CHAPTER FOUR – HAUL

"Come on, just one drink," David urged as we walked down the steps of the House of Records. It was nine o'clock. I said I'd meet Swift at the caryard at midnight. Three hours should be enough, right?

"Alright, but I have to leave at 11:30, okay?" I said.

"That's more like it!" David said with a smile. I was so grateful that he hadn't dogged me with questions about my actions in Room 4. Now, changed into casual clothes and with his dark curled hair whipped by the wind, he seemed completely care-free. I had hastily changed out of my not-so-stunning overalls and splashed some make-up on in the bathroom. I kept telling myself that I was still sticking to the plan, just compromising a little by going to the Pig and Whistle bar.

I couldn't remember a time where I had had so much fun. Aided by a drink or two, myself, David and his three friends from college had laughed, danced and simply chatted non-stop. Time slipped my mind as seemingly more important things took priority in my brain; the memory of David touching my waist as we danced, the awareness that he was looking at me with stolen glances, the way he had pulled me close on the dance floor. I grinned to myself and stumbled into the bathroom.

Inside I reached into my purse to find a comb and paused when I saw my phone light glowing. I picked it up and swallowed hard when I saw who the message was from: my stepfather, Mitchell. "U betta get ur ass here a.s.a.p. Cops lookin 4 u." I stared at that message for a long time before it made any sense. Why were the cops looking for me? I hadn't done anything illegal…

"Oh, shit," I whispered to myself. The files on the computer. Could they have…? I winced as I suddenly realised what an enormous, completely stupid fool I had been. The computers required money to be powered by the public, but to staff, we just had to log on. So I had used my user name; RoseTemplar. Recorded by the computer. I leant back against the wall heavily and buried my face in my hands.

"Whoever he is, darl, he ain't worth it," some drunken girl slurred at me as she slipped out of the bathroom. If only that was all it had been about.

Back out in the main room I found David. "Look, I got a call from my stepfather. I have to get home right now."

"What? Why?"

"I just have to," I responded miserably, grabbing my coat from the back of a chair.

"Oh, is this like another one of those 'don't ask' situations?" he asked, and I nodded. "I wish you didn't have to."

"You're telling me," I muttered before thanking him and his friends for a wonderful night. I raced out the door and hailed a cab for home. If I was nervous when I stepped into the car, it didn't help when I saw the time, 11:30. I hoped sincerely that whatever happened took less than half an hour.


There was a police van outside my house when we arrived. I could have cried. I dropped the cab driver my fare and walked up the steps to my front door with shaking hands, hearing my stepfather talking loudly inside.

"She's in college, for Christ's sake. She's got no interest in the wider world, no ambitions, so why the f would she go and do something like that?"

I walked into the lounge room to see Mitchell and two uniformed men. "Hi," I said weakly as all attention shifted to me. Mitchell was seething.

"Miss Templar?" one of the men said, advancing forward. I nodded, the breath trapped in my throat. "My name is Officer Walker, I'd like to ask you a few questions.Were you at the House of Records this afternoon, 5:45 to be exact?" I nodded again. "We have evidence to suggest that you have accessed restricted and confidential material, and not only that, have made replications of the information. Does this sound familiar to you?"

"I didn't know it was restricted," I lied, "I just came across it."

The officer looked at Mitchell, who begrudgingly left the room to give us privacy. "Improbable," he continued once my stepfather was gone. "Several codes were needed to access these sites, and even then they are impossible to find unless you have been shown how to," the man said, and I saw from his eyes that I had no escape. They knew it was me. "It is a concern to us that you knew these sites existed, and more so that you knew the pathways and codes in order to reach them. This is a serious offence, Miss Templar. Are the documents you printed with you at present?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I knew it was a stupid thing to say, but I had nothing else.

"Miss Templar, we have authorisation to search your bag, and to detain you if necess…" He didn't have time to finish the sentence, because I bolted.


I dashed out through the front door with my bag clutched under one arm. Adrenaline flooded my muscles and I ran faster than I had ever done. I was going to escape.

A great weight hit my back and I sprawled onto the ground. Hands grabbed at my arms as I thrashed about. I heard the sound of handcuffs. I went limp. I was being arrested. I had never done anything remotely illegal before, besides taking a candy snake from a self-serve candy bar when I was twelve, and now I had committed a federal offence.

I was hauled to my feet and pushed across the yard, my mind laughing when it registered Officer Walker reciting the "You have a right to remain silent" speech. No way. This couldn't be happening. I looked over my shoulder to see Mitchell silhouetted in the doorway. He said nothing as I ducked my head to get into the rear of the police van. A metal grate separated me from the two officers sitting in the front seats. "You're in a lot of trouble, Miss Templar," the second officer said as we drove off, with a hint of excitement in his voice. It was probably just a game to him. "Not often we get cases like this. What I wanna know is, how did you know what to do? I mean, not even we know how to get onto that kind of site. Who you workin' for, anyway, Osama? What's a nice girl like you doing…"

"Chris," Officer Walker warned sternly. The younger officer silenced himself. "She doesn't have to answer any of your questions, no matter how idiotic they are. Wait until we get to the station."

We had barely reached the intersection at the end of the street when the van slowed down. "What's this fool doing?" Officer Walker said, leaning out the window. A grey car was crawling across the intersection at walking pace with lights on full beam. Officer Walker blared the siren for a second, but the car kept crawling towards us.

"What on Earth?" Chris said, squinting into the headlights. "Steven, I don't think there's anyone driving that car!"

"You've gotta be kidding me," Walker replied as turned off the van. "We better go check this one out." He turned back to face me, "Don't think about doing anything funny, missy." Both officers had done little more than release their seatbelts before they stopped dead. The grey car had stopped a few feet from the van – and had begun to change. The headlights flipped down and the doors opened, twisting around as the car seemed to bend in two. It reared back on itself and the doors and hood slid down to form some sort of panel. I heard both of the men gasp. They each held one hand on their gun, but did not move. The shifting of metal produced a head, arms and legs, and soon a great humanoid figure stood before us.

"Swift," I whispered in relief, but shrieked along with the officers as he took two giant steps towards us and slammed his fist through the hood of the van. It crumpled like paper.

The officers were screaming as the windscreen shattered, covering their eyes and head just cursing and yelling for all they could. I heard Swift's footsteps as he rounded on the van. The rear doors bent and buckled before being completely ripped off. Swift's face came into view.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked me, his hand held out.