‘What’s his name?’ James asked Aureole.
‘Who?’ she mumbled, seemingly lost in thought.
James clicked his fingers in front of her face. ‘This friend of yours,’ he said. ‘Surely, you can tell me that.’
‘Batak,’ said Aureole, swatting his hand away as if it were a fly. ‘His name is Batak. But do not think you are going to meet him. You are staying in the hopper.’
‘Oh no,’ said James, not liking the way she was giving orders. ‘I’m coming with you.’
‘The Archipelagiens are not used to strangers,’ said Aureole.
‘I can’t help you find the SAFFIRE if I don’t know what’s going on,’ said James.
‘I only let you come in the first place because you were going to ruin everything,’ said Aureole angrily. ‘I do not need your help.’
James had had enough of everyone telling him what to do. ‘I’m not staying in the hopper.’
For a few moments they glared at each other.
‘Fine,’ hissed Aureole. ‘But I am not helping you if you get yourself into trouble.’
‘Fine,’ said James.
As they descended through the fluffy white clouds, a tropical island came into view. It looked like a postcard: the rim of an extinct volcano, a beautiful horseshoe shape, fringed by a coral reef. The ocean breeze gswayed the palms and rippled the pristine waters. The idea that there might be a phone here quickly dissolved. Reception was unlikely in the middle of the ocean.
Aureole brought the hopper down low until it was skimming the surface of the water. She decelerated, bringing the hopper round to dock at the end of a long wharf made of bamboo and thin vines. She turned to James, pointed her finger at him and said, ‘Now listen. The Archipelagiens do not generally allow people on their island. They are wary of strangers. So do not draw attention to yourself while we are here. That means no flying!’
‘Yes ma’am,’ said James, giving her a salute.
‘I mean it.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said James. ‘I’ll stay on the ground.’
Aureole eyed him for a moment and then said, ‘Open.’
The cabin roof slid back and the sound of waves crashing and the smell of salt air rushed in.
‘I didn’t know these things were waterproof,’ said James, as he steadied himself before jumping the small gap between the hopper and the wharf, which turned out to be much more solid than it looked. Aureole brushed aside his helping hand.
‘Up to 150 metres,’ she said, after jumping onto the jetty beside him.
‘Nearly as good as my watch.’ He grinned at her, but she ignored his comment and strode off toward the beach.
‘Come on, then,’ she said.
It was hard to tell how far the beach stretched. A rocky outcrop capped the closest end, waves crashing against the boulders, throwing a fine salty spray into the air. The other end disappeared around a gentle bend.
As soon as James’s feet hit the fine white sand, an overwhelming desire to drop to his knees and kiss the ground took hold of him, and down he went.
‘Get up,’ hissed Aureole, casting an eye around the beach.
For once, James ignored her. He rolled onto his back and moved his arms and legs in an arc, making a sand angel. ‘Do you know how long it’s been since I stood on Mother Earth?’ he shouted into the air. ‘I’ve missed it so much.’
Aureole stood over him. ‘You are not standing, you are lying down. Now get up!’
James sat up and started removing his shoes. The warmth of the beach beneath his feet was comforting.
‘What are you doing now?’ she said, pressing a hand to her forehead.
‘I just want to feel the sand between my toes.’ James wiggled his toes into the sand until they were covered. He looked up at Aureole, used a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. ‘Don’t you ever miss that?’
‘No, I do not,’ she said without hesitation. ‘You might have forgotten, but I do not come from down here.’ She stamped her foot. ‘Now get up.’
James jumped up and brushed the sand off his clothes. ‘Come on then, what are we waiting for?’
Aureole glowered at him.
TWENTY-SIX
Archipelago, Indonesian Waters
They walked up the beach in silence towards a line of coconut trees, the sand squeaking softly beneath James’s feet. Beyond the beach was a flat grassy plain that stretched right around the narrow arc of earth to some low hills in the distance. The whole island was peppered with palm trees and Poincianas in flower. Up ahead, among the trees, sat about twenty grass huts, and except for a slight breeze rustling the palm fronds, nothing stirred.
James followed Aureole along a narrow dirt track. ‘This feels eerie. Are you sure he’s home?’ he whispered as they got closer to the little village.
‘I told you, they do not like strangers.’
All the huts were no higher than about a metre and a half. James pointed to one and said with a laugh, ‘I guess that’s his house over there.’
Aureole gave him a look of surprise. ‘How did you know that?’
‘It’s the only one with solar panels and a satellite dish on the roof.’ Maybe there would be a phone after all.
‘Oh, right. Of course.’ Aureole walked up to the hut door and pushed a button partially obscured by palm fronds.
‘I can’t believe he has a doorbell,’ said James, listening to the chimes inside. The hut door swung open and there stood a spider monkey, beckoning them in. ‘And a pet monkey!’ Aureole didn’t look shocked to see a monkey answer the door. James gave a shrug and, dropping his shoes beside the door, followed her inside, ducking his head as he entered. Out of courtesy, he slipped off his sunglasses and placed them in his jacket.
The hut was empty except for a small bamboo table sitting on a grass mat in the middle of the room. The spider monkey motioned for them to take a seat on the mat.
‘Look at you,’ said James, reaching out to pat it. ‘Aren’t you a cutie?’
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ warned a deep voice. James snapped back his hand and scanned the room. ‘He’s got pretty sharp teeth and doesn’t like condescending tones,’ continued the voice.
James looked back at the monkey, who bared his teeth as if to agree with the voice.
Aureole spoke up, but in a language James was unfamiliar with. Her voice was gentle and calming, nothing like the way she spoke to James. Every time he heard his name mentioned the monkey looked at him and swished its tail angrily.
Whoever Aureole was talking to soon calmed down. ‘Well then, you’d better come down,’ said the voice.
‘Thank you,’ said Aureole. She jumped up and pushed the table and grass mat to one side, exposing a trapdoor.
She heaved it open and started climbing down a bamboo ladder. ‘Come on then,’ she said to James.
James glanced at the monkey, who was waving goodbye with one long spindly arm, before heading down after her. When he reached the bottom, it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, then his jaw dropped. He was standing, his head brushing the ceiling, in a long narrow room full of gadgets: some flashing, others whirring and beeping. A dozen laptops lined one dirt wall, and there was a mountain of half-disassembled circuit boards and other electronic equipment piled at the far end. If Darren had been here, he would have thought he was in tech heaven. Several computers were flashing up images quicker than James could focus on them. But his attention shifted to the middle of the room, where Aureole was hugging a very young boy.
She turned at the sound of James behind her, and said, ‘This is James, the Agrarien I told you about.’ James smiled awkwardly.
The boy moved forward cautiously, and James realised that he was not a child at all, but a young man, probably in his late teens or early twenties. He was not much more than than a metre tall, with tightly curled, jet-black hair.
‘Hello, James, my name is Batak,’ he said, extending his tiny hand. ‘Please forgive my earlier behaviour. Though Aureol
e has mentioned you before, I was not aware that you were coming with her. When my scanners picked up two people in the hopper, I thought that she may have been compromised. But she has cleared up the confusion now. So welcome.’ He smiled the whitest smile James had ever seen.
‘Thank you.’ James threw Aureole a sideways glance. He reached out and took Batak’s hand. He felt like a giant compared to this Archipelagien. ‘This place is amazing,’ he said, gazing around at all the hardware.
Batak dipped his head. ‘Thank you.’
‘So, Batak,’ said Aureole, ‘have you located any ships?’ She was clearly hoping for some good news.
Batak’s face lit up in an instant. ‘I found three likely candidates,’ he said. ‘None of them was logged into any maritime computer system. And when I calculated their courses in relation to where Nebulosity was situated at the time, all fell within the desired range.’
‘Nebulosity moves around?’ said James.
‘Of course,’ said Batak. ‘Being a cloud, it is constantly moving around with the thermal currents.’
‘Oh,’ said James. ‘I just thought it would be too heavy or something.’
‘Too heavy? James, it’s a cloud,’ said Batak with a ghost of a smile. James felt himself redden.
‘The ships, Batak?’ said Aureole impatiently.
‘Oh right, yes.’ Batak stepped over to one of the laptops and punched several keys. A map flashed up on the screen and he pointed to it. ‘The first ship was destined for Peru. I think it was smuggling –’
‘Let me guess,’ said Aureole, sombre. ‘Guns.’
‘Yes,’ said Batak and then, pointing to another part of the map, continued, ‘The second ship was travelling to the Philippines. People smugglers.’
‘People smuggling. That’s just wrong!’ said James.
‘Yes, tragically it’s big business,’ replied Batak. ‘The poor people on that ship were, I believe, Middle Eastern refugees. How they got on that ship is anyone’s guess. Both of these ships made it to their destinations . . . though I’m sure they got a surprise when the authorities were waiting for them.’ Batak flashed a grin at his visitors.
‘What about the third ship?’ asked Aureole, crossing her arms and nodding toward the screen.
Batak scratched the top of his head. ‘The third one’s a bit of a mystery,’ he said. ‘It was a whaling boat heading for the Antarctic, but . . . it’s disappeared.’
‘Maybe it sank?’ suggested James.
Batak shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. They sent no distress signals.’
‘Maybe they didn’t have time to send one out,’ said James.
‘Maybe . . . but I think it’s more probable that it made an emergency docking somewhere,’ said Batak. He gestured toward another computer. ‘I’m checking every port in the southern hemisphere for any suspicious ships. I’m betting it was damaged and they’ve had to disguise the ship to get it repaired.’
James’s eyebrows pulled together. ‘Damaged, how?’
‘I believe it was struck by the SAFFIRE,’ said Batak.
‘Falling from that height, with that mass . . . it could have made quite a hole. I’ve made up a computer simulation if you’d like to . . .’
Aureole waved a dismissive hand. ‘When will you know for sure?’
‘Patience, Aureole,’ said Batak, patting her on the arm. ‘My computers are working as fast as they can. I’ll know a lot more in the morning.’ Ignoring Aureole’s raised eyebrow, he continued, ‘The sun will be setting soon and festivities have been planned to celebrate your visit.’
‘Batak, you know that is not necessary. It was only going to be a short stay.’
Batak held up his tiny hand to silence her. ‘You know what my people are like. They may be xenophobic, but when you earn their trust there’s no stopping them. They love to party.’
‘We might have been tracked here,’ said James. ‘People from Nebulosity could turn up at any moment.’
Batak spread his arms wide. ‘Look at all this technology. No one can get near this island without me knowing well in advance,’ he said. ‘You are perfectly safe here.’ He flashed his white teeth again. ‘Time for some fun.’
James shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ll go back to the hopper,’ he said quietly to Aureole.
‘No, you won’t,’ said Batak, shaking a finger at him. ‘A-po´y has already informed everyone that you are here with Aureole as my guest.’
‘A-po´y?’
‘The monkey you saw earlier,’ said Batak.
James let out a laugh, but when he saw Batak and Aureole gazing at him quizzically he quickly stifled it. Surely Batak isn’t serious? ‘Animals can’t talk,’ he said in his defence.
As he followed them back up the bamboo ladder, he thought he heard Aureole mutter to Batak, ‘Agrariens.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
Erebus found it difficult to drive slowly. It was not natural for the high-performance V12 to purr at such low revs, but his desire to feel the g-forces of her radical acceleration and hear her engine sing was only a small part of his frustration. Since leaving Melbourne, Wilson had whinged and whined, shifted uncomfortably, commented on every shop front, street name and road sign, and intermittently counted things out loud, all because Erebus and Collins wouldn’t play Spotto with him. Even the threat of the ‘red button’ only kept him quiet for a minute or so before he started up again.
Stopping for fuel was sensible as they had a long drive ahead, however Erebus couldn’t account for everything. No sooner had he paid for the premium, buckled his belt and driven from the service station than he realized Wilson was missing. He clenched his teeth, did a U-turn and drove back into the service station.
Wilson’s scrawny figure was fleeter on foot than one would credit. He made the BMW in a flash, was in the backseat before the car stopped, but Erebus knew there could be no clean getaway.
‘For crying out loud, what were you thinking?’ barked Erebus.
‘I needed to go to the bathroom,’ said Wilson. ‘When I came out you were gone, so I just . . .’
‘Just what?’
‘I just . . .’ He looked to Collins for some support, but Collins ignored him, and he fell silent.
Erebus took a left, an immediate right and another left and headed back toward the city. Night wasn’t too far off, but it wasn’t yet dark enough to employ stealth mode and there was no way they could escape on the open roads, no matter how fast the V12 could go. He saw the police before their sirens began to wail. Satellite tracking was the only way the police could have found them so quickly. The BMW sped along the back streets, changing direction at almost every corner, dashed down laneways, through carparks and even zigzagged through an open-air shopping mall. Highway patrol cars were everywhere, a PolAir helicopter was circling above, but all was not lost.
The night came falling from the east and with it came their best chance of a getaway. All Erebus had to do was avoid getting trapped behind a road block, keep the police guessing, and when the time was right stealth mode would do the rest. Not exactly child’s play, but Erebus was quietly confident.
Once out of the backstreets, the silver BMW raced through the streets trailing a long line of police cars. Erebus thumbed over the sensor on the steering wheel and the control panel appeared on the windscreen. He flicked through a menu, GPS locator – ON, Police locator – ON, Safety House locator – ON. The words “CALCULATING ROUTE” appeared in a luminescent orange, then the navigation panel lit up. A clear, almost militaristic masculine voice said, ‘Take off-ramp, against the traffic, left, 300 metres.’
‘Okay, here we go,’ said Erebus.
Contrasted against the drab trees and shops, the silver BMW, splashed in red and blue light, was dazzling in the PolAir spotlight. Six patrol cars were on their bumper as they swerved hard left, past the “Wrong Way Go Back” sign and onto the highway.
‘Boss, we’re g-goin’ the wrong direction,’ stutter
ed Wilson.
The V12 engine began to sing as it approached maximum revs. Erebus dodged the oncoming traffic with ease and the patrol cars fell back, but the PolAir chopper spotlight never left them.
The navigation system spoke again. ‘Prepare for Manoeuvre K.’
‘Manoeuvre K?’ asked Wilson.
Erebus swerved to the left lane, dodging an on-coming car. He thumbed the controls again and waited.
‘Initiate Manoeuvre K,’ said the navigation system.
Erebus flicked the cap on the gearstick open. ‘Let’s give them what they want,’ he said, placing his thumb firmly over the red button.
‘No, Boss! Please noooooo . . .’
‘Sorry, Wilson,’ yelled Erebus, catching a glimpse of his offsider in the rear-view mirror.
Wilson’s eyes were terrified as he searched for something to hold on to. He screamed as if he were about to be shot out of a cannon.
As Erebus pressed the red button, Wilson screamed again at the top of his lungs, ‘Nooooooooooo!’
The wheels squealed and the tail of the car lashed from left to right and back, smoke spewing from the rear tyres. The tachometer needle was already past the red line, 9,000 . . . 10,000 . . . 11,000 revs per minute. The BMW sped away from the pool of light and away from the PolAir chopper. Erebus held the wheel tight and counted the seconds before the nitrous oxide would melt the engine. Eight . . . Seven . . . Six. The BMW turned from silver to matt black. Stealth mode cut the lights and the nitro. Two . . . One. The speedometer read 320 km/h as they sped from certain capture.
‘Release the controls,’ came the navigator’s voice. Large digital numbers appeared on the screen and began to count down: 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1. The engine died, the brakes applied and the steering wheel turned hard left, sending the car into a slide. Erebus didn’t like not being in control, but all he, Wilson and Collins could do was brace themselves. The car almost came to a stop, then accelerated toward a small gap in the island that separated the north- and south-bound lanes. Erebus sensed that Collins, in the front passenger seat, was holding his breath. The BMW scraped through the gap, turned and accelerated along the southbound lanes. They crossed to the left lane and raced down an exit ramp, braked hard and stopped beneath the overhead bridge that was the highway. A few seconds later they heard the PolAir chopper fly past, in pursuit of a car it would never see again.
Wraith Page 14