Sabotage on the Solar Express, page 5
‘Ah yes, the mystery gift.’ Uncle Nat filled a cup from the coffee pot. ‘Let’s take a closer look.’
As they made their way to the front of the room, Hal spotted Tom Flinch, dressed in a smart blue suit and tie, standing beside Kira’s camera. She was leaning against the wall, looking at her phone, while he anxiously surveyed the room. Hal had expected the news reporter would look smug after getting his interview with Francisco, and he wondered if it hadn’t gone as planned. ‘Marianne’s not here yet. Neither is Boaz.’
‘They’ll be arriving soon,’ Uncle Nat replied as they approached the stage. He leaned forward to examine the model. No one stopped him or told him off, and, not for the first time, Hal thought how much easier it would be to investigate things if he was a grown-up.
‘Hal!’ Uncle Nat whispered excitedly. ‘Look at this mechanism, attaching the piston to the wheel. That is a functioning crankshaft.’ He looked at Hal with delight. ‘Your powers of observation are exceptional. Look, the wheels are lifted – what, two, maybe three millimetres above the tracks so they can turn around? Exactly like your sketch.’ He leaned back to admire the miniature locomotive. ‘How utterly extraordinary! Do you see how the piston is sectioned so you can see the workings of the machine? I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind if someone gave this to me as a gift. It must be worth a small fortune!’
‘Which makes it even stranger that the card wasn’t signed,’ Hal pointed out.
‘August has many admirers. Whoever sent this wanted to get his attention. I wonder if the gift-giver wanted to reveal themselves in person, so that August might be more favourably disposed to agree to whatever it is that they want?’
‘Do you mean the model could be a bribe?’
‘If you gave me this, I’d let you have anything you wanted,’ Uncle Nat replied. ‘Now, I wonder where the operating switch is?’ His fingers twitched, and Hal could see he was thinking about picking it up.
‘Ladies and gentleman, please can I have your attention.’ Uncle Nat and Hal both jumped guiltily as Michelle’s peppy voice came through the speakers. ‘If you’d like to take your seats, we’ll begin.’
Withdrawing from the stage, Hal and Nat went to sit down.
‘Hey, look, it’s that couple from The Ghan,’ Hal said, seeing Karleen and Kenny at the refreshment table. They were both dressed in long shorts and colourful T-shirts, and Karleen had on a cheerful headscarf. ‘I wonder why they’re here,’ he added, watching Kenny pouring coffee while Karleen loaded up her handbag with pastries. ‘They look like they’ve wandered into the wrong room.’
‘Let’s sit there.’ Uncle Nat pointed to the only two adjacent empty seats in a reserved row.
Shuffling along the aisle, Hal found himself sitting down beside an imposing woman who was taller than Uncle Nat. She was fair-skinned, with a platinum-blonde crop, and wearing a bottle-green trouser suit. Beyond her sat an athletic man, dressed in a charcoal suit. He had short black hair, styled with a quiff, and a sceptical expression.
‘Ms Deane,’ Uncle Nat leaned forward. ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Nathaniel Bradshaw, and this is my nephew, Harrison. We are friends of August’s and travelling on the Solar Express today.’
‘Nice to meet you, Mr Bradshaw,’ Leslie Deane replied. She gestured to the man beside her. ‘This is Terry Chang. We’re looking forward to seeing what August Reza’s got in store for us today. He sure did talk big at dinner last night.’
Mr Chang nodded in greeting and then agreement with Leslie Deane.
‘Hal!’ Marianne called from across the room and waved. She was stood beside Kira’s camera. He grinned, feeling a thrill of excitement.
‘Showtime,’ Uncle Nat said, under his breath.
The room was crackling with anticipation.
Michelle stepped on to the stage holding a microphone. ‘Good morning, everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Michelle Abbott. and I’ll be taking care of you today. On behalf of Reza Technologies, I’d like to welcome you to an historic occasion. On this auspicious day, the world will witness – and some of you will take – the first ever journey of the Solar Express: a train for our future.’ She paused for applause. ‘At the end of this press conference, electric minibuses will transport you to Alice Springs station where the Solar Express awaits.’ There were excited murmurs in the audience. ‘But first, please, everybody put your hands together as I welcome to the stage August Reza . . .’
Appearing from behind a curtain, accompanied by a burst of music and tumultuous applause, August stepped up and walked to the middle of the stage. He paused, smiling as people clapped, then took the central seat at the table.
‘. . . Francisco Silva,’ Michelle continued, and there was another burst of music and applause, but this time no one appeared from behind the curtain. A blonde girl rushed over to Michelle and whispered something to her. ‘My apologies,’ Michelle said. ‘I have made a mistake. Mr Silva is already at the station, making sure the Solar Express is ready for her first journey with passengers.’
The room rippled with a tide of whispers. Hal looked at the third empty chair and wondered if Mr Silva had done his interview with Tom Flinch that morning.
‘But now is the moment I know you’ve all been waiting for,’ Michelle went on, trying to get back the audience’s attention. ‘Please put your hands together and welcome to the stage . . . Mr Boaz Tudawali, inventor of the Solar Express.’
There was another stab of music as Boaz appeared. A blaze of camera flashes went off, accompanied by raucous applause and a wolf-whistle. Sitting down next to August, Boaz leaned forward to the microphone. ‘Stop it, Ma,’ he said, squinting against the flashes. ‘I told you, there’ll be plenty of time for pictures later.’
‘Friends,’ August said, as the laughter and applause died away. ‘Today is the day. Today we celebrate the possibility of a future where no fossil fuels are burned. Where the challenge of the climate crisis is met.’ There was a cheer. ‘Where networks of clean, efficient, fast and affordable railways connect communities and create jobs.’ Hal noticed Leslie Deane lean forward in her seat. August held up his hand. ‘As with many of the solutions for the problems our planet faces, of the hundreds of applicants who entered the Reza’s Rocket competition, the most inspiring ideas came from young people. As soon as I saw the design for the Solar Express, I knew we had the solution we’ve all been craving, and it came out of the mind of this young man beside me: Boaz Tudawali.’
‘Hi.’ Boaz waved, and there was an awkward pause. ‘Oh, you’re expecting a speech?’ He grinned. ‘I haven’t written anything down. You see, I think it’s pretty simple. There’s power in the air we breathe, the light by which we see, and the water that we drink. My regenerative hydrogen fuel cell offers us a way to generate power for a train, or any other vehicle, cleanly. There’s no need for batteries. All we need is air, water, and sunlight. Here in Australia, we’ve got lots of all three.’
‘We don’t have much water,’ came the sarcastic muttering of a journalist in the front row.
‘You’re wrong there, mate,’ Boaz replied. ‘We don’t have much rain, but beneath the earth is the Great Artesian Basin. That’s a huge lake three times the size of France. Back when the line to Alice used steam engines, they refuelled at pumping stations that bored straight down into it.’
‘Bo-Bo clever!’ came a young voice.
‘Thanks, JJ.’ Boaz waved. ‘That’s my little sister, everybody. Watch out for her. She bites.’ The audience laughed warmly.
‘At Reza Technologies,’ August Reza said as the laughter subsided, ‘my partner, Francisco Silva, has led a team of chemists, computer scientists, and engineers, working with Mr Tudawali on his train’s design. We hope that in the future, the Tudawali RFC will offer a completely clean alternative to all battery-powered electric vehicles, not just trains.’ There was a murmur, and he lifted his chin to indicate that he hadn’t finished talking. The room fell silent. ‘I am announcing today a significant investment in the Northern Territory, where Reza Technologies are leasing land to build the world’s largest solar farm. Energy from the solar farm and water from the Basin will be used to produce hydrogen on an industrial scale.’ A couple of cameras clicked. ‘We’re here to tell you today that hydrogen is the clean energy of the future, and the Solar Express is a symbol of what is possible.’
The room burst into applause. People were on their feet.
Leslie Deane was standing too, but Hal noticed she wasn’t clapping.
‘Mr Reza,’ a journalist called out. ‘Mark Smith, New York Times. Isn’t hydrogen a volatile gas? Could the Solar Express go the same way as the Hindenburg?’
‘Does a train look like a giant bag of gas, floating in the sky, to you, Mr Mark Smith of the New York Times?’ Boaz replied, laughing. ‘You don’t need to worry. Hydrogen is safer than gasoline, and hydrogen tanks are rigorously tested. They don’t leak.’
Voices called out a barrage of questions as Michelle appeared with her arms up to show that the conference was ending. August and Boaz waved and left the stage.
‘Hal,’ Marianne called, crossing the room to talk to him. ‘I asked Pop. He said I could go in the bus with you.’ She indicated with her thumb, pointing over her shoulder. ‘Although Woody’s got to come too.’
Woody waved but didn’t smile.
‘Uncle Nat thinks the mechanisms on the Rocket model work. He says there must be a switch that turns it on.’ They turned to look at the model in its glass case, still on the stage.
‘Oh dear!’ Marianne said loudly. ‘Pop’s forgotten his model train. I’ll bring it for him.’ No one stopped her as she marched up to the stage and lifted it down, returning to them with her eyes shining. ‘Let’s open it and see.’
‘Hal, we should head out to the lobby and wait for the bus,’ Uncle Nat said, turning away from Leslie Deane. He smiled when he saw what Marianne had in her arms. ‘Although, perhaps we should get, er, a bottle of water from the bar, first?’ Uncle Nat gave Hal and Marianne a conspiratorial look and they all nodded at once.
‘Woody, could you get us a couple of bottles of water please?’ Marianne asked, putting the model down on the nearest table. Woody hesitated. ‘I’ll be safe. Mr Bradshaw’s here and you’ll be able to see me from the bar.’
Woody nodded and lumbered away.
Uncle Nat leaned over the model. ‘See where the bottom of the glass meets the wood. There’s sealant or fluid holding the case together. I wonder . . .’ Checking his jacket pockets, he pulled out a thin leather wallet.
‘What’s that?’ Marianne asked.
‘A gentleman’s grooming kit,’ Uncle Nat replied, opening it, and sliding out a metal nail file. He inserted the tip between the glass and the wood of the model, and pushed it up, piercing the seal as he pulled at the case. There was noise, like gummed paper peeling off a wall, and a thunk as the glass case lifted off. ‘Well, that was easy!’ Uncle Nat said, and then stopped, because something odd had happened to his voice.
Hal and Marianne laughed.
‘You sound like a cartoon character,’ Hal said. ‘Say something else.’
‘I don’t know why my voice has become squeaky,’ Uncle Nat said. The first words of his sentence were pitched high, but by the end his voice was normal again.
‘Oh no!’ Marianne pointed at the Rocket. ‘Look!’ The shining silver metal of the engine’s round boiler had tarnished, becoming black and dull. ‘How did that happen?’ She looked from Hal to Uncle Nat in panic. ‘Pop will know we opened it! He’s gonna be so mad.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE VANISHING
When they stepped off the minibus at Alice Springs station, Hal shielded his eyes from the glare of the morning sun and saw a small crowd gathered behind a cordon.
Woody was carrying the Rocket model. Uncle Nat had put the glass case back over it, and Marianne had insisted the bodyguard take it, saying it was too heavy. Hal wondered if she was planning to blame him for the strange discolouring of the locomotive.
When Reza’s sleek black limousine arrived, people waved and held up their phones to take selfies with the billionaire. August and Boaz got out of the back to a raucous cheer.
‘We should get Boaz to look at the Rocket model,’ Uncle Nat said.
‘Why?’ Hal asked.
‘It was odd that my voice went squeaky when I lifted off the case. There’s only one thing I know that does that to a person’s voice.’
‘Helium!’ Hal said, remembering a helium balloon he’d messed around with at his friend Ben’s birthday party.
‘Yes. I’m wondering if the locomotive case was sealed to keep the helium inside. Perhaps releasing the helium is what made the locomotive change colour.’
‘But how?’ Hal asked.
‘Goodness knows.’ Uncle Nat shook his head. ‘I’m not a scientist. I don’t know enough about metals or gases to answer that question.’
‘Boaz does.’ Marianne nodded. ‘But he’s a bit busy launching his train.’
‘It seems like a very particular thing to do,’ Uncle Nat said. ‘Create something that changes colour when it’s exposed to air. I don’t understand what reason a person would have for doing such a complicated thing. Unless . . .’
‘Unless the reason isn’t a nice one,’ Marianne finished his sentence.
‘Precisely.’
Hal recognized the look of concern on his uncle’s face and his pulse quickened. He put his hand to his pocket, feeling the reassuring rectangular shape of his sketchbook. If someone was planning to mess with August Reza, then he was going to make sure they didn’t get away with it.
All thoughts of detective work were swept from Hal’s head as they arrived on the platform and he saw the Solar Express. Here, at last, was Boaz’s train. It looked awesome.
The locomotive was boxy and scarlet with silver handles and pipes. The windows of the driver’s cabin were high up, in the square nose, and a flag displaying the blue sun logo flew from its roof. Four shimmering silver carriages were lined up behind it, each with the crest of a blue sun emblazoned on the side. They had cyan-tinted windows and a curved roof of glistening black solar panels. At the back of the train was a rusty blue and yellow NR3 diesel-electric engine.
‘Why’s that old loco attached to the train?’ Hal asked his uncle.
‘This is a test run of a new prototype. I’d imagine the NR3 is there to rescue us if the Solar Express breaks down.’
‘I thought Boaz’s locomotive would look more futuristic,’ Hal mused, ‘like the carriages.’
‘They have to be certain the prototype works before they worry about making it look pretty.’
Michelle clapped her hands together and everyone fell silent.
Kira had her camera on a shoulder mount and was filming the train.
August stepped on to the red carpet that led to the open door of the first carriage. ‘It is with great pride that I – that we –’ he gestured for Boaz to join him on the carpet – ‘invite you to take the first ever ride on the Solar Express.’
Photographers took pictures and then Michelle passed a bottle of champagne to August that was attached to the locomotive by a red ribbon. August presented the bottle ceremoniously to Boaz, who lifted it high and said, ‘Here’s to healing some of the harm humans have done.’ With the ribbon taut, he swung it hard against the body of the engine. It smashed and everyone cheered.
‘Let’s ride these rails,’ August said. ‘Cleanly!’ He held out his arm to Boaz, and they boarded the train together.
Hal glanced at Marianne, to see if she minded, but her expression was unreadable.
‘It’s time for our guests to climb aboard,’ Michelle said, going to stand beside the carriage door with her clipboard. ‘The Solar Express is about to depart.’
Tom positioned himself beside her, using the opportunity to interview the passengers as they climbed aboard.
‘Ms Deane, Minister for Transport, what are your first impressions of the Solar Express?’ Tom asked, thrusting his microphone at the stony-faced woman.
‘Reza Technologies offers great opportunities for today’s Australians.’ Leslie Deane forced a smile. ‘This new train could pioneer a new wave of environmentally responsible transport, not just for us, but for the whole world. Let’s just hope the technology works.’
‘Good day, sir, what’s your name?’ Tom asked an elderly gentleman at the head of the queue, whom Hal recognized as the white-haired man he’d drawn yesterday in the lobby. Today he was dressed smartly in a baggy brown suit and leaning on a walking stick.
‘Bobby Benson . . .’
‘Did you hear that?’ Uncle Nat asked, looking over his shoulder.
‘What?’ Hal followed his uncle’s gaze along the empty platform.
‘I thought I heard banging.’ Uncle Nat’s brow furrowed as he looked around. ‘It must have come from the crowd.’ He shook his head a little. ‘Come on, we’d better join the line. This is one train I refuse to miss.’
Hal and Nat were the last passengers to board the Solar Express, and Michelle took the opportunity to thank Uncle Nat for letting her attend last night’s dinner. ‘PR isn’t really the job for me,’ she confessed. ‘I studied physics at university. I’ve got a master’s degree in it. I was hoping to make a good impression.’
‘Did it work?’ Uncle Nat asked.
‘Hope so.’ Michelle held up crossed fingers.
They mounted the steps into a lounge car decorated in cyan and white, with pale wood furnishings. Shallow, semicircular tables with chairs were attached to one wall, while along the other was a long sofa seat. At either end of the carriage were two screens. Each showed a graphic featuring information about their journey, alternating with a camera feed of the view from the front of the train. The graphic was a map of Australia with Alice Springs clearly marked and an icon of a locomotive glowing beside it. A six-digit clock above the map showed the time in hours, minutes and seconds.
