Private Sydney (Private 12)

In times of struggle, always remember that when the pupil is ready, the teacher will appear. You will always have help should you need it.

Words can start wars, so be careful what you say and whom you say it to. Again, if you are afraid to own those words in a public forum, they are best never said.

Remember these things and you will have a safe, fulfilling and satisfying life.

Be true to yourself, my darling Eliza. Let each step bring you closer to your ultimate destination.

You are the greatest inspiration a man could have, and the dearest child. I love you forever, in this life and the next, from Questacon to Timbuktu and beyond.

This was a farewell note. Wherever he was, he was sure he would not be back.

Eliza slid off the bed and rested herself against the tallboy. She held a photo in a frame and handed it to me. In the faded image, a toddler grinned with pure joy at being held high in the air. The back of a man’s head was in the frame, as the child looked down adoringly.

‘I thought I could fly when I was in his arms.’ She wiped a tear from her cheek.

The letter referred to wars, crimes and self-destruction but I had to ask if Eliza had picked up anything else from his words. I re-read the final sentence.

‘Is there any significance to the phrase “from Questacon to Timbuktu and beyond”?’

‘Timbuktu was the silliest word I’d ever heard.’ She smiled. ‘It made me laugh every time Dad said it.’

‘Could he be letting you know he’s going to Africa?’

Eliza studied the photo again. ‘He’d ask me where it was, tickle me every time I got the answer wrong.’ She half-smiled. ‘I knew exactly where it was, so I mentioned every other city I knew, just to make the game last.’

Maybe the letter was a confession of sorts. Jack Morgan said CIA intelligence believed one of their operatives had turned. But who was he turning to?

There had to be something vital in the message. Questacon was a hands-on science centre in Canberra, the home of parliament.

As we headed back to Private so Darlene could examine the USB, I began to quiz Eliza, hoping to prompt a memory or association.

‘Did you ever visit Questacon with your dad?’

‘A few times. I loved that things were at wheelchair height and I could use almost every exhibit. But that was years ago.’

I thought about the buildings around that site on Lake Burley Griffin. The High Court, Old Parliament House, the National Gallery, government departments.

‘Did you visit any other places when you were there?’

‘We went to the zoo, the Australian Museum, the War Memorial. I always wanted to go in those paddling bikes, but Dad didn’t think it was safe for me.’

‘She who became a Paralympian swimmer.’

‘He was just protecting me.’ She looked out the window.

‘Did he ever go to meetings or stop for business when you were there?’

‘When we were together, he left work behind. It was just him and me. Unless there was a massive bushfire or floods or something he needed to be involved in, which was rare when we were on a road trip.’

‘Where did you stay?’

‘Close enough for us to get to Questacon without a car. He got a good deal, I think, at the Hyatt, the one on Commonwealth Avenue.’

I knew the hotel. It was a favourite for visiting politicians and dignitaries.

Eliza reflected, ‘I remember the first time he took me around the embassies. I loved the different types of architecture but one was my absolute favourite.’

Eliza’s eyes widened. She reached out and gripped my left arm tightly.