Percy put on a white suit, complete with yellow shirt and red tie. He dealt with his breakfast, and then walked to the end of his long driveway, until he came to the street. A brief walk concluded at Wahroonga Station, where he purchased a return train ticket to St Leonards. Percy Dale had every intention of enjoying himself that day, even if he had to create the fun himself. Such a responsibility was never a problem for Percy, a man who had never enjoyed any developments for which he had not been at least partly responsible. Percy was like that.
He sat in the train, staring at people; schoolchildren in standard uniforms, housewives no doubt on their way into the city to embark on a shopping spree, business people on their way into their offices, and there were others. Percy wondered what sort of an impression he conveyed to them all. He sat in the train, completely content with himself, wearing a suit unlike those worn by the business people, and a look of innocence that said "Yes, it's just another day at work for me too."
Which it wasn't. The train pulled into St Leonards, and Percy stepped out, and walked up the ramp, presenting his ticket for collection, and along the Pacific Highway to the bus stop, where he waited for and caught the bus to the Spit.
It was shortly after ten, when Percy stepped out of the bus to stare at the Spit. The first thing to catch his eye was the Seafood-77 Restaurant.
"I shall undoubtedly dine there for lunch," thought Percy.
He walked over to the waterside. The sunlight was magnificent. It shone brightly on the water, sparkling like freshly poured lemonade; and yet the temperature was perfectly comfortable. He took advantage of a nearby bathroom for a drink of water from the tap, and then walked across the Spit Bridge. Percy could walk faster than the average pedestrian with his own build, and yet he could do it in such a manner as to appear - and of course be - completely relaxed and natural. The shadow of a Sneaky Spy then proceeded to pass over a portion of Manly Road, until it followed some of the backstreets to Clontarf Park, which is located next to Clontarf Beach. He was able to walk his way through the bushlands, and remain only a metre away from the water of Middle Harbour as he did so. At this stage in the story, it was still merely an enjoyable exercise in the consumption of time. Time was there to be consumed. However, it was there to be consumed in such a way as to derive for oneself - and to provide for others - the maximum amount of possible pleasure.
He tried to imagine Donna Scarlot chasing him through these lovely bushes, but each time he only saw Ingrid. He hadn’t seen her for years, yet her relatively gigantic face, and particularly her eager gobbling mouth, remained a clear and unforgettable image in his mind. He could only recall the advice of someone who had once said: “Love the one you’re with.” In time he would come to realise that it wasn’t always the best advice, if even possible.
Ingrid had gobbled him alive, and that, combined with her unique size and beauty just magnified his infatuation with the memory of her as time went on.
Percy passed by Castle Rock, and then walked to the end of Grotto Point Reserve. The logical thing to do next was to walk back the way he had come, and sample some sustenance at the Seafood-77 Restaurant. As he made his way back to the Spit Bridge, he stared out across the water, and decided that anybody in a hurry would benefit from using some means of aquatic transportation (across the Harbour), rather than walking, or navigating the streets in a car.
The italicised orange letters of the Seafood-77 Restaurant were visible, even to the man with the least interest in restaurants, but he did feel like a large helping of prawns and some potato chips to accompany them.
As he entered the restaurant, his eye caught sight of a man in a grey tweed suit, seated at an otherwise empty table, playing a game of patience with his cards, while waiting for his meal to be served.
"The sort of man who has the unmitigated gall to sit in a restaurant playing cards," thought Percy, "is the sort of man I would most likely benefit from making acquaintance with."
Percy ordered prawns, chips and a bottle of lemonade. Then he wandered over and sat himself down opposite the solitary card player.
"Do you fancy a game of five hundred?"
"Certainly. Will you join me for lunch, Mister-?"
"Percy Dale, and you're from England."
"London, to be exact. Canton Algor's the name. Shall I keep everything above the black fours in the pack, and we'll play the double-sized version?"
"Good idea, Canton. Have you been waiting long for your order?"
"I can afford to wait a while. I've got today off. We're all rostered for a monthly day off at work. I live over in Ida Avenue. So I thought I would come down here. Normally I would prefer to go out on my day off, but I am rather curious to investigate something. You look like the sort of fellow who would be interested."
"How do you know that?"
"Well you are the first Australian I have met, since I moved here from London three years ago, who has enough friendliness and courage to offer his company to a complete stranger at a restaurant table."
Percy laughed softly.
"With all four beautiful queens turned up when I came in, I could hardly resist the temptation to try out the possibilities."
"You look like an Englishman yourself."
Percy had always hoped to meet a man who might mistake him for an Englishman.
"And when I take off this suit, I shall look like Tarzan, for the brief period that is taken up by my evening shower. Then I shall look like an Australian in a pair of pyjamas."
It was Canton Algor's turn to laugh. Percy chose the next moment as being the one to inquire about the something that Canton had chosen to investigate.
"So what is it then, that has captured your interest at the Spit?"
"Well it happened like this," began Canton, "I was cruising around Middle Harbour in my yacht, on Sunday afternoon, and I saw two men in a power boat, heading towards Clive Park. They were obviously in a hurry and hadn't planned on stopping. They passed my boat with great haste, and got a few yards in front, and then suddenly stopped. I caught them up again and noticed a large sack in their boat, and then they noticed me and took off again. It looked as though they stopped out in the middle of the water, and began to have a minor disagreement, during the course of which an object - probably the large sack - fell into the water.
"They waited there for a few seconds, and then disappeared into Clive Park, after mooring their boat just on the edge. It cannot have been a very valuable sackload of whatever it was, if they abandoned it after their brief tussle in the boat."
"Or alternatively, it could have been extremely valuable," said Percy, "Hence the tussle in the first place."
"But it's Thursday now, and I have asked a friend to watch the boat in Clive Park, and he hasn't seen anything remotely akin to movement from the boat all week."
"Is your friend hard at watch during the night as well?"
"No, but I don't think anyone would try to find something at the bottom of Middle Harbour at night. The sharks are rife, and there aren't any power boats to scare them away. Not only that, but they would be far better off to try looking for whatever they lost in the daytime."
"Can you remember where it was that the sack went down?"
"Near enough. Here's our lunch now."
Their meal was served, and then they continued to talk.
"Why don't we take your boat out this afternoon? I'll take a dive with a knife, and we needn't worry about the sharks. If you're sure of the location, and if there's anything down there, it won't escape the notice of my beady brights, even underwater."
A short time afterwards Percy and Canton were cruising around in the Algorithm.
"I like your choice of names for this craft. Remind me to tell you the one about the three rats in a tub sometime."
"You'd better go below and put the wetsuit on."
"Ah yes, the wetsuit. Canton my friend, I shall tell you why your two characters began to misbehave in their boat on Sunday. They may well have been involved in certain aquatic misdemeanours, and they passed by your boat in a hurry. They thought that they had distanced themselves from you, and then the Algorithm sped up and followed them. So they headed for Clive Park's tall timber. They might well have assumed - or at least considered - that you might have been a private investigator, or simply a threatening adventurer looking for his share in the takings of whatever wicked activity in which they may have been involved. Now why create any more attention for ourselves?"
"What do you mean?"
"A wetsuit is worn for a planned dive. It would look a bit obvious, to anybody who has chosen to enjoy the tranquillity of the Spit today. I will slip into a pair of shorts and a short sleeved shirt. I assume you have some down below. Then some sort of heavy metallic object shall accidentally fall over the side, like a metal boom, for instance. Naturally, I shall have to take my shirt off and go in after it. I can still strap the knife to my leg and go down prepared."