‘Agreed,’ said Neal sitting up. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Lots of civilians and a sprinkling of service personnel travelling towards Katherine between 1615 and 1700 hours. From then on, just a few service personnel. Not much in the opposite direction. Our primary target passed at 1725. I reckon it’s a safe bet that most of the service folk get to work before or around eight. What do you reckon?’
Neal yawned and stretched. ‘Well, there was bugger all going to Tindal after 0830; only what you’d call regulars, you know, tradies and deliveries.’
‘In that case,’ said Fox with a smile, ‘let’s finalise it.’
The following morning, after the bulk of traffic had passed, Fox and Neal watched their secondary target drive by. They moved into position. And then, in the cool crisp air where pale sunlight slashed the roadway with long shadows from short eucalypts, they waited.
Soon after, Colonel Winston S Holmes Jnr of the United States Marines and his driver approached the low bridge over the creek beneath the Katherine-Tindal straight.
‘Slow down Roy. What’s that on the road?’
‘Looks like a body sir,’ drawled Sergeant Roy Carmody as he braked.
They stopped about six metres from the body of a man, obviously a soldier, lying on his back. His raised right knee was gilded by a shaft of sunlight, his left arm outflung away from the car, head resting on his left shoulder, blurred by jagged shadow. From the car the man’s face appeared battered and covered in blood.
‘Looks to me sir as if this guy has been hit by a ve-hickle and dragged along the road a bit. His clothes seem shredded.’
Holmes nodded and said nothing. He eyed the scene before him, wound his window down and slowly scrutinised both sides of the road.
‘I’m callin’ this in. This is the final day of the joint exercise and I don’t trust these Aussie bastards.’
‘That’s a real good call Colonel,’ said Neal, sliding up from below the sill of the stationary car. He had been lying beside the crash rail ten metres west of Fox, rolled beneath it as soon as the car passed then, in a crouch, doubled to its rear.
‘Git out Sergeant and put your hands in the air.’ Neal put his M.4 Carbine to the side of Colonel Winston S Holmes’s head to emphasise his point. As Sergeant Roy Carmody stepped from the car, Fox rose and advanced. Holmes and Carmody saw that Fox had been “made-up” to look injured: his clothes, sliced in many places, carried a liberal coating of dust and smeared rabbit guts.
Neal opened Holmes’s door, drew his knife and held it to the Colonel’s throat. He threw his carbine to Fox who deftly caught it and trained it on both men.
‘Righto Sergeant,’ said Neal, ‘git your shirt and tie off and be bloody quick about it. Anything goes here. I’m in no mood to piss around. Your fuckwit Senators want to punish my country over your crap nuclear ships.’ Neal’s demeanour was savage – he meant what he said. Holmes was silent and inwardly seething. He could not believe he’d been caught by such a simple ruse.
‘Put your gear on top of the car and step away,’ said Fox to Carmody. As Carmody complied, Fox reached into the car and took the keys.
‘Move back.’ He motioned to Carmody with his weapon. As they moved to the rear of the car Fox opened the boot. ‘Get in.’ Carmody squeezed himself into the space and before slamming the lid Fox said, ‘For the purpose of this exercise, you’re wasted, dead as a maggot.’ Joining Neal, he opened the back door and sat behind the Colonel placing the M4 at the back of his neck.
‘Right sir,’ said Fox softly, ‘you are now an official hostage and under the rules of engagement, you are a pawn of some value. Just remember, I am here with this gun and need only say bang and you are dead. You dead, or alive, is of no consequence to us – we’ll use you either way. Shut the door and put the window up.’
As soon as the door closed Neal raced to the driver’s side, whipped his jacket off and donned Carmody’s shirt and tie. Fox passed him the keys as he got into the car and a moment later they were underway. From start to finish, the abduction had lasted six risky minutes.
Ten minutes later, when the security gate at the RAAF Base came into view, Fox slid to the floor of the car.
‘Colonel sir, my carbine is up your arse. Don’t do anything stupid.’ About ten metres from the guard house Holmes suddenly leaned towards Neal, chopped his left arm and grabbed him by the throat. The car lurched as Neal fought for control.
‘Bang!’ hissed Fox from the floor as the car came to a stop.
‘What’s going on?’ said the guard peering at the two men in the front seat.
‘The Colonel was demonstrating a yarn,’ drawled Neal, ‘only I didn’t think it was funny.’ Holmes remained mute: he was now dead.
‘Where’s Carmody today? And what’s your name? I haven’t seen you before.’
‘Carmody’s indisposed and my name’s Cassidy.’
‘What’s wrong with the Colonel?’ asked the guard, ever inquisitive.
‘I think he’s suffering apoplectic rosacea, the same kinda problem as Carmody. P’raps I should get him to a medic.’ Neal’s drawl was slow and sardonic.
‘Doesn’t sound good. Sooner than later I’d say by the look of him,’ said the guard. ‘Catch ya later.’
Fox and Neal breathed a collective sigh of relief and smiled as they rolled forward. ‘I warned you Colonel. Now you have the ignominy of not only being taken hostage, but also of being returned dead. Eh Scotty, what’s with the Cassidy bit?’
‘Hop-along you idiot! First thing I thought of in present company.’
‘So who the hell is Hop-along-Cassidy?’
‘Kid stuff, don’t worry about it.’
‘Hang on, hang on. What the hell is apoplectic rosacea?’
Neal slid a wicked glance up to the rear view mirror and grinned. ‘Buggered if I know – I made it up.’ A quick laugh bubbled upwards. ‘Come on, back to work. We’ve gotta manage this last bit right with these two “dead” bastards on our hands.’
Driving at the stipulated twenty kilometres per hour, they travelled inside the base for another kilometre, turned south and went to the base gymnasium.
‘Colonel,’ said Neal, ‘you can either stay in the car or wait in the gym until we’re finished. Don’t mind which. Just remember, you and Carmody are dead.’
‘Listen Sonny, you ain’t heard the last of this,’ said Holmes tersely. ‘I’ve minced bastards bigger than you. Don’t think this is the finish.’
‘All I can say sir,’ replied Neal with a crooked grin, ‘is those bastards musta been dumb bastards. This is supposed to be war, and that’s how we’re playin’ it. And you’re dead! No point gettin’ your knickers in a twist now. We’ll just tell everybody you were outsmarted. Now,’ said Neal, his voice icy, ‘what’s it to be? You and Carmody wanna go and wait in the gym?’
‘Yeah, we’ll go in,’ Holmes grated. ‘Get Carmody.’
Fox winked at Neal who threw the keys to Holmes. ‘Your man, you get him.’ They walked inside leaving Holmes to his incendiary mood.
In the change room they ratted various lockers and assembled a variety of sneakers, shorts and T-shirts for themselves then showered. As they were towelling off Carmody strolled in. He was relaxed and his eyes glittered. Without his shirt they could see he was well muscled and fit.
‘Hey Coon, you’re a piece o’ no good shit. Ah’m gunna whup yo’ ass. An when ah’m through with yo’ ah’m gunna