Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 13

With her hair falling across her face, Jennifer sagged onto the bed and wept into her hands. She prayed that Peter would be safe - he just had to be safe - she loved him far too much for it to be otherwise.

Andrew and Jennifer talked far into the night. He admitted that Peter had certainly surprised him with his gun and the 'box of death', as Peter had called that special little case of his. Staring at his sister, he was almost demanding an answer to his unvoiced question. His mind could only wonder about the reasons for Peter having those weapons and why he knew death so well. He couldn't help concluding that Jennifer loved a criminal.

Her eyes dropped before her brother's steady gaze. She was tempted to tell him of Peter's history.

On this subject, however, she remained silent. Instead, turning to her brother, she announced, "I intend marrying that man. I'll have his children and together we'll make our way through life hand-in-hand. There is nothing you, nor Mum nor Dad will say that can ever change that."

So strident and vehement was she that Andrew could only answer softly, "Jennifer, all we want is your happiness, so forget that we will stand in your way. He loves you and you love him. Past history doesn't matter at all. It's the two of you - your life and your future and, frankly, I'm so pleased because he sure is someone special." He covered her with a blanket.

Eventually she drifted off into a restless sleep.

In the truck, Peter could hear the engine's sweet song. He pressed the controls and the windows slid silently upwards until he and the dummy were safe in the cocoon of the cab.

No need for tablets tonight, he was burning with a red-hot anger. He watched that car dart in and out of the late night traffic, keeping a respectable distance behind him as if trying to disguise the fact that it was shadowing him.

Eventually, at the old township of Windsor, the traffic had dwindled so there was just that one car and the truck heading westwards. Peter began thinking ahead to where they would make a move. His mind raced to map the road through the mountains and he decided that he would make it as difficult as possible for them. That poor little car would find the pathway very rocky indeed.

Accepting the plan, he decided it was time he acted upon the first stage. Braking suddenly, he watched the car swerve and skid, trying to avoid a collision. Then he accelerated quickly, leaving the car floundering in his wake. Laughing, he knew their frustration was building.

Constantly he repeated the maneuver as if annoyed by their following him, their high beam glaring in his mirrors. Through the tight corners up through Kurrajong he rocketed, as though driving a racing car. The car behind struggled to keep up. As the first overtaking lanes drew closer, he watched the car move out to pass.

Lazily he let the truck drift across into the same lane and savored the result when he heard a harsh honking on the horn and looked down to see the lights in the car interior switched on and fists waved at him.

The car dropped back.

Knowing that their road rage was building and would hamper their planning, Peter smirked and ruthlessly plotted the next step. Repeatedly, the car pulled out to overtake and every time Peter allowed the truck to drift across and block them. The flashing of their lights and the blasts on their horn did nothing other than make the truck roar off into the distance, leaving the car floundering in its wake.

Suddenly Peter realized the weather had changed. It had begun to rain. Grinning, he knew that nature was about to assist him. The rain slashed down and the truck just ploughed its way through the mist and rain, splashing through the water across the road. Peter knew the truck was better equipped to cope with severe weather than was the car. Ahead loomed the Mount Tomah sign - 'Mount Tomah Overtaking Lane 5kms Ahead'- and he knew the time had arrived for the game to end.

As he approached the long, winding ascent, he slowed and slowed as though the truck was finding the grade a little steep and he could imagine the excitement and the licking of lips as the three were thinking of finally catching up and getting their hands on Jennifer.

His years of studying psychology told him the people in that car had only one thing on their mind -- what they would do to Jennifer and that thought was clouding their rational thinking.

They were incapable of believing they were driving into a trap and death. Convinced they were indestructible, they believed the punishment they would hand out to Jennifer was their God given right.

As there were three of them and only one driver with the woman they would have no problems with the rape and two murders. They would never consider that the driver of this truck held their lives in his hands.

Peter was ready.

The overtaking lane seemed to rush up though the darkness and the rain. Giving them plenty of room to make their move, Peter watched in the mirror as the two windows on his side of the car rolled down and he saw two guns pointed at the truck. He heard 'pop, pop, pop' and felt a sting in his right leg as at least one bullet struck him. At the same time, the truck hurled itself ahead of the car and Peter switched on the floodlights to blind the driver.

The steep corner marking the end of the overtaking lane rushed into view and the truck rocketed around, all tires screaming their torture as they clung tenaciously to the road. Not so lucky was the car as it plunged head-on into the rock wall to explode into a huge fireball.

A single shrill scream for help quickly faded.

The truck skidded to a stop and Peter climbed down from the cabin and ripped the wires from the floodlights. He grabbed the fire extinguisher from its mounting, and taking the switch, the wires and his packet of darts with him, he tossed them into the ferocious fire as he played the foaming jet of the truck's fire extinguisher uselessly over the flames.

The sound of a siren broke into his thoughts just as the full realization hit him that his right shoe was full of moisture yet he knew he hadn't stepped into a pool of water. Slowly he crumpled to the ground. Unconscious, he knew nothing of the arrival off the police, the rescue services, the fire brigade or the Care Flight Helicopter that carried him to hospital.

Daylight arrived.

Jennifer and Andrew woke to the sounds of Joe roaring as he came up the stairs.

"Where the hell are you Peter, and where the hell have you hidden the Bathurst truck?" Joe stood staring unbelieving and stony faced when he saw the two of them through the doorway of the flat.

"What are you two doing here?" Joe did not pause for an answer. "What's the stupid bastard done this time?" He threw the two morning papers on the table. "Look at the headlines and the pictures!"

Jennifer and Andrew just looked at each other, amazed. It was how Peter said it would be. Getting no reply and still furious, Joe stomped back downstairs.

Andrew grabbed one paper and Jennifer the other.

'MOUNTAIN ROAD CLAIMS MORE VICTIMS' screamed one paper, and the photo showed the burnt out wreckage of a car with the truck in the background. The other was more bloodthirsty and the photo more graphic as it showed Peter sprawled on the ground with the fire raging in the background.

Jennifer screamed and fainted.

Joe reached for the phone and dialed the yard boss of the Bathurst trucking company. "What did you say? Are you mad? Bathurst Police will tell you nothing," and he broke into Italian.

The twins couldn't follow the conversation.

"What a mess, what a bloody mess. Yes, I will make those arrangements. Thanks for the call." Joe hung up and stared at Andrew. His stance was that of a beaten man.

Slowly he shook himself before helping Andrew to lift Jennifer onto the bed. Yelling to the rest of the team downstairs, "Put all calls through up here," he sat and waited for Jennifer to recover.

Slowly, she sat up, and with slow unsure steps, joined them at the table.

Raiding Peter's store of alcohol, Joe poured three small glasses of brandy and placed one before each seat before speaking.

"I won't ask what you know of last night's events because I know Peter wouldn't have wished you to know anything in the first place. That call was from the boss of the trucking company in Bathurst who'll be ringing back very soon with more news.

"Bathurst Police had phoned him. They'd impounded the truck, as there had been an attempted armed hi-jacking. He could give no other news as the police would say nothing until they had contacted the next-of-kin."

His eyes welled as his worry for Peter overcame his thoughts, but he put on a brave face as he tried to lighten the situation.

"Hey Jennifer, you know Peter is a tough bugger. He really is and you know he loves you so don't give up on him, Okay?" He tried to sound brighter than he felt.

Silence!

They each took a small sip of their brandy.

It was deathly quiet until Jennifer banged her glass on the table, spilling brandy over her hand and onto the timber surface.

"Why have I been so damn stupid with him?"

They sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts, each face etched with the anguish in their hearts.

The phone rang and Joe jumped to answer it. "Oh, yes. Yes. Yes. What? They can't tell you even now? What the hell is going on?"

Again, he broke into Italian before continuing the conversation. Eventually, conversation ended, he turned to the twins.

"The news is both good and bad. Three people died in the accident and a chopper lifted out the fourth one with bullet wounds. My guess is that the fourth one was Peter, but only time will tell and we can pray hard that it was him. He still has some trucks to deliver and he never leaves a job undone."

Heart-rending sobs met his pitiful attempt to lift Jennifer's spirits.

The phone rang again.

"What? What did you say? Oh, no - say that again. The police are here. They want to speak to Jennifer. Bring them up here immediately."

Jennifer looked destroyed as if the sound of the feet on the stairs was the march of Cerberus, the hound from Hades.

"Miss Blake - and you are?" A detective studied Andrew.

"I'm Jennifer's twin brother, Andrew Blake. Here in Sydney on business." Andrew pulled himself together.

"What was the business?" The detective doggedly stuck to his questioning.

"I came here to meet Peter O'Brien prior to his engagement to my sister. It was a kind of twin brother's approval meeting. We met last night and had a wonderful Indian meal, went to his apartment and came here so he could show me his workshop. I was most impressed. Then he drove off to deliver a truck to Bathurst.

"We spent the night here as Jennifer was feeling too under the weather to drive and I had been drinking. Peter had been the designated driver for the night."

"Why was there a red-haired dummy in his cab?" The detective was suspicious of everything.

"We'd been fooling around and I wouldn't let my sister go with him in case he led her astray, so we dressed the dummy as a joke and told him he'd have to be satisfied with taking Jennifer Number Two."

Disgusted that he was getting nowhere, the detective turned his interest to Jennifer.

"Do the names - " and he rattled off the names of the three men, "mean anything to you?"

Jennifer stared and was unable to answer so Andrew intervened.

"Yes, they are the names of the three men I prevented from raping my sister years ago." Andrew was furious that they were questioning Jennifer, who was so obviously distressed.

"Mr. Blake we must ask you to remain quiet. Allow your sister to answer."

Andrew's thoughts reflected his anger. What a bastard this policeman is.

"Well, Miss Blake, I am waiting for an answer, or would you prefer to come down to the station and answer there?"

"You heard my brother's answer and I have nothing to add."

"Have any of the men been in contact with either of you?"

"How could they? They're in prison." Jennifer stared through the police, daring them to contradict her.

"No, - you're wrong. They're dead. They were incinerated in a car smash - or possibly murdered in a car smash - after an attempted truck hi-jacking."

"How can that be our concern?"

Relentlessly the detective continued. "Well, the truck they attempted to hi-jack was the one driven out of here by Peter O'Brien."

"Peter, where's Peter? Tell me, you bastard!" Jennifer dropped all pretence of lady-like behavior and jumped to her feet. "Is he alive - dead? Where is he?" Her voice rose to a shrill scream before she collapsed on her chair, sobbing piteously.

The detective and his partner were shocked at her vehemence.

"Haven't you been told? We thought you knew."

Jennifer looked stricken as she waited for the trap door to open, allowing her to fall to her death at the end of the hangman's noose.

"Tell me. Tell me." Her scream showed she was about to physically attack the man.

"Last night, Peter was flown from the accident scene by helicopter. He'd lost a lot of blood as the hijackers had shot him. However, he disregarded his injuries and tried to put out the fire. He's in intensive care at Royal North Shore Hospital. Only next-of-kin are allowed in, but I dare say if we escort you the ward sister will allow you to see Mr. O'Brien."

The detective, looking a little self-conscious now, seemed human at last.

Jennifer would never remember the trip to the hospital, neither the blare of the siren, nor the speed at which they travelled - nothing. She couldn't even remember being ushered into the lift or walking into the ward.

She did remember the pretty blonde bending over Peter, holding his hand as she wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

She did remember shouting "Peter" as she ran to him.

She did remember the loving look that passed over his face as the blonde-haired woman dropped his hand to walk quickly out of the ward.

Her relief in finding Peter was short lived.

The emotional trauma of the past few days and the torment of the questioning by the police blocked any rational thinking that her education as a lawyer would normally guide her in her responses to such a situation. She was an emotional mess, her mind full of pain.

Her voice sounded pleased but her heart was frozen.

"Oh, God, Peter!"

Her eyes flashed with self-righteous anger -- all coherent thoughts smothered by the sight of the affection shown by both Peter and that woman for each other.

Her voice was almost a high pitched, bitchy shriek as she allowed jealousy to overcome her. She was no longer a lawyer -- she was a confused young woman.

"Who was that woman and why is she allowed to see you when I'm not permitted near you without a police escort?"

Peter ached all over. His leg felt as though it was falling off and the ache bit deep into his soul. Drugged with painkillers, he hardly knew where he was, let alone have the strength to answer these questions. He just wanted peace and quiet - peace and quiet to think where his life was heading.

"That woman - as you so cattily put it." He was tired, he was angry, and above all the inquisitiveness of the police terrified him. They had already commenced inquiries with Interpol about his back - part of his history - which he had wanted to be far in his background.

"That woman is your best friend. Yes, your best friend."

Jennifer turned as a nurse took her arm. "I am afraid you're disturbing the patient, Miss Blake. I must ask you to leave."

Shrugging herself free, Jennifer continued.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving and I'll never be back. Is that the woman you took to Bathurst? You tell me you love me yet you spent the weekend away with her.

"Don't bother denying your feelings for her and her feelings for you. I saw the two of you and I'm not a fool. Is that the woman you saved, then undressed and put to bed? By her actions, I see she really enjoyed your attentions. And you had the impertinence to profess your love for me."

The hatred in her voice shocked Peter as he lay still, gazing steadily at her. Quietly he whispered, "She's your best friend, Jennifer. She's our best friend."

In a voice laced with even more venom, she cut across his words.

"I will not be treated like this. I will not be your plaything, not now, not ever. Goodbye, Peter. I am returning home to Melbourne. There's nothing to keep me here in Sydney. Goodbye."

Ramrod stiff she fled the ward.