They started to head back to Stacey’s Colt, which was parked only a short distance away, “When he was standing there. You just had to look at him and you knew he would have shot you with that gun in his draw if you said even the nicest ‘Good day to you, sir’ to him.”
“Do you think he knew?”
Pam answered that, “I don’t think so. Otherwise he would have been more active in trying to find us. I’d say something else in his day didn’t go too well.”
“Maybe he isn’t happy that his daughter is dating his worst enemy, if that’s what it was,” Russell laughed, though he wasn’t entirely happy with the idea himself.
Stacey blanched, “What? Kristen?”
“Uh-huh. There was a family portrait on his desk.”
“Holy-”
“That’s what I thought.”
“You just say it more colourfully,” Pam jibed, “That certainly was an interesting phrase you used.”
“Just something I made up.”
They arrived at the Colt and got in. Russell took the back seat. He was glad to feel the presence of his wallet again in his pocket. Though that sounded kind of weird, so he didn’t say it out loud.
“But what are we going to do about this bomb?”
“Bomb? What did you guys get up to in there?”
As always, Pam explained it all for Stacey. But she did it in a shortened version, “We found a file up there. All evidence points at Peerson having organised a bomb to go off at the Australia Day Concert. Unfortunately it didn’t say where it was or when it was to go off.”
“So you’re saying it could go off with a full audience?”
Russell remembered hearing a couple of things. One that the Aus. Day Concert had been played to full houses the last five years and the tickets, which were free but ran on the policy of first in, best dressed, had all been grabbed in the first two days of them being available to the public. The second fact was that the Entertainment Centre had undergone three upgrades in the past twelve years to cope with the population growth. It now held over thirty thousand people, not that everyone could see, though they had large screens around to display whatever was occurring on stage or the deconstructable basketball court. The Centre doubled as a sporting arena also. It just required the moving of seating and the erection of support grounds and the laying of the court surface.
If it was at maximum capacity crowds, who knew how many people would be killed or injured in a bomb blast.
“That and that the effects would be variable, which I didn’t understand myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was mention of a Doctor Eryn. The designer of the bomb. He has somehow created a bomb that may not only kill, but have other side effects. There was something mentioning research, cause and effect.”
“And my key ring.”
Pam shook her head, turning in her seat to look at Russell, “No. Not that I’m aware of.”
“No. But that’s what he’s talking about. My key ring. I told you how they believed my key ring was the cause of the change both his men and I went through?”
“So you think they’ve built a bomb based on his research of the effects on his own men, trying to reproduce the same effect on ordinary people?”
“Possibly. Alternatively, he just wants to blow up a lot of people.”
“Do you actually think he’d go that far?”
“Well. Not really. But maybe it’s something along those lines.”
“We already know he’s willing and able,” Stacey was looking in his rear view mirror as he talked to Russell, still keeping half an eye on the road, “You’re proof of that. That car park was hit for a reason.”
“Good point,” Russell said, “I hadn’t really thought of that. So you think he was targeting someone in particular?”
“Quite probably.”
“Or it could be a trap for us.”
“I doubt it. He’s simply grabbed Russell, he could have killed him then,” Pam pointed out.
They sat and thought for a moment, and then Stacey spoke, “What about the other theory? The one of using the effects on the people at the event?”
“What would he gain?” Pam, ever the analytical journalist, “Unless he’s worked out how to mind control everyone, how will giving super powers to thousands of people benefit him?”
Russell had been thinking about this since he’d suggested it. Maybe it had nothing to do with benefiting him, “Who says it will help him? What if it is intended to hamper others?”
Pam turned in her seat, “How so?”
“I was watching the news. The government are talking about finding out more about people with powers, stopping them. There is a lot of money potentially backing that, not to mention the government’s investigative resources. What if he’s trying to screw the government?”
Stacey cut in, “I saw that report. That idiot woman.”
Listening to what he was saying, he’d actually changed his theory, “No! Wait, I’m an idiot. Of course it is for his benefit! He’s got subjects to experiment on. He is currently the only person to have knowledge of how the powers were created in the first place. Could it be that he simply wants to profit from the government’s proposal? Be the scientific brain behind it all. He’d stand to make a fortune!”
“Not to mention the fact that the resulting uproar would be devastating. If it were to succeed. Think of the panic. Thousands of people getting super powers. There could be any number of possibilities. With that many people, with that many abilities in a city this size, it could have massive repercussions. The panic could lead to riots or people may abuse their powers, causing even more tension. At worst, it could become a military issue and people aren’t just going to lay down and die like good little puppies. You can bet they, along with me, will be using their powers to fight for our freedom, thus spurring on more conflict. It would be horrible.”
Pam’s eyes widened, “And Peerson already has military contracts. He’d gain funding on that side of things as well.
“Wow. I didn’t think of it like that,” Russell really hadn’t, “So, either way, we have to stop that bomb. Am I right or am I right.”
Pam smiled encouragingly, “Of course, it has to be the latter.”
* * *
They didn’t get much sleep that night. They had a lot of work to do.
The Concert was to start twelve o’clock the next day. The audience would be there and waiting to get to their seats by eleven. Russell had been to one of these concerts in the past and found he and his family had been stuck in a crowded corridor, nearly dying of over heating and suffocation from having so many hot and sweaty bodies around. It wouldn’t be too surprising if people died just waiting to get in, even before the bomb went off. Russell wouldn’t mind that. It wouldn’t be his problem.
First things first. Russell had to talk to Kristen, find out all he could about her father and whether she knew anything at all. Meanwhile, Stacey would be trying to gain access to the Entertainment Centre in the hopes of finding the bomb itself, if it had already been planted. Pam would be trying to contact the police to inform them of the situation. These were going to be difficult hours. Just how difficult, Russell wasn’t sure. When he arrived outside the staff entrance, which was the one leading to the bridge and the train station, at ten to nine the next morning, he found out life was going to be hell, not only for the next day, but for who knows how long. As he approached Greyson’s he spotted her. Kristen. She was dressed for work. Not unusual. And she was walking with Louis, who also worked in computers. A decent looking chap who was not dressed for work on this particular day. Russell thought nothing of it. He was probably just there to check rosters or to buy something. Maybe he was working in logistics for the day. Regardless, Russell started to speed up to catch up with them when the two stopped. They spoke briefly and once more, Russell nearly choked on his heart. This woman was doing that to him a lot lately. If all this excitement didn’t kill him, she would
.
She leant over and kissed Louis. First it was a peck. Just a quick peck. Friends can peck, can’t they?
But she went ‘in’ again. And this time it was more than just a peck. Russell froze, barely three metres behind them. He felt his eyes widen, as if trying to work out a confusing 3D puzzle, hoping what he was actually seeing was an optical illusion. He tried to tell his brain that what looked like Kristen and Louis getting it on was actually Kristen looking back and waving at him. When Russell managed to blink, he saw part of that was true. She was looking at him. Her own eyes wide with surprise. She was no longer ‘into’ the kiss and Louis realised something was wrong, pulling away.
Kristen quickly covered her shock from Louis, “I’ll see you after work.”
He nodded, “Okay. See ya.” He turned toward Russell. Smiled, acknowledging his presence. But then his expression changed. Louis did know. He knew what was going on. But he simply said “hi” and walked on.
Russell couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. His life force had been totally choked out of him. Even his heart seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat and stopped beating from lack of oxygen. The wound in his chest, as if Kristen herself had actually punched into it, taken hold of his heart and shoved it up there in the first place was throbbing with pain, but his brain just wouldn’t register, still hoping to see that same optical illusion he’d been trying for earlier.
Kristen approached.
Russell tried to cover his shock. He knew he was over acting in the first place. It hadn’t been a date. He thought not. It had just been a friendly thing. But she knew that wasn’t what he had intended. She knew it.
And he asked, “Why didn’t you just say ‘No’?”
“I’m…”
“No. Why didn’t you just say ‘No’?
“I…”
Forget this. It was like a switch in Russell’s brain. It clicked over and bang. It was gone from his head. He had work to do. He knew he’d come back to being hurt later on, but he couldn’t afford to worry about it now.
He actually shocked himself the way he had switched over so suddenly. It wasn’t like him at all. Normally he’d mope on it for hours. But that was all the time he had.
“Kristen. You’re dad. Trent Peerson?”
“I- I’m sorry?”
That’s what she had been trying to say before. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear then, nor now.
He spoke slower, more directly, aware that his manner had changed toward her completely. No longer emotional. No longer as a friend would speak. More robotic, direct, “Your father’s name is Trent Peerson. Correct?”
Her confusion was more than evident.
Russell found himself having that effect on a lot of people, even before he had his super powers.
“Yes. Why? What about-?”
“Later. Is he at work today?”
She hesitated before answering, unsure where this was going, “He’s been there all night. Are you going to-?”
“Why all night?”
“Russell? What is this?”
“Please, just answer me?”
Her confusion was starting to turn to annoyance. He was starting to run out of her time, “We had an argument last night.”
“About Australia Day? Rottnest?”
“No,” she was obviously annoyed by the personal and invasive nature of his questioning. Deep down, he knew he was wrong, but it felt good. Mind you, how much longer she would answer his questions was getting debatable and he needed these answers, “We argued about you, actually.”
That surprised him out of his robotic trance a little, “Me? Why?”
“Russell-?”
His human side started to rear its head again, “Kristen, please? Why?
“She must have realised the answer was important, perhaps from the transitions he was making in his moods, especially having ignored the present situation, “He told me a couple of days ago he didn’t want me to have anything to do with you. That was sort of the reason I said yes to you. Normally I do what he says, but that got to me a little. I don’t like being told what to do. Well, not like that anyway.”
“Do you know what he’s doing tomorrow?”
“Yes. He’s going to be at the Australia Day Concert.”
“I don’t think so.”
She was offended, “What?”
“No. You don’t understand. I don’t think he’s going to be there. Look. It’s a long story.”
“I have ten minutes.”
“It’ll take longer than that.”
“I have a lunch break.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you when?”
“Twelve, this afternoon. Out here.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
He turned without saying a proper good bye and walked off. He knew she was still standing there, confused. But he didn’t care. He had to get away. The pain was back and it was starting to reach his numb brain.
He didn’t want to think about it. But he couldn’t help it. She’d said yes only to spite her arsehole father. How typical! He was a tool. Being used.
He broke into a run and let the thoughts fall to the wind, which he noticed began to pick up, cooling his face which had begun to seethe with anger.
* * *
“It was no good. They didn’t believe me.”
“I don’t see why not,” Russell had had time to calm down. Having returned to the safe house, he had met Pam who was in the middle of a heated discussion on the phone.
“Why don’t you just check it out? You may just find I’m right…Well screw you too!” She had hung up the phone the way she would hit a thug trying to assault her. Russell had let her cool a moment before speaking.
“Because of my background. They needed to know who I was and I was stupid enough to give my name.”
“So?”
“Think about it. A tabloid journalist who makes her living off of mock stories like aliens landing and conspiracy theories. He just happened to read that crud I write. There’s no way they’re going to believe me.”
“What if I try?”
“You’d be wasting your time. He’s probably put the word out on me trying to raise hysterics, probably explaining it by blaming me for trying to incite a story. You call up, you already have ties to my stories and you’ll be outed and possibly hunted for interfering with Police, time wasting and fraud.”
“But it isn’t fraud.”
“And you won’t be able to prevent the bomb from going off if you’re in jail so you’re damn right it wouldn’t be. Our job, hopefully, is to make sure my call is fraudulent. Anyway. How’d you go?”
He decided to keep his personal story to himself, “She had to get to work. I found out what he was angry about last night. Probably why he went to work. It was exactly as I had guessed last night, though I was only joking. He’d found out about me going out with her and he was, well, let’s just say, none to pleased. I’ve got to meet her for lunch to find out more details.”
Pam smiled and winked, “So it’s going well then, huh?”
“Yeah, Well…” Russell bluffed, “Hopefully Stacey got on better than we did.”
As if on cue, in he walked.
“No good. Those tossers wouldn’t have a bar of me. I tried eight different people. Eight different stories and none of them’d let me in. Not as a health and safety rep, not as a journalist, not as a member of the Australia Day Committee, not even as bomb squad. Paranoid little-”
“They’re just doing their job.”
“Yeah, so was I.”
“So,” Russell piped up, “We’ve gotten zip so far.”
“We could try a frontal assault on Peerson?”
“Violence isn’t going to solve this, Stacey. That’s what we’re actually trying to prevent in the first place.”
“We don’t have to kill anyone, Pam. Just maim and injure,” he joked.
“Sounds good to me,” Russell murmured under his breath.
Pam g
ave him a look of concern; “You alright?”
“A-one and raring to go,” He lied, “If only we had a place to go.”
“Well, you’ve got lunch in a couple of hours. I’m going to try direct with the committee and see if I can get in. Maybe I’ll have a little more luck.”
“And me?”
“You can come with. Try your same lines. We’ll go with the journalist aspect first. Stiffs like that might not read our paper. We may have more credibility that way. Even if we ask for a tour. That way you can get shots, humour them by including some of them in it. I’ll ask a few stupid questions and see if we can just have a little look around back stage.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Pam wasn’t altogether surprised the committee chairman went for it. He seemed pretty egocentric and the notion that his picture ‘may’ be published in a newspaper tipped him over the edge. Egos were so malleable.
Stacey, fortunately, had kept his mouth shut. He had a habit of being rash sometimes, though he was a decent fellow.
Presently, they were both waiting for Mr Wallace to show for the ‘interview’. If all went to plan, they could get inside, talk for a couple of minutes, take some snap shots while searching the set and the surface of the stage. Then, if they were lucky, they could check the dressing rooms and the front of house. That would cover some of the areas. There was still the lighting rig, the bio-box and a number of other tunnels and nooks and crannies to be searched. Hopefully the back stage crew would be helpful in revealing those spots. If they weren’t too helpful to begin with, Pam could always use her ‘feminine wiles’ to get their assistance, as long as they weren’t all gay; which she doubted. She knew enough theatre people to know the stereotype wasn’t true. Not all dancers or actors or crew were gay. Just a larger portion than the general populous. Who knows? Maybe creativity is connected to that mythical ‘gay gene’.
She smiled at that. Her own editor was proof of that.
A dark car pulled up on the street. The freshness of its paint and the perfection of its lines implied it was the man they were waiting for. A wealthy man who delves into politics while dancing on the stock market. The man really didn’t have much to do with the performance aspect of the concert, thankfully. However, Pam knew those that were on the creative task still weren’t the most creative or tasteful individuals the city had to offer.
Pam prepped herself as she would any interview. She brushed her hair back from her face, made sure her breasts were at full advantage position and her clothes were immaculate. She had dressed for the occasion in a dress-suit, a low cut blouse and a high cut mini. Already having checked her teeth for food remnants and her shoulder for lint, she was confident she’d make a great impression. Here was her chance to play at real journalism. Even if it was a mock up.