He hoped Stacey and Pam were having more luck than he was.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A small metal staircase, a long winding inclined tunnel and a small storeroom later, Stacey and Troy finally made it to the entry to the gangway that led to the lighting rig.
“Thanks. I’ll be fine from here.”
Troy grunted, still not happy with having been called away from his duties, “Touch nothing. Got it?”
Stacey tightened his lips into a thin smile and nodded as innocently as he could. Troy was more than happy to leave the cockney behind. He actually hoped the guy would get lost or killed by the ghost of the theatre. There was always a ghost in the theatre. Even the new ones. Someone was always killed on the land it was built on, or in the case of the older ones, inside the actual theatre. There were rumours about the ghost in the Entertainment Centre. A big fat opera singer. He had choked on a burrito only twelve years before. Ever since, he had haunted the dressing rooms of the female leads. Never letting up on his singing when they were applying their make up, or so the women say. The man, one Georgio Halberti, had been a reputable womaniser. Troy figured the reason he only sang when they were putting their make-up on, was because he had just seen them come out of the pre-show showers. He figured he’d be singing then too if he were a ghost.
Stacey could hear a small rumble from above. Machines at work, perhaps the air-conditioner. There was a small doorway that led back out to the backstage and a web of walkways in front.
Stacey made his way around, taking a few shots as he did so, for both cover as well as the view was quite spectacular. The spread of colours still dancing across the already bright stage and its menagerie of Australian plant life and animals, mixed with the patterns of the steeply inclining seating tiers enshrouded in darkness would make a well contrasted photograph. Instead of Wallace being the main feature, Wallace would actually be the main distraction. From this distance, however, you could hardly see the portly sleaze, though as Stacey zoomed in to check up on Pam, he could still see Wally with his arm around her waste, guiding her here and there to show her one unmiraculous marvel or another.
He knew he couldn’t take too long. It wouldn’t be fair on Pam. Not to mention he didn’t like the idea of another man touching her, well, except her boyfriend, but even then…
He hurried along the gangway, running his eyes along the speakers and lights and then the auditorium, hoping to spot something. He even used the zoom to try and look at anything suspicious in the auditorium. But nothing out of the ordinary as far as he could see.
Once he had a few shots he could show Wally, he made his way around to a second exit from the gangway. He found himself in another storeroom. But where as the first one was empty, this one was full of signage pieces for advertising and boxes of set items and lights. Two doors led from here. The first to a third storeroom, packed full of boxes. A real possibility, excepting the fact none of it had been moved for what seemed like centuries. Besides, back here, it would have little effect on the crowd. The second door went out to another stairwell.
The grey concrete walls were lit only by intermittent fluorescent lights that revealed a range of multicoloured wiring, a steel length of piping as a banister and the stains that marked the walls and steps. Water or paint or whatever.
He took a couple of mood shots. Some of these images would be worth keeping later on.
He shortly came across a door part way down to the bottom. It was marked ‘Authorised Personnel Only. Keep Out.’
Stacey never liked being told what to do. Besides, what sort of journalist would he be if he paid attention to those sort of signs?
He turned the handle and stepped into a large room with monitors lining the walls. This looked to be some sort of security room.
“So this is where it all happens.”
Four people looked up. They all had close cropped hair, as if they shared the same barber, though he wasn’t quite sure if they were all men either.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?”
“Wally… I mean Mr Wallace is doing an interview with my colleague. He asked me to come up and talk to you about how impressive the security set up is,” He lied.
There was stillness and silence as the four people contemplated this. Then one of them shrugged, “Yeah, we run a tight ship.”
Stacey smiled, as if impressed, but more at his own skilful escape. He walked across to a bank of monitors and examined the camera angles. Most were filled with techies adding finishing touches to lights, set or otherwise, however, one, labelled loading dock, seemed to be a hive of action.
“I can see. Mr Wallace was saying you lot were keeping things in order,” He turned to regard them all. Were any of them working for Peerson? How could you tell? He kept talking, “I mean it’s a pretty huge event. Thirty thousand people. Wouldn’t want anything to go wrong.”
Not one of their faces changed expression.
He spun back to the monitors, “So what’s going on down there then?” He pointed at the loading dock, “It looks like it’s busy as.”
“They’re just installing the boards down there,” one, a woman it seemed, answered, “It’s all going down there,” she pointed at another monitor that showed a point just in front of the stage, “See. They’re just bringing in the equipment now.”
Stacey craned to have a look. Sure enough, several other people in black were carrying large lighting and soundboards, copious amounts of cables and computer equipment such as monitors toward the area she had indicated.
The bomb? Stacey thought. Could be.
“Great, thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He made his way back out the same way as he’d entered and onto the stairs.
He poked his head back inside, “By the way. You sure have a great view from up here. How much would you charge for these seats?”
He vanished behind the door just as a large clipboard made contact with it.
“Charming,” he laughed as he made his way down the stairs. Had to be fit to work here.
He watched the walls as he went. Solid concrete. There’d be no point putting a bomb here, especially like the one that went off in the car park. It caused damage to the cars, but the building itself wasn’t massively damaged. With this much concrete, the effects wouldn’t touch the audience. It had to be in the stadium itself.
Unless, maybe the building would collapse if the bomb was put somewhere strategic. Mass carnage, lots of death, but that didn’t sound like what Peerson was aiming at.
When he reached the bottom, he was greeted by a crew in black t-shirts helping carry the equipment out the front.
He looked at his watch. It was already two o’clock. They had been here for just on fifty minutes. Most of that had been fumbling around back stage with Troy, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. Much of it was, but nothing resembling a bomb. He had continued being awe inspired, or at least playing as such, by the workings of the back stage of the Centre up to the point Troy all but threatened to tie a fly rope around his neck and let it go.
Just to be on the safe side, he tried to get a look behind the screens as he walked from the backstage onto the stage proper. Nothing. He started to feel a little annoyed and frustrated. They hadn’t gotten anywhere. Other than the equipment they were moving in, which he still had to check out, there had been no indication that a bomb was present. Had Pam been right in the way she read it? Or was Peerson just playing a practical joke? Maybe there wasn’t a bomb at all and he was actually targeting something else. Or someone.
“Ah, here he is. Did you get your photos?”
“Just a couple more,” He said as he hurried straight past them. He could see Pam was starting to tire of her charade. The look on her face when he appeared was one of gratitude and relief. When he walked straight by, he could see she was about to snap.
He stopped on the edge of the stage and lifted his camera. There had been a spot cleared for the
equipment directly centre stage and a few rows back. He focussed his zoom, trying to spot any oddities about the lighting and sound boards, but came up with zip.
They seemed a-okay.
Still, a closer look would be better. So he jumped down and hurried to where the people were setting up.
“Do you mind?”
“Yes!” One man all but yelled.
“Fine, bite my head off. I just wanted to have a look.”
“You shouldn’t even be here,” chimed someone else.
“But I am and I want to have a look,” he declared almost childishly.
“You can sod off is what you can do.”
He didn’t respond. They were being snappy. That was their prerogative. But he couldn’t see anything wrong with the equipment. Hurrying back to Pam and the sleaze he declared loudly, “Yup! Got the shots! They’re gonna look fabulous!”
* * *
“You git! What took you so long? Another five minutes longer and he’d have had that slimy tongue down my throat.”
“And don’t say you didn’t want it!”
Pam punched him hard on the arm.
“Hey what was that for?”
“The guy was horrible. He even tried to cop a feel.”
If Stacey had seen the smirk on her face just after she’d said that he would have realised she was joking. But, as she predicted, he was a rash man who acted before he thought.
He was halfway to Wallace’s car before Pam could grab him with her TK field.
He was literally seething. With his powers, the smoke had actually started to steam out of his hands.
“I was joking, Stace. If he had tried, I’d have flattened him.”
“If I was there, you wouldn’t have had a chance. He’d be charred cinders by the time you even thought about it.”
She laughed. She knew how he felt about her. He was very protective. She even knew the way he wanted to see their relationship. And she wouldn’t have minded. But he’d have to make the first move. Dealing with Pat would be a cinch. They’d been talking about it for a while now and with neither of them really ever home at the same time any more, who knows. But that was for another time.
“Did you find anything?”
“Nothing that flashed the words ‘Bomb. Please disarm.’”
“You weren’t expecting that, I hope,” she joked.
He laughed, “It would have been nice. Civil also. You’d think those homicidal rich kids would at least have the courtesy to have something like that.”
“Which world are you living in?”
“Uh- hu- Hmm.”
He was lost for a come back. Never mind. They laughed anyway.
“Well, after I have a shower and wash the slime away, we can meet up with Russell, see how he went.”
“Everything okay with him?”
“How do you mean?”
“He didn’t seem all too chipper this morning.”
“He’s always a little moody. Perhaps finding out his girlfriend just happens to be the daughter of the tyrant trying to kill him has played with his mind a little. He’ll get over it.”
“I guess so.”
“Why, Stacey Brownlin, are you getting concerned on me? This could be the beginning of something completely new and wonderful.”
“Not on your life, sweet cheeks. So, how’s about one of them tonguies,” to emphasise the request he stuck out his enormous tongue and flapped it in the air. It was truly disgusting. She was sure he could touch the bridge of his nose with that thing, not to mention do whatever else with it.
“Eww. You’re even worse than Wallace!”
“No one is worse than Wallace.”
* * *
When the other two arrived at the safe house, Russell was already lying on the couch, a mug of tea sitting empty on the coffee table and a pillow over his face.
“Hello?”
He removed the pillow and sat up, surprised, “Hi, how’d it go?”
Stacey shook his head, “No luck. Not a thing. Not that we really had the time or resources.”
“How about you. How did lunch go with Kristen?”
“I don’t know if she’ll talk to him, but I hope I got through to her.”
Pam looked a little concerned, “How did she take it?”
“Better than I expected, I guess.”
“Are you alright, lad?”
Russell smiled reassuringly at Stacey, not really fooling anyone, but letting them know he’d rather not talk about it, “Everything is peachy. Just peachy. So what do we do now?”
No one said a word. No one knew the answer.
“We were hoping to find the bomb so we wouldn’t have to worry about that bit.”
“That’s what comes from being too optimistic,” Russell explained.
Pam did some explaining of her own, “And if we were all so pessimistic, we’d have blown the bomb ourselves, right?”
“I guess,” Russell hung his head slightly, a little ashamed. But he had a right to be a little angry.
“So, we sit around and wait?”
“Or we find Peerson, keep an eye on him and see what goes.”
“Good idea, Pam, but how do we find him?”
“Russell?”
He shook his head, “Nope. Not me. I don’t even know where she lives. They have a silent number so it isn’t listed. All I know is she lives somewhere in the outer suburbs.”
“Great. So I guess it’s up to her now.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
He came home later than normal. Meeting, he said. Was it?
How could she look at him the same way? After everything Russell had told her. What if he was lying to get even for her being such a bitch?
No. His eyes would have told her. He was the only person she knew whose eyes told you everything. As long as you took the time to look, that was. He had such nice blue eyes. They always changed with his moods though, and boy was he moody.
But he may have been misled. Maybe it wasn’t her dad.
She was waiting for him in the living room when he came in. Her mum was out at a Taibo class.
She heard the car, sat in silence as the doors closed and he trudged along the gravel path to the front door. The keys jangled as he found the right one. When he did so, he slid it noisily into the lock and turned the knob.
It was already unlocked.
The only light in the living room was the lamp beside the sofa. She sat, curled up against the opposing arm, away from the light, practically covered in shadows. She didn’t want him to see her face. Not yet. But she wanted to see his. To see if he was lying, or if what Russell had said was true.
He locked the door behind him, not even bothering to look up and see if anyone was home.
“Daddy?”
He jumped, the keys falling to the floor.
“Kristen? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
He bent down to pick up his keys, “What are you doing sitting in the dark, honey?”
Same old dad. He couldn’t be doing what Russell said. Could he? No!
But she had to know. He had seemed so desperate. So honest. Even after what had happened.
“Dad, can you come in here, please?”
“In a minute. Let me just-”
“Please. Now?”
He stopped, a little unsure of himself. Yes, she was behaving strangely. She knew it. Now he did too.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I just want you to sit down with me a while. So we can talk.”
He smiled, thinking he understood. He placed his laptop and briefcase beside the door and stepped down into the living room.
“Where’s your mother?”
“Taibo. She always has Taibo on Tuesdays.
“He nodded again, making his way to the other side of the couch, “That’s right, I forgot. So. What did you want to talk about, and why all the darkness?”
The time was now. She had to ask. Not directl
y. If he could explain himself without her having to push too hard or too far, that would be better, “Dad. What’s happening tomorrow?”
“You and your mother are going to Rottnest. I’ve arranged it all-”
“Why?”
“Don’t you want to go?”
“Yes, but, why aren’t you coming?”
“I’ve got work, honey.”
She could almost hear the incorrect ba-boom from an old television game show, Family Feud.
“It’s Australia Day. No one is working. Even the finance sector is shut for the day. Nothing is open on Australia Day.”
“Delis are,” He tried making light of the situation. She wasn’t sure if he knew what she was getting at or not. She tried keeping her voice neutral. She didn’t want to come on too strong. If Russell was wrong, she couldn’t lose her father because of that. She wasn’t even sure now if she was doing the right thing. But his eyes…
“So why are you working?”
He didn’t say anything. Under the light, she could see he was fighting for an excuse. She knew already what he was about to say was a lie, “We have a big take over in the works. I have to oversee-”
“No one works on Australia Day, Dad,” time to try a new approach, “What’s happening at the Australia Day Concert?”
His head snapped up, trying to see her in the dark. Even silhouetted by the lamp, she could see the surprise in his eyes, “Why?”
“I’m thinking of going,” she lied.
He moved closer to her, feeling for her hands, which she moved away. She didn’t want him to touch her. Not until he explained himself. Why was he lying to her? What did he have to hide? She could already feel a lump forming in her throat. This was her own father she was questioning. Why was there a need for her to do that? What was he doing? Why wasn’t he telling her?
“No. Honey. I arranged for you and your mother to go to Rottnest.”
His own voice was starting to crackle. He wasn’t so sure of himself.
“But I want to see the concert. I want Mum to see it, too.”
“There aren’t any seats,” He snapped quickly.
She shook her head, “You’ve arranged seats for me before. For other concerts.”
“Not this time, Kristen. I can’t.”
She tried to swallow, feeling it catch, “Dad.”
“Yes, honey?”
“What is going to happen at the Australia Day Concert, tomorrow?”
He looked away, “I… Kristen… I don’t like where this is going. Who…” He turned back, “Why are you having a go at me now?”