by Jen Cole
As he took the keys from his pocket and flipped the boot, Richard noticed that rather than going to the front passenger side, Jo had opened the back door.
“Do you mind if I stretch out in the back?” she said. “I’m a bit tired.”
She looks wrung out, he thought. Well who wouldn’t be after escaping the clutches of those two bouncers?
“No problem, it’s about twenty-minutes to the motel. You take a nap.”
He watched her climb in, remove her helmet and lie down in a huddled position. Her thin cycling gear was hardly suited to this cold winter’s day. He needed to get her warmed up quickly or he’d soon have a sick young woman on his hands. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, turning the heater to full before heading down the short track to the road.
During the trip back, Richard began planning. If the H Group was after Jo, the time for collecting data on them had come to an end. The best way to protect her was to publicly expose their activities and techniques, which included murder and attempted murder. This all hinged on Jo being able to provide information that proved the H Group was responsible for her father’s death. She must have that information, even if she didn’t fully realize it – otherwise why would they be after her? Meanwhile, until the key players in the H Group had been neutralized, Jo had to be kept safe, which meant not letting Bev or any of the motel staff know she was with him.
He’d sneak her into his room and contact BEAM. They’d arrange a safe house and send in experts to talk to her. Once she’d given them the proof they needed, the great exposé could begin!
Richard gripped the steering wheel. He’d been working towards this for a long time and hadn’t expected the reward to come so soon. Then he remembered Bill had paid the ultimate price for this reward, and that he’d been the one who’d persuaded the farmer to join the fight, assuring him there’d be no danger if he ‘played by the rules’.
Bill, he was certain, would have played by the rules. He was too concerned about his daughter’s safety to have done anything to draw the attention of the H Group, and yet somehow their attention had been drawn. Again Richard wondered whether he or someone at BEAM had slipped up. He couldn’t see how, but if it was his fault, Jo would never forgive him. Jo… she had to have some answers, and he wondered what they could possibly be.
He swung into the parking space outside his motel and turned off the engine. Jo was sleeping, her slender legs curled up on the back seat. He wondered why she’d cut her hair short. The longer style had suited her much better. He reached down to touch the flyaway tips and stopped, suddenly realizing the irony of the situation. Now when he could finally tell Jo who he really was, he could still do nothing to show her how he felt. She was completely vulnerable. Her father had just died – the second parent in two years, and the H Group was sending its thugs after her. What she needed from him right now was support, not seduction.
…
The thump of the closing door woke Jo and for a moment she was in utter confusion. Had George pulled into a service station? No, this wasn’t the Lexus. She was in Richard’s car. The physical and emotional toll of the past two days, followed by the prospect of a safe, warm shelter with Richard, had broken the tight control she’d been keeping and she’d put herself into his hands. Since he had no idea of the stakes, it could only lead to disaster.
Jo sat up quickly and spotted him opening the door of a motel room. He turned and seeing her, looked rapidly around the parking area before beckoning urgently. She leapt from the car and dashed into the room. Richard followed, closing the door. Then he drew the curtains and flipped on the lights.
As she stood in the middle of the room watching these actions, Jo wondered helplessly what she was going tell him, but for the moment he seemed wrapped up in his own rituals.
“I think a hot drink to start with,” he announced jovially, turning up the room heating. He grabbed the kettle from the side bench and filled it with water. “Tea, coffee or hot chocolate?” He fanned out sachets of the instant versions provided by the motel.
“Er, chocolate sounds good,” said Jo sitting on the bed.
Though now he seemed content to run around waiting upon her, she knew the questions must inevitably come. A glance at her watch showed it was just after four – plenty of time to spin a story and hopefully persuade him to give her a lift to Melbourne, but as she watched him bustling about setting out cups and saucers with packets of complimentary crackers, warning bells started.
Why was he so eager to please? It wasn’t as though they were close. True, she enjoyed his visits to the farm, and had even indulged in a few private fantasies about him – who wouldn’t with such a hot salesman, but it was her father he came to see. Towards her he’d only ever been casually friendly. Now this afternoon, he’d seen her acting like a madwoman and it looked like he’d copped a beating from the Hunter’s agents. On top of that she’d refused to let him go to the police, even giving him reason to believe the police might be after her. Most guys would be heading for the hills by now. Yet here he was, cheerfully making afternoon tea as if they were on a date.
She grew cold, remembering something else. Richard had broken into her house this afternoon. Had he been co-opted by the Hunter? Maybe this nice-guy act was a ploy to lull her into a sense of security until his boss arrived. If that were the case she had to get out of here, but her bike and gear were in the boot of his car.
~~~~
CHAPTER 30
As he brought Jo the steaming drink, Richard was dismayed to see she looked more pinched than ever, despite the room now being quite warm. She seemed to actually flinch when he placed the saucer on the bed beside her and he retreated quickly to give her space.
“So,” he spoke quietly, taking up his own coffee and sinking into a nearby chair. “I believe you have a story to tell me.”
“I think,” she replied, sitting stiffly on the bed, “that I’d like to hear your story first, starting with why you broke into my house this afternoon.”
Richard was caught off guard. Not so defenseless after all! He belatedly recalled the authority with which she had ordered him from her house earlier that day and wondered how he’d been lulled into imagining she was unable to look after herself.
He cleared his throat. “Well, as I told you, something seemed wrong. I’d come around earlier to pay my condolences – I was so sorry to hear about your father’s death. He was a good man…”
Jo said nothing, forcing him to continue.
“When I arrived, I found the front gate padlocked, something I’d never encountered before, and the house was patrolled by two guards who said they were security but wouldn’t give the name of the company they worked for.”
She nodded. “Strange, yes, but not strange enough for most people to return later and break in.”
Richard took a deep breath. He’d obviously lost her trust and if he didn’t come clean right now he might never win it back. “Jo, I’m not exactly who you think I am,” he confessed, and was shocked to see her body tense and fear jump into her eyes.
“It’s okay, I’m one of the good guys,” he said quickly, hoping it was true and that her father’s death could not be laid at his door. “My farm machinery company is actually a front for a secret organization. We fight giant corporations trying to trample small business.”
He watched Jo’s fear become confusion and quickly continued. “Your father agreed that the trend of allowing control of the world’s resources to fall into an ever dwindling number of hands, was not desirable, and he joined our fight.”
Jo blinked and shook her head. “What?”
He gave her a self-conscious grin. “You could say I’m a secret agent, but not for the government. My salary comes from the fees and donations of many thousands of small businesses around the world. I’m employed by BEAM - Businesses Exposing Antisocial Monopolies. We keep tabs on the giants and help the little guys wherever we can.”
“And you’re saying my father was wo
rking for you?”
“With us. Some years ago we uncovered an alarming trend of orchards worldwide being bought up by foreign interests. Investigation revealed that a single group, the H Group, was behind all the purchases, their goal being to acquire every commercial orchard. We have reason to believe that orchards are just their starting point in a long-term aim to control the world’s primary production.
Jo gave a hoot disbelief. “That’s a plot from Get Smart.” She began laughing.
Richard heard a note of hysteria in it and guessed he’d opened a valve on some pent-up stress. He sipped his coffee and waited. When she finally stopped herself with a gulp of hot chocolate, he continued.
“Your father was also skeptical until we showed him the data we’d collected, along with evidence that the Shepparton apple growers are on the H group’s list.”
She frowned. “Dad never said anything to me about this, which leaves just your word.”
“There’s plenty of data I could show you but it takes time to go through. Meanwhile you have some evidence in your own recent experiences. Who do you think it is, who’s been after you?”
For a moment Jo stared at him open-mouthed. “Well it certainly isn’t the H Group,” she cried, her laughter returning.
He needed to shock her out of it. “What if I told you I believe your father’s death to be no accident?”
She sobered quickly, but surprised him again. “That I already know, but your H Group had nothing to do with it. Unless Simon Brooks is a member.”
“Simon Brooks?”
“The man who ordered the hit on my father. Is he an H Group member?”
“The name’s not familiar. He may be linked to them in some way but… how do you know he ordered the hit?”
“I not only know he ordered it, I also know the hit man was Morris Blatman.”
“Is he the one who’s after you now?”
“Funnily enough, no,” said Jo with a gurgle. “The guy coming after me isn’t a professional hit man. He’s a sociopath in his early twenties. He’s bald – shaved not natural, with a tattoo of some kind at the base of his neck. If he succeeds in killing me he’ll win a great deal of money. Oh, and he’s also employed two top detective agencies to help catch me, though they don’t know he’s planning murder.”
Richard stared at Jo in horror. The experience of her father’s death along with having her own life threatened, had apparently unhinged her. BEAM would have to bring in professionals to help her before she could provide them with any useful information, but first he needed to win her trust.
“Jo, regardless of who is after you, BEAM can offer you a safe house until the bad guys are stopped.”
“Richard,” she said seriously, “if you were really able to do that, I’d jump at the chance, but unfortunately no place is safe for me beyond three hours.”
“Why would that be?” he said cautiously, feeling his way.
Jo sighed. “I can see you don’t believe what little I’ve told you, so you’d never believe the full story.”
“I’m willing to listen. I’d like you to feel you can trust me.”
She looked at her watch and in reflex he glanced at his. 4.28.
“The time for talk has passed,” she said. “But if you want me to trust you, are you prepared to trust me and follow my lead for a while?”
Richard swallowed. He didn’t like the way this was going, but Jo was his only hope of collaring the H Group immediately instead of having to spend who knew how many more years secretly resisting them and building up evidence.
“I’ll go along,” he agreed. “Within reason.”
She nodded. “Okay. You can start by bringing my things in from the car.”
Richard rose, dragging the keys from his pocket. When he returned to the motel room with Jo’s gear, she pounced on the pannier pack and took it into the bathroom, closing the door. For a while he listened to sounds of movement and then the door opened and a new Jo stepped out, or actually, he corrected himself, the old Jo. She was dressed in grey track pants and a hoodie, and long blond hair hung smoothly to her shoulders. She smiled, triggering a stirring in his groin.
“We need to go for a little drive,” she said.
“Where to?”
“Let’s head towards Benalla. With luck he’ll think I’m on route to Wangaratta and places north.”
“He?”
“The Hunter.”
Richard refrained from comment. If she chose to personify the H Group’s forces in the form of a young skinhead punk, he could live with that fantasy.
“Will we be returning? I only want to know so I can checkout if not.”
“Oh yes, it’s just a short trip.”
Richard opened the door, looked out and thumbed the lock release on his car key.
“All clear. You go first and I’ll close up.”
Jo slipped past him and once more dived into the back of the car. At least, he thought, as he closed the door, her paranoia can’t hurt in avoiding the H Group. He slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
“Head east on the Midland Highway,” called Jo from her supine position, “and keep driving. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Richard followed her instructions, wondering if humoring her had been the right move. He could see she was once again dozing on the back seat, and after twenty minutes had passed, he decided to try to wake her with a question, but was beaten to it by a high-pitched beeping sound.
Jo sat up, silencing a wristwatch alarm. “Okay, do a U-turn, then pull over by the side of the road.”
Richard complied and Jo opened the door.
“I’m just going a short way down the road,” she said. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in four minutes and we can return to the motel.”
In his rearview mirror Richard watched her jog about twenty meters down the road, and then stand on the edge looking at her watch. After a couple of minutes she adopted a hitchhiking stance, which she held, although no cars were in view. Finally she dropped her arm and stood looking at her watch again.
What on earth would he say in his report to BEAM? He had to let them know he’d found her, but beyond that he was no longer sure what was going on. He had assumed the big bruisers at her house were H Group goons, but now he wasn’t so sure. If Jo had lost her marbles to this degree, she could have attracted undesirable elements all by herself. And was there a genuine reason for her being so wary of the police?
His thoughts were interrupted by her return. She scrambled in and lay down, grinning up at him. “To the motel, Jeeves, and don’t spare the horses.”
As he looked at her with raised eyebrows, she became serious. “Richard, I do appreciate your help and I promise to give you the full story when we get back, even though I know you’ll think I’m a candidate for the loony bin, if you’re not convinced of that already.”
He nodded solemnly. “Okay,” he said, and then winked. “Guess I’d better get these horses moving.”
They reached the motel twenty minutes later and as they walked into the room, Jo turned to Richard. “I’m dying to get cleaned up. Could you buy us some burgers while I’m showering? Then we can eat while I tell you my story.”
Richard hesitated, strongly suspecting if he left to buy burgers she wouldn’t be there on his return. Refusing to go, however, would be a sign he didn’t trust her, which in turn would give her reason not to trust him.
“What would you like?”
“Chicken burgers are fine and fries are always good.”
“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”
Richard left, but instead of getting into his car, walked around the back of the units until he reached to the bathroom window of his own. It was venting steam and he could hear the sound of water running. She seemed to be doing what she’d said, which was a good sign.
Quickly he circled to the car and drove to the nearest burger outlet where he ordered several different kinds, along with fries and soft drinks. Half an hour had passed by the time h
e got back to the motel, and turning the key in the lock, he held his breath.
Jo was inside wearing the track pants and hoodie, with her hair again short. She was rinsing out the coffee cups and her cycling shirt and jacket were draped over a chair near the heater. At the sight of his large paper bag, she grinned.
“Great, I’m starving.”
Richard unloaded the bag onto the breakfast table and Jo immediately grabbed a chicken burger and began unwrapping it. He reached for some fries and munched on them as he watched Jo sink her teeth in. For a while she ate with singular focus, pausing only to crack open a can of Sprite and swig from it. Finally she picked up one of the napkins and wiped her mouth.
He noticed a blush rise to her cheeks as she looked up at him. Or was it just the warmth of the room?
“Guess it’s time I told my story.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
She started badly. “It’s 6.15. I can talk for an hour and three quarters before I have to move again. That’s because every three hours my coordinates and photo are sent to the Hunter.”
Richard felt a wave of disappointment. Jo had seemed so normal and vibrant when he’d returned with the food, he’d almost forgotten her behaviour on the highway. Now her paranoid declaration brought it all back. She seemed to be waiting for a comment, so he obliged, saying mildly, “You’ll have to explain.”
She nodded and pulled some fries from the paper bag. “Thanks for being prepared to listen. I know how that must have sounded. I’ll start at the beginning.
“It began on Monday morning at eight a.m.… God that seems like forever ago but it hasn’t even been forty-eight hours yet. I was in Melbourne on my way to an interview for a Uni course. I was stopped on the street by what I thought was a weirdo, but who turned out to be a holographic projection of a game show host from the future. This hologram, Danny Fitani by name, said I’d been selected to play a game in which a Hunter from my time but chosen by them, would have five days to kill me.”
