming in my ear over the engine noise. “They’re coming up behind!”

“Get down! Don’t look at the light!” I yelled. “They’re trying to blind us.”

But we were held in the light for only a few seconds, picking us out like a fly on the wall – then it was switched off. I thought maybe they were worried about their own night vision. They were catching us fast, aiming to pass on the seaward side. Their boat drew level, slowing down to match our speed, its wake a bright slash across the dark water. Nothing we could do. Someone was yelling at us. A scratchy electronic voice – they were using a megaphone, the words lost beneath the howling of our engine.

Motor at full throttle, we carried on into the night. Pointless flight, like a calf that’s been separated from the herd, hopelessly fleeing a big cat. Waiting to be dragged down and torn to pieces. The other boat kept pace effortlessly, toying with us. Taunting us, a disjointed megaphone voice yelling at us.

I ducked down as the spotlight was switched on again. With it came another sound.
Thump
…
thump
…
thump
. The boat shuddered beneath us, staggering. And then there was silence. The engine had stopped.

Kat was crouching on the floor. “Get down!” she screamed. “They’ve shot out the motor!” She had the shotgun in both hands, working the pump action. An empty cartridge landed beside me as I hit the floor. She was on her knees now, pointing the gun over the side towards the other boat.

A mind-numbing blast, a flash of flame and she dropped back beside me, pumping to eject the spent shell. The spotlight was playing over the boat once more but, crouching on the floor, we were both out of sight. We couldn’t see them either – had no idea what they were doing.

The megaphone crackled again. “
Put down your weapons and stand up. Hands on your heads
.” We didn’t move and the voice continued. “
All of you. Now! Stand up with hands on your heads. We want to see you
.
Now
!”

It was hopeless, but Kat hadn’t given up. She was muttering angrily and, even in the darkness, I could see she was still clutching the gun.

“
Give up! We’ve got automatic weapons covering you. Stand up slowly or we’ll sink the boat
.
Stand up now
!”

“Fat chance,” said Kat, and I braced myself as she rose to her knees again, shotgun at the ready.

This time the gun’s blast didn’t take me by surprise. The crash of thunder rang in my ears, but there was screaming too. “Aa-gh! That got me! Aa-gh. I’ve been hit.” It was a woman’s voice. I didn’t recognise it, but Kat did.

And then she was screaming as well. “Blissy! Is that you?
Blissy
!” She stood up, dropping the shotgun. The other boat was right on us now, coming alongside, and Kat cannoned into me as the two hulls crashed together. My mind was a swirling haze. Bright lights, blackness, a man leaping at us out of the shadows. He towered over us waving an assault rifle and shouting as someone switched on another light. A sudden glare, a floodlight this time. “The others. Where are they?”

I couldn’t answer. Didn’t know what he wanted. I cringed mindlessly on the floor, staring up at him. Waiting for him to pull the trigger, black images chasing each other through my head. And Kat, sprawled on top of me, still screaming for Blissy.

But nothing happened and gradually the panic in my head began to sort itself out. He hadn’t shot us. He’d stopped shouting. He was talking now – to Kat, almost reassuringly. “She looks a mess, but I think she’ll be okay. We’re taking care of her.”

Then another man appeared at his shoulder, a dark figure in a wetsuit, holding a submachine gun in one hand. He fixed his gaze on both of us. “Where are the others?” he said urgently. “The men? The guys who were in this boat?
Quick
! We need to know.”

Neither of us answered him. Just stared up at him blankly.

“What happened to them? Come on – you’ve got to help us.” His voice took on a terse note. “We need to know where they are. How’d you get hold of their boat?”

Kat was first to come to her senses. “We took it,” she said. “It was on the beach. Those other men are up the hill somewhere – in their Pajero. But what about Blissy? I’ve got to see Blissy.” She sat up, clutching the side deck. “Who
are
you? Kreigler’s …?”

“Yeah, he called us in. Said he needed support. He got
that
right.” He reached down and pulled Kat to her feet. “Let’s get you on board. See if you can help her. She’s upset.”

I hauled myself onto my knees, watching them scramble into the other boat. My head was whirling in a frenzy. These men … men telling us we had to help them. Were they really on
our
side? I didn’t believe in miracles and hardly dared to hope.

The other man gestured me to follow Kat. “Come on, both of you.” He stooped for his rifle. “Why the hell were you shooting at us? Why didn’t you just stop like we told you?”

Something snapped, and I whirled on him. “
Shooting
? Jesus,
you
started the shooting! We couldn’t hear what you were saying.”

“Hey, it’s okay. “ He patted me on the shoulder. “We all made the same mistake. You kids did bloody well – a bit hard to tell who’s who in the dark.” Then he took me by the elbow, steadying me as I clambered over the side. “It’s just that we’re in a hurry. The cops’ll be here any moment and once they get organised, we won’t be allowed anywhere near the action.”

He’d lost my attention though. I was staring at Blissy. She was sprawled in an awkward heap on the floor, shaking. Kat was kneeling beside her, pressing a bloodied towel to the side of her face and talking to her urgently. Another man was busy with a pair of scissors, snipping at her clothes, cutting them away from her shoulder.

“Oh, Jesus,” I muttered. “She gonna be all right?”

Kat looked up, her face twisted in the floodlight and streaming with tears. “I don’t know.”

Hey Kat,

I’m sitting on the beach in front of Jed’s old shack. It used to be one of my favourite hangouts, but today I had to force myself to come over here. The whole place is scary. And it’s lonely too without you and Jed. It’s the second time I’ve been here since you left and I don’t think I’ll come again.

It was great to see Blissy the other day. I didn’t recognise her at first with all that heavy bruising, but I’m glad she could make it to the funeral. Jed would’ve been glad too. It wasn’t a happy occasion, but afterwards things seemed to improve a bit because Blissy and I spent some time together, and I finally got to know her. Until then we’d barely met. I think she’s wonderful, and so like you – it was kinda like sitting

down with you again. Except having you here would’ve been a lot better than wonderful.

The coolest thing about seeing Blissy though – way coolest – was the letter she gave me from you. It’s really good to know that you’re okay and that the trial your dad’s involved in is going well. Still, it must be pretty horrible for you – hidden away under wraps with no phone, no email and no freedom at all. But at least they’re giving you proper protection this time and, as you say, it shouldn’t be for too much longer. And we can write to each other. Blissy gave me a postbox address and I’ll send this note there. (Hopefully, they’ll pass it on without cutting half of it out!)

The best part of your letter was the bit about missing me and wanting to see me again. I’ve read it over and over again – and believe me, I feel the same way. There were things I wanted to say to you, but I didn’t get a chance after the rescue. Everything was just a blur. They whisked you away in that police chopper so fast and it seemed like a great chunk of my life had gone with you. Afterwards, I just felt empty. Still do, really.

At least I’m mobile now. Somehow I inherited Jed’s motorbike, and I use it every day, down to the jetty

and back. Even got my provisional licence. It’s great, but really, I’d much rather come home each night like we used to, squashed up in the ute together. Dad did a deal with Jed’s lawyer for the bike – I reckon a couple of crates of beer probably changed hands. We came over here last Saturday to pick it up. Dad said I didn’t have to come with him, but I wanted to. Maybe that was a mistake. Everything was just as Jed had left it. Nobody seemed to have disturbed anything at all – and it was horrible. Scary too. I know those bastards are back in Australia now, banged up in jail, and I know it’ll be years before they’re released, but I couldn’t shake them out of my head. There seemed to be someone skulking in every shadow. I didn’t go near the boatshed and when we’d loaded the bike, I couldn’t get away quick enough. Felt like a real wimp – and I guess that’s why I came back today. Wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it. But it’s not working.

The weirdest thing though is that everybody’s treating me like a hero. Even Burger – whenever we bump into each other it’s all high fives and stuff like that. As if we’re old mates from way back. Not that I mind. It’s better than being threatened with his shit

shredder. But I’m not a hero, and it feels really strange to have the whole town treating me as one. Heroes are brave. They’re people like Jed and Kreigler – the kind of guys who don’t worry about danger, and I feel a bit of a fraud because I’m not like that. I guess I just wanted to be with you, and somehow we got tangled up in a mess together. But I was practically wetting myself the whole time. Nothing brave about that. One good thing came out of it – the whole town came to Jed’s funeral, and they’ve stopped thinking of him as a shifty bastard.