“Don’t think it would happen that quick. But I understand you wanting to make me feel good.” She tapped her cheek.
Jack got the hint and brushed the scraps off his face. “You look like you have news.”
Cath pulled up a chair and placed her tablet device on Jack’s desk.
“A call came in to PoliceLink and one of the client service officers forwarded some information on to our team. You want to listen or read the transcript?”
“Listen.”
Cath looked around the office and picked up the tablet device. “Let’s go into one of the meeting rooms.”
Jack grabbed his sandwich and followed Cath into the nearest room.
Cath closed the door and they got comfortable and she started the recording.
“Hello, PoliceLink, how can I help you?”
“Ah hi. I just had an encounter with a person you have an alert out on.”
“Which alert was that, sir?”
“I think he was referred to as the Orange Man.”
“Thank you. Where was the encounter?”
“In my hire car. I drive a private limousine, and this man wanted me to take him to Noosa. About three-quarters of the way there, he started making some idle threats about not reporting the trip to authorities. I think he believed a private car wouldn’t have the same security measures as a taxi or Uber.”
A soft cough.
“He’s changed his appearance—shaved off the goatee, and his face is pale. That was the giveaway. Anyway, I challenged the jerk and he pulled a knife on me and threatened my family. Said they could be in trouble if I spoke to the authorities.”
“That’s quite serious, sir.”
“Not really. I can handle myself. I don’t think he’s the full quid. You know, a little slow, a bit crazy, wacky. He took a photo of my ID and believed that would lead him to my family. My surname is Smith, so it’s going to take him a long time. The alien invasion may be over by the time he finds us. Sorry about the bad humour, but it was sort of connected to his threat. You’ll hear it on the recording—”
“Did you say ‘recording’? Did you record the conversation?”
“Yes. Standard practice. Did you want me to give a copy of the recording to you?”
“Yes. We can come get it.”
“No, it’s okay. I can drop it off in Police Beat in town. The one near King George Square. That okay?”
“Excellent.”
“I dropped the man off at Sunshine Plaza. Maybe half an hour ago. I think he’s still heading to Noosa. I followed him a bit and he ended up getting on a bus, the 620.”
“You didn’t need to do that, sir. We don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“It’s okay. We need people like him off the street.”
* * *
The final leg of Wiley’s trip wasn’t overly risky. He was far enough from the city to be off the radar, and it wasn’t likely that people would recognise him from the police alert. He avoided wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses—didn’t want to set off any triggers. No one stared at him as he got on the bus, but he wondered how the limo driver recognised him. Maybe it was the chin dimple his parents passed down to him? No. That used to be covered by his goatee. He balled his hands into fists. He should’ve asked the driver what gave him away.
After locating some free tourist maps, he’d jumped on a local service bus line. As they passed through Coolum, he saw a sign advertising a charity shop. He looked down at his jeans. Too thick and hot for this weather, and they did make him stand out in the crowd. He wanted to wear shorts, just not the pair hiding in his backpack, they were thickish also. The Press Stop button was in easy reach so he pressed it. After a few moments, the bus stopped. Wiley got off and headed back to find the charity shop.
He came out of the charity shop a short time later and headed towards a toilet block across the road. There was plenty of room in the disability toilet cubicle to change into his new outfit. He sat on the toilet seat and took of his tattered runners, and replaced his jeans and shirt with dark blue Quicksilver boardshorts and a plain white T-shirt with a small surfboard logo near the top. On with the flip-flops, and carrying a black baseball cap, he came out of the toilet block, a new man. No jeans, no runners, no socks. He felt lighter and a lot cooler.
He spotted a bus travelling on the main street and tried to run to the bus stop, but his new flip-flops slowed him down. One passenger saw him running and appeared to try and get the attention of the bus driver, but the bus didn’t stop. It was a busy street, so it made sense that he didn’t pull over. No probs. He needed to get some food anyway.
Thirty minutes later, he was back on a bus. He checked where he was going on the tourist map and got off the bus a few stops before the main stop. Best to be cautious, as he’d seen some police cars go past. Maybe the limousine driver had blabbed. If so, updated police alerts will be coming.
He needed to change his image again, maybe grow a beard. He needed a place and time to do that, and that was coming. A bike with a For Sale ticket on it leaned on a wire fence he was walking past. He decided to borrow it. No one came running after him, so he had a brief relaxing bike ride before he discarded the bike in a vacant block not far from the park he was looking for.
He’d located the park on the tourist map, and it appeared as the map said it would. There was an outdoor gym shaded by a large gum tree. An older couple were using the equipment. A lady and her dog rested on a blanket on a sloping grassed area. Some galahs were feeding on grass seeds nearby. The dog watched the birds but was restrained by a leash. There was a man sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper, a strange sight this day and age. Wiley sat down on a vacant park bench near the entrance to the park and pretended to be using his phone.
There were enough people and activity going on around for him to blend into the background and not be mistaken for some riff-raff and let him do what he’d planned, to watch over his friend Sheila’s house. Her property backed onto the park, and she could access the park through a gate in her rear fence. The elevated view from the park allowed watchers to see into her backyard. He needed to know if she still lived there and still lived alone. He assumed she still lived there because it was the address he’d been given to forward mail on to—not that he received any mail anyway.
Sheila came out into her garden and threw scraps into the chook pen. Seeing her again brought mixed emotions and the desire to flee. The scree call of a galah as it flew by brought his senses back.
She looked fit and well as she wandered through her veggie patch. Her hair seemed greyish, but that would be due to her not being concerned about how she looked. He always liked that about her. They’d had a relationship for a while before she decided to move away from the city. It was good timing, as he’d been finding it hard to cover his drug habits and she’d been diving too much into New Age philosophies.
But she had introduced him to the aura glasses. Not that he’d tell her what he got up to with them. He smiled at that thought and also of the opportunity of some intimacy with her. She may warm to him, knowing he was off the drugs—that is, if she believed him. He went cold turkey because getting rid of amber people appealed to him more than drugs. That was the key—finding something better than what he already had. The drive to kill amber people was stronger, more enjoyable, than his drug addiction. The thought frightened him.
If things were as he imagined, she would be off the grid. Unwired, offline, avoiding the ‘noise of the world’. She once referred to what she was doing as a digital detox. He didn’t want to detox, so they separated on good terms. Well, sort of. They’d travelled down different roads, listening to different drums.
But their paths did cross when it came to Christians. Sheila believed Christians were too narrow-minded, that many paths led to God, not just Jesus. She held Jesus in high regard as a great spiritual teacher—just one of many. Wiley shuddered at the thought of Jesus. Jesus scared him and he still wasn’t sure why.
