The Defector Read online

  ‘Yeah, just a little nippy, but I'll be ok.’

  The moon appeared briefly from behind a cloud, lighting up the surf-line crashing onto the beach a few hundred yards from our hiding place. It had been a difficult twenty four hours.

  The walk had been a nightmare. Even with the protection of the plasters and socks I had bought, my cut feet had deteriorated badly. We had stumbled on till daylight, totally exhausted. When the sun peered gloomily over a horizon as cloudy as the situation, we were still a couple of miles short of the goal. And we had neither radio, torch nor surfboards for tonight. Then we got lucky. We walked past a marina just after dawn. Leaving Kate on lookout on the road, I'd broken into four boats before finding everything I was looking for. I guess handheld VHF's in waterproof bags are the kind of thing most sensible boat owners take home with them. The fourth had been too stupid or too lazy - everyone had a torch. I'd had to take a pile of other junk from all of them as well - to make it look like your normal, everyday, marine ransacking. All the other stuff had then been dumped in Narrabeen Lakes. I didn't feel good about it.

  We'd got to the beach just after nine and there had been a lot of surfers out already, it was a good day then. There was no wind, and the glassy waves were providing long rides. We trudged on until we reached the rocky headland at the northern end that Scott had described. We'd found a spot up in the grass at the back of the beach and slept till lunchtime. It had been the wind that had woken me, and when I rolled over to check out the water I could see nearly everybody had gone. The onshore breeze was blowing the tops off the waves. Even I could tell the surf was nowhere near as good.

  Kate had still been asleep, blonde hair strewn over the sand. I left her in peace, and sat and watched the waves and those few surfers who were left. It didn't take long to see what Scott had been talking about. Everyone new into the water or riding all the way to the beach walked out at the river mouth, in an area of flat water, and scarcely needed to paddle before they were shot past the break by the outflow. I looked again at the point in the moonlight. I had been over it in my mind so many times I was sure I could do it in my sleep. Which was good, because I was probably going to have to.

  I stifled a yawn and checked my watch again, 12.35. They were late now, no question. Something must have happened. There was no wind out there. Maybe engine trouble. Maybe cop trouble. I gripped the radio and stared at it. I had no idea how much battery power was left. I hated to use it before we needed it.

  ‘They're late.’ I whispered hoarsely to Kate.

  ‘I know.’ she muttered.

  ‘Have they got enough people to handle the boat?’ I said.

  She looked at me, ‘I hadn't thought about that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There's only three of them, Scott, Duval and the first mate Ben. They'll be relying on us for the rest of the manpower.’

  ‘So you think they're having a problem handling the boat?’

  ‘No, no, three's plenty just to get it off the dock and motor up here, but it isn't many to go all the way to Hong Kong with.’

  ‘I see what you mean, it looks suspicious.’

  Kate nodded, ‘A little.’

  I stared out into the darkness of the ocean, ‘There's nothing we can do about it now.’ I said. Then after a silence, ‘Why is Duval coming? I wouldn't have thought he and Scott would want to be stuck on a boat together.’

  ‘He's the only other person on the payroll, apart from Scott, Ben and myself. The brewery won't part with any money they don't have to, so extra delivery crew were out of the question. We didn't have any choice.’

  ‘They're going to be fun together after all this sponsorship hassle.’

  ‘Yeah, we might have got someone to do it for free, but there was no time to get it sorted with Scott moving the departure forward.’

  I grunted an acknowledgement. It was lucky for us he had.

  I wasn't going to worry about it, there were too many other things to worry about. The boards had been a problem. We'd finally had to bite the bullet on that and go and buy them. There was a surf shop a mile or so from here, back in Narrabeen itself. It was one of those places run by an enthusiast, it just reeked of the sport. Old posters and broken boards competed for space with the glistening new models and the dayglow displays of accessories. It had been no fun being out in the open in daylight, with no idea of how well publicised and widespread the search had become. But the sunglasses and caps had done the job and we'd had no trouble.

  We had gone in one at a time, an hour apart. Kate had been first since I considered that less risky for her, and came back with a lurid short board and wetsuit. Then it was my turn, the salesman had been helpful. Although he had baffled me for a while with arcane talk of soft rails, moderate rocker and lots of volume in the nose, once I'd explained I only wanted something I could just have a go on, he had dug out a huge second-hand board from the back room. It was ten foot if it was an inch. It was a semi-trailer to the Ferrari's that decorated the shop. I must have looked dubious, but he explained that this thing would keep me afloat, whereas the short boards would sink under my weight. That sounded good to me. It had belonged to some old timer who just wanted to see it go to a good home. That seemed like a good omen too, and I had paid out the hundred bucks he had asked.

  When I got back to the beach Kate had ribbed me mercilessly about my learner's truck. It was all very well for her to gloat, she'd done this before. She might scoff but it was certainly a fine piece of work, the grain of the wood gloriously brought out by the varnish. It was so different from the gaudy short-boards. I had already fallen for it. This was my passport out of here.

  I stared back out to sea. With no moon all I could see of the ocean was the phosphorescence of breaking surf. And I could hear it. There was a big swell. I remembered Scott's words about practicing and wished I'd taken the advice. But after the surf shop we had just wanted to hide up. Too much exposure in the harsh light of day. Especially as it meant losing the cap and the shades to get in the water. No, the idea of getting picked up while grabbing a few practice waves had been too scary. The downside was that I now had no idea what I was in for. Kate was a pretty good surfer and we'd gone through the basics of paddling through the break. But I had a feeling that talking about it and watching wasn't going to be the same as doing.

  If the boat turned up. I glanced at my watch again, quarter to one, where the hell were they? I scanned the non-existent horizon, there was nothing out there but blackness. Forty five minutes, what could hold them up for forty five minutes? I looked at the radio. They were not supposed to talk to us unless something went wrong. Had something gone wrong? I clicked the switch, and dialled into channel 71. There was nothing but hissing. I tried a couple of the buttons and found that the one called squelch seemed to suppress the noise. Now there was just silence.

  ‘What are you doing?’ whispered Kate.

  ‘I thought we'd better listen on 71 in case they've got problems and they're trying to talk to us.’

  She nodded in agreement, ‘Good idea.’

  I listened to the silence as the minutes ticked away. Maybe they were out there and their lights had failed. No, they would at least have torches. Maybe the cops had forced them to stay. Or spent hours searching the boat. But if that was the case they were still under serious suspicion. Or someone had pulled strings inside the police. I tapped at the radio restlessly. And finally gave in, I clicked the transmit button down, ‘Southern Cross, Southern Cross. Do you read me, over.’

  ‘They're not supposed to talk to us!’ hissed Kate.

  ‘Shhh.’ I turned the volume up as loud as I dared and the squelch down as low. I listened intently to the crackle of static for another couple of minutes. Nothing. I switched the radio off.

  ‘Nothing has gone wrong Martin. Just be patient.’ muttered Kate, staring out to sea. I felt her go tense before I heard the words, ‘There, a light, I see them!’

  I stared out into the blackness, following her arm.
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  There it was. A light. I was sure I saw a light. There, again, it topped a wave. The tiniest glimmer. It was still a way off, or maybe it wasn't. I had no idea of distance out there, it was impossible to tell. ‘How far do you think?’ I asked Kate urgently.

  ‘Maybe a mile out. We should go.’

  I eased up to a crouch, ‘Here, you take the radio.’ I said, ‘Tuck it in the wetsuit, it'll be safe there till we need it.’ I watched Kate slide her torch in with it, and then helped her with the zip. She already had my wallet and passport in a plastic bag. I stuck my torch in the shoulder strap of the wetsuit. I had a good look around, this was the high risk part, getting in the water. Suspicious as hell, a couple surfing at night. Nothing stirred, not even the grass. No moonlight romancers. I strapped the leg rope on and picked up the board. It wasn't light that was for sure.

  ‘Let's go.’ I said, voice cracking a little with nerves.

  Kate led out from the dunes and headed down towards the ocean. Hefting the weight under my arm, and with a final look around to see if she had attracted any attention, I started to trot down the incline after her. Almost immediately the leg-rope got tangled round my feet and I tumbled forward, stifling a curse. I bounced to a stop with a mouthful of sand and the board on my head. I struggled to a sitting position.

  Kate was beside me, ‘You ok?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You're supposed to put the leg rope on after you get to the water.’ she muttered.

  ‘Shhh.’ I pulled her down flat onto the sand, ‘Don't move.’ We lay still for a couple of minutes, but it seemed that no one had noticed. There was no one to notice.

  ‘Happy now?’ asked Kate, finally.

  ‘Yeah, ok, let's get it over with.’

  I pulled the Velcro strap off my leg, coiled it in my left hand, picked up the board with my right and tried again. This time I did at least reach the sea safely. I reattached the leg-rope and waded out until I was waist deep. Kate was about ten yards away to my left. I watched her push the board forward, jump on and start paddling, looked easy enough. Maybe I should be a bit more over that way though. But it was hard to tell in the darkness.

  I didn't see the wave, not until it broke into white water. Then, a hiss, a wall of foam, over my head! There was no time to do anything. I stayed on my feet, for a moment, then they were sucked from underneath me as firm sand became slurry. I crashed into the water and was immediately dumped on by another wave. The board had gone from my arm and I thrashed around looking for it. There was a jerk on my leg as the board surfed inshore without me and was brought up by the leg rope.

  I was spluttering, choking. I couldn't find the beach under my feet. Every time I came up another wave crashed on my head. Everything was salt water and sand. The board tugging at my leg like an anxious puppy on a lead. Finally I managed a breathing space and looked over my shoulder - only to see the mother of all waves creaming towards me. I started stroking frantically, I could feel myself rise on the face of the wave, but I just paddled like hell regardless. Suddenly I was surging forward, seemingly weightless in a mound of frothing water. The beach rushed towards me and I just held my breath and hoped. A surge of adrenalin coming with the speed and motion. The wave expended itself with a crash and threw me nose first into the sand. I grabbed at the beach desperately as it slipped through my fingers. The leg-rope was slack then came up taut again as this time the board was washed back offshore. I could already feel the backwash trying to suck me back out. But somehow I managed to find my feet and I threw myself up the beach - clear of the water. I dragged the board towards me on the leg-rope and finally it was all quiet.

  I collapsed back on the sand. What a disaster. Surely someone must have seen me. I couldn't get caught now, not like this. I had to get back out there. No more screw-ups. I must have drifted too far to the right, in the main break. I needed to go further into the river. Breathing heavily and still blowing water from nose and mouth I sat up and looked around. Where the hell was Kate? There was no sign of her. And she had the radio. The thought made me reach for the torch. Gone. A cold chill blew over me, this wasn't good, I had to get out there. I got back on my feet and picked up the board. No sound from the beach, I heard a car move past on the road, but it was hidden by the dunes. This time I walked into the middle of the river before trying to move offshore. The bottom was much rockier here and I slipped painfully on my damaged feet as I tried to pick my way forward in the dark. There was a much more gentle rise and fall of the swell, I could hear the break out to my right. I was waist deep now, pushing the board with my hand. It all seemed calm and gentle compared to the previous occasion. I stood still and looked and listened carefully.

  Ahead of me the point poked out. Still no sign of Kate. I could feel the water washing seawards around my waist. This was the place. I pushed the board forward, leapt on and started to paddle. The first few strokes were placid enough, then I could feel the board start to rise underneath me. It wobbled and I stopped paddling to hang on. Immediately it started to spin and I could feel the next wave lifting the board at an angle. I stroked strongly on the right side to straighten up. And dropped down the back of the wave in reasonable shape. This wasn't too bad. I took another couple of waves before snatching a quick look around. It was so damn dark.

  I was already a long way out from the beach and I seemed to have been swept south too, as I was a lot further out from the point now. I must be beyond the break, I could see the white tops curling away inshore off to my right, but here there only appeared to be the gentler rise and fall of the swell. I looked forward again as the nose started to rise. This was a bigger one, much bigger. The board seemed to be climbing for ever before it finally pushed through the crest and dropped heavily into the trough behind it. I clung desperately as the board fell and slammed into the back of the wave. There had been white water there, it was close to breaking. I started to paddle quickly, trying to move offshore, past the break. The next one was bigger still. But I almost had the technique, paddle fast into them then just at the top, as the board goes light under you, grab hold and hang on for the ride down the back. But as we topped this one the moon once again popped out the back of a cloud and I saw the wave from hell.

  Twenty yards away and it was much, much bigger. Already a jagged comb of white water was snapping at the top. If that broke before I got to it, it would carry me all the way back inshore. I paddled harder, tearing at unfamiliar muscles, the memory of being caught in the impact zone all too recent. The board flew as I sliced towards the break. I struggled to keep my position, willing the heavy board towards the wave. The nose started to rise. I daren't look up but it already seemed darker, the bloody thing must be curling right over me.

  Still I was going up, the board was almost vertical. I was going over backwards! I started to slide off the board and I grabbed frantically at the nose. I had to push that over the top. The darkness turned to white and for an instant I thought I was gone. My heart missed a beat. I'd be ripped and shredded as I was launched back towards the beach. Then I was through it. Flying down the other side in the enormous trough. I looked up; did it have a bigger brother? But there was nothing, almost flat water. I could hear the crash and roar as the monster thundered inshore, taking all the energy of ten waves with it.

  This flat spot was my chance, and I paddled as hard as I could to get offshore. If I was outside the impact zone of that thing, I would be completely safe in another couple of hundred yards. I counted to sixty and paddled like hell. Breathing fast by forty, it was a struggle just to keep going for the full count. The waves now were big, but they were a long, unbroken swell. I could enjoy the rise and fall as I dipped over them. At the count of sixty I thankfully sat upright to take my bearings. The board was stable and I had plenty of time to look around. I was a long way out. All I could see of the beach were the streetlights on the road behind it. Even the headland, which had been so close, was lost in the night. But much more importantly where was Kate and the boat? I scanned the
darkness. An eighty foot boat with lights wouldn't be easy to spot from the board in these waves. I stood no chance of finding Kate. Was she alright? She could look after herself, I reasoned, she was the one with the surfing experience. Kate would be alright, she had the radio and the torch. They would find her. Maybe they had already found her.

  I watched anxiously for what seemed like an eternity. A profound sense of loneliness overcame me. I started to shake like a leaf from cold and emotional reaction. It was a big ocean and I was out here on my own. I couldn't go back in and I couldn't call for help. I tried not to think about sharks. Waves of panic tumbled over me - maybe Scott had found Kate and gone without me. She had said he was suspicious. He wouldn't have believed his luck when he found Kate alone - he'd have picked her up and left me.

  No.

  It wasn't like that, Kate wouldn't let him. She loved me, I was sure she did. She wouldn't leave without me. She would make Scott search this ocean to eternity to find me. Please, let it be so. I was on the edge, exhaustion, emotional stress and just plain fear - all were slowly levering me over into the abyss.

  I slid up the face of another wave. A red light. It was them. Lost again in the swell now but I was sure it was them.

  ‘HEY!!!’

  I screamed at the top of my lungs, A frighteningly high pitched, fear-laced sound came out. I leaned forward into the prone position and started to paddle. Stroke, stroke, forcing tired arms, stiff and cramped with cold, to work. Paddle like hell Martin. I counted to thirty. Slid upright even as the board glided over another wave. There they were, but a white light, a stern light, they were going the wrong way, they were leaving.

  ‘HERE, OVER HERE!!’

  It was a better sound, deeper, controlled, it would carry further. I pushed back down onto the board and started to paddle again. Muscles searing, I forced myself to count to sixty this time, I had to get closer so they could hear me. They were looking for a torch not listening for a voice. The engine would be on, Christ they'd never hear me. I forced myself harder. It doesn't matter if it hurts. If not now, then when. If not now, then when. I repeated my college training litany over and over. Losing count. Ten more strokes. Choking with the pain. I took a face-full of water and swallowed some.