by Bruce Cooke
She smiled. “I do, but the rent is exorbitant.”
“I see. I don’t have much money, but I’m willing to work for it.”
“Perhaps we can come to some arrangement. I require a deposit. Now kiss me, you fool.”
He stepped inside and took her in his arms and found her lips.
“I’ve missed you,” she said softly.
“I’ve only been missing for two weeks.”
“It felt like two years. Better have some dinner. I’m about to cook something.”
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Like a chef. I’ll do the dinner, and you can supply the dessert.”
He gave her a grin. “Deal.”
After dinner, he took her hand. “Better show me the sleeping arrangements. Do you fancy some dessert?”
She smiled at him. “I thought you would never ask.”
He closed the bedroom door and took her in his arms again. Soon, clothes were on the floor and both naked bodies filled the bed. The passionate love was unbelievable as far as Pipa was concerned. Later, she lay back alongside him.
“Like I said the rent is exorbitant.”
“I think I can afford it.”
They enjoyed their closeness.
“So you have sold the garage?”
“Yeah, but I have to wait ninety days before its official. I closed it up and came here.”
“So what are you going to do for a living, or are you going to sponge off me forever?”
“I still get an Army pension, and I might use my skills to generate a job of some sort. Any ideas?”
She touched her chin with her finger. “Let me think about it for a while. Still no sign of Pallister.”
“He might be in some other country by now. He’s out of our hair anyway.”
“It seems a shame he got away with it.” Pipa twirled her finger across his chest.
“Yeah, but maybe justice will catch him up one day.”
She sat up suddenly. “Look, you are a very clever man and very experienced. Have you given any thought of joining the police force?”
He laughed. “Yeah, that would give Greg a chance to put a bullet into me.”
“I meant the local police, stupid, and he wouldn’t do that.”
“I’ll give it some thought. Right now, I have other things on my mind.”
He grabbed her again, and she giggled.
“You’re insatiable.”
“I’m out of practice. I need the exercise.”
“As long as I am the teacher then I agree.”
She responded to his touch and lay back, enjoying another bout of lovemaking.
* * * *
Later, Scott got out of bed and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. He left the light off and glanced out of the window. What he saw made him gasp. A dark coloured car had been parked, and two men stepped out both holding guns.
“Shit,” he said and ran into the bedroom. “Quick, Pipa, get some clothes on. Hurry.”
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s two thugs outside holding guns. We have to get out of here.”
She threw some clothes on in a hurry and took his hand.
“I don’t suppose you have a gun here?”
“I’m a reporter.”
“Anything I can use as a weapon?”
“I used to play softball when I was eighteen. I think my old softball bat is in the linen closet.”
He opened the closet door and saw the bat in the corner. Both heard the door being opened. Obviously, the thugs had picked the lock as silently as they could. Scott pushed her into the closet and stood with the bat raised. The man crept along in the dark, holding his gun ahead of him. When he reached the closet, Scott opened the door and brought the bat down on his arm as hard as he could. He heard the arm snap, and a howl escaped from the man’s mouth. He dropped the gun, and Scott quickly picked it up. The man turned and ran for the open front door with the other man alongside him. Both jumped into their car and sped off.
“Who were they?” asked Pipa, still scared.
“Don’t know, but I can guess. Pallister might be seeking revenge.”
Pipa was horrified. “God, what will we do?”
In a calm manner, he turned to her. “Fancy a little trip to a small town?”
“You mean Mansfield?”
“Yeah. The house is still mine for the next three months. Could be safer.”
“I’ll pack some things,” she said quickly. “I feel safer when you’re around.”
“Let’s go,” he said.
Together they climbed into his car and took off.
“Better ring your boss once we get there. He will have to know what’s happened.”
“What about the police?” Pipa asked.
“Pallister may still have a few contacts with corrupt cops. Better keep this quiet for a while.”
“It will be four when we get there.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “And I only have a queen-sized bed.”
She punched him on the arm. “Is that all you ever think about?”
“Only when I’m near you.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand as he drove.
* * * *
Next morning, Pipa rang Fred. “Won’t be in for a few days, Fred.”
“Are you sick?” He sounded concerned.
“No. Scott and I had a couple of visitors, both armed. Scott disarmed one, and they ran off. We think it may have been Pallister after us for revenge.”
“Shit, where are you?”
“Better not tell you that. Scott thinks there may still be a few corrupt cops around. It’s safer to stay here for a while.”
“Do you want me to contact the cops?” Fred asked.
“Not yet. I feel safe when Scott is around.”
“You really care about him, don’t you?”
“I really do. Never been happier except for this shit.”
“Okay, keep in touch. If you need anything, you know where to come.”
“Thanks, Fred. Love you.” She closed off her mobile and turned to Scott. “Okay, smarty pants. What happens now?”
“I make a few preparations in case Pallister finds out where we are.”
“What sort of preparations?”
“We go to the supermarket to buy some stuff. I’ll show you how to make a bomb.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very,” Scott said. “Have to be prepared.”
“At the supermarket?”
“Making a bomb is easy if you know what sort of ingredients to use. Most can be bought in the supermarket. Civilians have no idea what you can do.”
She shook her head. “Remind me never to upset you.”
“It’s all the training I did with the SAS. We learnt things you would never suspect.”
“I’ll stick to reporting.”
They went into Mansfield, and Scott bought what he needed. He even went to a plumbing store and bought some metal items that he could use as the casing for the bombs.
“I need some cotton string,” he said and put a roll into his basket.
Pipa looked amazed at the assortment of common stuff he bought. At last, he had everything he needed, and they returned to his home.
“You’re not going to blow the place up, are you?”
He grinned. “Watch and learn.”
She saw him mix up a concoction that included sugar. After adding his ingredients, he cut the cotton yarn into strips and soaked them in the mixture. He then placed them on a tray and put it in the oven. After half an hour, he removed the tray and let the cotton yarn cool. When it had cooled, he cut off a small strip of the now stiff yarn and lit the end. Pipa watched as it slowly burnt the length.
“It’s a fuse,” she said.
“Now I can make the bombs.”
The plumbing material he bought included small lengths of steel pipe threaded at each end. He fitted a cap to each end and drilled a hole in one end. She watched as he placed a
small piece of cotton yarn in the hole and saw him light it. Scott timed it to see how long it took to burn down.
“Okay, I’ll fill the ingredients for the bombs and fit the fuses. That should be right to go.”
“Is all this necessary?” asked Pipa, shaking her head.
“I hope not, but you have to be prepared for anything.”
“And you have a weapon?” This was getting out of hand as far as she could see.
“One hunting rifle that hasn’t been used since I came back from the Army. Never go hunting, and the handgun I took from our visitor.”
“You mean anyone can make a bomb like this? That’s terrifying.” Her mouth dropped open.
“Unfortunately, they use the Internet. Only a terrorist would make one.”
“Any other preparations?” she asked.
“Yeah. Have you ever been camping in the mountains?”
“Only in Afghanistan. Does that count?”
“No desert here, but it can get cold.”
Pipa shook her head. “God, what have I got myself into?”
Pipa was amazed at what this man could do. He was no ordinary civilian, and she was glad he was there to protect her. When he was finished, he lay everything out on the floor. The bombs, the weapons, plenty of ammunition, camping gear, food, blankets, and a few other things such as a cigarette lighter, even though he didn’t smoke. He packed most of them into a small canvas backpack, including the bombs.
“What now?” she asked, seeing the satisfied look on his face.
“I need to go back into town and see a few people.”
“Why?” He continued to mystify her.
“Try and get a first warning sign.”
She went with him as he moved to a few shops and spoke to some of his friends. Most gave him a warm greeting as they had all seen and read about his innocence.
One such friend, Terry Handcock, welcomed him warmly. “Scott, great to see you again, mate.”
“I’m after a favour, Terry.”
“Sure, if I can help.”
“There are still some bad people out there looking for me. If anyone asks around about where I live, can you give me a ring and warn me?”
“Sure. I’ll plead innocence and have never heard of you.”
“Thank, mate. I appreciate that. I have a lady to protect.”
Terry looked at Pipa and grinned. “Half your luck. She’s gorgeous.”
An hour later, he had seen several of his friends, so they returned to his home.
Chapter 20
Pallister swore when his two men returned, one with a broken arm. “Can’t you two idiots do anything right?”
“He ambushed us. He was waiting with a big bat.”
Pallister turned to the injured man. “Get to the hospital and tell them you tripped down some steps. Nothing else. Then get back here. I need a few more reinforcements.”
When the men left, he went to his computer and typed in Scott Peters. What came up was the newspaper reports first saying he was a cold-blooded killer then reports from the police that he was proved entirely innocent. He read Scott’s background and saw he lived in a small country town in Victoria called Mansfield. No address, only the town. He turned off the computer and made a few phone calls. He now knew Peters was a dangerous man, and he needed at least eight men to do the job.
* * * *
Three days later, Terry Handcock was serving a customer in his delicatessen when two men entered. Terry looked out of his window to see two cars parked. One held four men and the other two. It immediately aroused his suspicion.
“Can I help you, mate?” he asked, giving a pleasant smile.
One was a big man, who had a three-day growth on his chin and wore a deep scowl. No pleasantries. “I’m looking for a friend who lives here.”
“A friend? Well, I don’t know everyone in Mansfield, but I do know most of my customers. Who is you friend?”
“His name is Scott Peters.”
“Oh, of course. I know Scotty. Short fat guy about sixty. Has a big moustache.”
“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“No? Of course, I’m getting confused. I’m talking about Angus McGregor. They call him Scotty because he’s a Scotsman.”
The men looked at each other then back to Terry.
“I have a photo.” He handed a photo of Scott across.
Terry peered at it. “I know that face. Isn’t he the one who was blamed for some sort of assassination? It was all over the news.”
“Yes. Do you know where he lives?”
Terry rubbed his chin. “I think he lives on a small farm about eight Ks from Mansfield.” Terry pointed in the opposite direction to where Scott lived. “It’s painted red and has a big barn visible from the road. No other house close by.”
The men smiled at each other and left the shop. As soon as they left, Terry picked up his phone.
Scott answered straight away.
“It’s Terry. I think your friends have arrived. There’s eight of them in two cars.”
“Thanks, Terry. How long?”
“I told them I wasn’t sure if I knew you but directed them in the opposite direction to the Murphy farm. Could be fifteen minutes or more.”
“I might be away for a few days, Terry. Thanks again.”
* * * *
Scott replaced the phone and turned to Pipa. “Time to go. That was Terry, and he said eight thugs are here looking for me.”
“Oh, God. I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. I know the National Park around Buller like the back of my hand. They probably don’t. I could hide there forever, and they won’t find me.”
“But we can’t live there forever.”
“Of course not. This will be fun again, just like Afghanistan.”
Pipa shook her head. “Afghanistan was never fun.”
“Be brave. I’ll take care of you.”
“You’d better, or I’ll never speak to you again.”
He kissed her gently and grabbed their bags. “Let’s go.”
Before leaving, he scribbled a note on a piece of paper and left it on the table.
He picked up his bag of goods, and they climbed into his car and drove off.
* * * *
The killers drove to the farm and found the owner, sixty-year-old Tom Murphy, working in the front garden. He leaned on his shovel and watched the men alight from their cars.
“Can I help you?” he asked pleasantly, but did feel a little uneasy to see eight men step out of two cars.
“Is this where Scott Peters lives?” one asked, frowning. Something was not right.
“Peters? You’ve come in the wrong direction. Scott lives on the other side of town in a small garage. His house is at the back.
“How far out of town?” No pleasantries, only a scowl and anger in his tone.
“About one K. You can’t miss it.”
Without another word, they went back to their cars and drove off.
* * * *
The garage came up, and the men grabbed their guns and ran to the entrance.
“Go around the back,” the leader said, motioning with his gun. He waited at the front and heard glass being broken.
The door was opened, and one of the men stepped aside. “It’s empty,” he said as the others rushed in.
They searched the place, and one found a piece of paper on the kitchen table. It was a note indicating the National Park with a red circle drawn around it.
“That’s where they went,” he said, scowling again.
“That’s to Mount Buller, isn’t it?”
“Jesus, how clever of you,” he said sarcastically. “Let’s move now.”
“Be careful. This guy is no fool. He wants us to come to him.”
They drove as quickly as they could and came to a parking area where Scott had left his car. It was the only car there.
* * * *
Scott and Pipa began to climb up the face of the mountain. The going was not ha
rd as it was not yet snow season. The ground was covered with gum trees and thick bush. The higher they got, the more the view improved. Soon, they had a panoramic view of the country below.
“This will do,’ said Scott, satisfied they would be out of view of the killers.
“Are you sure they will come?” asked Pipa.
“Unless they are stupid, they will. I left a note to tell them where we are.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Why would you do that?”
“If we have to fight them then I want it to be on my grounds, not theirs.”
“So what do I do?”
“Get the bombs out ready to use,” Scott said.
Scott waited with his binoculars ready for any movement below. At last, he saw two cars pull up and eight men get out, all holding guns of various sorts. Two had automatic assault rifles, while the others held handguns. He watched them start to climb the path leading to where they were hiding. Scott let them get within a hundred meters before he acted. They were directly below a steep rocky climb and would have the same difficulty he had found when he and Pipa climbed up. To Pipa’s amazement, he called out.
“Hey, guys, I suggest you all retreat and leave before some of you get hurt.”
His voice carried down and was met with some automatic gunfire.
“Last chance, guys. Better leave now.”
More fire was heard, but Scott knew they had no idea where he was. He aimed his rifle and pulled the trigger. The leading man fell backwards as the bullet hit him in the chest. More shots were fired, but none came anywhere near Scott.
He aimed again and brought a second man down. Panic set in as some scrambled to hide behind any cover they could find.
“Two down. You want some more?” Scott turned to Pipa. “Light one of the fuses and pass it over.”
She did as he asked and handed him the first bomb. He hurled it down the hill and watched as it bounced and gained speed. It had just swept passed them and exploded. Yells of terror were heard. One screamed as some of the shrapnel hit him.