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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Consulate Boy - 2. Consulate Chapter 2

“Do you have any other interesting experiences that you could tell us about, in both languages please?” the teacher asked me, and nodding my head, I began to explain some of the amazing things I have had the chance to see and do, including experiencing a tour of a wildlife reserve, to see African animals in their natural environment.

After that class, I suddenly had a lot of people wanting to know a lot more about my life overseas, and I was not particularly keen to talk about it in detail, so I kept my responses basic and brief. Eventually, I found two classmates who were more interested in protecting me, from the constant hounding by students and staff at the school, and not wanting to bug me about details of my times overseas.

Martyn and Jonah Artise are first cousins, and I quickly learnt from them, that they were born in Geneva, Switzerland, and that their two families moved to Australia when they were just ten years old, and they understood every single word that I said in French. “I know you don’t like talking about your times spent overseas, but we were just wondering, if you know any other languages fluently apart from French,” Jonah asked me as we sat down under a shady tree for lunch.

“Yes, I do. I am fluent in Nepalese and Ndebele, from when our family was in Nepal and Zimbabwe,” I responded to them. “So as well as English, you know four languages?” Martyn asked, “Yes, and I know just a few words of Maori, as that is where I was born and spent my first two years. My older sister is fluent in Maori as well as the other four languages, and my younger brother, only knows Nepalese, Ndebele and English,” I answered.

“How long will you be in Australia? Is your family getting posted somewhere else after some time here?” Jonah asked me, and I sighed. “Unfortunately yes, we will be transferred to a new posting after just twelve months here, and I have been informed that it will be somewhere in Europe, as we tend to do two locations in each region, before moving to a new region.

“When I was a baby, it was the Pacific region, followed by Africa, and Southern Asia, before moving here, so it will definitely be Europe, and if it is like last time, we will be spending three years in one country then two years in another, before changing regions again,” I replied.

“Wow, that is so very interesting travelling you get to do, but I guess it has its downsides too, like leaving new friends behind every few years,” Martyn said to me, “Exactly right, that is the one thing that I hate about my parent’s been diplomats,” I responded. “So that means your family has Diplomatic Immunity as they say on those TV shows?” Jonah asked me, and I chuckled.

“I am not sure about that. I now have my very own passport, and it is not a Diplomatic one, and before I turned twelve, I was on my mother’s passport, as was my younger brother, I think we have diplomatic protection while our parents are working, but if we go off somewhere for a holiday, I believe we only get basic security protection,” I answered.

“We are sorry that we didn’t speak up when you were telling the teacher that she spoke horribly in French. We agree that she is not a good language teacher, but we just didn’t want to get into trouble, as our fathers are business partners and we don’t want anything to harm their business,” Martyn said to me. “I understand, and I think you both did the right thing by staying out of it,” I responded. “That is good, as we didn’t want to ruin our new friendship with you either,” Jonah added.

From that moment on, we became best of friends, and while at school we were inseparable since we had all the same classes together. During the short morning and the long lunch breaks each day, I began to teach Jonah and Maryn some of the Nepalese language so that warn each other in case of a situation with bullies, which unfortunately is always an issue, no matter what type of school that you attend.

“Hey, did I hear you talking to your friends in Nepalese today?” my brother Kerwin asked me, as we headed to our pick-up point at the end of the school day, where either Dad or a DFAT vehicle would collect us and take us home, but today was different, as he reached our usual spot, just inside the school boundary, we heard a clear shout, for a voice that I recognized.

“Danger, get inside,” but it wasn’t in English, it was in Nepalese, and both Kerwin and I reacted right away, turning and sprinting back towards the administration building, we heard footsteps behind us but we didn’t stop or look back to see who it was.

Once inside, we jumped over the counter, past a stunned receptionist, as we heard the sound of the front door being slammed closed and locked, then several bangs on the door, as we headed down the administration hallway, and into the conference room, where we closed and locked the door. A few moments later we heard a light knock on the door, “Boys this is Mr Kingston, open up please,” we heard the Deputy Headmaster say on the other side of the door. “We will sir, as soon as you give us the safety password,” I responded.

“What password? I don’t know of one, now open up and let’s discuss this,” Mr Kingston said. “Hello, Dad. Admin Conference Room,” I heard my brother say into his phone, “Joachim,” I called out, “Edith” Kerwin added, giving our assigned emergency passwords when we were in danger. “Ok, got it, Dad. We will wait right here,” Kerwin said before ending the call. “Phone on silent now,” I whispered to Kerwin, who did as I asked and I did the same with my phone.

“Come on boys, this is getting serious, let me into the conference room this minute,” we heard Mr Kingston say on the other side of the door. “I am sorry sir, but we will not be opening the door until the AFP arrives, and they are on their way,” I responded. “What the hell is the AFP and what is the damn password to get them to open up?” we heard a stranger’s voice say before hearing some noises, a scream and the sound of a gun firing, and soon the evacuation alarm began to sound.

Both Kerwin and I backed well away from the door, and thankfully the conference room was an internal room, with no windows facing outside. Kerwin gave me a light nudge with his elbow and indicated upwards, where I saw an air-conditioning duct in the ceiling. I nodded my head and Kerwin climbed up onto the conference table before I handed him a chair to stand on.

“Do it quietly ok?” I whispered to my brother who nodded his head in understanding, and I smiled as my eight-year-old Brother quickly climbed up, where he soon had the cover removed and he lifted himself and looked inside, before climbing into the ceiling space. I took the chair off the table and went over to a high window and used the chair to open it up, leaving the chair there.

I climbed up onto the conference table and making a jump I grabbed the sides of the vent, hoping that it would not give in to my weight, which it didn’t, and I was soon in the ceiling space. All though it was fairly dark inside, there was enough light to see that my brother had crawled to the back end of the building and was indicating for me to follow, which I did.

I felt my phone vibrate with a message, and I opened the message from Martyn. “Where are you? Are you guys ok? Jonus is in admin with three armed men, and one staff member has been shot, but don’t know how bad. MA,” the message read. I typed a quick reply. “We are ok, and in the conference room, we have notified our Dad, and AFP is on their way. Stay clear, we will be fine. Mateo.”

After sending the message, I quickly and quietly put the vent back into place, and headed towards my brother, as quietly as possible, and when I reached him he had the vent open above another part of the admin building and was whispering to someone, before lowering himself down into what is a men’s bathroom. Once down on the ground again, Mr Lang put the vent back into place above the sink area of the bathroom.

“What is all of this about boys?” the School Accountant asked us, “Sir, we are sons of Australian diplomats, and so this may be related to something to do with my parents and DFAT, which is the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade. Only the Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster know about this,” I answered.

“I see, well as it happens, I am an Army Reservist, Captain Anthony Lang, DIO - Australian Army Intelligence Corp,” Mr Langs announced to us, just as my mobile vibrated with a call. “Hello, Dad. Kerwin and I are safe at the moment, we are hiding in the staff bathroom at the back of the building, after climbing through the roof space,” I said in a loud whisper.

“Good to hear. I am on my way there now, and the Australian Federal Police should be arriving at any moment. Now do you know Mr Lang in the Admin department?” Dad replied, and this made us all smile on hearing this. “We do. He is here and just introduced himself to us as Captain Anthony Lang of the Australian Army Intelligence Corp,” I replied.

“Excellent, stay with him until you get the all-clear that it is safe,” Dad said to us. “Got that Mr Edwards, I am at your service sir,” Mr Lang responded, “Good, thank you for looking after my boys. Noho haumaru. See you soon, bye,” Dad said before ending the call.

Copyright April 2023... All Rights are Reserved, Preston Wigglesworth
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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