While Max and the Taylor women waited for dawn in a gully by the road, the earth continued to turn. Elsewhere in the universe, other suns would rise over other vistas, and Max wondered if little green men also worried about the decisions they had made the day before. His own had been impulsive, and fatal, though not for him.
A police car’s headlights interrupted his contemplation of universal doubt as it drove down the emergency lane to reach the action further along the road. Max stumbled back down the embankment to avoid being seen. He could just make out the starlit shadows where the Taylor women sat on a log. As he approached, Cathy gently removed her daughter’s trembling hand from her own and came to meet him.
‘How is she?’ Max asked quietly. Phenalla’s earlier euphoria had evaporated. She had been gazing at the ground for over an hour. He wondered when she had last been medicated for her nervous condition.
‘This is normal for Alla,’ Cathy replied, then smiled. ‘Actually, better than normal – just colder.’ Despite her own bare legs, Cathy had given Phenalla her bath robe. ‘Must we wait much longer for that Hess monster!’
There was no sign of Miss Hess, and a ground hugging fog had risen to make their gully even bleaker. Above them on the highway, cars and trucks continued to arrive, only to find their path blocked by a massive crater and the two semi-trailers it had swallowed. Soon the queue of stranded motorist stretched out in both directions.
With the approaching dawn, Max finally recognised their location as the extremely shallow Lake George. This side of the lake was currently dry and being used for grazing, though the sheep were nowhere to be seen. It was said to be haunted by the souls of lost travellers when empty and by the souls of very lost sailors when full. Ghostly voices could be heard even now, but these were from the emergency workers trying to sort out the mess.
‘You could ask someone up there to take you home,’ Max suggested.
Cathy laughed. ‘In this condition?’ The dust raised by the explosion had combined with a light mist to cover them in a thin layer of mud. Much finger combing had failed to restore her wig. ‘I’m more worried that someone I know will see me so ragged and dirty. I have a reputation for impeccable style to maintain.’
Max grinned. He could believe her claim, but doubted she had anything to worry about. Even her husband may not have recognised her in her current state.
‘Cathy. Could you explain something?’ He thought he saw her tense as she waited for his query. ‘Just before we left Betsy, you said, “Not again.”’
‘Did I?’
Max nodded. ‘Maybe you’ve been in a war zone before?’
She frowned and wiped some mud from her nose. ‘Déjà vu – the belief that things have happened before. I’ve been suffering from it lately. A symptom of my disease, or maybe fate has only a limited repertoire. I’m tired of this play, even if some of the actors are different. I thought meeting you might have changed the ending, but today’s events seem to be following the same old script, more’s the pity.’
Before Max could compose an intelligent question to Cathy’s cryptic answer, a very sombre Miss Hess returned. ‘Come,’ she grunted and turned away.
They were led across the road, through the parked vehicles and the police. The officers might have objected to a tribe of mud people crossing their road if they had not been distracted by the three giant shadows gliding down the road just above the tree tops. Only as they banked out over the lake did it become apparent that these were some silent mutation on the typically noisy helicopter. The aircraft turned on their search beams, and, even in a hover, there was only a whisper from their rotor blades.
Four flares erupted from the muddy paddock in front of Miss Hess, and what might have been shrubs in the near dark turned into soldiers defending a landing area. Their weapons were aimed in all directions, but no one dared to threaten Miss Hess.
‘What a circus,’ she said while they waited for the helicopters to land. ‘This is not the discrete retrieval operation we intended. By tomorrow this incident will be reported as another sad accident with two fatalities that can be attributed to the recent nano-quake. Not that anyone cares about dead insurance salesmen, fake or otherwise. And I doubt they’ll mention the Morris-Minor destroyed by a highly classified photon torpedo.’
‘Yes, a sad loss,’ said Cathy. ‘I’m sorry about your classic motor.’ Max couldn’t tell if her sympathy was genuine.
‘Between you and me, Mrs Taylor, Betsy was due for retirement. Hers was a good death. I couldn’t have asked for better myself. And since it was on-the-job, they’ll have to buy me another. I’ve had my eye on a red Corvette. How does “Hess’s Herbs with Horsepower” sound?’
‘Very discrete.’
Miss Hess laughed. ‘Flamboyance is often the best camouflage. Your colourful wig made me think you worked along similar lines. Do let me know if you ever want to join the flower business. I could use an apprentice.’
Max couldn’t quite hear Cathy’s reply, but the words ‘your age’ were mentioned.
The first of the helicopters landed, and more soldiers surged from its belly to bundle Max and the Taylors in foil blankets. No one was game to approach Miss Hess. Then the soldiers covered themselves in a similar fashion and shuffled around like penguins at a rookery.
Max couldn’t believe this attempt at misdirection would fool any of the onlookers, but, in the end, he wasn’t sure himself which helicopter he boarded. The helicopters maintained only a light touch on the lake’s dry surface, so when he was pushed under the strong down-draft of their blades, he relied blindly on the goggled soldiers to guide him into a cabin.
A soldier sat on either side of him, and before he knew it, they had handcuffed him to his seat. He could have told them he had no intention of escaping – not with Miss Hess sitting opposite, grinning at his discomfort.
Max was further annoyed to discover his damp clothing coated in grass seeds. Then the mother and daughter were pushed into the cabin. The wet mud had been augmented with dead grass to give them a primordial look.
The door to their cabin slammed shut and the aircraft lurched forward, catching nearly everyone unprepared. Only Miss Hess – no doubt trained in many ancient martial arts – held on with any dignity. The engines screamed and Max was thrust down into his seat by the rapid ascent.
There was no need for blindfolds, for there were no windows. Max’s motion sickness quickly returned. Cathy and Phenalla huddled together and exchanged frightened glances. The events of the last few hours appeared to have sapped Cathy’s normally indomitable strength, but, after the helicopter’s raucous turbines calmed down, she leaned towards him to speak.
‘Maybe those men you met last night were right about all this business,’ she shouted.
‘About what?’ he shouted back. The soldiers beside him listened with interest.
‘That Australia isn’t ready for super powers.’
Max nodded grimly, though he wasn’t sure what particular aspect of his arrest had given her this new insight. Half an hour later they landed in an anonymous sheep paddock. The sun had just crested the surrounding hills, and the mini-bus, which he had last seen outside his Canberra home, was waiting for them.
A couple of fighter jets streaked over while they were being transferred – possibly the same ancient F35s that had belatedly destroyed the killer drone. Max had heard it rumoured there were not many of the Australian fighter planes operational, due to faulty ejection seats or “premature ejectulation seats” as the crash survivors fondly called them. The wealthier parts of the world had moved on from the “fighter jet”, preferring the stealthier and more nimble autonomous aircraft. Without the ability to build their own aircraft, Australia was forced to fly these antiques. Which raised the question, how had they had managed to so easily shoot down the drone?
The soldiers removed Max’s handcuffs, and he followed the women towards the bus, only to be cuffed again by his new handlers. These men looked older, tougher and more mercenary than the soldiers. They were also far less polite.
‘You’ll need to wear these,’ said one of their new guards, handing thick dark hoods and bulky earmuffs to the two Taylor women.
‘At least the equipment has improved,’ Cathy commented as she tested the quality of the fabric.
‘The Colonel insists on the best, and the worst,’ Miss Hess cackled. ‘I’m sorry I can’t deliver you in person. I need to rustle up some more roses before a wedding this afternoon. I’ll leave you in the unsafe hands of his men. Give Driesk my regards.’
Cathy snorted and followed Phenalla into the bus. Further communication was cut when she donned the muffs and hood. Despite their differences, Max thought Cathy and Miss Hess might have developed a working friendship – if they didn’t kill each other first with their razor sharp tongues.
Miss Hess held Max back. ‘In years to come, after they declassify my biography, you’ll be able to tell the grand-kids the story of how your mother-in-law was subdued by the infamous Harriet Hess.’
Where did Miss Hess get such a crazy idea like that? He might be closer to Phenalla’s age than Cathy’s, but her daughter was a poor shadow of her mother. Still, he could imagine Cathy giving her future son-in-law a hard time. Max laughed at the irony of their current situation.
To correct Miss Hess, he said, ‘Cathy may want to kill me, but I’ve not married her daughter.’
‘Oh, my mistake. Well, remember Hess’s Hasty Herbs when you do.’ She pushed him forward. ‘Call me if you need Mrs Taylor neutralised in the meantime.’
‘How would I contact you?’ Max didn’t hear her reply, as one of the goons fitted his muffs and hood with ham-fisted efficiency. Later he found her business card in his pocket. It promised a ten percent discount on the first four deaths. But would it also apply to mother-in-law control?
The earmuffs were “smart-muffs” – cancelling external noise while generating a sound determined to annoy the wearer. In his case, the muffs played something that could be titled “Victorian Machine-shop in War Time”, or it may have been an 80’s heavy-metal band without the vocals. His sense of time and location soon became vague.
After many stops and a steep descent, Max was hauled from the bus and pulled along by his cuffs. The hoods and muffs were removed once they had been herded into a lift. Their guards wore starched blue overalls, military haircuts, and didn’t seem happy – possibly because they liked heavy-metal and the lift only played shopping-centre Muzak.
There were no buttons in the lift, only a camera with a sinister red light glaring at them from above the doors. When these opened, an older man was standing at ease with his arms behind his back. The surly shepherds all came to attention and saluted in a synchronous motion, but their leader didn’t return the gesture.
‘All prisoners accounted for, Sir,’ one guard said far too loudly.
‘Search them.’
Cathy didn’t protest, much. Phenalla only looked disappointed when Confucius was confiscated. The guard responsible chuckled at the chunky old phone and threw it in a bag with Cathy’s ring-phone. With luck, Confucius would disappear into a Government vault and be lost through bureaucracy.
‘Take the ladies to join the others,’ said the leader.
‘Ah, about that. I’ll be acting as his lawyer,’ Cathy said calmly, though where the mud had flaked off, her face looked paler than before. ‘I’ll attend any interviews, and please note, he surrendered voluntarily.’
‘This is not a legal matter, Mrs. Taylor. Just do as you’re asked.’
Cathy inflated to her full height. ‘And who are you to be so far above the law?’
He smiled, ‘Apologies. You may refer to me as the Major, or just Sir if you prefer.’ He didn’t offer a handshake or any other courtesy. Max hated him already.
Phenalla whispered into her mother’s ear, ‘But Miss Hess said we’d meet a Colonel Driesk.’
‘What was that, young lady?’ Dreisk asked.
‘She needs to go,’ Cathy explained hurriedly and pulled her daughter closer.
One of the guards couldn’t help smiling.
‘Something funny, Dagnan?’
The man stiffened and shook his head. ‘No, Sir, Major.’
Dreisk grunted and flicked his head for the women to be taken away.
‘I will complain about this,’ Cathy said over her back.
Max and Driesk were soon alone. He must have considered Max harmless, for he used his right arm, an advanced prosthetic, to unlock Max’s cuffs in a whirr of motors. The left arm stayed firmly behind his back. Then he stared unblinking into Max’s eyes. It was hard not to look away, but Max was determined to measure this new nemesis.
Driesk’s many sinews remained uncovered by flab, but he was maybe too old for a field officer. There were wrinkles around his eyes, and his strong jaw muscles flexed. Either he wanted to bite someone, or he was in pain. Frequent conflicts had been recorded on the broken nose and scared face. He had probably seen and heard it all, but Max doubted Driesk had any idea what he was really dealing with this time. For that matter, neither did Max. The abilities of the AirFondler, and therefore Confucius, were beyond human comprehension.
Driesk finally brought his left arm into sight and waited for Max’s response. Max had maybe expected a hook, but instead the arm was encased above the elbow in a liquid filled tube. The tube was not very long, for inside, the limb looked and acted as if it belonged to a two year old. The little pink hand at the end of the baby-fat arm was currently bashing a toy rattle on the sides of the plastic walls.
‘They say it needs exercise to grow. Okay. You’ve done enough looking. Follow me.’ Driesk led the way along the corridor. ‘Tell me. Would you say we’ve had particularly odd weather for this time of year?’
‘Sure,’ said Max, puzzled.
‘I was in a light helicopter earlier this morning. We were caught in a storm. Very unpleasant. Did you see or hear any of that?’
Max didn’t reply, but Driesk didn’t seem to expect him to.
‘We weren’t actually looking for you at the time, but I ended up hovering over the house you share. Small world isn’t it. Only you weren’t home. Where were you before Mrs Taylor called her husband?’
Max quickly considered possible variations on the truth. He tried not to be distracted by Driesk’s baby arm. ‘I was messing about in a Maker Space over near Fyshwick.’
‘Yes. We know. But I want to know where you were after midnight. We weren’t expecting you to ditch your phone.’ Driesk opened a door and gestured for to enter with his right hand, while his left tried to reach the light switch. The room Max entered had been copied from countless movies. A table fixed to the floor, two chairs – also fixed – and a mirror set into one wall. At least it was warm, dry and minimalist.
‘Max. Can I call you that? Your last TXT to China came from the Maker workshop. We’re still trying to decrypt that message, and we’ve arrested several of the club members to help. Being hackers, they were already on our watch list. They claim to be only interested in building children’s toys. They also claim not to know you. Even your flat mates refuted your existence. Why would they do that?’
‘How are Raquel and Tom?’
Driesk took a seat and pointed to the other. ‘That girl, Raquel. She’s something else. If we had a hundred of her in the army, we could send the rest home.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Anyway, we’ve only just discovered they are, or rather were, your flat mates.’
Max bounced back to his feet. ‘You didn’t need to kill them. They don’t know anything.’
‘No, not any more.’ Driesk gestured for him to sit again. ‘But settle down. They’re both in perfect health. We’ll release them once the amnesia therapy has time to take effect. We use a derivative of Peace. Do you use it by any chance?’
Max shook his head.
‘Good. It works best on virgins. Our blend has the added benefit of loosening tongues, though what comes out can be hard to understand. Tom’s, for instance, is now reciting his financial management text books word for word. It’s a shame he won’t remember them. Raquel, she took longer to talk, but has also forgotten your name. She says she is madly in love with someone called Jake, and that a devil came into the house last night to do an amazing trick with a cheap tablet computer, then vanished without saying goodbye.’
‘If you weren’t looking for me, why were you in my home?’
‘You, and your accomplices, met with a representative of the Paraguayan embassy at a fashionable Cafe yesterday afternoon. I doubt they were in the market for weapons of mass destruction themselves, so we put a tail on them to see who they represent. When they set off a bomb in your dining room, we thought it best to intervene, only we lost track of them until the police caught them half drowned in Lake Burley-Griffin.’
‘You’ve caught the Texan then?’
Driesk raised an eyebrow, ‘Karl? He was there? Interesting. Would you care to elaborate?’
When Max didn’t care to, Driesk continued. ‘We also found a spent air rifle slug in your pocket. I don’t expect you to tell the truth about all of your transactions until we’ve give you some Peace, but could you at least satisfy my curiosity about that lump of metal?’
Max was estimating how long would it take for them to hack into Confucius. Even if they did, it was not as though he had labelled the AirFondler app with the description “Unlimited power here”. Would they figure it out if he said nothing at all? Of course they would.
‘I need some assurances before I tell you anything,’ he said.
Driesk smiled down at his left arm. It was making shadow puppets on the table surface. ‘On any other day, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m rather busy just now.’ He stood up and his left arm had a short tantrum which he ignored. ‘You want assurances? I can’t tell you this will end well for you, Max. Sometimes we must counter evil with evil. But I can tell you that your life, and those of your colleagues, will become increasingly difficult until we know what secrets you have sold, why you sold them, and, most importantly, who risked a high-tech drone to eliminate you?’
If Max had sold any secrets, he thought the buyer might want to erase him to protect their identity – but he thought it wise not to say that. If only he had destroyed Confucius while he had the chance, he could have let them do what they like with him.
‘You have a mole.’ Max said. ‘No one else knew we were on that road.’
‘Touché.’ Dreisk laughed. ‘You’re a smart man, Mr. Clerk. You and this mole must know the importance of Doctor Taylor’s discovery – maybe better than he does – and he is very enthusiastic.’
‘I need time to think,’ Max said.
‘Fine.’ Driesk opened the door, and two soldiers outside jumped back to their posts. Between them, a man in a white coat kneeled beside his bag on the floor while he prepared a hypodermic needle. Driesk just shook his head. ‘We call it stewing when the prisoner needs time to think. The doctor here will provide the gravy. You just sit still and I’ll go and see if I can stop the major powers from nuking Oz for a day or two.’ He hesitated again. ‘Oh, and don’t worry. We’ll be fine down here. They’ve not made a bomb that can reach us. Nothing so effective as Doctor Taylor’s nano-quake weapon. Hopefully he can scare them off with another demonstration before they make up their minds to attack.’ His left hand made a very rude gesture behind his back as he walked off.