The Atlantis Stone

by Nick Hawkes

  “Is that really necessary?” asked Benjamin.

  “Relax. I only plan to use the telescopic sights.”

  “The silencer?”

  Archie sniffed. “I’m being a good boy scout.” He climbed up into the chair and settled the rifle across his knees.

  Benjamin was careful to keep back from the window, but he found he could see a little if he stood on the bed. There was only one small table on the pavement in front of the café. A large elderly woman was sitting at it, knitting.

  The two men waited.

  The building they were in had once been an old bank. Someone had since renovated it and divided it into a number of holiday units. The room he was now in had all the modern conveniences but had been allowed to keep its old-fashioned ambience. Benjamin approved.

  Forty-five minutes later, Archie murmured, “They’re here.”

  Benjamin took out his phone, called a number, switched the phone to speaker mode, and placed it on the desktop.

  Archie had the rifle up to his shoulder and began to give a commentary. “Black hire car…parked on the opposite side…two men…one getting out…short…gray suit…black hair…it’s Doran Khayef…walking across the road…Gabrielle on doorstep…slipping her phone into her apron pocket…she’s putting on long, black theater gloves…looking dramatic. Stay quiet now.”

  The ensuing conversation could be heard through Benjamin’s phone.

  “Good morning, sir. Coffee? We serve the best coffee in town.”

  “I want to sit at a table outside.”

  “Sure. I’m just putting the tables outside. If you give me a hand, we’ll put one outside for you.”

  “What bloody time do you get up and going in the country? It should all be set up by now.”

  “Ah, sir, it’s been a bit chilly. But the sun’s out now. It’ll be lovely out here. Can you take the edge of this table and give me a hand?”

  Indistinct grumble. Scuffling noises.

  “Now, sir, what can I get you?”

  “A skinny chai latte. And I need another chair. I’m expecting someone.”

  “Certainly, sir. What about a Melting Moment? I recommend them.”

  “Oh, I suppose so. One of those too.”

  Time passed.

  A fly flew in through the window and started to buzz around Archie’s head. He didn’t flinch or acknowledge it in any way. Benjamin crept forward and swatted it away.

  Ten minutes later, more conversation could be heard on the phone. “Here you are, sir. I hope you enjoy it.” Clunk. Clatter. “Are you here on business or having a holiday?”

  Pause. “Business…with one of your locals.” Pause. “I hope he’s out of bed because he’s twenty minutes late.”

  “Oh, who would that be, sir? I know a lot of people around here.”

  “Mind your own bloody…no, well perhaps you might. He might have already been here. I was a bit late. Perhaps you can tell me. His name is Benjamin Bidjara.”

  “Oh, Benny.”

  Benjamin winced.

  “Yes, I know Benny. He’s been here a few times. He’s a bit…well, slow, socially. Can’t pick it when a woman’s cracking on to him…and he eats with his mouth open.”

  “He hasn’t been here this morning?”

  “Nah.”

  “Damn and blast.” Pause. “He’s late.” Scraping noises. “Bloody man. I’m not going to wait any more.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Benny’s a wood-turner, an artist…and they’re a strange lot. It can sometimes be difficult to get them to pull their head out of their arses to see what’s right in front of their eyes.”

  “Well, tell him…tell him he’s had his chance.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Archie continued his commentary. “Khayef crossing road…getting into car…slamming door…car moving off.”

  He dropped the rifle from his shoulder and began dismantling it. “Right, we’re clear. Let’s pack up and go.” Benjamin walked over to the window. The large woman who had been knitting was now holding a large black garbage bag open as Gabrielle dropped the clear, plastic table top cover into it. Gabrielle glanced up at the window as she tied the neck of the plastic bag into a knot. Benjamin gave her a thumbs up.

  Gabrielle grinned and extended her middle finger at him, rudely.

  Fifteen minutes later, Benjamin and Archie were crossing the old wooden footbridge over the Moyne River to the eastern bank. The sun glinted cheerfully on the water as it lapped against the mud and sedges. The tranquility of their surroundings was at odds with the savage business they were about to engage in. Benjamin was no longer carrying Marjorie’s box but was now holding the black bin liner. It contained nine unused clear plastic table coverings and one used one.

  Once across the bridge, they turned right and walked down Griffith Street toward the slipway. It wasn’t long before Benjamin saw his ute, looking unfamiliar in it’s black livery. It was hitched to the double-bogey trailer carrying the Shark Cat.

  They packed their bags with the rest of the gear inside the boat and got into the ute. Benjamin took a deep breath. His role had been fairly passive thus far but this was no longer going to be the case. For better or for worse, he was now fully involved.

  The ute had its back pressed well down by the heavy, and occasionally bucking, boat trailer. Benjamin drove at a stately pace north to Hamilton, then on, past the rocky ranges of the Grampians to Horsham. After three-and-a-half hours driving, he turned in to a caravan park where the two of them booked a cabin.

  Benjamin and Archie unhooked the boat trailer and carried the luggage from the Shark Cat into the cabin, where it could be kept safe. By the time all the gear was inside, there was very little floor space left. The only piece of luggage they didn’t carry inside was a large plastic storage bin. Archie lifted it out of the Shark Cat and strapped it onto the tray of the ute.

  “Will that be big enough?” asked Benjamin.

  “It has a sixty-liter capacity. Should do. Let’s grab something to eat. Then I need to make a phone call.”

  Benjamin didn’t find the next three hours very easy. He was seething with anxiety, questions, and self-doubt.

  Archie was inspecting his phone. He had just finished speaking with Phoebe and was now checking the weather forecast. “We’ll have a bit of light. There’s a half-moon. No rain.”

  “What did Phoebe say?”

  “The truck’s been loaded and is due to leave Adelaide at 4:30pm. It’s a red Kenworth semi-trailer. It’s got Night Rider stenciled on the bonnet spoiler. She should be pretty easy to spot. We’ll wait for it on the Adelaide side of Horsham and then tail her.”

  “And Phoebe’s sure the police won’t be tailing it?”

  Archie nodded. “They’ve got watching points along the way at Horsham, Ararat, and Ballarat. They won’t be tailing them in a car. The last time they did that, the truck driver noticed, pulled into a truck stop, and did a runner. The police won’t start tailing the truck until it gets near the Westgate Bridge outside of Melbourne. They’re planning the drug bust when it arrives at the warehouse.”

  “What are our chances?”

  “About fifty-fifty. We’ve got a lot of points at which we can bail out.” He shrugged. “If the traffic won’t let us get alongside the truck before one of the rest stops, we won’t even try.”

  Benjamin closed his eyes and leaned back on his bed. They only had a fifty-fifty chance of pulling it off. He felt sick. And if they did succeed, they were only at the beginning of what was required to attack Khayef. Benjamin continued to fret. “We know that the truck is carrying bags of fertilizer on pallets but how sure are we that we know which one the drugs will be in?”

  “We’re not.” Archie grinned. “That’s what makes it so exciting.”

  Benjamin shivered and again wondered at the extraordinary psyche required by the SAS. One thing he was very sure of, he couldn’t do it.

  Archie continued. “All we’ve got is logic. That tells me that the drugs will b
e in the third or fourth pallet they load. It will probably be on top of the first two pallets. That way, the bags carrying the drugs are less likely to be crushed and damaged. By putting them in against the end wall of the container, they lessen the chances of detection. Anyone wanting to inspect the cargo will have to remove all the other pallets in order to get to them.” He glanced at Benjamin from under his pale eyebrows. ‘relax, mate. Doing bold and arsey things doesn’t mean we don’t put a priority on safety. If we don’t find the drugs in the end pallets, we bail out. Okay?”

  Safety…yeah. Benjamin could think of a better definition of ‘safety’ than the activities they were contemplating.

  Chapter 21

  “How far ahead is the next rest stop?” Benjamin consciously eased his grip on the steering wheel and tried to relax. He was holding it too tightly. Both he and Archie were dressed in black wetsuits and were wearing reinforced diver’s gloves.

  Archie looked at the GPS map on his phone. “About two kilometers.”

  Benjamin checked his rear view mirror. His heart started to pound as he heard himself say, “Traffic’s pretty light and there’s a dual carriageway just ahead. This might be our opportunity.”

  “Okay. Make up ground on the truck—as if you’re keen to overtake.”

  They had already passed one rest area because of congested traffic. Benjamin was slightly ashamed at feeling a sense of relief: perhaps they would have an excuse not to continue their madcap plan. The decision had been made to abort the mission if they couldn’t make use of the first three rest areas. These areas were primarily designed to allow truck drivers to pull over and sleep if they were close to exceeding the length of time they could legally drive. Car drivers also used them to rest and revive. Because the Adelaide to Melbourne run was only eight hours, drivers from Adelaide rarely stopped in these bays. At night, they were invariably deserted—in theory.

  A double set of truck tail-lights glared at them from two hundred meters ahead.

  “Make ground, buddy,” urged Archie. “Get a move on.”

  Benjamin flattened the accelerator.

  The tail-lights drew closer.

  Archie opened the glove compartment and pulled out a black automatic pistol. It looked brutal and sinister—an impression in no way diminished by the silencer screwed onto its end. Benjamin shuddered as Archie cocked the gun and chambered a bullet into the breech.

  “Get up to the drive tires and then ease back for a few seconds. If we blow one of those, they’ll have to stop pretty quickly. With a bit of luck, a single shot will blow out a double set.”

  Benjamin nodded dumbly.

  The road suddenly widened into dual carriageway. He swung the ute out and began to overtake the semi-trailer. The trailer had a row of orange lights along its length. Slowly, they went past: one…two…three…four. Then the first of the twin sets of drive wheels approached. They were huge and thundered just one meter from Archie’s open window. Archie barely appeared to raise the gun. It coughed twice in quick succession. “As fast as you can now,” ordered Archie.

  Benjamin was dimly aware of a flopping noise and the truck rapidly falling behind them as he sped ahead. From the corner of his eye, he saw a sign on the side of the road: Rest Area—500 meters.

  Archie continued to give directions. “About fifty meters from the rest area, switch off your lights and pull in. Brake to a stop using only the handbrake. Park near the entrance under the trees. Leave the engine running.”

  “Okay.”

  And suddenly, there it was: the slipway to the rest area was up ahead on the left. Benjamin took his foot off the accelerator, switched off the headlights, and pulled on the handbrake. The ute shuddered and threatened to fishtail. He fought the car back under control with one hand while continuing to pull on the handbrake. They rumbled along the graded dirt until they came to a stop beside some trees.

  Archie and Benjamin donned diver’s masks, then got out and crouched down behind the ute.

  They didn’t have very long to wait. Benjamin watched with terrified fascination as the snarling truck swung its bluff nose off the highway, onto the slipway leading to the rest stop. It growled its way past the ute, losing momentum until it came to a standstill with a hissing of brakes. Dust from the dirt surface billowed out from under its wheels.

  For a moment, no one moved. The drivers in the truck’s cabin stayed where they were. They had left the headlights of the truck switched on as if they were undecided.

  “Go!” Yelled Archie.

  Benjamin and Archie sprinted through the dust toward the cabin of the truck. Archie leaped onto the running board and smashed the passenger window with the butt of the pistol. As he jumped back down to the ground, Benjamin sprang up behind him and threw a shoebox into the cabin before leaping back down.

  Almost immediately there was a howl and a curse. Two drivers hurled themselves from the cabin, one from the passenger side and the other from the driver’s side. They were followed by a cloud of angry wasps. A sawn-off shotgun fell from the passenger seat onto the ground beside the truck. The man who had been holding it was now bent double, swatting at the wasps.

  Benjamin trusted Archie to take care of the man on the driver’s side. He pulled out the taser from the haversack slung around his shoulders, and shot it at the man in front of him.

  Four minutes later, both drivers had their mouths and eyes taped with gray duct tape.

  Benjamin stood guard over them as Archie climbed up into the cabin. After brushing the shoebox containing the papery wasp nest onto the ground, he revved the truck’s engine, doused the lights, and released the brake. The prime mover hissed air, revved again, and lurched forward. Archie turned the truck hard right and then killed the engine. The cab, with its fiberglass wind deflector, now obscured the end of the container from the road. Benjamin was also grateful for the line of trees that helped obscure the truck from passing motorists.

  Archie climbed down and handcuffed the two drivers’ hands onto the trailer’s tie rail.

  Benjamin shook his head to remind himself he wasn’t in a dream and forced himself into action. He climbed on top of the turntable coupling and stood up behind the end of the metal container. He reached up but couldn’t touch the top of it. Below him, Archie was pulling at the starter motor of the petrol-driven demolition saw. Brrr…brrr…brrr.

  Please start! Please start!

  The saw roared into life. Once it had settled down into a burble, Archie handed it up to Benjamin.

  The weight of the demolition saw was appalling. Benjamin would only be able to hold it above his head for short moments at a time. He pressed the trigger. The large cutting blade started to spin as the engine howled angrily. It made a terrible noise. He hefted the saw above his head and eased the blade into the metal. The unit bucked, and sparks squirted away to his right. The big blade cut through the thin metal almost instantly. It was just as well; holding and controlling the saw above his head was almost more than he could manage. He needed to rest four times before he had cut horizontally across the end of the container.

  Benjamin then put a second cut across the container, two meters lower. His forearms and shoulders screamed for mercy as the heavy saw again juddered its way through the metal. Cutting down low was easier but even so, he was almost whimpering with fatigue by the time he had finished. He let go of the trigger and rested the heavy saw at his feet. Sweat was running down the inside of his wetsuit in the places where it wasn’t compressing him. His facemask was beginning to mist up. Seconds counted. Two cuts to go, both vertical.

  Benjamin hauled the saw above his head again and began to cut downward. Sparks showered toward him—blinding him, and bouncing off his facemask. He could feel tiny needle pricks as the sparks found the small area of unprotected flesh around his mouth. With huge relief, he discovered that the saw was easy to control at this angle. He cut down to the lower horizontal cut in just a few seconds.

  After resting briefly, Benjamin began the final cut. As he
sliced toward the bottom, it occurred to him that a plate of steel measuring over four meters square was likely to fall on top of him. To his relief, Archie climbed up beside him and took hold of the thin steel plate with his reinforced gloves, as it began to twist forward.

  “Drop the saw and jump!” Archie yelled.

  Benjamin did so. Heedless of its well-being, he dropped the saw and vaulted down to the ground. A second later, Archie yelled, “Look out!”

  A large panel of container steel dropped onto the turntable with a bang and somersaulted on to the ground.

  Dust hung in the air.

  Benjamin picked himself up from the ground and retrieved the demolition saw. Surprisingly, it was still working. He killed its engine and lifted it into the ute, nestling it between some spare tires.

  He returned to the truck and looked up inside the container. Plastic bags of fertilizer were stacked on four pallets two on top of two. Archie was unable to reach the top layer of bags. They were still hidden behind the steel wall that Benjamin hadn’t been able to reach and cut out. He was, however, pulling at the second-top layer of bags. He’d gained a purchase on it by slashing it with a knife so that it spilled much of its contents. Fertilizer pellets cascaded down around him.

  Benjamin’s job was now to watch, nothing more. It was just as well: he was exhausted. He and Archie had worked out earlier who would do what tasks so that the physical demands were shared.

  Trucks and cars hummed past them on the other side of the line of trees, their headlights staring ahead, all apparently innocent of what was going on.

  It was surreal.

  Benjamin looked back to the pallets of fertilizer. The edges of three bags per layer could be seen. It was, as Archie had previously explained, a pattern that allowed the center of a pallet to contain anything and remain invisible from the outside.

  Archie continued to burrow away. Bags of fertilizer now fell out quickly. Some fell to the ground, others fell onto the turning bed and had to be kicked onto the ground. He worked his way down one wall of a pallet until he’d gone half way.