Fire Eye (22 page)

Jed crouches in the cockpit, waiting patiently for Alex to return from wherever her mind has taken her. Locating a crash site is always traumatic. Finding the remains of the crew is an emotional event even for him and he has no personal connection with the bodies inhabiting the aircraft. He continues to wait, letting the feelings flow through her and find a natural balance.

“You okay?” he asks after judging enough time has passed. She doesn’t respond, doing the disappearing thing again. He continues to wait.

Finally, she turns her head and looks into his eyes. “I never thought it would be like this. I had no idea what to expect. Maybe I didn’t think we would ever find him, or that nothing would be left, but here he is! I don’t know what to feel. It’s a shock!”

Jed understands her confusion. It is a first time for him, looking into the empty eye sockets of a World War II pilot. Aircraft wreckage is one thing, but human remains are something else entirely. Animals haven’t scattered the bones, so there is more left than he expected. He decides to refocus her attention to give her subconscious time to work things through. “Let’s have a look at what else is in here.”

She takes the opportunity to escape, edging out of the pilot’s seat without hesitation, anxious to grasp anything to take her away from Karl’s empty eyes. The cabin roof is low and they have to crouch as they turn around and step down into a space like a small room. It has a couple of jump seats, equipment racks on each side, exposed bundles of wiring, tubing for hydraulic fluids and a plexiglass bubble in the top for navigation work. More bones can be seen among remains of clothing. Behind this space the fuselage narrows and they crawl over the long-range fuel tank installed in the bomb bay. They stop and sit under the dorsal turret, Jed inspecting it carefully. The inside of the aircraft is a time capsule of dull-green painted aluminium, tubing, electrical wiring and equipment covered with a dusting of leaves, animal residue and other unknown detritus accumulated over the years.

They tread warily as the floor is littered with more human remains. The skulls are hardest to deal with—empty eye sockets stare into nothingness, stark reminders of the people who boarded the aircraft in the Philippines. They crouch silently for minutes, both looking up and down the fuselage.

Alex breaks the moment by crawling away to pick something off the aluminium floor of the aircraft and returning to crouch next to Jed. “It’s a leg off a doll.” She holds it up to the light filtering through the perspex of the dorsal turret.

“Let’s go through again and search thoroughly,” Jed suggests. “We found Karl for you. That is the most important find. But I’m intrigued about the letter and Fire Eye. You don’t often get the chance to get involved in a real life mystery.” He’s giving Alex something else to think about instead of Karl’s skull, hoping she won’t think he is a mercenary prick trying to strike it rich.

She nods in agreement but before they move, Jed points back toward the tail. “This aircraft had a machine gun in the tail and two more up in the turret,” he says decisively, pointing upward. “But the turret up there is empty and so is the tail gun mount. You can see where the guns were installed but there’s nothing there. It’s the same with the gun in the nose. I think our unknown pig hunter helped himself to at least four machine guns, fifty calibres to boot! That would explain why he didn’t announce the find. My guess is he sold them and made some money to cover his trip and then some!”

Alex looks up into the turret. She has no idea what she is looking at but even to her untrained eye it is obvious something has been removed. “The bastard took the guns, left people unburied and families with unanswered questions!”

Jed doesn’t dare respond. The emotion behind the words is powerful. He hasn’t grown up with missing relatives. He remembers her explanations about her mother and the blame game that had taken place. It isn’t his place to judge. “Let’s take another look.” Jed starts to move forward, looking left and right as he searches.

Alex decides not to argue with him. She can’t think of anything else to do so she follows him, tucking the doll’s leg into a pocket in her trousers, checking left and right for anything that grabs her attention. They scramble over the top of the fuel tank back into the space where she can almost stand upright, but Jed still has to crouch. She looks down at human bones mixed in with the rotted remains of clothing and reaches down to pick up what must have been a shoulder bag. Jed watches as she carefully picks it up and pulls open the leather flap, stiff with age. She looks inside and gingerly reaches in with her fingers.

Alex pulls out a small square wooden box with the dark, almost black, patina of very old age. Jed catches his breath when he sees it cupped in her hand. She cradles it in her left hand and carefully puts her right hand over the top, twisting it back and forth until it lifts clear. He can’t help but lean forward to look into the box—a wooden inset with its empty oval space, black like an empty eye socket.

They are silent with surprise before Jed speaks. “Something was in there. Just look at that wood work. It’s been around a long time. The joints were made with hand tools and the finish shows the accumulation of age. Hundreds of years!”

Alex can see he is right about the age. “But it’s still empty!” she snaps.

“It shows the letter has some truth in it. It’s more than sixty years ago. Who knows what has happened in that time. Let’s keep searching,” Jed suggests, aiming to keep Alex distracted. He turns back as a thought rears up. “That pouch was undisturbed and the box stiff to open. I doubt our mystery pig hunter opened it. He saw the guns and focussed on them.” Without waiting for a response, he climbs back into the cockpit and starts searching around. She follows him into the space where Karl’s bones rest in a sad heap.

Aircraft manuals, maps and other documents are still tucked into various corners of the cockpit. Jed tries to leave these undisturbed as he searches. “What are you looking for?” Alex asks as he crouches down on his knees and puts his hand under the pilot’s seat.

“I may have just got lucky,” he says, withdrawing his hand clutching what appears to be a leather bag. He unhooks the flap and pulls out an object. “We may have an equalizer,” he announces with conviction as he admires the Colt Government .45 pistol nestled in his hand. He tips the holster upside down and a magazine falls out, hitting the floor with a metallic clang amid the rattle of cartridges that bounce and scatter randomly in all directions. Alex watches in silence as Jed fondles the weapon, trying to pull the slide back. It is stiff with age and surface rust. Jed presses the magazine release with his thumb and has to pull the magazine out. Properly maintained, the magazine should have dropped out, ready for a fast reload.

He looks at the magazine carefully. “Karl was a sensible man. He got this plane back to Australia and didn’t fill the magazine of his pistol. That means, even after all these years, we have a spring that still works and at least one magazine that should feed cartridges! It means we don’t have to cower from that bastard and sneak around the bloody bush while he calls all the shots! Sorry, didn’t mean the pun!” he says with a wry smile. “The bastard enjoys terrorising people when they can’t fight back, but I bet he hesitates when the odds aren’t all his way! And they are no longer all his way, if I can clean this baby up.”

Alex knows he is right. They have been on the run even before they knew it, like a pair of mice stalked by a cat, played and toyed with for entertainment. Now it might be different. She feels a strange mixture of fear, uncertainty and excitement. In the last few days, she has felt more alive and aware than she can ever remember. It is bizarre and not what she expects with Decker’s shadow hovering over them like a dark angel of death. For the first time in her life she is on the top rung of existence; a heightened level of survival. She revels in experiencing her sensory rebirth—the awareness of blood coursing through her veins, razor-sharp vision, acute hearing and a sharpened sense of smell. She is alive to everything around her.

“Clean it up and make it work!” she says, looking down at the remains of Karl.

Decker and Joe are in sight of the ridge where Jesse waits unseen. They say little on the return journey. The sight of the ridgeline overlooking the vehicles makes Joe think of Little Britches. He wants to get him out of this mess and now has a chance. He feels a twinge of optimism and the urge to talk. “Story is a kid was on d’at plane when it crashed long time ago.”

Decker hears what Joe said but doesn’t respond. He isn’t interested in history. He is happy he doesn’t have to go tramping through the bloody bush to get what he wants. The bitch will fall into his hands, along with the smart arse. If they found something of worth in the plane, they’d have it on them. Save him all the trouble of hoofing around the fucking country!

“Story is d’at kid became a nurse. Lived her life up ‘ere. Had a daughter who married the fella owns the property we drove through.”

This time Decker pays more attention. He joins the dots but doesn’t know if they have any relevance to him. “How’d they buy the property?” he asks on a whim.

“Don’t know.” White fella finance is an area Joe knows little about and isn’t interested in. “Boss man didn’t have much money. Maybe he just worked ‘ard.”

Decker makes assumptions about land value and some calculations on returns from cattle. He doesn’t know much about it but can’t argue with the numbers. Buying a property like the one they passed through needs hard work or good security. “Maybe they just got lucky,” he replies to end the discussion, knowing very well luck isn’t involved. He files it away for future reference.

As they close on the ridge in the distance, Decker reflects on what Joe has told him. He knows about Fire Eye and has guessed its potential value. The letter has given enough hint of that. Locating it is secondary to his main goal, but a bonus if he gets his hands on it. A bloody good, fat bonus! He considers the coincidences—the child who survived and whose daughter married the station owner. The possibility that someone else has Fire Eye annoys him and the longer he thinks about it, the more it starts to eat away at him.

Either it’s in the plane and the bitch has it or someone else has it. A wave of panic starts to wash through him. He quashes it with the logic that marks him as a man above everyone else.

If something like that had been sold on the open market, it would have made the news sometime. It didn’t make the news, so if it really exists it’s in the plane, or the mother or daughter has it. After he finishes his business with the bitch there could be another interesting challenge to pursue.

Even as he is thinking the problem through and stroking his ego, he doesn’t miss the sight of Jesse raising himself up on the ridge in the distance to watch them approach.
Boy needs a talking to! Silhouetting himself against the skyline like that! He should know fucking better! Needs his ears smacked!
He walks faster to overtake the black fella and get things sorted.
Always up to me,
he tells himself as he strides purposefully up to his son.

“What the fuck you think’n, sticking your bloody head up like that! What have I taught you boy! You may as well put up flashing lights for everyone to see!” Decker finishes his dressing down with a swipe to Jesse’s ear. He doesn’t mean to hurt him. It is done with the love of a father who wants to teach his son. “Just remember, don’t stand up on a ridgeline or you stick out like a fucking sore thumb. Stay bloody low! When you’re on the move, crawl over the top!” He draws Jesse toward him to give him a manly hug. “I love you son, just don’t fuck up like that again!”

Jesse’s ear is stinging, but he knows he deserves it. It was stupid to raise himself up on his knee. He should know damn better and just forgot because it was his dad coming back. He feels the love for his father swell in his chest, always trying to teach him the right thing. “I won’t forget again Pa!” he promises. He hugs his father in return.

Decker releases him and pats his head in conciliation. “There’s a change in plan. I’m staying with you Jesse. We’re moving over to the other hill and sending the black fella out to find them. The other black bastard we’ll keep in our sights as insurance. The old bastard wants his brother bad so I’m helping him.”

Jesse knows his father is smart. The black fellas can never be let go. They are tools to get what they want and expendable. His father knows what he is doing. His stint in jail is the fault of the lying bitch and they are going to get payback.

Decker prods Brad with the barrel of his shotgun and gives him a nudge with his foot to get him to stand. He can’t bring himself to touch him. The pain of Brad’s broken jaw is etched into his face. Brad fights the urge to release a groan, refusing to give the white bastard the pleasure. Decker and Jesse gather their gear and point to one of the packs for Brad to carry, the heaviest of course.

“No need for us to bust our guts when we got a fuck’n donkey!” Jesse laughs at his own joke, highly amused.

Joe hears it and wants to drive his fist into Jesse’s chuckling face. He fights to control himself, flexing his fist open and closed against his leg to release the pent-up rage. He catches Brad’s eye and gives a slight nod of encouragement.

“You better get moving Joe, no point wasting time!” Decker orders, trying to sound conciliatory. He needs Joe a bit longer. “Bring me what I want and you get what you want,” he promises.

Joe looks him briefly in the eye then flicks his eyes to the ground. He has seen what he wanted to see. The deal he has sealed is made with the Christian Devil he learned about on the mission. At best it has the substance of a willy-willy dancing fleetingly across the summer landscape.

Joe gives a final glance into Brad’s eyes, followed by another nod of encouragement. He turns and walks off into the late afternoon sun beginning the downward leg of its journey toward the horizon.