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Powerful USA missiles appear stolen from a heavily guarded Australian Military Base. From an armory monitored 24/7. A seven-year-old proves the key to infiltrating the Russian Mafia. Wanda, a single mother super-model thinks Steve reminds her of a James Bond actor. Wanda is in for a surprise as the three try to work out who is responsible and how, and travel to places in the world. Danger close. Steve is an unwilling ‘James Bond’ type. Wanda becomes suspicious Steve is not a ‘meek and mild’ accountant - as he claims.
(In regards to Wanda’s ever so brief military skirt. There was a time in Australian military history when women won the right to have the length of their skirts (part of uniform) as short as they wanted. The skirts of the young women became extremely brief.)
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Prologue
The two men in military uniform glanced at their watches. 8.45 PM. They counted the
sections from a reference point. They had to have exactly the right section – a section
with sensors. The reference point was a black fence post but the lights from the
highway were weak and in the near darkness they had to be certain. Once again each
carefully counted the sections. Satisfied, they pulled back the edge of the wire
fence, normally well secured but not this time, ducked and walked onto the military
base. As they walked across a green area, stepping around tall trees, each took out
a name patch and stuck it across his chest.
Conscious of cameras on the base they had a carefully plotted course to walk. As long as they were true to this course only in one instance would they be in view of a camera near the Recreation Hall. Many cameras around that area but soldiers walking toward the Recreation Hall, especially on a Friday night, wouldn’t attract interest.
Even in the near darkness they walked easily, crossing the 80 meters between the fence and the narrow Albert Road. Ten meters from the road they stopped by a leafy tree. The sweeping camera on their far left was pointing toward them.
(end extract)
Chapter 1 A Sense of a Dimension
Mid-January in Sydney, Australia. Over 40 Celsius (over 100 Fahrenheit) and the air-conditioning not working. The soldier at the barrier examined the passport-like ID, probably had never seen one like it, and walked into his cubicle to make a telephone call – his eyes fixed on the visitor at the gate. Annoyance, heat and sweat, were building up in the car.
“Come on mate please.” Steve wiped the sweat running from his forehead into his eyes – salty sweat with a sting and it blurred vision too – and mouthed the words into the dark cubicle window. For the last hour and half he had been driving from the airport. The air-conditioning gave up a few minutes after he left. It was Saturday and the early peak hour traffic low and, with its regular traffic snarls, heading toward the city. Heading away from the city was a smooth run. On the freeway even at the legal speed of 100 km/h the air flowing through the open windows was a blistering heat. His shirt continually wet with perspiration and drying quickly. The black car and its black seats, without its climate control, was absorbing heat like a sponge absorbs water. When out of the freeway he stopped and considered leaving “the furnace” and calling a taxi.
Finally, satisfied, the guard returned and the barrier began to lift. “Straight ahead mate. Follow this road to the end.” He leaned his head into the car then, overcome by the heat, moved back. “What’s wrong with the air-conditioner?”
“Stopped working ages ago – and this is a hire car. Unheard of!”
“If you need a shower, mate, go to the Facilities building.”
“Love to.” Steve started the car. “But have no shirt to change into.” The barrier was moving upward ever so slowly. For a moment he closed his eyes wondering how much longer in this luxury boiler.
“Too early for the Supply store to be open. I can lend you one.”
(end extract)