Czytaj książkę: «Thunder Down Under»

Chapter One

As the Range Rover jounced down the rutted dirt road, each bump making him lift off his seat and thump back down, Connor King couldn’t keep the ear-to-ear smile off his unwrinkled, clean-shaved face. He’d never felt more like his surname in his life.

Despite his glee, the twenty-two-year-old kept a sharp eye out across the flat, scrubby, tan-and-brown Outback he and his Mobile Patrol partner were zooming across. This was his first real assignment after finishing security officer training and he didn’t want to mess it up.

But no matter what happened today, it couldn’t be worse than where he’d been six months ago: unemployed and broke after dropping out of university when he’d lost his rugby scholarship due to a knee injury during a pickup scrum.

The only problem was that being jobless and laid-up meant he’d been only a few days from living on the streets. That’s when a former teammate had passed him the name of Wallcorloo National, the energy company his father worked for, saying they were looking for security personnel. Even injured, King had been in good enough shape to ace the WN interview process and the company had seen fit to take him on in a probationary capacity. He also found that the skills he’d acquired during his two years of school had helped him learn the bookwork fast. The company even helped him with physical therapy during his course work and that, in turn, had led him to acing the physical tests. Self-defense, marksmanship, defensive driving—he had loved every minute of it and earned glowing reports from the instructors.

These days his knee felt better than ever.

“Strewth, mate, dial it back a bit, will ya?” Logan Weathers grunted, eyeing him from behind a pair of yellow shooter’s glasses. “Your yapper’s grinning so wide I think the top of your head’s gonna fall off.”

King didn’t know a lot about his new partner, only that he had twelve years’ experience with the company and looked like he’d seen more than a thing or two. With his tanned face and arms, crow’s-feet around his eyes and rangy physique, the weathered man could have strode right out of the Outback and into his security uniform yesterday. But even with his rough-and-tumble exterior, Weathers exuded a calm professionalism—when he wasn’t teasing his new partner—and the last thing King wanted to do was to screw up or disappoint him in any way.

“Sorry, Logan.” He ran a hand through his brush-cut blond hair. “Just anxious to get to work, that’s all.”

“Bloody newbies,” the older man said with gruff affection. “Only you probies get excited about driving to the ass end of nowhere to look over an auto-pump station.”

King’s expression fell and his forehead furrowed a bit. “Yeah, but you saw the sec warning that went out yesterday, right? The Bushmen are stirrin’ up trouble again and we have to make sure they’re not fuckin’ around with company property—”

“Oi, the good Lord save me from another wet-behind-the-ears rookie who thinks he’s Mad Fucking Max,” Weathers said. “I dunno who’s pegged them for this, but whoever it is has got rocks for brains. There ain’t no splinter indigenous terrorist group running around committing industrial vandalism. Even if there was, there’s no way in hell they’d traipse all the way out here to do it. There’s plenty of closer targets that would get a lot more play on the news, if that’s what they’re after.”

King mulled that over for a few moments. What his partner said made sense, but still didn’t account for what they were doing out there. The two men had left early in the morning on their day trip, flying out from Melbourne to the isolated town of Alice Springs. From there they were driving the last 140 kilometers to inspect an automatic liquefied natural gas pumping station on the edge of the Amadeus deposit, WN’s latest acquired field and the site of its most advanced gas mining system. But the way King looked at it...

“Maybe, but those sites are also more heavily guarded, especially after the Oz Minerals incident last month. Those vandals set their copper mining schedule back almost a year and caused a few million in damages,” he insisted. “And this one’s Wallcorloo’s new state-of-the-art system, so busting it up would still get those vandals some attention. But even if you’re right, and this site isn’t a target, then why’d they send us out here in the first place?”

Weathers smiled at that and King got the feeling he’d somehow set a trap for himself. “’Cause this isolated site is the perfect training ground for greenies like yourself.

“And it’s nothing to fret over,” Weathers continued. “Actually, it means something that they had me bring you all the way out here on your first field assignment. Means they like what they see. Means they got plans for you. So just keep yer eyes and ears open and do what I say, and maybe your next assignment’ll be near a beach somewhere. Instead of humping a whole day back home like we’re gonna, you’ll only be a hop, skip and a jump away from a cold draft and a warm sheila.”

King smiled. “Amen.”

“Eh, here we are.” The Range Rover crested a small rise and King focused his attention on the forty-plus acres of pipes and machinery representing the pinnacle of liquid natural gas drilling.

He stared at it while going over the facts he’d been required to memorize during his training. The Amadeus field site was completely automated and cost more than $9 million AU to construct. It could extract and compress fourteen thousand metric tonnes of LNG every twenty-four hours, and have it ready for pickup via an automated truck-relay system through the underground offloading hangar once it entered the full production stage.

At least half of the entire facility was underground, but it wouldn’t take anyone all that much effort to sabotage the aboveground systems and cause major damage to the well.

Wallcorloo had already entered a contract with Tesla for a fleet of its first-generation electric trucks, and was working with them to add solar panels to extend their range in the unforgiving desert. King had scratched his head when he’d first heard about that plan, and wondered how they were going to deal with the ever-present dust, but had shoved the thought aside, realizing it wasn’t his problem. Just as long as they don’t get rid of my job.

“So, I take it we’re not gonna spend the rest of the day driving around the place, right?” he asked.

“Hey, they did teach you a thing or two in that classroom,” Weathers replied. “We’ll do some on-site spot-checking a bit later, but we gotta do some aerial reconnaissance first. Come on.”

He drove down the small hill to the main gate, which slid open as the Range Rover approached. King knew that was because the sensors mounted on the fence had already scanned the vehicle—including the faces of its occupants—and matched them with the scheduled patrol in the computer. If any other vehicle had driven up, the heavy steel gate would have remained locked and an alert would have been sent to WN headquarters outside Adelaide.

King checked his phone to see if HQ had sent out another alert regarding possible vandals, or even if the security system had detected any trespassers out here and notified base. He shook his head as he realized that, of course, home base would have let them know if they were about to run into trouble.

“Relax. I’m telling you, we’re the only ones out here for a couple hundred kilometers.” Weathers drove inside and parked the vehicle near a quartet of plain, wind-scoured wooden bunkhouses, where either engineers or security would stay on a longer trip.

“Remember your water.” Weathers shook a liter bottle at King as he cracked his door, the comfortable air-conditioning evaporating like it had never existed as a searing, bone-dry breeze blew into the SUV’s cab.

King grabbed his bottle and also made sure his security belt, with its radio, handcuffs, pepper spray, collapsible metal baton and sidearm, was secure and properly situated on his hips. They’d removed the belts for the long drive out, but now that they’d arrived, he wanted to make sure he was properly attired for the assignment...just in case.

Opening his door, he stepped out into the midday heat, feeling his skin already drying in the baking climate. He put on a khaki bush hat to protect his head from the sun’s merciless rays, then walked to his partner, who was already at the back of the Rover.

Weathers had opened the rear door and was pulling a large, black-plastic case to the edge of the cargo area. He unsnapped the catches and lifted the lip to reveal a large black-and-red device nestled in a foam cutout. Removing it, he snapped two folding legs into place to allow the sleek industrial drone to stand. Picking up a hard-cased iPad from a narrow slot in the foam, he powered it up and opened the pilot app for the RMUS heavy-duty police drone, testing the five rotors and underslung 360-degree camera.

“This baby will cover the entire perimeter in about thirty minutes. We can record our flight, zoom in, the whole nine yards,” Weathers told his partner as he put the drone through its test paces. “Grab it and come on over here.”

King picked it up by the legs, surprised by its weight. He followed the older man a few meters away from the Range Rover and set it on the ground, then retreated to the rear of the vehicle.

Weathers hit a button on the tablet screen and the five rotors spun, accelerating until they were a ring of black blurs around the drone’s central housing. With a loud buzz and a puff of dust, it rose into the air, climbing until it was just a speck in the sky and could barely be heard.

He piloted it out over the first section of the facility. “Might as well take a load off,” he said. “Doubt we’re gonna see anything ’cept a few wallabies bouncing around.”

King nodded, his eyes glued to the tablet screen, which was giving them a drone’s-eye view of the LNG plant. The dozens of neat rows of white pipes gleamed in the sun, even under the light coating of ever-present dust that covered everything out here. He watched Weathers guide the drone out to the ten-foot, chain-link perimeter fence, the HD camera so clear he could see sunlight glinting off the points of the razor wire topping the security barrier.

“So far, so good.” Weathers fell silent as he started flying the drone along the fence. Section after section ticked by under the little vehicle’s camera—until both men saw something that made them pause.

King inhaled sharply. “Is that—”

“Fresh boot prints?” Weathers finished. “Looks like it.” He zoomed in on the tracks. “At least a couple people came through there, maybe as many as four.”

“But...no one’s been out here for weeks,” King said. “Those should have blown away by now.” He was all too familiar with the constantly shifting Outback, which could erase all signs of a person’s or vehicle’s passage in hours.

“Agreed,” Logan said as he opened another app on the iPad. “Let’s see where these go while I call this in.”

The drone began following the trail as the tablet connected with a satellite and routed the call to WN HQ. After a few seconds a pleasant-faced woman with a headset appeared in the window.

“Wallcorloo National Security Division, how may I help you?”

“This is Senior Patrol Officer Logan Weathers, with Probationary Officer Connor King at the Amadeus LNG plant,” Logan replied. “We’re reporting a drone sighting of what looks like trespasser tracks inside the facility. To the best of our knowledge, there isn’t supposed to be anyone on-site at this time.” As he spoke, Weathers isolated the footage and forwarded it to the security woman.

“We’ve received no notice of an intrusion.” The woman reviewed the snippet of video, a faint furrow appearing above the bridge of her nose. “Are you sure this isn’t leftover tracks by the last engineer team?”

“Pretty sure,” Weathers replied. “Especially considering they would have started out from right where we’re standing now. How should we follow up?”

“Just a moment.” The woman was typing something on the keyboard in front of her and began speaking into her headset, but King couldn’t hear what she was saying. He flashed a quizzical frown at Logan, who was still watching the screen.

“She’s kicking it upstairs. Standard CYA procedure.” Eyes still on the screen, Weathers removed a keychain from his belt, selected a small black key by feel and held it out to the younger man. “Open the weapons locker in the back.”

“You sure? I mean, she hasn’t even come back yet—”

“Officer Weathers, thanks for holding,” the woman said. “We are classifying this as a Level 1 Incident. You and your partner are to investigate the tracks and secure the area, making sure that no trespassers are on the grounds. Anyone you encounter should be taken into custody. Above all, take care to prevent any damage to the facility. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “We’ll report in once we’ve cleared the area. Weathers out.”

He blanked the comm screen and returned his attention to the drone’s camera view. “Hang on...what the hell’s going on here?”

King leaned over to glimpse what his partner was looking at. He caught flashes of figures moving among the pipes deep in the complex. Weathers zoomed the drone camera in as far as he could, until it appeared they were only a few meters from the trespassers.

The younger man grunted. “Definitely got blokes running around where they shouldn’t be. No sign of a vehicle, which means they must’ve stashed it nearby and walked in.”

Something was niggling at King’s mind and he voiced it the moment it crystallized. “But how’d they get inside without setting off any alarms?”

Weathers nodded. “Bloody good question. We’ll be sure to ask ’em once we have ’em in custody. Break out the heavy stuff, mate.”

Trying to control his suddenly shaky hand, King flipped back the carpet in the Rover’s cargo area and unlocked the steel-lined compartment underneath. Lifting the cover revealed two Heckler & Koch MP-5 K personal defense weapons and several 30-round magazines, plus black bulletproof vests and ceramic riot helmets with clear visors.

“How do you want to play this?” King asked, pleased to note that he sounded reasonably calm given the circumstances.

“We’re taking no chances.” Weathers set the drone to hover where it was in the crystal-clear blue sky, then pulled a vest out and slipped it over his head. “Suit up. Helmet, too.”

In a couple of minutes they were both outfitted in protective gear. The older man nodded at the compact submachine gun. “Load up with nonlethal, but grab a couple regular mags, just in case. Don’t forget we’re watching out for the facility, as well.”

“What if they’re armed, too, and using real bullets?” King asked as he cleared the chamber and checked the action on his HK. He then loaded a magazine of rubber bullets and chambered one.

“Well, we should have surprise. So, assuming we get the drop on them, we should have them dead-bang.” Logan adjusted his shooter’s glasses then flipped his helmet visor over his face. “If not, and they start shooting, we’re damn sure shooting back—with lead. I don’t care how much this place cost, I’m not laying my life down for it and you ain’t, either. Got it?”

King nodded as the older man set the iPad down and opened the drone control app on his smartphone, attaching it to his forearm with a Velcro sleeve. “Good, let’s go catch us some vandals.”

His hammering heart feeling like it had risen to the back to his throat, King followed his partner in the approved fashion, a meter back and a meter off to his right. The older man held his HK in a loose port arms, ready to bring the weapon into action at a moment’s notice. In minutes, they’d left the Rover behind and entered the maze of parallel pipes and pumping control stations of the facility proper.

“We probably aren’t gonna see them for a few minutes as least, but keep your eyes open, anyway,” Weathers muttered as they checked a corner before creeping around it. “If they’re smart enough to bust in without setting off the alarms—”

His voice was cut off in midsentence and King felt drops of something patter across his helmet and visor like a burst of rain. He glanced at his partner to ask him what had happened, only to see the other man falling to the ground, blood fountaining from his misshapen head as the report of the weapon that had killed him thundered across the desert.

King stood stock-still for a moment before his reflexes kicked in and he dived to the hard-packed dirt as another shot buzzed overhead, followed by the report again. Weathers’s body had finished its graceless collapse and lay in an ungainly heap, his arms and legs twitching as his nervous system sent last, fruitless, messages to limbs incapable of reacting anymore.

King could hear a high-pitched wheezing and it took him a moment to realize he was making the noise as he panted for breath. Blood roared in his ears as his pressure spiked and he tasted an acrid, metallic tang in his suddenly dry mouth. His training reasserted itself after a few moments and he scrabbled for his radio, which would link to a satellite relay and allow him to call back to base.

“WN Security, officer down! I repeat, officer down! This is Probationary Officer Connor King. Come in please!” he said.

A voice replied after a couple seconds’ delay. “This is WN Security. Go ahead, Officer King.”

“I am under fire by unknown number of assailants at the Amadeus LNG site! My partner is down. I think—I think he’s dead!” King was sure of it, actually, but he didn’t want to commit to that over the radio. “I’ve taken cover nearby, please advise!”

“All right, Officer King, stay calm,” the dispatcher said. “Do you have a visual on your attackers?”

“Uh, no, not really...hang on.” Swallowing the fist-sized lump in his throat, King turned and stuck his head out past the corner of the pipe wall for a brief second, then pulled it back, expecting to see two or three attackers charging toward him.

But other than Weathers’s motionless body, there was no one there.

“Officer King, please report your status,” the voice said.

“No—I have no visual. Repeat, I have no visual on the assailants.”

“All right. We’re sending reinforcements via helicopter, but they won’t be there for approximately three hours. You are to fall back to your vehicle and exit the perimeter, then take up a defensive position to cover the front gate. Help is on the way. Do you understand?”

“Affirmative.” King glanced over at Weathers’s legs. “What about...what about Officer Weathers?”

“Our telemetry readings show him to be deceased” came the dispassionate reply. “We do not want you to risk your own life trying to recover his body. Fall back as ordered, and your backup team will assist you upon their arrival.”

“Yeah...yeah, I hear you. Officer King falling back as ordered.” He cut the transmission and holstered his radio then gripped his subgun tighter and decided to risk one more glance down the corridor of pipes before moving out. Taking a deep breath, he readied his weapon to fire before peeking out again.

And, once again, the corridor was completely empty. What the hell? Where were they? he wondered. Glancing at his partner’s body, he focused on the smartphone on Weathers’s forearm, wondering if he should retrieve it. What, and risk getting his head blown off, as well? he thought. He had to get the hell out of there, like they’d told him.

The only problem was that he would have to run at least a couple straightaways to get back to the Rover—and there was every indication that the unseen shooter was waiting for him to do just that. For a moment he thought of just hunkering down and waiting for help to arrive, but he discarded that plan since the other people on-site might already be creeping up on him right now.

Time to go. King rose, took one last deep breath and then took off running back the way he’d come. He zigzagged as erratically as possible, trying to throw off the aim of anyone looking to shoot him, and expecting to feel the punch of a bullet between his shoulder blades at any moment. A ghoulish thought ran through his mind as he ran for his life: at least a head shot would mean he’d never feel it...

The left corner that should give him cover from the shooter was only a few meters ahead, and King poured on the speed, giving it everything he had. He juked one more time, then aimed for the corner and rounded it in a spray of desert dust. Once there, he plastered his back against the vertical row of pipes and waited a few moments, sucking in the parching desert air. Remembering his water bottle, he grabbed it and drained it. The warm, flat liquid had never tasted so good.