Milkshake (9 page)

Identifying nurturing and encouraging investment by companies
and individuals expressing an interest in developing motion picture
opportunities in New Zealand.

Senator Weisner could not think of a single film or TV show he
had ever seen that originated from that small country. He was
expecting to be dealing with political, even military, influence.
How was encouraging Hollywood to make some kind of film in New
Zealand going to encourage people to want to go and live there?
Weisner sighed. This was going to be even harder than he expected.
The title of the following chapter, however, whetted his
politician’s appetite:

Maintaining the diplomatic and economic status quo whilst
ensuring there is no Free Trade Agreement between the US and NZ
until 2015 and beyond.

Now that was more his sphere of interest and
influence.

And so, in the late summer of 1997, the seeds were sown. All
the Administration had to do now was to wait patiently. No one
would even be able to detect the germination phase; that took place
out of sight; subtle, unnoticeable. Eventually a combination of
apparently unrelated factors would come together to create the
environment for the next phase of the program to take its course.
No-one was directly controlling what was happening since no one
person or group could be seen to be influencing the decisions that
were being made as a result of that initial secret meeting in July
1997.

For the experiment and the migration manipulation policy to
work, it had to be left to take its own course.

Chapter 6

David and Katherine Turner pulled away from the hotel and
headed down the street. After five minutes they realised they were
heading into the city, not away from it. “We need to be going
south. Are we going in the right direction, David? Pull over
there.” Katherine was pointing to a small car park. “Let’s get our
bearings and work out a proper route.”

David remembered being told about maps in the glove box. “Look
at this lot. This is a bit generous.” There was clearly more than
the usual basic tourist information. There were detailed maps of
both islands as well as a plain white envelope marked 'Private and
Confidential'.

Katherine handed it to him. “This must be your Mission
Impossible tape, Tom.”

David hesitated before taking it. “Do you think I should read
what’s in it?”

“I don’t see the harm in reading something, do you? Have a
look while I work out these mobile phones.”

David was hoping it contained some answers. He felt he had
earned the right to at least some of the detail, if that was what
the envelope contained. He read it to himself.

The world’s supply of oil is running out. Experts predict
that within one hundred years all projected reserves will have been
extracted. The industrialised world in which we now live will slip
back to the dark ages within ten years. It is anticipated that
before this happens the major economic powers will have already
taken steps to secure the remaining stocks of oil, and that this
scramble for the last reserves will result in catastrophic global
conflict This scenario has been recognised by the major economic
powers for some years and they have all been working towards a
solution. The United States favours pursuing alternative forms of
energy, coupled with a decentralisation of primary industries. This
policy is not favoured by America’s allies, since it could involve
the covert strategic integration of a number of territories into a
situation where they are under the direct governance of the United
States.

“What does it say?”

“I’m not sure yet, but it’s to do with oil. Let me
finish.”

For the past thirty years, successive American Governments
have pursued a policy designed to covertly destabilise a number of
ostensibly allied countries. The most successful example of this
was Ireland throughout the seventies and eighties where they
actively invested in the Republic whilst funding, through third
parties, a paramilitary civil war in the north. In that situation,
the economic investment was seen as positive for the region.
Consequently Ireland became the ‘green dragon’ economy of Europe.
In fact the Americans succeeded in reducing their own domestic
energy bill by a few billion dollars by successfully transferring
some manufacturing industries to another sovereign state. The
saving made has been used to fund the next stage of their
plan.

“Apparently the Americans invaded Ireland in the seventies
and no one noticed.”

America still needs to satisfy its huge thirst for oil and a
number of oil companies have developed successful alternative
energy sources based on ethanol. These discoveries are not secret
and there have long been rumours of inventors being paid off in
order to keep the price of crude oil high. But already ethanol is a
widely used additive in petrol and there are currently under
development a number of advance prototype cars, ships and planes
capable of running on these new fuels. But the stumbling block is
getting enough of the fuel. Unlike oil, ethanol cannot just be
extracted; it has to be man–made. There are two primary sources of
raw material, forestry - ethanol from wood pulp - and dairy,
ethanol as a by–product of whey.

“Hey, guess what? This is all about cows and
trees!”

These two primary sources are also the primary industries of
New Zealand, and this is no coincidence. There is growing evidence
to suggest that over the last few years, American business, with
the support of its own government, has been investing huge sums of
money into New Zealand, purchasing vast tracts of land, together
with the businesses which currently occupy it. During this time,
the US Government has deliberately cultivated and nurtured a cool
diplomatic relationship with New Zealand, aided, unwittingly, by
the New Zealand Government itself and its staunch anti–nuclear
policy. Ironically it is this very stance against one kind of fuel
which is allowing the United States to launch a stealth invasion to
cultivate its own source of fuel.

Katherine interrupted. “Have you finished that yet? Here, I’ve
set your mobile up for you. Just keep it plugged into the car to
charge the battery for a few hours.”

David glanced over what he had just read once more, noting the
frequency of the word 'government'. The paper was marked at the
bottom, 'Summary of report to be presented to Cabinet by Professor
Patrick O’Sullivan University of Otago. Page 1 of 15'.

There was nothing else in the envelope.

“Well?”

“Well, apparently the Americans have invaded New Zealand and
the majority of Kiwis don’t seem to even realise, according to
this. They’ve covered the country in trees and cows which can then
be made into fuel, which the Americans can use when all the oil
runs out in a few years.” Even in the street–lit gloom of the car
park, David could see his wife’s puzzled frown.

“Trees and cows?”

“It says here you can make fuel from mincing up trees, or
from cows, which seems a little strange as we haven’t seen much of
either yet.”

“Well, we are still in the centre of Auckland.”

“Which reminds me. How do we get out of the centre of
Auckland?”

They took it in turns to drive, two hours at a time, until six
the following morning when the first light of dawn began to glow
gently in the sky. Through the night they had headed south, driving
through countryside they could not see. There was little sign of
habitation. No towns, a few small villages, and once out of
Auckland they counted no more than a hundred cars in eleven
hours.

Katherine had tried tuning the radio, hoping loud music would
keep their senses alert. The
seek
button found four stations, two of them all–night
phone–in shows where the presenter seemed to be deliberately taking
an opposing view to elicit responses from the enraged, the
insomniacs or the plain mad. It kept them entertained and awake
through the small hours and endless driving.

They discussed the contents of the envelope that had been left
so conveniently in the car. It seemed to suggest an explanation for
the money smuggling operation but, as the night wore on, their
theories became more outlandish, until David raised the question of
how to milk a tree, at which point, at six-fifteen in the morning,
they decided they should stop driving and check into a motel and
get some proper sleep.

They drove slowly down the main street of a very small town,
deciding to stop at the first motel that looked comfortable but
cheap. They had driven through and out into the open countryside on
the other side of town before realising the limited choice and made
a U–turn on the deserted road before driving back and pulling into
the sparsely populated car park of the cheerily named Dresden
Motel.

They lied to the night porter about having arrived in Auckland
only a few hours earlier and having stepped straight off the plane
to attempt the long drive south to Wellington. Tiredness had
overcome them and they now needed a few hours sleep before
continuing their journey. “It’s $130 a night, er day, in advance.
I’ll need to swipe your credit card for security.”

They both knew why they exchanged a nervous glance but the
porter did not. Hesitation in presenting a credit card was an
excellent way of arousing the suspicion of an underpaid and
over–tired night watchman.

It occurred to David as he handed over the card, that the man
possibly did not really believe they were a happily married couple
and that, in checking into a motel room at seven in the morning,
their intention were far more sordid, hence the insistence on
pre-payment for the room. The porter swiped the card with an
inappropriately dramatic flourish before handing it back to David.
He reckoned they had about five hours head start on whoever had
just noted the card swipe.

Katherine unlocked the door of the room. On the outskirts of
Auckland, a blue Toyota was being driven away from outside a small
apartment block, heading south. They could count on four hours
fitful sleep at the most.

* * *

David’s head bounced suddenly on the warm bed and his whole
body tingled. It was dark and he could not breathe. He felt as if
he was having a heart attack. As he lifted his head, panicking, he
realised he had been lying with his face buried in the soft down of
the pillow, stifling his breath. The heart attack had subsided to a
painless tingling in his chest. The mobile phone, the real source
of the discomfort, was trapped in his shirt pocket, between his
body and the bed, and had begun to vibrate. He rolled over, his
face sweating and eyes instinctively narrowing, as the mid-morning
sun flooded the thinly-curtained room. Fumbling for the phone,
still humming gently, he sat up, squinting to read the small screen
as it reflected the bright daylight.

Theyre cuming U hve 15 mins.

The short message told him someone was following them and
someone else was apparently trying to warn them. David turned to
wake Katherine but she was already sitting up, reading the text
message over his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Leaving the motel car park, David turned
right, back into town.

“This is the wrong way. We’re going back in the direction we
came from.” She was right but he had an idea.

“
Whoever is following us thinks we’re
heading for the South Island. They most likely also know that the
container with all our stuff has just arrived in Nelson. So, at
some point, they either catch up to us, or get ahead of us and wait
until we catch up with them.”

“So .. ?”

“So, we head back, but not just north. We go somewhere we
won’t be found at least while we try to work out what to do next. I
can’t think straight knowing someone is right behind us all the
time.” There was a sign pointing left into a public car park. David
pulled in and stopped the engine. He turned to Katherine; “Get in
the driver’s seat and stay here. If anyone approaches the car,
start the engine, drive off, and then call me. I’ll be ten
minutes.”

“But according to the text, so will they.” She looked
worried.

“It’s alright. We’re parked off the main
highway. They’ll drive straight past, go to the motel and either
the receptionist will tell them she knows nothing, or the nosey
night porter will have told her about the dodgy pair in room 35 who
said they were heading to Wellington. Remember, ten minutes. If I’m
any longer, call to remind me, but I won’t pick up.”

David walked the short distance down the side road and back
onto the main street. He could still not get used to the fact that
it was July and cold. A week ago they had been saying emotional
goodbyes dressed in T shirts and shorts.

At any moment the car that was pursuing them would drive into
town. The location of the small shop he had spotted on their
earlier drive in, and where he was now heading, meant he was
walking with his back to the south facing traffic. He was unlikely
to be recognised if they happened to pass him in the next thirty
seconds.