by Jen Cole
BEAM had learned from bitter experience to move carefully when it came to the H Group. It had taken years to link the rise in seemingly unconnected foreign acquisitions of local orchards back to this single group. The H Group’s connections with the foreign buyers were buried in a highly tangled web, and those who wandered too close to discovery tended to meet with fatal accidents. Nevertheless, through the cautious persistence of their field agents, some brilliant investigation from their economic analysts, and just a few sheer lucky breaks, BEAM was now in the process of building a portfolio of incontrovertible evidence against the scions of industry involved in the H Group.
In a few years they expected to have such a watertight case against them that when released on the net, it would jolt people from complacency and popular outcry would force world governments to not just break up the H Group, but to co-operate in formulating extensive new anti-trust laws and processes to ensure such a situation could never re-occur.
Richard faced facts. He wouldn’t be quitting this job anytime soon. For all its disadvantages, the work he was doing satisfied an emotional need. The Incident, never far from his consciousness, which had precipitated his joining BEAM, had set the course of his adult life.
~~~~
CHAPTER 22
Jo kept an eye on George’s retreating back as she dodged between cars, and finally made it across the road. She pelted to the laneway down which he’d disappeared and saw him at the far end, peering around the corner. At her panting approach he turned and she glimpsed a supermarket parking lot beyond.
“Wait here Mrs. Wiseman. I’ll collect the car and drive past in one minute.”
Before she could speak he was gone, moving swiftly between rows of compacts and SUVs, and Jo sagged against the alley wall, gulping air.
Less than a minute later the Lexus drew level with the alley and Jo leapt in, not requiring the warning to stay low. Smoothly George turned out of the car park and navigated through the shopping streets to the main highway.
“It’s safe to sit up now, Mrs. Wiseman. We haven’t been followed.”
“Are you sure?” Jo’s heart was still thumping.
“Pretty sure. I think I’ve outsmarted him. Where would you like to go from here?”
“Bayside Shopping Centre in Frankston. That’s the end of my trip, but George, what happened?”
“I must apologize for arriving late…”
“Don’t worry about that! Fill me in,” Jo demanded.
“Well, after dropping you off, I did as you suggested and parked a few blocks down the street in full view. The silver Ford Falcon drove past and turned the corner, so I thought perhaps I’d been mistaken about it following me. I decided to stretch my legs and buy a paper. I was in the newsagency when I glimpsed a bald head passing the front window.
“Unfortunately by the time I rushed out the fellow was gone, so I couldn’t confirm my suspicion. I went across the road to have a coffee while I read my paper, but I didn’t take much in.” He gave a laugh. “I was too busy peeking over the top of it every couple of minutes, hoping to spot our chrome-dome friend.”
“And did you?” Jo held her breath.
“Not a sign. I decided I’d let my imagination get the better of me and returned to the car, but to play it safe I drove in a random pattern around the streets, keeping an eye out for the silver Falcon, and I’d swear that neither it nor any other car followed me.
I had about twenty minutes before I needed to be at your cafe, and I remembered Cassie had asked me to pick up a bottle of wine, so I drove into a liquor store car park. I bought the wine and was just about to leave when the Falcon entered the parking lot, and pulled into the back row.”
“Bloody hell!” the words slipped from Jo’s lips.
“Exactly. Although I’d seen no one following me, its turning up couldn’t have been a coincidence. Then I realized there was a way I could have been followed unseen – if the car had been fitted with a tracking device.”
George glanced at Jo in the rearview mirror as though expecting an objection, but she sat still and pale.
“I thought of it,” he added quickly, “because of my cousin’s wife’s dog.”
“Dog?”
“Mixie, a little Yorkshire terrier. She’s a real escape artist, always running away but not smart enough to stay off busy roads. Con was going crazy trying to keep her contained. Finally he bought a dog tracker. It came in a box with two parts - a tiny GPS device that you clip to the dog’s collar and a handheld unit. Now when Mixie wanders beyond a set range, the unit beeps and displays a map pinpointing her location. It’s easy to buy these trackers, so anyone could attach something like that to a car.”
Jo nodded. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the Hunter had equipped himself with a pocketful of tracking devices, probably far more powerful than those used to locate dogs. He could easily have strolled back to the Lexis when George was buying his paper and attached one.
George continued. “I drove away from the liquor store as though everything was normal, but I couldn’t risk going anywhere near your cafe. For a while I was stumped. I had to find a way of checking the car for a tracking device without being obvious and then I remembered.”
“What?”
“During all the driving around I’d just done, I’d passed one of those do-it-yourself car wash places, so I went straight back there and gave the Lexus a thorough wash.”
“And you found something?”
“Eventually. It was high up under the front fender. A small black box held magnetically in place. It took quite a yank to get it off.”
“What did you do with it?”
“Slapped it under the rear bumper of the car at the station in front of mine while its owner was hooking back the vacuum hose. When he drove off I followed him just in case anyone was watching. That way my car’s movements would correspond with the signal being sent by the tracker, and calm any concern that I might have found or dislodged it. Eventually I peeled off and parked in the supermarket car park. I loitered around in the alley for a while keeping an eye out for the Falcon but it didn’t turn up, so I figured it was safe to come and get you.”
“You’re amazing, George,” said Jo.
“I’d like to say it’s all in a day’s work,” he replied. “But I can’t really admit to having done that kind of day’s work before.”
“Well if you ever get tired of driving limos I’m sure ASIO would take you on as a secret agent.”
George gave a bark, but quickly sobered. “I don’t like the idea of abandoning you in Frankston, Mrs. Wiseman. That creepy young punk has me worried.”
Not half as worried as he has me, thought Jo. The Hunter’s out-thinking me at every turn. If George hadn’t found his tracking device, Frankston would have been my last stop. Will the Hunter have discovered yet that his tracker is on the wrong car? He’s bound to have, she thought grimly, and that will be his confirmation I’m still using the Lexus. He’ll be telling his agents to look for it. I couldn’t be in a worst place than this car!
“George,” she said. “Is it possible we’re being followed right now?”
“I’ve been watching the highway since we entered,” he said. “No one seems to be following.”
Jo looked out of the window. They were on the outskirts of Frankston.
“How long to Bayside Shopping Centre?”
“We’re only a couple of minutes away. Or would you prefer me to take you to a police station?”
“I need to meet up with Andy,” said Jo quickly. “He had to catch a taxi when you didn’t arrive on time and he’ll be waiting for me at the shopping center. We’ll go to the police together.”
“You should do that Mrs. Wiseman. Tell your husband I strongly believe this warrants a police report. I don’t want to scare you but I have a nasty feeling that the kind of stalking Baldy’s up to is not the harmless variety.”
“I agree.”
Jo jammed her bits and pieces into the straw bag and e
yed the laptop ruefully.
“George, would it be possible for me to rent the laptop for a few days?”
In the rearview mirror she saw him draw breath and hesitate.
“I’d be happy to leave a large enough deposit to cover the entire replacement cost. Would $2000 do it?”
“Mrs. Wiseman, for that amount you could buy a new laptop.”
“Yes, but I only need this one for a few days, so I’ll expect to get most of my deposit back when I return it, and it’s convenient to have the Internet dongle,” she added.
The dongle was what she really wanted. She couldn’t buy one of her own because of the law requiring ID for purchasing wireless communication devices, but this one was registered in the limo company’s name.
“I guess it’ll be okay,” he said, smiling into the rearview mirror. “The company would probably be satisfied with a hiring fee of $100 a day. We’ll refund the balance of your deposit on return of the equipment in good order.”
“Great.”
George negotiated a turn and pulled into a vacant spot in the shopping center parking. “I’ll get the laptop’s power cable.”
As he walked around to the boot, Jo pulled an entire wad of notes from one of the untouched pockets in her money belt. Quickly she peeled nine off and pushed them into her wallet.
George returned with the power cable and Jo counted twenty hundred-dollar bills into his hand, then added another.
“The extra hundred is for you George. You’ve been a truly excellent chauffeur.”
“Thanks Mrs. Wiseman, but my gratuity was included in your initial payment.”
“Well however much that was, it wasn’t enough,” said Jo.
While George wrote a receipt for her deposit, she climbed out of the car and walked around to his window. The straw bag was now bulging with far more weight than it had been designed to carry. She urgently needed a new one.
Jo pocketed the receipt and extended her hand. “Thank you again, George.”
The chauffeur shook it firmly. “All the best, Mrs. Wiseman.”
As Jo walked through the doors of Bayside Shopping Centre she noted it was close to ten. She had an hour to remake herself.
~~~~
CHAPTER 23
From the studio Playroom, Angela Karpin watched the Prey enter the shopping center. Jo had made a mistake getting back into the Lexus at Mornington, but luck had been with her. The Hunter, confident his tracker would enable him to keep tabs on the Lexus, had stationed his few agents around Dromana, blocking escape routes. When he’d discovered the trick, he’d sent instructions for them to locate the limo, but Jo had reached the shopping center before they found it.
Now fresh agents heading to Mornington from Shepparton had spotted the Lexus travelling towards Melbourne. When they stopped it and found only the driver, Angela figured they’d backtrack to possible places he might have dropped Jo. The Prey probably imagined she had a safe hour before the 11.00 a.m. posting, but she might well be in for a shock.
Angela looked down to find her hands clenched, and realized with surprise it was not through excitement of the chase, so much as fear for Jo. Selfish Ancestors deserve no pity, Angela reminded herself. But if she’s so selfish, why does she care about us?
The chase was heating up and with all the agents involved, the technicians and programmers were working frantically. They’ll probably need my help soon, Angela thought, and then did something she’d never done during such a frenzied part of the game. She left the Playroom.
Taking the elevator to the sub-ground floor she set off through the connecting passageway to the children’s silo. I just need to clear my head, she thought. A visit to Ben and Sandra should do it. But as she walked, a phrase kept playing thought her mind. Ninety square kilometers. What they could do with that land! Could Jo be right? Were the Safe Places now all producing enough? The Company said no, not quite. Just a few weeks ago they’d issued a notice that on this Relocation Day there would be no spare land, although by the next one there would be, guaranteed.
How long had they been saying that? In the last hundred years there had been three Relocation Days. According to her parents, The Company had also promised spare land before theirs and her grandparents’ Relocation Days, only to regretfully recant at the last minute, saying it wasn’t quite possible yet.
How could there still be insufficient food and resources when none of the other Safe Places were complaining of a lack? Ben was turning five this year and Angela had imagined taking him outside on his birthday. She hadn’t expected a great deal – just a tiny part of their ninety square kilometers made into a park with trees and grass for the children to run on, but apparently even that had been too much to ask. And here was Jo, telling them to use the lot!
Having always regarded herself as a good employee, Angela was amazed at the rebellious things she was thinking. Why did The Company never release figures on the production yields of the Safe Places? What kind of work were the Directors and Secretaries actually doing within the blurred area that was for Sacred Company Business? Why had employees been taught from birth that all Ancestors were despicable? Jo wasn’t despicable, Angela finally admitted to herself. How many Ancestors were like Jo?
She pulled up short. Employee knowledge of the past had always been restricted to the little The Company had told them, but with the Microwave Time Viewing technology, the means to gather their own information was at hand. Did she dare? She thought of the opportunity her children had just missed. They’d be in their thirties by the next Relocation Day. Would that one also be a bust? Would their children miss out too?
If The Company’s being completely honest with us, she decided, they shouldn’t object to my accessing records from the past. Such records would only confirm what they’ve told us.
Angela checked a virtual map and then ran through the underground passage to silo twenty-seven. It had a programming Playroom. She took the elevator up, found an empty terminal and typed in a routine to mask her address. Then she set about hacking into the Fun ’n’ Games pipeline to Jo’s era. It wasn’t hard. She knew that pipeline inside out, and in a matter of minutes had accessed and downloaded copies of historical data digitally stored in the libraries of Jo’s world. Her programming team, Angela noted with pride, had already discovered the hack and were working to trace it. She pulled out. She had what she needed.
Working fast, Angela sent the zettabytes of information through a translation program and finally into the info stream accessed by all employees. Only then did she wonder what the penalty might be if The Company was displeased. Fitani, in charge of the equipment, would face the blame.
She hoped the information would be worth it.
~~~~
CHAPTER 24
Jo walked past the umpteenth window of uninspiring mannequins. Apart from out-of-the-question eveningwear, none of the outfits she’d seen were much different from those the Hunter and his agents already knew. She needed a disguise! She could feel her breathing becoming rapid and clutched the back of a nearby bench seat. Calm down, she told herself. There’s stuff you need to get rid of. Do that now.
Sitting, she dragged out the jeans, black shirt and jacket, and transferred the money from their pockets to her wallet. Should she just fold the clothing and walk away? Someone might be grateful for a new outfit.
Jo, you’re losing it, she told herself angrily. You can’t leave evidence for the Hunter you’ve been here! The shock of what she’d nearly done made her jump up, grabbing everything. She dumped the clothes into a bin and checked her watch. Barely forty-five minutes to find something new to wear and get away.
Her heart began to pound. It was going to be impossible to change her look and now the plan she’d devised in the safety of the Lexus, seemed pathetic. On Google maps the station had looked close, but half a kilometer from the shopping center could take ten minutes after the 11.00 a.m. posting and then she’d have to wait for the train to arrive. The Hunter’s agents would be swarming to
the station. She’d set herself a trap, not an escape route! Maybe she should catch one of the buses servicing the shopping center. But she had no idea which ones travelled near Moorabbin airport.
As Jo staggered through the shopping center, her head spinning with the needs of clothing and transport, she almost missed the solution. On her left, brashly flaunting its colorful wares was a bicycle shop. That was it! She could buy a bike, kit herself out in Lycra and helmet, and be indistinguishable from the dozens of cyclists weaving through traffic and giving motorists ulcers. She’d get to Frankston station quickly on a bike and could take it with her on the train. Then when she got to Cheltenham station, she’d be able to cycle to the airport.
Almost floating, Jo entered the shop. A lanky guy in his twenties lurched across to intercept her.
“Can I help you? I’m Andrew.”
Jo flashed him a warm smile. “Hi Andrew, I’m after a bicycle and cycling gear.”
He looked her up and down knowingly. “First time rider?”
“I had a bike when I was a kid.”
He gave a condescending nod. “We’re getting a lot of customers like you. People who decide cycling would be a great way to get some exercise and save on petrol costs, but who aren’t so hard-core they’re prepared to ride in bad weather or do really long distances. Have you considered a folding bike?”
“A what?” Jo was beginning to regret her earlier smile. Did he think she had all the time in the world?
“A folder is ideal for urban travel. Ride to work, then fold it up and stow it in a cupboard. It fits easily in a car boot, so you can take it with you on holidays.”
His words penetrated. Jo had pictured having to abandon her bicycle at Moorabbin Airport when she flew to Shepparton, but this sounded much better. A folding bike would fit on the plane, which meant she’d have transport when she got to Shep and could get away quickly after coordinates postings.