The Tesla Legacy

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘You’re a bit early,’ said the woman. ‘The rooms aren’t ready till ten-thirty.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Mick. ‘I can go and have some breakfast and come back.’

  ‘You’re lucky too,’ said the woman, thumbing through a ledger. ‘We’ve got two groups of reps staying here at the moment. And there’s only one room left. A single with a double bed. Will that do?’

  Mick gave the woman a smile. ‘Admirably.’

  ‘Good. So how will you be paying, Mr…?’

  ‘Vincent,’ said Mick, taking out his wallet. ‘Visa, credit.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Vincent.’

  The woman took Mick’s credit card details and gave him the key to room Number Five, just down on the left. She pointed out the swimming pool behind his room and the restaurant where room service was available if required. Mick said he’d probably want to stay Sunday, too. The woman said that was okay, just let her know the night before and he could leave his car outside his room till he came back. Mick took the key, thanked the woman, then drove the short distance down to the unit and parked the old Commodore.

  Feeling like a stroll, Mick locked the car, picked up his backpack then headed towards Kelly Street and joined the other Saturday morning shoppers. At a newsagency near the roundabout, he got the Saturday papers and walked on to the cafe where he’d bought Jesse her latte. The same girl came to the counter; Mick ordered a toasted sandwich, a pot of tea and a croissant then took a number, found a table and settled back with the papers while he waited for his meal.

  Jesse wasn’t hungry when she walked into the local library, but she was looking forward to her coffee. She stopped for a moment to check out the surroundings before she went across to the desk. The library wasn’t as big as Muswellbrook’s, and the furnishings had seen better days. But it was bright and airy with posters on the walls and plenty of books, and like the town, had a nice feel about it. Several people were sitting around reading and a pleasant-faced woman in her forties with swept-up greying hair, wearing jeans and a loose-fitting blue top, was behind the counter. The woman sensed Jesse meant business when the young bookshop owner walked over to the desk and gave her a knowing smile.

  ‘Hello,’ said the woman. ‘How can I help you?’

  Jesse returned the woman’s smile. ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘Could you tell me where all your reference books are, please?’

  ‘Just round there to the right,’ pointed the woman. ‘Would you like me to show you?’

  ‘No. That’s all right.’

  ‘If you need any help, just give me a call.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Jesse walked round and placed her bag on a wooden table with ‘SG loves HT’ carved into a heart on it. She stepped over to the reference section, ran her eye over the titles and returned to the table with a stack of books, including Scone and Upper Hunter Historical Society Journal; Pioneers of a Great Valley; The Wingen Maid and the Wonnarua People. Jesse opened her coffee and started with The Hunters End: 1829–1979.

  Agent Moharic was seated in the Jeep Cherokee gripping the steering wheel and slowly butting his head against it in frustration. Earlier, Agent Niland had walked all the way to the cop holding back the line of traffic only to come back and report there was no sign of Mick or Jesse.

  ‘They got to be shittin’ me,’ Agent Moharic fumed at Agent Coleborne. ‘How long have we been sitting here now?’

  ‘It’s been a while, Floyd,’ replied Agent Coleborne.

  ‘And you say Vincent and his girl aren’t amongst all those cars, Steve?’

  ‘Nope,’ replied Agent Niland. ‘They must have snuck through.’

  ‘Christ! They could be anywhere by now,’ cursed Agent Moharic.

  ‘What’s the next town?’ asked Agent Niland.

  Agent Moharic glanced at the map. ‘Scone.’

  ‘I reckon they could be headed there,’ said Agent Niland.

  ‘Yeah? Why’s that, Steve?’ asked Agent Moharic.

  ‘Well. They started off in Muswellbrook. The next town is Scone. And the next one after that I believe is Tamworth, which is a fair ways from here. I feel whatever it is they’re looking for is in this general area. And instinct tells me that’s the next town, Scone. Hey,’ shrugged Agent Niland, ‘I could be wrong. But I just got a feeling. That’s all.’

  ‘I tend to agree with Steve, Floyd,’ said Agent Coleborne. ‘I don’t know why they changed vehicles. But I do believe they’re not spreading themselves too far. And Scone makes sense.’

  Agent Moharic thought for a moment. ‘Yeah. You could be right, guys,’ he nodded. ‘Okay. Scone it is. We’ll give the joint a good going over.’

  Back in the ASIO Commodore, Craig had rung Officer Blessing to inform him of their situation. Now Officers Ryman and Cozens had a mini draughtboard between them and Kerrie looked to have another game won already.

  ‘So what do you think their story is now, Craig?’ Kerrie asked.

  ‘Well,’ replied Officer Cozens, moving a white piece. ‘I agree with you the NSA are looking for someone. That someone has left Muswellbrook this morning. But where they’re going we haven’t got a clue.’

  ‘No. And it wouldn’t surprise me if they slipped through this roadblock and stuffed up the Mormons’ plans.’

  ‘They could have,’ nodded Craig. ‘But whatever the Men in Black are up to, the only thing we can do is stay on their arse the same as before.’

  ‘Only now we got a bug.’ Kerrie smiled and moved a black. ‘Do you think they’ll stop at Scone?’

  ‘They might. I hope they do. It’ll make things easier for us.’ Craig moved a white. ‘One thing I do know, Kerrie. Whatever those wallys are up to, they’re not carrying all those guns to hunt rabbits.’

  ‘No. I’ve been thinking about that myself.’ Kerrie took two of Craig’s whites. ‘Crown me, will you.’

  ‘Shit! How did you do that?’

  Mick enjoyed his long breakfast with the papers and would have sat there all morning, but after one last cup of tea he put the papers in his backpack then walked back to the motel and got their bags out of the car.

  The air-conditioned room was very good. Mixed pastel colours on the walls, a TV and a table faced a comfortable double bed, and a window looked out at the pool. After last night, this should bring the sunshine back to sweet Ossie’s face, smiled Mick as he put their bags on the luggage stand. The bathroom behind him was bright and spotlessly clean; Mick unpacked his clothes and had a shower.

  The thinnest of smiles appeared briefly on Agent Moharic’s face when he heard the driver in front start his engine. He peered out the window and saw that the cattle had all been moved and the police were starting to let the traffic through.

  ‘Looks like they’re moving, Floyd,’ said Agent Niland.

  ‘About goddamn time,’ cursed Agent Moharic, starting the engine.

  ‘So where do you want to start when we get to Scone?’ asked Agent Coleborne.

  Agent Moharic began slowly moving along with the traffic. ‘Well,’ he replied, ‘assuming Vincent and his girl are there, I suggest we check out all the motels and hotels first. See if that white vehicle’s parked in front.’

  ‘Bad luck I never got the number plate,’ said Agent Niland.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ nodded Agent Moharic. ‘But if we find their vehicle, we keep an eye on the situation. Wait till it gets dark. Then find a nice quiet place, pull them over and take them out. I have to agree with Zimmer that it’s not such a good idea to do it during the day.’

  ‘Yeah. All we need is some concerned citizen to get our number plate,’ said Agent Coleborne.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Agent Moharic. ‘But hey, if anybody’s got a better idea, I’m open.’

  ‘No. I’m fine with that,’ said Agent Niland.

  ‘We may as well check into a motel ourselves,’ said Agent Coleborne. ‘That way, at least we got a base.’

  ‘Yeah. And I’ll call Zimmer,’ said Agent Moharic.

&nbs
p; Seated in the ASIO Commodore, Officer Ryman was flogging Craig at draughts and keen to beat him again when the sound of engines starting filled the air. Officer Cozens poked his head out the window.

  ‘They’re moving,’ he said.

  ‘Bugger it,’ Kerrie cursed good-naturedly. ‘I was just getting into my stride.’

  ‘Get out,’ said Officer Cozens, starting the car as Officer Ryman put the draughtboard away. ‘I was letting you win so you wouldn’t get the shits, that’s all.’

  The two ASIO officers fell in with the traffic and continued following the away team.

  Jesse was speed reading in the library and Mick was lying back on the bed reading the papers when the NSA away team arrived in Scone with the two ASIO officers following a short distance behind. Like Jesse, the first thing Agent Moharic noticed was the Tudor Motel on the left.

  ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I’m gonna pull into that motel and take a quick look. You never know. He might be in there.’

  ‘It looks pretty good,’ said Agent Coleborne. ‘How about I see if they got any rooms while we’re there?’

  ‘Okay.’ Agent Moharic swung the Jeep Cherokee around and pulled up in the driveway just outside the office. He peered down the courtyard and gave a double blink. ‘Are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?’

  ‘Yeah,’ nodded Agent Coleborne. ‘There must be a dozen of those white Commodores parked down there.’

  ‘And they’re all splattered with mud,’ added Agent Niland.

  ‘Sonofabitch!’ cursed Agent Moharic. ‘What next? Okay Orrin. Go see if they got any rooms.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Shit! I wonder if one of those cars is Vincent’s?’ muttered Agent Moharic.

  Agent Coleborne got out of the Cherokee and walked over to the office. He was back a minute later shaking his head.

  ‘They’re fully booked,’ he said, getting back in the car. ‘But the woman believes there could be room at the Halscott. About a click further down, on the other side of the railway line.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s go there and check in. Then we’ll start combing this hick town for Vincent.’

  Agent Moharic drove down and did a U-turn in the parking area outside Mick’s room. The movement of the big car lightly disturbed the roses. But didn’t in any way disturb Mick’s reading.

  Officer Cozens was concentrating on a car in front of him towing a caravan and Officer Ryman was watching both the scanner and the black Cherokee when she noticed the Cherokee pull into the Tudor Motel.

  ‘Craig,’ she said, pointing to the Tudor. ‘They just pulled into that motel.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Officer Cozens. ‘I’ll stop down here and see what happens.’

  Craig pulled over, took his sunglasses off and stared out the rear window while Kerrie kept her eye on the scanner.

  ‘They’re moving already, Craig,’ she said. ‘And they’re coming this way.’

  ‘They might have been trying to get a room,’ said Craig. ‘Okay. Act nonchalant, Kerrie, and we’ll let them get back in front of us.’

  Agent Coleborne was absently peering out the open passenger-side window when suddenly he screwed his face up and excitedly hit Agent Moharic on the arm.

  ‘Floyd. Slow down,’ said Agent Coleborne. ‘Either I’m going nuts, or we just passed Vincent and his girl.’

  ‘Vincent?’ said Agent Niland. ‘Where?’

  ‘Sitting in that white Commodore on the side of the road behind us.’

  Agent Moharic glanced in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Shit! You could be right, Orrin. Hey! They’re driving off. Steve, turn around easy and get the number of that Commodore.’

  ‘Can do.’ Agent Niland turned around, taking a notebook and biro from his pocket.

  ‘You got it?’ asked Agent Moharic.

  ‘That’s an affirmative, Floyd.’ Agent Niland kept peering out the rear window. ‘They’re still behind us,’ he said. ‘And it’s definitely them. She’s sitting in the front in a purple T-shirt.’ He turned to Agent Moharic. ‘So what do you suggest we do?’

  Agent Moharic thought quickly. ‘Okay. If they’re still hanging around Scone, they got to be staying somewhere. We’ll drive up to this Halscott Motel. Steve, you book the rooms. I’ll let Vincent get in front of us. And Orrin and I will tail him.’

  ‘Okay,’ nodded Agent Niland.

  ‘Thing is,’ Agent Moharic smiled at him, ‘now we got his number plate.’

  ‘Well I’ll be a sonofabitch,’ said Agent Coleborne, slapping his thigh. ‘I can’t believe our luck finding him that fast.’

  ‘Luck’s got nothing to do with it, Elder Bozidar,’ smiled Agent Niland. ‘We’re functionaries of sweet Lord Jesus and he’s looking over us.’

  ‘Hallelujah to that, Elder Caleb,’ said Agent Coleborne.

  Keeping a respectable distance behind the NSA away team, Officer Cozens followed the Cherokee along Kelly Street while Officer Ryman kept her eye on the scanner.

  ‘They’ve got to be looking for somewhere to stay,’ said Craig. ‘When they find something, we’ll get a place ourselves.’

  Kerrie indicated behind them. ‘I noticed a sign coming through that roundabout pointing to the Waverley Country Inn. It might be all right.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll have a look.’

  With all three agents surreptitiously watching the white Commodore, Agent Moharic bumped over the railway line and found the Halscott sitting on the main road further along on the left. It was brown and white with a yellow roof and yellow balustrades that squared off a neat lawn edged with flowers. A driveway led up to an office on the right and a neon sign above read HALSCOTT FAMILY INN, WELCOME. Agent Moharic swung the Cherokee in front of the driveway and the agents watched as the white Commodore went past. They kept watching and couldn’t believe their luck again when it did a U-turn and pulled up in front of a hardware and garden centre further on.

  ‘They’ve stopped just down the road,’ said Agent Moharic.

  ‘Yeah. They’re not moving. I wonder what they’re up to?’ said Agent Coleborne.

  ‘Having another argument,’ suggested Agent Niland.

  ‘Who knows,’ replied Agent Moharic. ‘But it makes things easier for us. Okay, Steve. Go see if they’ve got any rooms.’

  ‘I’m on it.’ Agent Niland got out and walked across to the office. He was back shortly and walked round to the driver’s side with a smile on his face. ‘They got two. A double and a single. You want to take the single, Floyd? I’ll bunk with Orrin.’

  ‘You good with that, Orrin?’ asked Agent Moharic.

  ‘That’s fine by me.’

  ‘Okay. Steve, can you take the bags from the back. We’ll give Vincent a minute to move off. And we’ll be back when we have his status.’

  ‘No problem.’

  Agent Niland opened the Cherokee’s rear door and took the bags into the office. He wasn’t gone long before the Commodore drove off down Kelly Street.

  ‘They’re moving, Floyd,’ said Agent Coleborne.

  ‘Yeah. And I’m right on their ass,’ replied Agent Moharic.

  Agent Moharic backed out of the driveway, then swung a wild U-turn into Kelly Street that made Agent Coleborne’s hair stand on end, and started following the Commodore back down the road.

  ‘One of them just took their bags into the office,’ said Kerrie.

  ‘Yeah. They’re definitely booking in. Okay. Let’s see if there’s room at the Waverley.’ Officer Cozens hit the blinker and drove off.

  Officer Ryman had another look at the scanner. ‘Hey Craig. They’re moving again. They’re coming this way.’

  Officer Cozens picked it up in the rear-vision mirror. ‘At a guess, I’d say the first Mormon’s organising the rooms while the others are getting some takeaway food.’ He turned to his partner. ‘Doesn’t matter. We know where they’re staying.’

  With the Cherokee a discreet distance behind them, Officer Cozens motored on down Kelly Street and turned left at the roundabout. The shiny white Waverley
Country Inn was past the council chambers and court house, not far from a police station swarming with uniformed officers. Timber built, with vines and creepers growing over the front, the motel gave the resemblance of a big, friendly boarding house. A driveway divided the office on the left from a French-windowed restaurant on the right, and a sign above the office said WAVERLEY COUNTRY INN. An Australian flag on the red tiled roof languidly caught the breeze. Officer Cozens swung the Commodore into the driveway and waited while Officer Ryman went to the office. She soon returned with a pleased look on her face.

  ‘No worries, Craig,’ she said. ‘There’s two adjoining rooms down the back, near the pool.’

  ‘Yeah, good,’ Officer Cozens replied quietly. ‘Kerrie. Don’t look, but the Mormons are coming down the street.’

  ‘What? Okay, pop the boot, Craig. I’ll busy myself getting the bags out.’

  While Officer Ryman took the bags from the boot and avoided eye contact with the Cherokee, Officer Cozens watched it in the rear-vision mirror. The big black four wheel drive continued on past the motel then did a U-turn and drove back towards the roundabout. Officer Ryman left the bags and came round to the passenger-side window.

  ‘What do you think that was all about, Craig?’ she asked. ‘You don’t think they’re onto us, do you?’

  ‘They didn’t even notice us, Kerrie.’ Craig gave his partner a smile. ‘Remember I said they’re out buying takeaway.’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Kerrie.

  ‘They’re Yanks. They’re looking for a McDonald’s.’

  Kerrie gestured. ‘Now why I didn’t I think of that?’

  Agent Moharic swung the Cherokee right at the roundabout and headed for the motel. One side of his face registered satisfaction, the other registered concern.

  ‘Well, at least we know where they’re staying,’ said Agent Coleborne.

  ‘Yeah. That’s the good news,’ grunted Agent Moharic. ‘The bad news is they’re right next to the local cops. And the sonsofbitches are everywhere.’

  ‘So I noticed. That sure don’t help things,’ said Agent Coleborne.