Coral Sea Affair

by Drew Lindsay

Ben kept close to the ocean floor, skirting around huge out crops of brilliantly coloured coral. Fish darted in and out of dark crevices, startled by the light. Sea urchins, normally tucked away safely in the reef during the day, browsed about on the sandy sea bed. Ben kept well clear of their long spines.

  The shark lost interest and disappeared. Ben would still have liked to know what lurked behind him in the inky blackness. He concentrated on moving ahead. The wall of coral closed up in front of him. Ben moved along it to the right. He found an opening and moved through. It led him to another wall of coral and a dead end. He backed out and moved further along the wall to the right. He could hear the dull roar of the crashing waves above. The second opening led him through a narrow passage in the coral. It wound in for several metres and turned abruptly left. Ben was hoping this wasn’t another dead end.

  It wasn’t. Minutes later he was on the sandy bottom of the lagoon and swimming towards the beach. The depth was now just less than 20 feet. Clusters of coral and bright green seaweed were scattered about. Shoals of tiny fish fled from the light. He switched the torch onto its lowest setting and swam on. At the 8 foot depth, Ben turned off the torch and moved carefully forward, touching the bottom as he went. The bottom suddenly rose steeply and within seconds his head breached the surface. Waves roared past him but they had little power. He pulled the torch and mask off and tucked them under his arm.

  His head only was above water. Hundreds of coconut trees lined the shore but their presence was more evident from the roaring of the wind in the fronds, than visually. The blackness of the night was all encompassing. Ben looked back in the direction of waves crashing on the outer reef. Sam and his boat were not visible in the darkness.

  He moved quickly up the beach and into the low jungle which grew right into the coconut groves. He flicked the torch to low light and placed it on the ground. Mask and flippers were pushed under a broad leafed bush, followed by the wet suit. He turned off the re-breather switches, closed the valves and laid it on top of the other diving gear.

  The long bladed knife had been beautifully sheathed in leather by Joy. Ben undid his belt and slid it through the sheath. The knife nestled comfortably at his side. The heavy Magnum felt comforting in his hand as he pulled it from its waterproof bag. He slipped it with the box of cartridges, into the leather bag. Dry socks and wet feet have never mixed. He struggled into the socks, laced up his joggers and hoisted the leather bag across his back, tightening the strap at his chest. The torch was turned off and clipped by its straps through his belt.

  The luminous hands of his watch read 20 minutes past midnight. He had 4 hours until a hint of dawn approached.

  The waterproof bag covered all the diving gear and the low bush branches hid everything from sight. Ben moved silently along the edge of the coconut grove to the left, eventually bringing him to the uppermost northern tip of the island. The trees and jungle were suddenly gone. The moon appeared for a brief moment and he could make out a wide open expanse stretching from the beach, inland. Then the moon was gone.

  It started as a few splats of water, and then increased to a deluge of rain within seconds. The wind changed directions frequently and lightning flashed over the sea to the west.

  ‘Great,’ muttered Ben as he moved back into the relative shelter of the jungle. He realised that the cleared land was the end of the light aircraft runway. He remained in the cover of the wet jungle and followed the runway back into the interior of the island. Rain was driven in frenzied sheets by the wind. It drummed against the large leafed plants. Ben moved slowly, stopping at frequent intervals to listen for sounds. The rain drowned out any hope of hearing soft sounds but also gave Ben the same advantage as he moved forward.

  He almost ran head first into the side of a huge metal wall. Ben slipped off the leather bag and laid it quietly on the ground. He followed the corrugated metal cladding back towards the open runway. Moving slowly and silently he inched along the front of the building, straining his eyes in the darkness. He used his fingers to aid his inspection of the building. His fingers touched the edge of a metal protrusion. He knelt down and felt a metal runner on a cement footing. He had reached sliding doors. He moved further along the high metal door, suddenly reaching an opening. The door was partly open on its tracks. He could smell a clove cigarette. Someone was inside and not too far away. Ben drew the large knife and stood with his back to the corrugated metal. He slowly sank to his knees and felt around on the ground until his fingers hit two small pebbles. Grasping them, he got to his feet and threw the stones up against the wall, high above his head. They made a soft clattering sound and fell back to the ground. Ben tensed his body. His eyes never left the deeper blackness of the open doorway for a second.

  The man inside made the mistake of leaving the cigarette between his lips. It gave Ben the perfect target he needed when the head protruded slightly from the doorway. He used the metal end of the knife’s handle to strike a sickening blow to the side of his target’s head. The man crumpled to the floor without a sound, his cigarette tumbling away in a shower of sparks.

  No other sounds came from within the building. The interior was in total darkness. Ben checked the downed man’s pulse. None. He moved inside and stood still. He waited at least two minutes and then clicked the torch strapped to his belt onto low. The darkness fled. He looked around for cameras. There were none visible. Two small planes were very visible. Both were Cessna’s. One, a 4 seat 175 and the other a 2 seat 152. Ben had flown a little when he was young and still held a completely worthless restricted pilots license. He hadn’t flown for almost 30 years. Didn’t want to and had forgotten how to.

  He dragged the dead Chinese man against a side wall of what was obviously a hangar for the planes. His pockets produced a small bunch of keys, a half empty packet of cigarettes, cigarette lighter, a folding stiletto knife and a set of Chinese exercise balls. Ben took the keys and left the other items beside the body.

  He moved outside, retrieved the leather bag, slipped the keys inside and swung it across his back. Once back in the jungle, he headed slowly south. The rain was easing. The lightning and thunder were moving away. The wind however, remained fierce at times. He spared a thought for Sam in the boat, and then pressed on through the darkness, occasionally stumbling into vines and bushes. The large house would not be far away. He moved more cautiously and veered towards the side of the island he had never seen, to his left. When he reached the coconut groves he knew the beach was close by. The jungle provided cover as he crept noiselessly, parallel to the shore. Then he saw lights. Two very soft lights. They glimmered through the thinning vegetation to his right. It had to be the large house. Now the fear was back, clutching at his chest like the cold fingers of a corpse. The unknown lay ahead. Where were the guards? How many? Where were the prisoners? Were they still alive? Someone had just been burnt at the stake on the beach. Was it Elizabeth? Could it have been Winston Mackay? Where should he start searching? Should he bring out the large revolver?

  Ben suddenly dropped to his knees. This was no way to proceed. He was allowing his mind to run away with distractions. Akira had taught him to relax before conflict. Ben had resisted going into the depths of Zen meditation but he accepted it was extremely important to Akira. The Master had attempted to drum into Ben’s head again and again that when one rid the mind of unnecessary thoughts and emotions, it gave freedom to strike quickly, true and hard, in a way far deadlier than one whose mind was cluttered with unnecessary thoughts, speculation and fear.

  He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes. He remained totally still for many minutes.

  The house was now clearly visible against the skyline. The storm had moved away and the moon, although not visible, was gently illuminating white puffy clouds. The wind remained strong and gusty. Once again, advantage and disadvantage. The house was two storied and the lights he h
ad seen were from windows on the top floor. It appeared that there were no guards patrolling the house. Ben initially felt this strange but then concluded that the remoteness of this island in a pitch black ocean, walled by coral reef, had probably given the inhabitants a sense of security. He would now take full advantage of that.

  A smaller building stood about 100 metres to the left of the main house. The smaller structure was in total darkness. Acting on impulse he made his way in that direction. It was single storied, of lime block construction with a flat metal roof. It was surrounded by coconut palms and papaya trees. As Ben drew closer he noted the absence of windows on the two sides he could see although ventilation openings were at intervals along the walls, immediately under the roof line. He also noticed close to the building and just to his right, three concrete boxes. They were about chest height and partly covered by low scrub. He used these as cover to get close to the flat roofed building. Each of the concrete boxes had a metal grille on two sides. A faint humming came from within and movement of air was evident. Ventilation shafts leading somewhere underground.

  He could now see a doorway into the building. A solid looking mass of steel blocked it. How could he get inside? Akira’s words came to mind. “Stealth, endurance, perseverance, patience. Powerful Ninjutsu weapons”

  “Well that’s not going to get me into that building” thought Ben. “But this might.”

  He walked straight up to the door and tapped softly against it with the blade of the knife. There was muffled movement inside and a male on the other side of the door said something in Chinese. Ben only knew a few words of Chinese and he had learned them while dating a Chinese university student in Sydney when he was 21. He raised the pitch of his voice but kept it soft. ‘Siang syr.’

  The Chinese male was quiet for a moment and Ben heard a metallic click near the lock. The man said something else in Chinese. Ben answered back, ‘Ching ren’

  Another metallic click and the door opened fractionally inward. Ben sprung against it with all the fury his 120 kilogram body could muster. The door caught the Chinese man in the face, hurling him back into a dimly lit foyer. Ben was on top of him in a flash and chopped hard into his throat with rock hard fingers. A gurgling cry rang out. Ben silenced him completely with a deep slash of the knife. Ben ran down a brick corridor and into a dimly lit room. There was an open door to the right and a metal door with steel bars in the top half to the left. As he reached the open door he ran face first into a young Chinese man. The startled look on the young man’s face reflected his unpreparedness. Ben moved with lightening speed to take advantage. He used the butt of the knife to strike the man’s forehead. He attempted to block but was a fraction too slow. The blow felled him quickly. Ben followed with a kick to the throat.

  A heavy blow caught Ben on the shoulder and spun him around but he managed to block another incoming punch and lashed out at the second attacker with his knife. The Chinese man blocked swiftly and solidly. The knife flew out of Ben’s hand and clattered to the cement floor. As he faced the new opponent he could hear footsteps approaching from behind. He made a knuckle fist with his right hand and quickly raised it high and to the right. It was a diversionary tactic trained many times over with Akira. The man glanced at the upraised fist for a fraction of a second and that is when Ben’s left fingers jabbed hard into his throat. The man went down. Another opponent launched at him. This man’s face had white sticking plaster over one eye and part of his mouth. Ben dropped to the floor and kicked up hard with his right foot. It caught the sticking plastered man in the crutch and spun him around. Ben sprang up, grabbed a fistful of shirt and hurled the man towards the opposite wall, slamming him against the metal door with the iron bars across the upper half.

  The man on the floor was up again and swinging a set of twin sticks. Nunchaku. Ben hated this deadly weapon, especially in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. The Chinese man moved in quickly and struck Ben on the left shoulder. Ben’s swift reactions partially deflected the blow but it was painful nevertheless. His right hand moved upward again in the diversionary tactic but the opponent was having none of it this time. He ignored the upraised fist and aimed a kick at Ben’s solar plexus. Ben blocked the kick with his left hand and drove the knuckles of his right hand into the man’s left temple. He went down again. Ben swung around to intercept the anticipated attack from the man he had hurled against the steel door. The man seemed stuck there. Not moving. His knees were bent slightly. He was hanging off the door.

  Ben stomped heavily on the throat of the man with the Nunchaku. It was probably a fatal blow but he was beyond caring at that point. He moved cautiously to the man hanging against the metal door. Then he saw an arm protruding from the darkness of the room behind the steel bars, crooked around the man’s neck, pulling back tightly. The Chinese man was dead; the life choked out of him.

  Ben turned on his torch and shone it past the dead man, through the steel bars. Elizabeth’s face beamed back at him, dirty and blood stained. Her black hair was dishevelled, bits torn out here and there, but it was Elizabeth and she was very much alive.

  ‘Took your damn time getting here,’ she said with a raspy voice.’

  ‘Ran into some bad weather,’ said Ben. ‘You can let him go now. He’s dead.’

  Elizabeth slowly removed her arm from around the man’s throat. He slid noiselessly to the floor. ‘He’s the one with the keys,’ she said. ‘He tried to rape me a while ago. Huge fight. I lost some hair and half my clothes but he copped a couple.’

  ‘Looks like he lost all round,’ said Ben, searching the dead man’s pockets. He found keys on a brass ring. The larger of the keys opened the cell door. She was in his arms in a flash and clung to him with a fierceness that took his breath away. ‘No-one other than you would have been crazy enough to attempt something like this and in a place like this. How did you get here?’

  ‘Long story. Now we just have to get out in one piece. You’ve got a bad cut on your head.’

  ‘Got whacked when they took me. It’s stopped bleeding now. What happened to Brenda?’

  ‘She took a nasty whack on the head too. A bit more serious than yours but she’s OK. She’s recovering at the Mossman hospital.’

  ‘Why did they take me?’

  ‘They saw you out at the dive site with me this morning. Thought you were the star is my guess.’

  Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. ‘I think there were just four of them in here,’ she said, attempting to cover her exposed breasts with her arms.’

  ‘Four down,’ said Ben. ‘They’re not going anywhere.’ He removed the leather bag and took off his T shirt. ‘I think you may need this more than me.’ He threw it at her.

  She smiled and pulled it over her head. ‘That jerk kind of messed up my party dress.’

  ‘We’ll get you another one when we’re out of here.’ He slipped the leather bag over his shoulder. ‘Any idea where the rest of the bad guys are?’

  ‘They seem to be over at the big house. I saw about a dozen when they were dragging me here.’

  ‘What’s in there,’ said Ben, pointing to the open passageway.

  ‘Don’t know, but there is someone down there. I heard soft singing a few hours ago.’

  Ben retrieved his knife and sheathed it. He led the way into the darkened passageway. Elizabeth followed, hand tucked into the back of his belt. Ben switched his torch to low. The stone passageway turned to the right and began to descend. They moved silently along the concrete floor. Elizabeth had no shoes. The passageway came out into a small, rectangular shaped room with concrete walls and floor. Ben concluded that they were well underground at this stage. Two metal doors were attached to the left wall. Each had a steel meshed opening in the top half. Ben shone his torch into the first. It was piled high with timber boxes and various bits of electronic equipment. When he reached the second, a white face a
nd silver beard appeared. The eyes glistened and blinked in the light.

  ‘What’s all the damn commotion about you yellow skinned monkeys,’ came a shrill voice.

  ‘Mr. Mackay I presume,’ said Ben.

  ‘What….’

  ‘Winston Mackay?’

  ‘No-one’s called me that for a long time. Who the hell are you?’

  ‘Friend of Joy’s. I’ve come to take you home Mr. Mackay.’

  Ben tried the keys in the lock. The third one opened it. Winston Mackay walked out into the dim light. ‘Joke, right?’

  ‘No joke,’ said Ben, holding out his hand.

  Winston Mackay looked at Elizabeth and back to Ben. Both towered over him. ‘Well you’re obviously not Chinese.’ He reached out skinny white hands and clasped the fingers of both around Ben’s large outstretched hand. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Ben Hood. This is Liz.’

  ‘I have no idea by what miracle you got here Mr. Hood but for God’s sake, get me out of this hell hole.’

  ‘Right away Mr. Mackay. Just got to unpack something first. I’m sick of all this hand to hand fighting.’ Ben pulled the leather bag from his shoulder and laid it on the floor.

  ‘That’s mine,’ said Winston.

  ‘That and everything in it,’ said Ben. He pulled out the Magnum and cartridges.

  ‘Good girl Joy,’ Winston said quietly. ‘Always using her head that woman. Who’s in charge now?’ he chuckled. ‘The only weapons they seem to have around here are those Chinese ninja knives and metal spikes and things.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ said Ben. He handed the cartridges to Winston. ‘Keep them safe and hand them out when I need them.’

  ‘I’ll guard them with my life.’

  ‘Where’s that tunnel lead to?’ asked Ben.

  ‘It’s basically a wire transfer interception area.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Too much to explain now. I’ll give you details later if we get off this island alive.’

  ‘There’s a boat at the northern end.’ Ben removed the bolt and wire cutters from the bag and left them on the floor. He hoisted the much lighter bag over his bare shoulders and cradled the large revolver in his right hand.

  ‘Time to go.’

  “****”

  Chapter Thirty Seven