by Rob Mclean
“I’m sorry ma’am,” she said in the same emotionless voice, “but neither you nor anyone at that address are registered.”
“Pardon me?”
“You aren’t registered with the new authorities…”
“What, so you aren’t sending any help? I don’t believe it.” Angela cast a fretful look to her mother.
“No, ma’am. We can send a unit, but we need you to be aware there is a cost involved…”
“So we’ll need to pay?”
“Yes, ma’am…”
Angela knew they had given all the cash they had to Zeke. “You can bill us, right?” She sent her mother a questioning look.
Clarice nodded, but without conviction.
“Yes,” the voice on the line said, “but it will be in New Coin.”
“New Coin?” Angela looked to her mother for help.
“But we don’t have any of that devil’s money,” Clarice put a fresh towel on Geoffrey’s head wound. “Where are we going to get some now?”
Her father groaned.
“I’ll take some cash from an auto-teller and try to find a money-changer somewhere.” Angela covered the phone as she tried to work out details.
“Ma’am?” the voice on the phone sounded irritated. “You still there?”
“Yes,” Angela said quickly. She didn’t want to lose the call. “Yes, that will be fine, just send help please.”
“Ma’am, you can pay via credit card…”
“Of course.” Angela realised that the woman must have been able to hear what she and her mother had been saying. No wonder she sounded a bit terse. “Thank you, yes, that’ll be good.”
“One moment.” Then after, what seemed to Angela to be a very generous Biblical moment, the voice returned. “A unit has been despatched ma’am, should be there soon.”
“Thank-you,” Angela said to the voice on the line. She put the phone down, closed her eyes and then repeated her thanks as a prayer.
“They’re coming, are they?” Clarice asked, then without waiting for more than a nod from Angela, continued, “I don’t know how we’re going to do this…”
“What do you mean?” Angela asked. “The ambulance is on its way…”
“You know we don’t have medical insurance. We can’t afford it, not with his pre-existing condition. And if he has to stay in hospital for any length of time on top of the cost of the ambulance…”
“It’ll be okay, mom,” Angela said, but she didn’t know how.
Chapter 57
John and Grace had spent almost two hours waiting for their squads and the detectives to finally give up on their sweep for Zeke.
During that time he had gone through Zeke’s laptop as thoroughly as he could. Angela’s future husband had visited a number of Christian ‘resistance’ sites and had established a network of like-minds that he communicated with both stridently and regularly. No doubt his phone would have many more contacts, but it was enough for the detectives to start with.
Although many of his ‘Christian friends’ had pointed out that his rants about the alien envoy being the AntiChrist straight out of the Book of Revelations weren’t exactly accurate, it hadn’t stopped him blogging tirelessly about it being Biblical end times. Unfortunately, from what John could see, although there was a lot of ranting and protestations, which fitted the image John had of the arrogant poseur, it wasn’t enough, in his own opinion, to lock him away. When the detectives and his squads finally returned empty handed, they confirmed there was nothing concrete to hang him with.
“We can check his phone records,” Grace said. Since finding he had bought a sex-doll, Grace seemed even more determined to nail the Christian crusader. He supposed she was all worked up from some sort of feminist point of view – something about women being seen as sex-objects.
“Hmm, yeah.” John had to admit, it disturbed him too, but not just from a sexual perspective. It was also the hypocrisy, but John felt there was more to it – something more sinister, maybe some weird, obsessive fixation the fanatical rich kid had with Angela. He just couldn’t work it out and it niggled him from the corners of his mind. As much as it worried him, he put it aside. Whatever unhealthy obsession that guy had, John told himself he had more important and immediate things to focus on.
“And we don’t even have to get a warrant, since he’s not a citizen.” She had fired up Zeke’s desktop PC, and had been randomly trying passwords to access it. Mostly to pass the time, John assumed, but he didn’t want to underestimate her determination.
After the squads had returned they packed up all the relevant evidence, the laptop, the desk-top, Chelsea’s phone and some paperwork. They dropped it all off at the police station and returned to the BlackSky depot.
Grace called John over.
“Hey, after I fill in this report, do you still wanna give your friend-girl a visit?”
“Friend-girl?”
“Whatever… You coming?”
John thought about it for a moment. Did he really want to see her again? Seeing her would stir up all those feelings anew. Part of him wanted to put all that behind and write it off as one of life’s lessons. Also, as silly and pointless as it would be, the thought of seeing her filled his head with wishful hopes. Pain and hurt would be the most likely outcome and he sure didn’t want to put his heart through that anymore, but…
“Sure, okay,” he said as casually as he could, but his heart was hammering its protests.
“Good, gimme ten.”
John used the time to fix himself a coffee and make a start on filling in his own small hillock of forms and reports. Anything to take his mind off what he might say if he saw Angela again.
Before he knew it, Grace appeared, keys in hand, ready to go. She led him to one of the Ford Interceptors they had used earlier. John raised an eyebrow. The costs of taking one of these trucks compared to one of the smaller cars…
“Don’t sweat,” Grace said in response. “Got it for the whole day.”
Grace took the wheel. John was happy to watch her back it out. “Ready Mr Navigator?”
“Take a right,” he said, pulling out his phone. He called up the address he already had on his phone. He didn’t want to use the company’s sat-nav and have her details on there for anyone to see later.
After a few minutes of direction and silent ruminations, Grace took her eyes off the road to study him. “Jeez, Johnny. Relax, will ya?” she grinned at him. “You look worse than before the raid this morning.”
John had to admit to himself he did feel more nervous. “You know,” he said, “she might not even be home. Sure hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts.”
“Sure, but we’re not there to arrest anyone.”
“No? What if we see our terrorist friend?”
“We follow him and call in back-up, right?”
“Sounds a bit soft,” John growled. “We could take him. Heck, you could even take him by yourself.”
Grace shot him a disapproving look. “I’ll take that as a positive assessment of my capabilities…”
“Yeah…”
“Rather than an archaic sexist put-down.”
“Nah, all I’m saying is that we could nab him. We don’t need any back-up.”
“Gotta do it by the book Johnny.”
“Hmmm, sure.” The thought of forcibly restraining the slippery rich kid was a favourite reoccurring day-dream.
They drove past an abandoned church in silence.
A flag of the new U.N flew from the crucifix atop its spire. Black, sooty stains above the new clear glass windows spoke of the recent events. ‘Community Centre’ the rainbow coloured sign out the front said, but the rest of the building was waiting for a new coat of concealing paint.
The city had changed since the referendum. City road signs, council street signs, shop fronts and even private homes displayed the new U.N. logo, leaving them no doubt as to the allegiances of the citizens. Roadside billboards promoted the latest government initiat
ive – “Love thy Neighbour” it read, with the sub-title, “Report non-citizens,” – with a date for the implementation of the government deadline in stark text along with a free-call number.
John shook his head.
“What’s up Johnny?” Grace asked. “Don’t like all the changes?”
“It doesn’t seem right…”
“What do you mean? Those Bible-bashers have been telling us what to do since… like forever.”
“They weren’t all bad.”
“No? Biggest cause of wars in history and don’t get me started on all those kiddie fiddlers in frocks…”
“They weren’t all bad. Some did a lot of good…”
“Look Johnny, they were the most powerful organizations in the world for a very long time. Since way back before the last world war all they did was to persecute and kill people. They’ve fought every bit of progress and change.” She glared at him. He had never seen her so intent. “No, they’ve had their chance and they stuffed it up with greed and self-interest.”
She drove on in silence for a moment before they drove past a billboard announcing the envoy’s forthcoming appearance. “Now these guys show up,” she said, referring to the envoy’s picture on the billboard, “telling us basically that we’ve all been duped by these God freaks for ages. No wonder people are all cranky-pants. Personally, I’m surprised there hasn’t been more lynching.”
“Hey, don’t hold back,” John said, trying to lighten the mood, “tell me what you really think.”
Grace gave him a grin. “Okay, okay. I don’t rant much, but when I do…”
“It’s a free country…”
“Sure, but that whole religious system is responsible for misogynistic dicks like this Zeke guy.”
“That, maybe, and bad parenting.”
“Yair, so busting his ass is top of my ‘to do’ list at the moment.”
“Roger that,” John said, “but not without back-up, right?”
Not much more was said as they covered the rest of the trip to Angela’s except for directions. John was worried that he hadn’t picked Grace as someone who would have come out with such strong opinions against the religious. He suddenly felt he had to be careful with what he said around her. He then began to wonder if there were others in his crew who would be likely to get upset if they thought he were being too sympathetic towards the outlawed believers.
They rounded the corner to Angela’s street and the first thing John saw was the silent flashing of lights from an emergency vehicle. From the distance, he couldn’t tell which house it was calling on, but as they got closer, he felt his heart quicken. The closer they got, the more the fears he dreaded materialized in front of him as it became apparent that the ambulance was sitting in her driveway.
Still in combat gear from the raid on Zeke’s apartment earlier that morning, Grace and John rushed to the front door. Grace paused to knock, but John went straight in.
Inside he saw the paramedics loading Geoff onto a gurney. A drip line fed into his arm and an oxygen mask was strapped to his face.
“Did somebody call in the S.W.A.T teams?” one of the paramedics asked, looking up at John’s imposing figure.
“What are you doing here?” Angela asked. She stood by her father, holding her mother with an arm around her shoulder, in a side hug.
“Looking for Zeke.”
“Well, you’re too late,” Angela said, her voice laden with anger, but who it was directed at, John couldn’t tell.
“So he was here?” Grace asked, stepping in front of John. “How long ago? Where is he now?”
Both Clarice and Angela regarded the newcomer, dressed in black combat gear, with a cool disregard.
“What happened to Mr White?” John asked. “Did Zeke do this?”
“Yes,” Angela said at the same time her mother said the opposite. They looked at each other before Clarice rolled her eyes and said, “not directly.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Although Geoff wasn’t moving or talking, John could see he was still alive by the slow rise and fall of his chest.
“He’s had a turn,” Clarice said.
One of the paramedics looked to Clarice, who nodded her assent. “We think he’s had a stroke or maybe some sort of CVA,” he said. They lifted the gurney and a set of wheels folded out.
John and Grace stood aside as the paramedics wheeled him out to their vehicle.
“CVA? What’s that?” John whispered aside to Grace as they watched the patient pass by.
“Cardio-Vascular accident?” Grace shrugged.
“Nearly,” said the other ambo. “Cerebro-Vascular accident,” she said, “but we’ll know more once the ER docs get a look at him.” She then called to Clarice, “Ma’am, are you coming with us?”
Clarice looked to Angela for guidance.
“You go mom. I’ll follow in dad’s car,” she gave her mother a reassuring hug.
“What about your little Suzuki?” John asked.
Angela bit her lip to stop it trembling.
“He took it, didn’t he?” John felt his fists curl.
“You didn’t give it to him,” Grace added, “cause that would be aiding and abetting a felony.”
“You don’t have to say anything to these… people” Clarice spat.
Angela just nodded, her head bowed.
“You’re in no fit state to be driving,” Grace said. She nodded to John, “we can give you a lift, can’t we?”
“Sure,” John said automatically.
“Then how will we get back home?” Clarice said, “Honestly, do I have to think for everybody?” She fluttered her hand towards Angela. “She’ll take our car and she’ll cope just fine. She’ll have to, won’t you dear?”
Angela shuffled and shrugged, then nodded. “Guess so.”
“Let me,” John said.
Angela looked to him. He thought he could see both gratitude and relief flash through her eyes in the briefest of contact before she looked away.
“That could work,” said Grace, and then to Mrs White, “He passed his defensive driving course.” But Clarice had said her piece and expecting it to be done, she had turned her back and was preoccupied with escorting her husband to the ambulance.
John looked to Angela. “Is that a yes, then?”
“I suppose,” she winced.
“Look, I don’t want to get you in trouble,” he said nodding towards her mother.
“No, that’s not…”
“Ah,” John said with sudden understanding. “It doesn’t mean anything, you know…”
Angela tilted her head as she gave him a questioning look.
“Just part of our investigations…”
“Oh, I see.” Did John imagine it, or did a flash of disappointment cross her face.
“Okay. I’ll just dump some gear with Grace and I’ll be right back.” John flashed a smile and went with Grace to the Interceptor.
He took off his Kevlar vest and the utility belt. He wished he could unload his boots as his feet were starting to ache, but he had nothing else to wear.
“You’ll be okay, Johnny?” Grace asked with a wink. “Don’t need any back-up?”
“Maybe with her mother.” They both laughed.
“Ain’t she a piece of works?”
“Yeah, but she means well, I guess…” John shrugged, knowing how good Clarice’s hearing was.
“Well, you know, they say you should take a good long look at your future mother-in-law.”
“Really?”
“Yep, cause that’s who you’ll be waking up next to in thirty years’ time,” Grace said, pointing a finger in the direction of the old woman climbing into the back of the ambulance.
John frowned. He couldn’t imagine Angela would ever end up as tactless and self-centred as her mother.
“Anyway,” Grace said pulling out the car-keys, “see if you can’t get some info from your little friend-girl about our favourite terrorist.”
“Don’t think he’
s stupid or trusting enough to tell her anything much. And even if he did, I doubt she’d tell me anything.”
Grace grinned as she leaned over to punch him on the shoulder. “Don’t underestimate your powers of charm and persuasion.”
John returned her grin. “Not done much good so far.”
They watched the ambulance drive away.
“So far,” Grace said, starting the engine, “day’s not over yet.”
“Take care,” John waved her off and went around the back to wait for Angela.
His eyes followed neat beds of flowers that lined a straight edged courtyard. Clipped hedges framed an orderly but small backyard. Bins stood in their designated places and the garden hose was fully retracted into its holder next to the small garden shed. Whoever had the time or energy to fuss over something like a garden? And yet the front porch step was loose?
“Ready?” Angela appeared at the back door, clutching her purse under her arm. She locked the door behind her.
“Yep, just admiring the garden.”
“One of mom’s little hobbies,” Angela said with pride.
“But the front porch step…”
“Oh, that.” Her face fell. “Dad’s job.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said pushing past him on her way to the garage. “we all have our jobs, you know, boy jobs and girl jobs.”
“Guess so. Makes sense…”
“It’s Biblical, so of course it makes sense.” She opened the garage door to reveal a pale baby blue 1985 Pontiac Bonneville in showroom condition. She threw him the keys. “Driving is a boy’s job.”
“Really?” John risked a grin. “Is that Biblical too?”
She didn’t answer, just waited with her arms crossed, for him to back the car out of the garage.
The car purred smoothly as it glided out of the shed. The interior was in top condition and the duco gleamed with a high polish. Rugs covered the seats and a dash-mat lined the top of the dashboard. There was stale smell that defined it as an old person’s car, as fastidiously maintained as the backyard, but hardly used.
“So where to?” John asked as soon as Angela had put on her seatbelt.
“Albans. You know where to go?”