33 - The end of the road
Sydney – 5 am Friday AEDT
Welcome to the final chapter in Part C (The Phlight) of my online cyber thriller, The Phisherman. To learn more about the story and meet the three main characters, click HERE. If you'd prefer to start at Chapter 1, click HERE. To select another chapter, click HERE.
As the first shades of yellow, orange and crimson red started breaking over the clear horizon, a bald man with bright blue eyes, a neatly trimmed red goatee, and a noticeable pot belly walked out through the green door. All he carried was a large overnight bag and an over-the-shoulder laptop bag. It was sufficient to contain all he needed for the next few days.
He carefully descended the rusty metal stairs, leaving a pungent trail of cheap aftershave in his wake, then walked for fifteen minutes to where a black BMW 7-series awaited him. He was still exhausted and under the influence of his sleeping tablets. He had not yet had time to do anything other than shower and then meticulously prepare his appearance for the new day.
After confirming his name and destination with the driver, Alan sank into the comfortable leather seat. Within seconds, the soft tones of a piano instrumental playing gently in the background began to soothe his troubled mind.1
He breathed a huge sigh of relief as the car pulled away from the curb, inhaling the distinct eucalyptus tang of the car’s scented deodoriser.
“Big day, mate?” the young, neatly attired driver queried in a surprisingly high-pitched voice.
Alan merely grunted, closing his eyes and hoping the driver would take the hint to shut up. Alan wasn’t one for frivolous babbling at any time. And after his potential discovery about Abaddon last night, he had several significant problems to consider.
Thankfully, the idiot took the hint. He kept his eyes on the road and his big mouth shut.
An hour after leaving Kings Cross, Alan disembarked in Parramatta. He paid the driver in cash – he had deliberately selected the only rideshare not requiring digital payment – then waited for the young man to drive away.
As soon as the BMW was out of sight, Alan turned and walked fifteen minutes to a McDonald’s restaurant, ensuring he avoided the three closest stores.
He was sporting blond hair and a distinctive moustache that looked quite dapper by the time he arrived. He was also noticeably trimmer and carried a slight body odour people would find offensive. No one would stay near him for long.
Alan ordered a flat white and a croissant from the café section, then sat in a private booth. He spoofed his computer’s unique hardware address to hide his identity, connected his tiger box to the restaurant’s WiFi network, and checked the CIA agent’s phone.
Still unreachable.
It was eight-thirty at night in London. Alan started to wonder.
Either something’s happened to Davies’ phone, or it’s not available. And the most likely reason for being unavailable is because Action Man’s in transit.
Being offline for at least six hours implied Davies was on a long flight. Alan was nervous about the agent’s whereabouts.
Z set a script to run from his phone. It would keep pinging Davies’ phone until it received a response.
I’ll know as soon as Action Man is back on land, if that’s the reason for his phone’s silence. And I’ll know where he is.
In the meantime, he needed to continue his escape plan.
He checked the car pages on Gumtree, an Australian online selling platform. It didn’t take long to find a vehicle suiting his needs. He had researched before about the Australian love affair with utes. It would be perfect for where he was heading.2
He ordered his next share ride to the train station closest to where the vehicle was for sale. A spotless, silver Toyota Corolla arrived to transport him to his destination in the northern suburbs two minutes later.
Alan climbed inside the passenger door, noticing the long, shapely legs of the twenty-something blonde driver in a short denim skirt.
Another one them, no doubt – dressed to thrill, yet anything more she would kill. Slut!
Alan kept his eyes focussed on the road ahead, ignoring her chirpy comments or questions.
Within two minutes, she desisted and turned her crappy pop music up.
She’s not worth any effort. She’s just another cheap whore, like Anne Johnson. And one day, someone’s going to give her what she deserves, like I did my Soho girls.
It only took thirty minutes for the Queen of Ditz to arrive at Beecroft Station. Alan couldn’t wait to escape the perfumed presence of the pampered princess.
Alan waited impatiently until his ride disappeared before heading south to Epping.
Thirty minutes of brisk walking brought the dark-haired man with brown eyes, no facial hair and drenched with expensive cologne to the seller’s average brick house.
It didn’t take long to negotiate a price for the white, five-year-old Toyota Hilux parked in the driveway. Alan haggled with the overweight middle-aged owner until it was a reasonable price. He didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. The last thing he asked with his distinctly French accent was the quickest way to the freeway north to Gosford.
Alan followed the man’s directions until he was out of sight and then headed in the opposite direction.
Seven more hours to my final destination.
An hour into his trip, a loud alert was triggered on his phone. Action Man’s phone had resurfaced.
Alan parked on the roadside in a suburb called Campbelltown, then nervously unlocked his phone. He was eager yet anxious to see where Davies’ phone had resurrected.
His heart raced at the phone’s location.
Beijing. Davies is only twenty-four hours behind.
Something’s wrong. They’re tracking me, though it makes no sense. How could they trace me yet not know I’ve hacked Davies’ phone?
The serious problem, though, was how they were tracing him. Alan knew it wasn’t via his phone, SIM or number because he kept changing them. Nor could they could follow him via an online identity because he was using so many and kept interchanging between them. And he only used his tiger box for the first time after he left his house in Redbridge.
He needed time to think.
Even if Action Man gets on the next plane to Sydney – which I suspect will happen – I’ve got a twenty-four-hour lead.
Alan decided to configure a secondary phone encrypted relay setup.3
He swiftly located an old farmstead with a strong signal for the base phone that connected online. The dusty track leading to a nearby firing range showed the location was rarely used.
No one will accidentally stumble upon it here.
The phone’s fully charged battery would provide three days of power.
That will suffice if Davies arrives in Sydney tomorrow.
He kept his primary phone and tiger box with him. Irrespective of their physical location, connecting through the relay would place them in Campbelltown to anyone monitoring either device.
The nervous hacker performed a quick test to ensure the relay worked as expected, then swiftly resumed his trip.
Six hours to my destination. Once there, I’ll have time to prepare for Action Man’s imminent arrival.
Abaddon would have to wait until he had dealt with his immediate threat. If Davies found Alan in the real world, the phisherman was toast.
Once Alan reached his safe house, he’d have sufficient time to work on something he learned from D3vast@t10N a lifetime ago. With Z’s evil additions, it was a guaranteed way to get someone locked away for a long time. The CIA agent would not get within a hundred miles.
And if he does, I’ll have a deadlier surprise waiting to send Nick Davies to hell.
Thanks for reading my online serial. I hope you enjoyed this chapter enough to click the heart-shaped LIKE button below. And if you have any suggestions to help make it better or you simply want to encourage me as a storyteller (either would be appreciated), please leave a comment.If you really want to get in the mood for where the story is going, play this song in the background as you read the rest of the chapter. When this story comes out in audio format next year, this song will certainly be playing in the background for this episode.
Ute is Ocker (Australian slang) for ‘utility,’ a vehicle with a rear tray (called ‘trucks’ in the USA)
A secondary phone connects online via a base phone (the relay) using an encrypted link.