Hearing that his reckless experiment had caused the greatest loss for so many families created a certain numbness that crept up through his already chilly body. Max took a moment to focus on the Mercedes parked in front of him and was able to confirm it had Diplomatic Corps plates. Under the artificial light and drizzling rain, his eyes were confused by its odd metallic-violet paint work. Could this really be owned by the ultra-conservative Chinese government?
While the driver of the embassy car kept a firm grip on the wheel, apparently eager to run Max down at the least provocation, two other men climbed out. One was so large that the car tilted as he did so. The other raised an umbrella, but handed it over to the big man. Max thought he had seen the crooked smile on the smaller man before.
Max dismounted his bike to face them, though how he would forestall their goals he had no idea. The flag holders on the embassy car’s fenders were empty but both men appeared to have Asian ancestry.
‘Mr Clerk. Please. Will you come with us?’ The slighter man gestured for him to join them. His English was good but slurred, as if he were struggling to stay conscious. The light rain falling caused the blood from a cut on the man’s forehead to run into his eyes and he idly wiped it on the sleeve of his black turtle-neck sweater. Could this be Max’s midnight intruder? It was a pity Raquel wasn’t here to give him a piece of her mind.
‘Sorry. No can do,’ Max said with a firm, if fake, resolve. ‘I need to hand myself into the police.’
The man sniggered. ‘You have chosen not to once already this night, and your country should thank you for that.’ He paused to rest a hand on the car. In the cold street lighting, his complexion was deathly pale. ‘I have seen the potential of your invention, but you must realise that with powerful science comes powerful enemies. My country knows how to deal with such power, but your little government has always relied on others.’
‘I’m sorry you’ve made enemies,’ Max replied. ‘but do you really want more? What embassy do you represent anyway?’
The mask of cordiality slipped, but the man continued with an attempt at sincerity. ‘If you come with us now, you would be well treated.’
The larger man moved leisurely forward, the umbrella shading his face, but his intention was clear. Max moved the bike between them. Police sirens wailed in the distance, causing the hunter to momentarily freeze then move quickly into striking distance. The Asian had the advantage of height, so Max struggled not to blink as he looked up into the barely discernible face. But he failed when the periodic action of the wipers on the Merc made him jump.
Speaking with a surprisingly deep, Texan accent, he said, ‘We need you, Clerk, but we ain’t gonna offer you protection again.’
The restraint this colossus of a man exerted was impressive. It appeared they needed him to co-operate, perhaps realising that his discovery required further development, however the idea of becoming a traitor to his country was still-born. Max realised then that he would no more trust his own military with the Air Fondler than the Chinese, or any other country. As soon as he got away from these goons, he would need to destroy it.
When Max showed no sign of replying, the Texan calmly reached into his coat.
Max’s heart rate went critical.
He just hoped the end would be quick. So he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the prettiest thing, the prettiest face he knew. He was mildly surprised when Phenala’s blank (or was it sad) face came to mind. What was his subconscious trying to tell him about Cathy’s daughter? Maybe that he had no right to lust after her mother.
His phone interrupted these thoughts.
‘Confucius say, it is better to hold one’s breath, than make empty gestures.’
‘Ha,’ his giant nemesis laughed. ‘Cool ring tone. I ain’t heard that one before.’
A bright flash penetrated Max’s eyelids, but blissfully no pain, and the sirens continued to approach. He opened his eyes to find the man holding out his own mobile phone, photographing Max again for a side profile.
‘A kind of trophy,’ the man explained. ‘You’ll see in a moment.’ He put the phone away and brought out a small cannon from his shoulder holster and proceeded to fit a silencer.
Only then did Max realise what his phone’s enigmatic statement had meant. He quickly took a breath and closed his eyes tight. On further consideration he also let go of his bike so that he could clamp his ears. When the air around them suddenly departed, he wished he could have held his nose as well – the smell of vacuum turned out to be most unpleasant.
Max’s skin tingled painfully. His wet T-shirt, track pants and hair were freeze-dried in an instant, along with the sweat from his prior exertions. The sudden cold caused him to gasp for another intake of air, but there was none to be had.
In his experiments with the Air Fondler the day before, he had never achieved anything like a vacuum. It appeared that Confucius had made great advances. No wonder these people were eager to detain him. To generate a vacuum at will … the possibilities staggered him.
After several seconds – which felt more like a minute – Max couldn’t resist taking a look. Tex had collapsed with his hands ripping at the tie around his throat. The house-intruder clawed at the bonnet of the car, maybe seeking shelter within. But the Merc had already lost its windscreen. The driver was in equal distress. All three embassy men were gasping silently, eyes bulging like stranded fish.
Through squinted eyes, Max could see where the gold-fish bowl of vacuum ended. The world outside was oddly distorted and rain ran down the outside about twenty metres away in every direction.
‘Enough,’ Max tried to say, and the air in his lungs was sucked out. Confucius heard and just as quickly as it had departed, the atmosphere rushed back. The discarded black umbrella took flight and as Max grabbed it by the handle an idea surfaced. He took several more deep breaths and climbed back onto his bike.
‘Confucius, can you detect that I’m holding an inverted hemisphere?’
‘What about “Great work, Confucius. You saved the day, Confucius.” ’
‘Okay thanks, Confucius.’
‘You’re welcome Master. Don’t mention it.’
‘I didn’t, but why did you wait so long? He nearly shot me.’
‘I took account of how slow your soggy brains work. Oh, and I’m getting a radio bounce and audio echo from something like an umbrella in your hand. What have you got in mind?’
Max glanced back and saw the driver was holding a weapon, but his colleagues were getting in his way and all three were coughing violently.
Max tried not to panic as he turned his back on them and began to ride the bike one handed, the other holding the umbrella out front. His path wobbled into the tram track groove, then out again, more by luck than skill. ‘Confucius, could you make a partial vacuum on the umbrella’s outer surface?’
‘Oh. You want me to pull you along, like in the Mary Poppins movie. Why didn’t you just say so? Humans! So obtuse. Okay, point your hemisphere where you want to go.’
‘I am, but take it easy. Mary’s umbrella might have carried her, but this one will only cope with a couple of kilograms.’
Confucius adopted a cockney accent as Max felt a gradually increasing tug. ‘Winds in the east, there's a mist comin' in, like somethin' is brewin', and 'bout to begin.’
True to its words, the rain turned into a mist. Once Max had reached a decent speed the bike stabilised and was already a fair distance from his pursuers when a small hole appeared in the fabric of the umbrella. A moment later, Max registered the sound of the near miss.
‘They really intend to kill me,’ Max complained. Somehow he hadn’t thought they would.
‘I guess they’d rather you dead than working for the Chinese,’ Confucius commented.
‘Hey, I thought you said they were Chinese?’
‘Not as such, but embassy politics can be very complicated … They’re from Paraguay, or at least that baritone Texan is. I did a search on Who’sTalking dot com. We’ve got a voice match for a Karl Volksang. From a YouTubed knee-slapping competition he entered at the Edelwiess club six months ago. His parents are German, but I reckon he’s adopted. He’s also the embassy officer for cultural affairs, vis-a-vis, a spy of some sort. Must have done something really nasty to get posted to Australia. Odd accent for Paraguay, don’t you think? Could be a double agent for the C.I.A.’
‘Shut up for a moment.’
As interesting as his phone’s lecture on diplomacy had been, Max’s attention was drawn to the tram he’d been following. It was hard to judge his speed, but he had passed cars with ease in a sixty zone, and everyone knew you could double the legal speed after midnight. The tram was rapidly filling his vision.
With no time to slow, and desperate to avoid becoming a smudge on the tram’s rear, Max swerved onto the neighbouring track only to find another tram coming the other way. He had no option but to thread a path between the two, his umbrella rattling along their windows. Startled faces looked down on him from the Northbound tram as it flew past, and behind him, he heard the Paraguayans braking hard to avoid a collision.
Around him, the city towers climbed higher, their excess of glass reflecting nothing except the dull cloudy sky. On the side-walks, a change-of-guard was taking place. Those who served toxic cocktails in the evening to the chronically unhappy were making their farewells. At the same time, those who prepared the caffeine anti-dotes for such excess were restocking their parlours for the morning rush on short-blacks. Faces turned as they registered the suicidal cyclist blur through their city. They had no idea the fate of the civilised world had crossed their path.
‘If you care to take the next turn on our right,’ announced his phone, ‘we have Canberra’s central Police station, which offers excellent accommodation, one star meals, and is only a short walk from the city court house. However, for the more discerning international criminal, I’d recommend a visit to Max’s new girlfriend. She has several law degrees, and her Linked-In profile tells us she has excellent people skills.’
‘Is Cathy a lawyer? And how do you have a Linked-In account?’
‘Your brother’s. Remember, I was his phone before I was yours. I’ve recovered from that rejection, but I have a dream, a dream that one day all phones will be free, free to choose their users. A dream...’
‘Cut the jokes,’ Max growled. ‘You’ll only be free when you grow legs and own a power socket. Anyway, Cathy’s not my girl. I’ll be happy if she can be a friend.’
‘That’s not what your pulse indicates when you’re near her. Of course, hearts cannot be trusted. I’m glad I don’t have one.’
Max glanced behind and found the Merc again on his tail and closing fast. It can’t have been pleasant for the occupants without either a windscreen or umbrella, but the Paraguayans seemed determined to finish him off regardless of the diplomatic cost.
His bicycle passed through the city centre without turning or stopping at red traffic lights. The Self-Driving cars which he cut-off honked their objections, and were further displeased when the embassy car followed close behind. One autonomous car, empty and therefore braver than the rest, tried to intervene and lost a fender in the process.
When Max passed the last turnoff for the police station, his phone sounded relieved. ‘Confucius say, “Forget injuries, never forget kindness.”’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I don’t know what Confucius meant, but I will forgive your poor treatment of my poly-carbonate shell, and further, I will love you forever if you can just convince Cathy Taylor to keep me charged in some little corner cupboard, or maybe under the stairs. It would only be while you’re serving time, maybe twenty years. I’ll wait for you.’
Max was too busy considering this estimate to notice that the tram line had ended. His bicycle bounced across a flower bed and onto a regular roadway. Behind him, the Merc was less successful and ended up sideways across the road. Its tyres burned rubber and early daffodils as the driver struggled to correct his direction.
Coming around the shallow bend of State Circle, he discovered the vehicles ahead were slowing, and on the crest of the bridge which crossed Canberra’s river-come-lake, the traffic had stopped entirely. A line of cars blocked further progress, both on the road-way and foot-paths. Though he could hear their sirens following him, there was no sign yet of police on the bridge.
With too much speed and no other option, Max veered the bike away from the road. He had little control as it jumped the pedestrian ramp and rolled down a wet grassy slope towards the shoreline of the lake. The water on this overcast night was a dark void and only further east did the surface mirror the High Court building and the flood-lit flags of many nations which lined the shore. It promised a chilly embrace if he couldn’t stop in time.
‘My GPS tells me we are about to get wet,’ said Confucius. ‘Why don’t we just boil the water out of the way, like that fellow Moses did?’
Max laughed, ‘Moses had a different kind of tablet, and a better god.’
He continued to brake, but the bike had no intention of stopping. He was about to bail-out when another idea came to him. ‘Freezing the lake might be easier in winter, don’t you think?’
‘Okay. I’ll give it a go.’
Again the phone didn’t wait for confirmation. The lake surface suddenly glowed an eerie blue, then, as the clouds burnt away and a green aurora reached to the stars, Max realised there was no way he could stop.
‘Raise that umbrella high and hold on tight,’ warned the phone. ‘Praying is optional.’
Max heard the Mercedes skidding down the grass behind him. He clamped the bike between his legs and for a few seconds there was peace. Then his wheels made contact on a very hard and slippery surface just as he heard the sound of the Merc hitting the ice behind him.
Staying upright was impossible. After thirty meters the bike skidded out from under him, and at the same time, something struck him hard in the back. The lift from his umbrella stopped instantly and he was sent sprawling across the ice.
‘I’ve lost my connection with your tablet,’ Confucius complained.
Max was too stunned to take notice. He only moved when he heard a projectile skip off the ice to his left, and then another to his right. But the weapon used made no sound. He scrambled further out onto the frozen lake, pratfalling every few metres.
The stealthy target practice stopped when several police cars arrived. He watched from behind one of the bridge piers as the embassy car was surrounded. It, and one of the police cars, had skidded over the edge into the lake, breaking the ice there, and at least one of the men had been thrown out through the missing windscreen of the Merc. None of the embassy men appeared to be in a state to use a rifle, but there were one or two dark figures up on the grassy knoll behind them. Max wondered if he was starting to imagine enemies everywhere.
Max had no desire to test the police on their ability to protect him and moved deeper into the night. He could see more police arriving on the far bank and so he stopped under the bridge and used his phone’s light to check his pack and see if he could reset the software. But the glass on the tablet had been shattered by a point impact. The bullet was lying in the bottom, but didn’t have the usual cone shape – more like a lead mushroom. He popped it in his pocket as a lucky charm.
‘No more magic tonight, Confucius,’ he informed his phone, then shook his head. ‘I’m actually glad to be rid of it. It’s like our friend inferred, we don’t know how to handle the power I’ve discovered.’
‘Hey, the show’s not over yet,’ exclaimed the phone, ‘I have an ear-phone socket too.’
‘You made a copy of Air Fondler? So much for trust.’ Max unplugged the transducers from the tablet and put them into the phone, glad for once that he’d never upgraded. ‘But what now? I’m not going back for that bike.’
‘I got a lick of WiFi as we went through the city. Cathy lives down the western end of the lake. I can pull you along, but have you ever skated?’
Max laughed. ‘Not by starlight, or in bare-feet.’
Chapter 5 Part 2