Without You I Have Nothing (69 page)

BOOK: Without You I Have Nothing
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"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."

The phone rang again.
Joe absentmindedly picked it up as he watched Peter's face intently.

"Joe speaking.” 
Then he immediately broke into Italian. Even Mark, who thought he could speak a
few European languages and whose Italian was good, didn't have the faintest
idea what Joe was saying in his dialect.

"Thanks. Keep in
touch,” Joe concluded.

Those were the only
words Peter or Mark understood.

"I believed my
Italian was good but...”  Mark commented with a laugh.

"Unless you were
born in the same village as me on the island of Sicily you wouldn't understand
a word of what I was saying,” was Joe's laughing reply.

"Peter let's
go.”  He led him into the street where they couldn't be overheard. "Things
are developing. Silver Service Limousines have contacted me to say Dingo has
ordered four limos for 8 pm Friday to pick up at Hunters Hill and drop off at
the Red Jade, Dingo's own nightclub.

"It appears the
nightclub chef has his knickers in a knot, as all food is to be Halal. In fact,
the staff is furious. They're ready to quit but are terrified of
repercussions."

Mark interrupted any
further comment by calling Peter out of the street to the phone. A quick
conversation in Cantonese ensued.

"God, this is
like the United Nations,” Mark remarked.

Peter returned to the
street to continue the conversation with Joe. Laughing at the surprised look on
Joe's face he announced, "Our troops arrive tomorrow and Dingo's fools
genuinely consider they are so smart.

"We shall see! 
Stop looking worried and surprised, Joe, I've merely called in some debts owed
to me.”  Peter threw these words back at Joe as he rushed up the hill to the
Motel.

"Cancel all
bookings for say the next month, please Susie. Any bookings you're holding,
arrange to pass onto nearby motels and you pick up the tab. Make them free to
your clients so they'll definitely wish to come back. I'll leave the
appropriate arrangements to you but the motel will hang the NO VACANCY sign out
until I say otherwise. I'll sign the register as a business booking now.

"You'll have no
problem with the motel owner as you'll be showing a healthy profit during this
period. At least, for a while you'll have quality time with James."

Susie could only
shake her head in surprise as Peter wrote in flourishing calligraphy the
official names of two companies - one in Mandarin Script and the other in
Tamil.

"Your guests are
hopefully arriving tomorrow morning and taking a few tours of Sydney before
beginning hard work and study at Blake Pastoral,” he explained. "Blake
Pastoral will be looking after the tab and will be paying you something special
for being a gracious hostess."

Ignoring her efforts
to refuse, he phoned Blake Pastoral and merely grunted, "The acting RSM
please,” before breaking into Nepali. When he had eventually concluded his
orders, he put his arm across Susie's shoulder to reassure her.

"Stop looking so
worried Susie. Never fear, we will rescue Jennifer and I'll kill the scum
responsible for her plight. That's a guarantee, not a threat, and it'll be to
my immense satisfaction. Tomorrow night you'll discover why I'm laughing at
these fools."

"Just as well,
the car park is large as a tourist coach will arrive tomorrow and will be
parked on the premises to transport your guests. Perhaps, if you're up to it,
you could go with the coach as hostess as you know Sydney pretty well. I know
the passengers will enjoy James and spoil him rotten."

"The men who are
coming are good fun. They're bloody dangerous but good fun. They'll protect you
and James. God,” his face broke into despair, "if only I'd taken the same
care of Jennifer."

Tearfully, he
retraced his way to the workshop where he called Joe and handed the phone to
him.

"Ring your mates
in the taxis. Singapore Airlines Flight 301 from Singapore arrives at 7 am
tomorrow. They'll hold up a sign Little One Tours and will collect sixteen
passengers. Blake Pastoral will pay all bills for the trip. The expenses will
include 25% cash tip for each driver. They are to take two passengers per cab
and the taxis are to be clean. The drivers are to dress in clean uniforms. Can
you arrange that?

Their fares will book
in at Susie's Motel where the drivers will have breakfast with our guests and
get to know them."

Joe stared at this
man who was so calmly arranging a war, a gang war where there would be no
prisoners taken and where there could only be one outcome.

Dingo would have mo
time to duck or run.

The telephone
conversation continued for a long time and Peter was becoming impatient when
Joe replaced the phone. "Now that was really interesting,” Joe commented. "It
seems Dingo's been running a protection racket on the various taxi fleets, and
when a few drivers rebelled by smashing up his Mercedes, they were killed. Now
they're only too pleased to assist you."

WEEK   1

That Fateful Wednesday

It was very early
Wednesday morning when two Victorian cars drove to the entrance of the workshop
and Peter directed them to the motel where they were booked in as guests of
Blake Pastoral.

The first of the
invited visitors had arrived.

Taxi after taxi
dropped their fares at the motel and after the divers ate breakfast with their
passengers the taxies quickly disappeared into the traffic. None of the guests
signed the register and none gave their name. To Susie they were nameless Gurkhas,
Indians or Chinese.

Andrew arrived and
the motel was quickly filling.

The first out of the
coach were the two daughters of the RSM. They rushed to Susie demanding to see
James William.

Peter was surprised
but instinctively he knew the RSM had supplied his own bodyguards for the baby.
Gurkha women were renowned for the ferocious protection of their children.

An even bigger
surprise was the last passenger to alight. The surgeon from Blake Pastoral's
village hospital stepped forward to grip Peter's hand. "The RSM demanded I
come in case some of you wild, hot headed young fellows get injured."

No one left the
premises and there seemed to be an air of urgent expectancy and excitement
hanging over the building. Food arrived. The new guests were served an Italian
lunch.

Susie had ceased to
be amazed at her guests' courtesy and smiling treatment of her and the baby.

She recognized the
RSM and his daughters but all the other Gurkhas looked alike and they didn't
attempt to introduce themselves. The RSM said they had unpronounceable names
and called them by their various ranks. He added that it was better if no one
knew their names but didn't elaborate.

BOOK: Without You I Have Nothing
12.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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