The Tesla Legacy

by Robert G. Barrett

  Agent Moharic stared at the shadowy figures in the white Commodore and felt a sudden surge of adrenalin in his stomach. ‘Okay. Settle down, guys. I’ll still park the car as planned. Then we’ll walk over, slow and careful like, and do them.’

  Agent Coleborne grinned at the two other agents. ‘Who’d have thought it’d be this easy?’

  Agent Moharic cut the engine and turned off the lights. ‘Okay, guys. Take out your weapons. Let’s go.’

  The two ASIO agents were staring through the windscreen at the Jeep Cherokee when the casually dressed NSA agents got out and advanced towards them. Officer Cozens leant forward over the steering wheel not sure if he was seeing things.

  ‘Kerrie,’ said Officer Cozens urgently. ‘I think they’re all armed.’

  ‘I just bloody noticed, Craig,’ replied Officer Ryman. ‘What the hell are they doing?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ answered Craig. ‘But something’s not right. Get out of the car. Quick.’

  The two ASIO officers exited their vehicle, unholstered their Glocks, and took up a defensive position behind the two open front doors. The three NSA agents were a little surprised at this. But not noticing the ASIO officers’ weapons, it didn’t worry them. Suddenly Agent Coleborne heard a noise and, turning to his right, spotted Mick and Jesse seated behind the bushes.

  ‘Hey, Floyd,’ he whispered earnestly. ‘There’s someone there.’

  ‘Where?’ replied Agent Moharic.

  ‘Over there,’ said Agent Coleborne. ‘Behind those bushes. Jesus! It’s them. It’s Vincent and his girl.’

  ‘Vincent?’ quizzed Agent Moharic. ‘It can’t be. They’re sitting in that car over there.’

  ‘Floyd. I got A1 night vision,’ Agent Coleborne assured Agent Moharic. ‘I’m telling you it’s them.’

  But it was too late. Agent Niland was in a hurry to get the job done and flashed a sinister smile at Officer Cozens from barely metres away.

  ‘Nothing personal, Vincent,’ he said. ‘It’s just the way it has to be. Mate.’

  Agent Niland cupped his .45 and fired two quick shots at Officer Cozens, shattering his window. Officer Cozens snatched a quick, angry glance at Officer Ryman as the heavy calibre bullets showered him with glass and thumped into the utility behind him.

  ‘Kerrie,’ he shouted. ‘These dills are off their heads. Return fire.’

  Officer Cozens fired three quick shots at Agent Niland. The first one smashed the agent’s collarbone and tore through his shoulder. The other two hit him in the chest. His eyes bulging with disbelief, Agent Niland gasped, then dropped his weapon and collapsed to his knees. A second later, he slumped face forward, dead in the car park. From out the side of her door, Officer Ryman fired two shots hitting Agent Coleborne in the right side of his body and smashing the agent’s ribs.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Floyd!’ howled Agent Coleborne, clutching his shattered, bloody side. ‘I’m hit. So’s Steve. What’s…?’

  Agent Moharic was as worried and confused as his partner. This was the last thing they’d expected to happen. He was about to yell something at Agent Coleborne when another bullet from Officer Ryman ripped through one side of his throat and a bullet from Officer Cozens hit him in the leg.

  ‘Shit! Something’s wrong,’ yelled Agent Moharic as blood began running over his jacket and down his leg. He fired two wild shots at the Commodore then turned to Agent Coleborne. ‘Help me with Steve. And let’s get the hell out of here.’

  Agent Coleborne could feel the warm sticky blood oozing through his fingers. ‘Ohh Jesus!’ he moaned. ‘My ribs.’

  With more bullets from the ASIO officers zipping past them, the two NSA agents grabbed Agent Niland by the arms and dragged him back to the Cherokee. Agent Moharic opened the back door and they bundled him inside. Agent Coleborne gave the door a quick push and they both climbed painfully in the front.

  With the keys still in the ignition, Agent Moharic swiftly started the engine, but clumsily gunned the big car too far out from the wall. He shoved the gear lever into reverse and as he swung the Jeep round, the back door flew open and a briefcase fell out, scattering its contents across the car park. Grunting with pain, Agent Coleborne reached over and slammed the door shut as Agent Moharic shoved the Cherokee into drive. Fighting back dizziness, Agent Moharic sucked as much air as he could down his ripped throat, then hit the accelerator and roared out of the car park towards Muswellbrook.

  Once the Cherokee was gone and the smoke had cleared, the two ASIO officers stood up behind the doors of the Commodore, lowered their weapons and turned to each other, wide-eyed.

  ‘What the bloody hell was that all about?’ said Officer Cozens.

  Officer Ryman shook her head. ‘I’m buggered if I know, Craig. I know one thing though, we’ve got to keep this quiet.’

  ‘You can say that again.’ While the band thumped on inside, Officer Cozens quickly ran his gaze round the car park, not noticing Mick and Jesse crouched behind the bushes. ‘We’re lucky,’ he said. ‘There’s no one around. And no one’s heard anything either.’ He turned to Officer Ryman. ‘You were right earlier, too, Kerrie. They were onto us.’

  ‘Yes. But why would they want to kill us like that? Even the dopey bloody NSA has certain guidelines.’

  ‘It’s got me beat,’ said Officer Cozens, holstering his weapon. ‘Anyway. We’d better get after them.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Kerrie holstered her weapon also. ‘Get the car. I’ll grab the gun and the briefcase.’

  Officer Cozens shook his head. ‘Jesus! Hasn’t this turned out a nice shit fight.’

  Officer Ryman picked up the .45, removed the clip and when Officer Cozens pulled up alongside her in the Commodore, put it in the back with the briefcase. She had a last look around then got in next to Craig and they took off in pursuit of the Jeep Cherokee.

  Hiding behind the bushes Mick and Jesse couldn’t believe what they’d just seen. When the second car disappeared out of the car park they turned to each other, slack-jawed.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Mick asked Jesse, blankly.

  ‘See it?’ replied Jesse. ‘Of course I saw it. It was like something out of a bloody Clint Eastwood movie.’

  ‘It must have been a drug deal gone wrong,’ said Mick.

  ‘I don’t know what it was,’ replied Jesse. ‘But that woman missed something from the briefcase. It landed in those bushes over there.’ Jesse stood up and walked over to where she indicated. She had a quick look on the ground then came back carrying a shiny black object. ‘It’s some kind of phone,’ she said.

  ‘Phone? Hey, keep it,’ said Mick. ‘Maybe we can use it.’

  ‘Yes. I’ll put it in my bag.’ Jesse placed the phone in her leather bag then sat back down next to Mick. ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Half all right,’ replied Mick. ‘That sure sobered me up.’

  ‘All right. We’ll go back inside.’ Jesse turned seriously to Mick. ‘Mick. We didn’t see anything that happened out here tonight. Okay?’

  ‘Ohh mate. I’m with you there,’ replied Mick. ‘That was too heavy for me.’

  ‘Me too.’ Jesse stood up. ‘All right. Come on. And remember, not a word.’

  Mick shook his head. ‘No. Not a word.’

  Agent Moharic was weakening and having trouble controlling the Cherokee along the highway out of Scone. His jacket was soaked with blood and more was running over his shoe and onto the pedals. Alongside him, Agent Coleborne’s face was twisted with pain as he clutched his ribs. Blood was trickling around his fingers and he could feel the pieces of jagged bone through the holes in his shirt.

  ‘Orrin,’ wheezed Agent Moharic, spitting blood as he tried to talk. ‘Can you drive? I need a doctor. I’m starting to black out.’

  ‘Oh Christ, Floyd! My guts are all tore up,’ winced Agent Coleborne. ‘I can hardly breathe. Let alone drive a car.’

  Agent Moharic turned to his partner. ‘I’m gonna have to pull over, buddy. I can’t keep going.’

>   ‘That’s okay, Floyd,’ replied Agent Coleborne. ‘Shit! What went wrong? That was a complete cock-up.’

  ‘I know,’ groaned Agent Moharic. ‘Christ! It looks like Steve’s dead, too.’

  Officers Cozens and Ryman caught up with the Cherokee five kilometres out of Scone. They followed the big vehicle as it wobbled around before it slowed down and finally pulled over.

  ‘They’re stopping.’ Officer Cozens brought the Commodore to a stop a short distance behind the Cherokee. ‘I think one’s dead,’ he told Kerrie. ‘I’m certain the other two are both wounded.’

  ‘I hit one for sure,’ said Officer Ryman.

  ‘Okay. Let’s prop here for a minute and see what they do.’ Officer Cozens left the motor running and they waited. ‘There’s no movement,’ he said eventually.

  Officer Ryman took her gun out. ‘Okay. Let’s go have a look, Craig. But be careful. I still don’t trust these ratbags.’

  ‘No.’ Leaving the lights on, Officer Cozens switched the motor off and took out his Glock. ‘Come on, Kerrie. Nice and slow.’

  With the headlights behind them and their weapons cupped, the two ASIO officers cautiously approached the Jeep Cherokee. Officer Cozens gave his partner the nod to go round the passenger side as he stepped up to Agent Moharic, slumped against the steering wheel.

  ‘Throw out your weapons and exit the vehicle,’ he ordered. ‘Do it now. And do it very slowly.’

  ‘All right, Vincent,’ gasped Agent Moharic. ‘We’re getting out. I suppose you’re gonna shoot us in cold blood. Well, do it you sonofabitch. I don’t give a damn.’

  Agent Moharic’s .45 came out the window and a few seconds later the door opened. One hand in the air and the other holding his throat, he dragged himself out from behind the wheel and leant against the side of the Cherokee. Agent Coleborne’s .45 sailed out the other window then the door opened and he came out clutching his ribs.

  ‘You’re lucky, Vincent,’ sneered Agent Moharic, looking down the barrel of Officer Cozens’ levelled Glock. ‘You got the jump on us.’

  ‘Vincent?’ said Officer Cozens.

  ‘Yeah. We know who you are. And your girlfriend.’

  ‘I’m Officer Craig Cozens and that’s Officer Kerrie Ryman. We’re with ASIO.’

  ‘ASIO?’

  ‘Yeah. We know who you blokes are. Who’s bloody Vincent?’

  Agent Moharic’s pain-racked face dropped. ‘You’re not Vincent?’

  ‘No. I just told you that, you dopey Yank prick.’

  ‘Oh shit!’ The crestfallen NSA agent coughed up a little spray of blood. ‘I got nothing more to say,’ he gasped. ‘Get me a doctor.’

  ‘Hey Kerrie,’ Officer Cozens called out over the top of the car. ‘How’s the other one?’

  Still holding her weapon rock steady, Officer Ryman looked at Agent Coleborne clutching his shattered ribs. ‘Pretty rooted, by the looks of things. The one in the back’s dead.’

  ‘Okay, watch them. I’m going to ring Blessing.’ Officer Cozens left his partner to guard the NSA agents and took out his cellphone. It didn’t take him long to dial. ‘Boss. It’s Craig.’

  ‘You’re ringing late,’ replied Officer Blessing.

  ‘Boss. We’ve got a situation here. A bad one. We’re going to need a medivac. Doctors. And a cleaner.’

  ‘Keep talking, Craig. I’ll grab the other phone.’

  Back inside the heat and smoke of The Greater Scone, Mick lasted another three bourbons and four more dances before his head started spinning again. Jesse had stopped drinking and when they left the dancefloor, she guided him back to where they’d been standing near the poker machines.

  ‘Here, Tiger,’ she said. ‘Finish my glass of soda water. Then I’m taking you home.’

  Mick nodded slowly. ‘I think that’s a very…very good idea.’

  ‘You’re an absolute disgrace. You know that don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ smiled Mick. ‘But shit, I’ve had a good time.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Jesse. ‘Did I stop you?’

  ‘No. You never do. Never do.’

  ‘Of course not. Because you’d beat me cruelly if I ever tried.’

  ‘That’s exactly right,’ said Mick.

  ‘Yeah. Pig’s arse. Come on, light of my life. We’re out of here.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Rather than go back into the car park, Jesse steered Mick through the crowd and out towards the beer garden. As they went past the bar, Rhedyn called out.

  ‘Did you have a good time?’

  ‘It was great,’ said Jesse. ‘Thanks. We’ll see you again.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what, your boyfriend can dance.’

  ‘Yeah,’ smiled Jesse. ‘Now I’ve got to hope he can walk.’

  With the band still blazing away through its last set, Jesse steered a smiling Mick through all his new-found friends and out into the beer garden, then down the corridor into the street. The night air hit Mick in the face, he took in several deep breaths and regained some of his composure. Past the old picture theatre he started singing, and on the other side of the roundabout he turned to Jesse and grinned broadly.

  ‘I love you, Jesse Osbourne. I hope you realise that,’ he said.

  ‘And I love you too, Mick Vincent,’ replied Jesse. She held Mick’s arm tightly. ‘You’re handsome. You’re a fantastic lover. And you’re dynamite on the dancefloor.’

  Mick stopped. ‘Am I really a fantastic lover?’ he asked.

  Jesse looked stolidly at Mick. ‘You are a good dancer.’

  Mick had stopped singing and was just mumbling happily and incoherently when Jesse opened the motel door and eased him inside. She switched on the lights then sat Mick on the bed and got him a glass of water and two Panadeine.

  ‘Here, Mick. Take these and drink this. It’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘Thanks, Oz,’ said Mick. ‘Shit! I love you.’

  ‘Good. Get it tattooed on your chest.’

  ‘I will. And that’s a promise.’

  ‘Can you get undressed?’

  ‘What?’ Mick drew away. ‘Keep your hands off me, woman,’ he said. ‘How do I know where you’ve been?’

  Mick swallowed the tablets and drank the water while Jesse got undressed and put on a clean T-shirt. With Jesse keeping an eye on him, Mick slowly but surely stripped down to his T-shirt and jox, then went to the bathroom. While he was in there, Jesse got herself a glass of water then took the phone she’d found in the car park out of her bag and examined it. It was bigger and thicker than a normal mobile phone, with different buttons and no brand name or numbers. There was a moulded aerial on the left and two buttons under the aerial. Mick came out of the bathroom and looked balefully at Jesse.

  ‘Jesse, my sweet love,’ he mumbled. ‘I am going straight to bed. I’m pissed. I’m sorry.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Jesse. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’ Mick got under the blankets as Jesse continued to examine the phone. ‘Hey, Mick,’ she said.

  ‘Ummrrrhh.’

  ‘This isn’t a phone. You know what it is? It’s a GPS transceiver. A global positioning satellite device.’

  ‘Ummrrhh.’

  ‘They were probably using it to fly in dope.’ Jesse examined the GPS transceiver for a short while and thought about switching it on. She changed her mind and put it back in her bag.

  Jesse finished her glass of water, cleaned her teeth then turned the lights off and climbed into bed next to Mick. She pushed her head into the pillows then smiled and put her arm around him. He was an awful drunk. But he was a happy drunk and people liked him wherever he went. And he only got drunk when he was with her. Plus he genuinely loved her. Jesse Osbourne knew she was a lucky woman.

  Jesse closed her eyes and started thinking about the night. It had been a lot of fun. But the gunfight? That was terrifying. She’d imagined Scone would be a quiet town, with nothing much going on except breeding and racing horses. And of course the odd doomsday machine buried in
the hills.

  Jesse’s eyes suddenly widened in the darkness. ‘Doomsday machine!’ she said out loud.

  Jesse sat bolt upright, then got out of bed and switched the light on next to the table. She took the old diary out of her travel bag, opened it and started flicking through the pages till she found the ones she was looking for. She examined them closely and her face spread into a broad grin.

  ‘Klaus Slate, you sneaky, cunning old bastard.’ Jesse closed the diary and turned towards the window. ‘Nice try old fellah,’ she smiled, ‘but you got to get up early in the morning to fool little Ossie.’

  Jesse put the diary back in her bag, turned off the light and got back into bed. Mick was snoring softly. Nevertheless, Jesse gave him a nudge in the back.

  ‘Hey, Mick. Are you asleep?’ This time, there was absolutely no reply. ‘Good,’ smiled Jesse. ‘Get all the sleep you can. And try not to wake up with too much of a hangover. Because tomorrow we’re going back up Burning Mountain.’

  Jesse woke up around seven-thirty the next morning. Mick was still sleeping blissfully, so she left him while she had a shower before changing into her jeans and a brown Goodies T-shirt. She rang room service and ordered toasted ham sandwiches and a large pot of coffee. And could they make the coffee strong? Not a problem, madam. Jesse poured herself a glass of cold water then drew back the window curtain and checked out the day. It was delightful: sunny and warm with a light breeze smearing a few stringy clouds across an electric blue sky. A perfect day for a brisk walk in the bush. Jesse smiled. She finished her glass of water then knelt on the bed and gave Mick a shake.

  ‘Come on, dreamboat. Time to rise and shine.’

  ‘Urrrhnnnhh?’

  ‘Come on,’ said Jesse, shaking Mick some more. ‘Upsa daisy. That’s the boy.’

  ‘Ohhhh. Ohh shit!’ Mick rolled over and blinked at Jesse through bloodshot eyes.

  ‘How are you feeling this morning, darling?’

  ‘Horrible,’ Mick replied thickly.

  ‘You got a hangover?’

  ‘Ohh. What do you reckon?’

  ‘I’ve ordered some toasted sandwiches and coffee.’

  ‘The coffee sounds all right.’ Mick stared mournfully at Jesse. ‘How was I last night? Did I behave myself?’