2014 Year of the Horse

by Liliane Parkinson

  “Buenas tardes. I’ve just landed. My Auckland flight was cancelled and I missed my connecting flights and my appointments. I have some unexpected free time and would like to travel around Chile for some weeks. There’s heaps I’d like to see, explore the city and visit Patagonia, maybe take a side-trip to Peru to visit Machu Picchu. Is this possible?”

  “Your ticket can be changed and we can rebook you. What dates were you thinking?”

  “Can I get an open ticket? That way I can be more flexible. If things are interesting I’d like to stay a bit longer here or there.”

  “That’s possible. Your time’s a bit limited. Your ticket will expire in five months.”

  “Oh I don’t expect to stay that long. A few weeks are all I am thinking about just now.”

  The open ticket was handed over.

  “Gracias. Adios.” Fernando thanked the official and headed out to the bus stop.

  CHAPTER 69

  Wesley sat in shocked disbelief, his mind searching for ways to turn this terrible disaster to his advantage. No matter which angle he explored he could see no hope. With his eyes on the TV he forced himself to consider the facts. ESAP and its many subsidiaries would collapse as financial debts were called in. Brady had no idea how vulnerable they were. He felt weighed down by guilt and fear. A voice in his head shouted that he would never help save another person; instead he would face incarceration, perhaps even die in prison. He refused to listen and remembered his risk management contingency plans. He had to be free. He could at least save himself. That thought gave him purpose. It was time to execute his backup plans. He took a deep breath and shifted in his chair.

  “Brady I’ve had it. There’s nothing we can do at the moment. I need to get some sleep. We can meet again tomorrow to determine how we can recover and what we need to do to protect our people. Perhaps you should send out some texts from Emery Redpath then you should get some rest too.” He stood up. “’Night Brady,” and headed quietly to his office.

  He logged into his laptop and set in motion the emergency software. Investigators would find nothing incriminating on his machine. He looked again at the Robert Frost poem on the wall behind his desk and nodded to himself. God help me, I’m definitely taking the road less travelled, he thought with growing dismay. At the last minute he took the page down and put it into his briefcase. He looked around for one last long moment burning the scene into his memory then he walked out the door.

  He scuttled home and shoved essentials into his half-packed bag. His false passports were already sewn into his jacket lining, hidden behind its pockets. From the bookshelf he selected a couple of battered paperbacks and pocketed them to hinder the x-ray machines, then he drove his car downtown and parked it in a badly lit side street, halfway between two ineffective street lamps. He left the key in the ignition, his passport and wallet in the glove box and walked to the nearest hotel. The lobby was empty and the desk unattended. He stood outside and dialled a taxi then dropped the phone in one of the many trash cans obstructing the sidewalk. By morning they would be emptied and the car gone.

  He intended to disappear without trace.

  At first light under an assumed identity and fake passport, he boarded a plane heading south. For the next few days he travelled, always south, each flight under a different identity, each destination more insignificant and remote. Three days later he stopped flying and vanished.

  CHAPTER 70

  Hanna was the first one into the office the next morning. She waited impatiently for Wesley to arrive. Several hours later Brady straggled in looking sick. Still she waited until at last her anxiety forced her to knock on his door.

  “Do you know where Wesley is?” she asked.

  “No. Said he’d be in today. Haven’t you heard from him at all?”

  “No. I rang his home and his mobile but there’s no answer. The phone’s been ringing nonstop; almost all of our overseas project managers have rung. They sound desperate. I need to talk to him. It’s really important.”

  “Can I help?” Brady asked in a half hearted manner, his mind clearly on something else. Hanna looked at him for a moment and then she blurted.

  “Yesterday’s cheques have all bounced including my wages. I checked the bank account. It’s way beyond its overdraft. All the others are the same. Everything’s in the red. There’s no money. Not anywhere!”

  She had Brady’s full attention.

  “Are you sure?” She nodded vigorously. “Show me! … Please,” he added as he realised how abrupt he sounded. Together they looked at the figures. Hanna logged in to one after another of the company bank accounts and Brady watched in horror as the red numbers he’d scribbled down added up.

  “What does it mean?” she asked hesitantly. Brady didn’t answer instead he marched to Wesley’s office. She followed him and they both stared at the tidy room. Its silence mocked them. Everything was normal or was it? It took him a moment to see the fade mark on the wall behind Wesley’s desk and remember what had once hung there. He tried to remember Wesley last words. ‘Emery Redpath’ Why hadn’t he taken note? It was their red alert, the password for disaster. Then Brady remembered Wesley’s words ‘Protect your people’.Brady turned and retraced his steps. He pulled out his chair and slumped into it. Hanna waited in the doorway. He looked up and a tired smile flitted across his face.

  “You should go home Hanna. It’s finished. ESAP is bankrupt and the receivers will be here in a few days. Make sure you take anything which might link them to you and disappear.”

  He fished in his pocket and drew out his wallet.

  “How much do we owe you?”

  She just looked at him her face frozen in horror.

  “Here’s two hundred dollars. It’s all I have.”

  He stood up and pressed the money into her hands. Hanna could see that he was too ashamed to look her in the eye. His glance skittered across his desk. Brusquely he picked up a pen and pushed it at her.

  “Take this as a souvenir of your time with us. I think it’ll mean something to you, perhaps not now but one day. It’s one of only 240. Now I need to do some things before the police arrive. I’m sorry Hanna,” he muttered. “It’s over. Best you go now while you have time. Good luck.”

  She stood rooted to the spot, staring at the Mahatma Gandhi Montblanc in her hands. She knew that it was his favourite and she knew it was his favourite because it was the most exclusive pen he owned. Her eyes brimmed as she looked up. Brady’s handsome face twisted in angry frustration. He pushed her roughly and slammed the door.

  Hanna stood stunned. She’d always thought him an attractive man but this was a different Brady. He’d had never given her anything and now suddenly she had two hundred dollars and a collector’s pen. She heard his voice echo ‘It’s over’, then she remembered the word ‘police’. It galvanized her into action. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She brushed them away with the back of her hand.

  She hesitated, she hadn’t thanked him. She raised her hand to knock, then reconsidered and reluctantly returned to her work station to clear up. As she tidied up, shredded documents and erased files, she feared for her family. What would happen to them, to Niger and the kids, now that ESAP was bankrupt? Her usual sense of optimism failed her and the days ahead seemed to stretch bleakly before her. She couldn’t make sense of what had happened.

  CHAPTER 71

  Brady sat as if frozen behind his desk. He glance fell on his Montblanc collection. Already he was regretting his generousity.

  He heard Hanna begin to shred documents. He shook his head as if to clear a fog. He looked at the fish tank and thought that his red fighter looked a bit jaded. Then he remembered what he had to do. Abruptly he triggered the emergency texts, opened his computer and clicked on the red icon. Immediately the screen turned black and gobbledegook danced across the screen, line after line, till it filled the display and the lines started to march up the screen. That’ll delay the investigators, he thought but it gave him
little satisfaction. He wondered if he should clear Wesley’s computer but discarded the thought quickly. He tried to ring him but the message storage on both phones was now full and he was cut off. It was every man for himself. He didn’t give the earthquake a second thought, his mind was completely absorbed in his own plight. There was nothing left to do but wait.

  The thought of waiting hung heavy and he could feel himself falling into the jagged blackness of despair. He moved in restless agitation as if looking for escape. It wasn’t his fault, he told himself, he’d only done what Wesley had instructed but deep down he knew that no-one would believe him. Did it all have to end like this, he wondered as he watched the numbers and letters racing across his screen as the computer erased its storage and memory. It erased all evidence of his careful schemes. All those years of planning lost. He felt like a pathetic nobody, a feeling he’d never experienced before and he didn’t like it. They’d still get him, he thought, as surely as his red fighter had hunted the Gouramis fry. It was the end of the road and he had no plan B, even his passport was in Police custody. He had no savings and no future outside of a prison term and a lengthy incarceration. No-one could help him now, not the absent Wesley or even that coward George. He felt the children on his wall jeering at him, their big eyes glowered accusingly and their smiles had turned into sneers. He pulled them off the wall and shoved them out of sight into a drawer. In his haste some of the picture glass broke but he ignored the sound. He could see the pale images of their frames on the blank wall but at least eyes no longer stared. He sat on at his desk, no longer seeing the computer screen or the fish tank growing brighter as the light faded. He picked up the pens and examined them carefully before placing them back on the tray. His screen was blank and he shivered. It had finished its cleanup and he turned it off. He forced himself to move from the desk. Hanna had disappeared sometime before and he was glad that he was alone. There was no-one to gloat.

  He fed the fish, then grabbed a box from Hanna’s stationary cupboard and emptied his drawers. He left his laptop and the tray of pens on the desk and walked away. At the door he looked back. A steady stream of bubbles rose from the little diver and his red fighter was on parade. The room already had an abandoned feel.

  CHAPTER 72

  On the second day after the quake, George joined the volunteers looking for survivors while Pania stayed behind with Edith. She was still feeling fragile. She’d never reported for work and doubted if even Parsons would carry out his threat in the circumstances. Somehow Parsons and the Forum were irrelevant. She was determined to count her blessings and practise being thankful. She turned to Edith.

  “I don’t know what we would have done without you Edith. I never imagined buying my little house would lead me to such wonderful people.”

  “It’s nothing Pania dear – you would do the same. It’s George you should be thanking, not me. Without his help you might have been dead. It was lucky he was staying with you.”

  “Wasn’t it just? It wasn’t planned. Spur of the moment.” She paused looking confused. “What was I saying?”

  “How you didn’t plan for George to stay.”

  “Yeah. Yesterday - was it yesterday? No, the day before, he arrived in Wellington and for once I wasn’t there. I observed his arrival on the new security cameras. He looked shattered when he came off that plane. His flight had been delayed but looking at him you might have assumed he’d had a hard night partying. Poor man, usually he can’t sleep on the flight so his body clock is all messed up when he gets here. He looked even more rumpled that usual.

  “I’d arranged to show him my new house so on top of a busy day, he came to dinner. Suddenly he fell asleep, there at the table in the middle of talking. It was clear that he was too tired to make it safely back to the hotel so he bunked down in the spare room. That’s the last thing I can remember.” She shook her head as if to try to clear her thoughts. “I must have done the usual things, cleared the table done the dishes, banked up the fire. I always put the fireguard up so I’m sure I must have done that too but I can’t remember. Perhaps it will come back to me. You’re right. I’m lucky to be alive, lucky George was here. I wish I could remember it all.”

  “It’ll come back, just give it time. George too needs time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I reckon George is falling for you,” Edith teased.

  “No, what makes you say that? We just happen to work together but we’re good friends.”

  “Both Rex and I saw how concerned he was for you and how he cared for you. I would go as far as to say he’s in love. I’ve seen how his face lights up when he sees you and his eyes follow you when he thinks no-one is watching. He may not know it yet. The shock of the quake is overwhelming but I’ve seen it before. Disasters and traumatic events tend to shuffle things of importance to the front.”

  Pania shook her head. “It’s just the circumstances. We’ve both had a lot to cope with but when he gets back to the States he’ll forget me. On his last visit he told Parsons, he’s my boss, that he hadn’t met Miss Right yet. This was to be his last visit anyway.” She sighed.

  “Maybe he just didn’t know that he’d met her and now he’s starting to realise. That’s what my intuition tells me. I guess time will tell.”

  Pania frowned dubiously and Edith changed the subject.

  “Why did you choose policing as a career?”

  Pania explained how she’d enrolled as a foundation student when the Pre-Police Proficiency Certificate was first offered.

  “When I completed the certificate, I was accepted as a police recruit. It was my twenty-first birthday the day before I started Police College training. Nineteen weeks later and started walking the beat in Levin.”

  “Did you like that?”

  “Oh yes! It felt as if all my Christmases had come together. I was in my element. It was very rewarding work. I was transferred around a bit and some years later I saw a vacancy with the Diplomatic Protection Squad.”

  “Is that where you work now?”

  “Yes, I’m employed by the DPS. It was a change of direction and I was ready for a something fresh. I’ve so enjoyed the new challenges, the variety of work and the people I now have the opportunity to meet and protect. I’m not allowed to name names but I’ve been close to some amazing people, famous people. On occasion I’ve been known to pinch myself to prove I’m not dreaming. Sometimes I’m assigned directly to an individual and at other times I’m responsible for the security of a special event. That’s how I met George. We’re both on the Forum Security committee. He represents UN interests. None of it matters now. God I’ve hardly given it a thought! I hope all the delegates survived.”

  When she felt able to face it, Edith took Pania to see the damage. She wandered sadly through the burnt cottage. The sight of her wardrobe toppled onto her bed reinforced her wonder at having survived at all. Yet even in the shattered house her sense of humour helped her. Her blackened fridge, washing machine and cupboards full of smashed crockery and glassware had all relocated, rearranged in the strangest of places but standing firm in the middle of the mess was her hot water cylinder still strapped in place.

  Later she had dragged Rex over.

  “Look,” she joked. “Why didn’t you tell me to strap everything else? You should at least have told me to anchor the bed then it wouldn’t have ended up under the wardrobe! And if I’d strapped the wardrobe then the bed would still be in one piece. You need to update your recommendations.”

  Rex had laughed with her. “I’ll bring up your suggestions at the Civil Defence debrief Pania.”

  They needed something to lighten the horror. It was another day before George and Edith agreed Pania could volunteer. Like George she felt driven to help, desperate to make a difference and assist where possible with the rescue efforts.

  Pania joined the two police women at the local station. They visited the makeshift relief centres hurriedly set up in undamaged schools. She held hands, made cup
s of tea, bandaged cuts and listened to traumatised survivors. Her very visible bruises gave her words of comfort meaning and empathy. She played with the children and reassured them during the aftershocks.

  George joined the teams digging through the rubble of collapsed buildings, carrying the bodies and the survivors out. For the most part it was heartbreaking work. There were more bodies than survivors and they worked in a race against time. Yet every survivor found gave them hope. It made the hard labour worthwhile. The mood of cooperation and selfless service inspired him to greater effort.

  At the end of each day they returned exhausted to Edith and Rex’s house and shared the basic meals Edith prepared from the emergency food caches. In the evening they bunked down on borrowed bedding. Lying on the lounge floor brought back forgotten memories and lent a degree of casual intimacy to their conversations. They talked about their pasts. Pania remembered sleeping on the marae with her cousins, Mira and Cheryl. She told him about sun filled days and the fun they’d had in the surf. George recounted his days as a Scout. Both were acutely aware of each other.

  All week the community waited for outside help to arrive. George found time to get Pania’s tires replaced and Rex had been busy cleaning off the paintwork. By mutual agreement they kept the vandalism secret. Finally CD officials reached them. Things started to happen. A temporary water tank was left at the end of the street and refilled daily. Port-a-loos sprouted on the kerbside and food parcels began arriving. Communal meals became unnecessary and people stopped gathering in Rex and Edith’s lounge. Life started to return to normal. It wasn’t long before Rex and Edith could hand over their responsibilities to the professionals.