People wearing red shirts are not hard to see when spread-eagled between the branches of a tree.

A bushwalker discovered the body.

Chapter 17

GRANT WINDSOR SAT IN his South Bank apartment, his home away from home. He stared at the security monitor attached to the intercom system, watching Bruce Starke park his car and make his way to the elevator. The sound of television played out in the background. His ears picked up terms like ‘body snatchers’, ‘Armageddon’ and ‘Mars attacks’. He watched Starkey walk into the elevator and waited for the intercom to buzz.

Windsor suffered from realistic paranoia. He knew his phone calls were monitored, so the last thing he wanted to do was talk to Starkey on a phone after a major incident like this. He welcomed Starkey into his apartment. They walked over to the wall of glass windows and stared down at the Brisbane River. The river sat still with reflections of the city buildings—the stillness broken by a CityCat gliding through the water, city buildings swaying in the wake.

“It went well then, Bruce?”

“By all accounts . . . causing a bit of a commotion in the city, but that’s to be expected. But it does look like it went well, Grant. Lucas and I have communicated with the people who got transported.”

Windsor continued to stare out at the river. “A little history for you, Starkey—James Cook guessed this great river existed but it took other explorers to confirm it. The exploring of the lower reaches of the river led to the establishment of a penal colony. These colonies were used as correctional facilities. Back in England, criminals were transported to far-off lands instead of being executed. Mind you, some young children were executed for stealing bread. They used a transport system to address a justice problem. We, my friend, are the modern equivalent of that transport system. They will talk about us in the history writings.” He smiled to himself. “Notice I didn’t say history books, because who knows if books are going to exist in the years ahead.”

Windsor turned and looked at Starkey. “We will give them another dose in a few days’ time.” He looked at his watch. “In the meantime, I need to get ready for a press conference and a meeting with the Police Commissioner. Let’s meet again tomorrow to see how things have progressed and do some planning.”

Starkey was still staring out the window.

Windsor walked to his desk. “I appreciate you driving out here straight after the event. I know it’s a long trip for a short meeting but I wanted to see you in person. Are you okay about things?”

“It’s not an overly long trip, Grant . . . you know, this is the first time I’ve been in your office.” Starkey walked over to a portrait on the wall. “Is this your son?”

“Yes.”

“It will be worth it in the end, Grant. In answer to your question, considering it was the first time we did a ‘group’ deployment, we have learned a few things.”

Windsor pondered Starkey’s last point. “But was it successful?” he asked trying to draw out the doubt that he sensed.

“It was . . . although we had a minor hiccup by losing one of the ‘testers’ a few days back. I believed the adjustments I made had fixed this problem, but—”

“By testers, I assume you mean one of the street people?”

“Yes, but we also lost one of the people we transported today.”

“What do you mean by ‘lost’?” Windsor started rubbing the back of his neck.

“They just don’t turn up at the transition point.”

“Where do they go?”

“Don’t know.”

“They must drop into the ether somewhere,” Windsor said, trying to convince himself. “As long as they come to no harm and turn up somewhere, it shouldn’t present a problem.”

He watched Starkey. Windsor would prefer not to think of the negative consequences of the transporting. He had convinced himself that no deaths could be attributed to what they are doing. He changed the subject.

“Do you still believe we can automate the process by placing transition devices at all intersections?”

“Yes. I also believe we can develop drones that can monitor and execute the impounding. I also see law enforcement officers having a device to ‘impound’ people, a bit like the Taser gun they currently carry.

Windsor smiled. “You’re a smart person, Starkey. I can just see the smile on a police officer’s face when he impounds a person who breaks the law but refuses to show the respect required.” Windsor stood up and made his right hand in the shape of a gun, pointed at imaginary person and said, “Zap, you’re impounded!”

He walked over to the window from which he could see the reflections of the lights of the emergency vehicles bouncing off the buildings surrounding the incident area. The emergency services were still trying to work it all out.

“Thanks, Starkey, you’ve done a good job. I’ve organised money to be transferred over to one of your accounts. You can use that for the next phase.”

<°)))><

It had been a few hours since they had any contact with the masked men. Mackenzie was thinking of the masks that they wore: the grinning smile was quite unsettling. Why would they wear masks? Maybe it was reassuring, as concealing their identities meant that the prisoners would be freed some time. Better than the alternative. If they were able to identify their kidnappers, who knows what the end results would be. She shuddered at the thought.

She knew they were being monitored. The quiet movement of the closed-circuit camera gave that away. Things will work out. Pray. Just keep calm. She needed to remain calm to help her think clearly. She wondered where Paul was—they were together, but . . . like a flash . . . one minute they were walking, talking, and then . . .

She was also annoyed because she didn’t break the law. She didn’t jaywalk. Her law-abiding ways drove her crazy sometimes. Always has to do the right thing. No speeding tickets, no fines for anything. She strongly believed laws were to be obeyed. It was not drilled into her by her parents, just some inner code inside her. She was obeying the ‘Don’t Walk’ indicator. Somebody pushed her onto the road.

Mackenzie realised she was staring at the man who pushed her, and he was staring right back at her. She turned away. She wondered about the dark smudge under one of his eyes.

She heard the door open and turned to see the hosts return. They had the silly masks on again but that was okay if it meant she would be released. Mackenzie could not get over the size of the nose. But she knew politicians, especially American presidents, were popular targets for caricature artists.

The bulkier man spoke. “If you could all take your seats please, we have a small presentation for you and then you’ll be taken to your accommodation”.

Mackenzie remained standing. She watched his lips moving behind Nixon’s big lips. She noticed hair above his top lip: he had a moustache. Then it hit home what he’d actually said. “Excuse me . . . accommodation . . . how long are you planning on keeping us here?” she asked.

“Not long. We’re quite a distance from the city and we plan to transport you all back there tomorrow, using conventional transport. A bus will be here in the morning.”

“Excuse me . . . I look forward to the bus trip . . . but could you tell me if my friend is safe?” asked Mackenzie, she had a nagging feeling about Paul.

“You’ll see him tomorrow,” the bulkier man said.

The nagging feeling did not go away. She watched as the big man pushed a button on a remote. A soft motor sound came from the end of the room. A screen came sliding down out of its casing. The lights dimmed, a shutter came down on the window. Mackenzie picked up a sniff of something, a musky, earthy smell. She was sure it came in with that big man.

Mackenzie watched the presentation, but her thoughts were on Paul. Maybe he was still back there at the crossing, scratching his head, trying to work out where she had gone. But that was hours ago. Maybe he was with the search party. Where would they look? She had no idea where they were.

The lights were all back on now. Mackenzie watched the shutter going up on the window, the light invading the darkness. She got up and walked towards the window. It must be near or past lunchtime. Her stomach was rumbling. She looked at the table at the back of the room—there was a bowl of fruit there, so she walked over and grabbed an apple.

She turned and looked at the bulky guy. “Sir, I am quite angry with what you have done to us. How you expected us to sit through a presentation is beyond me. But we sat and watched, maybe because we’re numb. So we sort of have a picture of what you are up to, but surely there must have been another way of doing this. You talk about the ripple effect. Well, what about the effect this is having on our families and maybe our bodies?”

She sensed some nervousness with the big man and hoped the smaller man would get more into the conversation. She took a small bite of the apple. Her body thanked her.

“We understand but you see this is what we wanted to happen. You have been inconvenienced.” The smaller man was now contributing.

But she stared at the big man. There was something familiar about him. She felt like grabbing his mask and ripping it off. She looked again at the smaller man. “Inconvenienced. Yep, you’ve certainly got that part right.” She looked at her apple and took another bite. She watched as a few of the others walked over to the table and took some fruit.

“You will be back in touch with your families tomorrow and they will be much relieved.” The small man was nodding his head like it was bobbing on a spring, almost as though he was trying to convince himself.

“Yep, they will be relieved.” Mackenzie thought of her parents, then thought of Aaron and how he would sort these men out.

“But think of those that don’t come back. This is what we want to prevent. We were saying before we want people to obey laws. They are not, so we want to do something about it.” The small man was speaking again.