It's Personal

by Philip Bond

  The three depart, leaving only Isadora, Daryle and a security guard. Leading Daryle into an office… “Everything’s gone wonderfully. Our planning worked; all we have to do now is remove the heroin, move it to the self-storage. We’ll put the bags into my car when the security guys are eating.”

  “Perfect. Now which boxes have the drugs?”

  “I was an absolute devil to the transport people. I have the boxes over near my car.”

  “I can’t wait until this is all over and we’re free.”

  A short time later, dinner arrives, and both guards go to the kitchen to eat.

  Daryle and Isadora busy themselves, removing the drugs from the exhibit’s ten boxes with ten one-kilogram packets of pure heroin are placed into two large vinyl bags, then into Isadora’s car.

  *

  As his telephone rings, Sanders looks at the time, 8:07 pm. Seeing the call’s coming from outside the embassy, he goes formal… “Immigration desk?”

  “Those two haven’t phoned yet!” No prize in guessing the caller.

  Damage control time… “Get three good locals, I repeat, good locals! Use the train, get to Sydney; I’ll have transport, weapons and communications waiting for you at central station. Phone me back at 11 am if you’ve not heard from them.”

  *

  Isadora enters the warehouse office feeling very nervous. Looking again at the time before picking up the telephone.

  After one ring, she hears Neate’s voice… “Yes?”

  “Mister Neate?”

  “Yes?”

  “Isadora Wetherill speaking.”

  “You’re late, everything delivered?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, we’ll take over now. You and your boyfriend will get the agreed compensation.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly what you specified.”

  “Yeah?” His concern is audible.

  “The goods are not where you expect and before I tell you where, I want five million dollars, not one, but in diamonds.”

  “You two are out of your depth. You’re in the deep end now where people drown. No more fucking about, now tell me, where are the goods!”

  “You do not have any choice. I’m holding all the cards and I’m well protected. Just ask Tallboy’s insurance people supervising the airport arrival. Our demands are not negotiable; if you don’t agree, we will let it be known to the customs office where they can find your goods.”

  “You fucking idiots, what’ll that do? You’ll never be able to hide. I’ll get you and make an example of you both.”

  “Not if information’s given to the authorities in exchange for immunity. I’m hanging up now and when I phone again, the answer had better be yes or else.” Isadora quickly replaces the handset, breathing a sigh of relief.

  Neate hears the line go dead, dialling immediately… “Immigration desk?”

  “I’ve just heard from the shipping people, the game’s changed.”

  “Go on.”

  “They’re using different facilities.”

  “What’s our option?”

  “Agree to the demands, play along and as soon as we get what we want, remove unwanted baggage.”

  “I have this other thing here to take care of; can you handle that or do you need help?”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “Okay, stay on top of it, keep me posted.”

  *

  Matt looks at his orders again, this time reading aloud… “Report to Camp Lejeune, Marine Base North Carolina at 07:00 hours Monday for formal discharge.”

  The lieutenant looks at Matt’s face; rage simmers under the surface. He’s ready to explode.

  The Marine Lieutenant struggles to courage… “Sergeant, you don’t have much time. There’s a vehicle waiting to take you to RAAF Base Richmond. There you’ll connect with a US Air force transport taking you direct to California. Sergeant, I want you packed and in your dress uniform and back, here in seventeen minutes. Clear?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Returning to his room putting a fist through a wall on the way. Once in his quarters he grabs the telephone… “It’s dead. Goddamn mother fuckin’ son of a bitch.”

  Hurrying a note, he folds the paper to write Harry’s name and phone number on the outside. Maybe for the corporal on the way out.

  *

  “That is odd?” Harry hangs up the telephone

  Trevor has been yawning for the past forty minutes… “What is?”

  “Tried phoning Matt; getting a funny tone.” Looking at her watch to add… “I’m beat; I’ll try him later.”

  *

  It’s just before 9:00 pm when Trevor and Harry call it a day.

  “Want a lift home?”

  “No, I’ll take the courier vehicle.”

  “Have a good night sleep. Tomorrow’s another big day.”

  Continuing for a few minutes before she heads down to the car park.

  There’s no moon tonight, the car park lighting struggles illuminating.

  Inserting the key in the ignition, firing the engine, turning on the headlights, she’s about to fasten the seatbelt.

  Both the driver and passenger doors open, the interior light comes on; a foul-smelling cloth’s clamp over her mouth; finding it difficult to breath, she loses consciousness.

  Bundled into a van, one assailant drives, the second pulls Harry’s hands behind her back binding them with plastic tape, her legs, a large piece for her mouth also and finally a hood.

  Rizzo’s first… “Went down smoothly, now carefully out to the Cotter Road.”

  As they pass through the University underpass, Harry stirs.

  “Rizzo, she’s comin’ to. She’s secure?”

  “Sure is, it won’t be a problem. She’ll stay put until we get to the safe-house.”

  Luke maintains a steady continuous pace within the speed limit toward the Tuggeranong Parkway. They’re on a long slow left-hand curve when Rizzo again turns to check the back of the van. She’s not moving.

  Turns back to see a police car parked on the side of the road, with lights flashing.

  “Trouble, Luke?”

  “There’s only two of ’em. We can handle it. Just a highway patrol doing random breath-testing, stay loose, let me handle it.”

  Rizzo positions the shotgun between the seats. Luke loosens the gun in his shoulder holster.

  A police officer stands in the road waving an illuminated baton, indicating the van to pull over.

  Harry is able to comprehend more by this time, hearing voices.

  The van stops moving.

  Two police officers start towards the van.

  One police officer stops at the driver’s door with the other walking behind.

  “Good evening driver, we’re conducting a random breath testing and I require you to,” seizing her chance, Harry kicks the door as hard as she can.

  The police officer stops in mid-sentence as Rizzo spins around, seeing Harry continuing kicking the door. Luke’s left hand moves slowly towards his shoulder holster. Rizzo sees the second police officer step back and to his right as Harry continues kicking. The first police officer also steps back from the van.

  Luke pulls his weapon, firing twice at the head of the first officer. Rizzo’s cued, one hand on the shotgun, the other opening the door ready to exit the van. Officer Bevan draws his weapon firing twice at Rizzo. Luke is about to open the door as Bevan’s third and fourth shots splinter Luke’s head killing him instantly. Officer Bevan moves cautiously back towards the police car. While still covering the van, he reaches for the portable radio sitting on the police car bonnet. Maintaining composure… “Radio this is Kilo 52, shots fired, officer down, need ambulance and backup, urgent, two assailants, one dead the second wounded maybe dead, possibly more in vehicle. Urgent.”

  Officer Bevan places the radio into his belt pouch as a response comes back. He carefully moves towards the driver’s side.

  Harry kicks the door again, trying to cry out.

/>   The kicking startles Officer Bevan.

  Not knowing what to expect, he moves cautiously toward his partner lying on the ground. Officer Bevan trains his gun on the driver’s door. Grabbing the handle, he opens and steps back as Luke’s lifeless body falls from the driver’s seat. He sees through the vehicle to the outline of Rizzo’s still body on the ground opposite.

  Harry kicks again crying the muffled… “Help!”

  Distant sirens wail as Officer Bevan moves around the back to secure the van. With one hand pressing the button to unlock the door, he steps aside and lifts the door. Slowly at first, then with all his strength, throws the door up. Harry still has the hood over her head. Fear of the unknown causes alarm and with the noises, she thinks the worst… “Please someone help me?”

  Approaching headlights illuminate the van interior and a bound and hooded female. As Officer Bevan releases Harry, seven police cars arrive from different directions. Lights dazzle as the hood is removed… “You’re okay now?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Who are you and what happened?”

  “Harry Reisner.” Adrenalin floods her brain… “Getting into my car at the television station, I’m grabbed and something’s stuffed in my face. The next thing I know, I’m bound and blind folded obviously in this van.”

  High ratings provide some advantages… “Weren’t you involved in something some weeks ago?”

  “Yes, with my news crew, coming back from Newcastle. We were run off the road.”

  Events catch up as Harry goes weak at the knees requiring support… “You okay?” He barks into his microphone… “Radio this is Kilo 52, urgent ambulance needed this location, victim possibly going into shock.”

  The first assisting police officers assess the situation before summoning the watch commander… “I’m on my way. Make sure no one touches anything and keep the woman at the scene.”

  *

  Within eleven minutes, Commander Wes Ryan arrives. Ordering preliminary statements from all officers, allowing the forensic section to take charge of the crime scene. Closing the parkway, he orders all unnecessary vehicles back five hundred meters; special lighting is erected; a tent positioned over Officer Dwyer’s body. Wes receives a situation report from a senior officer. Neither assailant carries identification; both wear gloves, which remain.

  The Commander turns to Officer Bevan… “Officer, you shoot well. In retrospect, it’s a pity we can’t interrogate either assailant.”

  “In the heat of the moment sir, I didn’t consider shooting to wound. I see my partner go down, shots firing, the situation’s hot.”

  “Don’t get me wrong; under the circumstances, I commend your actions. Now, I have to find out why. I want you down to city station and write your statement.”

  Other officer checking the van calls… “Sir, I’ve found a weapon.”

  Wes hurries over. The Officer shines his torch on the weapon… “What is it?”

  Officer Bevan hears the discussion and walks over to the van… “Sir, it’s a Glock.”

  In the background, Forensic experts begin their meticulous investigations.

  “Christ!” Wes confronts the enormity… “What do we have? Where’s Harry Reisner?”

  “In the back of the ambulance.”

  Opening the door, Harry’s lying on a stretcher… “Miss Reisner, we meet again.”

  “Yes.”

  “May I call you Harry?”

  “I’d be happier if you did.”

  “Harry,” now the formalities… “I’m the commander and this incident is my investigation.”

  She is still shaking from events… “They were going to kill me, weren’t they?”

  “Maybe, let’s get out of here and to somewhere comfortable.”

  “Somewhere safe?”

  “I’m thinking the city police station.”

  “Can you guarantee my safety there?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Wes, it’s my guess these guys are possibly, the same guys who ran me and my crew off the Newcastle Freeway. If I’m right, and they find out they missed the second, I don’t want a third.”

  “Assuming you’re right and they’re the same, if you notice closely, they’re dead, they cannot hurt you anymore.”

  “Yes, but the person who sent them isn’t. He wanted the second attempt, why not think third time lucky?”

  “Let’s just think it through. Again, assuming these are the same criminals, they would have been used because they are the best available. It comes back to the fact that they’re dead and you are alive. If the third-time-lucky idea is to work, you can’t bring in second best and expect a better result, can you?”

  “Nice theory, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one they are after and Wes, I’m scared.”

  “No, I’ve not forgotten and that is why I’ve made arrangements for your protection, somewhere safe. We leave shortly.”

  *

  A media gaggle gathers at the assembly point five hundred metres down the parkway. Wes issues an order to a police officer… “No one speaks to the press about this, ONLY ME!”

  The assistant responds… “Rumours are spreading like wildfire, mostly that Harry Reisner is shot dead by an assailant.”

  "Okay, let’s leave that running for the present, it’ll give us time to assess and later, correct it.

  “Drive the ambulance,” Wes instructs… “Towards the hospital. We’ll transfer to an unmarked police car along the way, and you continue onto the hospital.”

  Harry didn’t get to sleep until after one thirty the next morning.

  Safe and Sound

  Situated in the lee of the Blue Mountains, the air base is the Royal Australian Air Force’s link to the metropolitan Sydney basin, driving from Canberra takes just on four hours. The night is still. Street lighting mark outer suburban limits, the only other vehicle on the journey is a highway patrol hot rod hoping to snare the errant driver.

  The embassy driver delivers Matt to the duty liaison officer… “Flight lieutenant, can I use a telephone?” Activity on the base mirrors the suburban surrounds.

  No one moves except the lone officer… “What’s the number?”

  “It’s a cellphone.”

  “Sorry, sergeant, local numbers only. Phones here are restricted to local only.”

  “You can wait in the mess hall, there’s a payphone you can use. They start breakfast in two hours, your flight won’t be here for another five hours.”

  Although the lights are on, the mess is deserted. Matt finds the payphone, picks up the handset… “No dial tone! Goddamn it nothing’s workin’.” He storms off maybe there’s another.

  The sun’s about to rise and street lights still glow across the Sydney basin. Wearing his dress blues, Matt’s presence in the deserted airbase attracts attention… “Sergeant, why are you walking around here, isn’t there something for you to do?”

  It’s a squadron leader, no less… “Sir, I’m waitin’ for my ride stateside, I really need to make a phone call. My transfer orders didn’t give a chance before leavin’ the embassy and sir, it’s real important.”

  “The military does not make allowances for personal relationships, no matter if you’re Australian or American. I’m guessing, as you mentioned embassy, you want to make more than a local call. Follow me, sergeant.”

  “You’re perceptive, thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate it.”

  “I’m sure you do, and I know the situation, been there myself. We’ll use my office, it’s just through here.”

  Upon seeing the telephone, Matt drops his kit grabs the phone and dials. The look on his face speaks volumes as the Squadron Leader offers… “No answer? If you give me the name number and a message, I’ll make sure she gets the message.”

  “Thank you, sir, I’d appreciate it.”

  “You are welcome, sergeant.”

  The following hours pass in complete boredom until finally, Matt hears… “Okay, Sergeant, it’s time
to go, grab your kit and follow me.”

  *

  The clock reads 11:28 and the morning warms. Harry opens her eyes. Previous night’s events are still fresh although, forgetting where she is… “Oh yes, I am here.” Jolting upright.

  Placing feet on the floor, she stands.

  It’s an old house, a bare board country style. All the bedroom furniture is stained timber, the floors have a modest sprinkling of mats and rugs. Harry remembers the instruction from last night, ‘Your door opens onto a hallway that leads down to the kitchen, bathroom and toilet’ it’s time to go potty. The hallway is also a polished floorboard with a long rug in the centre running almost the length of the hallway.

  Halfway down, Wes puts his head out from the kitchen… “Morning, Harry, how do you feel?”

  “I’m fine, thank you, need the toilet.”

  “That’s right through there.” Pointing.

  Minutes later Harry emerges into the kitchen… “It didn’t take me long to get to sleep last night. I slept soundly.” She lies, her sleep was disturbed, not that she’s going to tell anyone.

  “Good.” Turning to the other person present… “This is Andrea Cremen, she’ll be with us for a while, working through what’s transpired. Also, there’re three others, one in the front room one in the shed and one outside.”

  “Too late for breakfast?”

  “Definitely not. Tell me what you want and it’s yours; I’m a good cook.”

  “Eggs scrambled, please. What’s the news coverage been?” Seeing a newspaper, beginning with the headlines… “Four killed in wild shootout. Unconfirmed reports suggest Harry Reisner is travelling in a van involved in the incident on a Canberra freeway last night. Commander Wes Ryan told the media that one highway patrol officer plus both assailants are killed during a shootout at a routine random breath testing station on the Tuggeranong Parkway. Police refuse to identify the fourth victim.”

  Turning to Wes, she asks… “Wes, what is the name of the dead officer?”

  “Constable Michael Dwyer, twenty-six. Married, no children.”

  “The officer who saved me?”