Sarge just needed to throw in some nods and hmms here and there to contribute to the conversation. As they neared Noosa, Bruce turned to questions.

“What sort of security systems do you think they’d have in place to stop drones entering stadiums or large crowds?” Bruce flicked the indicator to head towards the Noosa turnoff.

Sarge looked at a sign advertising the Eumundi Markets. He’d been there years ago—a great place for local artists to show off and sell their wares. Wouldn’t be surprised if they sold drones there now—toy ones at least. He’d been working in the Counter-Terrorism Investigation Group for five years now, and drones were a subject that cropped up on numerous occasions. He’d never thought he’d be involved in a plot to use drones to cause harm, but the terrorist group needed to be dealt with. Not everyone in the branch agreed with him, but he believed Christians were a terrorist group.

“Hello, Earth calling Mars?”

“Sorry, mate. Daydreaming.” Sarge straightened up in his seat. “Stadium security can shoot drones down.” He glanced sideways and gave Bruce a wink.  “But for a big public event, they normally use something called geofencing. It’s a technology that works with the GPS on the drone. The drone can drop out of the sky if it enters these invisible zones. That’s the theory, but the drones need to have the correct software loaded and we wouldn’t load that software. I think radio jammers are another option.”

“Not sure if the type of special event we’re looking at would go to the trouble of putting ‘drone shoot me down’ strategies in place.”

“I think you’re right. But the problem we have is deciding on the payload that can inflict the damage we have in mind.” Sarge looked over at Bruce and saw the grin on his face.

“Bye, bye, amber people.”

“You really don’t believe that rubbish, do you?”

“Sort of makes sense to me. Your body generates vibrations, so the theory sounds okay. Better than any other theory going around. I suppose we could blow up churches, but that would bring unwanted attention.”

“Don’t you think what we’re doing now is going to bring unwanted attention?”

“Yes, but there’s some urgency now, with that thing in the sky.”

“You don’t believe that rubbish too.” Sarge looked out his window and gave a silent sigh.

So much for a break from work. All this talk had him back in work mode, so he decided to check his work emails to see what next week was going to be like. His anxiety level increased with the thought of work. He leaned forward, pulled his phone from his pocket, and opened his work email account. Two hundred and twelve emails. You’ve got to be kidding. He sorted by sender and did a quick scan. One stood out—an email from Jack Kinnaird. He opened it, read it and then looked at Bruce with anger building behind his eyes.

“You asked too many drone questions at your recent earthquake disaster meeting.” He moved in his seat. “And you may have some ex-coppers on some of your committees.”

Bruce turned to look at the Sarge. “What do you mean?”

“You have raised suspicions. Put it this way, my line of work involves intelligence and we have received intelligence that you, yep that’s you, need to be put on a watchlist.”

“What …”

“Hopefully no one has actioned what I’m looking at. If they have, then we could be in a spot of bother.”

“Why?”

“They’ll start digging. When someone starts digging, they keep digging until they find what they’re looking for.” Sarge ran his hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your house is under surveillance. So me staying with you isn’t a good idea.”

“That’s okay.” There was no nervousness in Bruce’s response. “I have other options. I have another unit we can go to. I’ll drop you off, then retrieve Wiley.”

‘‘Best we ditch the car as well.”

“No need. I’ll garage it at the unit until things quieten down. I have another car we can use.”

The life of the rich. “Okay, but it’s best I come with you to get Wiley—it will need to be a covert operation. We will need to slip in and slip out.”

Sarge didn’t like the smile that came across Bruce’s face. This wasn’t a game.

* * *

Wiley stared at the cupboard near the spiral staircase. It was in an unusual place and hardly noticeable. That combination intrigued Wiley, so he opened the cupboard. Nothing but a couple of wind jackets and a pair of gumboots. The boots rested on something, a solid timber box with a keyed lock. He picked up the gumboots, turned them upside down and shook them, half expecting some huge spider to drop out. He was surprised when two keys fell to the floor.

He tried the first key, and it opened the box. He raised the lid and jerked back. A pistol rested on some foam. He’d never been this close to one before. Cautiously, he removed the pistol and placed it in his hand. Power ran up his arms and into his mind—would he ever have the courage to use such a weapon?

The other key. What was it for? He placed the pistol back in the foam and stood. Scanning the cupboard, he noticed a small shelf above the coats. He reached up and found something solid. He grasped the item and brought it down to have a closer look. A smaller container, also with a lock. The second key fitted, and he opened it. Bullets.

Someone asked him once if he believed guns killed people or people killed people. He couldn’t remember his response, but a gun offered protection. On the other hand, you didn’t want crazy people having guns. Bruce obviously had the pistol for self-defence. Handy to know. The temptation to load and shoot was there, to feel the power, but he decided to put things back the way they were. If, in time, he needed such things, he knew where they were. Yes, and the owner of the house knew too.

Bruce’s spiral staircase. He’d noticed the staircase entrance before, and now the excitement of his discovery was waning, he wanted to explore further. A narrow decorative sign in the shape of a whale’s tail with the words Whale Watching pointed in the direction of the stairs. He climbed the spiral staircase, his heart rate increasing with each step. It pounded against his chest by the time he got to the top. He was out of shape. The deck smelled like roses. Wiley leant on a rail and put his nose to the timber. What an amazing smell. He looked out towards the ocean. And an amazing view.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Peacefulness. He opened his eyes and looked around the deck. Some timber chairs and a small table. The table had blue resin running down the middle—like a gentle flowing river. Something on a stand with a cover. He removed the cover to find a telescope and a set of binoculars.

Could he use the telescope to look at the asteroid or whatever it was? He looked around but couldn’t locate the object in the scattered cloud. He could see the moon. How? He’d seen it before during the day but was never curious enough to discover why—too lazy, or maybe he wasn’t really interested.

There was a white object out in the ocean. Wiley moved the telescope and pointed it in the direction of the object. After bringing the white object into scope, he played with a knob on the telescope, made adjustments, and a sailing boat with white sails came into focus. Be good if he could locate the drone girl. He moved the telescope so he could view the surrounding houses but couldn’t work out how to get the houses into focus. Maybe he should try something smaller, like a car.

There was a car parked about three blocks away, with a good view overlooking the houses below it. A person was sitting in it. Wiley still couldn’t get the telescope to focus, so he tried the binoculars.

The person in the car had binoculars pointed in his direction, and Wiley quickly hid himself behind the large plant. He wasn’t sure if they were focussed in his direction or not. The plant concealed him, so he parted some leaves and looked through the binoculars towards the vehicle. He couldn’t work out who they were focused on. The chances were high that it was a stakeout and they were watching somebody. A private investigator hired by a suspicious partner? Such an affluent neighbourhood was sure to have such goings-on. He could ask the person if they’d noticed a girl walking the streets with a drone. Wiley would love to reconnect with her and the drone footage.

The more Wiley watched the watcher, the more he was convinced this property was the one under surveillance. Was Mr Bruce under surveillance? He’d said he entertained a few ladies.

Wiley wandered back down from the whale watching platform using every concealment item he could find where the stairs were exposed to the outside world. He was bored and this was fun. He moved from large plants to privacy screens to statues and then he was back in the living area. The TV was still on, with Fox news keeping the world up to date.

He was hungry and opened the fridge. He expected Mr Bruce back this afternoon and would discuss what to do about the watcher—definitely not a whale watcher. Not much in the fridge, but cheese and crackers would keep him going until he could get a nice juicy steak.

They were talking about the asteroid on TV. Sounded like they’d given it a name. He couldn’t quite work out what that was—had a Greek sound about it. It was now being referred to as an alien spaceship, but the newsreader’s facial expressions showed what he thought of that idea.

Jesus coming back in an alien spacecraft. Wiley found it humorous, but only briefly. It made sense. How else would Jesus return? The Good Book said he’d be coming in the clouds. Well, thanks for the reminder that he needed to get out of here and get on with delaying the return. He wasn’t doing any good, plodding around here. He needed to take a risk and get back among the people, the gentiles, the amber people. It gave him great delight knowing he could still delay the return of the Lord.  He didn’t care what happened to him, but he did sense a strange chink in his armour. A vulnerability he’d not sensed before.

An image of a man carrying a placard came into his mind.

28 - Someone missing

Sarge got Bruce to drive around the streets so he could check out the parked cars. They passed a vehicle a few streets up from Bruce’s place with someone sitting on the front seat. Bruce slowed the vehicle down. Sarge flicked his hand forward.

“Don’t slow down. It gives us away.”

Bruce picked up speed again.

“The chances are the person in a stakeout will be sitting in the back seat. Also, look for vehicles with dark window tinting—that’s another giveaway.”

Bruce nodded with his eyebrows raised. “Impressive.”

“They tend to go with the darkest tinting, so it’s hard to see someone in the vehicle. But it’s illegal to tint the front windscreen, so it’s best to look from the front if we want to see if anyone is in the car.”