“Wotcha looking at?”
Aaron smiled. “You’re such a pretty thing.” She would see it as jest but his heart saw it as something else.
“Thank you, Aaron.”
The call came. They hugged and he boarded the plane.
He took his seat and put his backpack under the seat in front of him. His hopes were met: it wasn’t a crowded flight and the seat next to him was vacant. If there was someone sitting next to him, he felt obligated to talk and on this flight he didn’t want to do that—he wanted to think. Unfinished business. Dad, Mum, Mackenzie—he would come back soon. The last few days have been a blur with so many visitors. Back at base he would get his thoughts in order and decide what to do next.
Maybe he should contact Officer Olsen and tell him to check out the chauffeur, but he remembered that the officer already mentioned they had interviewed the ‘security guard'. What new information would come to light—a scratchy picture, dead cats and dogs, jumbled words. He grabbed his backpack from under the seat and got out the notes and read them again.
Where had the technology been relocated to? Is he holding back important evidence by not contacting Officer Olsen?
Chapter 4
IT WAS A CLEAR AND sunny Saturday morning. Grant Windsor stood in the dining room looking out on to the street. He was dressed in casual brown trousers with a navy blue polo shirt. A white Toyota Aurion pulled up, right on time. The driver got out and stretched. It wasn’t Lucas today but the other driver. That was okay.
He walked to the front door and opened it. “I’m off, love. Will be back later today. Enjoy your shopping.”
Windsor waited for the response. He wasn’t sure where his wife was.
“Okay, see ya.” It came from the main bedroom.
Windsor closed the front door and headed down toward the waiting vehicle. The driver stood there with the door open.
“Good Morning, Tony.”
“Morning, sir.”
“Well, let’s get this trip underway,” Windsor said as he climbed into the back seat. “Can’t keep the Professor waiting.”
Tony walked around and got into the driver’s seat. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t catch the last thing you said there.”
“That’s okay, Tony. I was just saying that we can’t keep the Professor waiting. You’ve got the directions I hope.”
“Certainly have. Entered in the GPS navigator. We should be there in under an hour.”
“Let’s have a good trip Tony. And a safe one. It’s Saturday, and all the crazies get let out of their cages on Saturday mornings. Bit harsh, I know. But all these lawbreaking idiots just don’t seem to care about the laws of the road. Respect has gone out the window.” Windsor smiled and connected with Tony’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “I know. I’m just a grumpy old man.”
Tony started the car and drove in the direction of the motorway.
Windsor had a quiet chuckle to himself. The good Lord has a sense of humour. Those drivers out there drove Windsor crazy and he ended up in a job where he had to think about them and how to improve their plight. He helped form a new department and was now the Minister for Urban Movement, as it was called.
On the motorway, Windsor watched as cars weaved in and out and sped past them. “Cars everywhere, Tony. You know we have an important job to do. There are over four million cars on Queensland roads and we need to keep them from hitting each other and keep them moving. I tell everyone that our department is an innovative one that combines the fields of transport planning and engineering with urban design—integrating transport systems with moving people. Sounds impressive, hey?”
“It does.”
“That’s why I’m meeting with the Professor. We have some innovative testing under way and I wanted a demo before we get too far into it. And hopefully, I may get some control over those idiots out there sooner than later.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“You’re a good man, Tony. I hope that Lucas boy isn’t leading you astray. I sometimes think he has a hint of madness about him. Don’t know why. Maybe it’s in the eyes.”
“It’s all cool, sir.”
Windsor wondered if the word ‘cool’ was still cool. The word seems to have been around for years. He wasn’t sure if he would use the word cool to describe Lucas. He stared out the window and noticed dark clouds moving in.
“Looks like the fine weather is leaving us,” Windsor said.
“I think you may be right.”
The rest of the trip was reasonably quiet as Windsor reviewed some of his business correspondence.
Windsor looked up from his papers. Drops of water had started hitting the car windows. The windscreen wipers came on. Windsor watched the rain drops racing down his window. He noticed an old rusted car sitting in a well-grassed paddock. He remembered seeing it on the last trip, so he knew the house wasn’t far from here. The car slowed as the GPS told them they needed to make a left-hand turn soon. They turned. Some coins started rattling in the unused ashtray.
After bouncing along the dirt road for a few hundred metres, Windsor could just make out the old Federation style home through the mist. Wheels crunched as they turned on to the gravel driveway. As they got closer, Windsor saw a figure sitting in the shadows of the deep shaded veranda. The car now parked, Windsor watched the man stand up and place a wide-brimmed hat on his head. He walked down the steps, waving, and came towards them.
Good to see the Professor again. God brought the right people into your life at the right time. He wanted to do something about these lawbreakers.
Windsor’s door was open before he had placed all his business correspondence in his bag. Impressive. Windsor stepped out of the car.
He gave the Professor a warm handshake. He turned to Tony. “Tony, I would like you to meet the Professor. His real name is Bruce Starke, but we refer to him as the Prof, the Professor, or just plain Starkey.” The Professor and Tony shook hands. Windsor continued. “He’s the brainchild behind the technology, the innovative technology, I am so looking forward to seeing. He wants the world to know about it, and we are going to help him achieve that.”
They left Tony to his own devices and headed up towards the house. Windsor towered over his friend. Starkey was a small, slightly-built man. Starkey once told him that his build was the result of nervous energy from years of thinking too much and eating too little.
Windsor was puffed from just walking up a few steps. He was out of condition and needed to do something about it. But he had told himself that on numerous occasions.
“Okay to sit out here for a moment, Starkey.”
