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‘So, we’re looking at the track, and anyone walking on it?’ Ryan asked.
‘And do a sweep, a kilometre or so on your side. I’ll take the south, Ryan,’ Connor said. ‘Kane, you focus on the trail if you can see it clearly ahead.’
‘It’s fifty kilometres to where they set off from yesterday morning, and that’ll take us about half an hour from here, but keep an eye on the first bit of the track. We can’t discount any possibility. The starting point for the Larapinta Trail is eighteen kilometres north of the airport. I’ll tell you when we fly over the Old Telegraph Station at the eastern end of the track. About five minutes from now.’
Ryan and Connor took out the binoculars Connor had packed, and few minutes later, the chopper swept to the left and Kane spoke into the mike.
‘The track starts near those buildings; past the telegraph poles you can see and then ahead a bit, it goes under a road bridge. Then you’ll see the Ghan railway and then the track heads twenty-six kilometres southwest to where they spent the first night at Simpsons Gap.’
Kane focused on the trail below, and there was no sound from Ryan and Connor as they swept over the landscape below.
Ten minutes later Kane broke the silence. ‘Coming up to Simpsons Gap in a couple of minutes. No sign of life on the track.’
‘Ditto,’ Connor said.
‘Nothing here,’ Ryan added.
‘From here to the old homestead where they stayed the second night, the track gets rougher and more remote, a similar distance to what we’ve just searched but more mountainous. I’m going to take the bird up a little higher, so you’ll really need the binoculars.’
Connor nodded beside him, and then his voice crackled through Kane’s headphones. ‘What do you think about landing at the old Homestead and having a look around? It’s shelter and there might be someone holed up there.’
Kane agreed. ‘Worth a try. But we’ll be careful. If there’s anyone there and they ask what we’re doing, you’re a couple of businessmen looking for a resort site. The track turns a bit north from here.’
They all focused on the landscape below, but like the previous section of the trail, all was quiet. Half an hour later, Kane pointed ahead. ‘There’s the old homestead, there’s no vehicles there. What do you think?’
‘Why don’t you do a low flyover, and see if anyone comes out?’ Connor said. ‘If not, we’ll keep going along the trail until we get to Birthday Waterhole and if we don’t have any luck, we’ll come back after that. It’s a fair way before where they went missing.’
Kane brought the bird down low, and did two sweeps over the homestead and a kilometre in each direction. Ryan and Connor kept their eyes on the ground below.
‘Nothing,’ Connor said.
‘Right, we’ll go back to where we left the trail at Jay Creek. Next leg after that is where they trekked yesterday after Standley Chasm.’
‘Where it all went pear-shaped,’ Ryan said.
Kane kept his eye on the trail as the bush below got thicker and the landscape became more mountainous. A couple of times he lost the trail and had to ask Connor for the map co-ordinates to circle around and pick it up again.
‘Not a soul to be seen,’ Ryan commented.
‘South-west for ten and then we fly over Standley Chasm,’ Kane said.
‘Campground and café there. That’s where the Feds will be set up,’ Connor said. ‘I reckon they’ll take a bit of interest in us.’
‘Worth landing and seeing what we can suss out?’ Kane asked.
‘No, because there’s a chance they’ll ground us, and we won’t even have looked in the critical area,’ Connor said.
‘Roger that.’
‘Maybe stay a bit higher, but not too high that we can’t see.’
Kane looked down as he flew them over the car park at Standley Chasm. ‘You’re right, mate. You can see something’s happening down there.’
Half a dozen four-wheel drives and three police cars were parked close together at the end of the road beside the entrance to the campground.
Kane lifted the bird and pretended not to see as two of the men below gestured for him to land.
‘Good move, mate,’ Connor said. ‘Something’s definitely afoot down there.’
