He needed fresh air. There was a green plastic garden chair by the wall. He picked it up and went outside. He sat down, annoyed that he didn’t check the back of the computer, annoyed that they didn’t secure this place, annoyed that he nearly poisoned himself. And he wondered whom he was dealing with and understood why Mrs Rose had believed her life was in danger.
Mrs Rose’s dad was an old man. Who loved his daughter, who loved his granddaughter, who he knew would need some help.
But they still needed proof. He knew the CCTV cameras in this self-storage place would’ve recorded someone entering the unit, but it would be a hooded person in dark clothing. The missing recordings from the Rose’s property contained some critical evidence for a police investigation but offered no help to what Aaron was pursuing.
He needed to update his intelligence report. He looked around. All was quiet. These places were away from the hustle and the bustle of life. People only check on their junk occasionally, if ever. Aaron got up and went and retrieved his tablet device from his car, sat back on the green plastic chair, embraced the quietness and recorded his findings and observations.
Aaron stopped recording. A thought shot across his mind. Were these people looking for the same thing he was?
51 – A safe house
ISABELLA TURNED THE KEY TO HER UNIT DOOR. It wasn’t her normal abode. The Defence people asked if she’d stay with friends, or somewhere different. They weren’t sure if she was being followed or not. She wanted to keep her friends out of the picture, so she decided on her parent’s investment property, which was going through renovations although they’d come to a grinding halt. That would be the perfect spot.
The furnishings were made up of a bed, a few chairs, and a fridge, really all she needed. She did feel lonely, but she didn’t want to bring friends into whatever was going on.
As she closed the door she noticed a soft glow beneath the front door of the adjoining apartment. Good, neighbours. A bit of protection too. She hoped they were nice people. She placed the keys on a hook next to the video intercom, put her backpack and overnight bag on the floor, took off her long brown coat and placed it over one of the old wooden chairs. She was exhausted.
She checked out the kitchen cupboards. The renovators had left some tea bags and a container of biscuits. There were some long life milk sachets in the fridge. She bit into one of the biscuits and was surprised it was still fresh. It would all do until she found the shops. She put the kettle on and it sounded like a steam train had entered the room. At least the floor wasn’t vibrating. She started her search for a cup.
She sat down, sipping her tea. Gramps appeared to be in the early stage of dementia. The Defence people were getting quite stressed with him and were hard on Isabella because they didn’t believe she was telling the truth about where the transporting device was. Really, she had no idea. Maybe it fell out of her backpack somewhere. She had to back track and tell them everywhere she’d been with her backpack.
She missed Lucas.
Apparently they sent in specialist ‘trackers’ to trace the steps Isabella and Lucas had taken up the track and around the house. For some reason, they wanted to know what type of footwear Lucas had been wearing. She had no idea. They’d have to ask him. Their approach softened a little and they told her Lucas was missing. Would she have any idea where he may have gone? Again, she had no idea.
Lucas missing? Was he zapped or something? This puzzled her.
“Why the interest in footwear?” Isabella had asked.
The interviewer had looked up from her note taking. “Just some fresh boot marks. Looks like treads from newish bushwalking boots. Could be someone found the device. Did you come across anyone on your walk?”
The messenger? What could she tell them? She chose not to tell them about the messenger. She remembered his sparkling new bush gear. His boots would have been new too. She could tell them little about him, anyway.
They told her they found a drone device on the ground and their technicians were currently working on retrieving information from its flight recording system. Apparently most drones can record on board, in addition to streaming what they’re seeing.
Should she have told them about the messenger?
She heard a door close and looked up at the monitor near the door. She caught a glimpse of her neighbour walking down the passageway. There was an air of familiarity about him: the messenger or Lucas. Mum would tell her that her brain was seeking familiarity over the unknown or trying to pacify the heart.
But what was going on? Yes, she was weary. The Defence people acknowledged that there was something else going on, in parallel to their objectives. Mrs Perdu and why she was pursuing Isabella with such venom. They’d passed information on to the appropriate people and concluded that she had stress related attention issues when she told them she also misplaced a device that had recorded Mrs Perdu’s activities.
And then there was the escaped prisoner thing, but they believed that was under control. Someone commented it was like all her Christmases had come at once, but only if you had a negative view of Christmas.
Aaron Fitzpatrick, the man who seemed to be in charge of the investigation, provided her with a number she could contact if she felt in danger, and advised her they’d keep an eye on her but she may not notice it—a clandestine type of thing. An interesting strategy—how would she know if she was being protected or not? She thought of the messenger and that brought some comfort. She wondered if he was outside.
He was.
52 – Blood red wine
A BLACK AND WHITE AWNING COVERED the entrance to the restaurant. Ava wondered if the owner gave much thought to the old associations connected with striped cloth: prisoners, court jesters, clowns, even madmen. Modern thought had long forgotten such connotations, as stripes were everywhere. She smiled as she thought of her husband’s bedtime attire. His striped pyjamas reminded her of a court jester but sadly, there was no comic relief from her husband.
Red wine sat in the glasses next to the dinner plates. Anthony had Ava’s hand in his. They were both dressed in jeans, Ava with a blue turtleneck top and a string of pearls, Anthony with a white shirt and navy blue jacket. His shirt was open showing off a gold chain around his neck.
“Let’s relax tonight, Ava. Too many things have been going on.”
The menus were large and covered their faces.
Anthony lowered his menu and looked at Ava. “Good, lots of nice saturated fat there. I wonder what our Mrs Rose would have thought of the French Paradox?”
“She was into the study of head stuff, Anthony, not cardiovascular disease.”
The smell of the wine was strong. Anthony gripped the wine glass at the base of the stem between his thumb and forefinger and took a sip. “This is the key, Ava. The high levels of red wine consumption accounts for much of our country's lower incidence of cardiac disease.”
Ava also had her glass gripped at the stem and was swirling the wine. “Yes, love. But there are other theories, just like there are many diet theories. All supported by great marketing machines.”
“Not as good as ours, dear.”
“True. I saw one of our posters recently, still doing its job.”
“Procrastination at work. They were meant to pull them down.” Anthony stared at the glass in his hand and gave it a swirl. “On another subject, I had a call from a detective today. He wanted to come and have a chat. Just to tidy up some loose ends, he said.”
Ava had a mild adrenaline rush. “Did you clarify what those loose ends were?”
Anthony’s eyes lifted to Ava’s shoulders, he shook his head. Ava saw the shadow from the corner of her eyes and knew that her husband was just delaying their meal order. The shadow of the waiter retreated.
“I did. He said he’s working for the coroner’s office and is investigating the recent accident involving one of our employees. Although it looks like it’s a mechanical fault they would like to report on the state of health of the vehicle occupants at the time of the accident. All important information for families and allows preventative measures to be recommended.”
“Thought they would have completed this investigation by now. The last thing we need is an inquest into the accident. Not sure how the mechanic I’d had a chat with would stand up to close scrutiny.”
