Without You I Have Nothing

by J A Scooter

  First through the door was Andrew. His face was a picture of absolute despondency when he realized Jennifer wasn't there.

  "Spread out, take the keys from the goon on the floor and thoroughly search the area. Kill all males you find but bring all the women here. Hand me the bolt cutters.” Peter, who had reverted to the cold-blooded killing machine of his youth, watched the Gurkhas eagerly carrying out his instructions. First, they unsheathed their Kukris and then stealthily began the hunt.

  Devoid of emotion, Peter knew that each client in the brothel would be dead before the man even knew there was someone in the room with him. Peter listened attentively but there was nothing, just the silence of death.

  Then he heard a soft noise, distantly, down the corridor - the sound of shuffling feet. Through the door, thirty white faced, terrified and traumatized, young Asian women followed their Gurkha guards into the room.

  They watched every movement of their Gurkha escort with horror as if panicking that they would be next to die. Each was in various stages of nudity and each had a collar around her neck.

  Softly and kindly, Peter spoke to them in Mandarin, Cantonese, Thai, Malay, Tamil, Lao and then English. The message was clear. Informing them they were safe and being set free he demanded that they must forget what they had seen. He requested each one to kneel in front of him in turn. With the bolt cutters, he cut through each collar as quickly as he could although he knew he was causing them physical distress.

  Once he had removed all the collars, he sent them off to dress. When they returned to sit around him, he informed them he was holding their passports. Patiently, he explained that he knew they had been university students and understood that Dingo had kidnapped them before their studies had even started. Looking at their haunted faces, Peter perceived that they would need counseling before resuming their lives.

  "Now perhaps you can help me,” he said turning their attention to his real goal. "Where is this woman?” He pointed to Jennifer's picture with his fist.

  "We don't know,” answered a tall Thai. "But we do know that the boss's son will be brutalizing her. He calls it love but he's a pig and she'll take days to heal after he's used her. The doctor comes on Wednesday so Jennifer will be back then as she is to be prepared for a long sea trip."

  "The doctor?” Peter sounded puzzled.

  The Thai girl took his hand and led him down the corridor and into the kitchen. She swung a cupboard away from the wall and pointed to a flight of steps leading down. She shuddered and absolutely refused to lead the way downstairs.

  "Help me please Andrew,” Peter called.

  Distressed at what he believed could be happening to his sister, Andrew was at the point of exploding. He was stunned - appalled that Peter could remain so calm and so focused.

  "Steel yourself,” said Peter. "We don't know what we'll find down here.” He didn't need Andrew to do anything foolish.

  Hesitantly, the two descended and found themselves in a small operating theatre. On the walls hung pictures of before and after procedures where the doctor had inserted nipple and clit rings.

  Sickened, they returned to the main room. Peter saw the Gurkhas lined up against the wall, waiting. He noticed they had re-sheathed their Kukris and not one of them had nicked themselves.

  "Ladies, you all speak English. You're going to a motel where we've arranged to look after you. The men there will treat you with dignity. You have thrown off the mantle of this place and soon you'll return to normality. You are free!"

  "But sir, we have no money.” Still worried, the tall Thai girl interrupted. "Have we swapped one master for another?"

  The Gurkhas started laughing and the RSM stepped forward. "You know we are Gurkhas and we treat women with respect. Don't be frightened by my men or me. We would never harm you. What happened here today was repayment to people who hurt our friends. Those men deserved to die. You however have earned the right to live. This man, who has spoken, honors you all and you owe him nothing."

  Peter took over again with a huge smile making his words warmer than ever. "You needn't worry about money. Dingo has donated a large amount to your education and probably has given enough to set you up in life. Our only demand is that you forget our part in your deliverance and keep your mouths firmly shut about today."

  Eventually Joe, Andrew and two Gurkhas loaded the coach and left with the tearful girls sitting quietly, wondering where they were being taken next.

  "Come on let's explore.” Peter said, once the coach had departed.

  Leaving the remaining Gurkhas in the main room, the RSM and Peter went reconnoitering. A naked male body occupied the first room, a bedroom. The Gurkha, who had found him, had slit his throat. Then he had removed the man's penis and testicles. These, he had stuffed in the dead man's mouth. Hanging behind the door was the uniform of a very senior police officer.

  The next bedroom told the same story and it seemed as though two very senior police officers were clients of the brothel. In four other bedrooms were men who had met their fate in a similar fashion. When he completed his inspection, Peter had counted 10 bodies and held their wallets in his hands.

  Eventually, Peter and his men were standing outside a door, obviously leading to the office. It firmly refused to budge. Undeterred, the Gurkhas laughed at the futility of the locked wooden door. Three put their shoulders against the door and gave a tremendous heave. Suddenly there was a crash and the door hung uselessly on its hinges.

  Peter rushed into the office and proceeded to check out the furniture and equipment in the room. Security monitors filled one wall, each one focused on a different room. Another wall was full of DVDs all catalogued by date while another was full of DVDs listed by each girl's name. Amongst those DVDs, Peter saw Big Red mentioned.

  A Gurkha breached the writing desk and Peter saw ledger after ledger stacked inside the drawers. Each ledger listed payments to various men and payments by clients who used the girls, what services were supplied, the times and dates of their visits and the medical repairs needed to patch up the girls after the men left.

  Whoever set up the computers knew nothing about security or perhaps wasn't worried. The hard disks contained files with videos from the security monitors of clients with the girls.

  On the desk lay an appointment book showing future bookings for the various girls against clients' names. It was an extensive dossier on Dingo's crime world.

  Ruefully, Peter noted that the next booking for Jennifer was 2 pm Wednesday and was astonished to see the name of a prominent church dignitary against that booking. He clenched his fists and the fury in his eyes made it apparent that he intended being present at that booking.

  Still studying the appointments, Peter was sitting at the wooden desk when a shout called him to the back of the building.

  This back room was so cold he shivered. The wall in front of him looked like a bank of wide deep drawers. He pulled on one drawer and it slid towards him in a well-oiled movement. Peter recoiled when the lifeless eyes of a corpse stared up at him. Evidently, this was Dingo's own morgue where he stored bodies before disposing of them.

  As he examined the new discovery, Peter thanked the absent Dingo as he'd not only mapped the path to his own destruction but had given Peter material to use against his empire. Turning to his Gurkhas, Peter gave an order.

  "Get this place cleaned up. Bring all the bodies here and we'll use the drawers."

  It was not long before the body of each of the day's clients was in its own drawer and the bedrooms showed no sign of what had happened. With arms full of DVDs, books, videos and ledgers they left, even returning to collect the computers and monitors. They completely stripped the office of all its records.

  After a final inspection, Peter and his men moved through the front door. He didn't consider it strange that a taxi immediately pulled in and he hadn't made a booking. Another followed and yet another, until they were all on their way back to the motel leaving the deserted brothel spick 'n span.


  The well-oiled enterprise reinforced Peter's realization that Joe's network was operating well and was keeping a close watch on Dingo's party, which wouldn't be able to move without one of Joe's shadows.

  In the early evening, once the workers had left, Andrew drove the coach into the workshop where he, with Joe and Peter, removed the false insignia from the coach. They worked long and hard to restore its original identity as a Mercedes Coach with the signs Blake Pastoral proudly displayed on the sides and back. Finally, Andrew reattached the original number plates.

  The following day dawned wet and dreary and the cold wind howling around the motel seemed to find its echo in Peter's soul. He spread the diaries, the ledgers, the DVDs and videos across his bed.

  Breakfast had been a riot of laughter as the girls - closely guarded by Susie and Maria began to organize a shopping trip. Peter, unable to deal with the hilarity, returned to his room where he brooded alone.

  Then his morbid silence was shattered when the girls entered the room. With their faces free of terror, their eyes sparkling and their walk so confident the girls approached. They hugged Peter and kissed his cheek. The last merely stated everyone's prayer. "She will be safe!"

  Then each, with their guards carrying huge wads of Dingo's money, left in the coach with two mother hens, Susie and Maria, who were determined to guard their chickens.

  Grabbing the RSM, Peter thrust a thick wad of extra money into his hands. "That's for Susie, Maria, the RSM’s two daughters and James."

  Hours later, at the end of the business day, Peter had his head down, studying the ledgers and making notes when Joe burst into the room.

  "Our mates in Bathurst have delivered the trailer and god it stinks! Basically, the cattle must do nothing more than piddle and cack. The clever buggers must hold it in for weeks. Quite stomach turning it is. Now explain your plan."

  Later, once the workers had left at the end of the day, the two of them backed the trailer into the workshop and unhitched the prime mover, which drove away. Joe firmly closed the shutters and the workshop was in cold gloom.

  In the motel dining room, that evening the girls gave the men a show, displaying their new purchases.

  Peter sat back and considered that if the breakfast was a festivity what was this?

  Every girl paraded in her new finery to tunes from the public address system and they actually glowed with their makeup and new clothes. The men had made a catwalk of tables and clapped each one as they paraded.

  When the girls eventually finished the parade, the men began to chant, "More, more, more, more, more,” much to the women's amazement.

  Then Joe and Bill grabbed Susie and Maria hustling them out amidst much laughter led by the girls. Bill returned to introduce the two women who played up as they pranced and minced their way down the catwalk to hoots of laughter from the girls and catcalls from the men.

  The parade ended and a little Malay girl took the microphone from Bill. “Tuan-tuan dan Puan-puan! Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm speaking for all of us when I say to you that God must be smiling tonight that such people have rescued us from terror. Here we are, well fed, happy, extremely well dressed, each with our own laptops and buckets of programs, and pockets full of money."

  When her words faltered, the RSM showed that he was human after all as he joined her and held her against his broad chest while she wept. Slowly she regathered her thoughts and looked around the room before continuing.

  "Each night we all prayed that an end would come to our misery but never once did we believe this would be the end. You've told us we are travelling away to the protection of Andrew and his extended family at Blake Pastoral.

  "Peter,” she stepped down off the catwalk and walked to him. Holding his hands in hers she spoke with sincerity, "We'll be praying that your lovely wife who supported us while she was part of the misery will be returned to you. We also pray that death does not come quickly to the monsters who captured us, who sold us and who tortured us."

  She turned to Susie and Maria. "We thank you. Now we know we have two Australian mothers. We are especially thankful for your advice in our purchases today and we know that although we're leaving tonight we'll be back another time."

  Andrew parked the coach at the entrance then supervised the loading of expensive luggage.

  Peter gave a wry smile as he noted the number of iPods and laptops that girls carried as they clambered aboard. The girls did not miss a single man as they gave everyone a kiss.

  The Gurkhas were most embarrassed at the public display of affection, breaking into Nepali and teasing one another, threatening to tell each other's wives about their girl friends. Those staying behind gave much good-humored advice to the four who were to act as escorts for the girls and when the RSM also swung aboard, the few left outside the coach swamped him with more instructions that were supposedly helpful.

  "Take the direct route, Andrew, don't go back through Bathurst. You'll have to tell your parents about what's happening. Don't go far from a phone. God willing, I'll be bringing a load of cattle down on perhaps Wednesday or Thursday. Drive safely."

  Andrew was too busy with the traffic to spot the two cars manned by Gurkhas following him. Peter was leaving nothing to chance.

  Joe and Peter made their way to the workshop and began their work. By sunrise, a false floor in the livestock trailer was complete.

  As Peter straightened his aching back, he chuckled, "Wonder how our guests will enjoy their transport to Victoria?"

  WEEK 2

  Monday

  The newspapers openly reported that two police officers were attending a court hearing into police corruption. Realizing that the two named featured prominently in Dingo's journals, Peter grimly smiled as he made his lethal preparations.

  At midday, a man in an expensive, immaculate, business suit and carrying an attaché case with a camera slung around his neck made his way to the foyer of the Law Courts in Phillip Street where he sat waiting. No one even noticed when this well-dressed grey haired businessman stood. An elevator opened and the two police officers stepped out.

  What was so unusual when the man dropped to one knee to tie his shoelace?

  One police officer seemed to trip, then the second collapsed face down in the foyer. Why would anyone report that the grey haired man had disappeared - camera, attaché case and all?

  The evening news officially disclosed the fact that two senior police officers who had appeared at the Investigation into Police Corruption were dead. A highly skilled assassin had been busy in the Law Courts in broad daylight. Again, police could find no clues except that the weapon used was the favorite choice of hit men.

  On the second page was a report that a prominent church leader suspected of being involved in the crime world had committed suicide.

  When a member of the Chinese contingent overheard Peter, trying to book a flight to Hong Kong the Chinese forced him to cut short his call. Two Tamils stood at the door while two Chinese urged Peter to the conference table.

  "Now tell us what's going on. We've been very patient but we flew here to help and you really haven't used our various talents very well. Our boss isn't happy that he can't repay a little of what he owes. You've been locked up in that room, brooding, so now explain."

  Silently, Peter returned to his room and picked up the ledgers before returning to present the books to them. He didn't need to read the data aloud to his Chinese friends.

  As they read silently, they were not impressed. One Chinese pointed at the politician's name. The records showed the repairs the doctor had made after he used Jennifer for his sexual gratification.

  A burst of wild laughter from the Chinese shocked Peter, but the icy cold intonation of Cantonese echoing from the ceiling made him shiver. The Chinese contingent was making plans.

  Then the words changed to English. "Susie, could we have a scrambled phone line please?” Peter heard the leader shout down the hallway.

  The Chinese leader took the phone and, after dialin
g an international number, barked into the mouthpiece.

  Peter needed no translator. His Cantonese was excellent and he listened attentively.

  "Hmm! He's attending a State Reception, eh? Well he isn't to leave the building alive. Yes that's right,” patiently Peter's Chinese guest repeated himself, "he isn't to leave the building alive. Who cares? Poisoned, shot, stabbed – whatever! I'm sure he won't care and if you can make his premature death a lingering one so much the better. He's annoyed our friend."

  "Next?"

  Peter knew The Little One was a cold-hearted killer but their callous attitude shocked even him as they took the ledgers and began to mark a green tick against those who had died. When a name had no tick, one of the group, either a Tamil or a Chinese, copied the particulars and left. Some of those who left were away a long time and others were quick to return, but Peter noted that every time anyone returned a green tick appeared against a name.

  It was late and time to sleep when Peter noted that the only names without ticks were the father and son duo of Pretty Boy and Dingo. He grinned knowing that they were his - his to teach the pleasure of The Little One's vengeance.

  WEEK 2

  Tuesday

  A breathless and flushed Joe interrupted breakfast. "The telephonist at Dingo's hotel is the daughter of one of the drivers and the sister of one of the lads Dingo killed. She just called to tell me that Dingo rang the doctor ordering him to be 'there' tomorrow to prepare Red for the trip of her lifetime. Red is to be unconscious for 24 hours but when she wakes she'll be a pony among all the camels. She said the laughter of both of them was horrible."

  The news impressed nobody.

  Peter, aware that the last throw of the dice had fallen his way, asked Joe to ring Bathurst and to inform the yard manager of the urgency of having the Blake Pastoral Company prime mover at the workshop on Wednesday morning.

  "No need to worry,” the yard manager informed Joe. "Tell Peter it's less than half an hour away from you in a storage yard where no one would ever look. Just give the word and it'll be there. Now when do you want it?"