Desert Air - 7. DA Ch 7 - Spy on the Run

I collected my wet clothes from the patio, and hung them over the dining chairs in the kitchen, and the oilskin I put on a peg near the back door, before returning to the lounge room to relax, just as the front door opened, and Rhodes walked in smiling.

“Mum thought you might be waiting out the rain, but she wanted me to come over and check,” my brothers said to me. “Yes, it is nice to have a bit of piece and quiet from the homestead every now and then,” I replied, and Rhodes laughed, “Yes, I am beginning to understand now,” Rhodes said.

“I will be over there shortly,” I announced, “I brought over this umbrella if you want to come over now, or maybe I will just leave it here for you when you are ready. Mum said to tell you that lunch will be ready in half an hour,” Rhodes said before exiting the cottage and crossing over to the homestead in his oilskins and wide brim hat.

Lunch was its usual Christmas feast, plenty of food and soft drinks, as our parents rarely drank alcohol, and afterwards we sat in the lounge and watched a couple of Christmas movies. The Parkinson’s ended up staying for three days, as we had to wait for the airstrip to dry out for a day, before it was safe enough to take off and land again.

Taking Mr and Mrs Parkinson back in my plane, I decided to fly a little to the west, to allow them to get an aerial view of the Airbase, with all the work that has taken place, and as we arrived I dipped to the left, and at the same time asking them to take a look below on their left, and I began to circle and get lower, so they could get a better look.

“Wow, the airstrips look great with the new coating of bitumen on it,” Mr Parkinson stated, “Yes it does, the two biggest shed you see are the workshops at the end of runway 2 and the hospital located halfway along the north side of the taxiway.

There will be eleven sheds that will be rebuilt to almost the exact size and layout as it was back during the second world war, the shipping container that you see behind the operations shed, will be moved over to our place, now that all of the remains have been gathered, identified and catalogued,” I responded.

I turned the plane and headed for the Corunna Downs runway where I landed safely on the shorter runway, stopping just short of the fence, as I spun the plane around so it is ready to take off again. Once I had helped my passengers to climb down and retrieve their luggage, I smiled.

“Thankyou for flying with Kendrik Airways,” I said which had both of them laughing, “Thankyou for coming to collect us and bring us home, and the aerial tour of the airbase,” Mrs Parkinson replied.

“It was my pleasure, I will see you both again soon, bye now,” I said before climbing back into the cockpit and checking my gauges I started up the plane and taxied down the airfield down to the start of the longer runway, as the ground is still a bit slippery, and I didn’t want to take any risks.

Once I was in the air, I headed back to base, landing on the shorter runway, and stopping about 150 metres from the end, before shutting off the engines. I walked to the operations shed and looked back towards the plane, trying to picture the planned positioning of the large Liberator plane, and I nodded that it was the perfect spot.

As I turned to walk down the taxiway towards the aircraft pits, a flash of a reflection caught my attention, and instead of looking that way, I continued walking, turning onto the taxi road, that provides aircraft access to the pits, and I stopped to look at the first pit, which looks like has been carefully brought back to its original state, with a horseshoe shaped dirt and rock wall, and a level area in the centre.

Cutting across the ground towards the centre of the taxiway, I stopped to look at the track created by vehicle driving into the property, cutting across the taxiway and the airfield, and I decided that this track needs to be removed, so it is no longer used by anyone, and that the pre-existing tracks created during the war should be the only tracks used.

While looking at the tracks, I slowly looked around the surrounding landscape, and I caught the reflection again, which was coming from up in the hills, due north of the airfield. I casually walked back to the plane, and after doing my usual pre-flight checks, I started the plane up spun it around and taxied down to the junction with the other runway, which I turned onto and gave full throttle to take off.

Once I was in the air, I kept down low, and did a slow circle to the north, to see if I could spot anything on the ground, and although it was well hidden, I eventually found a four wheel drive vehicle, covered in Spinifex and beside it was a campsite.

Retrieving the sat phone which Dad insisted that I carry with me every time I am in my plane I made a call, “Mr Parkinson, you have a trespasser on your land, approximately four kilometres north of the air base, a grey Toyota Landcruiser, looks like he has set up camp there,” I said when the call was answered.

“Can you land here and help me catch him, while my wife calls the police?” Mr Parkinson asked, “Yes, I am heading your way now, be there shortly, bye,” I responded before ending the call.

“Port Hedland Air Traffic Control, this is Tango Juliet 1959, over,” I said over the radio, “Receiving 1959, go ahead, over,” came a quick response, “This is Jexon Kendrik speaking, I am flying over the Corunna Airbase, there is a trespasser spying on the airbase, he has a campsite 4 clicks north of the airbase, and he has been doing surveillance on the base, can you pass this on to Mable Bar Police please, over,” I said.

“Will do 1959, over and out,” came the reply, as I prepared to land back on the Corunna Downs airfield, where I saw not just the station vehicle but my ute also parked on the side of the runway. Once the plane was shut down, I climbed out and Mr Parkinson approached.

“We thought two vehicles are better than one, and yours has been topped up with fuel, lets get moving before he tries to flee,” Mr Parkinson said as he handed over my keys. “If he tries to head west at the junction, he will not be able to cross the creek, as it is still flowing fast from the looks of it by air,” I commented.

“My thoughts too, if he is sensible, he will head for Marble Bar, but he police will block his way, as they are on their way down now,” Mr Parkinson replied, before climbing into his vehicle and starting off north, with me following close behind.

At the first main creek crossing, three kilometres north of the homestead, the creek was running, but not enough to stop us from crossing, as we continued north for the junction, to the northern entrance to the base, where we stopped, and there was no fresh tyre marks coming from that direction.

“Damn the idiot has gone west, he is bound to get stuck in that creek crossing as it is fairly deep,” Mr Parkinson said cursing, as he jumped back into the vehicle and turned west, while I grabbed the sat phone and called Marble Bar Police.

“Hello, this is Jexon Kendrik, the trespasser has not come towards the main road, he has turned west, and Mr Parkinson is following, can you pass that onto your colleague who is heading this way,” I said when the call was answered, and I was told to hold, and in the background I could hear a radio call being made.

“MB Police Mobile one, over,” I heard, “Mobile one receiving, do you have more information for me, over?” came a response. “Yes Sergeant, Mr Kendrik is on the line to inform us that the trespasser has not turned to come towards town but turned west instead, and that Mr Parkinson the station owner, is following him, over” the first officer say and I groaned when I heard that the sergeant is the one on his way out here to intercept the trespasser.

“Put him on… Kendrik what is your location, over,” the sergeant asked, “I am at the main station access road turnoff, that leads to the north end of the base, over” I responded, “Does Mr Parkinson think he can get far, over,” the sergeant asked.

“No sergeant, there is a creek crossing about five clicks west of the junction north of the airbase, and another one about two clicks further, both which Mr Patterson said are deep, when flowing.

I flew over that area less than thirty minutes ago, and both of them are running fast, but the bigger crossing another 1 ½ clicks on is the main one to worry about, no way will he get past that one, over,” I responded.

“Ok, remain there till I arrive, you know the area better than me, so you can be my guide, over and out,” the sergeant said, so I ended the call and waited. Twenty minutes later, a heard a vehicle approaching from the north, and I was expecting to see a police four wheel drive, but instead it was a beefed up Holden Colorado, which looks like the suspension has been raised and it was towing a trailer, with something on the back.

“Mr Kendrik, this is my own personal vehicle, the ATV Frontier 6 x 6 is my own and can handle all kinds of terrain this area has, lead the way,” the police sergeant said to me, and I jumped into my vehicle and headed west.

When we arrived at the first crossing, I stopped to check the tyre marks, and there were clearly two fresh prints, “This is as far as I go, I am going to return to Corunna Downs and get my plane in the air, maybe I can find him again,” I said to the sergeant.

“Good thinking, do you have VHF radio in your plane?” the sergeant asked me, “Yes, standard Air-band radio, 108 to 137 megahertz, I also have a UHF radio, to keep in touch with the homestead, plus I have a sat phone too,” I replied.

“Right, I have UHF and VHF, stay of channel 12 on UHF radio, that is what we use for search and rescues with the SES, I am going to take the Frontier from here on, so stay in touch,” the sergeant said to me, and I nodded in agreement, and jumping into my vehicle I retraced my movements back to Corunna Downs Station, where Mrs Parkinson came out.

“He has fled westwards, your husband and the police sergeant are following his tracks, I am going to take my plane up to see if I can track them, I said to Mrs Parkinson, “Just a moment young man, let me quickly make up some sandwiches and some soup for you,” she responded before rushing inside, and I followed her inside.

“Just going to use the bathroom, Mrs P,” I called out, and I headed for the nearest bathroom, returning to the kitchen a few minutes later, where Mrs Parkinson had made up two rounds of sandwiches, a thermos of soup, plus some cake and a banana and apple.

“Take care up there please,” she said to me, “Will do Mrs P, and tune into channel 12 to monitor what is happening, and don’t worry, all will be fine,” I said, as I gave her a quick hug, before collecting the food and soup and dashing out the door.

Once in the air, I followed the road north then west at the junction, where I spotted the sergeants vehicle and trailer, minus the ATV, and I continued on, and I spotted Mr Parkinson’s vehicle on the other side of the second creek with the hood up.