Canberra, Australian Capital Territory
Saturday, 25 January
The air was unusually chilly for a January evening, and the soft hum of the airport terminal’s air conditioning was barely enough to drown out the nervous whispers of passengers. Among them stood Arthur Williams, a retired police sergeant from the Northern Territory Police Force. His journey to Canberra, the nation’s capital, from Alice Springs had been long, with a layover in Sydney that had done little to ease his fatigue. He clutched his carry-on bag, eager to leave the terminal and escape the desperation of parents trying to pry their children off like stubborn magnets.
As he stepped out into the night, Arthur’s weary fingers fumbled for a cigarette. It had been hours since he last indulged in his habit, and the nicotine rush brought a wave of relief washing over him. He leaned against a concrete pillar, taking a moment of reflection. Tomorrow was Australia Day; a day of celebration and national pride, yet his thoughts were far from festivities. For Arthur, the real significance of the day, lay in a secret mission he had agreed to undertake. One that promised a substantial sum of money, enough to secure his financial future for years to come.
He inhaled, allowing the smoke to cloud his senses for a fleeting moment. A black sedan pulled up to the curb, its engine purring like a caged beast. The tinted windows revealed nothing of its occupants, but Arthur had expected as much. He stubbed out his cigarette and tossed it aside before approaching the vehicle. The back door swung open, and he slid inside. The car sped away from the airport, its tires hissing on the sizzling pavement. The interior was cloaked in darkness, broken only by the dim glow of instrument panels. The two men in the front seats remained silent, their features obscured by shadows. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder about the nature of his employers. Government agents, he guessed, given the unmarked vehicle and their professional demeanour. ‘Get in,’ one of them finally spoke, his voice steady and devoid of emotion. Arthur grunted in response. Conversation was neither expected nor desired at this stage. His orders were clear: reach the undisclosed location and await further instructions.
The journey outside the city was swift but disorienting. Tall eucalyptus trees lined the road, their branches casting eerie silhouettes under the moonlight. The car eventually pulled up to an imposing gate, and the guards waved them through without a word. The residence beyond the gate was nothing short of opulent, surrounded by meticulously manicured gardens. It was the kind of place reserved for dignitaries or the highest-ranking officials. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder what business he had in such a place. Moments later, he was ushered into a spacious office adorned with dark mahogany furniture and shelves lined with leather-bound books. The room had an air of power, of secrets whispered behind closed doors. Behind a grand oak desk sat an unidentified man, his face partially obscured by the low light. He gestured for Arthur to take a seat on the plush leather chair in front of him.
‘Mr. Williams,’ the man began, his voice carrying an air of authority. ‘I trust your journey was uneventful.’
‘As expected.’ The man leaned forward, revealing a strong jaw and sharp features.
‘You are here because we have a mission of utmost importance, Mr. Williams. One that requires a certain set of skills, skills you possess.’ Arthur remained silent, allowing the man to continue. ‘Our nation is facing a threat, one that seeks to undermine the foundations of our government,’ the man explained, his tone grave. ‘As you know, tomorrow is Australia Day. Merindah Bradley, the first President of Australia will be delivering her inaugural address.’ The mere mention of that woman’s name curdled Arthur’s stomach.
‘I know, it’s absolutely disgusting…that black bitch deserves to die…’ the man’s lips curled into a grim smile.
‘And that, Mr. Williams, is where you come in.’ Arthur leaned back in his chair, absorbing the gravity of the situation. The man was right; he had the skills, the experience, and the resolve to tackle such a venture.
‘I’m in,’ Arthur finally said, his voice steady. ‘But I have one question: what about my pay?’ The man reached into a drawer and retrieved a sealed envelope, which he placed on the desk between them.
‘Your payment will be transferred to the account details provided in this envelope. You get half now, then the rest when you finish the job. Are these terms acceptable, Mr. Williams?’ Arthur was satisfied with the response. Money had always been a powerful motivator, and this was no exception. ‘Excellent,’ the man said, rising from his chair. ‘We have already arranged for your lodgings in the city. You will receive further instructions in due course. Remember, Mr. Williams, our nation’s security depends on your success.’ With that, Arthur was escorted out of the office and back into the black sedan.
***
The drive back to the city was just as quiet as before, but now, his mind buzzed with anticipation and a growing sense of responsibility. As the car pulled up to a hotel in the heart of Canberra, Arthur couldn’t help but allow images of himself, killing that woman. ‘I’m gonna put a bullet in that black cunt’s head,’ he said, as he sat watching the news report. It provided an extensive overview of what was happening tomorrow.
Sunday, 26 January
Australia Day
Darrin O’Connor’s chest tightened with every step, his muscular frame sheathed in sweat-dampened running gear, pushed through the gripping pain in his shins as he jogged the concrete path that snaked Canberra’s Lake Burley Griffin. Every pounding footstep echoed with the pulsating beat of his grieving heart. Three months. The time Laura, his beloved wife, had been absent from the world. The mundane accident, a stolen breath of distraction that birthed a catastrophe, replayed in his mind, painted in shades of blood and twisted metal. Darrin shook his head, banishing the haunting images. Still, her ethereal presence, now in the form of sorrowful memory, hung heavily in the air.
He stopped his jog, paused his Fitbit, and steadied his gasping breaths, filling his lungs with the crisp freshness of the lakeside air, a bittersweet elixir of melancholy and renewal. His reprieve shattered by the invasive buzz of his smartphone. His heart sank as he read the caller ID. Paul Duncan, the officer in charge, and Darrin’s supervisor at the AFP. Darrin heaved a sigh, the digital intrusion chipping away at the porcelain veneer of his solitude. He was reluctant to answer the call, but he remembered his dedication to the agency, to the nation. ‘Darrin O’Connor,’ he said, feeling his chest tighten with anxiety.
‘Darrin,’ Paul’s voice crackled over the line, laden with an unspoken urgency. ‘I know it’s your day off, mate, and I know you’re still grieving,’ said Paul, ‘but we need you in.’
‘It’s Australia Day, Boss. I thought I had the day off?’ His voice trailed off; his sentiments left hanging like unfinished sentences.
‘I know, Darrin. I do. But something’s come up…I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important. Mackenzie wants everyone on this.’
‘Does that woman have a life?’ Paul chuckled.
‘I’ll make sure not to bring that up at your next performance review.’ Darrin pinched the bridge of his nose, acquiescing to the call of duty that transcended personal woes.
‘What’s this about anyway?’ asked Darrin, his heart racing.
‘I’ll brief you and the others when you get in, but it’s concerning the new President.’ He knew the gravity of the situation and how important it was for the nation today.
‘Alright. I’ll be there. Give me twenty minutes.’
‘Thanks, Darrin. I’m sorry again.’
‘No problem.’ Darrin disconnected the call, his mind bracing for the coming storm. The ghostly shadow of Laura, still vibrant in his peripheral vision. His journey back to his apartment was a sombre pilgrimage through the heart of Canberra. He traced the architecturally stunning route around Burley Griffin.
Darrin’s apartment, a minimalist refuge tucked within the hustle of the city, awaited him. He entered, the lingering scent of Laura’s favourite lavender diffuser a poignant reminder of the love that once resided here. He cast a lingering gaze over their shared space, now only half-lived. Darrin hopped into the shower, the hot water cascading over him, washing away the remnants of his grief-laden run. Each drop seemed to echo Laura’s name, a symphony of reminiscence and longing that seeped into his pores, stinging as much as it cleansed.
He emerged, wearing his professional mask again—the steely-eyed, federal agent with the Australian Federal Police, with more than five years of experience behind him. The man who had dedicated his life to his country, who would not let personal grief cripple his sense of duty. The mirror reflected his transformation, Darrin’s deep-set eyes stared back, shadowed with the grief of loss yet ablaze with the fierce commitment to serve. Laura would have understood.
She would’ve urged him to go. Even as his heart yearned for the comfort of her memory, he knew his place was there, amid the chaos and uncertainty of the world outside. He grabbed his ID, his gun, and stepped out, leaving the echo of his grief behind, stepping back into the complex tapestry of national security, where grief had no place, only duty reigned.
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