by Ian Wisby
THE
REPUBLIC
OF OZ
By
IAN WISBY
Copyright © 2019 by Ian Wisby
THE REPUBLIC OF OZ
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Published by: HAVELOCK Publishing., est. 2019
First printing edition 2019.
(E-book Edition)
Table of content
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Appendix
DEDICATION
I would like to dedicate this book to my family and friends who believe in me. Thank you.
CHAPTER 1
IT WAS A seedy autumn morning in Sydney. An alarm clock started beeping, loudly and continuously. A woman’s hand reached out to shut it up. The woman flails at it blindly. It shuts up.
And then Detective Sergeant Diane Faulkner groaned and sits up in the disordered bed. She blinks, and adjusts her eye sight as she looked around the room.
It was early morning, and Diane could hear the distant sound of car horns beeping as they drove past.
Next to her was Ethan Cooper, Detective Sergeant of the AFP’s Criminal Investigative Branch. He groaned and threw a forearm over his eyes.
Next to the alarm clock on the bedside table was a kettle, an almost empty jar of instant coffee, a dirty spoon, and a squashed carton of milk. As Diane got up, Ethan leaned over and turned on the kettle.
Tired and barefoot, Ethan started buttoning his shirt. His jacket and shoes in a pile on the floor - hastily removed.
Dressed, Diane attempted to pour milk into her mug. But there was no milk left. It was empty. She then proceeded to sip her black coffee.
Near the window is a TV balanced on a chair. They’re watching the AFP Commissioner give a statement to the media about the recent terrorist attack in Melbourne.
About two weeks ago, a bomb went off in a garbage bin outside Melbourne’s Tullamarine Airport. The explosion went off at the Domestic terminal, and killed fourteen people, and injuring up to thirty others.
It was believed the attack was carried out by an extremist terrorist group, but the AFP were still conducting a thorough investigation into the matter.
The interview’s still on TV - ending, now. Ethan began knotting his tie, something he hated doing, but it was a matter of professionalism.
Diane slipped on her jacket. Frowning, Ethan began to pat himself down. He’s lost something. Diane reached under the bed and immediately found his keys.
She threw them to him. He caught them. She smiled, and gave him a cheeky wink. It was a good moment between them. For the past six months, Ethan and Diane had been romantically involved with each other.
It was somewhat awkward at the office, but they didn’t let that get in the way of sleeping with each other. “You okay?” she asked, with a sleepy but playful smile. Ethan pocketed his keys.
“As good as I’ll ever be. Could’ve used a bit more sleep,” he replied.
“Well, that wasn’t my fault,” Diane replied, with sarcasm. Ethan chuckled, as he knew exactly what she was talking about. There wasn’t much sleeping going on last night.
“Right, I’m heading to the office. You want a ride?” he asked. But Diane shook her head.
“No, we agreed not to make it obvious. Give me five minutes’ head start?” she asked. They both chuckled, and Diane got up to leave.
* * *
Simon Harper, a man who’d just turned forty, was sprinting along Bondi Beach. Simon liked to go running every morning at 6am.
His morning exercise routine consisted of an hour long jog, followed by a sprint along the beach, before finally jogging back to his house.
Simon lived in Bondi Junction, an eastern suburb of Sydney, and was roughly six kilometres from the central business district.
He shared a two-level townhouse on Bennett Street with his wife, Kelly Harper. They’d recently bought the modern, spacious townhouse, as Simon had been offered a job with ASIO.
Simon Harper was in fact an Intelligence Officer with the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation. Although ASIO was headquartered in Canberra, his position was at the ASIO office based in Sydney.
His wife Kelly was a Registered Nurse and worked at Sydney Hospital. They both loved each other, and hoped to one day have a child.
But things were a bit chaotic at the moment, and the timing wasn’t right. These things shouldn’t be rushed.
Simon was finishing his morning run. After sprinting along the beach, he started making his way back home.
He pushed through the front gate and headed up the footpath that led to the veranda. It wasn’t much, but it was a suitable place for a young couple starting out.
Simon checked his watch upon pushing open the front door. It was now 7:30 am. He would be getting ready for work soon, and he still needed to shower.
But first, he needed to see the love of his life, who was currently in the kitchen.
Kelly was dressed in her nurse’s uniform as she was about to leave for the morning shift. Simon wandered into the kitchen, snatched an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite. “Good morning, Nurse Harper,” he said, with sarcasm. He wrapped his thick arms around her waist.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she replied, in the same cheeky manner. “You smell gross.”
“That would be sweat. I’m going for a shower,” he replied, taking another bite of his apple.
“You home late tonight?” asked Kelly, as she was madly getting ready.
“Possibly. Shouldn’t be too late, I hope.” There was a TV on in the lounge room. Simon continued eating his apple as he checked the news report.
It was stating that the Prime Minister would be heading to Melbourne this morning to pay his respects to the victims in the Melbourne airport attack. “Another day in paradise,” Simon said to himself, as he bit into the apple.
* * *
Mahmoud Al-Hakim stood proudly in the living room of his townhouse apartment in Sydney. He was standing there, dressed neatly in a black suit, he’s ready for work, but still had plenty of time to catch the morning news.
And the news was great. He stood there sipping his morning coffee as the report was showing an update on the recent bomb attack at Melbourne Airport two we
eks ago.
The reporters were stating that over a dozen people were killed in the blast, and more than thirty people were severely injured.
Mahmoud made a sinister grin as he watched the emergency services helping the injured people, and he seemed to be delighted as the cameras showed countless body bags on the ground.
Mahmoud took a sip of his coffee. He’s finished it now. He then glanced at his watch, that time went quicker than expected. He needed to be somewhere. He collected his jacket and briefcase before heading to the door.
Mahmoud was one of those lucky immigrants, who’d come to Australia for a chance at a better life.
But what no one was aware of was that Mahmoud managed to hide a dark secret. He was an extremist terrorist, bent on bringing chaos and destruction to the West.
When he came here, he played the innocent and surpassed all background checks. He was given a new identity, a home, and Australian citizenship.
He also spoke fluent English now; using his Australian name, Marcus Hayman, Mahmoud worked as a used car salesman at a local dealership. Of course, this job was just a cover for his real mission.
Mahmoud made his way out of the house, down the front steps and down the footpath where he opened the front door to his car, and climbed in.
Before heading to work, he was scheduled to meet with one of his brothers. He drove across town and pulled into an albeit empty carpark. Mahmoud pulled up alongside another vehicle.
He wound down his window, and the owner of the other one, did the same. “Hello again, my brother,” said the man. He too was of Middle-Eastern descent.
“Today is a good day, my brother…You saw the glorious victory on the news?”
“Yes. Our brothers did well. But it’s not enough to shake the fear into them,” he said.
“I know. Do not worry about that. The next strike will be even bigger,” said Mahmoud. “Have the arrangements been made?”
“Yes, I spoke with Bashir. Everything is on schedule. We just need to know the target,” he said. Mahmoud didn’t say anything at first. He then slipped on his sunglasses, and started up the engine.
“I’ll have a target picked out by lunch time. Just stand by for instructions,” said Mahmoud, and the other one nodded. Mahmoud wound up the window and he pulled out of the carpark.
CHAPTER 2
DETECTIVE SERGEANT ETHAN Cooper stepped off the elevator. He made his way onto the main Operations Centre. Ethan Cooper was forty-one years old.
He was born in Warnbro, a suburb of Rockingham in Western Australia. Ethan had a sister, Rebecca Cooper, who was his twin.
He’d enlisted with the Australian Defence Force at the age of 19. He studied and trained at the Royal Military College in Canberra, and upon graduation, he became an Infantry Officer.
After serving in the Royal Australian Army for the next ten years, he was then selected as an officer with the Special Air Service Regiment.
He was about six foot five with broad shoulders and had an athletically toned torso. In high school, he played on his school’s basketball team and won many championships.
He had short hair that was neatly combed and a five o’clock shadow.
He had sleeve tattoos on both arms and could just be seen out from his tailored shirt. He wore a three-piece business suit and blazer.
Although Ethan had been working here for about twelve months now, he was still getting used to the idea of being a detective.
He took a sip of his coffee, and made his way across the floor. He smiled and nodded at his colleagues as he headed over to the ‘master’s’ office.
At least, that’s what Felicity Meyers liked to believe she was. “Morning, Felicity. Enjoy your weekend?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.
“There was a weekend?” she replied, with sarcasm. “You make me laugh, Ethanol.” Felicity came up with the nickname of Ethanol the very first day she met him. Ethan just chuckled, and took another sip of his coffee. “How’s Emily?” she asked, as she typed at her computer. Emily was Ethan’s daughter.
“She’s fine, she just started Year 11,” he replied, and Felicity smiled. “So, any updates?”
“Still have nothing on the bombers. We’re running up dry on leads at the moment,” she said, still looking at her screen.
“That’s a shame, we’ll get these bastards. But keep up the good work,” he said. Felicity grinned. Then, Ethan turned and headed across the floor.
Mick Greer was in the briefing room. He was there with Detective Sergeant Diane Faulkner, and they were just waiting on Ethan Cooper, who was walking through the door now.
“You’re late,” said Mick, as Ethan came in and sat down straight away. He sat next to Diane, who gave him a cheeky, but discrete grin.
“Sorry, got held up,” he said. Mick didn’t seem too pleased.
Michael ‘Mick’ Greer, was the Detective Inspector, DI for short, of the Australian Federal Police’s Criminal Investigative Branch, or CIB.
The department was responsible for the investigation and prevention of crime, organized crime as well as acts of terrorism and politically motivated violence within Australia.
As the Detective Inspector, Mick Greer was the head of the unit, and he reported to his boss, the Superintendent, Anna Mackenzie.
“Right, well, you’re both conversant with the situation at hand. The Commissioner is still grueling at the fact that it’s been two weeks since the bomb attack at Melbourne Airport, and this task force has drawn up nothing as far as a single suspect,” said Mick. The two looked at each other. “He wants answers. The Premier is cracking down, because it’s an election year, he wants to be seen as the hero.”
“That’s typical,” said Ethan. “We’re just not finding anyone on the radar that’s behind the bombing.”
“I don’t want to hear that, Detective. This task force is designed to combat and investigate acts of terrorism and bring those responsible to justice,” said Mick. Ethan was quite surprised by Mick’s abruptness.
But it was understandable that he was under a lot of pressure. Just then, there was a tap on the door. Mick looked up to see Felicity opening it. She was summoned and she was accompanied by another man.
“Sorry to interrupt Boss, Simon Harper is here,” she said.
“Ah yes, of course, from ASIO. Come in,” he said. Mick stood up and reached out to shake Simon’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Harper,” said Mick.
“All good stuff I hope? And please, call me Simon,” he added. “Hey, Ethan. Good to see you again,” he said, looking towards Ethan.
“You too.”
“So, you too were both in the same SASR unit?” asked Mick, changing the conversation.
“Yes, that’s correct. We served in the unit for five years,” he said. The room fell silent after that, and there was a moment of awkwardness between Simon and Ethan.
“So, why is ASIO involved with this case?” asked Diane, breaking the silence.
“Right now, ASIO currently has its eyes fixed on an individual who goes by the name of Mahmoud Al-Hakim…He’s an Arab Muslim and been living in Australia since 2002. He first came onto the radar about six months ago, when ASIO picked up a call between Al-Hakim and an ISIS leader in Afghanistan…It appears Al-Hakim received orders to carry out an attack in his honour,” Simon explained.
“Do we know where Al-Hakim is now?” asked Ethan. Mick clicked a button on the remote and the screen changed.
“Not at this point, but we suspect Al-Hakim is operating his terrorist cell here in Sydney,” Simon explained.
“So we need to locate and identify Al-Hakim’s cell members, as well as the cell’s headquarters,” said Mick. There was another pause, as the four of them sat there looking at the image on the screen of Mahmoud Al-Hakim. The shot was of him talking on the phone while getting into his car.
“I may have something,” Diane added, finally contributing to the dwindling and awkward conversation. She could almost feel Ethan sighing with rel
ief that she spoke. “I’ve arranged a meet with an asset of mine named Malik. He’s been working deep undercover with a homegrown sleeper cell operating here in Sydney,” Diane explained. “He says he’s got something for me.”
“Any idea what?” asked Mick, but Diane shook her head.
“No. For all I know, it could be an invitation to his son’s birthday party,” she replied. “But he’s proven to be a good reliable source.” She then gave Simon Harper a cheeky, but discrete grin and a wink.
“Good. Then follow it up, birthday party invitation or otherwise,” said Mick, and she nodded. “We need to provide results. Somewhere in this city, there’s a terrorist, and he’s plotting something big,” Mick added.
* * *
Sameer Amal was an undergraduate student at the University of Sydney. He was currently studying a four-year engineering degree and excelling well at all his units. Sameer had been living in Australia since he was about twelve years old, when he and his parents immigrated from the Middle East.
He became a naturalized Australian and received a scholarship to study his chosen degree. Sameer had only just turned twenty-two when he got accepted into university, and he couldn’t be happier.
Sameer also worked at his local tuck shop, a family business, and worked there during his spare time. However, Sameer kept a secret. No one else knew about it except him. Not even his parents knew.
This morning, he’d just finished his morning Salat, a spiritual act of worship. Sameer Amal was Muslim and practiced Salat five times a day. After finishing up his prayer service for the morning, Sameer came out of the main entrance from the Mosque in Sydney’s CBD.
He put on his sunglasses, as the sun was quite bright this time of morning. Then he started making his way down the footpath, passing dozens of people.
As he walked, Sameer took out his mobile phone, and started dialing a number. It took a few moments to ring, and then the call went through. “Yes?” a voice answered.