Pirates a League of Brothers - H, J, Macey (novels for teenagers TXT) 📗

what interest we get first. I know of no other agency offering, what we are about too. I have no idea how it will be received if it is received at all, we will have to wait and see. Now if you could call me; say on Thursday morning, I may, and I mean may have an idea if it will work. Until then I'm afraid, it's a waiting game," he said shrugging his shoulders and smiling sympathetically. Then giving Sera his hand over the table, to signify their meeting was over.

 

He gave her his card, as he saw her outside the door. Sera walked away from this interview, a little happier than she did from the accounts office. The fit lady followed at a discreet distance until Sera moved onto the platform of the rattler train. Satisfied Sera was heading home, the fit lady retraced their steps, back to the accountant's office. She had a short conversation with the young receptionist, then used a public telephone box, to make a call to her superiors. 

 

Chapter 4

As Sera left the house Peter once again, scanned the job vacancy's columns, there had to be something in here he could do. He had spent years in college and university, training to be a successful man in the legal business world. 'You'd have been better training to be a bricklayer,'  he thought and in pure frustration thumped his hand onto the wooden floor.

 

As there was a building boom going on at the moment, the papers were full of vacancies for building contractors. Peter had gone to one builder, for a job as labour, they had laughed at him when he had to fill out a form with his work history. They gave him a brick carrying hod, with ten bricks in it, then told him to run up a ladder, with it on his shoulder.

 

Needless to say, he failed the test miserably, as he didn't even get off the ground. It was a humiliating experience, which he did not want to repeat. So though numerous, those adverts were not considered at all. It looked like he only had one talent, and that was sniffing out loopholes in legal documents. Not the most sought-after job, at this very moment it would seem, as no one wanted anyone.

 

He was still depressed when Sera came home, full of hopeful enthusiasm. Telling him in detail about her conversion, with the manager of spear hands. She had had a thought, on the way home on the train. Peter might be able to offer his skills, in the same way as Sera, in a freelance capacity. They could work from the same office; at their next meeting, she would put it to the manager.

 

Tuesday Sera and Peter did the rounds of the shops and cafes in Armadale again. Just in case, something had turned up. A few more days part-time would help, just two-day permanent work would give them some spare cash for miscellaneous items.

 

As they and their shadows went about the town, a man carrying a large tool case entered the house, at a hundred and nine railway parade Armadale. Swiftly, he set about doing the job he was sent there to do. He was finished well before Sera and Peter returned, and there was no evidence he had ever been there at all. 

 

Wednesday Sera came back from the phone box, a little depressed. As the manager of spear hands, had nothing yet to offer. He was still full of enthusiasm, over their planned project. He had made pleasing sounds, at Sera inclusion of Peter's skills into the bargain. He was still hopeful that their proposed adventure would succeed. He would still continue to promote their scheme to all his clients and even other agencies.

 

Thursday they again had Wednesdays West Australia paper, spread on the floor. It had come from the same dustbin, as had the Sunday's addition. Only this time Peter had company, on his walk to Westfield and back, at seven in the morning although he didn't know about it. When the man returned to his car, he gave his report over the radiotelephone.

 

Midday Friday, Peter went out to check the post box, as usual not expecting to find anything other than junk mail. He stared suspiciously, at the brown business envelope he found in it. As it was addressed to him personally, not to the occupants as normal, but to him in person.  

 

'Private and confidential, for the attention of Mr P Marten only' it read. He was still looking at it when he entered the house, and his worried inquisitive look caught Sera's attention.  

 

"What's that Peter?" Sera asked as she saw him aimlessly wandering in the front door. As if he was spellbound, gazing at the envelope in his hand as if frightened it was going to explode. As he looked up at her, he was slowly shaking his head.

 

"Don't know Sera, I'm afraid to find out," he said, turning the envelope over. Looking at the back of it, he studied the writing there. He then looked shocked at Sera when he had, and in a disbelieving voice and a look of bewilderment said.                                   

 

"It's from the Gray International Institute, on Adelaide Terrace in Perth. That’s where I dropped that application form off last Friday. It was for that job in that magazine," he slowly said staring at Sera. As what he was, saying slowly registered to Sera, her expression changed from curiosity to disbelief, and a little angrily razed her voice to ask.

 

"You applied for that job in that sex magazine, oh my god Peter you are an idiot. Oh my goodness, you're not going to open it are you?" She said as Peter toured off the end of the envelope, to pull the letter out, and open the sheet of paper, to read what it said.

 

"We have an appointment at eleven on Monday, for an interview lasting four hours. We will have a free lunch break of an hour, from one until two. Transport will be provided from your address at ten, returning you to your home if required by five. Remuneration for your time will be five Dollars per hour; there is no need to call this office if these arrangements are acceptable."

 

Peter read from the letter, and looked up at Sera who he could see was processing, the meaning of the words he had just spoken.

 

"What do you mean 'WE', give me that?" she said, snatching it from his grasp. Then she read it for herself, her eyes going wider as they travelled over the lines of typing. Until she finally came to a conclusion, she didn't like what she had just read.

 

"Why is my name on here, it says Mr Peter Martin, and Miss Sera Godard. Are corduroy invited to attend an informal meeting, at the above address on Monday the fourteenth of November 1963? To ascertain if they are suitable candidates to join other applicants, selected to be considered for the posts as advertised." Sera said, giving Peter dagger-like looks, as she read it again, aloud.

 

"You applied for me as well you sod, and what do they mean by suitable. What do you have to do, to make yourself 'suitable' may I ask? Well, I won't be there for them to find out, they're not getting a look at me, it's not as if they know what I look like is it." Sera's voice trailed off somewhat, as she saw Peter's face and the look of dread, now showing on it.

 

"What! Why are you looking like that for Peter, *** Peter why won't you answer me? ***Peter! tell me what's wrong, *** I'm getting angry Peter now tell me." Sera said now stamping her feet, as her temper rose. Peter now visibly cowering, slowly moved back towards the front door, where he hoped he could make his escape.

 

"They asked for a photo, I sent one of you when you were asleep. You didn't know I had it, so I didn't ask you. I didn't really think we'd hear back from the advert, that's why I never told you." Peter rambled on, still slowly backing up, he knew he'd have to run when she realised the truth.

 

"I was asleep when you took it, when and where did you take it then Peter?" Sera asked, taking a step towards him. Still not sure, she was guessing the real reason he hadn't told her he had it. The look on his face was leading her to only one concussion.

 

"When we were living in Mount Pleasant, I went fishing and came back early. I found you asleep on the floating chair; I had my Polaroid camera and took your photo." Peter said taking a bigger step back, as Sera's face took on the image of a banshee.

 

"I was naked Peter, is that what you're trying to say you took one of me naked, and you sent it to them." She hadn't raised her voice at all, but the tone made it sound more terrifying. The sight of her lips curling into a snail had him turning, and bolting for the door. With a growling Sera, in hot pursuit of a terrified Peter.

 

He emerged from the house looking over his shoulder, to leap from the veranda. Traversing the four wooden steps completely, to land on the path heavily. He staggered a few steps, before finally regaining his balance, as an angry Sera stamped her feet, on the veranda above him. Growling and tearing the invitation, to tiny shreds' as she yelled at him.

 

"You're dead Peter Martin, your dead. Dead do you hear me, I'm going to tear you to pieces when I get hold of you!" She roared at a frightened-looking Peter and was overheard by a couple sitting in a car. They had turned off the engine, that kept the air conditioning going. So the car would stay cool, as they watched the house.

 

Then they had to wind down the window, letting in the hot air so they could hear clearly. While Sera still ranted and raved at a terrified peter, who now stood out in the blazing sunshine. They smiled as they looked at each other, and the woman said.

 

"A domestic in progress wonder what that’s over, that's not just a lovers tiff Fredrick. That sounds like, she has found out something he hasn't told her. Now that invitation was to be sent out today, just check with dispatch to see if it has been?" She said smiling at her companion, who pulled the radio microphone from the dashboard. 

 

"Surveillance car six, to dispatch over." *** "Dispatch receiving, surveillance six over." *** "Surveillance car six Requesting information, regarding surveillance on railway parade Armadale subject. Please confirm the subject's invitation has been sent, as we have a developing situation here." The driver said into the microphone, as he watched Peter begging Sera to calm down. Then dance away as another flower pot, was thrown at him for his effort, and a few more nasty words were screamed in his direction.  

 

"Come in surveillance six over." *** "Six receiving over." The driver said trying not to laugh, as Peter danced away from another missile thrown in his direction. As