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The blacked-out traffic lights on Stirling Highway heightened my tension. Impatiently, I drummed my fingers on the dash. Getting to Beth before that mongrel, Karim was all I could think of. As cautious drivers crawled through the intersection, repressed memories flooded my mind. Years ago, I’d trudged through the desert sand carrying Beth. When I couldn’t go on any longer, I’d laid her under a thicket of trees struggling to survive in a dried-up river-bed so I could go for help — left her unconscious and alone at the peak of the Australian summer. I still dreamt about it.
Those nightmares were manifestations of guilt — a guilt that had been nibbling away at me ever since. At any rate, that was the theory of the air force shrink. Now following Beth’s distressed call I felt so tensed up that I contemplated slamming the car into the back of the stationary van ahead of me. Calling Charlie Leeke made more sense.
Earlier thrashing out the options in a conference call with General Lee and Chief Superintendent Leeke, I’d demanded the job of heading up the rescue team. Lee agreed. Just as well, because I’d have disobeyed any orders to the contrary. Bumping me down to airman wouldn’t have prevented me from going to Beth’s aid.
Charlie had been tasked with aborting the function, advising the guests of its cancellation and blocking access to the hospital. He answered on the first ring. “What the hell’s going on Mo? Your backup wants to know where you are.”
“The lights are down on Stirling Highway.”
“Oh shit! Give me your location. I’ll send a police car to get you through.”
Good old Charlie! Barely five minutes after he ended the call, I heard a siren roaring. Through my rear vision mirror I saw the police’s fast-response car with its blue and white lights flashing, weaving in and out of the stalled traffic. My split-second fighter-pilot’s reflexes didn’t fail me and I pulled out the moment it passed my vehicle. The cop car turned right at the first intersection, escorting me through the back roads at breakneck speed. I panicked as we approached the turn off to the perp’s apartment, afraid the siren would attract attention. I needn’t have worried. Right on cue, the cop turned off the siren and continued on straight ahead.
The small apartment block where Beth was imprisoned overlooked a park full of activity. It was an unseasonably sunny day. I was glad I’d changed into civvies as no one gave me a second glance. I couldn’t see any sign of the SAS commandos. No doubt Charlie had given my back-up the same dress advice. I dialed the commanding officer’s number. Like Charlie he answered immediately.
I said, “I’m outside the block. Is the perp inside?”
“No one’s entered since we arrived. But he could have got there before us. However, two of my men have removed tiles from the roof and are hiding in the loft. They’ve located the hatch and as soon as you give the go-ahead they’ll be inside in seconds.”
I glanced up to the roof of the three-storey building. Scaling the building was do-able, but precarious. “I’ve got a set of bump keys. I’ll be in like Flynn[26].” Chief Superintendent Leeke had given me his own set along with a warning that I should be careful they didn’t end up in the wrong hands.
“Huh huh!” The commando, a man of few words, was familiar with the device that according to Charlie opened any lock in seconds. “Are you carrying?”
“Natch.”
“Good, surprise will be on our side.”
“I’m banking on that. Did Leeke inform you it’s essential we take the bastard alive? I don’t want your men shooting at him.”
“He did and they won’t. They might rough him up a bit.”
“Tell them to stand in line.”
* * *
Charlie gave me a crash course in the art of picking a lock when he’d handed over his set of bump keys and the small hammer that was an essential part of the kit. His bull terrier face was a picture when I jagged it on my first attempt, but he didn’t know I’d been a teenage hoon with a criminal record for car theft. And I wasn’t about to unburden my conscience to an upright career cop.
Based on how well I’d acquitted myself at the demo, I felt confident as I inserted the key into the lock on the perp’s front door. I pulled it back one pin position. Then using my index finger, I pressed down ever so slightly on the key, and struck the curved part with the bump hammer. According to Charlie, striking the key at the right angle was the tricky part; the blow had to be from directly above.
I had no luck with the first two keys on the ring. As I fumbled with the third, I didn’t feel as cocksure, particularly as my back was to the lift and I’d be at a disadvantage if the architect of the plot found me on my knees picking the lock to his door. Not that I couldn’t handle myself if it came to a stoush. As a cadet I’d belonged to the Air Force’s boxing team and was confident of subduing the bastard, but not if he was armed. And I’d bet my wings, he was.
My hands shook like an alcoholic’s with a bad case of the DTs as I slipped the third key in the lock. Under my breath, I repeated the prayer I said before taking off on a combat mission. I’d notched up more air-to-air kills than anyone else in my squadron and I hadn’t bought it. And so when the pins jumped and the key turned on my next attempt, I mouthed, Thanks Big Guy.
I withdrew my gun from its concealed carry holster and cautiously opened the door. For all I knew, Beth’s assailant could be inside. An empty space greeted me. I assumed I’d beat him back, but I wasn’t taking any chances. There’s no faster way to end up in a body bag than by making assumptions. This had been drummed into my head by the officer in charge of training at the Air Academy, a respected veteran with nine combat missions under his belt.
Warily, I moved around the apartment opening doors. When I was satisfied the perp hadn’t returned, I barked, “All clear, guys, you can come on down.”
I found Beth in the pantry. I’d never seen such relief on anyone’s face when I flipped the light switch. Her legs and hands were bound, the latter at the front. She was wearing a padded anorak over track pants. Her hair was a tangled mass of frizz, her blotchy freckles stood out in her tear-stained face. She looked as young and vulnerable as she did when I found her entombed in a sealed-up cave.
“M-mo, thank God.” Her voice was hoarse.” I heard someone moving around. I th-thought Karim had come back.”
As the brother of younger sisters, I’d learnt that sympathy invariably led to tears. I adopted a matter-of-fact tone while doing my best to control the imminent onset of a Moby. I didn’t often get into a rage but when I did, it was equalled only by the fury of the Great White Whale.
“You’re safe now. It’s all over. I’ll have you free in a jiffy,” I said crouching down and tugging at the knot that bound her hands.”
“Over!” she screeched. “What about Annie and the other guests, the heads of state ... the royal family?”
“All taken care of ... the ceremony’s been cancelled, everyone attending has been advised and...”
“Everything’s taken care of,” she screeched. “What about Annie? There’s a bomb inside her and it could go off at any moment.”
“Try not to panic. It won’t go off until someone calls the cell’s number and that won’t happen until 6:15 when she’s scheduled to present the bouquet. Once we get the number out of Karim the cell phone will be disconnected.”
Her eyes flashed in the way I remembered of old. “What are you, an instant expert?”
Beth had always underestimated me. But now was not the time to brag that I was in charge of the Australian surveillance program, particularly as she didn’t know she was under investigation. I took a deep breath. “Keep still can’t you or I’ll never get this undone.”
“Can I be of any help, Sir,” said a broad Aussie voice.
I turned to face a burly guy in a navy track suit and Nike trainers who was holding out a Swiss knife. “Thanks. That bastard really knows how to tie a knot.”
His knife made short work of Beth’s bonds. I helped her to her feet. She grimaced and hung on to me. “Can you stand?”
“I don’t think so.”
I carried her over to the sofa. She was feather light and hardly weighed more than the pint-sized shrimp she’d been at sixteen. Through her jeans her legs were stick thin. As I massaged life into them, I said, “Rub your hands together to increase the blood flow to your hands and fingers.”
Beth began wriggling her fingers. “Who are they?” she asked eyeballing the two commandos dressed in typical blokey clobber[27].
“SAS commandos, Miss,” said the guy who’d lent me his knife. “We’re trained in counter-terrorist operations. Trust me; your sister won’t come to any harm. If a bomb can be inserted into a body cavity, it can be removed just as easily.”
Beth attempted a smile. “That’s reassuring but I can’t help...”
A phone ringing silenced her. The commando took out his cell. After a one-sided conversation that lasted less than ten seconds, he turned to me. “A man matching the identity of the suspect has entered the building. Better get the young woman out of harm’s way.”
* * *
A couple of minutes later, the front door opened, and a dark-complexioned man in a white lab coat carrying a leather bag in one hand and a set of keys in the other stepped into the room. He wasn’t anything like the fanatical terrorist I’d built up in my mind. Nor was he the kind of guy I thought Beth would fall for. He stopped up short when he saw us, his eyes widened and his mouth literally fell open. Faced with three armed men he gave in without a fight. I was disappointed. I was looking forward to kicking the shit out of him.
The sergeant, who’d introduced himself as Caleb Wilson, was tying the prisoner to a dining room chair with the same crepe bandage the swine had used to hog-tie Beth, when she burst from the bedroom. Her eyes were blazing as she told the prick exactly what she thought of him. At the end of her tirade a gloating smile appeared on her face. “You thought you were so clever didn’t you. Hard luck ... all your plans have come to nothing. The function’s been cancelled, a surgical team will take the bomb out of Annie and as for you, you treacherous bastard...”
Karim interrupted her, an expression of horror on his face. “Removing a body cavity bomb is a more complicated procedure than inserting one. Unless it’s removed by a specialist medical team, your sister could die on the operating table. As far as I know, no one in Australia has the expertise to perform the operation.”
