“Excuse me sir, did you just ask if either of us was in possession of a voodoo doll?” Rusty cringed.
“That was a YES or NO question Mr. Flathers… Need I remind you that I am the one asking the questions!” retorted the Customs Officer. “You’re not driving into Wisconsin here… This is Ontario… Home of Timmy Horton’s… We have rules here!
“Yes sir,” Rusty replied. Then he straightened in the driver’s seat, thinking “she’s gone… I better learn how to face it” on my own if I’m going to make it in this world. Sally’s no longer here to hold my hand.
“OK then… Let me continue by asking,” continued the Officer, “Have either of you completed the necessary paperwork to petition for non-Canadian Temporary Work Permits?”
That pretty much sealed the deal for the two would be northbound boys. “Go ahead and park that truck under the canopy and come on inside” were his next instructions.
“Do you think we’re in trouble?” questioned Rusty, as he and Cos made their way toward the Customs and Immigration building.
“Not unless you’re hiding a voodoo doll!” replied Cos. “What the heck is that all about?”
Rusty stiffened as they entered the building and were greeted by two more officers stationed behind the counter. They appeared to be in a heated debate glowing over the intricacies of an NHL Fantasy Hockey statistics sheet.
“Right over here gentlemen… Please have a seat…” instructed one of the uniformed officers. “Without an appointment you’ll have to wait to meet with the Port Director. In the meantime, we will search your vehicle and have you fill out some paperwork.”
“Is your truck open Mr. Flathers?” questioned one of the accompanying officers.
“Ah, ya, and there’s also a lab pup in the cab, just to give you a heads up.”
“Do you have paperwork for the dog Mr. Flathers?”
“Um…. Strike two, I’m assuming?”
“You are correct sir. Proof of ownership… Title… Vaccination report… We’re going to need to see some paperwork on this animal.”
Rusty’s hands were sweating… NO work permit. NO papers on Link (home in his dresser drawer).
They were about to search the interior of the Chevy C10, when the smell of stale perogies and poutine inside the Customs building overtook his sensory nerves. The pack of beef jerky he devoured on the way over from Skiff Falls early that morning, quickly found its way into the garbage pail in the corner by the entrance.
“Geez Rusty are you ok?” asked Scale. And before Rusty could reply, an alarm went off in the building that sounded like a European war signal.
When the blaring noise subsided, a voice came over the intercom requesting a “cleanup at the main entrance.” Simultaneously, Rusty passed out near the sight of his spew.
Sally had been wheels up for a little over four hours and removed a yellow legal pad from her carry-on bag. There would be a lot of airtime today, and she needed to draft a timeline for her showdown with The Kraken.
First on her list was getting in and out of Perth International airport undetected. She had a pair of Maui Jim Good Fun Fashion shades with green mirrored frames… A Soaker wide brim sun hat… And she would be putting her hair in a low bun to disguise herself from the likes of any would-be paparazzi.
Next on her pad… Once on the ground a meeting was scheduled to take place outside of the luggage terminal. It was at this location where she had been instructed to look for a tall, dark tanned, muscular build, hazel eyed, blond-haired woman.
This person, her cabby, would be identified with the code handle of “Eagle Two”. And the name she would be holding on her cabby poster board would read “Eagle One”. Sally had no clue who she was being paired up with.
Again, everything from the Australian Commonwealth Government was being communicated on a need to know, triple-top-secret, step by step basis. A sort of “get boots on the ground first, and then we’ll go from there” gameplan. Not Sally’s favorite way to fly, with such a dangerous assignment.
Third on her list… Travel the Stirling Ranges. There would be a safehouse in Woodanilling. This would be the drop point for her cabby (Eagle Two) to depart company, and from the looks of the map on her iPhone this would put her about halfway to Bremer Bay.
At that point Sally was hoping to partner up with a certain individual she had requested to join her team. Prior to leaving the States this person had yet to receive security clearance from the Commonwealth. A trusting partner is like a Saucony RunDry mesh ventilating comfort fit performance no-show sock that pairs perfectly with a Nike Air Pegasus olive aura colored running shoe. It “just works”.
The mode of transport to get from Woodanilling to Bremer Bay was TBD. Sally had requested a low-cruising sniper helicopter. Something like an AH-64 Apache or the Bell AH-1 Cobra. But flying under the radar into a touristy resort setting with this bird would be the most diluted approach for remaining inconspicuous. Possibly a Jeep would surmise, but the precise firepower of a gunship helicopter was enticing. She would have to wait and see what was parked for her at the drop point and then get creative from there.
Getting more into her notes… It appeared they would have her checking into the Blackfin Phantom. This was the most expensive hotel in the world. Also, it was an elite offshore submarine that just happened to be cruising nearby in the Sir James John Port.
This submarine offers rooms to exclusive guests to the tune of $180,000 per night. Sally was more inclined to find a surf shack along the beach, but government spending would include a private captain, personal chef and butler, and potential panoramic views of marine life. Also, there was the potential for her to use this underwater vessel, if the opportunity presented itself, to track The Kraken!
Returning the legal pad to her backpack… Sally reclined in the comfort of her plush first-class seat and drifted off into a jet-induced sleep. Her first vision was of Rusty and Link and their departure earlier that day from Wisacode, MN. And then it was Ellie Waylayer. Her newest best friend whom she’d met at the Gold Rope Ranch in Montana.
Ellie had been a saint in providing support for getting her and Rusty back on track. In her dream she could reach out and touch her hand. But for now, “she’s gone… I better learn how to face it”.
– To Be Continued –