Terry Neale - Jo-el

“The military can, if they ship them to Guantanamo Bay.”

“I’ve been upgraded to a terrorist, it’s incredible.”

“That’s just so then can hold you, Jo-el.”

“I wonder if they can set something up outside of the US? Somehow I doubt it.”

“Not until they’re out, they are the only ones who know about you. My guess is they’ll be kept overnight then let go if they do nothing to assist you.”

“So, back to square one. Time to exit the American media. Who was Cathy Vogel planning for me to meet in Australia?”

Sally began reviewing again. “Oh, wow, you’re not going to believe this. She called this lady before emailing about Australia. The reporters name is Adrianna Murphy.”

“Murphy,” I laughed, “one of the clan. That’s funny. Show me this Adrianna Murphy?”

Sally initiated the disc monitor and a very attractive, young woman wearing business attire appeared in view. She was sitting as a curved desk with a handsome, equally young man, discussing the events that had recently taken place in New York. It was a morning news show in Sydney.

“Did Vogel explain what she wanted?”

“Sure, she told Murphy that you wanted a live interview in Australia and she’d picked Murphy to conduct the interview.”

“Why Murphy?”

“Up and coming reporter, well respected.”

“So, how did Vogel leave it?”

“She’d get back to her.”

“Well, I think we should do that in person, what do you think?”

“You’re the boss, Joey.”

“When does Murphy finish the current show?”

“About twenty minutes, then she has to debrief, followed by a break for an hour or so before reviewing stories for the evening show. It’s eleven-forty, Monday morning there right now.”

“Well I think I should zip down there and buy her lunch.”

“You’ll need cash for that and I would lay off the Scotch.”

“Right, good idea. Can you get me some local cash, you said you had a plan for that?”

“Steal it.”

“Huh!”

“From a crook. I’ll tell you where and you just go get it.”

I considered Sally’s new cash acquisition solution and decided I liked it. “Okay, cool.”

The news studio was downtown Sydney but it was Easter Monday so the streets were mostly empty and many shops were closed. The weather was sunny and warm, a faint haze hung over the tall office buildings. Sally had chosen a small-time car thief to fund my lunch. He was away at Manly beach, a favorite hang-out for youngsters in Sydney. I bounced into his apartment, south of the city and helped myself to two hundred and fifty Australian dollars. I had no feelings of guilt, which surprised me somewhat.

Adrianna Murphy had completed the news show and was headed to a sandwich bar in the studio building. I waited in the building foyer until she came out of the escalator. She was tall, with long blond hair, layered loose around her face, streaked with thin brown highlights. Her blue eyes sparkled brightly and her skin was pure silk. She walked with confidence, keeping her head forward, avoiding the glances from men who couldn’t help taking a second look. She had no one in tow, so I moved in quickly behind her as we reached the line to order.

“Miss Murphy,” I said. She turned and almost didn’t look at me, no doubt trying to avoid my approach instinctively. But she must have noticed me in the corner of her eye and recognized me immediately. I was dressed in a light-weight suit, white shirt and tie. I was as handsome a man as she was a beautiful woman.

She stopped dead in her tracts and looked directly at me, her lips parting briefly as she considered her reply. “Are you…?”

I nodded and said, “let’s go somewhere more private.” Adrianna Murphy was from Tumby Bay in South Australia, I planned to take her there.

“Where are the wings?” she asked.

I told her to turn off her cell phone and that I’d explain why later. She complied. “I thought we could go to the Tumby Bay hotel,” I smiled.

She was surprised, “that’s a long way from here, Mr….”

“Call me Jo-el.”

“Jo-el”, she pronounced the -el emphatically with a broad Australian accent.

“Follow me,” I gave her my hand, she didn’t take it, but she followed me along the foyer and around a corner into a vacant corridor. I stopped. “I need to hold your hand.”

She hesitated, then reached out with her right hand. “Don’t be frightened, shut your eyes.” She did what I asked.

We bounced to the Tumby Bay Hotel, across the road, behind a wall. I told her to open her eyes. She let out a silent burst and pulled immediately away from me. She raised her arms defensively and searched around, the two-story hotel was to her right, she recognized the red roof. Her mouth opened and remained that way. She looked at me then back at the hotel.

I watched as she fought off a myriad of urges to object. Then she said calmly, “did you make reservations?”

My heart melted, it was fantastic, I grinned from ear to ear. Then I heard Sally in my ear. “ Oh God, another one.”

“Of course.” I said and led Adrianna by the hand across the road.

We were seated at a table for two in the back, as I had requested, a little away from the busy main area. Our walk past the tables solicited many glances, we were a little overdressed for Tumby Bay, but no one seemed to recognize either Adrianna or myself, I assumed the inference was hard to assimilate.

I ordered mineral water when the waiter arrived.

“Mustn’t drink and fly,” commented Adrianna, quietly.

“You weren’t fazed?”

She held her glass in mid-air. “You want to really know?” she said. I raised my eyebrows. “My stomach is doing bloody loops from here to the outback, I’m struggling to hold it together.”

“You’re doing great,” I said. “Most people would have fainted.”

“I’m close, believe me.”

And then the usual questions. How? Who are you?

“Well you know my name.”

“Look, mate, I know that’s not real.”

I loved her Australian idiom.

We both ordered seafood salad, generous portions and wonderfully prepared.

I explained that I was human and had been given technology way ahead of what was currently available on earth. I told her about my ability to bounce anywhere in the world. I told her I’d met with various agencies in the US and they distrusted me. That was the real reason for the commotion at CNN in New York. I described what happened to Cathy Vogel and her boss, Stewart Nolan. Then I revealed that it was me behind all the information that led to the arrests of criminals and terrorists in America and England and that I’d now given similar information to all the remaining authorities in Europe.

“Why not Australia?” she was offended. I said Australia was on my list.

She told me about the call from Vogel, that her station was an affiliate of CNN. She grew more and more excited during my narration. She realized that the person sitting across the table would make her famous.

I asked her if she believed me.

“I’m in Tumby bloody Bay, aren’t I? Not sure I have a better explanation how I got here.”

“Adrianna, I can’t tell you everything. It’s too much to absorb right now. But I plan to tell the world everything, eventually. I want to do a live interview.”

“When?”

“As soon as you can be ready.”

“Then I need to get back. I assume you’re not going to leave me here?” I smiled kindly. “Good. I love this place but it’s not Sydney.”

“How about we take a detour on the way back?” I asked.

She hesitated for a moment, “what have you got in mind?”

“Joey, what’re you up to?” Sally.