5.  Cool day - planned by Master

Exactly one month after I had my 27 minutes of public fame at the Kapunda Road Royal Commission, their final report was to be released to the media on July 15th, 05. Sorry, if I sound repetitive, but that day started by waking up at 5.07am. My diary comments – this seemed to set the tone for the day. The agenda for the day was mainly a day of writing. I just didn't think anything much would happen that day. Wrong!

During breakfast I normally watch a few minutes of television to catch up with news on Channel Seven or Nine. That morning, however, after turning on the power, the TV set spoke in German. The set was tuned to SBS. No doubt Jon, our 15 year-old, had watched the Tour de France the night before. I was tuned into a current affairs program by the Deutsche Welle Network.

For a few minutes I watched a report about schools in Southern Germany. One progressive thinking school teacher, a Mr. Droll, took some students on a school excursion with a difference, on a jet to New York. Suddenly, without thinking about anything, his name plus other material I saw seemed in my language - I don't mean simply German, I mean German Da Ninci - and it made sense.

Another school's name, Achern,  I translated into He c a n (Er means He - and I dropped the r). This plus the teacher's name, Droll, (DR & all, the small word with multiple interpretations), was not really weighty enough to assume it meant anything. 

(By the way, on the day of writing the space shuttle Challenger was returning from its mission in space (All in German). No dilemma in landing this time, apart from delays due to bad weather). 

It was a third, very distinct, characteristic of my Da Ninci code, which tipped the balance from doubt to dare. I dared to believe there was a possibility that my code had reached as far as Germany, after I made the following observation: A female teacher walk onto a blackboard and inserted the letter t into the word spiel, which was already written on the board. 

Spiel in English means play, a word featuring very prominently on my driving school's website splash page. (Spielt is simply the 3rd person singular of the infinitive spielen). Considering these three observations, how could I ignore them all and not dream that my code had indeed traversed the globe. It was not my code I was excited about, it was the life-changing message that went with it.

I sent a short email to the 'Deutsche Welle', saying how times had changed: "In my days we thought a bus trip to Munich or Strasburg was the adventure of the year. Now they travel in a jet to N.Y." The readers must have thought I was a grumpy old man. Did anybody know what my real intentions were?

Minutes later I listened to the local news on the radio. The word ‘Nelson’ drew my attention. A news item made mention of a public works project (details are irrelevant) in our state's South East at Nelson. I am sure this is what I heard. 

South Australians with a basic knowledge of their state will know that Nelson is across the border in the state of Victoria. I had travelled through the small hamlet, at the mouth of the Glenelg River, a number of times, even by bicycle. Later that afternoon I was led, I can’t describe it any other way, to Nelson Street; not the one at the end of our street, but in the City of Adelaide. Read on.

 

Flashback to 1995 (approx): The commercial centre of downtown Nelson, Victoria. In the background a boat on the Glenelg River. 

    When I found this snapshot among our many holiday photos I didn't realize how I was drawing attention to the two letters ac. Can you see where? (Use your head or mine). Clue: It's right beside EL Gas. Oh! Sag is German for tell. 

 

 

It was not yet 8am on July 15th and I had a distinct feeling I was being teased or tested or both. As I typed an email I overheard on the news the Australian Dollar stood at 75.1 cents against the US Dollar. This was doubly funny. Not only the date 15/7 matched the AUS Dollar, but also the clock on my P/C - it showed exactly 7.51am. I couldn’t help smiling to myself and including it in whatever email I had been writing at the time.

The main news that day was very much the Kapunda Road Royal Commission.  Commissioner James was due to hand over his findings first to the Governor and later to the media. I struggled all morning, if I ought to go into the city to watch the Press Conference. After lunch I phoned the Commission's office in 26 Flinders Street and asked, when and where the report was being released, and if the public was allowed to attend. I was told that the event was by invitation only.

This information alone would have made a perfect excuse to stay home that day. But I already had an excuse. A trip to town would possibly delay the completion of my third book, my 177th chapter. I was hoping to finish the task two days later on 17/7. 

But the urge to go into town didn’t subside. It was already well after 2pm, when I finally made a deal: Lord, if you want me to go into the city show me by a sign. A moment later, as I looked at the clock on my P/C, it showed 2.13pm. HE knew my Da Ninci code well, I knew I was meant to go into the city.

There was a vacant parking space right outside the Kapunda Road Royal Commission offices. I took the lift to the first floor, expecting a crowd of young, pretty, female journalists and well-groomed men in dark, pin-stripe suits, crowding the Commissioner or the Attorney-General for comments

There were a few familiar faces, but no press conference was taking place. It was held elsewhere, but nobody told me where. I considered purchasing a copy of the 200 page report for $ 27.50, but decided against it.

(If they had copies of the secret, 14-page supplementary report for sale to the public, I would have bought one. It contains dynamite, according to one politician, who had read it and made a comment to the press. To date (10/8/05) only a privileged few know its contents. What a formula to make gossip flourish!)

On leaving the building I was wondering, why I was meant to come into the city that afternoon? The policeman, who had been in attendance since the first day, had told me, he thought the press conference was being held at the State Administration Office around the corner. I had to move my vehicle from the ˝ hour parking zone. (Actually it was mother-in-law's green Datsun 120Y, ..NT 963, which I had taken to town). I drove around the block, looking for another carpark.

 

July 15th, 05 - 3.15 pm approx. I had parked Grandma's green Datsun (bottom right) outside 26 Flinders Street, Adelaide, the place where the Kapunda Royal Commission was held in May/June 05.

 The family didn't understand why I was more emotional about selling the 1978 Datsun, than grandma was. She had owned it for 24 years. But I had seen its magic.

 

As I crossed Victoria Square I saw two or three red TV News 4 wheel-drive vehicles parked on the grass outside the State Administration Centre. Continuing South I couldn’t find a park on King William Street. I tried near the Coroner’s Court, then turned left into Carrington Street. As I was looking for a space to park, a street name leapt into my face - Nelson St. I remembered that morning’s strange news item about Nelson in Victoria.

I was slightly baffled and turned into Nelson Street. It was a narrow, short dead end street, leading to the car park of the Police Headquarters. I noticed a number of police vehicles in the vicinity. I turned the car around and all of a sudden saw a car registration plate, which baffled me more than Nelson Street had. It was a rather complex connection, unreal, yet very real.

Going back three months, during my visit to Tustin, California, I had picked up an O-Ring under interstate 95, near the Key Inn. It was about the size of a small apple and made of hard rubber. The number-letter combination was IBC 300, that's why I had kept it as a souvenir. 

It was only 2 hours before my trip to the city on 15/7 that I scanned this item for possible inclusion in my story, but decided against it. The baffling part was the rego number of the car I spotted in Nelson Street two hours later - it was almost identical, containing the same combination letters C and B and the numbers 1 and 3 (see photo).

Found in Tustin, Ca. USA, 10/4/05. Scanned in Adelaide 15/7/05 - 1.13 pm. Two hours later I happened to see the vehicle below. The timing of it all surprised me as much as the B,C,O,1 and 3. 

The connection may be nothing at all. If so, it was a remarkable episode of nothing at all.

Something else, I see it just now, makes sense – the brand of car – a (Nissan) Pathfinder.

 

I snapped a photo of the 4-WD drive vehicle, a Nissan Pathfinder I found out as I was preparing this chapter. There was a vacant parking space across the road, just east of the Irish Club.  As I reversed into the space I noticed a very tall man walk across the road and disappear into a building. I had seen him moments earlier walk across Victoria Square. He had come from 26 Flinders Street, where I had seen him many times attending in the Kapunda Road Royal Commission.  

Here was my chance to talk to a policeman about the Commission. I walked into the building the tall man had entered. It was the Police Association's head office. I looked around the restaurant/bar area, but my man had disappeared. Almost as if she knew what I wanted, a lady at a table on the far wall answered my query about a tall man. I would find him upstairs, on the second floor.

We only talked briefly. I think he had seen me also and knew who I was. I asked him a specific question, concerning the role of police in the McGee case. (Details later). I ended our 3-minute encounter with the question: “Is there corruption in the South Australian Police force?” He said, no. But then, I could hardly expect a yes-answer to this question from a representative of the Police Association.

I hurried the short distance to Victoria Square. The Press Conference had already finished. Had I wasted my time rushing into town? As I toddled back to my car the real fun started. I discovered right across from the Police Association building another one of those signs, which wasted a precious c in the word vechicles. Parked right behind it a Toyota displayed rego number ...288. I didn't care that a policeman, standing nearby, was watching. I took a photo: 

 

In chapter 28 in Part 1 (More in number) you will find a photo of an identical misspelled sign. When I saw the car registration plate of the car shown ...288 I wondered if the two go together?

 

There were a number of vehicles parked in the vicinity. A station wagon, belonging to the State-Emergency Services carried rego... 501, plus others. I had the distinct impression that I was meant to be in town, right at this very location in Carrington Street, near the corner to Nelson Street. As if to confirm what I was suspecting, I spotted a sign of a business next door to the Police Club. The name says it all, what I think was happening right there on July 15/05 - MasterPlan. 

Many will think, and I have to agree with them, this is all a bit far fetched. They find it hard to follow, let alone understand. In all honesty, I too find it hard to make sense with. All I can suspect is that I was guided, once again, to come to the right place. 

One thing I do know - I had done what I felt was the right thing to do - go to town that afternoon, open my eyes and observe and let you, the reader, join my walk. The rest I left up to God. 

On the left through the glass door I saw the young lady trying to hide behind a computer screen as I took the photo. I bet there were not many passers-by who stopped and snapped a photo of their business name.

 Interesting logo: a C, outside the squares, between two squares. 

 

The day ended just as it had started, with numbers 15 and 7 screaming for attention. I was curious and especially listened for the exchange rate of the Australian/US Dollar  during the business News that evening. It was omitted, unless I missed it. Instead, I heard the news that the head of a large bank was retiring. His total payout figure amounted to a cool 17.5 million Dollars.

The temperature in Adelaide that day may well have been 15.7 C. How cool would that have been?

 

Chapter 6

Index