“Do we need to go?” she instinctively went to pull him into her, as she always had. He’d been a morning person and she had not. So in the mornings she had always pined and begged him to stay in bed with her.
He gently pushed her attempt away, “It’s not urgent, I don’t think anyone knows you’re here, yet anyway.”
She’d told Pete little of what occurred thus far, and truth be told, she knew so very little herself. She tried to tell him, as best she could remember, of how this all started.
She was working at the mission as a volunteer, teaching the children, tending to animals and crops, working in the medical ward and basically trying in any way possible to assist. On top of this she’d been liaising with various charity groups for aid in the area, writing for travel journals and submitting her photography work on the side. All the proceeds of which had gone to the local mission, as she didn’t need the money.
Occasionally she would take a week or so to go off and explore another part of the continent she was growing to love, getting embroiled in an adrenaline packed adventure. Scuba diving in Egypt’s Red Sea, jungle trekking in Madagascar or bungee jumping off the Victoria Falls bridge.
After having her near-death experiences she’d always return to the village, almost as if in penance for what she’d just done. As if by giving into her desires she’d somehow erred and needed to repent for giving in to them. It had become something of a habit for her, adrenaline helped make her feel alive but afterwards she felt guilty for indulging herself.
It was whilst taking her photography slides that she’d inadvertently gotten into trouble. She was filming near the village with time lapse equipment in the local elephant reserve, collecting information at night. She told Peter she photographed a local herder, who was moving his cattle across her stationary camera setup. During this the man had fallen to the earth and died, consequently she’d captured his final moments on film.
It was as if an unseen hunter had been stalking him, picked its moment and then took the kill shot, killing the man instantly. What was strange was there was no evidence on the photos of a wound to indicate that he’d been shot, he seemingly just fell to the ground for no reason.
After she’d reviewed the images back at camp she went out immediately in search of the man, who’d already been found by his tribe and taken for burial. Catlin had respectfully asked to see the body but was refused by the tribe, excluded as she was white.
Upon reviewing the footage later, Cat had picked up a strange discoloration of the images. At first she thought it was dust on the lens, but the discoloration was centred on the man, appearing in a strange but uniformed way.
As the final piece of coloration disappeared from the images, the man had begun dropping to the earth. It was almost as if the discoloration had something to do with his death.
“I was confused as to what it was. At first I was innocent, believing I’d inadvertently captured the natural death of an old man tending his herds, the blemishes were odd but not uncommon. So I decided to get a second opinion on the images.”
“That was my mistake,” she explained to Peter, “I tried to get a second opinion on what’d happened. I uploaded what images I had and sent them to a friend at National Geographic and since then all sorts of strange things have been happening. I recorded something in those images Pete, something that someone is trying to protect. Those images, whatever they were, were certainly worth protecting for someone. Enough that they would try to kill for it.”
“Who came after you in Africa?”
“I have no idea … it was all, wow, so quick.”
It had been less than twenty-four hours after she’d sent the pictures that someone had come after her in the village, meaning that whoever they were must’ve been well resourced. She didn’t know who they were, but she did recognise the voice of the man who attacked her as Australian.
“Have you still got them, the images that is?”
She shifted nervously at Peter’s tone. “No, some kind of a virus took out my laptop and destroyed the images. Also the entire National Geographic server self-imploded at the exact same instant that my laptop did, thus destroying all evidence … funny huh?”
“Then, on the plane, I saw a news report claiming my contact in the National Geographic office was in a fatal hit and run the same day. Now Mark is dead ... and it should’ve been me.” Her head sagged involuntarily.
“They’re coming after me Pete, to kill me, to make sure that whatever happened doesn’t get out to the world. And I have no idea what for, or what to do about it.”
“Who is they, do you even know who is coming after you?”
Catlin only shook her head, she had no idea, “Well I think it’s safe to say that it’s not National Geographic!”
“Catlin.”
“Sorry … but you wanna know something funny?”
“What’s that?”
“There’s more than one.”
“One what?”
“More than one person after me.”
“Ssshh … do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“I think there’s someone outside the door.”
“Oh crap.”
“Wait … can you hear that too?”
“Hear what now?”
“The sound of sirens approaching.”
“Damn, we need to get out of here!”
- -
A mobile phone rings inside the car, a car that Smith and Harrison have hotwired and stolen, near to the coastline they came ashore from. It’s a worn down, old blue Ford Falcon, not exactly Harrison’s choice but it functions and that’s all they need.
As the phone rings inside the car, Harrison looks to Smith in utter confusion, he doesn’t expect a phone to ring in this situation. Smith looks equally as surprised and he too looks about the car wondering what makes the noise.
Quickly he realises his leg is vibrating and reaches down into his blue coveralls, to the inside pocket on his leg.
“What’s that?” Harrison asks, looking at Smith as he fumbles his pocket.
Smith searches the pocket, finds the source of the noise and pulls a plastic wrapped phone from his coveralls pocket. He looks surprised as he holds it up awkwardly to look at.
“Don’t answer that!” Harrison sounds a warning straight away.
Smith thinks about it for a second but ignores Harrison’s request, he pulls the phone from its plastic wrap and tosses the plastic aside. He looks at the screen for a moment, taps his finger on it and puts the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Smith, are you there? Can you hear me, hello?”
“Smith … hello.”
“We’ve been looking for you Smith, you owe us our cut, where’s our money?” says the man on the other end.
Smith remains silent, staring out at the road in front of him as he drives.
“You hear me Smith?” the voice challenges again.
“Yes, hear good.”
“Well? Where the hell are you? Where’s our cut from the bank job?”
Silence again, Harrison can feel the tension in the air, his shoulders involuntarily crawl up towards his ears as he listens in on the conversation, he knows he should disconnect the call but his curiosity has gotten the better of him.
“Smith … you fricking hearing me, where are you?”
“In car, no fricking hearing.”
“Don’t play your bloody games with me mate, tell me where you and my money is, right now!”
“Smith drive car. No money, no problem.” Smith replies. “Man talk angry … maybe take chill pill.”
“Don’t mess with me Smith, you know the deal, we have …”
Harrison hurriedly leans over and disconnects the call, “I told you.” he looks sternly, holding his hand out to Smith expectantly.
/>
“What?” Smith replies confused. “Phone ring, phone answer.”
“The mobile phone, give it to me.”
Smith does as he’s asked without thought, handing the phone calmly to Harrison. Harrison quickly switches the phone off, slides off the back cover and promptly removes the sim card.
Smith says nothing as Harrison does this, only keeps his eyes forward, driving the car.
“You’re a strange man Smith,” Harrison muses as he tosses the disassembled phone into the glove box. “Why did you answer that man?”
“Phone ring, phone answer.”
“Man, what if someone was tracking your phone, did you think about that?”
“Don’t know.”
“Always with the don’t know. What’s your story anyway?”
“Story?”
“Yeah you know, where have you come from? Who are you?”
“Smith ... see as seen.”
“Yeah yeah, but where are you from?”
“Here.”
“Here where?”
“Don’t know. Here”
Harrison rolls his eyes, “not bloody easy with you is it?”
No response.
Harrison has an idea and quickly opens the glove box back up. “Hey that phone, I think I can use it.”
Smith doesn’t respond.
“Hells yeah!” he says jubilantly aloud as he replaces the sim card and quickly starts playing with the security settings on the phone. He makes a few changes, downloads a custom app and satisfied nobody can track him on the phone he jumps online and does a search for Smith.
“Let’s see what google has on you hey?” He leans back in the seat.
Harrison begins his search, but with little result. He doesn’t really expect the name Smith would turn up anything useful, but figures it’s worth a shot. Surely if Smith is robbing banks some sort of a criminal record would be in existence, so he checks the police databases.
“Hey Smith, what’s your first name man?”
“Smith.”
“Well derr, but do you have another name?”
“Smith.”
“Right, well that’s not going to help much. But I’m guessing there aren’t as many tall fellas as you getting around, maybe I can do a search for your characteristics instead hey.” he mutters. “Ginormous, strange looking black guy.”
The results are not what he expects and he quickly changes tack.
But whatever Harrison tries to search for it is to no avail, the police databases have nothing on him except for a recent photograph from the robbery. Frustrated, he tries a few other sites he uses regularly to glean information but again comes up short. No giant, strange looking black men on the internet that even resemble him. It’s like he’s never existed before.
“I don’t get it, just who are you?”
“Smith.”
“Smith, you were robbing a bank the day we met, right?”
“See as seen, yes.” he replies, somewhat surprised.
“Right, and why were you robbing the bank?”
“Don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know.”
Using the phone still, Harrison gets a hold of a news report of the incident online. As he reads it aloud in the car he slowly starts to realise that nobody has a clue who’s committed the robbery, despite the very clear images they have of the incident.
The images and footage of Smith are clear as the culprit, but still cannot identify exactly who he is. The article claims a healthy reward for information’s been put up and also goes on to say the attempt was a failure as no money was stolen during the robbery.
“You didn’t get any money from the job.”
“No money?”
“So you messed up?” Harrison muses. “If you didn’t get any money, right?”
“Don’t know.”
“You didn’t get any money man! What’s the point of robbing a bank if you don’t get any money?”
“Windscreen.” Smith suddenly realises.
“Huh.” Harrison’s confused, until he realises Smith is talking about the car. “Yes, the windscreen, you remember that hey?”
“See as seen … see holes … windscreen.”
“Yes,” Harrison replies. “So what?”
“Why?”
Harrison thinks about it for a second, “Why? I don’t know they were just there …”
But before he’s even finished his sentence his mind flashes back to the moment he crossed the parking garage and Smith drove a car right at him. He remembers it was done on purpose, that Smith intended to hit him. But if he was trying to kill him why would there be minuscule holes drilled into the windscreen? Unless somehow Smith anticipated he was going to hit something, or someone.
“Smith, were you trying to catch me? Those holes … did you somehow know this was going to happen man?”
“Don’t know.”
The more he thinks of it the more it makes sense, but as for the reasoning, well, clearly he isn’t getting any answers from Smith. Either he’s lost his memory somehow or he’s a very good liar.
“Smith, why don’t you remember anything?”
“Don’t know.”
He tries another question, “Well you seem to remember the things that I remember, but why nothing else?”
“See as seen.”
“Huh?” he thinks as he sits back in his seat with a furrowed brow. “That doesn’t make any sense man, what are you talking about?”
“Don’t know.”
“Oh!” a thought strikes him. “Check your pockets, have you got anything else in them?” Harrison asks.
Smith checks his pockets as instructed and with a look of incredulity on his face he pulls out a small object from his breast pocket, holding it up for Harrison to see inside the car.
“Right man.” Harrison’s eyes go wide, “you have a miniature Chewbacca figurine in your pocket.”
“Chewbacca friend Han Solo.” Smith smiles ever so slightly.
“Good one man.” Harrison smiles dryly, dismissing the object and any importance it may have had, Smith returns the figurine to his pocket and continues driving silently.
“Maybe there’s something on your phone that I can use then.” Harrison checks quickly and goes quiet as he looks closely at a recent photograph that’s been taken on the phone.
“What?”
“A photo of a person? Or I think it’s a file on a person. It’s the only photo on your phone man, so it’s gotta mean something.”
“Smith?”
“No.”
“Harrison?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“A man called the Viper. Ever heard of him?”
“No.”
“This photo, it’s got something written on the bottom, Sousa is the key, ring any bells?”
“Sousa is the key.” Smith says to himself.
“Well the time stamp on this pic is around the same time you would’ve been at the bank. Meaning maybe you went to the bank to get information on this Viper and not to steal cash. You’ve only taken the one photo on this phone, so maybe you know why?”
“Don’t …”
“Know, I know. You don’t know!” Harrison mocks him.
Quickly jumping back onto the phone, he gets a few details from the pic and begins a search for a person with the alias Viper. It takes him about an hour, but using the information on the photo he eventually finds a reference to the alias via a military server he hacks into. He opens the page and reads the information aloud.
Name: Sousa de Boro, ex South African Military sniper, distinguished combat record. Wow. Dismissed for misconduct, something about problems with authority. Served in Libya, Afghanistan, later joined private security firm in
Iraq, dismissed again, no reason listed. Started own private security firm in Johannesburg. Sued, business went belly up after only six months. Disappeared over four years ago without a trace, last known whereabouts were in Australia.
“Weird.”
“What weird?”
It says he served in Afghanistan, I had a friend who also …” Harrison shakes his head, “why were you robbing a bank just to get information on this guy?”
“Sousa is the key. Send the device to the kid,” he responds aloud.
“Why do you keep saying that man?”
“Don’t know.”
“Well it seems he’s important to you and I guess we’ll have to wait to figure out why.”
“Why?” Smith asks.
Harrison smiles, looks back and says, “don’t know.”
harrison
Ma'am
The upstairs control room at Destiny was a buzz of activity, with some thirty operators manning the various consoles. Ma’am had pooled the entire facilities resources at once. They had two high level targets they were trying to capture and she didn’t want any failures.
Normally staff would operate on shifts, allowing for twenty-four-hour coverage in the facility, but the stakes were high this time and she didn’t want any further mistakes. She’d come upstairs to ensure everything was in readiness.
“Ma’am, I have ops on the line for you?”
Ma’am keyed a button on her headset to activate the call, “go ahead Three.”
Mr Okko was on the other end of the line, “ma’am, my team’s been scouring them tunnels under St James and can’t find a way to get through anywhere close to the signal under Hyde Park?”
“Well he’s down there somewhere.”
“Ma’am, we enlisted the capabilities of a man who runs tours down here and he claims that no tunnels go to that area of the park, that the signal is coming from …”
“Maybe he’s in the bloody sky then!” she cursed, “have you looked there?”
“Aaah … Ma’am?” the unsure voice of Okko replied.
“Is the signal legitimate?”
“Same as always I guess, Ma’am.” he replied nonchalantly.
Recalling Destiny Page 8