“What have you done, sir?” The major’s face was blood red, his left eye twitching.
“Manners, Major!”
He shut his eyes. “Apologies, sir.”
Denny couldn’t help but notice the sweat dripping down the major’s cheeks. The man seemed unusually anxious. Perhaps he knew more than he was saying. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d experienced insubordination. He poured himself another whiskey and continued.
“Well as you know, Professor Hart and Steve Winslow are following this thing up in Australia, so I had my suspicions that if the leak was still active, Ms. Fuller would be certain to follow.”
He gulped down half the glass. The sweat on the major’s face was now dribbling down onto his uniform shirt, staining it ever so slightly.
“I had airport security, including immi alerted, and I was right. I’ve just had word that an irate reporter is currently threatening to sue the entire customs and immigration department in Sydney. Should keep the darling out of mischief for a little while. She’s probably being deported back here as we speak. Any thoughts about that?”
“Very clever, sir. Great thinking.” His twitching eye was getting worse.
“Okay, now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do. It seems this magnetic issue is causing havoc with our spy satellites and the Pentagon’s driving me crazy about it. Goddamn idiots, they can’t even cope for one minute without all their expensive toys. Wars were meant to be fought by people, not machines.”
The major nodded.
Denny returned to his electronic pad. A moment passed, then he looked back up. “You’re still here?”
The major saluted, spun around and left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.
Denny was proud of himself. He had taught Janine Fuller a lesson, just as he had taught Johnny MacFarlane a far more gruesome lesson in high school all those years ago. You don’t piss Denny Smith off and expect to get away with it. That boy had paid for his wickedness with his life forty-four years ago, and it was only a matter of time before all those filthy traitors in Washington would, too, including the President of the United States of America.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The trip to Canberra proved to be quite an adventure. Drew Murrey had a fascination with antiquated things, so after climbing into a 1995 Toyota Rav 4, Drew drove the car himself on the two-hour drive. The professor was intrigued by this vintage car. As he told Drew, although his late father had driven a similar vehicle when he was a boy, it had been a long time since he had climbed into a stick-shift human-driven car. Automated chauffeurs were introduced by 2019, and it seemed like a lifetime ago before that.
The road was intermittently punctuated by roadworks and construction crews who were in the process of installing more wireless electricity-charging pylons.
“Drew, are they doing here what I think they’re doing?” asked Steve, who was sitting in the front seat. His color had noticeably improved.
“Yes, mate, we’re a bit behind the times out here. After installing wireless electric-charging pylons to all the cities years ago, we ran out of money, so the project to cover all of Australia was put on hold. Only recently, after the farming communities staged a huge protest, did the government finally come to the party. The country is over ninety percent complete now. Mind you, the e-tag payment system is still getting the billing wrong. Last month they overcharged me by five thousand dollars. Had to prove to them that I hadn’t recharged as many times as they said I did, which wasn’t easy.”
“Wow, in the US we had completely changed over to wireless by 2034,” said Steve.
Steve looked over at the professor, who seemed to have dozed off. “How about you, Prof?”
The professor shuddered, then quickly sat up and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I missed that.”
“When did the UK go completely wireless?” asked Drew.
“By about 2032, if I remember correctly, as we celebrated completion the same week that the monarchy came to an official end.”
“Yeah, was a very sad time here,” said Drew. “I remember Mom being devastated. She was a real royalist right to the bitter end.”
The professor cleared his throat again. “It was just a matter of time. It was after all an outdated system, and with all the damn scandals over the years, I think the public finally had enough. Of course, there were a few die-hard royalists that went berserk, but ultimately, the referendum was quite decisive.”
Drew stared out at the dry rural landscape. It was a dull, overcast day, and the somber mood propelled him back to an earlier time and place, one in which he was surrounded by horses and farm animals, tractors and kangaroos. This was the place where he had ridden his first bicycle, had bashed up Ronny Hall, and had experienced his first sexual encounter with Keith Lyons, behind the school shed. It was also the place where his father had beleaguered him with difficult chores, belted him on occasion for being naughty, and ignored him a good deal of the time while he tended to the land.
Jim Murrey had been a simple yet hardworking man, who had never shown his son much emotion, but Drew believed, or perhaps wanted to believe, that it was just because he was too busy and never had the time. He recalled his cousins riding around on their father’s backs, or kicking footballs around with his uncles, and how he would often feel excluded and jealous, but Drew wasn’t like other children. He was very different indeed. From a very young age, he had shown an extraordinary intelligence, far greater than his cousins or the neighbors’ children. He had also grown up gay.
Walking at nine months old, talking comprehensively at the age of one and solving complex mathematical equations by the time he was seven was also part of what made Drew very special. Right throughout school Drew had excelled, and had wanted nothing more than to take his unusual gift to the next level, but that of course would mean leaving the homestead and with it his father’s dream for him to manage the land someday. Being gay in Cobar, New South Wales, was also no easy task. Even though he kept this part of his life a secret, it still hurt him to see the way people spoke about homosexuals, as if they were somehow less than human and an acceptable target for ridicule. Although officially gays could marry and enjoy full equality in the eyes of the law, unofficially attitudes toward homosexuals in the rural areas still took time to catch up with those of the cities. As a young adult, he desperately longed to spread his wings, explore his sexuality and develop his unusual intellect in the leafy gay Mecca of Darlinghurst in Sydney. Unfortunately, that all just seemed like a far-off, ridiculous dream and had resulted in many sleepless nights, and even a couple of half-hearted suicide attempts for the teenage loner. It therefore had come as an overwhelming surprise when on his eighteenth birthday, his father took him to the local billabong to fish, and handed him his birthday gift. It was a key to a one-bedroom apartment in Sydney that he’d purchased for him to live in while he studied at the University of New South Wales. It was that day that he also came out to his father. Expecting rebuke and rejection from the stern, middle-aged man, to his utter surprise, his father had given him a big hug, and told him how much he loved him, no matter what or who he was. From that day on, it didn’t matter anymore that his cousins and friends had played football or wrestled or cuddled with their dads. His father loved him unconditionally, and that, after all, was what really mattered in his life.
That misty, satisfying memory drew salty tears to his eyes, and he quickly brushed them away. Although their relationship had been a far from traditional father–son relationship, it was immensely special, and his heart ached for his dad.
“So, Drew, how are things out here in Oz?” asked Steve, bringing him back to the present.
“Not too bad. I’d say the economy’s doing alright now.”
Drew turned off the motorway and onto a small winding road lined by a row of eucalyptus trees, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. “Well, fellas. Looks like we’ve arrived,” he said, pulling into the parking lot of Stromlo.
The
huge transmitter sparkled in the bright spring sunlight. It was in some respects even more spectacular than its cousin in Pasadena. What it lacked in size at Canberra, it made up for in brilliance. Giant mirrors and glass formed magnificent geometric patterns at the base, while the uppermost receiver dish looked like a colossal diamond resting on a slab of hexagonal steel.
The area seemed remarkably quiet. Steve prodded the professor to wake him up.
“Not much going on here. Where are the security guards? No military?” said Steve.
“We’re a bit isolated out here, and as you know we’ve kept this site under wraps to the public,” Drew said. “Although with the latest news flash by that spunky reporter, I guess it’s just a matter of time before the TV crews arrive en masse. A good friend mentioned that channel nine is already on their way over.”
Coincidently, just as Drew made that comment, a TV crew appeared, as if they had been summoned by him.
A man in a gray suit and tie with a neatly trimmed beard approached the car as the three men stepped out.
“Excuse me, but you wouldn’t be a Mr. Murrey, would you?” he asked.
Drew frowned. “No, mate, I think the bloke you’re after is inside that building over there,” said Drew, knowing only too well there was no possible way the reporter could gain access without government clearance.
“Thanks. Would you mind doing us a favor? If you see him, please mention that we’d be extremely grateful for a short interview.”
“Will do, mate. I’ll be sure to tell him.” Drew winked at the man. “That’s of course if I see him,” he lied glibly.
“Thanks,” said the reporter again as he and his crew gathered up their equipment and moved on.
“Looks like I spoke too soon,” said Drew. “Lucky I’m not a very well-known face or I wouldn’t have been able to get away with that. The vultures will no doubt be swarming around us very shortly, and I’m not sure how long I can stall them. By the way, I’ve had your retinal images uploaded onto our security database, so you’ll be able to come and go as you please.”
The three men approached the entrance to the building. A slight breeze sent a chill through the air as they reached the scanner. Just as predicted by Drew, they were all granted permission to enter.
“Best to keep an eye out for who comes through here,” said the professor, moving his bushy eyebrows back and forth.
“I think this is actually where our security breach originated,” Steve said, ignoring the professor’s poor attempt at humor.
“One thing I can say for our security,” said Drew. “We may not have scores of soldiers marching around, but we have the absolute latest security technology, and any tiny discrepancy in the system will send the alarm bells ringing, big time.”
“Good to hear, we can’t afford another security breach at this most critical time,” said the professor, who was looking twitchy to Drew.
Drew led the two men to the main control room and his desk, which was home to his vintage laptop.
“There she is,” he said. “Ain’t she a beauty? One of my dad’s finest works of art.”
“Hopefully she’ll give us some answers,” said Steve.
“I have faith in her. She’s all yours, just please take good care of her. There are heaps of good memories on her hard drive.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll look after her and we’ll call you if we need you,” said the professor abruptly. Drew had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t needed anymore.
“Cheers, lads, see you later. I have some things I have to do anyhow.”
He was about to leave, when the aurora caught his eye through the windows. “Look at her go. Bloody incredible!”
The three were mesmerized by the spectacular light show in the sky.
Steve shook his head. “That doesn’t fill me with optimism. As beautiful as it is, it disturbs me.”
* * * *
Janine was behaving like a wild animal, newly captured and struggling to be freed. She screamed from behind the invisible electric force field that kept her within the confines of her cell. The field was deceptive since it was undetectable to the naked eye. Janine had already tested it out and experienced a brief 2000 volts of electricity that catapulted her back into her cell.
“Let me out of here, you idiots!” she yelled.
No one was listening. Since guards were not necessary, she was alone. She gazed around the pokey room at the old-fashioned flush toilet and the washbasin on her right, while to her left lay a stained mattress with a large indentation, and she wondered if some enormous guy called Bubba might have been sleeping there earlier. To add to her woes, the toilet was leaking water onto the floor, and there was also a toilet roll next to it, meaning there was no auto-sanitation system. She almost gagged at the thought that she may have to clean herself with paper. There were no windows or doors and one could barely swing a rat in this space, never mind a cat.
She tried to calm herself down, and then reluctantly came to the conclusion that it was going to take a lot of clever thinking, and a ton of luck if she was ever going to escape this mess, especially since she was in a place where bribes and “gifts” were not well received. What’s more, she didn’t have any contacts in high places in Australia. She put her mind to work and devised a plan.
After feigning a fall on the wet floor, she braced herself and then in an Academy Award-winning performance screamed, “Guard, guard, I need some first aid. I just slipped and I think I broke my ankle!” she groaned through the intercom.
There was no response.
This time she shouted into it, trying to inject some anguish into her tone. “Guard, please, I need some help. I’m in agony.”
After waiting what seemed like an eternity, a massively built man in camouflage fatigues arrived, Taser gun armed in his right hand. She recognized him as the same man who had arrested her at the airport.
“What the bloody hell is it now, princess?” he asked, rolling his eyes.
“Please, I think I might have broken my ankle,” she cried, even managing to summon some tears while hopping on her left leg.
“Okay, I guess we’d better take you up to see the doc, then.”
The guard deactivated the force field and grabbed Janine by her left arm, yanking her roughly out of the dingy room.
“Stop that, you’re hurting me!” she wailed.
“Serves you right for trying to enter Australia illegally.”
“Illegally?” she asked, trying to pull her arm free.
“That’s right, illegally. Your visa was canceled and you should never have boarded that plane. Apparently you’re some kind of fugitive.” He looked her over as one might size up someone’s physical measurements for a custom suit. “Mind you, I wouldn’t have picked it.”
“Fugitive? You have to be kidding me. I’m going to sue the pants off you and your department for detaining me without due cause.”
The guard let out a mighty roar of laughter. “Still running with that story. Whatever floats your boat.”
A few minutes later, after being dragged along a narrow corridor, which was quite a feat while hopping on one leg, they arrived at the medical center and the guard released her, shoving her into a chair. “No funny stuff. Remember, I’m just outside the door,” he warned her.
A skinny doctor with wide-rimmed glasses and a thick moustache entered the room and greeted her. He looked like a caricature from a 1930s Charlie Chaplin movie.
“So, Miss Fuller, I’m Doctor Feldman. What can I do for you?” he asked politely.
“It’s my—”
“Stop. I’m no fool, Miss Fuller. I know every trick in the book, having worked here for nearly fifteen years.”
The man roused her curiosity. There was something about his demeanor that had caught her attention. His poker face and the way he spoke and moved suggested he was hiding something. Janine had seen this behavior before, when she had done interviews with soldiers after their return from war.
“Okay le
t’s cut to the chase,” she said. “You’re a professional man. Obviously I’m not a hardened criminal, and for some reason I’ve been detained here illegally. There’s got to be some kind of error in the system.”
The skinny doctor opened his virtual computer screen. On it were images of MRI scans that had been taken on a prisoner the day before. A hologram of this patient’s anatomy sprung to life, revealing detailed images of his brain.
“Oops, wrong one,” he said. “Here it is. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but a certain General Smith entered you onto the system shortly after you boarded the plane at LAX,” he continued in his monotone.
“Damn. I should’ve known he was involved!”
She scratched her chin. It was not good news, but at least the order had come from the States. There was a morsel of hope. If the directive had originated in Australia, it would have been next to impossible to overturn it.
The man was staring at her. There was a quality of sadness about him.
“Doc, I realize this is against the rules, but if I could just make one quick call I’d really be appreciative.”
The man seemed like he was a million miles away. Janine looked at the doctor’s hand. There was a gold wedding band on his ring finger, yet instinctively she knew this was no happily married man. She needed to ascertain the cause of the sadness, the reason for his poignant demeanor if she had any hope of gaining his trust and possibly his help.
“Think how your wife would feel if you went on a conference somewhere and you couldn’t give her a call to say that you’d arrived safely.”
“Um, I’m not married … anymore,” said the doctor, his upper lip quivering just below his moustache.
“Sorry to hear that. Recent divorce?” asked Janine.
“No. My wife passed away six months ago from breast cancer.”
“Breast cancer?” asked Janine, sitting back in her chair, her eyes narrowing. “I thought that was deemed completely curable five years ago?”
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