Lethal Promise

by Paul Stretton-Stephens

  Mikey called out in a whisper, “Jago, look at this.”

  Keeping low, Jago moved cautiously over to Mikey.

  “Can you see the guy on the low rider with a high handlebar, on the left of the group?”

  Jago followed the description and found his man. “Yes, I’ve got him.”

  “That’s who the other guys are reporting to; that might be Red.”

  Red, a tall, barrel-chested individual, dismounted his bike and gave directions, pointing at one area and then another, and then towards the building that Jago, Fi and Mikey were on. Three men walked towards them, all armed with handguns.

  “Let’s keep low and quiet, and maybe they’ll miss us.”

  Jago moved over to Fi. “Set your MPDs to maximum range and I’ll do the same. That way we’ll be able to monitor their movements below.”

  The bikies weren’t quiet, but seemed thorough in their search. One of them called to the others, “Why don’t we get on the roof? We’ll get a better view from there.”

  Jago was nearest to where he, Mikey and Fi had accessed the roof, using the car as a stepping stone. The three bikies had the same idea. Jago could hear them down below, arguing over who would go first and help the others up. He heard a footfall on the vehicle and knew the first of the three would arrive on the roof at any moment. He made his weapon safe and slung it on his back, ready for the new arrival.

  He watched the man’s progress via his MPDs and lay in a prone position, waiting to pounce. He saw two large hands grab the parapet, followed by the sound of the man’s grunt as he heaved himself onto the roof. In doing so, he stumbled forward and stopped himself falling flat on his face with his hands, and ended up turning into a sitting position.

  Jago swooped on the surprised man and struck his windpipe, stifling any chance of a cry for help. The man’s hands automatically reached for his throat, exposing his torso and lower body. With force, Jago kneed the man in the groin and delivered a couple of bruising punches to the head. He quickly rolled him over, and applied PlastiCuffs to his hands and ankles and a gag. He dragged him to one side of the roof with the help of Mikey.

  One of the man’s colleagues was calling up to him. “Hey, Jed, where are you, man? Give me a hand up.”

  When all that followed was silence, the men below must have deduced that Jed had somehow fallen and become unconscious. Jago heard one man running off to get help. Meanwhile, he and Fi could see that the other man was attempting to scale the wall and get onto the roof by himself.

  As he got closer, Jago leant over and extended a hand, which the man gratefully accepted, thinking Jago was his friend Jed. Jago pulled him onto the rooftop and trained his pistol on the man’s head. He put a single finger to his lips, silently telling his captive to be quiet. The man didn’t move, or make a murmur.

  Mikey approached the man from behind, startling him with a whisper: “Roll over and put your hands behind your back.”

  Mikey applied PlastiCuffs to the man’s wrists and ankles and removed the neckerchief from around his neck and made a gag of it. Mikey and Jago then dragged him over to his companion.

  By this time, Jago and his team could hear confusion below. In all fairness, the bikies had seen one of their mates go onto the roof, only to lose all communication with him, and now they’d lost another one of their mates. It sounded like there were five or six bikies now and they were planning to get on the roof.

  Mikey positioned himself behind a beaming halogen lamp on the side of the building where the rest of the bikie gang were on their way to join the five or six below. Mikey counted nine active gang members, plus the two on the roof.

  Jago joined him. “It looks as though they’re intent on getting up here. Why don’t we slip away, across the main terminal roof, and outflank them while they’re all together?”

  “You realise how many of them there are?” asked Mikey.

  “There are only a few. Anyway, we were on our way to see them, weren’t we? Now they’re here, it’d be rude not to have a chat.”

  Jago beckoned Fi over to their position and briefed her on what would take place.

  “Right then, Boss, shall I take point?”

  “After you, Fi,” said Jago wryly.

  Fi quickly demonstrated her agility as she transferred herself from one building rooftop to another. Once she was on the other rooftop, she lay in a prone position with her weapon at the ready to cover Mikey, who was moving next. Jago covered the rear and checked the bindings of his two captives before he left the roof. All three traversed the curved roof, making for the main entrance, which had a porch with a flat roof. Each lowered themselves onto the porch roof and then they helped one another to the ground.

  “Mikey, you go with Fi and cover the right flank. Give me two minutes to get into position. I’ll go past the building we were on and flank them from the left.”

  “Okay, two minutes from now.”

  Fi and Mikey accompanied Jago to the corner of the building. He checked that the coast was clear and then crossed the road at lightning speed. Mikey noticed that Jago was light on his feet and hardly made a sound. They watched as he disappeared into the darkness.

  Fi checked the time; they had thirty seconds to go. She urged Mikey to move with her along the edge of the building. At the two-minute point, Mikey and Fi, and Jago appeared at either side of the Deans. Jago fired a single shot into the air to attract their attention. It worked. They all turned to face Jago, some reaching for their firearms, until a short burst of rounds ricocheted off the ground near them.

  “DROP YOUR WEAPONS. Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head. DO IT NOW,” commanded Fi.

  About half a dozen of the men immediately dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. The rest stood steadfast and turned to face Fi and Mikey. Fi took aim at one of them whose hand was nearing the pistol in his waistband.

  “Go on, go for it. See what happens when you do.”

  The thickset gang member slowed his hand movement.

  “Yes, that’s right, just use a finger and your thumb to pull it from your waistband and then toss it to one side.”

  Fi noticed that the man beside him was reaching inside his waistcoat. She waited for a second to check that he was producing a weapon, and as soon as she saw it, she swivelled and shot him straight in the chest, after which she immediately returned her sights to the other man, who had frozen.

  “I said get on your knees. Do it now.”

  The man slowly followed the instructions and attempted to lean over to check his wounded companion.

  “Leave him. He should have listened and then he would have been on his knees like you are, not on his back bleeding.”

  She turned to Mikey and whispered, “Keep out of my line of sight and gather up their weapons. Take no chances – if one of them tries to grab you, shoot him.”

  Mikey nodded and made his way to the edge of the group. As he was gathering the weapons, Fi ordered the men to lie face down with their hands behind their heads. They complied without question.

  Jago stepped forward and addressed the men. “If you follow our instructions, no harm will come to you. If you do not, we will shoot you. It’s as simple as that. Now, which one of you is Red? I want to speak with Red.”

  There was silence.

  Jago walked over to the man who he suspected was Red. “Are you Red? You were giving the orders out there. Are you responsible for this rabble?”

  The man didn’t utter a word.

  Mikey was checking the shot man. He was bleeding and unconscious but still alive. He applied a dressing to the man’s wound and everyone could hear him ring for an ambulance.

  Jago walked to one side of the kneeling men. “We’re not here to hurt you, and we’re even calling for medical assistance for your friend here. All I want to do is talk to Red, and I haven’t got all day. So, which one of you is Red, and I warn you, this is the last time I’m asking.”

  Jago’s words met with a steely silence. He slung hi
s MP5 over his shoulder and unholstered his Sig pistol.

  He looked at Fi. “Remind me, which foot do these motorcycle riders use to change gear? Is it their left or their right?”

  Jago was now walking behind the men, who were lying face down. They were getting fidgety, not knowing what he would do next but expecting the worst.

  Fi replied, “I think it’s the right, but I could be wrong. Best shoot both and then we’re sure. And if I were you guys, I’d tell him who Red is. Or at least Red should have the balls to protect his men and come forward. What kind of leader are you, Red, to let them get shot up?”

  For effect, Jago released his magazine, checked his rounds, reinserted the magazine and cocked the weapon, ready to fire. The men remained resolute in their silence and Jago stepped to the side of one man. He looked at the patch on the back of the man’s waistcoat and then fired a single shot into the man’s right calf. The man screamed and rolled in agony, and two others attempted to get to their feet.

  “Stay down or you could be next,” commanded Jago.

  A deep voice called out, “Enough. I’m Red. Leave my guys alone and I’ll talk with you.”

  “Red, that’s all I wanted. Stand up and back up over there into the open,” instructed Jago, pointing out towards the runway. “Keep backing up until I say stop.”

  Chapter 19

  Red walked backwards for about twenty metres before Jago gave the instruction to stop.

  Jago drew close to Mikey and spoke loudly enough for all to hear: “Cuff these men. If you have any hassle, shoot.”

  Fi gave cover as Mikey set about applying the PlastiCuffs to the wrists of each man in turn. When he reached the last man, the one Jago had shot in the calf, he was writhing in agony.

  “Listen, I’m going to cuff you. If you stop struggling, I’ll also apply a dressing to your wound. If not, I won’t and you’ll just have to wait until the paramedics arrive.”

  The man stopped rolling around. Mikey’s words had focused his attention. True to his word, Mikey cuffed him and then applied one of Fi’s combat field dressings to the wound. He dragged the man to the wall and elevated his leg against it.

  They could hear the melody of sirens nearing in the distance.

  Jago walked over to Red, who seemed confident for someone whose men were shot and bound. Jago holstered his pistol – and Red came rushing at him. In one fluid movement, Jago sidestepped and grabbed the man charging in his direction and threw him heavily to the ground.

  “Now, Red, I only want to speak with you. There’s no real need for this.”

  As Jago finished his words, Red was just getting to his feet. Winded, Red elected to continue his pursuit of Jago. He charged once again and grabbed Jago by the collar. Jago locked his hands on Red’s wrist and twisted the man’s arm across his body. Red was now bent over, facing the ground, in a wristlock with his arm outstretched. Jago kicked him in the gut and then took him to the ground with almighty force, pounding Red’s face into the tarmac. Jago released the wrist, although he could have easily continued with the movement and broken it.

  Red groaned; he was no match for Jago and he knew it. He sat up, waving his hand at Jago, and spluttered, “Okay, okay, what do you want to know?”

  “I want to know who your suppliers are. And I want to know which supplier asked you to provide an assassin from within your group.”

  “Ah, mate, assassin’s a bit strong, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. You send a man with a killing machine, he uses it and a man dies. What would you call it?” asked Jago.

  Red screwed his face up in anguish before replying, “Well, err … it was a favour.”

  “Favour nothing, it was in lieu of payment. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yeah, it was. It was instead of payment. But it was still a favour.”

  “Let me get this right. You get stuff from these people and you normally pay them for it, but this time they didn’t want payment, they wanted you to provide someone to do their dirty work.”

  “I guess you can call it that,” said Red.

  “That makes you nothing more than a contract killer.”

  “But I didn’t do the killing!” protested Red.

  “No, you’re right, you didn’t do the actual killing, but you gave instructions, didn’t you? And that makes you as guilty as the man who committed the action. And I’m sure we can get you implicated in the massacre that occurred that day too. You’re looking at life inside, at least. I hope you’ve got plenty of friends in there, because you’ll need them.”

  “What’s in it for me if I tell you my supplier?”

  Jago stared directly into Red’s eyes. “You get to live, that’s what’s in it for you.”

  Red swallowed hard. He had a decision to make.

  “Look, I have suppliers for all sorts of gear.”

  “I don’t care about that. I want details about this particular supplier. The rest of your operation is not my concern.”

  Red was uncomfortable. He looked around him, he looked at his men and he looked at the sky. He smacked his lips and took a deep breath.

  “Okay, I’m ruined anyway. I have this supplier who provides us with synthetic drugs, weapons and ammunition when we need them. They do everything via message. I’ve only ever seen one person from the organisation, a guy, and that was about five years ago. Everything ran like clockwork with these people until about six months ago.”

  Jago knelt on one knee. “Go on. What happened six months ago? What was the change?”

  “The weapons that were available were more heavy-duty, but the drugs still came through. Then there was the offer of part-payment in exchange for information, and then finally they wanted this job done instead of full payment.”

  “What kind of information did they want?” questioned Jago.

  “They wanted information about the mines, about the people who worked in them and about groups that were against them.”

  “Did they say why?”

  “No, never. They just told us what they wanted and we did our best to get what we could and pass it along the line. We didn’t really have a choice; it was either work their way or find another supplier. I guess we got in deeper and deeper with them.”

  “You said you communicated via message. Was that over a computer, on a tablet or just on your mobile phone?”

  “We agreed to use two mobile phones, mine and Bruce’s.”

  “Who’s Bruce?”

  “The fella you shot in the leg.”

  Jago turned to Fi and Mikey and called out, “Get the mobile of the guy I shot in the leg. Then separate it from all the others you collect.”

  Fi and Mikey set about their task, just as the local police and ambulance arrived. Three police officers alighted from their vehicles with guns drawn, and Mikey approached them with his ID and explained the situation.

  Jago continued talking with Red. “Were the messages always in English?”

  “Yes.”

  “Think carefully now. Were they in good English? Or like the English of a person whose second language is English?”

  “My English isn’t brilliant, but theirs had its mistakes. Many a time I thought they might be foreign, but I don’t know from where.”

  “And when did you receive the messages? On any particular day or at any particular hour?”

  “We’d normally get them on a Tuesday, about five or six in the arvo.”

  “And you’ve never spoken to anyone, apart from when you saw the man five years ago?”

  “I spoke to a woman once. She had an accent like American or Canadian; I can’t really tell them apart. That was about a year ago,” said Red.

  “The man you saw five years ago, what did he look like and where did he come from?”

  “He was a softly spoken Asian guy. A little, skinny guy. He spoke so quietly I could hardly hear what he was saying. His English was great, though; better than mine anyway. He flew in on a private jet.”

  “Did he say where he ha
d come from?” asked Jago.

  “No, and I didn’t ask.”

  “What about how long the flight had been?”

  “No, he said nothing about the flight. Wait a minute. One of my guys was speaking with either the pilot or the flunky on board about his watch. Yes, that’s it – he liked his watch.”

  “And? What about the watch? What’s the significance of this?”

  “The guy said he’d just bought it in a particular shop in the Maldives. I don’t remember the shop, but it was definitely the Maldives because my guy kept going on about visiting the place. He drove me nuts about it.”

  “Which one of your guys was it?” asked Jago, looking over at the men.

  “Rich, it was Rich. But he’s not here with us today. He’s been down south the last couple of weeks, seeing his kid while his ex is away with her new fella.”

  “And where would that be exactly?”

  “I don’t know, somewhere down near Bunbury, I think. A place called Peppermint Grove, or something like that. And before you ask, his name is Rich Cassidy. His old mum lives down that way and he’ll be staying with her.”

  “Okay, so back to the softly spoken Asian man. What did you discuss?”

  “He said what he had to offer, and we said what we wanted and how much we could shift. And then we agreed a price for a three-month trial. That went well with the synthetics, and then they offered other gear like handguns – good-quality, untraceable handguns – and ammo, and at a good price. In the last six months the weapons on offer have become more heavy-duty, and they’re more difficult to move and they cost much more. So, we’ve left them alone.”

  “Did they offer anything else?”

  Red hesitated.

  Jago pressed him: “Well, did they offer anything else?”

  “They offered girls. They sent photos, and they were just kids. We told them we didn’t have the demand for kids. They wanted us to snatch teenagers and swap them with their girls, but we wanted no part in any of that. Guns and drugs are just fine, but kids? No way.”

  “Did the man indicate that he’d be doing business with anyone else on mainland Australia?”

  “No, he didn’t. I’m not sure he’d have told me anyway,” said Red frankly.