Chapter 3
Adversity causes some men to break, and others to break records.
-William Arthur Ward
To my right, the homestead flyscreen door slammed.
“Mornin’ Hope!” greeted Dave.
I vaulted over the makeshift gate.
“Bye Dave. Say bye to Jen,” I replied, hurling Missy and my handbag into Pegasus and jumping in behind them.
I glanced in my rear vision mirror as Pegasus roared to life. Dave was walking towards my vehicle with a confused look on his face. My two ex-housemates were running towards their jeep.
It was going to be close. The only way I could ensure Dave wouldn’t get hurt was to get away fast.
I took off, showering their jeep in crushed quartz. Pegasus struggled for a moment to get traction, then fishtailed and broke into a full gallop. Another glance in the rear vision mirror. Mr Loud-shirt had got the jeep started in record time and was already following me. Mr Laconic was standing up and had his arm extended, like he was pointing in my direction. Further back still, Dave was clambering into his jeep.
Oh no! He was following us!
Something hit Pegasus’s back window and it turned opaque. I jumped with fright. A bullet hitting glass didn’t sound like it did on the movies. It was much noisier. Being shot at while driving didn’t feel too hot either. It was mega-scary.
A road sign indicated the T junction ahead. The Laverton-Leonora road. I glanced right. A road train was close. There was a second semi-trailer rambling along behind it. Just enough time if I judged it right...
My tyres screamed their protest as I turned in front of the road train. The truckie’s tyres screamed their protest and melted with an accompanying cloud of acrid smoke. I glanced guiltily in the rear vision mirror. The driver was fighting to keep control of his rig... his three trailers lurching violently either side of middle. Behind him the other semi driver was fighting to slow his laden rig to avoid collision with the first semi.
“God help them!” I arrow-prayed.
I wasn’t sure if I’d built up enough credit in the bank of miracles to have my prayer for the truckies answered.
Another micro-check in the mirror. Both rigs were intact and slowing to a stop in the opposite lane. Slowing as in all tyres screeching rubber and jolting to a stop leaving impressive marks on the bitumen. A speck ploughed through the cloud of smoke and turned into my lane.
I planted my foot...
Ω
Dave turned his jeep around and headed back home. Fine bulldust was still resettling in the burnt-rubber tainted air. Other than that, there was no sign of the two vehicles which had almost caused a quad-disaster.
Jen joined Dave the moment he drove up.
“What was all that about?”
“I’m not sure. But they fired at her with a 9mm pistol. And I saw her rear window shatter.”
Jen looked horrified.
“Did the bullet get her?”
Dave gazed off into the distance.
“At a guess I’d say they missed anything vital. That XY of hers has a unique purr. I heard it slow down for the junction then accelerate off again through the screech of some truckie’s brakes. Sounded like she was in control and she had a bit of a lead on them... As for that other pair of drongos, they nearly became pizza between two semis at the junction. I didn’t see much point in pursuing any of them in old rattly here, so I opted to check to see if the semi drivers were okay.”
“Are they?”
“Yeah. They were both just shaken. I gave them our card to say I was a witness, in case they cop any flak from their bosses about the flat spots on their tyres. Everything considered, it could have been a lot worse...”
“Why did they shoot at her Dave?”
Dave rubbed his chin pensively.
“That bit’s bothering me I admit... She didn’t strike me as having criminal tendencies... So she must have heard something... or seen something they didn’t want her to see.”
“So what if they decide they don’t want any witnesses to their behaviour?”
“We’re in a pretty safe position love. The visitors strip at either gate gives us advance warning someone’s coming. Enough time to prepare for trouble. And if we feel we have to make ourselves scarce, we can bunk down in the den comfortably for weeks...”
“You mean use the safe-house?”
“That’s why we built it, isn’t it?”
Ω
“Are we there yet?” grumbled Maya.
“You’ve asked him that ten times,” interposed Jake.
“Well he’s said ‘we’re nearly there’ ten times!”
“We’re there!” grinned Zac, pointing to a willow tree. “Duck through those dangling branches and you’ll see where you’re gonna learn to relax for the rest of the day.”
“Willow trees aren’t indigenous species in the park are they?” asked Jake.
“No. It’s been planted as a kind of living marker I think.”
Jake and Maya pushed their way through the foliage and found a hidden camping spot with a thermal spring. Maya let out a squeal of delight.
“This place is incredible! It’s so... unspoiled.”
“Five star enough for you?”
“It’s ten star! Check it out. The waterfall’s all bubbly and warm!”
Zac laughed playfully.
“I’ll make us some grub while you two explore.”
“How did you know this place was here? There’s no signpost on the track to say it’s here,” ventured Jake.
“Your dad brought me here once. Not long after we first met. He called it the Garden of Eden from memory.”
“Well the name’s spot on,” said Maya as she soaked her feet languidly.
“Funny... There’s no mention of it in my Yellowstone Park guidebook. Is it marked on the map Dad gave you?”
“I haven’t looked. Check if you like. It’s in the outside pocket of my pack,” said Zac as he fired up the gas stove to heat their dinner.
Jake opened up the map and studied it.
“I’ve found it on Dad’s map. It’s marked with a pair of flying wings. That’s odd... According to this map, this place is a military recreational camping area and it borders a no-go military training zone.”
“Really? Show me,” said Zac with interest.
Zac studied the map for a long moment and frowned faintly.
“Is something wrong?” asked Jake.
“No. It’s just that if this map is correct, I’ve been hiking before in the no-go military training area. Without realizing it.”
“With Dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would Gordon take you into a restricted military area?” piped up Maya.
“Maybe he didn’t know the area was restricted,” shrugged Zac. “Or maybe it used to be restricted when this map was produced but things have changed since then. I mean it says this recreational area belongs to the Air Intelligence Agency. But that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“What if someone military comes along and says it’s their place?” asked Jake with a hint of nervousness.
“We’ll just tell them we were using an old map and we thought we were allowed here,” shrugged Zac. “Don’t worry Jake. This place is in the middle of nowhere. And it doesn’t look like anyone’s used this recreation area for years...”
Ω
“Gidday room-mate!” greeted Charlie warmly.
Ryan nodded to the cocoa-skinned man who had wandered in, in just a towel. He was like everyone else up here. Fit, broad-shouldered and grey.
“What gives?” grinned Charlie amicably, as he dropped his towel.
“Sir?”
“You just sighed.”
“I did? Er... Sorry.”
Ryan kept steady eye contact with Charlie to avoid glimpsing his genital region.
“I haven’t asked the boss... I was just wondering. Is there anyone stationed here that’s... closer to my age?”
“Nope.”
R
yan nodded curtly and averted his gaze. Charlie turned around and clambered into his clothes. Ryan picked up his iPhone and plonked himself down on his bed. He shoved his Beats headphones on and lay back and closed his eyes. Charlie shook his head faintly and redirected his attention as Jed and Rod walked in. Rod glanced at Charlie with raised eyebrows.
“Strike out with the pup?” he asked casually.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me ‘coz I’ve got grey hair...” groused Charlie.
“I can swipe some hair dye off the Missus,” suggested Rod.
“Or I can shave it off for ya,” offered Jed.
Charlie cracked up. Rod and Jed draped demonstrative arms around Charlie’s shoulders.
“Quick. Let’s get outta here. In case he thinks touching shoulders is gay.”
The three men made a beeline for the common room.
“It’s only been a day and I’m already fed up of this pup!” groused Charlie.
“Patience Charlie!” said Rod and Jed in unison.
Ω
Dave rubbed his chin pensively.
“Her room’s empty, except for this note and a tip... It’s written on the back of the FOUND poster she was making for the cat...”
“What about their rooms?”
“They’ve left a fair bit of gear behind.”
“That means they might come back!”
“The Good Lord’s our refuge Jen... Although He also expects us to use the commonsense He’s given us.”
“My commonsense is a bit fuzzy at the moment. Can you give me concrete directives to follow instead?”
“In order of priority... Switch on all the surveillance cameras so we can get some good mug shots of them if they come back. Stock up the pantry in the safe-house, then put on the kettle.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Carefully go through their belongings to see if I can find out anything more about them... Ring the bloke named Frank on this poster of Hope’s... Then sit down with you over a cuppa and try and make sense of the pieces of this puzzle...”
One day your life will flash before your eyes.
Make sure it’s worth watching.
-Unknown
I’d been running on adrenaline since I left Dave and Jen’s place. I hadn’t dared look at the speedometer, but I knew intuitively that Pegasus’s 300 hp motor was getting the cobwebs blown out of it. She had not skipped a beat, but we both needed to stop shortly. I had a full bladder and Pegasus’s tank was nearing empty.
I forced myself to be optimistic.
Hey I was still alive...
The presence of a police car patrolling back in Leonora had probably saved my life. It had kept my pursuers a respectful distance behind me and they’d avoided discharging their firearm in my direction when I’d slowed down to drive through town. I’d managed to regain my 500 metre separation distance out on the open road, but I knew we had to slow down again through the next blink-and-you-miss-it town of Menzies. They knew it too. And we both knew the chances of seeing another police patrol vehicle were a million to zilch.
Menzies was just around the big bend in the distance. Self pity replaced my forced optimism. I sighed noisily.
If I survived this and Zac found out about it, I’d be in big trouble.
Except being in trouble with Zac was an endearing, fond memory at this point.
My vision became clouded like I needed corrective surgery. Absorbed in my multilayered negativity, I barely had time to register that I was on a collision course with something big, as I rounded the bend...
“God help me!”
Another arrow prayer. Another withdrawal from the bank of miracles. With no time to stop, I ignored the flashing red signal and blaring warning horn and urged Pegasus up another notch on the speeding fine scale. A micro-check of my rear vision mirror. The Korean’s tight lipped anger. His offsider’s attempt to avoid the imminent collision - their second for the day. I hit the train tracks too fast but Pegasus handled the punishment, in defiance of the laws of physics and gravity. I glimpsed the terrified expression on the freight train driver’s face as metal missed metal by centimetres. Behind me I heard screeching brakes and rubber.
I risked another glance in the rear vision mirror as I drove around the wide bend into Menzies. Their jeep was bogged in bulldust and both men were looking over in my direction. Mr Loud-shirt had managed to avoid a collision with the train by deliberately manoeuvring their jeep off-road. He was definitely a better driver than me and obviously had an intimate knowledge of being in the thick of things. There was no way I could have done that without rolling the vehicle! Under different circumstances I would have admired his driving skills. His action had saved their lives. And given me precious time to get away from them.
For the time being I was safe...
Ω
“This mystery is perplexing,” complained Dave.
“What do we have so far?”
“A fax machine on the dining table... paper strewn around... A bit of a mess in the kitchen... And someone’s been in my workshop.”
“What did they take?” frowned Jen.
“As far as I can see they only took a can of white spray paint... Tossed the empty can in the kitchen bin...”
“Anything of interest in their luggage?”
“Tarapaca has a piece of paper with something written on it in Spanish. I took a photo of it ‘coz my Spanish is rusty, but it’s just the name of some garden I think. Nothing in Luan’s luggage at all.”
“Any tour guides?”
“No.”
“Well it doesn’t sound like they were tourists anyway...”
“Why?”
“The genuine tourists usually have maps, tour guides and things like that tucked away in their belongings. Even Zac had a few.”
“Hmmm. You’re right love.”
“What about their clothes?”
“Luan has mostly white T-shirts and khaki pants. Korean military issue, although he could have bought them at some army surplus store. Tarapaca’s got the usual colourful, loud shirts and shorts blokes wear in Chile.”
“Seems a bit strange someone from Korea travelling with someone from Chile. I haven’t come across that before...”
“I agree it’s an interesting combination of nationalities... I don’t see how it’s connected to why they were after her though... As for that Frank bloke... the last thing I expected him to say was that he doesn’t know her. I mean she’s put his name and phone number on her cat poster...”
I don't see the logic of rejecting data
just because they seem incredible.
-Fred Hoyle
“Rad! Check out what we’ve found Zac!” exclaimed Jake, snapping a photo. “It’s a wooden propeller off an old plane... I wonder how it got here?”
Zac meandered up to the others.
“There are a number of flying relics in this area. Last time I came through, there was even a skeleton of an airman dressed in old flying clothes.”
“A real skeleton?” asked Jake solemnly.
“Nah!” laughed Zac. “It’s fake. You know, like the ones medical students use. Gordon told me the military blokes leave messages for each other with it. They call it Skully!”
“Well I think what’s left of Skully’s plane is fascinating,” said Maya, snapping a photo. “The bit of the prop that’s in the water has already turned to stone... The same minerals that turned the twig to stone must have done this to the prop. I wonder if this happens anywhere else in the world?”
“I know of something similar back home,” replied Jake. “Have you ever visited that old wooden waterwheel down at Cape Leeuwin?”
“No.”
“Well that’s almost completely turned to stone, but they know it was in use 70 years ago. That’s also happened because of the precipitation of minerals from the flowing water.”
“Actually there are examples worldwide, and not just wood to stone,” replied Zac. “We’ll have to try and get to
Knaresborough one day.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s in England. About 20 kilometres west of York. There’s this waterfall there with stone teddy bears hanging under it. Not to mention stone clothes, top hats, shoes, umbrellas, teapots and ice skates. There’s even one of Agatha Christie’s handbags and one of John Wayne’s cowboy hats that have turned to stone. It’s a fascinating geological spectacle. As the water splashes onto the hanging objects, calcium carbonate is deposited along with small amounts of other minerals, and the deposits build up and coat objects with a crust of rock. How long it takes for something to become rock depends on the size and porosity of the object. But a small teddy turns to stone within a few months, and a non-porous item like a helmet takes about eighteen months.”
“That’s incredible! How come I’ve never heard of that place?” murmured Maya.
“Australia’s a long way from England,” shrugged Zac.
“I wonder if Frank’s heard of the place? I hope he hasn’t. That way I can sweet talk him into paying my expenses over there in exchange for a travel article.”
Zac chuckled.
“Well I guess what I find most interesting about Knaresborough is how quickly the flowstone has formed over everyday objects. Someone left a Victorian top hat and a ladies bonnet there back in 1853. They’re now completely covered in a thick layer of flowstone. The hats are known to be only 160 years old but the rock that’s covered them looks like it’s been there forever. And when you see everyday things you know are less than two hundred years old imbedded in a massive wall of stone, you start to realize how young the earth might really be...”
Ω
Pegasus arrived at Kalgoorlie gasping for fuel. I’d made it a policy never to run her tanks dry, and the DTE had been down to 5 miles. I apologized to her... filled her to the brim, then went inside to pay for the fuel.
Nearly dying takes a lot out of you. The smell of hot chips made me aware of how badly I needed food. Fast food... Even if I preferred organic to polyunsaturated. I walked away with a bucket of chips for an entrée.
Making myself invisible was top on the list. And to do that I needed to avoid electronic transactions for as long as possible. I withdrew a lump sum from the bank, then drove down the road and joined the overweight queue in MacDonalds for main course. I gulped down more calories until I felt better about my situation. Then I fired up my laptop while downing my cappuccino.
My choice of restaurants had been strategic. I knew the MacDonalds eating experience came with free wifi access. And next on the list was getting into Zac’s special database to work out who I was up against.
I logged in using #777#, then ran a background check on Luan and Tarapaca. The results were almost instantaneous and left me wildly scared. I saved screenshots of the information, wrapped up the remains of my meal for Missy and bolted out the restaurant for the security of Pegasus.
Ω
I drove west for the remainder of the day. Past Alternative 1 - which was to flee interstate via the Nullarbor. Interstate represented invisibility and the turnoff at Coolgardie was tempting. I flashed past it and pushed away the bubble of anxiety which lodged itself in my throat as a result of the decision. Yes, I needed to stay alive... But self preservation was not the only consideration. The lives of countless other Western Australians were at stake. General Luan’s plans needed to be exposed or disrupted.
I dismissed Alternative 2 as I reached the foothills of Perth. Hiding out on Frank’s hobby farm was tempting, but again not an option. Frank had stuck his neck out as the editor of The West. The paper had scooped the coverage of the Korean Weathermakers’ recent E/M weapons test in W.A... Stunning front page photos of the fireballs... eyewitness reports... an article which linked the failure of 10 million energy saving bulbs in Perth to the scalar weapons tests... a special series which drew attention to previous E/M weapons tests in Western Australia... and a front page story demanding the government collect the CFL bulbs which had been damaged in the weapons test to protect the environment against the heavy metals in them.
Frank had gone from covert expert, to overt authority and created an Australian-wide interest in the misuse of E/M weapons. But his actions also made him a person of interest to the likes of Luan and Tarapaca. Clearly I had to avoid contact with Frank until my pursuers had given up, or he might become a target as well.
Alternative 3 was crashing at Maya’s townhouse. Again however, it was not an alternative I wanted to take up... Maya was away somewhere, so staying at her place would not inconvenience her. I even knew where her spare key was. However, she’d covered the recent scalar weapons tests near Laverton and her articles had indicated she was an eyewitness. Which made her a target now also. Did the scientists she was hanging out with realize this? Perhaps that was why they’d all gone overseas. To become invisible.
Lucky Maya. Right this minute, invisibility sounded incredibly attractive...
Pray as though everything depended on God.
Work as though everything depended on you.
-Unknown
Zac thrashed around like a wounded seal in a shark tank. Maya and Jake both shook him awake.
“Zac... it’s okay... No one’s been shot! We’re all okay...” soothed Jake, shining the torch around so it rested on each of them in turn.
Maya gently caressed the top of Zac’s chest near his pounding heart. Zac exhaled noisily and peered at his surroundings in the predawn light.
“Sorry. It seemed so real...”
“We know. You were yelling loud enough to attract every bear for miles.”
A weak smile.
“The bears usually only make a nuisance of themselves in the touristy areas Maya. Or where people regularly leave food out for their pets.”
Silence. Maya moistened her lips.
“Hey Zac... I know talking about nightmares is against the whole tough-guy code of ethics, but you can talk about it if it helps.”
“I’m okay now... Really.”
“Are we allowed to ask who Hope is?” ventured Jake. “You were yelling out her name.”
“She’s my kid sister.”
“Must be a terror of a kid sister if she causes nightmares like that!” quipped Maya.
An emotional smile.
“She’s headstrong, but I love her to bits... I’m glad it was just a dream... It was so vivid. Hope was driving a hotted up XY... and then two men shot at her... and she was crying out my name... asking for help...”
“A hotted up XY? She sounds like a woman after my own heart!” smiled Maya.
“Crazy eh? She doesn’t even own an XY. She drives a classic VW bug.”
“Is it hotted up?”
Zac wiped his glistening brow and chuckled weakly.
“I have no idea. Maybe you can ask her if you’re still hanging out with us at the end of next week. Unless something crops up I plan to catch up with her when we leave Yellowstone.”
“In Alaska?”
“Ah ha. She lives on campus in Anchorage and comes home for term breaks.”
“What’s she studying?”
“Journalism... Except she keeps deferring units. It’s taking her forever to get her degree. Maybe you can inspire her to hurry up and finish it, if you two get to meet.”
Silence.
“Do you normally dream about people getting shot?” probed Jake.
“No. Although I can’t say I blame you for thinking that. Especially since you’ve only known me for two weeks and I’ve woken you up twice now with nightmares about people getting shot.”
“Well mum really did get shot and she really did die in your arms. So having a nightmare about that doesn’t count...” mused Jake.
“But your sister didn’t die in your arms so the dream might be a warning, so that does count,” countered Maya. “Dear Still Small Voice... Please send Jireh to rescue Zac’s sister if she’s being shot at and tell her what to do. In Jesus Name.”
“Amen,” said Jake and Maya
in unison.
“Thanks guys,” whispered Zac.
“Did we do it right? It didn’t sound quite as good as the preachers on the tele.”
“Course you did it right. God answers prayers from the heart. He isn’t the slightest bit religious... ”
Ω
Zac’s face swum into my consciousness... Running to him for protection was Alternative 4. Except I didn’t know what continent he was on. In fact I didn’t even know which hemisphere he was in. He moved around with his work.
“God...What would Zac tell me to do?” I sob-prayed.
Go to the Safehouse.
The instruction was clear... Like someone was softly speaking in my ear. I spun around in fright, almost expecting someone to be sitting in the back seat.
It was empty.
The previous Christmas, Zac had come home for holidays. And while he was home he’d made me memorize a list of addresses. He said they were safehouses, if I ever found myself overseas and needed refuge. Dad had listened to us curiously, then he backed up Zac’s efforts until I had the addresses down pat... At the time I’d resented Zac’s over-protectiveness. Now I was overwhelmed with gratefulness. The safehouse in Western Australia was in Perth, near a shipping port. But in my present panic-riddled state I couldn’t recall the address. I couldn’t even think of the name of the suburb. I blinked back the tears and waited for some circuit to activate...
A road sign loomed up in front of me.
Welcome to the City of Rockingham.
The confusion crumbled around me. I drew a steadying breath as I heard my voice reciting the address in unison with Zac.
1023 Rockingham Beach Road, Rockingham...
I went from helpless to hopeful in a heartbeat.
“Thanks God,” I whispered emotionally. “You just did something pretty mind blowing...”
Ω
1023 Rockingham Beach Road was down near the beach - like I’d expected. The owner of 1023 Rockingham Beach Road was nothing like I’d expected however.
Crawley was a cumbersome man with implanted hair and over-whitened teeth, preserving his fleeing youth with plastic surgery and Botox. Somehow he didn’t strike me as someone safe to hang out with, but I was too done in to care. I just needed somewhere to sleep where pets were permitted. And Crawley’s hostel met both criteria.
“Rent’s a month in advance,” he said demandingly.
I nodded in exhausted agreement and handed him $600 in cash. He didn’t offer a receipt. I didn’t push for one. I wanted to keep my life untraceable anyway.
In my bleary state of fatigue it didn’t occur to me there might be some reason why only three of the twenty rooms in Crawley’s hostel were occupied.
It was a ramshackle structure which had just missed out being heritage-listed. Jarrah floorboards and ornate ceiling roses hinted how majestic the building had been in a bygone era. It was well past its “use by” date now however. So were the common area furnishings. The games area housed a dilapidated pool table. The lounge sported green shaggy-pile carpet and a champagne-pale couch which exuded sweaty bursts of living. The communal kitchen had chipped enamel appliances. Damp vapours brooded from the laundry area. Overflowing septic tanks fed the remnant of a once thriving cottage garden. The women’s ablutions had no hot water. And the men’s didn’t look promising either.
The room I’d rented was past its “use by” date too. Sagging ceilings, bubbling wallpaper and stained carpet. I felt safe however because there were two exits. The front door opened up onto the road and overlooked the coast and the fast setting sun. The rear door opened into a tributary hallway as narrow as a coin slot, which led to the back alley. I practised opening and closing both doors several times and planned my escape route in both directions.
The room was unfurnished but by happenstance there was a deceased estate garage sale next door. Two hundred dollars bought me the dead woman’s bedroom suite. Another untraceable transaction, with the added bonus of the use of a sturdy furniture trolley...
I relocated the furniture into my room, returned the trolley and flopped down on the bed. Missy joined me, purring like a chainsaw. The adrenaline and bad coffee I’d been running on all day lost their efficacy as her purring lulled me into relaxed mode. Within minutes I was fast asleep...
Be like a postage stamp. Stick to something until you get there.
-Josh Billings
“Want to talk about it?” invited Jen gently.
A lengthy silence. Jen waited.
“I guess what’s knotting me up is, she’s somebody’s sister... and somebody’s daughter...” said Dave eventually. “And if we had a daughter - and she was being hounded overseas in Alaska - we’d want someone to help her, wouldn’t we?”
“Course we would.”
“She’s gonna probably end up dead unless someone helps her... If she’s not already cactus.”
“Maybe Gordon can help us out.”
“Gordon? Nah love... He’s too busy caught up in international affairs to be interested in scrums between individuals...”
“Well, she was being pursued by two foreigners that probably aren’t tourists. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
“I dunno... I think I need to sleep on it.”
“Why don’t you lie on the swag and I’ll rub your neck?”
“If you do that I might nod off. And Gordon’s due to contact me in an hour.”
“I can listen out for his call. And wake you if he has important information to pass onto you.”
“S’pose it wouldn’t matter for one night if you took the call instead of me. Like you said, you can always wake me...”
Jen caressed Dave’s shoulders - his neck muscles were uncharacteristically knotted. She ran her fingers soothingly along them and deliberately said nothing. Dave’s breathing slowed and became rhythmical. She kissed him gently then got up and made herself a strong coffee.
Ω
“Whiskey Alpha Yankee Six... niner... eight... Got a copy David?”
“Copy Gordon... It’s Jen here.”
“Jen? Good evening. What a pleasant surprise. Where’s the man of the house?”
“Um... He’s nodded off. I’ll just go wake him.”
“No need... I was just touching bases with him. Somethin’ unusual happening your way, eh?”
“Er... we’ve had a couple of unusual things happen... But they’re nothing to do with the Weathermakers’ activities in Australia.”
“But the unusual things have got David in a knot, eh?”
“How do you know?”
“I lived with him for two years while you two were going through hellfire because of Maree, remember? And he’s a creature of habit. When he’s stretched, he flakes out early. When he’s carefree, he’s a night-owl.”
Jen paused.
“Dave said it’s not the sort of thing to bother you with...”
“David’s knots don’t knot me up!” laughed Gordon. “Come on Jen. We hardly ever chat. Tell me all about the knot! And the thread!”
Another pause.
“Um... well we had a young woman arrive yesterday. She claimed she knew Maya. Actually we think she was looking for her...”
“Go on.”
“Well, when she arrived she found a tin in the singlemen’s quarters with some left over components from the project Zac and his team were building here last week. Dave says she knew they were part of a scalar weapon kit.”
“Interesting...”
“Anyway, she told us she intended on staying a week when she booked in. But she literally fled early this morning. The other two blokes who booked in as well yesterday evening took off after her. And one of them tried to shoot her.”
“Nasty chaps. Did she know them?”
“She arrived separately and they didn’t appear to know her... And we spent several hours chatting with her last night and she never mentioned them either... The strange thing was, last night when we were chatting, I kept feeling I knew her...”
&nb
sp; “Has she stayed with you before?”
“No... I’d have remembered her. She had black hair and blue eyes.”
“Black hair and blue eyes is a curious combination... Hair dye or possibly a wig?”
“I thought the same thing.”
“Any accent?”
“Hard to tell. Her English was excellent... She said she was a backpacker. From Alaska... I was wondering actually... Is Zac’s sister in Australia at the moment?”
“Unlikely. She’s never been out of Alaska to my knowledge.”
“Oh. I was almost certain...”
“...that the young woman was his sister?” supplied Gordon.
“I agree the claim seems bizarre. That’s why I haven’t asked Helen.”
“Jennifer... You have an unsurpassed ability to recognize faces and mannerisms. If this young woman seems familiar to you, then she is familiar to someone you’ve met... Out of curiosity though, what made you think she’s related to Zac?”
“Her eyes. The expression in her eyes as she intently soaked up information... It was Zac all over. And she flung her hair the way Helen does when she’s embarrassed... And tapped her forehead just like Kiviuq does when he’s trying to figure something out... I haven’t seen Helen’s daughter since she was three, but I’m almost certain it was her because of the mannerisms...”
Gordon chuckled.
“Well irrespective of whether she’s related to the Canney’s, the question is, has this young woman’s sudden appearance at your B & B and her understanding of E/M weapons got anything to do with why she’s being pursued by a couple of heavies?”
“Dave’s wondering the same thing... Gordon... If I ask a personal favour will you keep it under wraps?”
“You want me to do a background check on all three of your ex-guests eh?”
“Only if you’ve got time.”
“I’ll make time... What name did the young woman sign in under?”
“H. Cannikin...“
“Hmmm. Zac’s sister’s name is Tunfaruq from memory.”
“I know she didn’t use the initial T and the surname’s a little different. But Zac doesn’t use his traditional name either. And Helen told me one time that Tunfaruq translates as ‘trusting hope’. And the young woman said her name was Hope.”
Gordon cleared his throat softly.
“Gordon, are you still there?”
“Er...yes... Just writing down the details. What names did the heavies sign in under?”
“Mr Luan from Korea and Mr Tarapaca from Chile.”
“Tarapaca?”
“Yes... You sound like you’ve heard of him. Should I wake Dave?”
“No... Let him snooze. Listen Jen, I’ll get back to you in person about the background checks.”
“You will? Thanks Gordon...”
Ω
Dave stirred as Jen walked back into the room.
“Goodness... Look at the time... Gordon will be on Echolink any minute.”
“He just got off actually... I mentioned you were taking a catnap and he said not to wake you. Nothing significant his way.”
Dave rubbed his eyes tiredly. Jen sank down onto the swag beside him.
“It’s not just those blokes chasing Hope, is it?” she probed gently.
Dave sighed noisily.
“I’ve been thinking about when she caught us out. I behaved like she was one of our boys interrupting us. Then I chatted with her like she was family... And I did the same thing to Zac the other night when he interrupted us... What’s got into me lately luv?”
“Empty nest syndrome!” joked Jen. “Our kids are off our hands now so you’ve taken to parenting other strays that drop in.”
“You think that’s all it is?”
“Maybe Hope was a bit like the daughter we never had but always wanted... I mean you were having an awful lot of fun last night. Introducing her to the principals of a pleasurable marriage.”
“I was, wasn’t I? Sorry if I overstepped the mark Jen. You’re more precious to me than anyone else on this planet... Our passion and freedom... I never want to mar it...”
“You didn’t overstep any boundaries Dave. And I was chaperoning you anyway... For some reason you and Hope just clicked. And she felt like she could trust you enough to ask you lots of dad questions and bounce her ideas about intimacy off you... You’ve been a mentor to countless young men over the years, but always kept your distance when it comes to young women.”
“But Jen, you know why I’ve kept my distance...”
“I know. But as you saw first hand last night young women need mentoring as much as men do. Maybe the winds of change are blowing, eh?”
Ω
“Thanks for wearing two hats Jody.”
“That’s alright Frank. You rarely ask me to. And the offer of double time while you’re away from your desk is generous.”
“I might be away for a few days... I just wanted to tie up as many lose ends as possible before I leave... Sorry, can we go through the list once more?”
“Sure. I’ve rung up and checked with the B & B. They have vacancies and they’ve pencil booked your friend Jonathan Walker in... The service centre has checked over your BMW... Tomorrow’s front page is ready to go... Your appointments for the next two days are cancelled... Your work mobile has been diverted to my phone... And I’m to tell Maya or Heidi to contact you pronto on your sat phone if either of them ring through to you...”
“Great. Anything else you can think of?”
“Just one thing. Frank... about that crank caller today...”
“The one that rang with the wild tip off about the woman in danger?”
“Yeah. He rang back again after you hung up on him...”
“What?”
“He really sounded worried that you said you didn’t know the woman... what was her name again?”
“I think he said Hope...”
“I’ve been thinking... what if you do know the woman but he’s got the wrong name?”
“Or what if it’s someone I know using a different name? I suppose that’s worth keeping in mind,” said Frank reflectively. “If he rings back, give him my sat phone number as well...”
The Codetalkers (The Rebelutionaries Series: Book 2) Page 3