The Pilbara Affair

By Drew Lindsay

The Pilbara in the searing heat of barren Western Australia is not a place for the faint hearted. Billions of dollars are made from mining iron ore for sale to the world. Who would care if two Aboriginal men are murdered so that someone can get their hands on a mine owned by a beautiful widow? Ex Police Detective Ben Hood ends up in the middle of a brutal family war which plunges him into The Pilbara Affair.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Lindsay
• Release date: Sep 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311130976

Drew Lindsay

Drew Lindsay is a dynamic Australian Novelist and Writer. He has travelled extensively throughout Australia and the world. His background includes working as a Policeman and detective, then managing his own private investigation business as well as working in Fraud Investigation Management positions within the insurance industry.Drew is a PADI Divemaster and holds a private pilot's license. He has a great love of entertaining others with his vivid imagination. His novels allow the reader to escape into worlds of romance, excitement, humour and fast paced adventure. Drew lives in northern New South Wales with his wife.

Book preview

The Pilbara Affair

Ben Hood Thriller Number 18

By Drew Lindsay

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © Drew Lindsay 2014

All rights reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be produced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior permission of the author of this book.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various places/products referenced in this work of fiction which have been used without permission and is by no way sponsored by the trademark owners.

Acknowledgements

This one is for Bill and Irene Williams

Thank you to Narelle for the proofing and formatting this book.

Thank you to Barbara for proofing.

Thank you to Anthi from Brandaid for the wonderful cover.

http://www.brandaidstore.com/en/home

Max…my special friend and constant companion of my son Lloyd, is fondly remembered.

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Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This eBook is licenced for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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ALSO BY DREW LINDSAY

All books are available from eRetailers worldwide

Coral Sea Affair

Ben Hood Thriller Number 1

Black Mountain Affair

Ben Hood Thriller Number 2

Flesh Traders

Ben Hood Thriller Number 3

The Dead Woman’s House

Ben Hood Thriller Number 4

The Men’s Club

Ben Hood Thriller Number 5

The Dark Affair

Ben Hood Thriller Number 6

An Explosive Affair

Ben Hood Thriller Number 7

A Lost Lady

Ben Hood Thriller Number 8

Treasure

Ben Hood Thriller Number 9

Charlotte’s Fear

Ben Hood Thriller Number 10

Dying in Paradise

Ben Hood Thriller Number 11

Disorganised Crime

Ben Hood Thriller Number 12

Atomic Blonde

Ben Hood Thriller Number 13

Gone

Ben Hood Thriller Number 14

Subterranean

Ben Hood Thriller Number 15

Island Magic

Ben Hood Thriller Number 16

South Pacific Affair

Ben Hood Thriller Number 17

To learn more about Drew Lindsay, visit him online at

http://www.drew-lindsay.com/

Or at his Facebook page

http://www.facebook.com/drew-lindsay-author

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CHAPTER ONE

Prior to the formal establishment of Port Hedland off the coast of Western Australia in 1880, one may have been forgiven for speculating that white people would never venture there. Aboriginals had been living around this area for more than 40,000 years so the experts say, using common sense, respecting the often hidden natural resources this otherwise barren place afforded, abiding by a strict code of social conduct and a simple but sustainable lifestyle. European people eventually moved into the area known today as the Pilbara and their ever increasing settlements and influence effectively eradicated the previously untouched Aboriginal lifestyle and population. The Aboriginals claim that the term Pilbara comes from the Nyamal and Banyjima Aboriginal languages and was originally pronounced bilybara, meaning dry. The Europeans claim that the Pilbara is the Aboriginal word for the fish called a mullet. Many Aboriginals continue to resent the European invasion of the Pilbara. The police stationed in this remote area are often the target of hate and aggression. On occasions they have given back as good as they got and were immediately accused of police brutality and racial discrimination. Police were certainly equipped to hit back more effectively than those who usually in a drunken state, sought to vent their rage against the white invaders. Some police officers were clearly out of line and immediately transferred back to Perth or had their employment terminated if that was warranted. The plight of Aboriginal people in many cases in the Pilbara today is sad and depressing. Politicians and do-gooders from everywhere throw money and resources at what they consider is the problem but they seem to just not get the fact that a once proud and self-sufficient race of people were forced to endure changes that adversely affected every part of their existence and being. They were forced to adapt to radical changes imposed upon them and the land that supported their existence, and they couldn’t.

Jackson West didn’t care about this anymore. Jackson is Aboriginal and a descendent of the Nyamal clan. He once had very strong views about the European invasion of his land and had been arrested several times in protests that got well out of hand. Perhaps it would be more correct to say that Jackson was Aboriginal. Now he is simply dead. Once the body of a person begins to decay and is finally returned to the earth, does their spirit remain Aboriginal or European or Egyptian? If we all end up in an afterlife, are we as segregated as we chose to be when alive on earth? Does God put all the various cults and religions into different parts of afterlife land so they won’t fight and throw things at each other…if there is anything to actually throw in afterlife land?

Jackson West was well beyond contemplating these matters with his brain because birds had already picked their way through his eyeballs and reached some of the decaying grey matter of his brain. His body was lying face up in the red dirt of the Pilbara desert, well away from the highway and amongst a clump of rocks that totally concealed him from anyone driving on the highway that may for whatever reason, glance in the direction of that particular clump of rocks.

Jackson West had worked for Peter and Angela Bode at the Princess Mine for almost 4 years. He wasn’t highly qualified but he knew his job as a dry blower machine operator at the mine and had successfully delivered huge amounts of gold to his employer during the last 4 years. He also knew how to operate the machines that retrieved iron ore from the ground. The Princess Mine had originally commenced operations to extract iron ore. Then they stumbled over more lucrative precious metals from beneath the dry arid earth of the Pilbara.

Jackson had his hands tied behind his back and there was a small hole in the right side of his temple where he had been shot. He didn’t care about the conflicts between whites and blacks any more. Care relates to emotion and emotion relates to brain patterns and impulses. Jackson had lost all of that activity 3 days before.

Ex Detective Sergeant Ben Hood sat comfortably in the leather chair and looked at his employer, Rodney Reid. They were in Rodney’s office which was part of his home in Castle Hill, a middle class suburb of western Sydney. Ben had elected to work for Rodney as a VIP protection agent once he left the police force. This work had rapidly escalated into investigations concerning missing persons, national security and international crime inquiries. Ben was independently wealthy enough to retire at the tender age of 52 but Rodney continued to drag him back into other assignments with a variety of enticements including the lure of easy money and encounters with voluptuous women. Ben was to the point where neither posed a major attraction to him…well perhaps the voluptuous women were of some interest.

Ben’s physical appearance and stamina were fuelled by self imposed and often brutal workouts with his mentor and world acclaimed Ninjutu trainer, Akira Misaki. He also pushed his body in a very primitive but highly effective home gym in his semi-rural home west of Windsor, about an hour and a half drive from Sydney. He also ran country roads. Kilometre after kilometre. He was divorced and lived alone. He was forced to retire from the police force and he wasn’t just going to sit and look at four walls every day. Words from the song Time so emotionally cried from the mouth of David Bowie filled his mind regularly.

‘I won’t lie to you,’ said Rodney.

‘That’s a first.’

‘This one has some complications.’

‘No shit. Go on?’

Rodney locked his fingers together and sat back in the luxurious leather chair behind his desk. ‘We have a woman in genuine distress.’

‘Aren’t they all,’ said Ben.

‘No this one is in a real pickle,’ said Rodney.

‘According to you they end up in more of a pickle when I turn up,’ said Ben.

‘Let’s not dwell on the past.’

‘I’ve got damn scars that assist me in having difficulty forgetting the past,’ said Ben.

‘Simple flesh wounds,’ said Rodney. ‘You’re paid well. I had my right foot amputated over 10 years ago because of a traffic accident and do you hear me groaning about that?’

Ben leaned forward in his chair. ‘Your lovely wife and accomplished surgeon amputated your foot because you were drunk and dopey enough to allow some fuckwit to run over your leg while you were fooling about with four wheel drive vehicles.’

‘A minor point,’ said Rodney, picking up a pen and tapping it against his teeth.

‘I’ve been shot at, stabbed, spiked, beaten up, blown up and almost drowned because of your damn assignments.’

‘The near drowning was your fault entirely. I tried to dissuade you from taking that assignment.’

Ben sat back and crossed his right leg over his left knee. Rodney dropped the pen and ran a hand over his almost bald head. ‘You’ve met some nice ladies along the way.’

‘Yes,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll admit that there have been some very nice women here and there.’

‘Here and there my arse! They’re crawling all over you or you over them. It’s hard to determine.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘The Tongan beauty queen for example,’ said Rodney.

‘I didn’t sleep with her.’

‘That’s because you were fraternising with a woman sent to harm you and our client and you end up screwing her and sending her to work for me!’

‘Are you disappointed with her?’

‘That’s not the point,’ said Rodney.

‘Are you disappointed with her?’ Ben repeated.

‘Of course not. She’s bloody amazing with the clients.’

‘Then send her to do this job,’ said Ben. ‘I need a break.’

‘Have you ever been to the Pilbara?’

‘No,’ said Ben.

‘I hear it’s nice there this time of the year.’

‘It’s an iron ore mining area in the middle of the bloody desert in the middle of nowhere in Western Australia,’ said Ben.

‘Mr. Lang Hancock didn’t think so, or his daughter Gina who now runs his mining empire.’

‘Lang and his daughter have more money to play with than we will ever dream about,’ said Ben.

‘Lang doesn’t need the money anymore,’ said Rodney.

Ben was silent for a moment. ‘Funny how death has a way of taking every last cent out of your fingers.’

‘And leaving it for the family to fight about,’ said Rodney.

‘Your point being?’

‘The assignment involves a mini Lang Hancock situation only in this case there have been death threats, a missing stepdaughter and now a missing Aboriginal employee from the mine.’

‘So it’s worse than the Hancock situation?’

‘That would be a fair statement,’ said Rodney.

‘And you want me to go there and sort it out?’

‘Angela Bode feels that she needs personal protection for her and her only remaining stepdaughter and she has asked us to provide an operative.’

‘Use Claudia and Susan.’

‘No,’ said Rodney. ‘She wants you.’

Ben uncrossed his legs. ‘I’ve got to have a tooth out.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with your bloody teeth.’

‘Then I need a gall bladder removed…whatever it takes here.’

‘Have you seen a photograph of Angela Bode?’

Ben stood and walked to the door. He turned and faced Rodney. ‘Okay, you roped me into the last job with a photograph of a Miss South Pacific contender. I’m not falling for that one again.’

‘It’s just Angela Bode,’ said Rodney, sliding an A4 photograph out of his file.

‘With her husband and stepchildren?’ asked Ben.

‘Her husband died over a year ago. Her eldest stepdaughter went missing around the same time and has vanished without a trace.’

Ben held up both hands in the stop position. ‘Don’t do this to me again Rod.’

‘Just take a tiny peek at her. If she’s not to your liking, walk away.’

‘You can’t use this totally unscrupulous method to entice me to take up your bloody assignments!’

‘Her husband left everything to her in his will,’ said Rodney. ‘The husband’s two sons have engaged lawyers and are attempting to take everything away from her. The eldest son of her husband is himself a hot shot lawyer from Perth. He has become the chief intimidator of our prospective client.’

‘The boys were obviously not mentioned in the will?’

‘It appears that they and their father did not get on,’ said Rodney.

‘How old is Angela?’ asked Ben.

‘Thirty seven.’

‘That’s almost 40.’

‘Three years shy,’ said Rodney.

Ben took a few steps towards Rodney’s desk. ‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt to just take a quick glance at her photograph.’

‘Up to you,’ said Rodney with a grin.

‘You are a total arsehole.’

‘No pressure whatsoever here my friend,’ said Rodney, sliding the photograph of Angela Bode across the desk.

Ben took another step forward and stopped. He looked at the woman with short blond hair and a low cut black top. It was obviously a professional shot as she was looking away from the camera with a smile on her extraordinary beautiful face. ‘She’s not 37.’

‘Cross my heart,’ said Rodney.

‘She’s got brown eyebrows,’ said Ben. ‘She’s dyed her hair.’

‘She’s got bright blue eyes just like yours,’ said Rodney.

Ben picked up the photograph. ‘Nice teeth.’

‘Yes, that’s important,’ said Rodney. ‘Of course an 80 year old can have nice teeth these days but you wouldn’t know if she soaked them in a glass of fizzy water beside her bed each night, would you?’

Ben dropped the photograph back onto the desk. He looked at Rodney. ‘You’re disgusting.’

‘I can book you on a flight tomorrow if you like.’

‘Chartered jet thank you. You’ve got the number because I’ve used them before.’

‘Ben! Think of the costs!’

‘She’s a millionaire, right?’

‘Well…yes,’ said Rodney.

‘Chartered jet direct to Port Hedland.’

Rodney put both hands to his head. ‘Is there special wine or food to be requested for your flight sir?’

Ben sat down on the chair and leaned forward. ‘Now we’re talking.’

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CHAPTER TWO

The Pilbara looks quite beautiful from the air. The landscape is various shades of red earth with low scrub patches and the occasional low mountain range. Following rain, wildflowers abound in some areas and the otherwise dry creek beds are swollen with water. On the ground the Pilbara can be quite challenging and often dangerous. Water can be impossible to locate in the dry season and some of the roads are rutted and brutal to negotiate by vehicle. In the wet season, the desert roads can be a nightmare to drive on other than in specially prepared all terrain vehicles. River beds can be impossible to cross because of the gushing water. Cyclones are reasonably common and cause devastation on a wide scale. Close to the coast and in the lakes and waterways there is the additional problem of crocodiles.

Numerous iron ore mines are in operation throughout the Pilbara and Ben could easily pick some of them out from his seat in the private jet. These huge mines are connected by rail links that run back to the coast and terminate at the huge tanker loading terminals at Port Hedland and other coastal terminals along the Pilbara coast. Many of the mines are hundreds of kilometres from the coast and huge convoys of diesel electric locomotives dragging iron ore containers stretching back more than 2 kilometres traverse the railway systems almost around the clock.

The Hawker 900XP jet commenced descent about 20 minutes from Port Hedland international airport. The captain advised Ben to strap in and prepare for some turbulence on the way down due to heat rising from the sun- scorched ground. The landing was bumpy and in a crosswind but the pilot was obviously experienced and touched down quite gently under the circumstances. The first officer opened the main door and lowered the stairs to the