young soldiers had been presented with an opportunity to dig just a little deeper.
On the other hand and on behalf of E-Branch, both Liz and Chung were sworn to a modified version of the Official Secrets Act, and so had to be be circumspect in what they revealed.
'You're a psychic, right?' one of the Warrant Officers, a slim, well-muscled, crew-cut redhead in his early thirties asked of David Chung. 'I mean, don't take offence, but isn't it a bit strange, using — what do you call it? Parapsychology? — against bloody awful things such as that nest we burned out in the desert?'
'No offence taken,' said Chung. 'But you'd do well to remember that I'm the one who found those bloody things out in the desert! And I've been dealing with such things on and off— but mercifully more off than on — for some twenty years. Currently, however, we're definitely on again, and like,most of the others in E-Branch I'm getting past my sell-by date. Oh, we're recruiting young blood all right, such as Liz here, but the years take their toll. So on a job like this we're obliged to call in different kinds of 'experts'. We like to be sure there's plenty of muscle behind the mind.'
'Like us?' said the other.
And Chung nodded, smiled, raised an eyebrow and said, 'No offence?'
'But a psychic? I mean, how can you simply think the location of these creatures? Like, you read their thoughts or something?'
And though he was polite up front in his talking to Chung, Liz couldn't help reading that he was more than a little sceptical. She read one or two other things, too, such as: Never kid a kidder, Mr Chinaman. Old Red isn't buying it! Red: a nickname no one had used since his teens, and one which he wouldn't accept from anyone else despite that it fitted him so well and was how he continued to think of himself.
So before Chung could answer Liz told herself to hell with the rules and said: 'Whether you're buying it or not, my friend Mr Chung here — who is in fact a fourth-generation Brit, despite that his roots are oriental — isn't kidding, Red!'
The young soldier jerked in his seat, instinctively touched a hand to his crew-cut, and stuttered: 'Er, my hair, right?'
But Liz shook her head. 'Your thoughts/ she replied. 'And Red, the next time I walk into a place ahead of you, please try to remember I can't help how I walk, and find somewhere else to look… okay?'
Fuck me!!! thought the other.
And Liz said, 'No, thanks. I'm spoken for.'
'J-Jesus, I'm s-s-sorry!' the other gasped.
'It's okay/ Liz told him. 'But maybe we should change the subject now? And yes, you're safe: I promise not to peek.'
'What's going on?' asked the other soldier, genuinely puzzled.
'Nothing much/ Liz told him. 'I was reading your friend's thoughts, that's all. Yours, too, if you like.'
'Oh, really?' The second W.O. was older and less inquisitive. But he did have something on his mind.
'In the chopper/ Liz said, 'just as we were landing. You were wondering what was wrong with David. Like me, you noticed the way he was looking out over the sea, his expression.'
'You saw that?' the W.O. said.
'No/ said Liz, 'I overheard it, 'Joe' — in your head/
And Joe accepted that she had, because they had only ever been introduced as Warrant Officers Bygraves and Davis!
'Let me have one of your maps/ Chung said, deciding that Liz had gone far enough. 'This area, and small- scale. Covering as much ground as possible/
'Red' Bygraves spread a map on the table, and Chung began poring over it. While he searched he explained:
'I'm a kind of bloodhound. It's nothing weird/ (though in
fact it was) 'just a knack, sort of instinctive. But sometimes I can sense where these things are hanging out. In the helicopter, I got a feeling that there just might be something… out there!'
He stabbed his index finger at the map, their current location, then drew it in a straight line east and a little north. 'In that direction, anyway. And you know, it's still there, but so very faint…' Chung shook his head, narrowed his eyes in a frown. 'What we could use, really, is a little triangulation/
'Now that I understand/ said Red. 'Let me see the map/
They let him jostle into position, watched him point out a location: Sandy Cape on the northern tip of Fraser Island. And: 'We can't ask the pilot to fly us east and out to sea/ he went on, 'because that will add air miles and run him low on fuel to get us back to Brisbane. But there's no reason why he can't fly us over Fraser Island, which lies south of here. He did suggest a coastal route, right?'
'Good!' said Chung. 'And as soon as we get over the northern tip of the island, I can — well, do my thing, take a bearing north — and see if we come up with something/.
Red looked at Liz. 'And you'll do what? Or does this part include you out?'
Now Liz saw the error of saying anything at all. But since it was too late now:
'If David senses anything, I'll try to, well, hitch a ride on his probe/ she said. 'But since this looks like a long-distance thing, I really can't be sure 111 get a reading/
And Joe asked Chung: 'Did this talent of yours really lead your people to that Gibson Desert nest? I mean, we haven't seen you around until today — and you weren't out there — so…?'
'Bruce Trennier had a very powerful aura/ Chung answered. 'But as a comparative newcomer among these creatures — even as a lieutenant — he wasn't too good at hiding himself away. When he slipped up, myself and some other E-Branch people, we picked him up from London. Since when the rest of them seem to be masking their presence — a kind of mental camouflage, you know?
So I came out here to get a little closer to the action. Well, and now we might have found some.'
'You picked Trennier up from London?' Joe said.
The locator nodded, and thought, Yes, like a dense bank of jog on a sunny day. Fog that's there one minute, gone the next. Minasmog! But out loud he only said, 'Yes, we did.'
To which there was no answer, and the two W.O.s could only look at each other and shake their heads in wonder…
In the other helicopter an hour later, Jake Cutter was lost in his own thoughts, somewhat moodily enjoying the mountain scenery, when Lardis Lidesci reached across the narrow aisle, jogged his elbow and said something.
'Um?' Jake murmured a response: He had long since removed his headset, and so had Lardis.
'I said, what's that?' the Old Lidesci said again, pointing out of the window on his own side of the aircraft.
'Why not ask the pilot?' Jake grumbled. 'How am I to know what something is?' But, loosening his belt, he stood up, leaned across and looked anyway.
lan Goodly was seated in front of Lardis. Feeling the movements, he looked back, saw where the others were looking.
They were on the return trip, covering different mountains than on the outward-bound leg. A thousand feet below, a massive geological 'wrinkle' in the Macpherson Range had left a tightly angled dog-leg fold. In the west- facing lee of the fold, a saddle or roughly oblong-shaped false plateau maybe two and a half by four acres in extent stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding heights. For it wasn't naked rock. Anything but.
At an elevation of almost three thousand feet, someone had built… a small town? No, not a town but a complex of sorts: with gardens, pools, fountains, a monorail, tennis courts, bowling greens, even a small ski-slope up against the mountainside, and terraced chalets to house the guests. The walkways between concentric rows of red-tiled chalet accommodations radiated out
from a roughly central location: a circular garden surrounding a great, silver-shining bubble of a structure, with windows on three levels and a smaller dome on top.
Lardis was lost for words; he found it too fantastic. But Jake only grunted and said, 'You should see Las Vegasf While in his own mind he wondered: A holiday campp A fantastic hotel complex for the jet-setters and beautiful people? Or maybe—
'An aerie!' sighed Lardis. 'Now wouldn't that make a wonderful aerie? Er, without all this sunlight, of course.'
