To
my sister and brother,
Pam Walker and Phillip Measday.
And the stories we have lived and told.
SM
Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Praise for Send Simon Savage
Copyright Page
1
The near future, Australia
Simon spent a great Saturday body boarding with a few mates in rolling surf at the southern end of Bondi Beach. Late in the afternoon, he headed home.
The oily smell of fish and chips hung in the air as Simon walked along the strip past the crowded cafes. He darted across the road, weaving between slow moving cars, his mind fixed on the family’s usual Saturday night pig-out on fizz, pizza and cheesecake. Dodging another car, Simon jumped onto the footpath, turned up a side street, and nearly collided with old Mrs Price.
‘Simon, I’ve never seen so much fuss!’ she shouted after him. ‘What’s happening at your place?’
Simon blinked. ‘Happening? I don’t know!’
Two police cars were parked outside his house, their blue lights flashing. A group of people stood on the front porch.
He broke into a run. As he drew level with the house, his eleven-year-old sister, Lily, burst through the gate.
‘It’s Dad! He’s gone!’ she said.
‘I know. He went to work,’ Simon replied.
Dad had been gone that morning when Simon got up. The night before he had promised to go surfing with Simon, but working at the weekends wasn’t unusual for him. Neither was leaving for work before dawn. It happened all the time.
‘No … really gone,’ she repeated.
‘What do you mean? Where?’
‘They won’t tell me!’
‘Okay, okay. Where’s Mum?’
‘She’s inside talking with the police. They won’t let me see her!’
Simon grabbed his sister’s hand, pushed through a huddle of nosy neighbours and leapt up the front steps of the house. A policeman stepped forward. ‘Where are you going?’
Simon kept moving through the front door. ‘Inside. We live here!’
The man stepped back and Simon dragged Lily down the hallway.
‘Mum, Mum!’
He heard voices in the living room and found her talking with a policewoman.
‘But you haven’t found his body,’ Simon’s mother said. ‘There’s always the chance that …’
‘Mrs Savage, we sent out a police launch,’ the policewoman replied, ‘but there was a choppy sea and a strong rip off that beach. Your husband may have been washed out to sea. I’m very sorry.’
‘Mum!’ Simon dropped onto the couch next to his mother. ‘What’s going on?’
Glenda Savage gripped his hand. ‘It’s your father. He’s … he’s disappeared.’
It took the policewoman only a minute to tell Simon what he didn’t want to know—that his father’s clothes had been found on a deserted beach, about a hundred and twenty kilometres down the coast. And his car, with the keys in the ignition, was in a parking area nearby.
‘The local police found a trail of footsteps in the sand, from the car right down to the water,’ the policewoman said. ‘We believe he swam out to sea.’
‘But Dad wouldn’t just swim out into a rip!’ Simon said. ‘That would be stupid! That would be … unless …’
‘I’m sorry,’ the policewoman said again.
Lily rushed to her mother’s side and hugged her.
‘Excuse me, are you Mrs Savage?’ a deep voice said.
Simon looked up as two men in dark suits entered the room and removed their Ray-Bans. All eyes turned to them. The taller of the two was a fit, tanned and dark-haired man in his forties. He flashed an official-looking badge and photo ID.
‘The name’s Cutler, and this is my colleague, Anderson,’ the man said, with a hint of an English accent. Then he repeated the question. ‘Are you Mrs Savage?’
Glenda nodded.
The policewoman stood up. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Who are you, exactly?’
Cutler held up his badge again. ‘This is a Federal Government matter. Outside of your jurisdiction. We have a job to do, and quickly.’
The policewoman examined the distinctive metal badge and its embossed coat-of-arms. She nodded at Glenda and Simon. ‘He has the authority.’
‘Thank you,’ Cutler replied. ‘Mrs Savage, does your husband have a home office?’
‘Yes.’ Glenda looked towards the staircase at the far end of the room. ‘His study’s upstairs.’
‘My apologies, but we’ll have to conduct a search. This is a matter of national security.’ He nodded to the other man. ‘Anderson, would you take a look?’
‘On my way.’ Anderson moved briskly across the room and up the stairs.
Glenda took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the tears from her eyes. Then she looked back at Cutler with more composure. ‘What are you looking for?’
‘We’re here to find out if your husband … if Dr Savage left any research papers or a personal computer here in the house,’ Cutler said.
‘What’s that got to do with his disappearance?’ Glenda asked in alarm.
Simon jumped to his feet. ‘Look, Mum’s really upset. Dad keeps most of his stuff at his office in the city. Or out at the research laboratory.’
‘We’ll be certain to look there, too,’ Cutler said.
‘For what?’ Simon asked.
Cutler ignored him.
Then Simon noticed the man take something from his jacket pocket. It was black, the shape and size of a thick pen, and had a clear glass bubble at one end.
‘You’ll have to excuse me, but I need to scan everyone in the room,’ Cutler explained. ‘It will only take a few seconds.’
He held out the device and a thin blue beam scanned over Simon, Lily and Glenda’s heads and shoulders.
‘What is that thing?’ Simon asked.
‘A forensic testing device,’ Cutler replied calmly, putting it back in his pocket.
Anderson came back down the stairs. He shook his head.
‘That was quick,’ Cutler remarked.
‘Nothing up there of interest to us, sir,’ Anderson replied.
‘Well, thank you for seeing us, Mrs Savage,’ Cutler said. ‘We’re very sorry for your loss.’
‘We don’t know he’s lost!’ Simon said. ‘He might not be, you know.’
Cutler nodded. Then the two men turned and left the room as quickly as they had arrived.
‘Who were those guys?’ Lily asked.
Simon went to the window and watched the men get into a black car. It drove to the end of the street, nosed its way back into the traffic on the main road, and was go
ne.
That night, Simon couldn’t sleep. Every now and then he heard some movement in his mother’s bedroom, heard her blowing her nose into another tissue. But it was his own restless thoughts that kept him awake. He tried to remember every word, every movement his father had made over the last few days. He tried to find a clue as to why he had disappeared in such a strange way. And he wondered what the sudden visit from Cutler and his offsider had meant. He got out of bed and crept quietly into his dad’s study.
‘Simon, what’re you doing?’
Lily stood in the doorway, looking pale and frail in her pyjamas.
‘Just looking,’ he replied.
‘What for?’
‘I’m checking things out,’ Simon said. ‘Like, why is it so tidy in here? Look, his books are all neat in the bookcases. The desk is all clear. Dad is never this tidy.’
‘It smells like Dad,’ Lily said. She shuffled closer to Simon.
Then, for the first time in ages, she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. They stood like that for a long time as they stared at their father’s favourite possessions.
Dr Savage’s study was filled with thousands of books on science, botany, history and poetry. Many of the volumes were old and leather-bound. On the walls were framed pictures of weird flowers, like the Giant Rafflesia, which was three metres across and gave out a stink like rotten meat. A year ago, they had all gone to see one at the Botanic Gardens. And, along a dozen floor-to-ceiling shelves on the opposite wall, there were multicoloured jars of seeds and seed pods from hundreds of rare and not-so-rare plants. Collecting seeds was their dad’s obsession. ‘You’ve got to have a hobby,’ he had often said.
Simon looked at the row of family photos on the mantelpiece, which sat above the fireplace that his dad had so carefully stripped and restored to its original, unpainted woodwork. His eyes lingered on the one photo that showed his father in his surfing gear. Hale Savage was a well-built man, with a full black beard, bright blue eyes and a receding hairline above a high, intelligent-looking forehead.
‘He spends a lot of time in here,’ Simon said at last.
‘Always flat out, working on something,’ Lily replied.
‘Yeah, one of his big projects.’
Lily nodded.
In the last year Dad had often been tired, Simon remembered. And even a bit spaced out. Always going to his study and shutting the door. Wanting peace and quiet. But for what? Simon knew next to nothing about his father’s real work. He knew it involved the atomic structure of elements and chemical compounds, and that it was new, and groundbreaking. So cutting edge, he had once joked that he could only talk about it with himself.
‘We should leave it like this,’ Simon said.
‘So it’s the same when he comes back?’ Lily asked.
‘Yeah.’ Simon hesitated. ‘Maybe …’
2
The sun was bright and the sea was blue. Set after set of waves rolled and crashed onto Bondi Beach. Out from the shore, a burst of spray slapped Simon’s face as he moved his board into the line-up, waiting to catch the perfect peak.
At last a big wave rose, spitting chunks of white foam. Simon turned to go with it. He kicked his legs and paddled hard, clawing through the water until he caught the crest.
Simon stayed in the moment, working the wave for all it was worth until it broke. A massive wall of water crashed down on him, tearing the leash from his board.
‘He’s gone!’
From the southern cliff overlooking the beach, Cutler kept his binoculars focused on the foaming water.
Anderson pointed. ‘There—he’s up now!’
Simon’s dark head bobbed in the surf, close to shore.
‘He’s game,’ Cutler said. ‘Saw the big wave and went for it.’
‘And fit,’ the other man added. ‘Do you think he’s up to the job?’
Cutler nodded. ‘Time to visit the family again.’
Simon dug into the dirt and tipped a shovel-load of earth to the side of the hole. ‘That should be deep enough.’
‘I’m not sure I want to do this today,’ Glenda said, as she placed a pot plant on the ground by the front fence. ‘Maybe we can do it when Lil gets home from her drama camp.’
‘She’s away for a week!’ Simon said. ‘I thought we said we’d finish jobs around the house. Stuff left over … for when Dad comes back.’
‘Yes, I know we did,’ she said. ‘But it’s been four weeks, Simon.’
‘This is a coffee plant,’ Simon went on. ‘Arabica something. The one Dad grew from a seed. Dad wants to grow it here, in the full sun. So he can make his own coffee.’
‘It’ll be a long time before we get a cup of coffee from this,’ Glenda said, with a weak smile.
‘If we don’t plant it out, it’ll … die.’
Without thinking, he had said the word. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.
‘It’s all right,’ Glenda replied. ‘It’s something we have to think about.’ She dragged the pot closer. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’
‘Mum? We haven’t talked about Dad much,’ Simon said.
‘No.’
‘Did Dad … ever say he was unhappy?’ Simon groped for the right words. ‘Did he say that he didn’t want to be with us?’
Glenda picked a worm out of the hole and dropped it further along the garden bed. She shook her head. ‘But I think he’d been worried about something. For a long time.’
‘About his work?’
‘He never said what, exactly. He always kept those things to himself.’ She lowered the plant into the hole. ‘And then there were those times he went away. You know, those business trips he went on last year. Just going. Without saying where.’
‘Lil and me thought you and Dad might be busting up,’ Simon said. ‘But then Dad would come back and things would be sort of normal again.’
Glenda touched his arm. ‘Your father and I weren’t breaking up.’
‘But he was feeling bad,’ Simon said, ‘about something.’
Glenda sighed. ‘I guess we’ll never know what.’
Simon looked up as a car door slammed in the street. A man stood by the car. It was Cutler. He nodded to Simon.
‘Morning!’ Cutler called out.
Simon stood up and moved to stand in front of his mother.
Cutler came up to the gate. ‘I think that I should introduce myself properly this time. I’m Captain Rex Cutler.’
‘You said you were from the government,’ Simon said.
Cutler nodded towards the house. ‘Perhaps we could have a chat inside?’
Simon didn’t move.
‘It does have something to do with your father,’ Cutler added.
‘It’s all right, Simon,’ Glenda said. ‘It could be important. I was going to make a drink, anyway. Please, Captain, come inside.’
Over a cup of tea at the dining table, Simon listened as Cutler explained that he was one of a select group who had known Hale Savage well, and had worked with him on several top-secret research and development projects.
‘Top secret?’ Simon asked. ‘Dad never talked about that.’
Glenda shook her head. ‘He never even hinted at anything like that.’
‘That’s because he wasn’t allowed to,’ Cutler replied. ‘And that’s why we had to visit your house so quickly … after he was gone. In case he had left any classified information in his office.’
‘Classified,’ Simon muttered. ‘I never knew his work was that important.’
Cutler stirred his tea. ‘What I’m about to tell you is also classified, but I want to bring you into my confidence. I’ve come to see you today because I want you to know who I really work for, and what we might be able to do for you.’ Cutler hesitated. ‘Though I should warn you, this is a conversation I will deny ever took place.’
Simon tried to catch his mother’s eye. He didn’t know what to make of this man.
But Glenda nodded. She was giving Cutler the benefit of the doubt.
&nbs
p; ‘I work for an international organisation called the Time Bureau,’ Cutler said. ‘You won’t find us in the phone book. And we don’t have a website——’
‘Do you mean atomic clocks?’ Simon interrupted. ‘Dad was in nuclear research, wasn’t he?’
‘That’s what I understood,’ Glenda said.
‘I’m afraid that was a cover story,’ Cutler said. ‘His field of research was more complex than that. It involved very advanced technology.’
Glenda looked warily at Cutler. ‘So what do you want? Why do you want to talk with us?’
‘Well, Mrs Savage, we know you’re short of money.’
‘You’ve been spying on us!’ Simon said.
Cutler frowned. ‘With the best of intentions.’
‘I don’t like this at all!’ Glenda said.
‘Mum’s right. What do you want?’
Cutler chose his words carefully. ‘Mrs Savage, the Time Bureau feels a responsibility towards your family. Both to you and your children.’
Glenda frowned. ‘Are you saying you accept responsibility for my husband’s disappearance?’
‘No. That was totally unexpected from our point of view,’ Cutler replied. ‘But we do feel that Hale’s disappearance might have had something to do with the pressures of his work.’
‘You know that for sure?’ Simon asked.
‘No,’ Cutler said. ‘But, as I say, we feel partly responsible for the difficulties you’re now having in making ends meet. He did leave you in an awkward financial situation.’
Glenda nodded. ‘The house is heavily mortgaged. There’s almost nothing left in my bank account.’
Simon turned to her. ‘Is this true, Mum?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. We’re nearly broke,’ she replied. ‘I was planning to look for a job.’
‘This is where we would like to help,’ Cutler said. ‘Mrs Savage, I understand your parents live in England. In Bristol?’
‘That’s right,’ Glenda replied. ‘My mother and father moved to Australia when I was young. They lived here for many years. They decided to go back to England about eighteen months ago.’
‘Along with Simon and Lily, they are your closest family now,’ Cutler stated.
Glenda nodded.
‘What are you getting at?’ Simon asked.
‘I’ll come to that in a moment,’ Cutler replied. ‘But first, I should inform you both that the Time Bureau will be holding an official enquiry into Hale’s disappearance. This will be secret and out of the public eye. But, Mrs Savage, as the Bureau is based in England, it might be useful for you to be close by while we carry out this investigation.’
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