'So remember, a moment or so after one of us — I include myself— shows up positive, he also shows up dead… 'And on that point, enough said… 'Now let's move on:
'We think it's likely that our quarry has a hideout somewhere in the mountains. Where they come from, the Wamphyri are very fond of their aeries — the places where they live — and the higher the better. Unfortunately that doesn't tell us very much, doesn't narrow down his or her location. For as you know as well or better than I do, there are mountains galore around here. But there's also a paradox in that the Wamphyri don't go much on sunlight. And right now we've rather a surfeit of that, too! Weird, wouldn't you say, that our alien friend has chosen to set up shop here? Well, maybe not.
'You see, he's not dumb. He knows that we know his habits, and that we've known about his "invasion" from square one. That means he also knows that normally this would be one of the last places we'd expect to find him. So where better to hide himself away and do his thing, whatever that thing is? The only problem is, he might also know that we found and dealt with Bruce Trennier, and by now he could well be expecting us to come looking for him here.
Indeed, he could already know that we've arrived. And if so he'll be doubly dangerous, because there'll be little or no element of surprise.
'Okay, we have a couple of days before our back-up squads and the big ops vehicle are in situ. And that has to be one of our first priorities: to find suitable and preferably non-obtrusive sites, with access to principal mountain approach roads, where we can harbour these men and vehicles as they arrive. So as of noon today we'll be air-mobile again, but not in the jetcopters that you've grown used to. They may have been great in the desert, but to Brisbane's civilian population — not to mention our quarry — aircraft that look like they do are bound to attract attention. So for the time being they'll be on standby in hangars at the airfield where we came in.
'So, there's a firm in town that does aerial sightseeing trips by helicopter, north along the Coastal Range to Gladstone, and south over the Macphersons and along the Richmond Range as far as Grafton. Which is ideal for our purposes in that it covers the ground we're interested in, and the pilots know all the routes by heart and have first-class local knowledge. Alas that we can't simply commandeer this firm, its men and machines; but no, that would be to give the show away, and so we'll be paying our way. But I will try to get us a bit more clout than the average tourist. Obviously we have to have the final say on where we fly and what we look at. So later this morning I'll speak to Prime Minister Lance Blackmore and see if he can sort something out for us.
'Very well, so assuming we're airborne again, what will we be looking for? Military commanders, you'll be looking for naturally concealed campsites for your contingents, harbour areas, and access routes. And you'll also be checking your maps, doing an aerial reconnaissance of the entire area. As for my people:
'We'll be scanning the mountain heights for our quarry. In truth, we don't really know what we're looking for; we can only hope we'll know it when we see it. But it isn't all blind luck. Two of my men, Lardis Lidesci and David Chung, are specialists in this regard. One of them will travel in each chopper.
'Okay, that's it. From midday or soon after we should have these planes at our disposal. Get your maps, cameras, and whatever else you'll need sorted out now. As for myself: well, much as I'd like to be going with you, my duty for the time being is right here. Someone has to watch the shop.
'A final reminder. This is a covert operation. Try not to give anything away to these civilian pilots. Have a set of answers ready to hand. For instance, you could be fire chiefs carrying out preliminary aerial surveys, ensuring there won't be a second Great Fire of Brisbane. Something along those lines. I'm sure you'll think of something.
'That's it, and I hope I didn't bore you too much. Gentlemen, thanks for your time and attention…'
Brisbane's Skytours helicopters were small, conventional pleasure machines custom-built for the job. Capable of carrying four passengers, they had wraparound plexiglass side windows which allowed for superb viewing, but would prove a shade vertiginous for people with height problems. As the Old Lidesci would later describe it, it was like flying in a bubble!' — and he didn't much like it. The only other problem was their range. Two hundred and eighty miles was their safety limit without refuelling; which meant that a chopper on the northern route must land at a small airport in Gladstone, and on the southern route in Grafton. The good side of that was that it gave the passengers time to take on food and water to see them through the return trip.
The pilots were isolated up front behind see-through bulkheads, and they communicated with their passengers on headsets. But since in the main their commentaries consisted of monologues learned parrot-fashion over years of flying the same routes, pretty soon the drone of their voices became one with the whirring of rotors and ceased to have meaning. If passengers didn't want to listen they removed their headsets; when they wished to converse or ask questions, they replaced them. A simple system.
In the early afternoon, Jake flew south toward the Macpherson Range with lan Goodly, the Old Lidesci, and an Australian Major whose rank was never on display or used to unfair advantage; he had his job to do and was simply another member of the team. But truth be told, it was a strange team. The precog was there in the uncertain hope that should they fly over an 'aerie' — in whatever shape or form — he might catch a glimpse of some significant future event and recognize it for what it was. The SAS Major had his own tasks to perform; he understood that Jake, Goodly, and the old man were 'specialists' in their own right, but in what specific areas he neither knew nor cared.
As for Jake: ostensibly he had been sent along so that he could 'get a good look at the lie of the land,' but he assumed that in fact it was to keep him out of Trask's way. And he was partly right: Trask hadn't wanted him around cluttering up the place, asking awkward questions, generally getting in the way. But that wasn't the whole story. Mainly Jake had been sent out with Lardis and lan Goodly in the hope that something of their team spirit might rub off on him.
And truth to tell, Jake was actually developing a strong feeling of kinship with the Old Lidesci, and he already acknowledged a growing measure of respect for Goodly… this despite that the precog seemed as enigmatic as ever. As for the Australian Major: Jake wasn't about to mention (or invite questions about) his own brief 'career' as a member of the original British Special Air Service. For, after all, he had been 'required to leave' in rather short order, and compared to this professional would seem the veriest amateur. But at least he had remembered some of his training… the useful, more deadly bits, anyway.
And there they sat, scanning the beautiful, sun-bleached coastal strip far below, the valleys and hills, but especially the rearing mountains, as the Skytours helicopter whirled them south, and their pilot/tour-guide's monologue droned on and on in their headsets…
Flying north along the Coastal Range, the locator David Chung shared a second Skytours helicopter with two SAS Warrant Officers and Liz Merrick. It said a lot for their personal discipline and commitment that these fit young Australians were able to concentrate on their work with Liz along. For her part, she was aware of the occasional appreciative glance at her curvaceous figure in tight-fitting jeans and loose shirt. But while the SAS men found this British 'Sheila' easy to talk to, frank and friendly, they also knew that she was a member of E-Branch and so must be special in ways other than the purely physical. And she was treated accordingly, with the utmost courtesy.