Uncommon Enemy (19 page)

Instinctively Stuart scanned the low ridges surrounding the building knowing as he did so that he would be unlikely to see any sign of life. Quickly he walked round the small school building to face the paddock and waved a beckoning signal. Immediately six figures rose from the long grass and moved forward in the now familiar crouching run.

The hot sweet tea tasted wonderful and it was difficult to refrain from noisily gulping it down as quickly as possible. Not that the circumstances demanded adherence to drawing room manners. On the walls of the woolshed were hung various implements used for shearing large numbers of sheep, and in one corner were a stack of tall wool bales made of strong sacking, stuffed with wool and sewn together with large stitches. The aroma of lanolin ingrained in the floor mingled with the smell of the dried sheep’s dung that was layered underneath the slatted raised floorboards.

An hour earlier, the two men had led the entire group quickly away from the school. After half an hour’s walk along a narrow dusty road they had rendezvoused with a Bedford flatbed truck that had driven them into a long valley. From there they had emerged to a cluster of farm buildings that included the large reddish-brown woolshed surrounded by an assortment of pens and a half-empty sheep dip trough. Inside the woolshed a group of ten men and two women greeted them cautiously and indicated they were to find a place on the floor. Within ten minutes large chipped enamel mugs of tea were thrust into their grateful hands and a plate piled high with thickly cut chunky peanut butter sandwiches was passed around.

“Reckon you’ll be pretty hungry and thirsty,” said the man who Stuart had first encountered on the porch. “Take your time while we brief you on the set up. Then we’ll have a few questions for you.”

Engrossed in slaking their thirst, the seven nodded briefly.

“OK. For starters, my name’s Dan. It’s not my real name and here we don’t have surnames. If we decide that you can stay, you’ll have to choose another name for yourself as we don’t want to know your real name. Guess the reason’s pretty obvious.”

He paused and they all nodded again.

“OK. This place is run as a proper farm. Some of us are experienced farmers, while others do jobs as directed. The occasional outsiders who come here, like salesmen and so forth assume it’s an ordinary farm and we want to keep it that way. Consequently we can’t have a lot of strange people hanging around doing nothing.”

He paused and drawing a tobacco tin from his top pocket, opened it, extracted a thin cigarette paper and a small clump of tobacco which he proceeded to roll into a cylindrical shape.

“Now,” he continued his voice changing to a sneering tone, “the New Order.”

The short mocking laugh of his companions echoed round the woolshed. Smiling an acknowledgment he looked at the group of seven.

“You may have already experienced the dark side of this New Order, the aspects that are not published in the newspapers or broadcast over the wireless. All of us are dedicated to fighting back against the New Order, but that doesn’t simply mean
playing heroes and killing people. Yes, that’s necessary at times but we also need to continue to remind our fellow Kiwis that this country is occupied, that the so-called new prosperity comes at a high price – the price of their freedom, their individuality, and their way of life.”

Growls of approval and loud comments such as “Good on you, Dan!” drifted up past the exposed beams and echoed off the iron roof.

Dan smiled an acknowledgement then looked again at the seven. “Notice I didn’t say ‘Comrades’. There are various shades of political opinion here and that’s as it should be. However, we are united in one aim - discrediting and bringing down the New Order,” he looked hard at the three soldiers, “and eliminating groups such as the Blitzkrieg Boys.”

The trio shifted uncomfortably.

“In the meantime you’re welcome as our guests. As new recruits you will be carefully questioned and tested. If you pass you will enter our training programme.” He paused and looked outside at the fading sky. “It’s getting late and because of what happened back up the road, it’s hard to predict what the consequences will be. We may have to move into emergency mode at any time so the first thing we’ll do is rehearse that procedure. But,” his gaze met the eyes of each of the newcomers, “let me remind you that you are not yet members of our group and what we show you now must not be divulged under any circumstances.”

“You’re going to show us something secret even though we’re not members. What happens if you then decide that we’re not acceptable?” Brown was obviously expressing the question that had been raised in all their minds, especially the three soldiers.

“Good question. Unfortunately I don’t have a pat answer for you,” replied Dan. His expression hardened. “But be aware that as far as this group’s concerned, there’s still a war on.”

He let his answer hang in the air and then nodded to the man standing alongside him.

“G’day,” said the man, stepping forward. He was leaner than Dan and bore a scar across his left cheek. “My name’s Tony and I’m in charge of mechanical operations. Please pay close attention.”

Moving over to the wall he reached up to one of the supporting beams that ran from the floor to the ceiling. Grasping a small section he carefully pulled outwards revealing a tiny hinged door that had been built into the beam. Reaching inside he twisted his hand to the right. There was a loud click followed by a whirring sound. A portion of the floor, on which a small wool bale had been placed, slowly lifted up. The whirring stopped. The bale lay resting parallel to the floor revealing a neatly cut square hole.

Tony smiled at the astonished looks on the seven faces.

“No need to applaud my modest achievements, friends. But, allow me to introduce you to your new 5 star accommodation.”

Walking over to the hole in the floor he made a flamboyant invitational gesture with his right arm. Scrambling to their feet the seven new arrivals hurried over to the hole and peered down. The first thing they noticed was the deep shaft that had been cut at right angles to the floor. On one side was a ladder that followed the wall of the shaft to the bottom.

“Welcome to the Albany Ritz, honoured guests,” smiled Tony with a low bow. He turned to Carol. “Ladies first.”

Carol, taken aback, looked at Stuart who smiled and nodded. Cautiously she climbed onto the first rung and slowly descended the shaft.

The others followed and on reaching the bottom of the ladder were astonished at the relative sophistication of the facility. Expecting a dank, narrow mineshaft, they were confronted instead by a series of small cubicles of shoulder height. Although the tunnel base was clay, each cubicle had a slatted floor, a bed with a straw palliase, and an electric light bulb suspended from the ceiling. Each doorway was neatly framed in timber with its own wooden door.

Tony, who had been the last to descend, stood by the base of the ladder smiling proudly at their gasps of admiration.

“You’re the first inhabitants, my friends. We were expecting to increase our numbers and so, with the use of some drilling equipment, and plenty of sweat and muscle, we built the Albany Ritz. The dunny’s at the end of the corridor. Dry drop I’m afraid but, under the circumstances…” He smiled. “And you’ll have to remember to wash before you descend. We haven’t yet arranged full plumbing.” He shrugged exaggeratedly. “So difficult to get tradesmen at the moment, don’t you know.”

Susan smiled. “How long did this take, Tony?”

“’Bout six months. Put it together straight after the surrender. A group of us realized very quickly that an occupation of New Zealand by the Germans would be a hideous prospect and that some sort of resistance would have to be started.” He gestured with his right arm. “I’m proud to say that this concept is being adopted by others in the network.”

“Network?” asked Stuart.

Tony smiled and shook his head. “Now, choose your berths.” He grinned at the two women. “In anticipation of a variety of needs we do have several double suites.”

Stuart caught Brendan’s eye and grinned as his mate’s face broke into a knowing grin and his left eye slowly closed.

Like the others, Stuart had made a valiant attempt to remove the day’s dirt using the cold tap, grey sand soap and aluminium trough in the small bathroom off the end of the shearing shed.

Although the soap on his skin was painful he was determined to make himself as clean as possible. Carol had already used the bathroom and, coming into the cubicle, had simply smiled, jerked her head upstairs and said, “Your turn.” There was a cutthroat razor hanging by the mirror and to make himself more presentable he soaped his face and, after sharpening the razor on the worn leather strop, slowly and carefully shaved off the day’s growth. Dunking his head in the small basin he pulled it out gasping at the effect of the cold water. For the umpteenth time he wondered if she would be waiting for him when he went back down the ladder or would he once again be put in the position of having to be the sensitive, patient, understanding male. She’d made him promise to give her some time. Well he had, and in between times they’d made a getaway together, survived a shootout, teamed up with a group of Blitzkrieg Boys, met the Fightback members and been initially accepted into their organization. He caught a glimpse of himself in the small cracked mirror, smiled grimly and nodded at this own reflection. “Yes,” he murmured, “she’s definitely had enough time.”

Then, with a final glance in the mirror he left the bathroom and descended the stairs.

The door to their cubicle was half closed and the light was off. The only other light was the cubicle at the end of the corridor that he presumed was occupied by Brendan and Susan.

He pushed the door open wider and entered.

“Close the door,” she stage whispered. The latch clicked shut and he turned towards the bed. With a slight rustle she moved sideways and lifted the blankets invitingly. Stuart suppressed a gasp when he saw that she was naked.

As he slid in beside her he registered the wonderful warmth of her body. Her mouth on his was equally warm and generous and as she slid underneath him she wrapped her arms tightly round his back causing him to involuntarily wince.

“Easy, darling,” he murmured.

She giggled in response. “What was it that Aunt Catherine said about not indulging in activities of a vigorous nature?”

“She’s a wise lady, but not necessarily infallible,” he replied, marvelling at the feeling of Carol’s flesh underneath his.

“Yes, but I don’t want any further damage done to my man,” she whispered. “So, turn over.”

Unsure of her intentions, he nevertheless did as he was told and rolled cautiously off her onto his back. Before he even realized what had happened she was above him, straddling his thighs her head leaning down. Her hair fell across his face and tangled itself in both their mouths. Slowly and rhythmically she began to move across his groin and he moaned inside her mouth. Jerking her head back she thrust her left breast towards his mouth and as he tried to absorb it she moaned and shifted her thighs enabling him to enter her.

They came together.

After their trembling had subsided he twisted his head and kissed her. She had collapsed alongside him, her head resting at right angles to his. He tasted blood.

“Carol, are you hurt?” he asked, touching her mouth.

“No. I just had to bite my lip hard to stop myself crying out. I didn’t want to disturb anyone else.”

He chuckled. “By ‘anyone else’ I presume you mean Brendan and Susan. I’m sure they’re far too self absorbed to worry about us.”

She laughed quietly and then she touched his lips. “Mmmm. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that it could be like that. And you, with busted ribs as well.”

“Fairs, fair. You played an active role,” he laughed softly, stroking her hair. “I love you, Carol.”

She was silent for a moment and then spoke softly and slowly. “I know you do, Stuart. And I also know now that I love you in return. I asked you to give me some time. You gave it to me and now I’m sure. I do love you.”

Draped across each other they fell into a deep sleep.

In the early hours of the morning Stuart woke to the feel of Carol’s hands gently stroking his stomach. As they moved lower she murmured, “Why, darling, I thought you were asleep.”

This time, secure in the knowledge and trust created by their earlier intimacy, their lovemaking was slower.

The next time they woke it was to the sound of voice from somewhere above shouting, “Breakfast in 20 minutes! Rise and shine!”

Stuart, who was lying on his back pulled Carol over so that her head lay on his chest, “Is this what you anticipated when we caught the bus yesterday morning?”

“God, no. I thought we’d meet up with some scruffy bunch that would probably be living in tents and spending most of their time keeping one jump ahead of the Blitzkrieg Boys. These people are much better organized than I ever imagined - a fully functioning farm, allocated areas of expertise, and this amazing underground facility.”

“Yes, and apparently a counter-insurgency training programme. But don’t let’s underestimate what we’re up against - a very successful war machine. We may have come out on top in yesterday morning’s skirmish but that will only make the authorities more angry and ruthless.”

“How do you feel about the three soldiers?”

“Not entirely sure, yet. In a way they’re both a liability and an asset.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, they’re deserters who had a direct involvement in an incident in which New Order soldiers were killed. That means that soon we’ll have the bloody Krauts swarming all over this area.”

“Yes, but what makes them an asset?”

“Their inside knowledge. They’ve been through the system so whatever they can tell us will be useful.”

“True.” She sighed. “Stuart?”

“Mmmm?” He started to stroke her hair.

“Are we going to be alright?”

“We’re going to look after each other; that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Which brings me to Brendan and Susan. Bit sudden don’t you think.”

Stuart chuckled softly. “Doesn’t waste much time, does our Brendan.”

“She’s really nice, Stuart. I’d hate her to get hurt.”

“I understand. Brendan, in spite of his devil may care attitude, is a decent bloke. Susan’s been through a lot. We all have.” He gently stroked her hair. “Each of us is about to take a leap in the dark and we all need someone to hold hands with.”

She lay still without replying for a long moment. Then she replied softly, “You’re right. Under the circumstances, that’s the best thing that we can do. Promise that we’ll look after each other.”

“You have my promise.”

“Mine too.”

She began to run her fingernails down the centre of his chest. “Hmmm, you delicious man.”

“Carol,” he murmured, “they said breakfast was in 20 minutes and that was 10 minutes ago.”

“That gives us another 10 minutes to work up an appetite,” she replied her mouth closing on his.