Grievous Harm. Sandy Curtis

inwards and outwards, government and personal, was read, scanned and a copy kept.

      It seemed impossible to get anything out of Duralinga.

      Kate was grateful that the trees gave some shelter from the cold night air, but she wished the small camping stove was really a blazing fire that would spread light as well as heat. She'd been camping at night before, but never on her own, and not in this country. At least Australia didn't have cougars or bears. No, most of its deadliest creatures were small and hidden, which, in her mind, made them all the more scary. Melanie had told her about having to look out for funnel-web and redback spiders when playing in the garden as a child.

      The night sounds reminded her that this was unfamiliar territory, and she hoped the rustling she'd heard earlier was just another wallaby like the one she'd seen that afternoon.

      She shifted the saucepan of Irish stew aside, put a slice of bread in the toasting rack and held it over the circular flame.

      A sharp crack sounded behind her.

      She spun around and stared into the darkness.

      CHAPTER 8

      John stood immobile, not daring to ease his foot from the twig that had snapped. Eventually Kate turned back to her cooking and he was able to move stealthily away.

      He'd watched Kate set up her cooking equipment and prepare her meal, and wished he was similarly prepared. He'd bought an Esky, ice and food when he'd followed Kate to the supermarket, but had no opportunity to purchase cooking equipment apart from a small frying pan. He could start a fire, but smells and noise travelled far at night and she might smell the smoke.

      Instead, he ate a ham sandwich and drank fruit juice, took the travel blanket from the Falcon's boot and slept on the back seat and wished like hell that he was back in Brisbane's warmer-by-comparison winter.

      Kate had been cramped sleeping on the back seat of the Rav4 last night, and not as warm as she would have liked, but the walk to the compound this morning had stretched her muscles. She'd made her way closer to the area where the adults had worked in the field, hoping she would be able to identify Melanie if she were in the group.

      The faint sound of singing and clapping echoed across the valley from the larger of the buildings in the compound. The compound fence was only twenty yards away, but the open ground between it and the trees where Kate hid, made it impossible for her to get closer without risking being seen.

      She took off her pack and, using a large tree as support, she slid to a sitting position and took out her binoculars. The gun Glen had bought her nestled between her sandwiches and water bottle, and although she doubted she'd be capable of shooting anyone, it was reassuring to have it. A Swiss Army Knife, another of her purchases, was in a more easily accessible side pocket.

      The singing stopped, but was quickly followed by the chanting of affirmations that had been part of the group sessions with Nathaniel. She imagined the swaying and the incense and the intrusion of memories long buried and the need to give in to someone who seemed to have the answer to their pain, and she wondered if Nathaniel might be inside. The thought filled her with dread. There was something almost hypnotic about the man. In spite of his soft voice and deceptively gentle manner, his presence seemed to fill the room when he walked in, and she was aware how easy it was to submit to his power.

      Half an hour passed before the chanting stopped and people began to pour from the building. They picked up gardening equipment from inside a shed and moved into the fields. The German Shepherd accompanied them, but soon moved under a shady tree and lay down.

      Kate's pulse quickened, hoping the children would follow, but childish voices wafted from the building and then were silenced.

      Using her binoculars, Kate scanned the field workers, but again saw no sign of Melanie. It was possible that she'd been taken to one of the other Houses, and Kate tried to swallow her impatience. It was also possible that Melanie was in one of the buildings, tending to the children. Kate decided to make her way around the perimeter so she was closer to the buildings.

      Just then two women led a group of young children outside onto the grassy oval. Kate's pulse quickened as she trained her binoculars on them. They were huddled together and all wore floppy cloth hats; although two of the children appeared to be around Cindy's age, it was impossible to see their features. As the adults shepherded the group to a part of the oval obscured by the largest building, Kate caught a glimpse of a blonde ponytail.

      'Cindy!' The word left her mouth before she could stop it. She mentally kicked herself. If Nathaniel's henchmen found her spying on the compound, she was sure it would end all her chances of finding her family. The ponytail she'd spotted wasn't as light as Cindy's, but Kate knew fair hair often darkened as children grew older.

      She had to know if the child was her niece. And that meant making her way to where she could see the children. Hopefully they were still on the oval and hadn't been moved into the building.

      Thick undergrowth and fallen branches slowed her down. The musty odour of flowering lantana and eucalyptus created a smell peculiar to the Australian bush. She'd lived in many different places in the States, but she'd never come across such a unique odour. She blundered into a spider's web, and almost panicked as the sticky strands clung to her face. Nerves, she told herself. All these weeks of worry and she might finally have found Cindy. No wonder she was impatient.

      She didn't think the scrub could get any thicker, but it did. Suddenly. Vines, dark and sinuous, lacing themselves through bushes, through trees, forming an almost impenetrable barrier. Kate hesitated, one hand raised as though to pull them apart, then she noticed the thorns, curved and sharp, at regular intervals on the seeking tendrils. She lowered her hand, and felt her shirt snagged by one of the hook-like thorns. Tugging against it only pulled the hook in deeper. She reached across and pulled it out. And swore. Softly, but with all her pent-up feelings behind the words.

      Maybe if she had a machete she could hack her way through, but the knife in her pack wasn't meant for that kind of work.

      She would have to go around. Impatiently, she pulled out her compass and headed away from the compound.

      Ten minutes later she stopped. There appeared to be no end to the ever-encroaching vine. And judging by her compass, it was sweeping her even further from her goal. Perhaps she should go back and sneak along the clearing edge. It would be a risk - anyone looking through the building's windows would spot her easily. But if everyone was occupied in the fields or looking after the children, then the building should be empty.

      She turned back. Eventually she reached the spot where the vine met the clearing. She scrutinised every window in every building through the binoculars.

      Not even a breeze moved the curtains. The workers were still in the fields, but they'd been joined now by a man who seemed to be acting as a foreman, his movements indicating that he was giving orders the others carried out.

      She couldn't hear or see the children.

      The risk was great, but the agony of not knowing was greater.

      She crouched low and began to move into the cleared area.

      There was a rustling sound behind her.

      A hand clamped over her mouth and a strong arm hauled her back into the scrub.