Disappeared

Thursday 13 February, 7am

‘I last saw my husband at just after 7am on Monday morning,’ says Alice into the telephone handset to a policeperson while reporting her husband missing.

Pause.

‘No nothing different,’ replies Alice.

Alice is a lawyer and speaks with a businesslike tone. Short hair, silky blonde. Looks great in a grey suit, either with pants or skirt, and unbuttoned jacket. Now Alice speaking on a cordless landline phone her palms are becoming moist, and feels a lump developing in her throat.

Pause.

‘Yes I’ve emailed,’ says Alice in a broken voice, attempts to clear her throat and tries again, ‘I’ve emailed a photograph with his mobile numbers.’

Pause.

‘One’s his personal and the other is his work one. Usually he carries both on a weekday,’ Alice explains.

Pause.

‘I’ll drive down to the police station now. I’ll bring our son with me,’ says Alice.

Pause.

‘About 20 minutes,’ says Alice more loudly than she intends to, then ends the phone call. ‘Come on darling. Put your shoes and socks on, we have to drive to the police station about daddy,’ says Alice to her 10-year old son Harry.

* * *

Alice and child Harry walk a block to the street where their car is parked. While walking to the car, a next-door neighbour walks towards them. A lady wearing tight blue jeans, with wavy brown hair and grey streaks. Looks distraught as she walks quickly towards Alice and child.

‘They took my Petey,’ says the neighbour through tears to Alice and Harry.

‘Why?’ asks Alice.

The neighbour wipes her wet eyes and answers, ‘For the bite.’

Alice frowning says, ‘But it wasn’t Petey. It wasn’t even a terrier.’

Harry stares in horror. ‘Oh my god!’ and starts crying.

‘It’s not your fault darling,’ says Alice to comfort Harry and gives Harry a hug.

‘I’m writing to the Seaforth Daily. And they were so rough about it too,’ says the neighbour.

Alice leans forward to hug the neighbour but, about to break down, the neighbour turns on her heel and walks back to her home.

Alice unlocks the car, a blue 4-door, a mid-range Toyota. ‘Sit down Harry.’ Both put on seatbelts, Alice starts the engine, and drives with Harry to the police station.

* * *

Alice parks on the street where the police station is, three doors away, and walks with Harry the roughly 50 metres to the station. The entrance has two chairs, a decorative plant in a pot, safety posters, and a large stainless counter with a bell. Alice rings the bell. After a wait, a medium height male police officer appears.

‘Good afternoon,’ says the policeman.

‘I’m Alice Jamison. I was speaking to someone from here about 15 minutes ago, about my husband. Blake.’

‘The missing person. Yes,’ the policeman twists his torso and leans over to another desk which is behind the counter, picks up a clipboard, and checks some notes. Then moves to the far end of the counter to a computer screen.’

Alice and Harry look towards the screen but can only see the side and the keyboard, not the actual screen.

‘We’ve got nearly everything,’ says the policeman, ‘Just a few gaps here. You’ve already emailed a photograph and his mobile numbers. Yes got those. What are his friends and family that he might contact?’

Alice replies, ‘Here are those details – his sister, his parents, my parents, a couple of ex-colleagues from his previous job. He used to play soccer on weekends and still is in touch with a couple of people from there. I’ve written it all here.’ Alice tears a page out of a notebook and slides it over the counter to the policeman.

‘Thanks. What places did he like to visit on his own, or with you and your son, or with friends?’ asks the policeman.

‘The beach as a family. The soccer fields where he used to play – they used to play at the council fields in Seaforth, Balgowlah, Manly. Otherwise visiting his sister and parents,’ says Alice.

‘Right okay,’ said the policeman typing on the keyboard.

Alice and Harry looked at each other, then the policeman, then at the wall behind the counter.

‘Does your husband have a regular doctor?’ asks the policeman.

‘Not really – just the Seaforth Medical Practice – whoever is available. But he didn’t go regularly,’ replies Alice.

‘So he doesn’t have any ongoing medical needs?’ asks the policeman.

‘No, none,’ replies Alice.

Policeman turns the screen around, ‘I need to fill in this information – height?’

‘Five foot ten,’ replies Alice, then asks, ‘What’s that in centimetres?’

Policeman checks his phone. ‘One hundred and seventy eight. Weight?’

‘Um, seventy five kilos.’ Alice feels relieved to be doing something which took her mind off the stress.

‘Eyes?’ asks the policeman.

‘Hazel,’ answers Alice.

‘Hair?’ asks the policeman.

‘Light brown,’ answers Alice.

Continuing peppering with questions, the policeman asks, ‘Other distinguishing features?’

‘Ears stick out a little. Scar on left jaw – just a line,’ answers Alice somewhat comforted by the interview.

‘Okay. Need to ask for his bank account details so we can monitor transactions,’ says the policeman.

Alice answers, ‘Commonwealth. Branch code 062000. Account number…’ Alice looks up the account number up on her phone and quotes it aloud.

‘Any idea of what might have happened to your husband?’ asks the policeman at last.

‘No I don’t. I have no idea,’ answers Alice firmly.

‘There’s a support line,’ says the policeman turning his head to look at Alice at an angle as if treading on eggshells, ‘for family of missing persons. Here’s the phone number,’ handing Alice a blue card with a phone number and other contact information on it.

Alice took the card blankly and said, ‘If he disappeared he was last seen somewhere. He must have gone somewhere.’

‘Yes but we don’t have any information at this stage,’ explains the policeman.

‘Can you mount a search?’ asks Alice.

‘I know it’s hard on your… family, but where would we mount the search?’ asks the policeman.

‘I don’t know where – isn’t it your job to find out? Where was he last seen – aren’t there cameras? Can’t you trace his phone. Whatever,’ says Alice exasperated.

Harry starts crying, and Alice is crying.

‘Can’t you help us?’ begs Alice.

‘Yes we’ll do what we can but at this stage there isn’t much we can do. If you hear or see anything call us here on this number,’ said the policeman giving Alice a second card.

‘Call this number?’ asks Alice a bit bemused.

‘Yes, there is someone here 24-7,’ says the policeman.

‘How would I see anything? What kind of thing?’ asks Alice.

‘Anything. A neighbour, friend, work colleague says something. Anything you remember. Obviously if your husband contacts you,’ says the policeman realising he is not able to be as helpful as Alice wants.

‘Okay,’ said Alice also realising that the policeman had limited powers to say or do more. He is just doing his job after all.

* * *

Thursday 13 February, 11am

Blake’s manager is a sprightly woman mixed Asian-Caucasian. Economises on words and speaks in clipped voice. Doesn’t drag vowels. Looks at you directly in the upper part of your face, not with constant eye contact but close to it.

‘We need clarity on this internally. We will be speaking to the police, we have to, and of course we want to help. From your perspective, what happened? What was your recent experience with Blake Jamison?’ asks the human resources manager

‘He didn’t show at work on Tuesday, yesterday or today,’ answers Blake’s manager.

‘So he was here on Monday?’ asks HR.

‘Yes he was here on Monday and seemed normal,’ answers Blake’s manager.

‘Normal,’ repeated HR.

‘Except,’ said Blake’s manager thoughtfully frowning, eyeballs straining to the upper left as she pictured a memory. ‘He had a new phone.’

‘And… so what?’ said HR.

‘He’s had the same phone since he joined, personal phone I mean. He didn’t like smart phones. Always used an old one ever since I’ve known him – it didn’t have an internet browser or email. His colleagues joke about it, and he used to lap up the attention it got him. But on Monday he had a different one. A Blackberry.’ Blake’s manager got a distant look in her eyes. ‘And he was on it a lot. Really not like him. Pretty much like anyone else, but not like Blake. I was surprised at how adept he was with it.’

‘Mmm, okay, I’ll write that down,’ said HR.

Blake’s manager continued, ‘It was like there was a different person the few glimpses I got of him,’ and then shook her head. ‘Strange,’ she said.

‘What did you talk to him about? Did you have any meetings on Monday? Anything unusual?’ asks HR.

Breaking her reverie, Blake’s manager returns to the present conversation, ‘He complained about public transport delays to a colleague. Told me why this project would be late and wouldn’t have been if we had the extra person he’d asked for a couple of months ago. Overall normal as far as my interactions with Blake went,’ explains Blake’s manager.

‘Did any of his colleagues notice anything?’ asks HR.

‘I have asked around and no-one noticed anything, except one commented on Blake’s new phone too, said something like “looks like Blake’s got a new toy but it doesn’t seem so new to him”. He left work at about 5.40pm. I’ve checked with the front desk,’ answers Blake’s manager.

‘Did you see him leave at that time?’ asks HR.

‘No. Front desk keep logs from the turnstiles,’ says Blake’s manager.

‘Okay so you have checked in with them. I assume Blake has his pass,’ says HR.

‘Yes he would have used it to exit. I have the pass number. Anyway concierge can check the system with just name or staff ID,’ says Blake’s manager.

‘Alright. Anything else?’ asks HR according to protocol – ensure that there is an opportunity to discuss any other items that might be relevant.

‘No absolutely nothing unusual that I can think of. And everyone I’ve spoken to said the same thing. It was just another day at the office with Blake,’ says Blake’s manager.

‘Thank you. Let me know if anything comes up or if you remember anything,’ says HR in a formal templated tone.

‘You’re welcome. Yes of course. What’s the next step for us?’ asks Blake’s manager feeling the conversation is not yet finished.

‘Well nothing really. We’ll make a statement to the police, and leave it with them. Any questions for me?’ offers HR.

‘I mean – I don’t mean to sound callous. But we’re down a team member now. When can we hire a replacement?’ asks Blake’s boss.

‘I’ll need to check the policy. It’s going to relate to how the headcount budget works. How urgent is it? It’s never easy or good to be a person down, but are there any specific projects or deliverables affected?’ asks HR.

‘We’ve got a lot on now so it would be good to have a forward plan in case this drags on and he’s not back at work for a while. I know it’s contingent but otherwise we’re in the dark. What if he’s gone for weeks or months?’ asks Blake’s boss keen to ensure that this question gets asked.

‘I’ll check the policy and with Finance and let you know,’ answers HR.

‘Thanks. Bye,’ says Blake’s boss feeling satisfied.

* * *

Thursday 13 February, 10pm

‘Suspect 0213C is cooperating but so far has not provided any useful information,’ says an interrogation professional whose job it is to question those brought in on suspicion. He is studying law part-time and has a BA in European History. He has security training and has been with the service since the final year of university studies for his BA.

‘What have you tried?’ asks his manager.

‘Been taking a simple approach. We’ve been waterboarding him since he was brought in. Started about 8.30. Still going,’ answers the interrogation professional.

‘Did you try any questioning before that?’ asks his manager.

‘Nup. Could tell he’s the type to not give anything away if asked politely. Now he’s on the roller. We’re spinning him round and pouring water with ice,’ answers the interrogation professional.

‘But that hasn’t worked? Has he told us anything?’ asks his manager.

‘He’s told us nothing, absolutely nothing,’ says the interrogation professional pleased to be able to say something unambiguous.

‘Well just keep on,’ directs his manager.

‘Yeah we’re gonna keep going,’ says the interrogation professional in an assured tone.

‘How long until the changeover?’ asks his manager

‘New shift starts at 4am,’ answers the interrogation professional.

‘Okay tell me about the next one – what is it? 0214C,’ asks his manager moving on to talk about the next captive on the list.

* * *

Friday 14 February, 3pm an hour before shift change

‘Okay what can I tell you… Cell B came in last night, I was his first shift. He’s started screaming, but didn’t say anything interesting or useful,’ says the interrogation professional to his relieving colleague.

‘Any hints of anything useful?’ asks the replacement interrogation professional preparing for his shift.

‘He's given nothing away. Maybe he's got nothing to give away. Maybe he's got something. Need to keep trying,’ says the interrogation professional.

‘What kind of info are we expecting? Who is he?’ asks the relieving colleague.

‘Have you read the brief?’ says the interrogation professional wondering why he needs to repeat what has already been written down.

‘Yeah I read it but it’s – brief,’ says the relieving colleague unfazed by the show of impatience.

‘I know it doesn’t say much. So following what it does say – anything to do with plans for violence, disrupting public places, or disrupting events,’ says the interrogation professional.

‘Pretty straightforward,’ says the relieving colleague looking the other in the eye.

‘He’s said nothing along those lines. Barely said anything except ask me questions about where I’m from, whether I’m married, and so on. He's taken a lot of waterboarding. But some do hold out. So keep going...’ says the interrogation professional.

‘How long are we going to go with this approach?’ asks the relieving colleague.

‘For your shift at least. Spin 'im around too,’ replies the interrogation professional, while thinking ‘what the hell else is there to do? This is what you signed up for idiot.’

‘Kind of nasty especially when there’s nothing to pin on him,’ says the relieving colleague.

‘Yeah it’s tough,’ says the interrogation professional while thinking ‘life’s tough get over it’. He continued, ‘The three others aren’t much better, though cell A has started talking and cell C gave some info. It’s gone over to the analysts Cell D has just been giving cheek and shitting himself – it stinks in there. Made me mad, felt like killing ’im. His name’s Blake. I started taunting him. Shithead.’

‘I hate that too. Will try to control myself,’ says the relieving colleague with a touch of sarcasm.

‘Okay good luck. Have fun,’ says the interrogation professional feeling they were moving back towards common and familiar ground.

The relieving colleague muttered under his breath as the other left room, ‘F.. you. Have fun yourself - f-’ing pr. .’ It gave him a sense of strength in his own convictions, kind of a rock-titude.

* * *

Monday 17 February

‘My husband has disappeared, we don’t know where is and he hasn’t made contact. … What does that mean for our life insurance?' asks Alice into the phone.

Pause.

‘Yes I suppose that's what I'm asking - how would I make a claim?’ asks Alice relieved to have clarified and admitted to herself precisely why she had phoned her and her husband’s life insurance provider.

Pause.

‘Okay a death certificate. … The Coroners Court,’ repeats Alice slowly.

Pause.

‘No known circumstances. He just didn't come home one day,’ says Alice stating openly all that was known.

Pause.

‘Okay he needs to be presumed dead,’ repeats Alice slowly.

Pause.

‘A bit early? Well how long do we need to wait? I mean I didn’t intend to make a claim today – I really just phoned for information,’ explains Alice.

Pause.

Alice’s eyes widen and repeats what was told her, ‘Usually 10 years,’ then ends the call, ‘A long time. Okay. Thanks for your help.’

* * *

Sunday 23 February

At the family home of Alice, Blake and Harry, Alice answers the door bell opening the door and sees Blake standing on the front door step and greets her with a faint smile, ‘Alice.’

Alice says half-joyfully and half-sorrowfully at Blake’s pensive and haggard appearance, as well as at the unexpected situation over the last six days, ‘Blake. Where have you been?!’

They hug gingerly.

Alice leans back from the hug and asks again, ‘Where have you been?’

Blake puts his finger to his lips, gently but decidedly shoves past Alice, walks into the kitchen where Alice’s phone is charging in the usual place, picks up the phone, slides off the back, and pulls out the battery and SIM in a matter of two seconds. The job is done by the time Alice has reached him in the kitchen, ‘Why did you do that?’

‘Sorry darling, they’re listening. I was taken in a truck, I don’t know where. In a room with water poured on me. What they call waterboarding I think,’ says Blake in a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone.

‘What do you mean?’ demands Alice.

Ignoring Alice’s question, Blake continues, ‘I don’t know why. Captured basically tortured. They asked me questions, lots of questions, over and over. Didn’t get much sleep. Spun me around.’

Alice studies Blake carefully because what he is saying is so strange, but Blake is usually pedantically pragmatic, and Alice has never known Blake to make up fantasies.

Alice stammers, ‘They did wh… you’ve been tortured my g… Are you okay?’ Alice realised she had no idea what to say to a person who had been tortured. It was like her husband was from another species, or at least culture. ‘You have to be checked by a doctor. But why you why? What did you do? What are we going to do? We have to go to the police.’

Blake replies, ‘Either I made a mistake or something’s changed. I have to go again. Where’s Harry?’

‘He’s in there asleep,’ Alice informs Blake while pointing to their main bedroom.

Blake goes in to the room where they usually slept as a couple, where Alice had indicated.

The child Harry in his deep and innocent sleep looks beautiful to Blake. Blake pads in, sits gently on the bed beside Harry, leans in and slides an arm under Harry’s back, and brings the child to his chest for a hug. Blake kisses Harry on the lips, then on the cheek, and finally on the forehead. A tear rolls down Blake’s cheek, and Blake wonders whether it’s because he has missed Harry or may never see him again. Blake withdraws his arm, slowly shifts his weight back to his feet, stands, and carefully walks from the room. If Harry woke, Blake would have no idea how to part, or whether he would at all despite Blake’s feeling sure that there would be danger wherever his person was.

Emerging from his goodbye, Blake says to Alice, ‘I’m leaving now. Be careful,’ as if that were enough explanation for Alice which it most certainly was not, ‘I don’t know how this is going to end.’

‘What do you mean you’re leaving? Where on earth are you going?’ demands Alice. ‘Blake you have to tell me what is going on. What has been going on?’

Choosing just one of Alice’s questions, the one most relevant to his own next actions, Blake answers, ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Why are you going anywhere? You’re not disappearing again,’ says Alice.

‘I have to,’ says Blake, ‘you, Harry might be in danger with me here.’

‘What are you talking about? What are you involved in?’ asks Alice, panicked. She grips Blake’s arms.

‘I can’t explain now, it would take too long, and…’ he looked at Alice who seemed to be listening and looking at him more carefully than he had ever seen her do before except perhaps when he asked her to marry him all those years before, ‘…dangerous.’

‘Dangerous,’ Alice pondered aloud. ‘We need to tell the police! They’ve given me a number to call them on. I should be phoning them now.’

‘No don’t,’ said Blake firmly, ‘don’t call the police, it’ll only get messier.’

‘Blake I can’t live like this. You have to stay and you have to tell me something,’ said Alice desperately clinging more tightly to Blake’s left hand and right forearm.

‘There are things I can’t tell you. It could hurt you and Harry. You know nothing. That’s best. If I can come back, I will. Unlikely though,’ says Blake, glancing down, then peels Alice’s hands off and wraps his arms around Alice.

They hug close as if for the last time, or at least for a long time. Blake breaks away, trains his eyes straight ahead as if Alice were not there, and leaves through the backdoor.

* * *

Monday 24 February, 5am

Blake walks with a limp, and feels like someone is behind him. Catches a bus to the city. In the city, catches a train to his mother’s home.

Sitting on the train a suited man sits behind and another in front.

‘At the next station you will get off the train with us. Don’t turn around.’

The train stops, and Blake alights with the two men one in front and the other behind. The man behind shoots Blake in the head, Blake falls forward, and the man in front shoots Blake in the back twice.

* * *

Monday 24 February, 3pm

Internet TV news says a 'suspected terrorist' was shot and killed.

‘In Sydney’s north, a terrorist was apprehended today, and while trying to escape was shot dead by police.’

Alice sees the news while washing up. The landline phone sounds and Alice answers, ‘Hello.’

Pause.

‘Yes I’m Alice Jamison.’

Pause.

Alice replies, ‘Yes I can come down to the police station – but what for?’

Pause.

In shock Alice repeats like an automaton, ‘To identify a body?’

End.