Sensitive New Age Spy by Geoffrey McGeachin Read Free Book Online Page A

tanker and heard about the proposed evacuation order on the radio, but Daddy said there was nothing for us to worry about.’
    That was interesting. While half the city’s emergency personnel were panicking about the possibility of a great big bang, the Priday clan were happily sipping their fruit juice and coffee without a care in the world.
    ‘You studying any part of the Bible in particular, Ms Priday?’ I asked.
    ‘I help Daddy with his sermons sometimes, and right now we’re looking at the story of Jonah.’
    ‘And the whale,’ I said.
    ‘Exactly! Did you know we had a pair of whales right here in the harbour this year, Mr Murdoch? I think whalesare the most wonderful of all God’s creatures.’
    That pair of whales, like thousands of Japanese tourists, had chosen Sydney for their honeymoon. I’d photographed them getting hot and heavy in the waters near the Opera House, and WorldPix had made a stack of money syndicating the images internationally.
    Cristobel stood up and tied a tropical-print sarong around her waist. ‘I’ll see what’s keeping Louise with your drink, Mr Murdoch.’
    With that body and in that bikini I should have been thinking lustful thoughts, but she was just too damned wholesome. Plus I was wondering why the Reverend had dismissed the evacuation order. Was he just a father reassuring his daughter, a man of the cloth putting his faith in the Lord, or was there some other reason?
    Louise and Cristobel wandered back out onto the terrace a few minutes later, side by side and smiling, their arms around each other’s waist. Louise handed me a tall glass full of ice and Cristobel filled it with Italian sparkling mineral water from the bottle she was carrying. She beamed at Louise. ‘Isn’t she beautiful, Mr Murdoch?’
    ‘What wonders God hath wrought,’ I said.
    Cristobel stared at me. ‘Are you saved, Mr Murdoch?’
    I shook my head. ‘Bit of a lapsed Presbyterian, actually. I was expelled from Sunday School for disruptive behaviour and I sort of lost interest in religion after that.’
    ‘You shouldn’t say something like that to Cristobel,Mr Murdoch,’ Louise said. ‘She might just decide to take you on as a challenge.’
    ‘Is she making any headway with you?’ I said, and immediately felt a little embarrassed for saying it.
    Louise smiled. ‘With Cristobel’s guidance, I have come to understand the reasons for some of my earlier indiscretions.’
    I’d seen some of those indiscretions, as had anyone else who’d bought the June 2003 issue of Bloke . They’d also seen a whole lot more besides. Bloke wasn’t the kind of magazine anybody bought for the articles, and the pictures left nothing to the imagination. Apparently there were even some Macquarie Street gynaecologists who put their subscriptions down as tax-deductible research.
    The Sunday gossip columns had had a field day when the middle-aged convicted fraudster and the spunky young centrefold party-girl became pen pals, in the truest sense of the word. And when Priday was finally paroled, Louise was waiting at the gate. The fact that the marriage had now lasted three years surprised everybody.
    There was a melodic toot and the crunch of tyres on gravel, and we headed out to the driveway to greet the master of the house.
    Back in Sunday School I was taught that when God talked directly to one of the faithful it was to ask them to help the sick or the lame, or to lead His people out of slavery. These days the first thing the Almighty appears to request is that His spiritual representative here on earth set himselfup with some really smooth wheels. And wheels don’t come any smoother than the sleek, silver-grey Mercedes-Benz Maybach 57S that the Reverend Laurence LaSalle Priday was driving. A particularly nice automobile, and one that got you very little change from a million bucks.
    Priday climbed elegantly out of the Maybach’s leather seat. He was tall, tanned, fifty-ish and fit-looking, his carefully styled hair