‘Bad luck I never got the number plate,’ said Agent Niland.
‘Yes, it is,’ nodded Agent Moharic. ‘But if we find their vehicle, we keep an eye on the situation. Wait till it gets dark. Then find a nice quiet place, pull them over and take them out. I have to agree with Zimmer that it’s not such a good idea to do it during the day.’
‘Yeah. All we need is some concerned citizen to get our number plate,’ said Agent Coleborne.
‘Exactly,’ said Agent Moharic. ‘But hey, if anybody’s got a better idea, I’m open.’
‘No. I’m fine with that,’ said Agent Niland.
‘We may as well check into a motel ourselves,’ said Agent Coleborne. ‘That way, at least we got a base.’
‘Yeah. And I’ll call Zimmer,’ said Agent Moharic.
Seated in the ASIO Commodore, Officer Ryman was flogging Craig at draughts and keen to beat him again when the sound of engines starting filled the air. Officer Cozens poked his head out the window.
‘They’re moving,’ he said.
‘Bugger it,’ Kerrie cursed good-naturedly. ‘I was just getting into my stride.’
‘Get out,’ said Officer Cozens, starting the car as Officer Ryman put the draughtboard away. ‘I was letting you win so you wouldn’t get the shits, that’s all.’
The two ASIO officers fell in with the traffic and continued following the away team.
Jesse was speed reading in the library and Mick was lying back on the bed reading the papers when the NSA away team arrived in Scone with the two ASIO officers following a short distance behind. Like Jesse, the first thing Agent Moharic noticed was the Tudor Motel on the left.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I’m gonna pull into that motel and take a quick look. You never know. He might be in there.’
‘It looks pretty good,’ said Agent Coleborne. ‘How about I see if they got any rooms while we’re there?’
‘Okay.’ Agent Moharic swung the Jeep Cherokee around and pulled up in the driveway just outside the office. He peered down the courtyard and gave a double blink. ‘Are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?’
‘Yeah,’ nodded Agent Coleborne. ‘There must be a dozen of those white Commodores parked down there.’
‘And they’re all splattered with mud,’ added Agent Niland.
‘Sonofabitch!’ cursed Agent Moharic. ‘What next? Okay Orrin. Go see if they got any rooms.’
‘All right.’
‘Shit! I wonder if one of those cars is Vincent’s?’ muttered Agent Moharic.
Agent Coleborne got out of the Cherokee and walked over to the office. He was back a minute later shaking his head.
‘They’re fully booked,’ he said, getting back in the car. ‘But the woman believes there could be room at the Halscott. About a click further down, on the other side of the railway line.’
‘Okay. Let’s go there and check in. Then we’ll start combing this hick town for Vincent.’
Agent Moharic drove down and did a U-turn in the parking area outside Mick’s room. The movement of the big car lightly disturbed the roses. But didn’t in any way disturb Mick’s reading.
Officer Cozens was concentrating on a car in front of him towing a caravan and Officer Ryman was watching both the scanner and the black Cherokee when she noticed the Cherokee pull into the Tudor Motel.
‘Craig,’ she said, pointing to the Tudor. ‘They just pulled into that motel.’
‘Okay,’ said Officer Cozens. ‘I’ll stop down here and see what happens.’
Craig pulled over, took his sunglasses off and stared out the rear window while Kerrie kept her eye on the scanner.
‘They’re moving already, Craig,’ she said. ‘And they’re coming this way.’
‘They might have been trying to get a room,’ said Craig. ‘Okay. Act nonchalant, Kerrie, and we’ll let them get back in front of us.’
Agent Coleborne was absently peering out the open passenger-side window when suddenly he screwed his face up and excitedly hit Agent Moharic on the arm.
‘Floyd. Slow down,’ said Agent Coleborne. ‘Either I’m going nuts, or we just passed Vincent and his girl.’
‘Vincent?’ said Agent Niland. ‘Where?’
‘Sitting in that white Commodore on the side of the road behind us.’
Agent Moharic glanced in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Shit! You could be right, Orrin. Hey! They’re driving off. Steve, turn around easy and get the number of that Commodore.’
‘Can do.’ Agent Niland turned around, taking a notebook and biro from his pocket.
‘You got it?’ asked Agent Moharic.
‘That’s an affirmative, Floyd.’ Agent Niland kept peering out the rear window. ‘They’re still behind us,’ he said. ‘And it’s definitely them. She’s sitting in the front in a purple T-shirt.’ He turned to Agent Moharic. ‘So what do you suggest we do?’
Agent Moharic thought quickly. ‘Okay. If they’re still hanging around Scone, they got to be staying somewhere. We’ll drive up to this Halscott Motel. Steve, you book the rooms. I’ll let Vincent get in front of us. And Orrin and I will tail him.’
‘Okay,’ nodded Agent Niland.
‘Thing is,’ Agent Moharic smiled at him, ‘now we got his number plate.’
‘Well I’ll be a sonofabitch,’ said Agent Coleborne, slapping his thigh. ‘I can’t believe our luck finding him that fast.’
‘Luck’s got nothing to do with it, Elder Bozidar,’ smiled Agent Niland. ‘We’re functionaries of sweet Lord Jesus and he’s looking over us.’
‘Hallelujah to that, Elder Caleb,’ said Agent Coleborne.
Keeping a respectable distance behind the NSA away team, Officer Cozens followed the Cherokee along Kelly Street while Officer Ryman kept her eye on the scanner.
‘They’ve got to be looking for somewhere to stay,’ said Craig. ‘When they find something, we’ll get a place ourselves.’
Kerrie indicated behind them. ‘I noticed a sign coming through that roundabout pointing to the Waverley Country Inn. It might be all right.’
‘Okay. We’ll have a look.’
With all three agents surreptitiously watching the white Commodore, Agent Moharic bumped over the railway line and found the Halscott sitting on the main road further along on the left. It was brown and white with a yellow roof and yellow balustrades that squared off a neat lawn edged with flowers. A driveway led up to an office on the right and a neon sign above read
HALSCOTT FAMILY INN, WELCOME
. Agent Moharic swung the Cherokee in front of the driveway and the agents watched as the white Commodore went past. They kept watching and couldn’t believe their luck again when it did a U-turn and pulled up in front of a hardware and garden centre further on.
‘They’ve stopped just down the road,’ said Agent Moharic.
‘Yeah. They’re not moving. I wonder what they’re up to?’ said Agent Coleborne.
‘Having another argument,’ suggested Agent Niland.
‘Who knows,’ replied Agent Moharic. ‘But it makes things easier for us. Okay, Steve. Go see if they’ve got any rooms.’
‘I’m on it.’ Agent Niland got out and walked across to the office. He was back shortly and walked round to the driver’s side with a smile on his face. ‘They got two. A double and a single. You want to take the single, Floyd? I’ll bunk with Orrin.’
‘You good with that, Orrin?’ asked Agent Moharic.
‘That’s fine by me.’
‘Okay. Steve, can you take the bags from the back. We’ll give Vincent a minute to move off. And we’ll be back when we have his status.’
‘No problem.’
Agent Niland opened the Cherokee’s rear door and took the bags into the office. He wasn’t gone long before the Commodore drove off down Kelly Street.
‘They’re moving, Floyd,’ said Agent Coleborne.
‘Yeah. And I’m right on their ass,’ replied Agent Moharic.
Agent Moharic backed out of the driveway, then swung a wild U-turn into Kelly Street that made Agent Coleborne’s hair stand on end, and started following the Commodore back down the road.
‘One of them just took their bags into the office,’ said Kerrie.
‘Yeah. They’re definitely booking in. Okay. Let’s see if there’s room at the Waverley.’ Officer Cozens hit the blinker and drove off.
Officer Ryman had another look at the scanner. ‘Hey Craig. They’re moving again. They’re coming this way.’
Officer Cozens picked it up in the rear-vision mirror. ‘At a guess, I’d say the first Mormon’s organising the rooms while the others are getting some takeaway food.’ He turned to his partner. ‘Doesn’t matter. We know where they’re staying.’
With the Cherokee a discreet distance behind them, Officer Cozens motored on down Kelly Street and turned left at the roundabout. The shiny white Waverley Country Inn was past the council chambers and court house, not far from a police station swarming with uniformed officers.
Timber built, with vines and creepers growing over the front, the motel gave the resemblance of a big, friendly boarding house. A driveway divided the office on the left from a French-windowed restaurant on the right, and a sign above the office said
WAVERLEY COUNTRY INN
. An Australian flag on the red tiled roof languidly caught the breeze. Officer Cozens swung the Commodore into the driveway and waited while Officer Ryman went to the office. She soon returned with a pleased look on her face.
‘No worries, Craig,’ she said. ‘There’s two adjoining rooms down the back, near the pool.’
‘Yeah, good,’ Officer Cozens replied quietly. ‘Kerrie. Don’t look, but the Mormons are coming down the street.’
‘What? Okay, pop the boot, Craig. I’ll busy myself getting the bags out.’
While Officer Ryman took the bags from the boot and avoided eye contact with the Cherokee, Officer Cozens watched it in the rear-vision mirror. The big black four wheel drive continued on past the motel then did a U-turn and drove back towards the roundabout. Officer Ryman left the bags and came round to the passenger-side window.
‘What do you think that was all about, Craig?’
she asked. ‘You don’t think they’re onto us, do you?’
‘They didn’t even notice us, Kerrie.’ Craig gave his partner a smile. ‘Remember I said they’re out buying takeaway.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Kerrie.
‘They’re Yanks. They’re looking for a McDonald’s.’
Kerrie gestured. ‘Now why I didn’t I think of that?’
Agent Moharic swung the Cherokee right at the roundabout and headed for the motel. One side of his face registered satisfaction, the other registered concern.
‘Well, at least we know where they’re staying,’ said Agent Coleborne.
‘Yeah. That’s the good news,’ grunted Agent Moharic. ‘The bad news is they’re right next to the local cops. And the sonsofbitches are everywhere.’
‘So I noticed. That sure don’t help things,’ said Agent Coleborne.
‘No. It don’t,’ said Agent Moharic. ‘But I got an idea as we were driving down the street.’
‘You did?’
‘Yeah. I’ll give it some more thought, then run it by you and Steve later.’
Mick only meant to close his eyes for five minutes, that was all. But the bed in the motel was so comfortable he completely blacked out. He blinked his eyes when he woke up then looked at his watch. Bloody hell, he cursed to himself. The library will be closing soon. I’d better get up there or Ossie’ll have my arse. He jumped up off the bed, splashed some water on his face then hurried up to the library. He waited out the front and Jesse came down the side passage five minutes later with something rolled up in her bag and a very positive look on her face. Mick smiled broadly as she approached.
‘How did you go?’ he said. ‘You look happy enough.’
‘How did I go?’ replied Jesse. ‘I went pretty bloody good.’
‘You did?’ beamed Mick. ‘You found out where it is?’
‘Not quite where it is,’ said Jesse. ‘More like…whereabouts it is.’
‘Oh?’
‘But first up, let’s go and get something to eat. I’m starving.’
‘Okay. What do you feel like? There’s a nice little cafe not far from here,’ suggested Mick.
Jesse slipped her arm in Mick’s. ‘Let’s check out the restaurant at that hotel down the end of the street. And I can give my legs a stretch.’
‘Righto.’
‘Then you and I are going for another walk.’
‘Another one of your horrible power walks,’ said Mick. ‘Only round the back streets of Scone this time.’
‘No,’ smiled Jesse as they walked past an art shop. ‘More like a power climb. Up Burning Mountain.’
‘Where?’
‘Burning Mountain. A little north of here. I’ll tell you all about it over lunch.’
‘Okay,’ said Mick. ‘Hey, what’s that in your bag? A poster?’
‘No. It’s a topographical map. I bought it at the library.’
Mick gave Jesse a knowing look. ‘Fair enough,’ he said.
Mick sensed Jesse was doing some heavy thinking as they strolled up Kelly Street, so he left her to it. Mick did say he’d spent the morning reading the papers after breakfast and couldn’t find anything about his car getting blown up.
When they got to the Greater Scone, they saw an open doorway leading into a corridor. Chiselled between two arrows on the step below the doorway it read
ESTABLISHED
1866.
‘Hey, look at that, Oz,’ said Mick. ‘You don’t think this was the old Grand, do you?’
‘It might have been, Mick,’ replied Jesse as they stepped inside. ‘I’ll ask the publican.’
On the right, a glass door to the restaurant faced a saloon bar, which led through to a bigger bar. The saloon bar was closed. Mick opened the restaurant door and a bell rang. Inside, the restaurant was long and bright with polished wooden floors and blue and white walls. The tables had blue and white tablecloths and wicker chairs and the desk in front of the kitchen door had a red ceramic rooster sitting next to the till. Apart from a table of diners seated at the far end, the place was empty. Mick and Jesse took a table in front of a window facing the street and studied the menu. Before long a young, brown-haired girl dressed in black stepped out of the kitchen and came over.
‘Hello,’ she smiled. ‘Are you ready to order?’
‘Yeah,’ said Mick. ‘What do you fancy, Oz?’
‘I might have the crumbed chicken with salad and chips,’ said Jesse.
‘I’ll go for the lamb cutlets,’ said Mick. ‘And a Caesar salad between us. You got any drinks?’
‘Only soda water,’ replied the girl. ‘You’ll have to go to the bar if you want beer or wine.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’ Mick watched the girl walk off then turned to Jesse. ‘You fancy a cool one, Oz?’