2014 Year of the Horse

by Liliane Parkinson

  “Hello, have ya come for the key? I’m Jennifer and I’ll show ya around the house. This here’s Em.”

  Em hid her face in Jennifer’s shoulder and peeped shyly at the visitors.

  “Hi Em. Thanks Jennifer, we’d appreciate that. I’m Maree. This here’s M-Manu, Annie and J-Josh.” Jennifer caught a faint hint of uncertainty. Perhaps his name wasn’t Josh, she suddenly thought, or maybe Maree was just nervous. She smiled a warm welcome and nodded.

  “Pleased to meet ya. Just drive in ... there’s plenty of room at the back for yer cars. I’ll open up.”

  They drove in, parked then followed Jennifer as she led the way, dashing off instructions.

  “Here’s the BBQ, the gas bottle’s filled. Ya need to turn on this tap here when ya want to use it and please turn it off when yer finished. Just take the cover off the Spa when ya wanna soak. It’s very relaxing and always warm. The towels are here. Yer on tank water but the tanks are full so ya don’t need to worry about water usage.”

  They followed her into the house.

  “There’s the information directory. It’s got heaps of brochures and cool information for visitors … Have ya used a pellet fire before?”

  They all shook their heads. They listened as she explained its operation and showed them where extra bags of pellets were stored.

  “Before I go, can ya fill out our arrival form please?”

  The man called Manu took the clipboard and pen. They sat straight-backed waiting for the sound of his pen on the paper to end.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Here’s my mobile number in case ya need anything and I’m not at home.” She wrote it on the top of the client copy and handed it to them. She beamed at them.

  “I hope ya all have a wonderful stay. We’re a bit sheltered from the southerly. Marlborough’s lucky to have a micro climate and so the weather should be dry for most of the week.”

  They followed her out and waited by the cars as she walked down the drive and disappeared next door. Em had waved happily at them watching from her vantage point over Jennifer’s shoulder.

  They were staying for a week and so unless they needed something, the rest of the week was hers. Her kitchen overlooked the parking area and as she filled the kettle she could see them starting to unload the cars. She wondered about the visitors. She liked to imagine their everyday lives in far away cities. Still this four hadn’t said much. Most tourists were only too happy to chat but these were like grumpy teenagers and there was something odd about them. They had an unlikely look. She couldn’t quite explain it to herself. Geeky glasses but the guy looked more like a tight prop than a swot and one of the women had dyed her hair. It had been done recently and Jennifer had noticed the stains on her neck and hair line and on her hands. Then one of the men was definitely wearing a wig. His cap had perched oddly on the mop looking a size too small. She giggled to herself, men were so vain. The rap beat and deep bass thump of the car radio drowned their conversations and pulsated through into her kitchen. She was glad when they were finally inside, and she could again hear the steady drum of the waves against the stony beach. It wasn’t that she disliked rap, she just preferred the sea filled silence.

  The next morning Jennifer was washing the breakfast dishes when she heard them loading the car. Her tourists were making an early start. The back door banged shut followed by four separate clunks as the car doors slammed loudly. The engine started and they disappeared down the road. An hour later the car returned and one man got out and went inside. She couldn’t tell if it was the geeky one or the wig. Later in the afternoon she heard the car leave again and return an hour later, this time with all four visitors. It appeared they had had a great day out and music, laughter and snatches of conversations could be heard all evening. At eleven the lights went out and silence returned. The next day followed a similar pattern. She wondered at their comings and goings spinning an imaginary itinerary.

  It was on the third night that Jennifer first became suspicious. Em was teething and woke crying. Jennifer picked her up and rocked her. The moon was high and she had not turned on any lights. She stood near the window looking out onto the street cooing quietly to Em when she heard a car drive past and into the house next door. It had no lights and as it turned into the drive the engine was switched off and it glided to a stop behind the other two. The car door opened and shut very quietly and a shadow disappeared into the house. It was after twelve. When Jennifer got up to make Em’s breakfast there was no sign of the third car. It was as if it had been a dream. She forgot about it in the busyness of the day.

  That night she slept lightly and woke as soon as she heard the car pass. She got up and peered through the curtains. It was an exact replay. There was something odd going on. She felt uneasy spying on them in the middle of the night.

  CHAPTER 46

  Pania arrived in her office earlier than normal. She’d been varying her routines and this morning there had been no hint that she’d been observed. It would be a busy day. Tomorrow George would arrive and by then the opening ceremony would be a mere 24 hours away. She was tense with stress and felt she was constantly crossing her fingers to ward off trouble. She stirred her coffee as she waited for her system to boot. The machine was sluggish as if it didn’t want to start but at last the log-on screen displayed, she typed in her ID and password and waited. Gradually the icons displayed and finally the cursor. She opened her emails. There was one from E Redpath but the attachments had been stripped. There was no message so she had no idea what they were. She rang IT requesting their release. For the rest of the morning she was frantically busy and it was lunchtime before she had a free moment to check her emails again. The attachments were waiting.

  She opened them and stared in fascinated horror at the images. In the first, she recognised George – a younger and by the look of it, very drunk George – with a girl who was, she thought, rather striking; long dark hair, a small fine featured face and stunning body. The photo was ordinary. Two students looking worse for wear. The others were different. It was the same girl but everything in those snaps was dark and grim. There was no doubt in Pania’s mind what she was looking at or that George was involved. The attachments were damning and she remembered the words in that Christmas email. It was a very neat stitch-up. Had her judgement of George been so wrong, she asked herself? She couldn’t believe it. She liked George and she was usually good at picking up on inconsistencies. Perhaps her emotions were blinding her. If she had been wrong then she knew exactly what she needed to do and she would do it. These files would be passed on and in the hands of the proper authorities they would provide almost enough evidence to convict him; certainly enough to detain him.

  For a long time Pania sat lost in thought. She was faced with two scenarios; either it was a setup or it was real. She had to decide which option she favoured and what actions she would take.

  CHAPTER 47

  George stumped up the ramp back into the departure lounge. It swarmed with disgruntled passengers who quickly scattered their cabin bags and backpacks. He picked his way over the shambles and found a spot as far away from the VIPs and their protection squad as he could. He slouched in the plastic chair and ignored the conversation flowing around him. Instead he opened his briefcase and took out his ipad. He tried to put himself in Brady’s shoes. What might the man have planned, he wondered, and why? As he googled he was struck by the number of organisations which claimed ESAP as their founder charity yet on its own website little mention was made of these offshoots. Google made the links. There was AOL in Colombia and APW in Pakistan, Change Makers in New Zealand and Making Changes in South Africa, the list went on. George laboriously started to follow the links. He noted each organisation on his pad and joined up the networks. Then he started with names. People moved about. It seemed that workers in one organisation were promoted to another seemingly unrelated charity. George followed their progress and linked the organisations until his page was a riot of squiggly lines. He stared at his j
ottings. They formed a rather complicated and untidy web, as if made by a spider on speed. Snug at the centre of the web was ESAP. The black intersecting threads did not look reassuring. George shuddered. For an instance, he felt like an arachnophobe.

  He turned his attention to Facebook. Most of the names he searched for had no Facebook pages but amongst those who did, George started to notice some common themes, phrases and words; not obvious enough to be noticed by the casual observer but George was no longer casual. He was looking for connections. He followed his instincts. George was starting to see a faint pattern. Quite what he thought he saw was not yet clear. Maybe with time the dots would connect. George closed his eyes and stopped thinking. He concentrated on the empty void and freed his subconscious to make the connections.

  His phone vibrated, waking him from his contemplation. There was a new text, this time from Pania. Just seeing her name filled him with pleasure and he vowed to himself that he would protect her if it was the last thing he did. He accessed her message and his earlier pleasure vanished. E Redpath had meant NZ time and not local time as George had assumed. Pania had received the attachments. With a dejected shrug he vowed to concentrate only on the moment and ignore the worries of the past or the future; easier said than done. He turned his phone off. He needed to understand that elusive pattern and his mind was very tired.

  CHAPTER 48

  The mechanics and engineers finished whatever it was that they were doing and the plane was declared fit for flying. A new crew arrived and amid tired cheers the passengers began reboarding.

  George found his seat and looked around. Last time he’d been too tense to notice where he was or who his neighbours were. Now he found himself in the middle of the suits. He smiled across at his neighbour who was already enjoying his complementary drink.

  “Por fin,” the man said with a tired sigh. George nodded.

  “At last indeed.”

  “You’re Americano?”

  George nodded again. “Hope this delay hasn’t ruined your plans?”

  “No no. It just means we miss some pre-conference briefings. No importa.”

  “You must be one of the delegates. Are you going to the ROAR Forum?”

  “Si. I’m in the South American delegation.” He swelled with pride. “You know about ROAR? Are you a delegate too?”

  “No,” George answered. “I’m not but it’s an important conference.”

  “Si. We will make a difference. This Forum will be the beginning of a new world order.”

  Suddenly all George’s senses were on the alert.

  “Have you been to New Zealand before?” The plane left the ground and both men felt a lightness that comes at takeoff. The wheels bumped as they folded into the plane. It continued to climb. The man shook his head and drained his glass. George held out his hand. “I’m George Ritmeyer by the way. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Diego Moreno. Department of Commerce.”

  Diego was happy to chat. George only had to ask a question and make listening noises. The hostess passed regularly and Diego had progressed from champagne to Scotch on the rocks. George stuck to water. Their conversation moved in random spurts. George mostly listened and nodded.

  “You heard of AOL?” Diego asked. George forced himself to relax and kept his voice casual.

  “Sure. It’s a volunteer group isn’t it?”

  “That’s where I got my start.” Diego leaned over and lowered his voice. “Nowadays I belong to The Chosen Way.”

  George had seen these words on Facebook. He smiled his interest and nodded hoping for more. Diego sipped his Scotch while George listened to the ice clinking in the glass. His arms rested lightly on the armrests and he concentrated on becoming invisible. He wanted Diego to keep rambling on.

  “I’ve never in all my life met a more friendly and caring group; never really imagined that my dreams were possible but now I know that they’re close to becoming fact. Outsiders don’t realise this but The Chosen Way, it’s like a brotherhood. No. More than that. We are closer than brothers.”

  “Are there many of you in this brotherhood?” George prodded.

  “Millions,” Diego boasted. “We are like life itself, made up of cells, forming, growing, and dividing constantly. We’ve spread all around the world, our brothers and sisters are everywhere. This Forum, this is our opportunity. George my friend believe me, at the end of this week the world’ll be a different place, and you know what? I’m part of it. I count. I can make a difference.”

  “That sounds very exciting, but what exactly do you mean. Are you planning some fireworks? Do you intend to blow up some buildings, kill a few people?” He laughed to show he was joking. “Who’s behind this new world idea?”

  Diego stared at George suspiciously for a long moment. George held his stare with an innocent, naïve expression as if merely curious.

  “George. I know I can trust you but I’m not at liberty to say.” He lowered his voice and looked around but no-one was listening. A noise cancelling drone filled the cabin and the acoustics further deadened their voices. Not only was their conversation unheard but so were those around them. “What I can tell you is that we have enough delegates in enough regional blocks to bring in sweeping changes. No bombs. We value life not death.”

  He took a sip from the new glass the hostess had put before him. George wondered how much Diego knew about Brady’s plans.

  “Are you in charge?” George asked.

  “No.” Diego laughed heartily at the very idea. The Scotch went down the wrong way followed by much coughing and spluttering. The hostess handed him a glass of water and patted him on the back. Her eyes glinted with amusement as if to say, serves him right. George kept his expression neutral. Diego’s face shone pepper red from the effort.

  “You all right my friend?” George asked in a concerned tone when the coughing stopped. Diego slowly opened his eyes. With a large cotton square, he wiped the sheen from his face and nodded.

  “I’m what we call a Defender. In Colombia our CM, our cell master is Frank, Frank Thompson.”

  “Ah Frank. The CEO of AOL?”

  “You know Frank?” Diego asked. George nodded, yes he knew of Frank.

  “Right. Wesley Smithson, he’s the DM divine master.” He slurred, overcome with intoxicated emotion. “He’s wonderful. He has all the answers, revealed by God and we just need to obey, to do as he says. He’s our inspiration.”

  “Mr Smithson - he’s the CEO of ESAP I think. Is that the same man?”

  “Yes, but how do you know all this George?”

  An edge of suspicion entered his voice. George thought for a moment and then he said.

  “I used to room with Brady Ambler.”

  There was silence as Diego digested this. Suddenly he reached over and held out his glass.

  “Then George we are brothers indeed. I’m doubly delighted to meet you. Salud.”

  Their glasses clashed then he tipped the contents down. George waited. When he turned his head to speak, Diego was asleep. The hostess removed the empty glass and turned off his light. She smiled at George as she passed. George leaned back and closed his eyes. His mind sifted through their conversation and the litany of random facts. He had so many unasked questions.

  Beside him Diego started to snore.

  CHAPTER 49

  Fernando waited at the front of the slowly growing queue. The minutes dragged on and the LAN Chile counter remained closed. He’d planned to check-in early, determined not to miss his Santiago flight. He wished he’d thought to slip his stress-ball into his pocket. He felt the tension grow as passengers fidgeted in the queue behind him and complained to each other about the delay. Outside the dying southerly gale still howled around the buildings. Spring might have arrived but the temperatures were bitter. He wondered what the temperatures were like in Bogotá. A good ten degrees higher he concluded wistfully. He couldn’t wait to get home. The loudspeakers crackled.

  “LAN Chile Flight 807 has been cance
lled due to the non-arrival of the aircraft. Passengers are advised to check at the LAN Chile counter for updates and alternative reservations.”

  A groan rose around him as people realized that their plans were being disrupted. Staff appeared behind the counters, turned on their terminals and Fernando moved forward.

  “Lan Chile wishes to apologize, sir. The incoming flight was cancelled due to mechanical problems and is being rescheduled. You can expect a delay of at least twelve hours.”

  “Please you rebook me now?” Fernando asked anxiously.

  “I’m afraid we must wait until the next outgoing flight is confirmed. I suggest you keep in touch by phone. You will have plenty of warning once bookings can be taken.”

  “Its important I leave on next flight. I wait here, at airport. Can you give ... how you say ... priority?”

  “All passengers from this flight have priority over standby passengers. I can’t do more than that sir. I’m afraid you’ll just have to be patient and understand that we are all doing our utmost to ensure you get the first available seats. If you prefer, there is another scheduled flight tomorrow. I can check if there are any free seats.”

  “Please. I have appointment in Bogotá - in two days. It’s important I go.”

  “Just a minute.” Fernando saw the middle of her smooth forehead fold over into a small frown as she concentrated on her terminal screen. She nibbled at her freshly applied lipstick as she checked the reservations and the air carried the scent of her perfume, not yet faded by busy activity. He waited. “Okay, we have no economy class seating free sir but there is a business class seat if you are willing to pay for an upgrade. Your ticket will allow this. You’ll have to reorganize your onward flights.” She looked up her frown deepening. “Unfortunately Mr Garcia, I cannot guarantee that you’ll get to your destination by the ninth. You should prepare for the possibility that you’ll miss your appointment.”