by Ian Wisby
Karl couldn’t believe that so many people would be coming to pay their respects to a woman who wanted to declare independence from the British Commonwealth.
As he sat there enjoying his Bourbon, his desk phone beeped. Who could possibly be calling at this time of night? He thought to himself, as he took another sip. “Yes?” he answered, after pressing the call button.
“Sorry to disturb you Sir, but there’s a woman here to see you,” said the nervous voice of Karl Benedict’s Executive Assistant. Karl paused for a moment, as he tried to figure out who it would be. It couldn’t have been his wife, as she died five years ago.
“Who is it?”
“She wouldn’t say. Just that it was important. She said it was about tomorrow?” she said. Karl’s eyes widened. “She said you’d know what she meant.” Karl let out a sigh, and closed his eyes in frustration. There was always something. “I can tell her you’re unavailable?”
“No, no. Send her in, please…And you can go home,” said Karl.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, and the call disconnected. Karl finished off the rest of his drink. He then proceeded to pour two new ones in preparation for the meeting. Then, the glass door opened.
“I usually don’t accept meetings after hours. This had better be damn important,” he said. “Care for a drink?” He pushed the glass forward on the desk. A woman’s hand reach over to grab it. Her skin was wrinkly from age, but she’d probably be in her mid-fifties.
“This couldn’t wait. Besides, you weren’t answering your calls,” said the woman. Of course, Karl didn’t say anything to that.
“What’s this about?”
“They’re on to you,” said the woman.
“And who’s they?”
“The Boy Scouts,” she said, sarcastically. “Who do you think?” the woman paused for a moment. “I’ve just got out of a meeting with the Detective Inspector of the AFP’s Criminal Investigative Branch…His task force are close to working out that your ‘corporation’ were responsible for the assassination of Charmaine Bradley…Not to mention almost a dozen other people involved in this scheme,” she said.
“You can’t be fucking serious, Anna?”
“I’m deadly serious. I know Mick Greer personally, and he does things by the book. He’s also got some of the best detectives working for him.” Karl paused for a moment.
“You’re talking about Ethan Cooper?” the woman known as Anna nodded.
“Yes. Your man should’ve taken care of him.”
“I thought he did?”
“No. It turns out that Detective Cooper reached out to your dirty Intelligence Officer, Simon Harper.” Anna knew he was getting angry inside, and one more bit of bad news would force him to explode like a volcano.
“Well, this is a fucking disaster,” said Karl. Anna raised her eyebrow.
“That’s a bit of an understatement, but yes.”
“There’s not much we can do about it. The operation has been put into motion. Come tomorrow, this whole country will change,” said Karl. Anna didn’t say anything at that. She put the glass down on the table.
“I hope you’re right about that, Karl. Because if these people find out we’re involved, I’m not going to go down because of it,” she snapped.
She gave him a stern look, then turned and headed towards the door.
* * *
It was approaching eight thirty in the evening. The sun had well and truly gone down, and Sydney was in darkness. The city was lit up by its brilliantly lit buildings. There were pleasure yachts in the bay and couples were enjoying a nice elegant meal.
Further up the bay, there was an island which was referred to as Cockatoo Island. Once used as a prison during the days of the British Empire, it was since converted into a shipping yard.
It was until recently abandoned and turned into a heritage site and a common tourist attraction. But today, it was being used by a group of men. This particular group were mercenaries and employees of Birchall McClelland, led by Major-General George Stanley.
General Stanley was standing against the railing and looked out across the bay towards the city skyline. The General, a man in his mid-forties, was clearing his mind before he and his men were to carry out one final mission.
His men, a group of six highly trained para-military officers, were gearing up and getting ready to leave. They’d been loading their equipment and weapons into a black rubber zodiac.
As the General stood there finishing his cigarette, one of his men, Lieutenant Manson came up to him, and stood to attention. “General Sir, the boat is loaded and ready to ship off,” he said. General Stanley put out the cigarette and turned to face his officer.
He then grinned.
“Good. Then let’s move out,” he said. After squishing the cigarette with his boot, he headed over to the zodiac where the other men were waiting. “Gentlemen, we’re heading out.” The men climbed into the zodiac. As they did so, General Stanley took out his phone to dial a number. “It’s me. We’re just about to leave.”
“Excellent. How long before you get to the target?”
“We should be there in less than ten minutes,” he replied.
“Good. No more communication until after the target is secured. Good luck, General.” The General grinned.
“Thank you, Mr. Benedict,” said Stanley, and hung up. After he did so, he climbed into the boat and it slowly sped off.
The boat skimmed across the blackened waters of Port Jackson and was heading in the direction of the city.
* * *
The Operations Centre was still swimming with personnel. However, some had gone home, as it was approaching 8:45 p.m.
One of the people still at the office was in fact Felicity Meyers. She was typing away at her computer. At the moment, she was working on something sensitive.
It was the laptop she got from Ethan when he was attacked by his friend, Simon Harper. There was a lot of stuff on the hard-drive, mostly were top secret files from ASIO.
She managed to decrypt several of the files, but found that most of them were irrelevant to what they were investigating.
At the same time, she was going through all the data that was stored on Simon Harper’s hard drive. The laptop was pretty much dead, but she managed to salvage the hard drive. Which was the most important part.
She was going through all the data, sifting out the important bits, and the stuff that was just random.
Just then, Felicity looked up as she saw two uniformed officers approaching her. They were standing side by side a man who was handcuffed.
She had no idea what was going on. As they approached her desk, she stood up. “Can I help you officers?”
“This man is a walk-in. He’s confessed to being responsible for planting the bomb at the Opera House. He’s turning himself in,” said the officer. “His name is Gregory Hughes.”
A few moments later, Inspector Mick Greer came out from his office. Ethan and Diane accompanied him.
“Felicity, what’s going on?” asked Mick.
“This man is turning himself in. He’s confessing to being responsible for the Australia Day bombing,” she said. The room fell silent after that, and everyone looked at each other, with shock.
“I see, well, officers please escort this gentleman to Interview room 3,” he said. The officers led him across the floor. Everyone looked up and watched as they left.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Diane.
“I’ve got no idea, but we’re about to find out,” said Mick. “Diane, I want you to interview this guy. Ethan, you’re with me in the observation room.”
Greg Hughes was taken into one of CIB’s interview rooms. It was a dull, grey room with only a table in the centre, with two metal chairs.
On one of the walls was a large window made with double-sided glass. This was so detectives could observe the interview. Mick Greer and Ethan stepped into the room.
Felicity was there and she was setting up equipment used to m
onitor the suspect’s mood levels. “This is going to be interesting,” Ethan commented.
“Felicity, are we all set?” said Mick, and she nodded. At that, Detective Sergeant Diane Faulkner came into the interview room.
She was carrying a folder, and sat down opposite Greg. She opened the folder and clicked her pen.
“Can you please state your full name for the record?” she asked.
“My name is Gregory Hughes,” he said. Diane scribbled it down. She then proceeded to place in front of him, images from the bomb site. They were images of dozens of body bags lined up next to each other.
“These are images of the countless families you destroyed when you planted that bomb,” she began.
“I know what I did, Detective…But I’m here because I realise now that this was wrong. I did not sign up for this, tragedy,” he said.
“So, what you’ve had a change in heart?” Greg closed his eyes and slowly nodded. “Tell us one good reason why we shouldn’t believe you?” Greg didn’t respond straight away, and let out a sigh.
“Because, Birchall McClelland are evil. They are greedy, and they are corrupt. I don’t want to be part of that anymore. I know what they are capable of. They’ve murdered people like me for doing what I’m doing now,” he said. Diane sat there, listening.
She didn’t know whether to punch the guy in the face, or let him continue to speak. Meanwhile, Ethan and Mick were watching from the observation room, listening intently. “I’ve been working for BMC for the past twelve months, and I know what they are capable of.”
“So why did you turn yourself in now?”
“I know BMC are plotting something else. The bomb attack at the Opera House was just the beginning.”
“Let me guess, you want something in return for giving up this information freely?” she asked, but to her surprise, Greg shook his head.
“No. I don’t want any special treatment. What I did was wrong. What they are planning is wrong, and I want them to pay for what they’ve done. They need to be stopped,” he said.
“So, what exactly is it they are plotting?” Greg paused for a moment, and took a sip of water.
“Since the bomb attack failed to prevent this country from becoming a republic, BMC are moving onto the next stage of the operation.”
“And that is?”
“They want to take control of the government. To do this, they’re planning a siege. They’re planning to take control of the Admiralty House, and publicly execute the new President,” he explained. Diane’s eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what was being said.
“How do we know this information is accurate?”
“Because, I know you have Simon Harper’s laptop. On it are a set of schematics of the Admiralty House. Simon stole them from the Department of Defence, and sold them to BMC.”
“And how exactly is this, ‘siege’, being carried out?”
“BMC have their own paramilitary units. They’ll be coming in from the water front,” he said. Diane paused for a moment, as she scribbled notes on her pad. Just then, she looked over shoulder as she heard a tap on the glass.
“Sit tight, I’ll be right back,” she said, and got up to leave. She went into the observation room where Mick and Ethan were standing around Felicity. “You get all that?”
“Yes, we’re just checking Simon’s laptop now,” said Mick. Felicity was navigating through the hard drive she obtained from the laptop. It took some time, but she finally managed to find a secure file. She opened it, and sure enough, it was a set of schematics of the Admiralty House. Felicity gasped.
“Son of a bitch was telling the truth,” said Ethan.
“This could mean anything, I mean, he’s a criminal for God’s sake. He could be making this up,” Diane interjected.
“But what if this is real, and something bad is going down?” Felicity replied. There was a pause, as Mick looked at Ethan.
“I have to agree. The President is hosting a function tonight at the Admiralty House. It’s in memory of Charmaine Bradley. I’ll call security,” said Mick, and went to pick up the phone.
He started dialling a number, but as he completed the sequence, there was no connection, just static. “Hm, that’s odd. There’s no connection.”
“Did you dial the correct number?” asked Ethan.
“Yes, I know the chief of security for the President. He’s on shift tonight,” said Mick. “There’s still no connection.”
“Try calling the President’s office directly?” Felicity suggested. Her heart rate was starting to race. She knew something was wrong.
“Yes, this is Detective Inspector Mick Greer, Criminal Investigative Branch. I’d like to speak with the President’s Official Secretary. Urgently,” he said. “She’s putting me through.”
“This is Joe Parsons.”
“Mr. Parsons, this is Inspector Greer, CIB. I’ve been trying to get through to security.”
“Oh, I see. What can I do for you?”
“Sir, I have Intel that suggests the Admiralty House is the target of a security threat,” said Mick.
“My, God. Are you serious?”
“Yes, Sir. You need to notify the President’s security detail immediately. Get him out of there ASAP.”
“I’ll get onto it. Do you have people on their way for assistance?” he asked.
“Yes, I have units on their way as we speak,” he replied, looking at Ethan, and he nodded.
“Okay, thank you for informing me,” said Joe. Then the call disconnected.
“Mr. Parsons?” There was just static. “Son of a bitch. The line’s been cut off. How long will it take you to get to Kirribilli Point?”
“Should be there in less than five minutes,” said Ethan, as he headed to the door.
“Take Diane with you. I’ll call the Prime Minister’s office. Get some Counter-Terrorism units there ASAP,” said Mick, and got onto the phone.
Meanwhile, Detectives Ethan Cooper and Diane Faulkner slipped on their jackets and were literally running for the exit.
They finally got to their car. Diane was driving, and as she pulled out of the AFP garage, Ethan flicked on the emergency sirens. This enabled them to drive faster than the speed limit.
CHAPTER 36
GENERAL STANLEY AND his team of mercenaries finally made it to Kirribilli Point.
The zodiac they were in gently pulled up alongside the Admiralty House’ private boat dock.
There were several bodyguards patrolling the dock, but they were completely unaware of the mercenaries.
They were all taken out one by one with silenced weapons. The group advanced up the cobblestone steps that led them to the front of the house. There were several more bodyguards patrolling the front porch.
As they went to withdraw their weapons, they were immediately taken down. It was dark, but with the night vision goggles, they could move freely.
One of the mercenaries took out a triggering mechanism.
He pressed the button, and within a split second, the Admiralty House fell into complete darkness.
Brendan King and his guests were in the main dining area when the power went out. They were all confused as to what was going on.
The President’s head of security came over to him with several other bodyguards. “Your Excellency. I’ve been informed there’s a security breach of the residence. We need to get you to a safe location. Please, come with me Sir,” said Jim Ross, the President’s head of security.
“What about the rest of us?” one of the guests spoke out.
“My men will assist you to the nearest exit. Please, Sir. We have to move, now!” said Jim. He grabbed hold of Brendan’s arm, and escorted him out of the room.
“Jim, what on earth is going on?” he asked, becoming concerned.
“The AFP called in a security threat. We need to get you out of here, Sir,” said Jim, as they made their way down the stairs.
The mercenaries were armed to the teeth with assault rifles and were comba
t-ready. General Stanley took the lead and they proceeded into the residence.
They smashed through one of the windows and took out a few more bodyguards.
The group of guests were screaming, and started scrambling in a panic. Some of them were shot as they attempted to leave, while others were taken hostage.
Jim and the President were already making their way down the stair case when they heard the shots. “Damn it, Sir. We need to go back up,” he said.
He then grabbed the President, and headed back the way they came.
“Who are these people, Jim?” asked Brendan, as they cautiously made their way up to the second level.
“I’m not sure, Sir. But it doesn’t look like they’re here for the shrimp,” he said. They headed down the long corridor, and were approaching the President’s office.
Detective Sergeant Diane Faulkner was driving the Range Rover Sports. They had the emergency siren going, and were speeding across the harbour bridge.
Thankfully there wasn’t much traffic on the bridge at this time of night. Just then, Ethan’s phone buzzed. “Detective Cooper,” he answered.
“Ethan, it’s Mick. I’ve just spoken with the Minister of Defence. He’s authorized a Counter-Terrorism squad to assault the Admiralty House,” said Mick.
“That’s good. How far away are the units?”
“They’re just leaving Holsworthy. They should be there in ten minutes,” said Mick.
“Copy that. We’re just crossing the bridge now, we should be there any minute,” Ethan replied.
“Good. Be careful Ethan.” Then the call disconnected. Afterwards, he took out his Glock 19 handgun and loaded it. Things were getting very real now.
There was a constant flash of gunfire within the Admiralty House. The mercenaries were engaging in a gun battle with the President’s private security.
The President was safely secured inside his private study. Jim was standing in front of the President with his gun raised and aimed at the door, waiting for the mercenaries to try and break in. “This is insane,” said Brendan, as he cowered behind Jim.
“Stay calm, Your Excellency. We’re going to get through this,” Jim replied, trying to reassure him. “I’m sure help is on the way.” He could hear more gunshots outside in the corridor.