Wildfire by Chris Ryan Page B

monitoring.
    Outside the window was a stretch of reddish desert criss-crossed by tyre marks, but the skyline was dominated by a massive white dome. A military Jeep was driving around the outside of that dome. It was probably doing about 50 k.p.h. – the speed limit within the compound – but the dome was so huge that the vehicle looked like it was hardly moving at all.
    Beyond the dome was a high wire fence topped with barbed wire, which marked the perimeter of the compound; and beyond that was the Great Victoria Desert – a barren plain in the middle of the outback.
    ‘Koop,’ said Grishkevich, ‘could you close those blinds? I can’t see the screen properly.’
    Hijkoop got up and pulled the blinds shut.
    ‘Oh no,’ said Grishkevich.
    The tone in his voice made Hijkoop hurry back to look at what was on the screen. He was horrified by what he saw there.
    Adelaide was completely blotted out by black clouds of smoke. Something had gone very wrong.
    ‘I thought you were trying to up the rainfall, Grish,’ said Hijkoop.
    ‘Yeah.’ Grishkevich let out a long sigh and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. ‘No good. All we’re getting is the wind speed picking up instead.’
    Hijkoop couldn’t take his eyes off the picture on the screen. ‘Grish, we have to shut it down. The wind is going to make matters worse.’
    Grishkevich shook his head slowly. Eventually he spoke. ‘I already did shut it down. But I’ve got a nasty feeling it may be too late for that. Unless that wind dies down of its own accord, Adelaide’s going to turn into a fire storm.’

Chapter Thirteen
     
    Ben kept the microlight heading north. Down below, the railway line snaked through the desert. It was a relief to get away from the terrible burning landscape of Adelaide. But what they were seeing now was eerie.
    The hills and foliage had given way to barren red desert. Ben had thought it was hot enough back in Adelaide, but now it was baking. They had already drunk half the water from Ben’s remaining bottle. Kelly’s bandages had nearly dried out and they had to use some of the water to soak them again. But at least the flying was easier. Because the terrain was so flat, there were fewer thermals and variations in the aircurrents. Ben hadn’t had to adjust his altitude as often.
    Which was just as well, as Kelly had him constantly pressing redial on the phone, trying to get her father’s number again. The response came through, same as before: ‘ Lines are busy. Please try again later .’ Ben had lost count of the number of times he had heard that message. He got the same message whenever he called Bel’s number.
    Kelly tried a different tactic. ‘Get me directory enquiries.’
    Ben goggled at her. ‘What did your last slave die of? Get it yourself.’
    Kelly let out an irritated sigh. ‘Ben, can you please dial directory enquiries. Please. Pretty please with swirly sparkly—’
    ‘Maybe,’ said Ben, ‘if you tell me what you want it for.’
    ‘I wanna get my nails done,’ snapped Kelly. ‘What does it matter what I want it for? You’ll find out in a minute anyway.’
    Ben smiled. ‘Want to look nice for George?’ He keyed in the number, which he remembered seeing inthe hotel information leaflet. ‘Directory enquiries coming right up for you, miss.’
    Kelly scowled at him. When the call was answered, she spoke into the speaker. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Can I get the US consulate in Melbourne? … Yes, please put me through – thank you.’
    Ben listened, fascinated. The US consulate now? This girl certainly liked to pull out the big guns.
    ‘Hello,’ said Kelly. ‘I’d like to report the kidnapping of a US citizen in Adelaide. He’s Major Brad Kurtis.’
    While she talked, Ben looked out of the window. A lone truck moved across the plain below, coated in so much red dust that it looked like it was camouflaged. The only reason Ben could see it was because of the puff of red dust following behind it. Even the