Deadly Trust

by J J Cooper

  ‘Evasion.’

  ‘Evasion activity. Right. Why wouldn’t they mention that?’

  ‘Against the rules,’ Jay said.

  ‘You told us,’ Rod said.

  Jay smiled. ‘They have to play by the rules. Doesn’t mean I have to.’

  Both of the security guards gave a chuckle before Andy said, ‘You’re okay, Jay. I admire what you guys do. And Steve had an admiration and respect for the armed forces.’

  ‘Except when you disturb the animals,’ Rod said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Andy said. ‘Once you’ve changed, go to the cafeteria and ask the girls to cook you up whatever you want. On the house. We got a few more checks to do, then we’ll join you. Be about half an hour, then I’ll run you up to the doctor for some stitches.’

  ‘That’s very generous, gents. I truly appreciate it.’

  Both Rod and Andy gave a nod and departed.

  The mention of food reminded Jay of how long it had been since he had last eaten. Coffee would go down well too. He raised his arm and got three-quarters of the way before his shoulder tightened. Not too bad. He straightened his legs – his knees needed icepacks.

  Jo returned with a pair of khaki pants, matching button-up shirt with an Australia Zoo logo and a belt.

  She turned to go and then hesitated. Looking straight into his eyes she said, ‘My favourite uncle spent thirty-two years in the army.’ She closed in and kissed him full on the lips, held it for a few seconds, then slowly stepped back. ‘Thank you,’ she said before turning and leaving.

  Jay shook his head and wondered what had happened. From certain death to a kiss from a beautiful woman. Interesting couple of days. He gave a wry smile, changed into his new clothes and made his way to the cafeteria.

  Two bacon and egg burgers and a croissant were chased down with three strong but milky coffees. His credit card was again politely refused. Had it been accepted he would have taken a couple more croissants for the road.

  Jay had decided against calling Bill from the zoo. He knew the soldiers would spend the rest of the day hunting him before moving camp under the cover of darkness. Strategies needed to be put in place and a strict need-to-know principle applied. Already one operation had been compromised. Besides, having Bill pick him up may draw unnecessary attention to the zoo. The soldiers would likely be keeping an eye on the comings and goings throughout the day. The way Jay was dressed and the lift out of the area in an Australia Zoo vehicle should provide adequate cover. At least he hoped it would.

  After finishing his breakfast, Jay bid farewell to Rod and followed Andy to the car park. He climbed into the passenger seat of a utility featuring a decal of a large crocodile and a head shot of Steve Irwin.

  Jay had convinced Andy to take him to the nearest hospital instead of the local doctor’s surgery. Although it was about an extra thirty minutes’ driving time, Andy said he didn’t mind.

  As they left the zoo and hit the main road, Jay partially covered his face by nonchalantly propping his left elbow on to the window frame and cupping the side of his head in his hand. He paid particular attention to likely spots along the forest that could be used as observation posts by the soldiers. He noticed Andy check his mirrors in a regular fashion. Jay again admired the way the zoo staff had gone out of their way for him. Perhaps it was good karma in return for rescuing the girls from the bus.

  Andy seemed to know better than to talk about Jay’s time with the SASR. And although he didn’t know Jay wasn’t an actual ‘badged’ member – though he had worked side by side with them on many a mission – it was common knowledge that members of the SASR didn’t talk about their work outside of their tight group; not even immediate family or loved ones normally knew what they did.

  By the time they had arrived at Nambour hospital, Jay felt exhausted. He promised to keep in touch and let Andy know the results of his escape and evasion. Jay got the feeling Andy was fairly happy with his part in the evasion and that he delivered him to the next part of the journey. He probably imagined delivering Jay to a safe house run by resistance fighters.

  Jay dodged a group of smokers, some holding their IV machines. The strange sight even had him contemplating giving up for good. But the thought only reminded him of how long it had been since his last smoke. He hurried along and arrived at the emergency reception. He let an animated woman know of his injury and that he required stitches.

  She gave a giggle and asked, ‘One of the tigers get you?’

  Jay looked down at his Australia Zoo shirt and smiled before saying, ‘If only I could say that it was the case. Unfortunately, I caught my shoulder on a nail as I ducked under a fence. Seems the nail had worked its way out and had been waiting for my stupidity to come along.’

  ‘Nonsense, stupidity, love. We all have accidents every now and then.’ She pushed a clipboard forward. ‘Think you’ll be able to fill that in, love?’

  ‘Sure. Shouldn’t be a problem. Just may take a bit longer.’

  ‘I could do it for you, love.’

  ‘That’s okay.’ Jay looked around the crowded waiting area. ‘Looks like a bit of a wait anyway.’

  ‘Yes, there will be. Sorry, love. You take a seat and we’ll get to you as soon as we can. How’s the pain?’

  ‘Manageable, thank you.’ Jay paused before leaving. ‘Say, there was an accident this morning outside the zoo. Looked like an army bloke was hurt pretty bad. Is he being treated here?’

  ‘He is, love.’ She checked her Mickey Mouse watch. ‘He’s been in surgery for a while. Lost a couple of fingers, poor thing. I say he’d be out soon.’

  Yeah, poor thing, Jay thought. ‘Well, I may just go get him a card and a small gift from the zoo. That would be the right thing to do.’ He raised his good hand to his chin. ‘Yep, I’ll do that after I get stitched up.’

  ‘That is so lovely, love. I bet he’ll appreciate the gesture.’

  He sure would.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Two less than adequate instant coffees with powdered milk and ninety minutes later, Jay had received six stitches to his shoulder wound. He’d paced the waiting room, keeping the blood flowing in his legs and thought things through. He’d used a pay phone and placed a reverse charge call to his father, who’d just touched down in Sydney on his way back from the European conference. The concern from Ed Ryan was obvious as he sent a couple of agents to pick Jay up, and no doubt act as bodyguards. There was also the assurance of Federal Police action against the military personnel that had held Jay hostage. An emergency meeting with key Defence and policing leaders was called at the farm where Jay had interrogated the Major. The same two secret agents that were at the farm with Jay turned up at the hospital less than half an hour after the call.

  Navigating the maze of wards was made a whole lot easier with the Australia Zoo uniform, a stuffed koala under one arm and two secret agents as escorts. When they arrived at the Tongan’s room, one of the agents took up a position outside the door.

  The Tongan had the room to himself: the benefits of Defence health care. His injured hand hung across his chest, bandaged up to his upper arm; his three remaining iodine-stained fingers protruding. He looked to be dozing. A plate of sandwiches and a jug of water lay untouched on a tray beside the hospital bed.

  Jay recognised the morphine machine by the side of the bed. He’d used the same set-up to self-regulate the doses during his many times recovering from surgery. The machine fed small doses up through a tube and straight into the bloodstream, giving near immediate pain relief. Fortunately, or unfortunately for some, the dose was automatically regulated to ensure the patient didn’t overdo it. It also negated the need for a nurse to inject a dose every couple of hours when the patient woke in pain.

  The agent took a seat to the side of the bed while Jay ducked into the bathroom. He returned with the thick cord from a hospital robe and stood to the side of the Tongan’s good hand.

  The Tongan stirred as Jay threaded the cord around the stainless steel side of t
he bed. He slid it under the Tongan’s good wrist and IV, and threaded the knot before he got a reaction. A slight shake of the head from the Tongan. Maybe surprise at someone familiar wearing an Australia Zoo uniform, or still the after-effects of the anaesthetic. Whatever it was, Jay ensured the cord was wrapped tight and took a step back. The Tongan would figure it out soon enough. In fact it took him less than thirty seconds.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ His words came out groggily as he pushed against the restraint. Despite his size, his condition was never going to be a match against the knot.

  Jay nodded towards the agent. ‘That’s Detective Jones. And you know who I am. The police know everything and at the moment your mates are being picked up and questioned. Detective Jones and I go a way back, so he’s agreed to let me have a quick chat with you while you’re here. How’s the hand, by the way?’

  ‘I ain’t saying nothing.’

  ‘That’s what I told the Detective you would say.’ Jay stepped closer. ‘Police aren’t allowed to use coercive powers, but as you know, I’m not with the police. That rule doesn’t apply to me.’

  Jay nodded to the secret agent then looked back at the Tongan. ‘Anything you want to say to the Detective before he goes out for a coffee?’

  The Tongan looked across. ‘Where’s your badge?’

  Not an unexpected request considering the amount of police shows on television that depict a citizen’s right to see an officer’s badge. Australian secret agents always carried around Federal Police badges with their fake names for such an occasion. The agent rose slowly, dug out his badge and held it forward for the Tongan. Jay couldn’t read the name on it, so he doubted the Tongan would have been able to see it either. Without a word, the agent flipped his badge-holder shut, returned it to his pocket and walked out.

  Jay gave a smile to the Tongan and said, ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  Jay ignored the remark and waited for the door to shut before saying, ‘You get only one shot at this. Understand?’

  The Tongan fought against his restraint. ‘Undo the cord and I’ll tell you all you want to know.’

  A wry smile and a nod. ‘Good idea.’

  Jay reached for the cord, but instead of undoing the restraint, he crimped the tube feeding the morphine into the Tongan’s hand. He ripped off the small bandage covering the cannula on the back of the Tongan’s hand and withdrew the IV.

  The Tongan grimaced and clenched his fist. ‘What the fuck are you doing? You can’t take that out.’

  Jay held the small needle so the Tongan could study it. ‘This is an intravenous cannula.’ Jay remembered what it was called, but apart from the name, didn’t know too much about its specifics. He hoped the Tongan didn’t either.

  ‘Where the fuck are the nurses? Nurse!’

  Jay placed the sharp needle an inch from one of the Tongan’s eyes. ‘You’ll be blind before they arrive and I’ll be gone.’ The threat drew instant silence. Jay held the needle steady.

  The Tongan drew his head back into his pillow. The muscles in his oversized neck stretched at his skin. His breathing came in short, shallow bursts.

  Jay didn’t want to use the threat of the needle in the eye to get the information he needed. He really didn’t like the thought of poking someone in the eye with a needle.

  ‘This is an intravenous drip filled with morphine. It’s meant to be fed straight into a vein: hence the term intravenous. Now something similar is also used for an epidural during childbirth. Except that it goes straight into the spine instead of a vein. That causes partial paralysis because it doesn’t go into a vein where it is meant to go.’ Jay didn’t have a clue if what he was saying was correct – just as long as it sounded like he knew what he was talking about. The Tongan seemed to be buying it.

  ‘If you inject this type of morphine straight into an artery, it will shut down vital organs and cause permanent, major disabilities.’ The Tongan’s eyes widened. He was paying attention.

  ‘Simple. All I want to know is who is in charge? And I don’t mean the dead Major. Who was he reporting to?’

  The Tongan gave a slight shake of his head. ‘I don’t know.’

  Jay gave the needle a twist and jabbed it into the Tongan’s thick neck. He held it in place as the Tongan writhed and pushed his body upward on the bed, trying to release the needle. Jay held fast and brought the crimped tube upward so the Tongan could see it. He released two fingers off the tube, as if he was about to allow the morphine to flow.

  ‘I don’t know his name. Take the needle out! I don’t know.’

  Jay released another finger. Only his thumb and forefinger held the crimped tube. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘The Major used to work for him. Ex-army. All I know is that he’s in the security business now.’

  Jay shook his head. ‘You’ll need to do better than that. Most ex-army people work in the security game.’

  ‘No ... no. He’s not just in the industry. He runs the industry. I can’t think of his name. That’s all I know. Honest. Take the needle out, please. That’s all I know. Believe me. That’s it.’

  ‘Stop babbling.’ Jay had no doubt the Tongan was telling the truth. Under pressure situations, details such as names are difficult to recall. Time allows that memory to become clearer with more detailed questioning. He looked at the door. Time he didn’t have.

  ‘Ever seen this bloke?’

  ‘No. I have no idea what he looks like. All I know is that he started some kind of association for security groups.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘The Major made us all sign up to the association as members. The card’s in my wallet. It’s in the drawer beside you.’ The Tongan sounded desperate. His eyes moved to the desk beside the bed.

  Jay let the needle hang from the Tongan’s throat. A trickle of blood leaked from the wound. He placed his left hand around the crimped tube and fished in the drawer with his right. He removed the wallet and placed it open on the Tongan’s chest.

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Behind my army ID. Can you take the needle out now?’

  Jay ignored the question, removed the army identification card and placed it in his shirt pocket. He took out a matt black card. Written across the card in white block letters was ‘Australian Security Association Professionals’.

  ‘Clichéd acronym, don’t you think?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘ASAP. Sounds a bit wanky.’ Jay turned over the card. It had the name of the association’s president. He placed the card in his pocket, yanked the needle from the Tongan’s neck, grabbed a handful of sandwiches, and casually walked out.

  The Tongan’s cries for help could be heard as Jay passed by the nurses’ station. He looked over at the solitary nurse rising from her chair, no doubt about to race and check on the commotion. An agent stopped by to explain the situation. The Federal Police had been called and were on their way to arrest the Tongan.

  Jay took out the ASAP card and checked the name again. A name he recognised from the past.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The meeting room at the farm had been designed for practicality rather than comfort; an oval table with eight hard, plastic chairs. A video projector hung from the roof above the centre of the table and faced a white wall behind the head of the table. No books, shelves, pictures, cabinets or windows. One air-conditioning vent that probably hid a miniature camera and recording device.

  Jay sat on the far side of the room, facing the door. The Queensland Police Commissioner sat beside him, the New South Wales Police Commissioner sat opposite, and the Federal Police Chief chose a seat nearest to the door. They waited in silence as the faint sounds of an approaching helicopter floated through the door.

  ‘Sounds like they’re here,’ the New South Wales Police Commissioner said.

  Jay noticed a slight sigh from the Federal Police Chief. They’d been waiting in the room for about twenty minutes after the call had come in for the imminent arriva
l of the others.

  Less than three minutes later, Ed Ryan strode in through the door. Jay stood, moved around and shook hands with his father. He sat down before he felt obliged to shake hands with the others who walked in.

  As head of the National Secret Intelligence Service, Ed Ryan was the most senior man present. He pulled up a chair at the end of the table, beside Jay. No visible signs of the mad dash back home from the other side of the world. The Chief of Defence gave Jay a nod and took up position at the other end of the table. His Army Chief sat beside him. Jay didn’t know the last person to enter the room. The style was familiar. A look like that never changes. The same look he had seen a million times from his father and the rest of the spy community. A look of assessing everyone and everything in detail. A guarded look. Jay knew better than to introduce himself or ask who the gentleman was in the designer suit and thin spectacles. His father would introduce him when, or if, necessary.

  Ed Ryan opened the meeting. He looked towards the Federal Police Chief and said, ‘Pete, where are we at?’

  ‘With the information we received this afternoon, we immediately executed warrants on the army base where Jay claimed he was held hostage.’

  ‘Where Jay was held hostage,’ Ed said.

  The Federal Police Chief looked from Ed to Jay and back. ‘We didn’t find anything there to suggest the deaths of two people or any anthrax or evidence of blood storage or extraction.’

  ‘Guess I could have shot myself in the shoulder for good measure. What about the vehicle accident?’

  ‘There was a training accident in which one soldier lost a couple of fingers. We questioned him and confirmed that this afternoon.’

  ‘You’re shitting me?’ Jay had leaned forward in his chair, eyeing the Federal Police Chief.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jay. There was nothing there.’

  Ed Ryan put a hand on his son’s good shoulder.

  Jay caught a look from the Army Chief. A look he didn’t appreciate. The Army Chief rubbed his hand across his chin and said, ‘Sergeant Ryan. These outrageous–’