Silent Key, page 10
“Four or five days. It’s a grueling trip.” The driver provided a duration longer than Cross expected.
“Five days? That’s longer than it takes to drive from New York to LA, which is twice as far.” Cross offered data that shed some doubt on the driver's claim. He wondered if the roads were poorly maintained in the Outback?
“Right on, Mate. But we don’t drive at night.”
Cross looked at all the extra headlights mounted all over the Outback Expedition vehicle. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“The roos ‘ll take you out.” The driver said matter-of-factly.
Alyne offered confirmation, “Yes, they’re all over at night, they’re like your squirrels, only they can weigh as much as 100 kilos and stand 3 meters tall.”
“Wow, that does sound like a dangerous trip. And what about the snorkel?” Cross pointed at the ductwork affixed to the passenger side windscreen, outside along the A-pillar.
“The reason for the breather is we can get a lot of rain up here in a short amount of time. Better to be prepared when you’re in the Bush.”
“Things are pretty extreme here in Australia,” Cross responded, looking back at Alyne.
Alyne offered a knowing smile.
Cross took in foreign sights for nearly an hour as the setting evolved from suburbs to urban. The driver piloted the safari vehicle through a northern approach route into Australia’s largest city. Their captain navigated the M4 to the M7 to the M2, where the 4x4 passed a sign for Manly Beach. The driver noticed Cross reading the sign and offered some trivia to the man from out of town.
“Some call her the Emerald City, but I prefer Harbor City. Sydney is a city of beaches. There are more than 100 beaches for Sydneysiders.”
“That’s impressive,” Cross replied, keeping an eye out for a view of the Harbor Bridge.
“If we have time after our meeting, I’ll take you to one,” Alyne added from the back.
“Ok. I’d love to see the Opera house too if there’s a chance. I think that’s a required stop for a tourist.”
The driver directed Cross’ attention to the view ahead. “Looks like you can check that box sooner than you think, Mate.”
As the driver merged onto the M1, the occupants got their first glimpse of the famous steel arch of the Sydney Harbor Bridge. The Opera House's white scallops appeared just beyond and below the bridge. The iconic structure was synonymous with the city. Cross had read that the designer was inspired by nature, the shape of shells and a peeled orange. It reminded Cross more of his recent time in Dubai, another Emerald City, and the sailboat-inspired architecture of the Al Arab Hotel and its dhow sail silhouette.
Cross refocused his attention on the Harbor Bridge in the foreground. He noticed something he didn’t expect atop the structure’s towering arches.
“Are those people standing on top of the bridge?” Cross blurted out with surprise.
“Yeah, Mate! It’s a tour. Perhaps you should make that another stop on your punch card?”
“A tour? Scaling a bridge? This place is extreme.” Cross’ view lingered on the tiny row of people filing like ants high above. Soon he was distracted by a phenomenal view of the Opera House to his left.
Their outback expedition vehicle had crossed the bridge, passed by the tranquil Darling Harbor, and arrived at the north entrance to Hyde Park. Alyne addressed the driver.
“Let us out here. Our building is straight through the Park on the south side. We have time for a short walk.”
The driver obliged and beat Alyne and Cross to her pack, pulling it down from the roof rack and presenting it to her cordially. “Have a great stay, Mates. Watch out for them roos.”
Hyde Park was seasoned and distinctive. An old-growth of exotic-looking fig trees lined the main promenade and ran the park's quarter-mile length. The trees' branches stretched to reach each other across a wide central walkway forming a natural corridor. Parisian-style lamp posts with white balls accentuated the path on either side of the tunnel of greenery.
As the pair of gumshoes began their trek through the historic promenade, a black electric taxi silently accelerated away. It had released its occupant just beyond where the outback expedition vehicle had departed moments before. The occupant started a brisk walk toward the park’s central fountain. He matched pace with Cross and Alyne but stayed far behind. The shade of the fig branches kept the intense Australian sun from searing his hairless head.
After a few minutes, the pair approached the park's central feature, the Archibald Fountain. A hexagon-shaped pool encircled a muscular nude statue. The stone figure stood on a pillar in a classic Greco pose at the pool's center. The fountain cast dramatic streams of water like rays of the sun in a fan shape, framing the poised man like the tail of a peacock. Alyne pointed at the statue and offered some trivia as they passed.
“It’s Apollo. The semi-circle of water jets behind him are rays of light spread out to depict the rising sun. I read the inscription once on a lunch break. It refers to the sun as the Star of Day.” The pair continued past the fountain as Cross responded.
“Seems like an appropriate reference for us on our way to inquire about solar panels used on a spacecraft.”
“I thought you might think so,” Alyne stated, leading them down the central path extending the length of the park beyond Apollo. Cross stole a glance to his left at a massive gothic cathedral that reminded Cross of Notre Dame in Paris. He looked right and up through the trees catching a glimpse of Sydney’s Tower Eye. It stood over one thousand feet above them. It was taller than the Seattle Space Needle and far taller than Rocket Sci’s old Electron Rocket, but looking up at the tower reminded him of the launch he had witnessed earlier nonetheless.
The trees beyond the fountain formed another wide natural tunnel. Soon they approached a low reflection pool. The ornamental water feature ran the length of the walkway. The strip of still water reflected the sky and the trees on either side like a mirror. Cross could see large dark-colored fig fruits hanging from the trees' branches above in the reflection of the calm water. He looked up to the trees and directly at the fruit. He had never seen a fig before. The figs were as big as footballs or larger and speckled the branches as far down the leafy tunnel as he could see. Beyond the canopy of branches, Cross could see a few more adorning the trees that lined the reflection pool where the sky spilled in over the water ahead.
Behind them, far to their left, beyond where a casual glance to the side might see him, a bald Polynesian man tracked the partners from behind comm-specs. The Polynesian followed the pair, choosing a path across the shallow water from the man and woman bound for Rocket Sci.
Cross and Alyne were midway the pool's length when Alyne motioned ahead to the skyline at the park's end. She pointed at one of the taller modern buildings, just off-center from the walk. It stood slightly shorter than the Sydney Tower.
“That’s it. There is Rocket Sci headquarters.”
“Impressive.” Cross followed the structure from the ground to its peak with his eyes. “That’s your building?” Cross asked.
“Naw, Yeah, we can’t afford a building like that. We don’t have deep-pocket customers like Space Force in these parts. We rent the top floors, but it’s no schelp.”
Just as Alyne finished her comment, Cross sensed motion in his peripheral vision through the open side of his comm-specs. Peripheral vision is more sensitive to movement and changes in brightness. A bald pedestrian on the opposite side of the pool had stepped on a fallen twig. The snap of the branch could be heard crisply across the water. He turned his head to see a large dark fig fruit falling from a tree limb on the opposite side of the reflection pool. At first, its reflection moved away from Cross at the same rate as the fruit fell, but suddenly the reflection stopped moving. He looked directly at the falling fruit. It sprouted wings two feet long on either side and headed straight toward him and Alyne. It swooped low over the reflection pool, kissed the water, flapped, and turned away just ahead of the pedestrians revealing a jagged webbed profile stretched between arms with clawed hands. The creature had a triangular head with a pointed snout. Beady black eyes stared darkly at Cross as it ascended to a spot on another tree branch where it settled and took its place hanging near other large fig fruit. Cross stopped in his tracks.
“What. Was. That!?”
“A flying Fox. You’ve never seen a bat, Mr. Cross?” Alyne asked, laughing at Cross’ misplaced alarm.
“A flying fox!? We have bats the size of mice! Not vampire bats with a four-foot wingspan! Look,” Cross pointed to a handful of other branches, “they’re all over the trees. I thought those were figs!”
“Figs are the size of mice, Ethan. All of those are fox bats.” Alyne was full-on laughing now, “You should have seen your face.”
Cross laughed back, “I may need to change my under roos.” Cross joked.
“Hope you have a Batman pair, you Bogan.” Alyne laughed and led the foreigner ahead to Rocket Sci.
“Extreme Australia.” He said, shaking off the startle.
The shadowy pursuer watched the detectives approach the lobby of the tall structure. Outwardly, he made no expression of his relief that his miss-step on a fallen branch hadn’t drawn the attention of his prey. Thankfully, the fox bat had taken their attention away from the man. He kept his focus on the inside surface glass of his comm-specs, reached for a familiar button on the ear stay, snapped a photo, and transmitted the image
At the top floor of Rocket Sci’s headquarters, they were greeted by a receptionist. Alyne left her pack at the desk; Cross opted to wear his. They were shown to a conference room where they waited for Rocket Sci’s export control officer and the supply chain lead. The pair had a grand view of the Opera House beyond the green expanse of Hyde Park that they had just traversed from within a small room. Cross and Alyne were a few minutes early for the meeting. Their hosts arrived on time, prepared with answers to the questions Alyne had sent in advance. Christian Malack, Rocket Sci’s supplier management director, entered the room speaking.
“Good Day, Miss Jimmie. We pulled our records on NoviX. It turns out that the only other artifact we’ve received from Solcom besides their registry of suppliers is a statement that NoviX supplies solar panels. Solar panels have no export restrictions, so we never flagged the item as an ITAR concern.” Rocket Sci’s supply chain lead started.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Alyne responded, “This is Ethan Cross. He’s with an American defense contractor with which we do business. He’s been asked to look into Solcom and NoviX as well.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Cross.” Christian shook his hand. “Christian Malack. Supply Chain.” They all sat as the second man offered some information.
“NoviX’s unique nanomanufacturing technology is export controlled. Export law prohibits them from selling the core technology to countries outside the commonwealth or sharing the technical know-how to manufacture. Cameron Syme, Export Compliance.” He offered his hand to Ethan and then to Alyne, who he knew well.
“Ethan Cross.” Cross acknowledged the man’s greeting. “NoviX panels are built into the Intellagama Electric jet. An Australian company called MagiX builds them and delivers them in conjunction with the Chinese, who supply the engines and sell the aircraft worldwide. How does NoviX work that deal?”
“Yes. I looked into that. MagiX can sell products containing NoviX technology, but not to just anyone. The Australian Government closely monitors its international sales. MagiX has a special agreement allowing them to sell the jet commercially, but there are provisos that prohibit NoviX from selling replacement panels directly to end customers.” Syme turned to address Alyne.
“Rocket Sci may be exposed if NoviX hasn’t sought the same permissions or filed for an Australian General Export License, an AUSGEL.” Cameron looked at Cross. “It’s similar to the US State Department’s Technical Assistance Agreement. It would allow NoviX to supply to a Chinese firm like Solcom. Rocket Sci would normally request this type of paperwork from suppliers for any product flagged as export-controlled to ensure all suppliers comply with Export laws. Still, as you heard from Mr. Malack, we thought they were just a merchant supplier of vanilla, solar panels.” Cameron subtlety indicated that the blame for the oversight was on the supply chain organization, not on his export compliance team.
Alyne spoke next. “Have you inquired with the Australian Department of Defense Export Administration about NoviX’s standing?” Alyne knew the Australian DoD administered export law.
“Not yet. The agency is notoriously slow to respond, and besides, we’d prefer to have our own house in order first. It would be best for us to inquire through Solcom or directly with NoviX before involving the authorities. We should get all our ducks in a row, you know.” Syme suggested as he looked at Malack.
“I’ve received no response from Solcom on the matter. I’ve already sent a message to Mr. Roger Morrison, my counterpart in NoviX supplier management, to inquire about their export permissions-No response yet.” Malack stated to show he was on the ball.
“Is there anything else?” Alyne asked the gentlemen.
“We don’t have any other records on file here. I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more help,” stated Syme.
“Do you think NoviX or Solcom is deliberately hiding something?” asked Cross.
Syme asked a question as he formulated a response, “What business is Solcom in again?”
“Solcom is a satellite-based internet service provider,” said Cross, “they transfer high volumes of data between LEO satellites using lasercomm and transmit it to the ground.”
Malack spoke next. He asked. “LEO?”
Cross answered politely. “Low Earth Orbit. Satellites whizzing by as low as 250 miles overhead like Solcom’s can only download data to a ground station once every hour or two. Some LEO satellites are only able to release data they’ve gathered once each day.”
“Why is that?” Malack pressed.
“Each one circles the planet every 90 minutes or completes a full orbit once every two hours. They can only see a small segment of the earth’s surface beneath them at their low altitude. Because of the speed they travel across the sky, a pass over any point on the ground only lasts 8 or 9 minutes.”
“They transfer data between satellites using lasers, you say?” Syme interjected. “That could eliminate costly regulatory and spectrum licensing hurdles. Obtaining a radio frequency license for global usage these days is nearly impossible and at the very least expensive, prohibitively expensive as I understand.”
Syme rubbed his chin. “One thing I’ve observed in the export compliance business over the years is that if there is a technology that her Majesty can realize an economic benefit from exporting, she will find a way. I’m not suggesting she is turning a blind eye or neglecting her duties, but she has limited resources and must choose her priorities. Clearly, the Commonwealth has invested much effort to properly arrange NoviX’s nano-technology export through MagiX for the Intellagama. Perhaps they believe they can say they’ve done their due diligence? After all, the outback still has poor internet coverage. It wouldn’t hurt Oz for our own native technology to improve that situation, even if it required foreign help. Maybe Solcom is delivering the NoviX solar panels to someone using our rockets?”
“It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Holmes?” Alyne winked at Cross. Cross winked back. She was right. Syme’s conjecture was a heavy dose of government conspiracy theory.
Nonetheless, Cross had seen a far more egregious example of government graft with the UK Ministry of Defense concerning EV3, their CEO Cain, and the ARCELOR. Alyne’s comment made him keep his thought to himself, could Solcom be delivering the NoviX panels to themselves to avoid exports laws? But what for? Launching them to the edge of space on a rocket seemed like an elaborate means to avoid customs regulations. Alyne was right. They needed more data.
“If that’s all we have, I guess a visit to NoviX is in order.” Alyne stated bluntly, “we follow the trail of clues to its logical conclusion. Let me see if there are any flights to Brisbane. I’ll be back momentarily” She stood and turned back to Malack and Syme, undeterred by the dead end. “Thank you, Gentlemen. I’ll let you know what we find at NoviX.” She stood and exited the room. The two men sat up, exchanged pleasantries with Cross, and left the room behind her.
So they may be following the scent to Brisbane next, thought Cross. He stood in the vacant room as he waited for Alyne to return. He couldn’t deny Alyne’s Sherlock Holmes parallel. Whatever Solcom was doing with the NoviX panels was still a mystery to him. Cross stared out the window across the flying fox sanctuary of Hyde Park and at the famous scalloped landmark beyond. Cross remembered he had a good friend who lived in Brisbane. Maybe they could look him up.
“Well,” said Alyne as she reentered the room, “it looks like the soonest we can leave would be a morning flight. It’s Friday. We can’t get there before they close, so we’ll have to shoot for when they open on Monday. The same flight runs on Sunday, too, so we either stay here in Sydney for a couple of nights, or we find a place in Brisbane for Saturday and Sunday.”
“I have a college buddy that lives in Brisbane,” Cross thought a Saturday night with his old friend sounded fun, “I could look him up.”
“That may work,” agreed Alyne.
“If we go out in the morning, what time will we arrive in Brisbane?” Cross asked.
“Just before lunchtime on Saturday.”
“Ok, I’ll get in touch with him. What’ll we do until the flight tomorrow?” Cross hoped they could check out the renowned Sydney Opera at the edge of the famous harbor.
“We show you Sydney. That’s what we do.” Alyne responded with a smile. “I know just the place.”
“The Opera House?” Cross made the obvious guess.
“Naw, Yeah. You’ll get your fix of the Opera House, but I mean Bondi. We’re getting you Pie Face, and I’m taking you to Bondi.” Alyne said with enthusiasm.
