Cooee: Mike Browne Detective Escape to Hamburg

By Lon Scott

Doctor Richard Mason, a renowned scientist, has made a revolutionary discovery, but before he can complete his work news of his discovery sweeps the world. An assassination in London has all the earmarks of a professional killer and a large pharmaceutical company based in Hamburg becomes the focus of an investigation by Detective Mike Browne.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781922204196

Book preview

Epilogue

Cooee

Towns spreading far and cities that grew,

Places so barren that nobody knew.

Rivers that flow but often were dry,

Waiting for rain, hopes remain high.

Fortune for some but many did strive,

Hearts of the brave live and survive.

A sense of belonging our history is young,

Our anthem is new and our children have sung.

Heroes have come and shown us the way,

We go on together to laugh and to pray.

And try as we might our efforts won’t fail,

Our country of riches will always prevail.

From a poem written by Lon Scott – A Country of Riches

Cooee is an expression used to attract attention. The call when done correctly produces a loud shrill sound that carries over long distances. It can be used to indicate one’s own location or to find missing people.

Cooee originates from the Dharuk language: the Aboriginal people that lived on the east coast of New South Wales before white colonisation. Its meaning: come here was used by the Aborigines.

The word is recognised as an important part of demonstrating Australian nationality.

Cooee

Prologue

New South Wales

26 February 2000

Achilling screech, followed by a flash of sparks cascaded into the black of night. Out of control, the light blue sedan crashed through the guardrail and down the embankment and with a horrendous force slammed into the trunk of a hundred year-old eucalypt tree, one of many in the Melinga Molong Gully that feeds into the Woronora River south of Sydney. The sound of the crash echoed momentarily penetrating the ambience, and the mangled mass of metal lay dormant succumbed by the forces of nature. Droplets of rainwater from the branches above bounced dance-like on the crumbled wreckage, the surrounding under-growth saturated from the rain that had been falling throughout the day.

Then, in the darkness, a beam of light from a torch pierced the moist night air in search of the driver. The beam penetrated the driver’s side window; blood was visible on the dashboard, the driver lying motionless slumped across the steering wheel. The driver’s door was yanked open and the driver pulled from the wreckage.

Chapter 1

24 December 1999

Coloured lights shone brightly in the window of a cream texture brick home in a quiet suburban street south of Sydney. Other homes in the street bore evidence of the festive period decorated with an array of Christmas memorabilia.

Inside the cream brick home, Irene Mason was quietly preparing for tomorrow’s celebrations.

What time in the morning will Christine be here? asked Richard Mason.

About ten, replied Irene, but we better be prepared. You know what children can be like on Christmas morning.

I remember. Did you want me to cut some ham?

Yes please. Irene Mason was going over in her mind the events of the next day. How many times had she prepared lunch for her family on Christmas Day, too many to remember? Both her daughters were married with children. She remembered the excitement her daughters showed when they were little, now it was her grandchildren who filled her home with laughter and excitement. She loved every minute, especially seeing her grandchildren’s faces when they pulled the wrapping paper from their presents.

Have you spoken to Anne? asked Richard.

Yes. She said it was freezing.

It always is this time of the year in Canada. How’s our little grandson coping with the cold? He must be close to walking by now.

He’s still trying. I can’t wait to see him. Can you reach those plates for me?

Richard stretched and took out a bunch of plates from the top cupboard. Are these new?

No, we used them last Christmas, don’t you remember?

Vaguely. By the way, is Aunty Enid coming tomorrow?

You know she is.

God help us.

You be nice to her, she thinks a lot of you.

She just never stops talking.

It’s not often you see her and promise me you won’t put ear plugs in like you did last year.

Hey, that was brilliant on my part. Now, where have I put them?

I threw them away.

I know, but I bought some more.

Richard, please.

Okay, I’ll do my best, but if she corners me…

There’s the doorbell, said Irene. Richard stopped what he was doing and went to the front door.

Hey Dicky boy, I told you I’d call in for a drink.

Come in Noel. I never doubted you for a moment.

Not when it comes to having a good time. Where’s Irene?

In the kitchen come on through.

Hey gorgeous, you look better every time I see you.

Hello Noel, Richard mentioned you might drop by. How have you been?

Better than Neil Diamond on a hot August night. Hey, I’ve got a bottle of your favourite white. Grab some glasses Dicky.

Where are you spending Christmas day? asked Irene.

I’ll see Mum in the morning then I’m going to my son’s place for lunch.

How is your mum?

Not good. She can’t remember much. Last week when I called into the nursing home she thought I was Rudolf Nureyev.

Who? said Richard.

The ballet dancer, said Irene. You know.

I know who he is; I just can’t fathom why anyone would put Rudolf and Noel on the same page.

And why not? said Noel quizzical.

Your stomach for beginners, Richard said laughing.

Watch it.

That’s enough, said Irene. Have you had dinner, Noel? she asked.

I grabbed a burger at McDonalds. You know those cheeseburgers aren’t real bad.

Would you like some of this?

What is it?

My special Christmas pudding, tell me what you think.

Noel spooned a piece. Hey, not bad.

I’ll give you some to take home.

It was ten-thirty when Noel left. He hopped into a taxi singing Jingle Bells. As the taxi drove off Irene said, Do you think Noel misses Kate?

I don’t know, replied Richard. He hardly ever talks about her.

It’s sad when two people who have been in love separate.

Well, that’s one thing I know for sure, it’ll never happen to us.

Irene smiled warmly. Come on, I’ve got a bit more wrapping to do.

***

Christmas Day was the usual joyous occasion. There was a plentiful supply of food; presents were exchanged with heaps of attention being directed to the grandchildren. A phone call came through from Canada, and Irene burst into tears of joy during a lengthy conversation with her youngest daughter.

Aunty Enid collared Richard, but to his credit Richard kept the earplugs in his pocket. There was a short break in the afternoon when the house was void of family members. Around six-thirty in the evening friends started calling in, and the celebrations continued. Irene and Richard crawled into bed at midnight, exhausted.

The next day began with a sleep in, followed by a thorough clean up. After lunch Irene sat quietly reading some of the cards she had received for Christmas. Richard appeared. All done, he said. Don’t let me forget to put out the garbage.

What time did you want to leave tomorrow? asked Irene.

There’s no hurry. After breakfast, say nine, nine-thirty.

Do you think we’ll get much traffic?

A bit, but we’re in no hurry.

Another Christmas over, they come and go much too quick.

That’s the worry of growing old.

I do hope Anne will be here next Christmas.

So do I. Have you made up your mind about our trip in August?

I think so.

And?

I’m happy to go as long as it’s no longer than three weeks.

Good. I’ll make the booking when we get back from Ulladulla.

Have you packed? asked Irene.

No, I’ll do it this afternoon, it won’t take long. Let’s see – shorts, T-shirts, thongs, golf clubs, fishing rod…

You’ll need more than that.

My hat and I can’t wait to try out my new rod. I’m gonna hook the biggest flathead you’ve ever seen.

I can hardly wait, Irene replied smiling. And don’t forget the prawn net.

I won’t. I hear there’s a heap of prawns being netted in Lake Tabourie.

Chapter 2

Police Headquarters Sydney

Detective Mike Browne was back at work after only three days off. Christmas Day had been the usual – too much eating and drinking. Boxing Day was the same. And the day after was supposed to be his day to relax, but his two children had other ideas, so he spent a hot December day on Maroubra beach. Oh well, you’re only young once, not that he was young any more with a fortieth birthday looming.

How was your Christmas? asked Dennis Walton, Mike’s partner.

Hectic, and I think I’ve put on a few pounds. How was yours?

The same. Have you seen Frank? asked Walton.

He’s not coming in today.

How come we get to be here and he’s not.

He’s the boss. Did you hear about the stabbing?

Last night in the Cross. I heard two teenagers ended up in hospital.

One in a serious condition. The uniform boys followed up on a lead and arrested a male in his teens. He’s being held downstairs.

Are we gonna question him?

I’m waiting for his lawyer to arrive, he won’t say anything without him.

So what started it?

A brawl erupted in a nightclub and continued outside in the street. Just a bad case of too many drinks and plenty of testosterone.

Kids, when will they learn?

Hey Mike!

Yeah.

There’s a lawyer out here, says he’s here for the interview with the lockup.

Okay. Come on Dennis.

***

It had been a long day and Mike Browne was going over in his mind the day’s events as he headed for home. The traffic wasn’t heavy as he adjusted the sun visor. He glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard… 6:35. With daylight saving it wouldn’t be dark for another two hours. He thought about the young man that was arrested for the stabbing. He couldn’t help thinking how young teenage boys can ruin their life by a stupid act, he had seen it before and no doubt would see it again… too much alcohol.

Mike pulled into his driveway, locked his car and went inside.

How was your day? Pamela Browne asked as Mike came into the kitchen.

Too long. I think the last few days have sneaked up on me. Where are the kids?

Tommy’s outside kicking a ball. I think Cindy’s still on the toilet. Can you check?

Mike walked into the downstairs bathroom. Hello Princess. Cindy was washing her hands – Mike thought probably for the umpteenth time.

Daddy, do birds fly backwards?

Have you ever seen a bird flying backwards?

No, but Tommy said they do.

Maybe Tommy was referring to the Hummingbird; they can fly backwards.

What do they look like Daddy?

Very small with a long bill. They live in another country. Have you finished washing your hands?

Cindy turned off the tap and started wiping her hands dry.

Come on, let’s have a look in the encyclopedia, there’s sure to be a picture of a Hummingbird.

Mike walked into the lounge room and picked out the encyclopedia from a bookshelf; the phone started ringing. I’ll get it, he said out loud so Pamela could hear him.

Browne. The voice was gruff.

That’s right, who’s this?

The terminator.

Who? Mike didn’t recognise the voice.

You heard scum bag and I’m comin’ to get ya.

Go away little man.

I’ll go away when I’m finished with you.

I don’t have time for this. Mike put down the phone. He thought for a moment. It wasn’t unusual for a man in his position to get threatening phone calls. It came with the job. This one unnerved him some. He didn’t know why, maybe it was the tone. Just put it out of your mind, he thought, just another prank call.

Who was on the phone? Pamela asked as Mike walked into the kitchen holding the encyclopedia.

Wrong number. How many m’s in Hummingbird?

Two. Can you do that after dinner? And sing out to Tommy.

Later that evening Mike and Pamela sat together on the lounge watching TV. It was late and the kids were in bed. Pamela said quietly, The phone call wasn’t a wrong number, was it?

What makes you say that?

You seem a bit on edge. Who was it?

I don’t know, some joker trying to scare me, just a prank call. It’s not the first and it won’t be the last.

What did he say?

Nothing much, don’t worry about it.

But I am worried, I don’t want anything to happen to you.

It won’t, I promise. People like that are cowards and that’s why they make anonymous phone calls. It’s unlikely he’ll call again.

Please be careful, Mike.

I always am, you know that. It’s getting late, are you ready for bed?

Chapter 3

Gavin Kirkwood was angry; he had been for most of his life. From the first time he belted another kid at school, to the time he fought for his life in gaol, Kirkwood carried a chip on his shoulder.

He left school at fifteen and left home a year later. By the time he was twenty-three he had been to gaol twice: once for robbing a tobacco shop and then for car stealing. The police knew him as a repeat offender, so when a robbery took place in a liquor store and Kirkwood’s fingerprints were found he ended up in gaol again, this time for five years. He was twenty-five.

Kirkwood was released on parole eighteen months before his sentence was due to expire. It didn’t take him long to find his way back to the bottom and seven months following his release he took part in a robbery that resulted in the death of an armed guard. And even though Gavin Kirkwood didn’t pull the trigger that killed the guard he was sentenced to fifteen years behind bars, twelve without parole. The arresting officer was Detective Mike Browne and Kirkwood vowed he would get his revenge. For twelve years he thought of nothing else, and now he was ready to carry out his promise.

Gavin Kirkwood was released from Goulburn Gaol, a high security complex situated in the southern highlands of New South Wales, four days before Christmas. He was on probation, but that didn’t stop him a week later from making the phone call that had occupied his mind for twelve years.

Prick! Kirkwood thought hanging up the phone. He walked back to the bar and ordered a drink. Gin and tonic, he said, with a slice of lime and plenty of ice. He thought about what Browne had said, Go away little man. We’ll see who is the little man.

Chapter 4

New Year’s Eve is celebrated all around the world with laughter, entertainment, good food, plenty to drink and fireworks. From New York to Paris, Tokyo to Melbourne, spectacular displays of exploding potassium nitrate, charcoal and sulphur, light up the sky to the delight of huge audiences.

In Sydney, the display is launched from floating barges on the harbour as well as the Harbour Bridge; in New York large crowds view displays from Staten Island, Brooklyn and Central Park; the Paris spectacular can be watched from under the Eiffel Tower and in Tokyo masses view the display from the Tokyo Tower.

In London, people gather in restaurants and along the River Thames to watch the entertainment. Chief Inspector Bryce Flanagan of Scotland Yard watched the display on television. He knew the pleasure it brought to many people, but he also knew there was always a downside. Too much celebrating would result in casualties across the city of London and the night would have more than its fair share of crime. But what he wasn’t expecting was an assassination.

Bryce Flanagan banged his fist on the desktop. It was New Year’s Day and he was hoping to spend the day with his wife. Instead, he had been called into headquarters following a shooting near Hyde Park. I need results, Vince. Word has come down from the top. If we don’t find the son-of-a-bitch heads will roll.

He’s probably left the country by now. He’s a pro Bryce. How many has he racked up? Six in the last three years, that we know about.

What was Winterbottom doing at that ungodly hour?

He jogged through the park every morning between six and seven.

You’d think he would’ve given New Year’s Day a miss. Pity he didn’t. And the hotel clerk, he can’t give us a description?

Scatty at best and most probably one of his many disguises.

What about the room he was in where he fired the weapon, surely he left something we can go on?

Only the butterfly.

Same as the others?

A Parnassius Apollo. There’s no doubt, the shooter was Apollo.

Well, we need to come up with something. The PM has given me forty-eight hours, he wants some answers.

I didn’t think Winterbottom was a favourite of the PM.

He wasn’t, but when a member of parliament gets assassinated it threatens everyone in the government. Have we put out an alert with Interpol?

Went out this morning. There was something the hotel clerk said, but I doubt if it will be much help.

"What was it?’

The clerk asked Apollo if he knew anything about trout fishing. Apparently the clerk is about to go on a holiday. Anyway, Apollo mentioned Lake Bodensee.

There might be some value. Check to see if there were any unsolved murders in the vicinity in the past ten years.

There was a knock on Flanagan’s door. Chief, there’s a fellow out here who wants to see you, claims he’s related to our victim.

Who is he?

Beau Winterbottom; says he’s the nephew.

Okay, I’ll come out. Take another look at the crime scene Vince, I need something. I better see what Winterbottom wants.

Chapter 5

Detective Mike Browne was heading along Anzac Avenue close to the Sydney Cricket Ground on his way to work. The New Year had arrived with the usual