South Pacific Affair

by Drew Lindsay

  Crampton stared ahead without speaking.

  ‘This has never been done before,’ said Fietz.

  Crampton remained silent.

  ‘The residents boast that they don’t lock their windows and doors. They have one policeman for the entire island, and he does bugger all.’

  Crampton squinted through the bright sunlight at the towering mountains on Lord Howe Island. ‘Did you ever watch the old film South Pacific?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘This place looks like that film location; beautiful, peaceful and the people are totally unaware that anyone would try and hurt them.’

  ‘Do we have to hurt anyone?’ asked Fietz.

  ‘Only if they try and stop us. They have two banks with no protection whatsoever. I’ve just heard there is a film crew on the island with money to spend and US dollars to exchange. There will be money flying everywhere. It will be like stealing candy from a baby.’

  ‘Then “Razor” changes her name, drops parts of her present shape and away we go,’ said Fietz.

  ‘It worked last time and it will work again,’ said Crampton, adjusting his wire rimmed glasses.

  In a white weatherboard house in the suburb of Castle Hill just out of Sydney, two men sat in a sunroom facing each other and sipping coffee. Rodney Reid was the owner of the house which also was the hub of his very lucrative business involving the protection of VIP’s and of more recent times, special investigation into crimes which police had been forced for various reasons to allocate into the too hard basket. His main operative was ex police detective Ben Hood. Ben was 6 feet 2 inches tall, and a fit muscular man notwithstanding his tender age of 52. Ben had left the police force by mutual agreement following criticism that he had shot dead a couple of violent offenders. Ben had a very strong view concerning violent criminals and the way they should be dealt with if they attempted to resist capture or injure even more people in their efforts to avoid arrest. Ben was an experienced martial arts expert and his mentor and trainer, Korean born Akira Misaki, had skilled him for many years in the style of Ninjutsu tactic fighting. Ben had never practiced martial arts as a sport. He learned the ways of the Ninjutsu in order to survive in the violent world which surrounded him. This became extremely vital to him once he left the police force as he no longer had access to a gun.

  Rodney Reid was around Ben’s age. He was 6 feet tall, not particularly fit and had also lost his right leg at the ankle in a motor vehicle accident about 10 years before. He sometimes wore an artificial foot for formal occasions but at home left it off and used a crutch. He was married to the surgeon who had amputated his foot and Rose Reid was the light of his life, even if he occasionally resented her tendency to dominate him. Sometimes he would call her a bully. She would sometimes call him a wimp but they shared a deep love. Ben had divorced some years ago and since joining up with Rodney had acquired an unexpected and often unwarranted notoriety for becoming involved with women, often quite a deal younger than him. His rugged good looks, strength of character and no nonsense personality may have contributed to his propensity to attract those of the opposite sex.

  Rodney took a sip of coffee and put down the cup on a table in front of him. He leaned forward on the brightly coloured frangipani print lounge and studied Ben for a moment. ‘She arrived in Sydney exactly when?’

  ‘About a week ago,’ said Ben.

  ‘She phoned you and wanted to see you.’

  ‘I was busy,’ said Ben.

  ‘This is one of our most important clients,’ said Rodney, sitting back. Brenda Grant owes you her life you moron!’

  ‘She didn’t want to hire me to protect her this time,’ said Ben. ‘Elizabeth was with her. She’s more than capable in the bodyguard department.’

  ‘Of course she didn’t want to hire you!’ said Rodney, raising his hands in the air. ‘She wanted to sleep with you and on this particular occasion you would have had my blessing. It may have led to a job on Lord Howe Island.’

  ‘I’ve never slept with Brenda,’ said Ben. ‘She’s a kid.’

  ‘She’s almost 30 and built like a damn titan. She had a boob job did you know?’

  ‘No I didn’t know that,’ said Ben. ‘She hardly needed one in my opinion.’

  ‘This is the sort of client that you cannot cut off,’ said Rodney. ‘I stay in business because of these VIP’s. We don’t make the big bucks with you running off risking your life rescuing kidnapped children.’ Rodney immediately wished he could take back what had just come out of his mouth. Too late though. Once words are out, they’re out.

  ‘You horrid little man!’ said Rose, striding into the room. She held a plate of sliced cake. ‘I heard that remark.’

  ‘I’m sorry I said it,’ said Rodney. ‘I didn’t really mean it.’

  ‘Well then you’re not getting any cake or anything else for a while either.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Rose sat beside Ben on the other lounge and offered him some cake. Ben declined with a slight wave of his hand. She looked back at Rodney. ‘You’ve made millions out of Ben. He did a lot of good with those missing children cases so you leave him damn well alone.’

  ‘I said I was sorry,’ said Rodney, ‘and I’m not a little man.’

  ‘If he didn’t want to meet up with one of the most gorgeous movie stars in the world, that’s his business,’ said Rose as she put the plate of sliced cake on a coffee table. Rodney leaned forward with lightning speed and snatched a slice.

  ‘She wasn’t in Sydney for long enough,’ said Ben. ‘She was awaiting a connecting flight to Lord Howe Island.’

  ‘She was here long enough for you to sleep…’ Rodney closed his mouth.

  ‘I had one of those middle aged crushes on a young movie star I knew I could never meet in a million years,’ said Ben. ‘What happened in Far North Queensland and actually meeting her was just one of those things but it was a job and now it’s over.’

  ‘You still hold a flame for her,’ said Rose. ‘We all know that.’

  ‘Middle age crush,’ said Ben slowly, hoping the words would take effect.

  ‘She turns 30 at the end of the year,’ said Rodney. ‘Best damn 30 year old woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and her knockers are to die for.’

  ‘Rodney Reid!’ said Rose. ‘Show some respect for the girl and women generally.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ben, sipping his coffee. ‘Show some respect.’

  ‘You should talk,’ said Rodney. ‘You’ve slept with more of my clients than I’ve had hot breakfasts.’

  ‘Alright, shut up Rodney,’ said Rose. ‘He has high testosterone levels.’

  ‘I do not,’ said Ben, turning to face her.

  ‘I’m a doctor my dear. I’ve watched you with loving care for a long time. It’s a logical conclusion and I don’t need a blood test from you. Besides, you are tall, handsome and charming, unlike some others I have met from time to time.’

  ‘I’m tall and handsome,’ said Rodney.

  ‘I guess we’ll just have to work on the charming part a big longer eh?’ said Rose.

  ‘You married me.’

  ‘So I did. Be grateful.’

  Ben’s mobile phone rang. It was an unidentified number. He accepted the call. ‘Someone has threatened to kill me Ben.’

  ‘Brenda?’

  ‘This madman came into my tent a few hours ago and told me that his mother was going to make sure I would be dead.’

  ‘Have you reported this to the police?’

  ‘There is only one policeman on the island. He’s looking into it now.’

  ‘Where is Elizabeth?’

  ‘She became quite ill on her second day here and we sent her to Brisbane. She saw a doctor and then flew back to the States. I need you Ben.’

  ‘Keep someone near you at all times and do not go wandering around tonight. I’ll be there in the morning.’

  ‘I’m staying on the yacht. Randolph thinks I’m crazy.’

  ‘Who’s Randolph?’
asked Ben.

  ‘The director.’

  ‘Are the media onto this?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Could Randolph be trying to pull a press stunt?’ asked Ben.

  ‘If he is, I’ll cut his bloody balls off!’

  ‘Don’t cut anything off,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll be there in the morning.’

  The call was terminated. Ben looked at Rose and then Rodney. ‘Someone has threatened to kill her.’

  ‘Are we hired?’ asked Rodney.

  ‘Anyone who tries to hurt that lady will have to crawl over me first,’ said Ben.

  ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ said Rodney. ‘Check the domestic flights.’

  ‘I’m chartering a plane to leave at first light.’

  ‘That’s going to be expensive,’ said Rodney.

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Ben. ‘Then again, she is a valued client as you said.’

  Rose smiled at Rodney and took a piece of cake from the plate.

  “****”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘What have you done?’ asked Doris. She kept her eyes riveted to her son’s face.

  ‘I’ve done nothing.’

  ‘I always know when you’ve done something bad so you had better tell me.’

  ‘I gave the movie star a warning. She drinks and she takes off her clothes.’

  ‘She’s a movie actress,’ said Doris. ‘They all do that.’

  ‘She does strange things with men.’

  Doris poured herself another glass of white wine. ‘So what?’

  ‘You hate women who do that.’

  ‘No I don’t. What’s gotten into you?’

  ‘Nothing has gotten into me.’

  ‘Go and have a shower Peter. You stink.’

  ‘I could have gone swimming in the lagoon today if all those movie people hadn’t been allowed to take it away from us.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Doris. ‘That is a matter which I will raise with the Island Board in due course.’

  ‘They don’t care. The movie people have lots of money,’ said Peter, pushing his straggly brown hair away from his forehead. ‘They would be better off dead.’

  ‘Go and take a shower,’ said Doris. ‘I’m going to my room.’

  ‘Are you going to make a magic thing?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘You can’t take any of my hair,’ said Peter, backing away from his mother.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Doris. ‘Keep away from the movie people.’

  ‘But you watch them.’

  ‘You’re not allowed to watch them,’ said Doris as she left the room.

  It was late afternoon and Adrian Crampton had moored “Razor” not far from the jetty at the northern end of Lord Howe Island lagoon. He was joined on the fly bridge by the youthful Jeffrey Fietz.

  ‘Where’s Parish?’ asked Crampton.

  ‘Cleaning the guns.’

  ‘The copper didn’t even come aboard for a look,’ said Fietz.

  ‘He seemed to be occupied with the movie people,’ said Crampton. ‘He knows we’re in transit to New Zealand. Boats like ours come and go all the time.’

  Fietz looked over at the “South Sea” sitting majestically around 300 metres to the south. ‘That is one of the latest Acico Yachts,’ he said more to himself that Crampton.

  ‘Worth over 33 million dollars,’ said Crampton. ‘They’ve got a car and two motor bikes parked in a garage at the back of that thing.’

  ‘Rich man’s toy,’ said Fietz.

  ‘The movie people would be renting it. They’d be paying a fortune for that baby.’

  Fietz glanced at Crampton and then back at the huge motor yacht. ‘I wonder if Brenda Grant stays on board while they are here,’ Fietz said rubbing both hands over his black crew cut hair. ‘I’m betting they would pay a fortune to get her back if she went missing for some reason.’

  ‘Forget it,’ said Crampton.

  ‘I think she would be worth more than you are guessing might be in those banks.’

  ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Derik would pluck her. He’s done that kind of shit before.’

  ‘He did time for that kind of shit,’ said Crampton.

  ‘Some creep gave him up. He would have got clean away with it except for the snitch.’

  ‘Derik Parish has better talents where banks are concerned,’ said Crampton. ‘Let’s just leave it at that.’

  ‘Let’s talk some more and see if we can come up with something that might work,’ said Fietz.

  ‘Don’t you think we have enough to think about?’

  Fietz nodded in the direction of the huge motor yacht. ‘It’s a bit like a gift from heaven eh?’

  ‘Two banks on a small island is one thing,’ said Crampton. ‘Brenda Grant is known internationally. You touch her and they’d have the Navy and coppers swarming all over the place.’

  ‘Only if they know she’s been taken,’ said Fietz. ‘She’s well known for her tantrums and not turning up for filming.’

  ‘If she just goes missing, they’ll be straight onto the police,’ said Crampton. ‘You can count on that.’

  ‘She is worth a lot more alive to them than dead,’ said Fietz.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Crampton. ‘It’s not clean like knocking over banks on a remote island.’

  ‘We’ll all talk about it,’ said Fietz. ‘We’ll never get this close to someone like her again.’

  Senior Constable Alan Walsh stopped his four wheel drive police vehicle on the sandy track leading up to the double storeyed grey weatherboard house at the point overlooking the ocean on the eastern side of Lord Howe Island. Tall Kentia palms rose in a thick, wide mass behind the house, their canopy almost totally obscuring sunlight on the jungle floor beneath. The area was aptly named “Valley of Shadows”.

  Constable Walsh approached the front of the house and climbed the timber stairs to the verandah which encompassed the front and both sides of the house. The huge timber door opened before he had a chance to knock. Doris and the Senior Constable were acquainted but for all the wrong reasons. Doris scowled at the tall uniformed man. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Where’s Peter?’

  ‘He’s not home. I don’t know where he is. What are you alleging he’s done now?’

  ‘One of the female movie stars has made an allegation that he approached her and made a death threat.’

  ‘Which movie star?’

  ‘Brenda Grant.’

  ‘She’s nothing but a slut. How does she know it was my son?’

  ‘Described him quite well,’ said Constable Walsh.

  ‘Doesn’t prove a thing.’ Doris Rex smoothed out wrinkles on her tight fitting dress. ‘You’ve just got it in for us.’

  ‘That’s not the case Doris. I’m just doing my job.’

  ‘Well he’s gone bush again so good luck with that one.’

  ‘Are you expecting him back soon?’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Doris.

  ‘Tell him to come and see me when he gets back.’

  ‘You must be joking!’

  ‘It’s either that or I’ll find him one way or another.’

  ‘You’re not that good in the jungle Constable Walsh. You also have that heart condition.’

  ‘I don’t have a heart condition. What are you talking about Doris?’

  ‘You’ll know damn well what I’m talking about.’ Doris stepped back and closed the door in his face.

  Alan Walsh walked back to his police vehicle. Without even thinking he placed his right hand over the area of his heart. He quickly realised what he had done and took his hand away. He had been feeling some pain in the chest from time to time. Perhaps another visit to the local doctor was in order.

  Doris watched the policeman drive away from a curtained window in a small tower room on the left side of the house. She walked back to a heavy chest of drawers and pulled the top drawer open. Three handmade dolls lay on their backs on folde
d newspaper. The doll on the right was dressed in a police uniform. A pin with a bright red plastic knob at the end was stuck through the policeman doll in the area of his heart. Doris picked up another pin and drove the sharp end into her right index finger. Blood dripped on the policeman doll as she pushed the second pin into the doll’s chest.

  Doris closed and locked the drawer. The key was attached to a fine silver chain. She slipped the chain and key around her neck and left the room, moving carefully down the stairs in darkness which had quickly enveloped the house as the sun dipped below the horizon. She moved along a dark hallway towards the kitchen at the rear of the house. Doris didn’t mind the blackness. She knew the layout of the house like the back of her hand.

  ‘Are you around Peter?’ she called loudly.

  Silence.

  Doris turned on the kitchen light. She opened a drawer and found a packet of bandaids. She applied one to the blood oozing from the tip of her right index finger. ‘If you are in the house, I’ll find you!’

  Silence.

  ‘The little bugger’s gone again,’ she whispered to herself. ‘That means he did what the copper said.’ She took out a saucepan and placed it on the portable gas stove. Cheap scotch was splashed into a thick glass tumbler followed by ice cubes. Doris sat down and sipped. She put down the glass and sat back. ‘Time to build some more dolls,’ she said softly. ‘Time that boy got a gammy leg again. He’ll never learn a damn thing.’ She sipped more scotch and looked up at the paint peeling off the ceiling. ‘Please powers that be. How about sending a man into my life? Not powder puffs like the last few. A real man if you know what I mean?’ She ran her left hand over very ample breasts. ‘You gave me this amazing body for my age and it’s going to damn waste. How about working a bit of your own magic on me for a change?’