by J A Scooter
When Peter arrived to open the workshop, he considered it strange that one of the security guards was standing at the shutters, but perhaps he was suspicious after the happenings of the previous night. He was even more mistrustful when he saw a black Mercedes parked up the road.
"Open up.” Peter sounded happy. The guard seemed to hesitate until Peter added, "I've left my keys behind.” He backed his car away from the driveway.
What happened next was unbelievable.
A sudden blast reverberated in Peter's ears as a fireball belched from the workshop through the half-opened shutters. A scream tore at the guard's throat. The crash of his body through the shop front across the road cut short his shriek.
The force of the eruption hurled Peter's car into the air and onto its side. Bleeding, Peter lay stunned covered in glass from the shattered windscreen and windows.
The sudden roar of flames broke the silence following the blast. Hammered into Peter's brain was the screech of tires, as the black Mercedes fled.
Peter couldn't believe the hell that had broken out around him
Then he could hear the harsh scream of sirens - more and more sirens as he struggled free of his car. On his feet but dazed, he charged toward the main office door that opened from the street.
Breaking into the building, he played the office fire extinguisher over the seat of the fire until fire officers shouldered him away.
Ambulances joined the melee and the paramedics would not let Peter do a thing until they had checked him all over and had attended to his cuts, staunching the bleeding.
Police, firemen and reporters all fought to interview Peter who watched as more paramedics recovered the remains of the guard from the shop front opposite.
It wasn't until Joe and the workers arrived minutes later and commenced to clean up that Peter's thoughts turned to Jennifer.
He went next door to Bill's office to call Jennifer's Personal Assistant.
"There's been an explosion at the workshop, please tell Jennifer I'm safe."
Jennifer's P.A. took the message. "I will when I see her, Peter, but I'm afraid she didn't come into the office and didn't make her scheduled staff meeting appearance,” was the brief reply. "I've tried ringing her but no answer. Is she okay? Are you okay?"
Peter sagged, and again those comments of the wise man of the East cut through his consciousness. 'The gods demand a payment and a harsh payment it will be.'
"Joe,” Peter sounded distant. "Jennifer's missing and I'm very worried and frightened. Put someone in charge and drive with me. I need you to keep me sane."
The police blocked their exit.
"Forensic have discovered that this was no accidental explosion. Someone flagrantly tampered with the shutters so that whoever unlocked and began to open up would die. Have you any enemies Mr. O'Brien? Have there been an extortion demands."
Eventually, their enquiries satisfied the police officers left. With Joe driving, Peter set off in search of Jennifer. They headed for the apartment, as that was the last place Peter had seen his wife.
On the bed at their apartment, Peter found Jennifer's beautiful dark gold dress displayed on the bed. Lying on top of the gown was a note.
'Peter my love. You looked after me when I was drunk.
Now we're even. I love you more and more each day.
'Tonight, just for you,
I will dress in these clothes that I wore last night and you can...
I can't continue as I'm blushing as I write.
Be home early.
I want a long, long night with my husband, my lover, my heart.’
Peter reddened as he felt Joe's arm across his shoulders.
"That wife of yours sure does love you boss,” Joe said. Obviously he'd also read the note.
Leaving the apartment, they followed the route Jennifer would have taken to work until suddenly Peter shouted, "Stop! Drive up that alley."
A quick U-turn and a right turn took them into the alley where they pulled up behind Jennifer's car. It was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. Peter glanced around trying to make some sense of the conundrum.
A street person rose from the gutter across the alley and slowly approached them. Peering at them through bleary, blood-shot eyes and breathing alcoholic fumes he croaked, "I was ordered to give you these two messages. 'Next time it's you. The tart will die if you try to find her.'” He shuffled off.
Growling, Joe steadied Peter. "They definitely want a bloody fight, and now the bastards have got one. This is one they won't win.” Then he broke into a long string of Italian curses.
He helped Peter walk across the road to the Post Office where Peter made the first of two overseas phone calls in languages that Joe couldn't recognize.
His third call didn't surprise Joe at all. "Elizabeth, ask Andrew to go to a public phone in Melbourne and ring...” and he gave the phone number of the BMW Dealer. "Tell him to ask for Bill if it's in business hours. If out of hours, I'll be there."
He listened to Elizabeth for a minute.
"Yes, big things are developing here so I need Andrew. Yes, I'm okay - there's been an explosion at the workshop but I'm safe. Yes, Jennifer is well. I must rush, as the Police are thoroughly investigating the incident. Tell Andrew to ring."
He paused while Elizabeth repeated the phone number. "It's most important,” he confirmed. "We'll be down next weekend. I must rush - bye!"
With a sinking feeling and showing extreme distress, Peter drove the Mini home.
Joe took him to the workshop where the firemen and the staff were still cleaning up.
In spite of his fury, Peter said nothing to anyone but made his way straight to Bill's office next door where he locked the door once Joe and Susie joined them.
"I believe Jennifer's been kidnapped and I'm waiting for a ransom demand.” Peter was frank to the point of being brutal.
Ignoring their questions he continued, explaining how he feared that there could be worse in store as he outlined what Dingo had said about Jennifer, and the happenings of the previous night. He sagged into a seat and wept as he cursed himself for his own stupidity.
"Why didn't I tell her to be on guard? Why didn't I tell her of my suspicions? Why didn't ..."
Susie's rush to cradle her friend in her arms stopped his self-recriminations. Holding him at arm's length, she softly told him to stop his nonsense and to pull himself together. "You aren't alone. We're in this together."
Peter hugged her. "All right, you say you're in this fight with me. Susie your priority is your baby, and I guarantee that my guards will be constantly with you to keep the two of you safe from these imbeciles, whoever they are.
"However, I must warn you it will be a fierce fight to the death. In Ancient Sparta, the women sent their men folk off to battle with the words, 'Return with your shield or upon it.' A Spartan mother wished her son to return from war either victorious carrying his shield, or being carried upon it after falling in battle.
"My pledge to you for this battle is that I will return carrying my shield.
"Obviously, I can't add much more except to say that Andrew will be ringing here tonight.
"Bill, can you get six scramblers so phone calls can't be intercepted?
"Next, I'm about to replace the security guards as that explosion couldn't have happened without the connivance of the security and I want 100% loyalty from everyone, or else their resignations."
"The one weak link in our chain is dead,” Bill remarked with a grim voice. "I was coming to see you this week about the guard who was killed as I believed he wasn't pulling his weight and was up to no good.
"He was deeply in debt and involved in some shady deals. I was going to ask you to sack him but he left our service prematurely.” Bill's chuckle was almost evil.
A council of war followed between Joe, Bill, Susie and Peter.
Joe pointed out that they could not inform anyone other than Mark of what was happening. It was imperative that Mark, who took most o
f the phone calls, knew what was happening.
Everyone agreed that Joe tell Mark as little as possible but to insist that he handle unusual calls correctly.
During the discussion, Peter requested that they help in providing cars from among the trade-ins, food for his workshop apartment and a steady stockpile of clean clothes.
"No expense is to be spared. You have unlimited credit and you may use petty cash from the workshop to pay for everything. We inform Mark and no one else of the events - especially the police."
He insisted on their support whenever requested without asking any questions or expecting any answers. "A lot of people will die over this affair and I don't propose to be one of them, nor Jennifer nor any of you."
"No questions no pack drills - agreed? I'll advise Andrew to arrive tomorrow with some of my Gurkha friends. However, I want no one else, not even Ted or Bob, to know what's happened or to become involved.
"Jennifer's on the farm if anyone outside this room asks, and I'm flat out organizing the Sydney end of water harvesting schemes.
"Remember, if we're to rescue Jennifer safely we mustn't mention a word outside this room. No phone calls out until the scramblers are in place, and definitely no phone calls to me without using the scrambler. You are to give me any special messages in person. We don't know how good the enemies' spy system is and we certainly don't need to warn them.
"We can't, with any degree of certainty, identify the enemy at this stage. I have my suspicions but nothing definite and we can't act on suspicions."
Peter got to his feet and prepared to leave.
"Now let's just go about our business as normal. I'll be in the workshop until the end of the day and when it's time to close I'll come in here ready for Andrew's call. War has been officially declared, and we will win!"
The workshop had looked worse but Peter couldn't remember when.
Insurance assessors had called and their business cards were on the office table with formal requests for Peter to call.
Joe openly spoke with all the workers, demanding that they allow no stranger in the workshop under any circumstances. They were to call Peter, Bill next door, security or him if anything strange aroused their suspicions, no matter how trivial.
Later Joe spoke of his own plans to Peter, privately. "I'll inform some friends of mine.” Peter's glare interrupted him. "No, Peter! Do you think I'm an idiot?"
Joe was quick to reassure Peter. "I'll make no direct reference to Jennifer or about our troubles, not even to my wife, but I'll be stating that Dingo's possibly stepped out of line and requesting them to keep me up-to-date with his movements or anything unusual brewing on that front.
"All conversation will be in my village dialect. No necessity for a scrambler there.” He laughed, despite the seriousness of the situation. Joe reveled in his newfound expertise.
Police came and left.
Ted and Bob came, firing many questions, and left when no conclusive answers were forthcoming. Feeling the tension, but reading Peter's body language, they knew it was best not to pursue their worries.
Ted was particularly satisfied that finance was not the cause of the tension as insurance covered the explosion and resulting damage.
Firemen came and went and reporters seemed to camp on the doorstep demanding exclusive interviews.
The day rushed by with still no word from Andrew.
It was late that night when Peter was lying almost comatose on the floor of Bill's office. The jangle of the phone cut into the black hole that was Peter's mind.
"Andrew? Where are you ringing from?” Peter paused while Andrew explained.
"Good! Now listen and don't interrupt. Jennifer's gone missing and I believe someone has kidnapped her. Return to the farm and hitch the cattle trailer to the Mac. Tell the Regimental Sergeant Major I need eight men here urgently and they are to come armed. Their arms will be carried in the company semi-trailer and a couple of them are to travel with you - the others will come in company cars and bring the coach as well."
The distraught tone of Peter's voice told Andrew how distressed he was. Ignoring Andrew's need to ask more questions, Peter rattled on.
"Yes, tell your parents about Jennifer and tell them if they want to see Jennifer alive not to ring me. We'll keep them informed using someone delegated by the RSM. If anyone asks, your parents are to say Jennifer is out riding horses and they cannot contact her. Make any excuse at all."
"The RSM is to organize boundary patrols and security for all the personnel of Blake Pastoral. One person is to operate the phone at the hospital, 24/7. Conversation is not to be in English. The property is to be locked down!
He heard Andrew's query. "Yes, that's right. Conversation is not to be in English."
"I may be panicking but neither of your parents is to leave the farm without an armed Gurkha escort.
"Now get back home but don't bust yourself.
"On the way here allow the Gurkhas to drive as well. Feed them well. What's that?"
Peter listened to Andrew for a moment.
"Yes, indeed, The Little One has been invited to this party although the ones who started this party do not know it! The Little One is alive and kicking. Say that again!” Peter started to laugh.
"You feel sorry for the poor bastards. They'll never know what hit them! You don't know how right you are.
"Bring my altar and the plaque from my office please, so I don't feel naked. In addition, my attaché case - I believe you know the one. Now go, there's a lot about to happen. See you soon."
As an afterthought he added, "By the way, come up the Olympic way. Take your time and get one of the Gurkhas to ring me when you're at Bathurst. Go to a pub and ring and don't any of you start drinking."
Andrew was enraged at the peals of loud laughter that came through the phone. He failed to understand how this man could laugh when his wife, Andrew's sister, was in such danger.
Still the orders continued. "Don't leave Bathurst until that Gurkha speaks with me. Now go. May your God travel with you ! Don't forget, ring me from Bathurst and bring the RSM."
Abruptly the long phone call ended.
WEEK 1
That Fateful Tuesday
Late the next day Mark, the bookkeeper, called Peter to the phone. Neither Joe nor Mark understood the conversation as Peter explained in Nepali the next steps the Melbourne team was to take.
"You're to leave the truck in Bathurst and fly to Sydney while one of the group, not Andrew, is to drive the car to the workshop. The car will escort the coach. Wait, Joe my foreman will tell you where to leave the truck in Bathurst."
Peter handed the phone to Joe . "Give them directions. The trucking yard would be excellent."
Speaking slowly and distinctly, much to Peter's amusement, Joe gave the necessary directions. When the call ended, he immediately rang the yard boss in Bathurst.
The soft intonation and the rolling 'r' of Italian were enough to show Peter that Joe was organizing Bathurst.
With the first of the arrangements completed, Peter walked to the Motel where his request to use her phone surprised Susie but her hug told Peter that his friends were just as worried as he was.
He chartered a plane. The pilot was to collect a party of eight with their luggage at Bathurst airport.
When he returned to the workshop office, Joe and Mark were waiting expectantly for him. They made him sit before handing over a small box that a courier had just delivered.
Slowly, with a sinking heart, Peter opened it, dreading the moment when he could see the contents.
Inside was some of Jennifer's hair. Taped to a sheet of paper were her wedding ring and engagement ring. On the paper was a clear communication in flowery script.
'Big Red, our new pony, did not take any training at all once she had tasted our riding crop. Really, she is a good ride and has no further need of these useless bits of ornamentation!'
It was unsigned.
Peter's chair crashed back against the wall as he
hurled himself to his feet, and the solid office table shook as his fist hammered down to crush the box that had contained the message.
Both Joe and Mark recoiled from the anger blazing from his eyes.
"They are dead men and so is the Thai who wrote this."
He answered the inquisitive stares of his friends with a venomous snarl. "This was written by a Thai - I recognize the letter formation which is peculiar to Thais.
"Bloody hell, that bastard Dingo and his followers are so stupid. I warned them and they ignored my words. That gang, including Pretty Boy, is ignorant.” and his voice tailed off in a long list of expletives. "They are so confident of their own smartness.” His swearing would have made a bullock driver proud. "They can run but the bastards can't hide! Vengeance is mine and a reasonable payment for their stupidity will be their lives."
Lovingly, he lifted the two rings to his lips and kissed them. He stared at them for a long time before scooping the hair up to his nose. Washing the lock in his tears, he inhaled her fragrance. Peter carefully placed her hair, her rings wrapped in the paper and the note in an envelope which he then locked in the office safe.
Suddenly the phone rang and Mark answered then handed it to Joe who quickly broke into Italian. The conversation was brief.
When the call finished Joe translated. "Our favorite black Mercedes collected two Arabs - renowned horse breeders and traders in female flesh - from the International Terminal. The car took them to a mansion in Hunters Hill where the Arabs are obviously guests. You'll never miss them as they're dressed in traditional Arab white clothing with the usual headpiece.
"Their photos will be in tomorrow's sporting section as they're here to collect a special mare."
Peter's harsh snarl cut across Joe's translation. "I hope they enjoyed their trip to Sydney as I am afraid they will be collecting no mare. In fact, they have sealed their death warrants. They have come a long way to meet the Angel of Death.” A bitter, angry outburst of hate colored his voice.
Joe and Mark were startled at the change in Peter but they could only nod in agreement.
"Thank your friends, Joe."
"No need for thanks Boss,” answered Joe. "You'd be surprised how many taxis followed that car and are now in Hunter's Hill waiting for fares."