“Well, I think it’s a safe bet that the car followed the bus until the person they were following got off. Easy to confirm. I’ll get info from traffic surveillance systems.”
With the seventies man blending in with the herd, Aaron had lost his connection to the device but he was still curious as to why the girl was being followed, and who was following her. The professor believed someone had killed his daughter and was out to kill his granddaughter. There may be an element of truth to this as the granddaughter was indicating the same thing. He needed to speak to someone about this. He would finalise his report and talk to his boss.
55 – Paintings and notes
AVA LOOKED AT HER HUSBAND as she walked towards him with the coffee. He was oblivious. He didn’t fully comprehend the things she did behind the scenes to hold their empire together. Neither would want to lose the lifestyle they’d worked so hard to obtain.
“Ava, my dear. What’s going on with that strange man who called you?”
She handed the coffee to Anthony. “Initially, he was a threat, but that is now under control although I may have to maintain a platonic relationship with him. We still want to locate the girl.”
“Why can’t we leave her be?”
She sat down on the couch next to him and placed her hand on his lap. “Look around, the paintings, the artefacts, all the envy of many. We live a comfortable life, my dear, and we’ve worked hard for it. Do you want to lose it?”
“But how can we? The girl knows nothing.”
Ava stood up and walked over to a painting. Picasso’s Mother and Child. She couldn’t remember how much they paid for it but knew they’d enhanced their security system to protect it. She looked at the woman leaning over her child as if carrying a heavy emotional burden, lovingly kissing the babe.
“I am in conflict, my dear. One part of me wants revenge for what happened to our daughter, the other part wants me to uphold our business, our empire. And I admit I’m afraid the desire for revenge is strong, and maybe we’ve been fortunate we’ve not killed the girl yet.”
It was meant to be simple. She had to play the long game. It would all take time. Meticulously planned. Use the Professor’s daughter to bring him out of hiding. The last resort was to kill her. But then things got complicated. Why did Madeleine have to come into it?
“That you’ve not killed the girl. Not we.”
A silent snicker. “That’s not very supportive, dear. But I understand the mind of a passive individual and I say that out of love. Surely you must feel some desire to hit back at what happened.”
Maybe he didn’t. Without belief in a higher power or an afterlife, they couldn’t seek the emotional comfort religion offered. Politely, they turned away the offers of prayers, attempts to convert them, and the voices out to convince them that their daughter was at a better place. But worse were the things people kept to themselves, like the idea of their child not being in heaven but in the other place, because she wasn’t a believer and had committed suicide. What sort of God did these people believe in? This fed the revenge, those church-going girls who teased her daughter. They probably told her she would go to hell if she didn’t believe. Those ideas took her life. Yes, in time, they’d pay.
“Ava.”
The calling of her name brought her back. “Yes, Anthony.”
“It’s been years. Can we be so sure her death was caused by others, not just the pressures of this world? Besides, isn’t time a healer?”
“Yes, we can be sure.” He can be so weak at times. “And how does time heal, my dear? Will this sadness I feel fade away? If so, when? It’s as strong as the day that police officer knocked on our door.”
Anthony walked over and gave his wife a hug. She embraced him, the comfort he provided overcoming the weaknesses she saw in him. Comfort. She had so little of it growing up.
“What does the girl know?”
Not wanting to let go of the warmth of his body, she said. “The plant my darling. I believe she knows where it is. Without it, our product supply will dry up. If we can find where it grows and replicate that environment, then we can continue with our supply. Then we’ll not need the girl.”
Comfort, revenge—was there conflict there? She thought of the Picasso. She knew the authorities would be closing in. Isabella would’ve seen to that.
<°)))><
Isabella slept well, long into the morning. Showered and refreshed, she stood in the kitchen area of the empty unit. She looked around and felt sad. It was quiet except for the soft sound of heat being pumped into the room.
She felt lost and wasn’t sure what to do next.
A rustic wooden kitchen chair sat near the window. Isabella’s brown coat was draped over the chair. She went over and positioned the chair so she could look out the window, and sat down. A massive palm tree obscured part of the view.
She looked up at the sky. The invisible world full of invisible vibrations. That’s all it was. A sea of vibrations. All sensory stimuli came from those vibrations, and then the brain did the processing. Thoughts generate vibrations. Do the thoughts of others travel through the air looking for a connection? Why she was thinking like that, she didn’t know. She was thinking like her mother.
She missed Mum. Mum would’ve told her the type of palm tree it was and its age. Isabella thought of their walks together. The most recent one was her Mother’s favourite. It was Isabella’s first time on that walk. What her mum found on that walk some years back had kept her busy, busy, busy.
Mum had told her she discovered the location researching through some old botany books. Her mum understood there was a restricted distribution of the tree in question, meaning there weren’t a lot of these types of trees around. It took her a while but she located the small tree. It was the bark Mum wanted. It did crazy things to people who smoked it. One said his kitchen came alive with the kitchen oven wandering around, snapping its door and peering around with its six knob eyes. They laughed together about this. But Mum also said it was sad what people did to their heads.
She remembered another story as well, because at the time she had a real interest in spiritual things. Another researcher had performed extractions on the bark of the plant, then dissolved and crystallised the extract. This individual smoked it. Initially, his experience was a pleasant trip but then he started to see demon-like creatures but said they were timid and only a few. Then came a feeling of warmth and comfort followed by an abrupt turn into darkness—a frightening darkness. Like something was switched off and then he heard voices, lots of them. He called it demon talk.
Did she remember where the small trees were? Yes, because it was just off a popular trail used by bushwalkers and there was a navigation mark she could remember—a large dead gum tree, the largest Isabella had ever seen, leaning over the smaller trees like a mother watching over her children. It had reminded her of a photo her friend Madeleine had shown her of some artwork her parents had bought.
Enough of the past, Isabella. She leaned back in the chair into the warmth of her coat but her mind wasn’t giving up without a fight. She was reminded of what was in her coat pocket. She reached into her deep secret pocket and found the notes Lucas had given her to keep in a safe place. Well, she did put them somewhere safe—and completely forgot about them.
What looked like a bookmark fell from amongst the notes. She picked it up. It was a post office box slip advising there was something waiting to be collected at the post office. A piece of paper attached to it indicated it was a present for Isabella. Oh, Gramps. She would address that some other time. The notes were more important.
The notes were from her Mum. Some were addressed to Gramps and others were more journal type notes. Some entries caught her attention and took her back into the plant again.
The active ingredient is being used in the tablets. I don’t fully understand its full effect. I’ve been monitoring the clinical trials through my team reports. My concern is the abrupt change that the person experimenting with it has. Something is getting switched off in the person’s head but it’s hard to say what it is. They also experience an increase of ‘chatter’ in their head. Demons? I believe some things are being kept from me through the clinical trials. I think the reports have been cleansed.
Another entry a few days later.
My suspicions have been confirmed. A man approached me today when I was out getting groceries. He handed me an ‘uncleansed’ report. I didn’t know the man or how he obtained the report. But he had a reassuring nature and I believe what he gave me is genuine. There had been deaths at the trials. Suicides.
A final entry.
I’ve been taking steps to sabotage the manufacturing process. I plan to kill off the plants at the trial block and also delete any other references material to the location of its natural location. The location will remain in my heart. I do fear for my life but I need to do what I have planned. I will go to the authorities after that. There are powerful forces in play. There is no other way—the manufacturing process needed to be stopped.
