by Jack Dey
With another cursory glance around the quiet street, he stalked across the road and waited on the footpath, in the shadow of the building. Any moment, a tenant’s vehicle would come along and the automatic gate, guarding the underground car park, would open and he would slip in undetected in the dark, before the gate closed again. From his vantage point, he could see the light escaping around the drawn shades on the third floor window. He would carefully observe her movements before performing his act and making her disappear forever, in the process, regaining his well earned title. The hunt was the best part and he shivered in anticipation, while the cold, stony eyes reflected the dim street light.
He chose his participants carefully. They had to be a certain age; height; hair colour; and build. An amateur magician asks for participation from a limited audience. He, the master, chose from his audience all over the city and very carefully.
Just as he was enjoying setting up the game in his mind, a car pulled into the driveway of the apartment block and stopped beside an illuminated number pad, supported on a metal pedestal. The driver window opened and a hand extended out and manipulated the buttons while the heavy gate clunked; an electric motor whirred and the gate covering the underground car park entrance slowly opened, allowing the vehicle access. Once the gate reached its fully opened mark, a sensor tripped and the gate began to close again.
Observing the vehicle that had just entered, he carefully peered around for prying eyes and then slipped into the dimly lit car park. He found her car parked exactly where he expected it to be and confirmed its identity; the burn mark was still evident in the roof, although it looked like the woman had tried to polish it out.
"Amateurs!" he spat, as he observed the mark.
The vehicle had been sighted and confirmed, and now, he had to sight and confirm the woman. He walked back over to the gate covering the entrance, waved his hand in front of the vehicle sensor and the gate began to open again. He stopped on the footpath and gazed up at the third floor window.
"It's show time, Samantha."
*~*~*~*
Sam Young's work day began the same way, every day. She left her third floor apartment at 8.20 am; climbed down three flights of stairs into the car park below; drove her car out of the apartment complex at 8.25 am; did a left turn into her street and followed the same route, arriving at Bowyer and Thorpe Partners at Law car park at 8.45 am; she parked her car and was at her desk by 8.50 am; ready for her 9.00 am start.
Today was just another work day for Sam.
It was 8.25 am. And the little car did a left turn from the apartment car park and headed up the street, toward town.
In a dark sedan, parked down the street, a man recognised the small car approaching. The windows were up, as usual, while the image of a blonde headed woman wearing sunglasses, with a bob hair style, passed his vehicle and continued up the street, unaware of his gaze. He smiled as she drove past and followed at a safe distance. Studying his watch, he confirmed the time: right on schedule. She drove into the Bowyer and Thorpe car park at 8.45 am and then disappeared under the building, as he continued on as if he was just passing.
"This is the last time you will have to worry about keeping your workaday routine, Samantha," he whispered to himself.
*~*~*~*
In another part of the city, a mobile phone beeped, as a hand reached into a pocket and retrieved the device and manipulated the buttons, until a message appeared on the small screen.
Game on.
*~*~*~*
Leanne Bates regained her confidence in her home and began to trust her duplex again. She was feeling secure since Tom had added extra locks to her doors and windows. It felt a bit like Fort Knox and Fort Knox was just fine with her. She settled back into her own bedroom and slept well, regaining her strength, thanks to Tom and Jessup keeping guard over her. Tom fussed around her for three days and nights, giving her the confidence to go it alone again; she could no longer stomach orange juice.
Tom was around most days and kept a close eye on her. She placed his phone number on speed dial, while the realisation he was only minutes away, gave her the assurance to pick up the pieces of her life and soldier on. She was one grateful lady.
The police kept in contact, asking difficult questions. But she still had no recollection of the incident and therefore no more answers. Tonight, Detective Ryan had phoned her with an unusual request. Although she was hesitant at first and still feeling vulnerable, she reluctantly agreed at Ryan’s fervent urging.
*~*~*~*
Dulcet found it hard to concentrate, not knowing what Ryan was up to. Sam Young had become a good friend, while Ryan had offhandedly exhorted Dulcet to just trust him, with Sam's life and he had been adamant about not interfering. He resisted the desire to call her and check to see if she was alright.
Dulcet had been on the back foot all day with Blair anyway. He had missed the deadline for finishing the joint navy/army operation and had had to face the full force of Blair’s ire. Seems everywhere he turned these days, he was being yelled at.
It was late as he put the finishing touches on the operational plan. It wasn't his finest work, but at least it was done; Blair had ordered him to stay at his desk until it was finished. He copied the folder, inserted it into an email to Blair and pushed send, then shut down his computer and in the process glanced at the office clock: midnight. He stood unsteadily, yawned and pushed in his chair, then tiredly trudged back to barracks.
Pushing open the door to his room, he flicked on the light and still fully dressed, climbed onto his bunk and stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. He was exhausted, but couldn't get Sam out of his mind. She was the closest thing to a family he had, like a big sister. Apparently, his own family had deserted him at a young age, or so he was told, though he had no recollection of any of them, anyway. It just seemed once he started to get close to someone, they were ripped away from him again. Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was fatigue; most probably it was the uncertainty of Sam’s security that was causing his blue mood.
"Come on, Dulcet, get a grip. Feeling sorry for yourself isn't any way to help Sam."
Once again he contemplated ringing Ryan for news, but thought better of it. It was late and Ryan would probably bark at him for waking him. Then, Dulcet’s logical mind came to the conclusion that Ryan wouldn’t deliberately put Sam in danger and in his own time, would let him know about the covert operation he had planned. Finding comfort in his own deliberations, Dulcet rolled over, causing the baggy uniform to tangle around his skinny frame and tying his arms and legs in uncomfortable knots. Too tired and deflated to remedy the situation, eventually he settled in a semi comfortable position, while his eyes became heavy and started to close.
*~*~*~*
Dulcet yawned and stretched, as he climbed down from his bunk; his neck was sore after a restless night.
"That'll teach you for sleeping in your uniform," he chided himself.
He gathered his towel and toiletries and reaching for his room door handle, started towards the showers. As he twisted the doorknob, he glanced down and found a letter which had been slipped under the door, lying on the floor in front of him.
"What's this?" Dulcet’s curiosity was piqued. He turned the envelope over and noticed the name of the addressee. It was from his friend in Sydney and in a flurry of fingers, thumbs and ripped paper, Dulcet tore the envelope open and began to read.
G'day Dulcet,
Re the sample you sent for analysis. Where on earth did you get this from? Talk about a headache. You owe me big time for this and all the trouble it has caused me.
Dulcet smiled, "Okay, Eddy, I know I owe you, but what did you find?"
It seems the sample is mainly iron. The thing is, it has been superheated and its physical properties indicate it has been subjected to phenomenal forces, not unlike a catastrophic explosion. There are other properties in its makeup, neither I nor anyone else here can identify.
You aren't up to anything
illegal, are you?!
That's about all I can tell you, unless you come clean and tell me more about the sample.
Your old mate,
Eddy.
"Thanks, Eddy," Dulcet offered, as if Eddy was standing there with him.
Dulcet folded the letter and placed it on his desk among the mountain of Magician paraphernalia. He would deal with that later and try to make sense of it. Glancing at his watch, he began to panic. He was due at work in a few moments and if he didn't want Blair's bad breath for breakfast, he had better get a move on.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 43
A navy blue van pulled up outside Samantha Young's apartment and squeezed into a small space between two parked vehicles, directly opposite and in full view of the third floor window. The driver extinguished the lights, peered around the quiet street and glanced up at the light escaping from behind the drape on Samantha’s window. Everything seemed quiet.
Assured the scene was as he planned and with the dome light blacked out, he pushed the driver door open. With a fluid move, he closed and locked the door and slipped unnoticed alongside the van and then, with a gentle effort, slid the sliding door open, accessing the spacious and windowless cargo hold. The cargo hold was dark and quiet, until an accomplice recognised his companion and started the process of waking up their sensitive equipment.
As the equipment blinked into life, the van’s interior glowed in the soft illumination of functioning, electronic devices. Light-emitting diodes traced the movement of sound and reacted with a sudden dance up and down a ladder-like scale, when a sound was detected. With an animated gesture, the equipment operator beckoned his accomplice inside, while closing the sliding door with an accentuated, slow motion effort and culminating in a silent click.
The accomplice, perched alongside his companion on a specially fitted chair, stared intently at a GPS tracker, watching the target while his companion listened to another device through headphones. Above his head was a TV screen, showing the front of the building and both sides of the street.
He removed the headphones momentarily and whispered, "Have you tuned in on the bait?"
"Yep, she's watching TV."
"She must be a bit nervous; keeps wandering around and peeks out the window every few minutes."
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yep, guess so."
The two men settled back to keep watch on their instruments. Nothing was happening... yet. This was going to be a long night.
After a few hours and feeling the weight of boredom, one of the men brought out a flask and poured two coffees. The steam and aroma combined, and filled the van’s interior with a pleasant odour. The simple distraction brought a renewed vigour and their alertness increased momentarily. The strong coffee added spice to the dull atmosphere and its effects were immediate: staving off tiredness that could be catastrophic in this situation.
A stifled yawn hissed through the van as one man checked his watch: midnight. The tracker dot suddenly moved from the lounge room to the bedroom; while the TV screen above their heads indicated the lights had been extinguished inside Samantha’s apartment and the window went dark.
"She's gone to bed," a whispered statement broke the silence.
"Half her luck."
Another two hours went past and the early hour was finding its mark. The two men found it more difficult to stay alert and their eyes began to droop, heavy with the expectation of sleep. Just then, the tracker started to move and fast.
"Hey, the tracker is moving!" one man hissed, causing his companion to jump at the sudden excited voice. Without hesitation, the hours of boredom suddenly turned into an animated game of life and death.
"Eagle One to Eagle's Nest, over."
"Eagle's Nest, over."
"Were moving."
Just then, the apartment car park gate opened and a black sedan drove out and headed north, at high speed. One man glimpsed the registration plate; vehicle make; and reported it in. The GPS tracker dot was moving in unison with the speeding car, while they tracked the vehicle’s movements with their equipment; giving location updates to the unmarked police vehicles, now in pursuit.
"Okay, Eagle One. We've got him on our GPS. Good work."
The two surveillance men acknowledged their commander and at the same time, they knew their job was over; while their thoughts were with Samantha and the police closing in. An unmarked police car followed the GPS dot and started gaining on it, but they were still a few miles behind. Meanwhile, the suspect vehicle was heading for the hill country and open bushland. Fifteen minutes later, in a maze of bush tracks, the GPS dot blinked out and the chase ended.
Helicopters found the abandoned car twenty minutes later, deep in low scrub and no sign of any life. With the aid of police ground searchers; a number of helicopters; and tracker dogs, they scoured the bushland well into the daylight hours, but to no avail.
The Magician had lived up to his name. He and his victim had simply disappeared.
*~*~*~*
Grasping for understanding, a forlorn figure in a suit drooped over his desk and at the same time, held his head in his hands; a shell shocked and desperate individual, gutted and empty, aware that his failings had cost the life of a precious human being. Although the sun had been up for many hours, his desk lamp still cast an ominous glow over the untidy mountains of paperwork scattered across his work space.
"You alright, Ryan?" Jim prodded gently.
No answer.
Just then, a cautious figure peered around the door and into the room. Ryan was vehemently opposed to the presence of the police chaplain in his workaday world and told Dan in no uncertain terms, to stay out of his way. Dan had tiptoed around him for days, like a cat on a hot tin roof and spent the time praying for Ryan. Now, he felt Father drawing him into Ryan’s life and it was time to cautiously come alongside the feisty man.
Jim recognised Dan’s outline at the office door and motioned for him to enter. Jim’s eyes met Dan’s and in a concerned gesture, pointed at Ryan. Dan nodded and warily approached Ryan, not knowing what he would encounter. He placed his hand gently on the shoulder of the big man.
Ryan let out a sigh and his shoulders began to shudder.
Dan glanced around at Jim. "Can you give us a few minutes?" Dan whispered.
Jim nodded and on his way out, closed the door to the detectives' room and stood guard, so no one else could enter and disturb the important conversation about to take place.
Ryan raised his head and recognised Dan standing by him. Without even acknowledging Dan’s presence, he began an angry tirade.
"How is it that evil always wins?! The operation with the Magician was my idea and now a good friend and top policewoman is dead!"
Ryan slammed his fist into the desk, making Dan flinch. Dan waited for a moment, listening and silently praying for Father’s wisdom before answering.
"We live in a fallen world that's why, Detective Ryan. What you see so much of, is mankind's rebellion to their Creator. We were created to live perfectly, in a perfect world, with a perfect God and no crime or badness of any form."
"What?!" Ryan spat.
"The Bible explains the creation of the world and the universe in Genesis. It also explains the fall of mankind, through one being's evil desire to be in place of God, and deceive humanity out of its rightful place as God’s pinnacle creation and to live in God’s presence eternally. This being was a created being, too, by the way. God gave mankind the choice to follow Him; to be obedient to Him; and live in a perfect world. Or to listen to the voice of the deceiver, the in place of God being, and live in a world of personal ambition, greed, crime and death, while following this being’s example. Among other things, the Bible calls this being, Satan or the Fallen One.
"Mankind chose to deliberately disobey God and follow Satan; in so doing, we were forbidden from God’s presence and the privileges associated with eternal life. God gave us our wish: to follow our own foolish, evil desires and t
o be like God. But He took away the benefits of being obedient to Him: no pain; no fear; no crime; no death; not having to toil for our food. All the wrong in the world is because we disobeyed Father… God.
"We are meant to live forever. Did you know that? What you see now, on a daily basis, is the direct result of that decision: mankind’s free will to serve Satan. The good news is, that God became a man Himself, to fix it. He sent his Son–fully God and fully man–to offer Himself as a free ticket for each one of us to re-enter God's perfect world when we die. It costs us nothing. But it cost Him everything. He is the only one good enough to appease a perfect God and offer a perfect sacrifice on our behalf. Father now sees our imperfection through his perfect Son, who indwells Christians and accepts us back. But we have to choose to accept it."
Ryan looked Dan squarely in the eye.
"How do you know that the Bible is right and not just another book?"
"If you seek the truth earnestly, Father will reveal Himself to you. I have a church full of people who have found the truth and the truth is costly."
"I know a lot of bad church people," Ryan smirked.
"Perfection comes only after death, in God's kingdom. We are fallen, forgiven people, living in a fallen world. We try not to, but we all still sin, just like you do. The only difference is, when we ask Father for forgiveness, He wipes it, straight away. With you, however, it goes on your report card and He will eventually ask for an explanation and then punish you for it."
Ryan's smirk disappeared in a uncomfortable move.
"So what about all the evil in the world?"
"Father will deal with that, when the final battle comes between His Son and the evil being's forces. Except that the evil being is no match for the Son of God and it will be a blood bath. All the people who have chosen to stand with the evil being and don't belong to the Son, sadly, will perish and live with the evil being in a tormented world, forever."
Ryan appeared to be struggling with his thoughts.
"So, according to you, the Magician is following his choices and just acting out of obedience to the evil being, this... Satan."