It's Personal

by Philip Bond

  “Phillip, this is going to be hard, yet it has to be said: I want a change. My future isn’t here, there’s a whole new life out there waiting for me to grab it.”

  “What,” reverting to his usual belittling style… “Marriage and a family,” pausing to collect his thoughts… “Aww come on, that’s not you.”

  “No, Phillip,” suddenly, everything becomes easier… “You’ve missed the point; I need the change.”

  Misinterpreting her determination… “Bullshit, I’ve read your email,” belittling her intent… “You’re going to Canberra to pursue the drugs story,” in desperation, a sweetener… “Harry, stay here, you can still pursue your story; there’s no need to leave Sydney, no need to go to Canberra.”

  Determination rules… “The story’s only part of it. Phillip, I want the change.”

  Reality hits, his voice quivers just so… “From me?”

  “Phillip, nothing’s forever, you know that.”

  “Close the door.” she obliges looking back… “Sit down.” His words are unusual; they are not an instruction but a request. During the entire flight to Sydney, Harry rehearsed this moment with different scenarios, none included what happens next… “Harry, I’ve difficulty expressing myself, I mean my true feelings. I,” the glint of a tear forms in his eye. Saved by the ringing telephone… “Brookes.” His voice quivers slightly… “A navy helicopter, where, how many?” His tone reverts to normal… “Confirmed?” Recovering his authoritative demeanour… “Okay, get a crew on to it now.” Looking up to Harry… “A Navy Sea King is down in Bass Strait, with maybe as many as six naval personnel missing. We’ll need to pick this up later, maybe tonight?”

  “No.” She has plans.

  “Harry,” he sounds pleading… “I’ve got to move on this.”

  His story can wait… “Phillip,” this has to be settled now… “I’m not sure what there is to say, other than try to persuade me to stay. I want to be in Canberra as soon as possible.” Reverting to her determined manner… “Phillip, I’m taking the job in Canberra.”

  Torn between the urgency of the story and affairs of his heart, Phillip takes the easy route, waving Harry away. She doesn’t look back otherwise, for the first time, seeing his tears.

  About now, Wellington instigates the necessary transfer network procedure. Now she has to tidy up things here in Sydney. Cocooned within the aluminium tube for the flight to Sydney gave her some time to think. As for her apartment, she plans to lock the door for some days or weeks, giving her more time to determine where her future lies. Of course, whilst in Canberra, she intends to pursue the drugs story to finality, whatever that may be.

  Tonight, she will see Geoff and hopefully Rick also and explain her motives for moving.

  That will be almost as difficult and confronting as this.

  *

  Goodbyes are never easy.

  Late in the day, she’s off to the hospital, catching up with Geoff, suffering the most from the car crash; he requires more days in care, plus some weeks to allow the broken bone to mend. Geoff has other visitors as Harry arrives. Looking to the patient first… “G’day mate,” she reaches over kissing his cheek and then, to the visitors… “Hi Rick, Sarah. Hey there, Rod.”

  Cemented by respect, working relationships mould over time, Geoff came to the team nine months ago so separating isn’t the difficulty; that comes in telling Rick. She won’t allow things to linger instead telling everyone about her pending relocation to Canberra. The next forty-eight minutes are spent reminiscing, laughing and crying until the end of visiting time.

  On leaving, Rick suggests… “How about dinner, there’s a wonderful Italian place with wood-fire pizzas not far. I’ll phone Gai and she can meet us there. What do you say?”

  Ulterior motives drive Rod, he works on convincing Sarah… “Hey yeah terrific idea, Sarah you don’t have other plans, do you?”

  “Ahh no, I was going to read a book.”

  “Great,” the assumptive close… “That’s settled, pizza it is.”

  It’s a roomy Italian restaurant, cosy with a wonderful ambience and not far from the hospital. The booths are large enough to seat six adults comfortably, checked tablecloths and decorative bowls containing garlic and onions.

  Dinner’s delightful, especially the wine. All except Gai work in the industry so television dominates the conversation. Nobody notices the time until Gai checks her watch, prompting Harry to excuse herself for the toilet.

  Returning excitedly… “People,” announce to the booth… “You’ll never guess who’s sitting up front!” no time for guesses… “It’s the personal guy from Newcastle, Daryle Watford with another.”

  Heads in the booth turn, looking towards the front. Rick’s wife looks up… “Those two?”

  Rod wants to only loosen Sarah through alcohol, but not get her drunk… “Yeah,” he fails miserably; she’s already pissed… “There’re cosy as all get-out.”

  Rick looks at Harry… “What does it mean?”

  “Not sure, but we’re going to find out.”

  Sarah cackles… “Maybe they’re having a party.”

  Harry huddles everyone down to review events until another man enters the restaurant sitting with Watford and Wetherill.

  At the end of the booth, Gai can see most of the restaurant’s entrance… “Another bloke joins them.”

  Harry steals a look… “Is he wearing a uniform?”

  No one else dares to move until Gai wants a better look… “I recognise one of them.”

  Rod’s first… “Yeah, I know that face. Isadora Wetherill, she’s the director of that private gallery.”

  “For god’s sake Sarah, sit down, they’ll see us.” Rod pulls her down below the booth.

  Sarah’s luminous, having a good night.

  Ignoring Sarah, Harry looks to Rick… “This is incredible. I smell something and it’s not pizza. Everything’s telling me to follow the omen,” demanding… “Rick, you in?”

  “They’re obviously going to leave separately. I’m guessing they’re in cars and we have only two.”

  “You and Gai follow one, and I’ll take another.”

  “Yeah, but who?”

  “Let us see how they split up. We can forget Neate; it’s the unknowns we follow.”

  “We can’t walk out too soon after they leave otherwise they’ll see us.”

  “Gai, you leave now. Get to your car and bring it out front and wait for Rick.”

  Rummaging in her handbag, Harry tosses her car keys to Rod… “You know my car; it’s parked in the street behind.”

  Rod looks a little sheepish… “I’m over the limit.”

  “Christ,” she’s annoyed… “Thanks Rod.” Grabbing back her keys… “I’ll try the back way. Rick, you nominate who Rod and I follow.” Then she looks sarcastically to the hapless Rod… “It’s not your night, is it? Get me on the cell as soon as you can.” Harry throws four fifty-dollar notes on the table… “That should cover dinner,” bowing her head heading towards the kitchen.

  Rod laments lost opportunities… “So much for my plans.”

  Gai’s ready to move towards the front door but hesitates… “Hey they’re leaving!”

  Rod and Rick look over the booth top as the unidentified uniformed man stands… “Rick, Gai, take the uniform. Rod and I’ll follow Watford and Wetherill.”

  Rick watches as Watford and Wetherill leave.

  With his night ruined, Rod stretches to keep the targets in sight. Pulling out his cellphone. It doesn’t complete the first ring burst… “Rod, speak to me.”

  “They’re possibly parked on the main road. We’ll lose them, get around here quickly. I’ll watch where they go! Pick me up on the other side of the highway.”

  She fires the ignition, accelerating from the car park towards the highway.

  Rod’s anxious, tossing looks back and forth, hoping not to lose sight of the targets, wishing Harry would arrive. Daryle and the Isadora cross the highway, up t
he footpath to round the corner into the side street.

  “Oh no!” Running towards the intersection, seeing the targets cross the street towards a car, parked fifty meters up further. As Isadora climbs into the driver’s seat, Rod’s frantic… “Harry, where are you?”

  Isadora manoeuvres from parking, heading towards the intersection.

  Rod sees a flashing indicator… “Oh for Christ’s sake, Harry will be going the wrong way.”

  Isadora waits for the green light before turning onto the Highway, Harry turns right onto the pacific highway. Rod spots her car… “Harry, not that way! Turn around, damn you!”

  She stops at the lights with Rod running onto the centre of the road, frantically waving his arms… “They’re going the other way!”

  Seeing Rod waving erratically, she U-turns at the traffic lights, causing a number of vehicles to take evasive action.

  Stopping for Rod… “Where are they?”

  “In a black Lexus, somewhere up there. You took too long in getting the car.”

  “Don’t hassle me, Rod, I fell over trying to get to the car. You might’ve done this with the current affairs’ crew but this is new to me.”

  Pointing to the cellphone, she commands redial. Suddenly, the audio changes. “Harry, hi, we’re following the unknown bloke, he’s heading into the city.”

  “Okay, keep on him; let me know what happens.”

  “You got it.”

  Fortunately, Harry’s only had one glass of wine with dinner… “How far in front do you think he is?”

  “I see them turn right up at the next set of lights. Look for a Lexus.”

  “Christ Rod, what’s a Lexus look like?”

  “It’s the same as Phillip’s car. Maybe, we’ve lost them.”

  “No way, not after finding him in the same restaurant. That’s not meant to be.”

  Harry’s cellphone cries for attention… “So,” it’s Rick… “What’s happening?”

  “I guessed correctly, I’m following the uniform. We’re heading through the tunnel towards the southern suburbs.”

  “Good, keep on him. We need to know who he is and if he’s involved with these guys.”

  Excited by the moment… “Up there,” Rod announces… “Turning at the roundabout, up ahead. I know this route; I’ll bet they’re going across the bridge.”

  The Lexus joins the freeway leading up to the Harbour Bridge with the followers in hot pursuit, pushing into the lane, causing other freeway users to swerve or brake dangerously.

  “Oh shit, they’re going into the tunnel; quick, change lanes!”

  Harry drives over ten lane separators, scattering them over the road behind, much to the consternation to those behind. Updating the rear vision mirror, she misses the brake lights on the Commodore in front.

  “Fuck, watch out, you’re gonna hit!”

  “What?” punching the brakes just in time.

  Unfortunately, the driver two cars behind, does not.

  “Where is he now?”

  “There, up in front of you. Slow through the tolls?”

  “Tolls, what tolls?”

  “Harry, the toll.” With her eyes fixed on the Lexus, she steers her car around the vehicles slowing through the tolls. Sounds of grinding metal, a crunch then a ringing bell follow.

  “Oh shit, did I just do what I think I did?”

  “Too late, no time to worry about it now, Harry, follow the Lexus.”

  “Police!”

  “Oh shit, Rod, where?”

  “About eight cars up and just in front of the Lexus, careful now.”

  “Hell Rod, what on earth do you think I’m trying to do?”

  Once out of the tunnel, the traffic thickens, causing Harry greater angst.

  “Watch them, they’re heading onto William Street. Careful, you’re going to get a red light.”

  She accelerates instead of braking… “WATCH OUT, IT’S RED!” Rod’s terrified… “Harry, the car on the right! Oh Christ, I’m dead.”

  Swerving while ignoring sounding car horns, she clears them without altercation, with more good luck than artful driving.

  “Rod, shut up! This is hard enough without your hysterics. Where’re they now?”

  “Still six cars in front.” He searches for the law… “The police car’s gone, can you see it?”

  “Christ, I’m driving; you look for it.”

  “Flashing blue lights?”

  “For god’s sake, Rod, don’t just announce it, tell me where?”

  “Behind. It has to be another. Give it room to pass and watch your speed. You’re almost doing eighty.”

  “Rod, so help me if you don’t stop nagging I’ll castrate you with my nail file. I’m the one who gets booked.”

  “Yeah but passengers die in accidents too.”

  If she’s anything to do with it, he’ll be the only casualty, and soon… “Just tell me where they are, Rod.”

  “They’re in the Kings Cross Tunnel going towards New South Head Road. Oh, and the police turned off into Darlinghurst Road.”

  “I see them now, I’m on him.”

  “Traffic’s thinning; don’t get too close.”

  “Where’s he going?”

  “I hope to live long enough to find out.”

  “Rod, go fuck yourself!” The nail file sits in her handbag, dangerously close.

  “Slow down, we’re coming to Double Bay. Traffic’s unpredictable this time of night around here.”

  “I am watching.”

  “HARRY, that bus’s pulling out into traffic. You’ve got to give way!”

  She veers into the right lane successfully avoiding the bus, the BMW travelling behind brakes to avoid Harry’s lane change, causing the taxi following also to brake heavily but not the three cars immediately following the taxi. Rod turns to look back as headlights flash in all directions and cars crumple in the ensuing melee.

  “Nice one, Harry, I’ll bet Sydney’s panel beaters all chip in to pay your licence renewal.”

  If looks could kill, Rod’s entrails would be Double Bay street decorations… “If I listen to you, Rod, all this would be in vain. We’d have lost them before the bridge. Fortunately, they’re still in front. If you want, I’ll slow down, and you can jump out.”

  “Keep driving, they’re about three cars in front. Unless they’re going for a Sunday drive, they’re not far from wherever they are heading, I’ll see it out. They’re turning into Old South Head Road. Vaucluse or Watsons Bay; my monies on Watsons Bay.”

  Turning right, the Lexus enters a narrow one car wide lane.

  “Harry, drive on past and stop.”

  Not waiting for the car to stop, Rod has the door open and his shoe scraps the bitumen, ready to follow on foot. He sprints.

  Harry looks expectantly.

  Finally, she sees him hurrying back towards the car.

  Pulling open the door… “They’ve entered a garage just up the lane. I think it’s at the back of that house there.”

  He’s pointing to the renovated two-story white brick house just up the road.

  “I’ll move the car back to get a better look at what goes on. That light downstairs there wasn’t on when we arrived.”

  “You say Watford lives in Newcastle, so this must be the Wetherill’s house, it’s the area for someone like her. Wonder what they are doing?”

  “Night cap?”

  Again, Harry’s cellphone demands attention… “Rick, what’s the latest?”

  “We are heading towards the airport,” its Gai… “How’re you guys going.”

  Rod jumps in… “We’re at Watsons Bay.”

  “Bad luck, Rod.” Gai doesn’t disguise the sarcasm… “Speak to you later. Bye.”

  “Yeah, bye.” Rod’s dejected.

  The pair sit quietly for some minutes until a light comes on upstairs in the house.

  “Bedroom?”

  “Possibly.” The question breaks the silence. Harry opens the Q&A … “Just for interest,
why aren’t you on camera yet?”

  “I asked the producer.”

  “Who’s that, Judy McTier?”

  “Yes. I asked, she’s delaying till next season. Wants me to get more experience with question framing and researching then; during the off-season next year, I’m to do some furry animal spots.”

  “Nothing has changed, same way I started.”

  Time passes slowly as the chatter wains. The last light in the house goes out… “Rod.” Harry’s tired also… “You live near the station at Wollstonecraft, right?”

  On missing the opportunity for Sarah, Rod decides to substitute… “Yes, do you want to come up for a coffee?”

  “No, Rod. It’s late, I’m tired and heading off for Canberra tomorrow.”

  It’s a silent journey to Rod’s house.

  Pulling into the kerb… “Thanks mate. I couldn’t follow the dynamic duo without your help.”

  Rod’s one last hurrah… “How about that coffee, you know I think you’re a fantastic person and I’d like to get to know you better.”

  “Thanks, Rod, I need sleep. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Rod’s now really dejected.

  In powering off, Harry decides to call Rick; he’s puffing… “Harry, I’m just heading back to the car. He parks in an area restricted for airport personnel. I follow him to a door with a sign, restricted area – customs personnel only. Fixed the station ID to my pocket, and after walking some distance, confront a Customs Officer. Cutting to the chase, I find out the unknown guy is Malcolm Lieu also with the Customs Service.”

  Harry’s tired… “Where are you?”

  “I’m almost back to my car in the airport car park.”

  “Rick, what do you make of it all?”

  “I reckon drugs are coming in through the airport.”

  “Me too,” offers Rick.

  Quiet so far, Gai decides to involve herself in proceedings… “Harry, shouldn’t we tell someone?”

  Hell no… “Up to this point, the police have everything we have. All we’re discussing is supposition. There’s no evidence and as yet, certainly no proof of a conspiracy.”

  "Let’s sit on it. I’m off to Canberra tomorrow to dig into the ringleaders.

  He’s disappointed… “We need to watch the timing, Harry.”