The airport was deserted. They had to force open the perimeter gate to access the tarmac. Security was non-existent. No alarm sounded, no guards came running as they made their way to Shearer’s jet.
“What’s your code name?” Luckman asked her.
“Finch.”
“And what’s your signal to let them know the base has been destroyed and I’ve been eliminated?
“I’m to say: ‘It’s nightfall in Alice.”
“Will Shearer be there to answer when you call in?”
“I doubt it,” she said.
“OK little Finch, so here’s what you’re going to do – you let whoever’s on that radio know it’s mission accomplished, but insist on speaking to Shearer personally. Say whatever you have to, to get him on the radio.”
“All right,” she agreed cautiously.
“If the next voice I hear is not Neil Shearer, I’ll put a bullet in your skull and leave you in the desert to feed the dingoes. Are we clear?”
She nodded. Bell guided her into the co-pilot’s seat and sat down next to her. There was only room for two in the cockpit, leaving Luckman looming behind Warrington like the angel of death as she hastily adjusted the radio headset.
“Once Shearer’s on the blower you keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking,” he told her.
“What frequency?” Bell asked her.
“Dial up 121.55 megahertz,” she said.
Bell tilted his head questioningly. “That’s only 50 kilohertz shy of the emergency channel.”
Warrington nodded. “Just enough to ensure no-one else will be listening.”
Bell adjusted the radio. “Right you’re good to go,” he confirmed.
He flicked a switch and the radio crackled to life.
“Finch calling Fairway. Finch calling Fairway, over.”
“Go ahead Fairway, over.”
“It’s nightfall in Alice, over.”
“Roger that Finch.”
“Urgent request Fairway – get me Tiger Woods.”
“Say again Finch, over?”
“Tiger. Woods. Now, dammit.”
Luckman leant across the dashboard and switched off the transmitter so they couldn’t be overheard. “Nice work, Finch. Now you keep your beak shut.”
He flicked on the transmitter as the unmistakeable voice of General Shearer boomed through their headphones.
“Woods here. What’s going on Finch?”
“I’m afraid your Finch has had her wings clipped, Tiger,” Luckman informed him. “Now listen carefully: I’ve fulfilled my end of our deal. Now there’s something you are going to do for me.”
After depositing Max Warrington under armed guard at hospital it was dusk by the time they pulled up in Paulson’s driveway. Pat hopped out of the car and vaulted over the fence. The gate swung slowly open and on Luckman’s instructions Bell drove the 4WD to the garage at the rear of the house.
Luckman turned to face Mel. “I need you to understand me,” he told her. “I can’t stay with you all the time. But I will never be far away.”
She smiled inanely. But as he moved to get out of the car she began to wail like a child.
“It’s OK,” he reassured her.
He lifted her hands and placed them on his temples. She had been inside his head before.
“Read my thoughts,” he told her, repeating the words over and over again like a mantra. “Remember who you are. See yourself through me. Remember.”
He touched her face lovingly and kissed her with the force of a thousand hellos and goodbyes. When their lips parted he thought he caught a moment of recognition but it was gone too quickly for him to be sure. He hadn’t brought her back. But he was certain it was possible. Perrurle had told him as much. She stared at him silently as he retreated. He had at least managed to calm her down.
Through the side window of the garage they saw the Army truck still inside. Both the roller door and the side entrance were locked. Luckman tapped the door and examined the doorframe. Both metal. He picked up a large terracotta pot and smashed the window, cleared the jagged edges of the pane then swung himself through the gap and unlocked the side entrance.
“Paulson used the truck to escape from Altern,” Luckman explained. “Now the psychic defence shield is down people will start remembering what happened. I figure it might help calm them down if they see the Army is still here to look after them.”
“An Army of two,” said Pat.
Luckman smiled. “The cops are going to need all the help they can get.”
The town was engulfed in an inky darkness broken only by the light of the moon as Luckman and Bell arrived at the front of the police station. A crowd had gathered. Several people held torches, some held candles. A minor cheer arose as people noticed the Army truck pulling up but Luckman could already sense the confusion and anger in the air.
There didn’t appear to be much in the way of constructive communication between the townsfolk and the officers of the law. The cops were bunkering down. Uniformed police barred the station’s entrance. Pollock was nowhere in sight. The crowd quickly pressed in on the Army truck and Luckman had to urge people to step back so he could open the door and climb out of the cab. He spotted relief on frightened faces at the sight of his Australian Army uniform. These were business people, councillors and other locals old and smart enough to recognise an emergency when they saw one. These were the people who would need to keep cool heads in this crisis. They would be essential in spreading the word on what was about to happen. Using the running board as a perch, Luckman held up his arms to call for silence.
“My name is Captain Stone Luckman, I’m with the Australian Army. Firstly I can assure you everyone is safe. I have just come from the airport where a short time ago an emergency evacuation order was enacted.”
Evacuation? The implication of the word spread quickly through the crowd.
“The planes will be here by early tomorrow,” Luckman continued. “But I need help from every one of you good people to maintain calm and order. The safest place for everyone tonight is in their own homes. From nine o’clock tonight a strict curfew will be in force. The police and the Army will be out in force on the streets to ensure peace is maintained. I need you all to go to your friends and family now and spread the word. There will be a town meeting in Todd Mall tomorrow morning at eight AM.”
“How do we spread the word?” someone yelled back. “The phones don’t work.”
“Nothing works,” yelled someone else.
“You have cars, you have legs,” said Luckman. “You are the leaders of this community. Do your duty. Spread the word.”
Forty-Nine
The bite of the morning sun had ruddy faces glimmering with sweat and concern as the entire population of Alice Springs packed into the Todd Mall tighter than a Big Day Out mosh pit.
Curtis Pollock was waiting for Luckman behind a hastily erected stage on which the town Mayor was failing valiantly to address the barrage of questions that were already being thrown at him.
“He’s just confirmed the power won’t be coming back on,” Pollock explained, his voice raised to counter the hubbub, made even louder by the clattering petrol generator that was powering the PA system.
“You better get up there.”
Luckman nodded and climbed onto the stage. He gazed appreciatively at the thousands of angry and confused faces and thought there might yet be some hope for the future.
He gestured to the Mayor, indicating he wanted to take a shot at speaking to the mob. The poor man eagerly gave up the microphone and stepped into the background.
“Hello, my name is Captain Luckman. I’m from the Emergency Rescue unit of 6RAR Battalion, now based at Amberley near Brisbane. As most of you are now aware, there has been a major global catastrophe. The Prime Minister has placed the nation under martial law. Until further notice I am in command of all civil authorities in Alice Springs. The failure of this town’s infrastructure is just the beginning of what you are about to confront. Many of you will have noticed a squadron of C-17s landing this morning. In precisely three hours, the Australian Army will begin the permanent evacuation of Alice Springs. You will each be allowed one suitcase of belongings. No more. The Army will coordinate the evac operation. You are to wait in your homes or gather at one of five pre-determined evacuation points.”