‘Jeez Crystal,’ Eric said, ‘learn to pick your battles! Men with guns trump reporters with cameras every time.’
‘They can’t treat me like that.’
‘They can under the Terrorism Suppression Act. They can throw you in jail for up to thirty days and not even give you a reason. You won’t get much reporting done from there.’
Crystal pouted, still smarting at the sergeant’s treatment. She was a star. Nobody treated a star like that.
‘So what’s going on back there?’
‘I wish I knew. But it seems like a hell of a coincidence after everything else that’s happened.’
Her satellite phone rang. She didn’t recognise the incoming number.
‘What?’ she snapped, then, ‘Oh, hello.’
‘It’s Alice Jones,’ she whispered to Eric, covering the mouthpiece.
‘No, he can’t talk now, he’s driving,’ she said into the phone. ‘But I can relay a message.’
She listened intently for a full minute, not saying anything. Then she said, ‘All right. Look, we’ll meet you at the Old Oak Café in Haast. We’re heading there ourselves. But you should know the army have closed the road. They’re not they’re letting anyone in, but they are letting people out, so you should be OK.’
‘Well?’ Eric said.
Crystal clicked the phone off. ‘She’s heading out, heading for home. She’s got some footage for us to backup her story. And apparently she’s had a death threat.’
* * *
‘Where have you been?’
The others were lounging in the sun when Coral returned. Tim sensed there was something wrong immediately. Her face was blank, like a mask, and she walked at a measured pace, like a robot. He thought she might be trying to imitate Artificial Albert, but there was no joking, no light of fun in her eyes.
She stopped, rested her hands on the back of a folding chair, leaned forward confidentially and said, ‘Don’t look now, but we’re surrounded by a bunch of soldiers.’
‘What?’ Norman turned.
‘I said don’t look, idiot. Just get your things and pretend we’re going for a walk.’
‘Are you serious?’
Coral’s expression didn’t waiver. ‘Just make sure you’ve got everything you need. I mean everything.’
Alkemy reached for her pink backpack, the outline of the Temporal Accumulator box visible inside.
‘What about Alb—?’
‘They said to stay away from the caravan. They’ve got all sorts of stuff trained on us.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
They got up, exchanging glances, gathered their things and headed for the entrance of the reserve, moving as instructed — casually but carefully. Tim glanced at his sister, still half-expecting a hoot of laughter and a cry that they’d all been sucked in, but her face remained grave.
‘Are you sure about this? I never heard anything.’
‘It’s the SAS, Timmo. I think that’s how they operate.’
Nothing seemed out of place, even when they reached the road, but the moment they stepped into the shadow of a stand of trees, six figures emerged from the undergrowth. It was an odd sensation. A moment before, a casual glance showed nothing but stripy shade, then suddenly it was full of bulky figures in heavy camouflage carrying guns.
‘Nice one girlie.’ A hand patted Coral’s shoulder. It too was camouflaged. ‘Anyone else back there?’
Coral glanced helplessly at the others before answering. ‘No.’
‘Perimeter Patrol,’ a low voice said. ‘Five, repeat five evacs coming your way. All minors. Over.’ There was a crackle of static and an acknowledgement.
The first soldier nodded to another who jerked his head and gestured they should follow him. He moved briskly, leading them up the road towards the farm. After a hundred metres, they met with a regular unit coming the other way. Tim saw the soldiers stiffen at the sight of their camouflaged companion. He clearly commanded respect.
‘Can I get a couple of you guys to escort this lot back to the farm for me?’ he said.
‘Certainly, sir!’ one of their number snapped.
‘Take care, kids.’ He turned and slipped away, half vanishing against the background, even in the light of day.
Aunt Em was pacing the veranda when they came into view, her expression a mixture of relief and What-have-you-been-up-to-now? A large khaki tent had been erected in front of the milking shed and the drive was littered with vehicles and people moving to and fro.
‘Army and police,’ Norman said. ‘Awesome!’
Their escort fell back and they walked up to the house, amazed at the transformation from farm into a bustling headquarters.
‘I take it this is them?’ a police sergeant said to Em.
She nodded.
‘Never a dull moment with you lot around,’ Frank said.
‘Is everyone OK?’ the sergeant said. ‘It’s all right, you’re safe now.’
‘Safe from what?’ Coral said.
He ignored the question. ‘We’ll want to talk to you all later, but just take it easy for now. OK?’
‘Where’s Albert?’ Em asked. ‘Is he not with you?’
‘He’s ... gone for a walk,’ Tim said.
Norman nudged him.
There was a crackle of radio traffic from the tent. They could hear it from the veranda. ‘Repeat,’ a voice said, ‘perimeter secure. No sign of weapons or explosives. But we’ve found a body.’
‘Description?’
‘Male. Caucasian. Late forties or early fifties. Medic says he’s cold. Might have been here a while.’
Norman nudged him again.
‘Injuries?’
‘Nothing obvious. Just checking for ... What the hell?’
‘Repeat, Tiger One-Nine.’
‘Tiger One-Nine. Looks like we might have a situation here after all.’
At the third nudge, Tim whirled round and hissed, ‘What?’
Norman didn’t say a word, just rolled eyes towards the western horizon where a faint, pencil-thin vapour trail was visible, heading their way.
Tim looked at his friend in alarm. Norman mouthed, ‘The ship.’