Dan rounded the corner. He saw the man walking down the street ahead of him. He quickened his pace. The man side-stepped into a concealed entrance to the park. One minute he was walking along the street, the next minute he was gone.
Dan broke into a run, his jacket flapping open. He reached the park entrance and stepped through the unlit gate. He slipped off his tie and put it in his jacket pocket. No sense in providing a free weapon to a potential attacker. He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness after the brightly lit street.
‘Here,’ said a voice to his right.
Dan’s head spun round. He looked closer and saw a shadowy figure step out from another narrow path. ‘Mitch?’
A tall, lanky man stepped towards him, a broad grin across his face. ‘Good to see you Dan. What the bloody hell are you doing in Brisbane?’
Dan smiled and the two men shook hands.
‘Long story – you?’
Mitch shrugged. ‘This and that. Basically trying to keep out of trouble.’
‘Doesn’t sound like you,’ said Dan.
‘Yeah, well. Times change, you know.’
Mitch stepped away from Dan and looked over his shoulder back towards the gate.
Dan followed his gaze. ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ said Mitch. ‘Just checking you weren’t followed.’
Dan looked at Mitch. ‘How’ve you been Mitch? Haven’t seen you since they medi-vac’d us out.’
Mitch shrugged. ‘Not too bad, considering. Got a limp and I lost my sight in one eye. I’ve probably got the mirror image of your scars, given I was standing right next to you.’
Dan looked down at his feet and wondered how long after sleep the nightmares would return that night.
‘What about you, Dan? You okay?’
Dan shook his head. ‘Not really mate, no.’ He shrugged. ‘You know how it can be.’
Mitch nodded. ‘What are you doing this side of the world?’
Dan grinned. ‘Learning to surf.’
Mitch snorted. ‘Bollocks.’ He looked around them, then back at Dan. ‘Got time for a drink?’
‘Always,’ said Dan. ‘Somewhere quiet though, okay? I feel like I’m too old for most of the bars around here.’
Mitch grinned. ‘I know what you mean. Come on – there’s a hotel further down by the river. It’s got a courtyard bar tucked away from everyone except paying guests.’
‘You going up in the world?’ asked Dan as he followed Mitch down a winding path which seemed to follow the direction of the main street.
‘Hell no,’ grinned Mitch. ‘I just know I have to look like I belong there. Don’t worry – they’re more laid back in most places around here compared with back home.’
‘Just as well,’ said Dan, as he glanced down at Mitch’s apparel of shirt, board shorts and sandals.
Five minutes later, Mitch had ducked down a small alley behind a row of shops. The pathway opened out into a paved courtyard with a fountain and a bronze statue in the middle of it. A doorway to the left led to a small bar. Dan looked up at the sign above the door.
Patrons only.
Mitch followed his gaze and shrugged. ‘Well, we’re patrons now,’ he grinned and walked up to the bar. He ordered two bottles of premium lager, having decided the draught beer would be an insult to his taste buds, and handed one to Dan.
‘To better times,’ he said, and held his beer up to Dan in a toast.
Dan mirrored the gesture but said nothing.
‘Let’s sit over in the corner out of the way,’ said Mitch, who led the way.
He chose two armchairs which faced the three available entrances to the bar – one from the courtyard, one from the road and another from within the hotel – and gestured to Dan to take a seat. Dan grunted with approval. Old habits died hard. Backs to the wall, facing any potential threat.
Dan took a gulp of the ice-cold beer and set the bottle down on the small table in front of them. ‘So,’ he said. ‘You didn’t say what you were doing over here. How come you’re taking an interest in tonight’s press conference?’
‘I could ask you the same thing,’ said Mitch, watching the other people in the bar.
‘I asked first.’
Mitch smiled. ‘After I was shipped home, there wasn’t much I was good for so the army pensioned me out. I just couldn’t face doing a desk job for the rest of my life with them. Not to mention not wanting to have to be the one sending out people like you and me to do my old job.’ He paused. ‘We were bloody good you know.’
Dan scowled. ‘Not good enough.’
Mitch shrugged. ‘Anyway, like I said, I’m no good at sitting on my arse so I applied for a couple of jobs over here. Security and the like.’
Dan stared at him. ‘Security? Like what? Guarding Delaney?’
Mitch shook his head and put his hand up to placate Dan.
‘Keep your voice down, will you? Christ, you wouldn’t believe who that man has in his back pocket.’ He took a gulp of his beer and began to pick the label off the side.
Dan watched him. ‘You know, one of my old army shrinks would point out that’s a clear indication of someone evading the truth or stalling for time.’
Mitch stopped what he was doing and rolled his eyes. ‘So speaks the expert.’
Dan shrugged. ‘I’m just saying. I’ve hung out with enough of them over the last couple of years.’ He picked up his beer and rubbed his thumb through the condensation collecting on the glass. ‘Get on with the story, Mitch.’
Mitch looked around the room, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He lowered his voice. ‘Secret Service,’ he muttered. ‘I help them with surveillance and stuff.’
Dan raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
Mitch nodded.
‘What’s it like?’ asked Dan.
Mitch pointed down to his clothes. ‘Beats a proper job,’ he grinned.
Dan burst out laughing. Standing up, he pointed at Mitch’s beer bottle. ‘Another of those?’