by J A Scooter
Peter could hear the conversation but didn’t understand a single word. Smiling, he noted the yard boss of the trucking company spoke in the same dialect as Joe. He just shrugged as Joe translated the casual discussion before returning to the conversation.
Peter interrupted, "Ask the Boss to organize a load of frisky, well fed steers for me to pick up on the way through please. Say Wednesday evening.” He turned away and allowed Joe to continue his talk.
Laughing, Joe ended the dialogue but Peter had another request. "Tonight we camouflage the van in the yard as a carpet salesman's unit. We'll need some carpet rolls in it. Can we do it?"
Joe's eyes twinkled. "Maria's family and I came from the same village. Now we stick together. Her family is the carpet seller of Sydney and I understand a van of theirs needs some repairs. Hang on"
Not twenty minutes later a carpet van rolled into the workshop. Stepping out of the van, the driver waved at Joe as, his job complete, he rushed to another waiting vehicle.
They inspected the van and noted that in the back were many carpet off-cuts and a note had been left on the front seat. 'Just as well you are good a good husband to my niece, Maria. We don't need the off-cuts and they can't be traced to us.' Joe did the translation. 'Ring us, Joe, when the van is re-sprayed and repaired although you couldn't repair a hole in a sieve.'
That night the plan to rescue Jennifer was finalized and Peter was confident that Dingo's rule was ending. The turmoil in his mind while retracing the details of the rescue seeking flaws in the plan, plus the excitement that Jennifer would soon be back in his life was too much to allow him to rest.
WEEK 2
Wednesday
Sitting in their carpet van at a Service Station only one block from the brothel, Peter watched the Chinese leader speaking on the phone inside the shop. The Chinese, returning to Peter, spoke to the cashier with a pure Australian accent, "Thanks mate, see ya.” No one would suspect that this Chinese was anything but born and bred in Australia.
"Let's go. The black Mercedes is just turning into the street outside the brothel. There are two cars accompanying it. Our quarry includes six bullyboys, Dingo, Pretty Boy, Jennifer and one other. The driver assumes it's another bodyguard. The full party is one woman and nine men. Now they have parked in the street outside and have all gone into the building."
Peter parked the van behind the last car of Dingo's group . A taxi pulled up and four well-dressed Asian men alighted. They followed the two workers who alighted from the carpet van and who were carrying their bags of tools.
Dressed as a workman, Peter seemed to have a cigarette dangling from his lips. He used the raging bull key to open the door ignoring the second, the third and the fourth taxis that had stopped to unload equally well-dressed Asian men.
Leading the way into the main room of the brothel, Peter came face to face with Pretty Boy and four of the bullyboys.
"You bastard, what have you fuckin' done?” Pretty Boy snarled. The 'cigarette' in Peter's mouth spewed its little dart into his neck injecting its paralyzing drug. He tumbled to the floor. The bullyboys dropped like stunned mullets as Chinese hands savagely chopped into each throat sending them unconscious to the floor.
It was quick, it was noiseless and the Chinese seemed to melt away leaving Peter standing over the body of Pretty Boy.
Behind him, Peter felt the door open. Hearing a sharp intake of breath, he knew Dingo had arrived.
"Well, well! So Scarface supposed he could rescue his harlot wife eh?” Sneering, Dingo felt safe behind the Walter P38 from his car. "Pity you won't be making the trip with her. We sold her for a pretty penny, believe me, but you'll never see her."
In his foolishness Dingo continued, "You know you shouldn't be smoking, it's bad for your health - not that you'll be living much longer."
Dingo never knew what hit him as he crashed to the floor, paralyzed, with a dart in his throat.
Peter led the way to the kitchen where two more bullyboys stood against the wall, white faced and trembling.
Standing ready to garrote their prisoners, the Tamils guarding them were fingering long silken strands looped over the prisoner's heads and around their necks. The cupboard concealing the steps was hanging haphazardly from the wall.
Peter leapt to the bottom of the short staircase with his Uzi in his hand.
The doctor and the nurse both raised their hands as two of the Chinese joined Peter.
"Take them!” growled Peter, without hesitation.
Completely disregarding the fact that the nurse was a woman the Chinese beside him treated them both in exactly the same way - a single blow to their throats to drop them like two stones into a pond.
"Bring the bolt cutters!” Peter bellowed up the steps. Then turning again into the room, he faced his worst fears.
Taking a step forward, he could feel the bile rising in his throat as he confronted the unconscious naked woman on the operating table. As if the end of his world had come, he struggled to recognize the person who now looked so little like his Jennifer.
The gang had cut her long red tresses short and her face was a mask of pain. The drugs that the doctor had injected had made her into a zombie. She had no pubic hair and her sex was bloody. Even her thighs were blood stained. Fine silver chains joined the nipple rings to the clit ring inserted into her body and Peter started to weep.
When Peter bent to kiss her, she didn't taste like Jennifer. He whispered, "You are safe now,” as he carefully manipulated the bolt cutters and removed the collar.
The sheet below her was soaked with blood.
Peter had no warning of the extent of her abuse. Frozen as he tried to comprehend her injuries, Peter felt gentle hands coming to rest on his shoulder forcing him to stand aside.
Quietly the Gurkha surgeon from the farm consoled him. "Jennifer is in my care now and she will recover.” He called up the stairs in Nepali and two Gurkhas promptly arrived and, after carefully wrapping her in blankets, carried her to the waiting Mercedes.
Suddenly Peter realized one of his trusted Tamil friends was speaking to him.
"The carpet rolls containing our prisoners - the bullyboys, the doctor, the nurse, Pretty Boy and Dingo are loaded in the van. It's quite an interesting load! Joe is waiting to take you with Jennifer and the surgeon in the second Mercedes. She's wrapped in blankets and is as comfortable as our surgeon can make her."
Peter was relieved to leave the brothel.
He did not realize it was so late when Joe opened the workshop and the van rolled in beside the cattle trailer followed by the Mercedes.
Pushing Peter aside, the Gurkha surgeon assumed responsibility for Jennifer's wellbeing. Peter felt relief that at last Jennifer was receiving the medical attention she so desperately needed.
While the surgeon attended to Jennifer, Joe and Peter unloaded the cargo of rolled up carpets and slid them under the false floor of the trailer but not before sealing every mouth and binding arms and legs so there could be no kicking. There would be no sounds and no movement from the prisoners. Peter could only wonder what Dingo would think when he realized his 'wife' and Pretty Boy were beside him.
The criminal doctor, the nurse and Dingo's guards made up the load of a dozen captives. The rest of Dingo's associates were dead.
The Blake Pastoral truck was standing ready with the trailer hitched behind when Peter donned his overalls and his welding gloves. He wept silently when he saw the pathetic little body that was Jennifer lying unconscious on the bed behind the driver's seat. Yet he felt relieved that the Gurkha surgeon was travelling with them.
The surgeon had taken care to make her as comfortable as possible.
"No! I need no guards with me. The surgeon and I can look after any mishaps.” Peter adamantly rejected help. "I'll pick up those steers tonight and continue home.
“Joe, thank the taxi drivers and everyone involved. I'm most grateful. You keep your workshop going. Okay? Tell Maria she has a wonderful husband. I could never have succ
eeded without my friends."
No one exchanged words of farewell. None were needed as Joe hugged Peter almost crushing him in his bear-like grip. Peter swung into the cab and drove off into the traffic without a backward glance.
He was taking his wife home.
He saw a number of cars fall into place behind him and knew his friends were determined that he would arrive safely with his precious cargo, his wife.
There was no need for tablets tonight. There was no requirement for anything but food. At a trucker's café, he ordered meals for the surgeon and himself and carried them back to the cab.
He phoned Andrew telling him he was still short of Bathurst where he had to load the steers.
Andrew wasn't interested. "What about Sis?” He knew where his priorities lay.
"Oh? You mean my wife?” In spite of all that had happened, Peter couldn't help teasing her brother.
"You're a proper bastard. Where's Jennifer?"
"She's asleep on the bed behind the driver's seat - but she's in very bad shape. Give the nurse a message from the surgeon. She’s to prepare the operating theatre as Jennifer is on the way and needs immediate attention. It's as though the bastards set out to destroy her as a woman.
"Oh, by the way, we have twelve guests,” he continued. "Could you and Dad,” the word slipped out but it felt good, "prepare some suitable accommodation for some short term guests near the wild boar pens? They won't be staying long. How are all our other guests?
"Tell Mum I have Jennifer and the surgeon with me. We'll be there soon, as I'll be loading the steers in about an hour's time and will drive nonstop. Bye."
He didn't wait for any further questions but attacked the medium rare steak and chips. The fried eggs were excellent as were the piles of toast, and the meals contained enough energy to see them through the long journey into the night.
As they ate, all he could think of was the wretched, pitiful shell of a woman who had traveled, without moving, in the bed behind his driver's seat. His heart ached at her injuries and trauma but he knew he loved her more than ever and wanted to hold her safe from the world.
The surgeon's support was comforting and Peter was grateful for his humane assistance and sympathetic presence on this long journey.
At 7.30 the next morning, Peter rang Andrew from the truck stop nearest the farm. "I'll be there within the hour, Andrew, and will be driving in through the forest.” Pausing, he listened to Andrew's loud complaints.
"Shut up Andrew and listen. I'm tired. Just shut the fuck up and listen.”
Peter paused as shouts came down the line. "Yes, I know it'll be a tight fit, but that's the road I'll use. I'll drop the passengers at the pigpens and they're yours to hold. Make certain four Gurkhas are with you as I don't wish to chase escapees all over the Victorian countryside."
Losing patience at Andrew's interjections he rudely roared, "For God's sake, Andrew just listen! I'm not interested in your dad, your mum nor you. This is my wife so we do as I say.
"No!” He almost screamed into the phone.
"Jennifer will not be in your home, not until she is checked for drugs, sexually transmitted diseases and certainly not until her body is restored.”
A babble of arguments resounded in Peter’s ear.
"Look Andrew if you bloody argue I'll turn this fucking truck around now and drive back to Sydney and both Jennifer and I will disappear forever. Warn your parents I'm at the limit, the end of my tether, and will brook no arguments. I'll never risk my wife again. Is that understood?"
Obviously, Andrew was passing his terms to his parents, because there was a long pause.
"Is that understood?” Peter screamed into the phone repeating the question.
Andrew replied. "We'll carry out your wishes, Peter. Dad and I will be waiting on tractors. One of us will follow you and the other will be in front once you get to the forest in case you become stuck.
"For God's sake, take care as you've driven through the night and no matter what you assume, we all love you and Jennifer equally. Can I tell our people Jennifer is with you?"
"Yes but don't let them start celebrating yet . You've never seen a party until you've seen them let their hair down. See you soon"
The two tractors were waiting as promised. Slowly Eric led the way though the State Forest while Andrew brought up the rear.
At the pigpens, they stopped and Eric stood his ground.
"Listen Peter, you are one hell of a good man but Jennifer is my daughter so I want to help you unload the human animals. Don't tell me you don't want me in trouble with the police, just don't go there. I'm going to help."
From the false tray under the steers, that bellowed and stamped their anger at being on the trailer, the three men dragged the criminals wrapped in carpet. Every one of the prisoners, soaked in urine and covered in manure, had regained consciousness. They didn't smell, they stank and Andrew led them one at a time to a small tin shed.
Chained by the neck to the wall, the nurse and the Katoey fared no better than the others. When one of the guards begged for food and a drink, Andrew drove his foot into his groin.
"Shut the fuck up! That girl was my sister and did you feed her or treat her like a human being. Say anything and I'll kill you now."
Andrew reached under his shirt and unsheathed a Kukri, then dragged the razor sharp point down the man's shirt until a thin line of blood followed the tip.
Peter was astounded as he knew Gurkhas don't give Kukris away except to those they admire.
Leaving the prisoners with four Gurkha guards, Peter drove the truck to the cottage hospital, refusing to allow either of Jennifer's men-folk to see her. He knew how the shock would affect them but was forced to enlist Andrew's aid to get her out of the cabin.
The surgeon insisted they followed his directions so that Jennifer's body was not further traumatized.
"Jesus, oh Christ!” Andrew's words showed his revulsion. "Those bastards! What the fuck have they done to her?"
The vehemence and the anger brought his father from the other side of the truck. Eric didn't swear. He didn't show his anger. He dropped to his knees and wept.
The surgeon called the nurse and together they placed Jennifer on the hospital gurney. Only then did Andrew and his father realize the full extent of Jennifer's injuries.
Peter knelt beside the gurney and put his lips to Jennifer's hand as it hung low. "My love you are safe now and soon, very soon, we will be out riding on the farm.”
Unable to add anything through his tears he allowed his passion to flow through his lips onto her fingers.
The surgeon assisted him to his feet and ushered him out of the room with Andrew and Eric. "We need to stabilize Jennifer in preparation for surgery tomorrow,” he said.
The three men were standing, dazed on the verandah when the sudden scream of an engine under torment broke through their grief and a motor scooter skidded to a halt in front of them. Elizabeth had arrived and raced past them straight into the hospital. Before they could move, they heard her scream and immediately knew she had seen Jennifer.
Eric struggled to his feet and went to support his wife bringing her back outside to wait with them. White-faced, grim, shaking and sobbing, Elizabeth sat with them on the steps of the hospital awaiting the surgeon's verdict.
Hour after hour passed and not one of the three seemed to notice that a guard was in position. They pecked at the food and sipped at the drinks that the nurse had brought them.
They said nothing, just sitting there, holding each other and leaning against each other for support.
"Shit - the steers!” Peter remembered the load.
"The stockmen have looked after them and the guards have given some food and water to the prisoners,” the RSM, who had been standing unnoticed with the guard, had a toothy grin. "We can't let anything happen to them before their judgment day."
It was dark and cold when the surgeon finally appeared.
"Jennifer's sleeping soundly and is in no d
istress now,” he announced. "You can do nothing. You can achieve nothing by remaining here. Get a good night's sleep. We'll look after Jennifer."
Peter stood and marched straight past the surgeon into the ward. "Jennifer's my wife and here I stay. I won't be a nuisance but here I stay.” His words were insistent.
The surgeon and the nurse left while Peter remained, kneeling on the floor with his head on Jennifer's pillow. When Jennifer made the slightest movement, he was instantly alert and when the nurse returned the next morning, he was awake still holding his beloved wife's hand.
Late the following morning Jennifer was lying on her back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, making no sound at all. Even when Peter spoke, it was as though she was deaf, as she didn't react. Her eyes showed no brief gleam of recognition and she didn't answer.
The surgeon ushered Peter out of the room as the nurse prepared Jennifer for surgery. On the verandah, the surgeon explained.
"Whoever did this to her needs to be brought to justice. The bastards have done extensive damage. We've x-rayed her and at least we can repair her physical body . She should be her old self after we remove the rings and we give her time to heal.
"What really worries me is her state of mind. She's acting like a zombie right now, but I won't be much help with her mental condition until we get the results of her blood tests to see what drugs they administered to her and check to see if she has any STDs. You must rest, Peter. She won't be out of surgery until late this afternoon."
The clear sound of the small company chopper interrupted their conversation. It rose and, flying low, raced southwards.
The unexpected noise startled Peter. Inquisitively, he raised his head to follow the chopper with his eyes.
Noticing Peter's un-stated query the surgeon explained. "Don't be shocked Peter. The chopper's gone to collect a friend, a plastic surgeon to help. By the time we're finished, as I said, she will be your Jennifer once more.” With a pat on his shoulder, the surgeon turned and walked back inside.
Against the hospital fence was Peter's bike with his helmet on the seat.