End It With A Lie

CHAPTER 22

   

   

  Sarah had had a good day. Simon had been cheery and a little more relaxed, even after the electrician had delivered yet another fax.

  Now, after Simon had related the story to her about the money, the faxes and his trip to Europe, she understood his restlessness over the past days. The initial disheartenment she’d felt when she learned of his theft had passed as he’d explained his plan. Now she smiled to herself at the memory of his explanation for not kissing her good bye the night he rushed to town to read the fax from the African. She reviewed the conversation of that afternoon as she and Simon had lain in the cool of the house.

  She listened to his explanation again as it reeled in silent words through her mind.

  “Sarah, if I could put into money terms an excuse for not kissing you goodbye that night. How much would you accept as a reasonable excuse?”

  “I don’t know. I would prefer a reason rather than an excuse.” She laughed and asked, “What’s all this about Simon?”

  “How much?” He persisted as he kissed her gently and asked again,

  “I don’t know.”

  Simon stroked her hair and said,

  “The excuse... Sorry. The reason I have for forgetting to kiss you goodbye was 32.6 million dollars American.”

  “Are you serious?” She asked incredulously.

  It was then that Simon related his story to her.

  She was smiling to herself when she heard a sound behind her. She’d begun to turn when she saw a movement from the corner of her eye. Something touched the side of her head, and then blackness.

  Scott caught her as she fell, and lowered her to the floor where he used cable ties on her wrists and ankles. A third cable tie held her wrists to her ankles behind her back before he gagged her with duct tape.

  While dragging her still form to the pantry, his eyes were drawn to her bared chest. It had become exposed when the buttons of her blouse had torn away as he’d caught and broke her fall.

  His lips were dry, and he was about to touch when he saw a reflection of light on the far wall of the darkened dining room. It drew his attention to the window where he saw headlights of an approaching car.

  He looked down at the woman who as if in sleep lay on her side at his feet.

  “I’ll be back for you later. Don’t go away now, will you,” he whispered.

  Her upper most breast hung from her chest like firm fruit, and before he left the pantry he gave it a rough squeeze.

  Quickly leaving the house, he made his way to the swimming pool area, where he took in the situation before backing away into the shadows. Leaving the blue flamed gas bottle on its side, as he reckoned the returning man would be drawn to it, like a moth to a light.

  From where he stood in the thick shrubbery he could see clearly the blue flame of bait.

  *****

  It was 9.15 when Simon finally drove back to the farm. It had been a good day and he felt better now as he had told Sarah what he had done.

  His worry had been she might object to his actions, and it appeared at first that she would do so, but she had come around to his way of thinking when he’d explained to her his intentions.

  The road he drove was really a track of twists and turns and gullies. Each small hazard had to be negotiated rather than driven, and he always looked forward to doing just that.

  The lights of the house glowed vividly through the night, and he wondered if Ray might be still there, as the lights were also on in the swimming pool enclosure. He parked the car and made his way towards the kitchen end of the house.

  While passing the pool gateway he saw the gas bottles blue flame fluttering alone into the night. Odd he thought, as he walked past the feed shed and towards the overturned gas bottle.

  He stepped up to it and righted the near empty bottle before turning the gas off. Noticing as he did so, the wax, where it had spilt from the pot and spread in a smooth shiny glaze over the dirty concrete. At the same time, he saw the lidless cyanide bucket standing dangerously close to the edge of the pool.

  Fearing fumes, he carefully lifted it by its handle, and at arm’s length made to move it from the water’s edge. As he did he wondered where Ray might be.

  Suddenly it dawned on him that something was wrong. He was about to put the cyanide bucket down near the gas bottle, when he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye.

  He was still holding the cyanide bucket in his left hand as he straightened, and as he turned, the movement became that of a black shadow of a man. It slipped out of the darkness and moved swiftly toward him.

  Simon froze. Then his right arm whipped up to protect his head from the small club in the attacker’s hand. It rose, and reached out for him as the shadowed figure moved smoothly perilously close. Simon felt like prey in the sights of a skilled predator.

  No thoughts of death entered Simons head. He was transfixed, mesmerized.

  His minds vision was resolutely clear, reality in a time slowed. The predator’s face sneered at him. Its triumphant grin distorted by the shadows thrown as leaves of a single tree were entertained by a light breeze under the pool enclosures single yellow light.

  At last Simon moved. Stepping to his right as the shadow came on. Sure of itself.

  Suddenly the grin of victory vanished, immediately replaced by one of confusion as the attacker’s foot began to slip on the spilt wax. It tried to right itself, but only slid further into failure. Desperately it tried to grip Simon’s arm.

  Simon stood fast while the shadowed figure lost grace. Its half grip became no grip, and as Simon pulled away from the violent clutching fingers he too spun out of control, in turn losing the cyanide bucket.

  It hung in the air while the shadow landed on its back in the water. A second later it fell, as if it intended to follow the struggling shape, hitting the water and spewing its deadly contents over and through the murky broken surface.

  The shadow sunk down with momentum and then found its footing. Its powerful legs propelled it upright, and Simon watched the dark head break the surface. Its mouth wide open as it gasped for air.

  It filled with water instead, and cyanide.

  The shadow seemed to ready itself for another attack. Suddenly it just stopped in mid-stream. Its eyes popped open as it gurgled, and sank back into the water.

  Simon felt as if every emotion he’d ever known had visited him, all in the space of a few short seconds. He felt hot and cold, laughing and crying, weak at the knees, tight in the belly and he had a thick taste of something on his tongue. He gained a grip on one of Ray’s chairs for support and stared at the pool and its ripples. Almost expecting the shadow to break free of its dark, wet shroud and attack again.

  The sound of knocking brought him back to reality and hairs stirred on the back of his neck as he realized he was not alone. He turned toward the noise and ran quickly to the feed shed to swing open the loose fitting door. In the darkness he could make out a body lain out on the earthen floor. It kicked, and dust rained down as riding boots came in contact with the timber wall.

  “Ray! Are you alright?” No answer came from the man, other than a moan and a grunt as Simon realized he’d been gagged.

  Ray was lying on his side with his face away from Simon and flinched when Simon touched his shoulder.

  “Ray, it’s me, Simon,” he said, as he bent over and spoke clearly into the bonded man’s ear

  With this Ray settled, and remained still while Simon removed the duct tape which clung stubbornly to his stubble face. Simon pulled free his pocket knife and cut the cable ties, allowing Ray to struggle to a sitting position, where he rubbed circulation into his wrists.

  “Simon. Bloody hell! What happened?” Ray stopped short at this point, looked at Simon, and said a word that made Simon’s warm blood run cold.

  “Sarah.”

  Simon backed out of the feed shed and ran to the house. Mounting the steps to the veranda with long s
trides and discounting in his haste, the loose and risky boards. He called her name as he entered the house, and the cold hand of fear touched his heart when silence was the only reply.

  He came to the kitchen and was greeted by the signs that she had been here. Her sandwich ingredients were sitting on the breakfast bench. Simon noticed the pantry door was slightly ajar, though the light was not on. He pushed the door gently and it opened on squeaky hinges. The first he saw of her through the darkness of the room was her bare hands and feet.

  He pulled his pocket knife and cut the cable ties.

  Simon put the knife away and touched her shoulder to turn her. Suddenly she leapt like an animal and lashed out, catching him square in the eye with her balled fist. He fell back and she was on him in a flash, her fingernails going for his eyes until he managed to grab her by her wrists.

  “Sarah, Sarah, it’s me.”

  She relaxed her attack and looked at his face, finally recognizing him. At that moment Ray stepped into the doorway and saw Simon flat on his back with Sarah sitting on his stomach. She with red hair aglow in the kitchen light, her chest exposed and fire in her eyes. Simon lay with a scratch on his face and an eye which was quickly swelling.

  Ray turned away out of respect for the woman’s exposure, then leant on the kitchen table where he allowed a relief of laughter to explode from deep within him.

  Sarah looked down at Simon, and taking in his wounds she lowered her head and he felt her hair caress his face as she snuggled into him. She lay there a moment before rising again as if to say something, then stopped as her hands felt the reason for her silence.

  Simon didn’t know what to say so he remained quiet and began to nurse his eye.

  Ten minutes later the three of them stood by the pool looking at the body of the man in the water.

  They opened cans of beer and for a time each was lost in their own thoughts.

  Ray broke the spell.

  “Has this got anything to do with the letter I delivered to you the night of the rain Simon?”

  Simon looked at Ray, and before he knew it he was pouring the story out to him. He’d known Ray for a long time and felt he could trust the man. Although under different circumstances he may have considered that the amount of money involved could buy some men’s souls.

  Simon closed the story with the plan he had for the disposal of the millions, which were safe in the bank in Liechtenstein.

  Ray looked at him disbelievingly and then smiled as he saw the look of truth in Simon’s eyes.

  They all remained quiet for a while until Ray spoke.

  “Well it looks like you’ve got someone on your tail. So I suppose the best thing to do now is to get this clown out of the pool and see if he’s got any I.D on him.” He paused for a moment before asking, “Who’d like another beer?”

  It wasn’t long before they were rifling through the dead man’s pockets, and came up with a wallet and credit cards that explained his details. They also found a plane ticket, the address of the girl who worked at the roadhouse and a list of instructions authorized by the initials G.S.

  The night was still reasonably young so they sat and discussed the body. Sarah thought that to just bury it somewhere was a bit callous. She stood by this idea until Ray pointed out to her that the girl from the roadhouse was his niece. It appeared to him that the dead man was not only a killer, but he possibly had sinister intentions in mind regarding my niece. Thankfully we’ve stopped that from happening.” He nudged the dead man with his boot, “Now to me, there’s no such thing as callousness where scumbags like this are concerned.”

  Sarah hadn’t thought of what was obvious to her now that Ray had pointed it out. It brought to the surface a memory of a secret scar which had marked her heart since she was a young girl.

  “Don’t get me wrong Sarah. I’m not an evil man, but people like this don’t deserve a Christian grave. Anyway, what about the questions it’ll raise with the authorities? We’ll have coppers everywhere poking about in things, court cases, lawyer’s costs and our time.” Ray paused for breath, and then continued, “The time that I have left on earth is limited and I don’t really want to waste it on a scumbag like this. He died while attacking people with intent. He died because people fought back in self-defense. You know that, and I know that. Why is it necessary to prove it to some judge or jury when we know in our hearts that it was his own fault he died?”

  “He must have had a car. It may be hidden around here somewhere. Shouldn’t we find it first?” Sarah suggested.

  Ray thought for a moment and gave another of his ideas.

  “What about if you and Simon take a drive and hunt around for his car, while I get rid of the body?”

  “Do you want a hand to dig the hole?” Simon asked.

  “No I’ll be alright. I can have this bloke under eight foot of dirt in less than half an hour, with the help of the grazier’s back hoe. You two will have to find the car and see if you can dispose of it.”

  Ten minutes later Simon and Sarah drove slowly along the dusty track until they arrived at the boundary gate, then Simon turned the car around to cover the road from that direction.

  He hadn’t picked up any tracks on the way out, and hadn’t expected to. A greater chance of discovering them lay in traversing the track from the direction the dead man had taken.

  His bush experience was rewarded, and as he rounded a slight bend he could see clearly where car tracks left the road. He followed them until they led him directly to the car.

  Simon left his car and walked around the deserted vehicle. Peeling the car cover back and peering into its windows without touching any part of the car itself.

  He returned to his own car, and from its boot he took a pair of leather oil riggers gloves before he leaned into Sarah’s window.

  “I’ll drive it into town and leave it there somewhere. You follow me. When I’ve found a place to park it I’ll turn off the lights and walk to where you’ve stopped. Don’t drive too close to me, and if you see me pulled up by the coppers or something, then drive around the block and check again. I can’t see that anything can go wrong Sarah, but if it does, then get out of the place and tell Ray O.K?”

  Simon got out of his car and Sarah slid over to the driver’s side. Simon closed the door and then leaned in through the window and kissed her softly. “Sarah, I’m sorry I got you involved in this. I was scared when I couldn’t find you this evening and I....” He didn’t finish and instead of trying to find the words he kissed her again and whispered, “I always had hope you would return to me Sarah, but tonight I had a terrible fear you might be lost to me forever.”

  Sarah could see that he was shaken. She and Ray had not seen their attacker, so they had not experienced the fear of direct frontal contact with his intent. Their headaches were still felt from the dead man’s club, but Simon felt something more, and it showed in the expression on his face. She loved him more at that moment, and knew then, that she would soothe him in her own way when they’d returned to the farm.

  Simon found the keys to the dead man’s car in the ignition. Started it, and drove it through the gateway, then closed it again after Sarah had driven through. He locked it. Thinking it might save Ray being interrupted by unexpected visitors.

  As he got behind the wheel of the car, he suddenly realized where he had seen the dead man before. The face came back to him as the one who had bumped into him in the supermarket.

  The steep learning curve he was on suddenly taught him that he would have to look over his shoulder more often. Take careful note of any strangers he saw. Sudovich had sent one man to find him, and he might send another when he found this latest one missing.

  Simon drove directly to the end of town pedestrians didn’t use at night, and left the car in the shadows. Expecting the street kids would have it in pieces by morning.

  He walked around the corner to his own car, and noticed that Sarah drove more quickly than her usual on their return to the f
arm. Fatigue seemed to overtake him as he tried to relax his head on the headrest until he welcomed Sarah’s voice as it came to him over the noise of the car.

  “Simon.”

  “Mm?” Simon, still with his eyes closed, murmured,

  “The fax that came from the African this afternoon, what does he want?”

  “I don’t know Sarah. The message just asked me to contact him one last time.”

  “Will you?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes I think I will. Mainly out of curiosity, but also because I shouldn’t let the bloke entertain the thought that we Australians have bad manners.”

  She looked at him, and in the low cabin light she could make out a tired grin on his face, and they both chuckled.