Kill Them

By Drew Lindsay

Swimsuit models gather at a resort in Broome, Western Australia. A young Aboriginal girl is brutally raped in sand dunes close by. Ben Hood is hired to offer protection to the swimsuit crew. Islamic State fanatics decide to launch a deadly attack on the models. A secret government squad is dispatched to neutralise the I.S. plot. There is obviously going to be a deadly collision course with Ben right in the middle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Lindsay
• Release date: Mar 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310200939

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

CHAPTER ONE

‘Shhh. You don’t need to cry any more. You’re safe with us and there is a policeman outside your door.’

The young Aboriginal woman sobbed quietly in her bed at the Broome Base Hospital, Western Australia. Senior Constable Penny Mackay stepped back and looked at the woman curled into a coma position underneath a thin white sheet. ‘You just push that button if you need anything,’ said Penny.

‘With my right hand?’ whispered the Aboriginal girl.

‘No. You have to push the button with the fingers of your left hand.’

‘Yes,’ said the girl in barely a horse whisper. ‘They chopped off one of the fingers on my right hand, didn’t they?’

‘Yes my darling but you are still alive.’

‘Am I?’

‘Of course you are and you will get better, I promise.’

‘You still have all the fingers on your right hand, don’t you Constable Penny?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where is my finger?’

‘We’ll find it Lois.’

‘Do you think they threw it in a bin somewhere?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Senior Constable Mackay. ‘Police are searching the area where you were found.’

‘In the sand dunes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where they raped me?’

‘Yes.’

‘They might have thrown it into the sea,’ said the Aboriginal girl. ‘The sharks might have eaten my finger.’

‘You hush now,’ said Mackay, backing away from the bed. ‘I’ll come and see you in the morning.’ The police constable pushed open the door and escaped into the hospital corridor. She leaned back against the green coloured wall and took a few deep breaths. A male uniformed police constable stood watching her from the opposite side of the corridor. Senior Constable Penny Mackay looked at him. ‘If anyone gets into that room and causes more harm to that girl, I’ll personally have your balls on a chopping board.’

‘Yes sir,’ said the constable with a slight grin.

‘You know me Daryl. This wasn’t just a rape. No one goes near that girl.’

‘I get it,’ said Constable Daryl Patel. ‘Detective Inspector Simpson has given me strict instructions.’

‘Just make sure those instructions stick firmly in your mind and the mind of anyone who relieves you to guard her.’

‘I get it,’ said Constable Patel. ‘I might be Indian but I grew up in Australia. Don’t treat me like an idiot.’

‘Then guard that Aboriginal girl with your life.’

‘I’ll do what I’m paid to do. My orders are from Detective Inspector Simpson. If you have a problem with me, take it up with him.’

Penny Mackay glared at the tall uniformed policeman and then strode out of the hospital.

A few kilometres north of the Cable Beach Resort in Broome, four large mansions faced the Indian Ocean across thick, manicured scrubland and a white sandy beach beyond. They were Broome style mansions, constructed of specially treated corrugated iron with thick roof and wall insulation and state of the art air conditioning run on solar and battery power. The exclusive resort buildings were surrounded by palm trees and thick tropical plants. Electric cars conveyed guests to the restaurant at the nearby Cable Beach Resort at guest request. Room service at the mansions was just a phone call away. The mansions were called Ocean Hideaway although they were so much more exclusive and expensive than the nearby Cable Beach Resort and hardly a hideaway.

‘It’s too late Eric. We can’t cancel things now.’ Sandy Wickham flicked back a strand of long blond hair from her beautiful face and changed the phone to her other ear. ‘Everything is set to go and half the cast and crew have arrived. It was just a grubby Aboriginal girl who got raped in the sand dunes. The whole thing will be over in a jiffy.’

‘No No No. This has all gone belly up Sandy. I can’t make a film with beautiful girls competing for the cover of the world’s most prestigious swimsuit magazine in a place where someone has been raped. Milba Berry has bought into it and the press love her.’

‘Calm down Eric. Milba will give us additional press coverage for God’s sake!’

‘Are you crazy? She’s going ape and she will ruin everything.’

‘Go and have a drink. I’ll sort this out,’ said Sandy. ‘We start shooting in three days.’

‘We need security guards all over the place.’

‘I’m arranging that now. I’m trying to get hold of Ben Hood and his crew.’

Eric guzzled his white wine. ‘I don’t want him there. He’s too controversial.’

‘He does his job well,’ said Sandy. ‘He brings in headlines when things get out of control.’

‘I don’t really need this kind of distraction to my project Sandy.’

‘Eric…darling…someone has been in your ear.’

‘No they haven’t.’

‘Yes they have and does the word wife ring a bell?’

‘Karen has no influence over my creative talent.’

‘I’m glad to hear that Eric. I thought she had her hands firmly gripped around your balls.’

‘You overstep the mark far too often Sandy.’

‘I help you make millions of dollars Eric.’

‘Yes.’

‘Let me do my job and you do yours,’ said Sandy.’

Eric was silent for a moment. ‘Alright. Bring Hood and his people in if you wish but you know of his reputation with women.’

‘Of course I do. I can’t wait to meet him actually. I happen to believe that the hype surrounding this guy with women is just that…hype. I want to see what the real man is like.’

‘You would be a fool to underestimate him.’

‘I never underestimate men Eric. You of all people should know that.’

‘Perhaps you should put on some weight. Hood likes his women a bit on the plump side.’

Sandy laughed. ‘I might just stuff a few hamburgers down before he gets here.’

‘He is particular so I hear. He may not take the job.’

‘He’ll take the job,’ said Sandy.

‘This rape thing has got me so nervous,’ said Eric. ‘I just wish the blowflies that raped that girl were behind bars.’

‘They will get caught,’ said Sandy. ‘Have another drink and I’ll see you here in two days.’

‘Yes…two days.’

****

CHAPTER TWO

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘It…it’s a lot of beautiful women who need protection,’ said Rodney Reid, the CEO of one of the most respected VIP protection agencies in Australia.

Rodney’s best operative; Ex Detective Sergeant Ben Hood sat back in the frangipani print sun-lounge and crossed one leg over the other. ‘You have got to be pulling my bloody leg Rod.’

‘No. There is a lot of money in this job.’

‘I don’t want to protect any more women. I want a man guarding job.’

‘You, on the other hand, are good with women but you will be thrilled to learn that they want our girls on the job with you.’

‘Claudia and Susan?’

‘I have others that I could use,’ said Rodney. ‘I feel that you three in particular would be sufficient for this assignment.’

‘Guarding women?’

‘Swimsuit models,’ said Rodney.

‘Lord no.’

‘You have a special talent with swimsuit models,’ said Rodney. ‘On that last job…the one with the swingers group and the barrister from Brisbane…’

‘April?’

‘Yes, April. How in the name of St. Peter or whoever could you have ever landed a woman like that?’

‘She’s not a swimsuit model.’

‘The hell she’s not!’

‘She’s a barrister. You know that.’

Rodney put down his glass of beer on a side table and leaned forward on the single seat lounge chair. His right foot had been amputated years ago following a car accident and he rarely wore an artificial foot. He crossed the stump of his right leg over his left knee. ‘You go into a store to buy a suit and the guy comes out and asks you for your measurements.’

‘I suppose he does,’ said Ben. ‘That’s what he has to do.’

‘And you say…?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Ben, clearly confused.

‘So the guy takes out a plastic tape measure thing, or if he is 60 years old he will take out one printed on canvas in inches only…’

‘What the hell are you rambling about?’

‘But it’s only a metre long because he’s only measuring around your waist and hips and stuff. If you were a big fat guy…or perhaps someone like April, he would need builder’s tape measure…you know, to handle the extra…’

‘Will you shut up about April?’

‘Yes, although I think she is in a league of her own if you know what I mean. I hear she spent Christmas with you?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Ben.

‘It’s a bloody wonder you can still walk,’ said Rodney.

Ben sipped his beer. ‘You and I might need to go to therapy.’

‘I’m drinking less these days,’ said Rodney.

‘It’s not alcohol,’ said Ben. ‘I think we have a problem with women.’

‘You have the problem, not me. I’m happily married. You have these huge breasted women tumbling all over you. Why can’t you date a skinny woman for a change?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Ben. ‘You set up these damn assignments with big breasted women.’

‘Do you think I look at the size of their breasts before I give you the assignment?’

‘I believe you do actually.’

‘That’s bullshit. If I gave you a job involving a woman with smallish tits, would you accept it?’

‘Depends.’

‘Depends on what exactly?’ asked Rodney.

‘How smallish?’

‘No where near April’s size.’

‘Half the size?’

‘Less than half but don’t kid yourself,’ said Rodney, ‘this woman is a stunner.’

‘I thought the job involved a lot of women?’

‘You will have to deal with the project administrator in the main. Her name is Sandy Wickham. I’ve got a photo of her.’

Ben shook his head. ‘Did she send it to you?’

‘Google Images my boy. Don’t you know anything? You should check your own profile out sometime. It’s huge!’

‘I don’t want to see her photograph. I think Claudia and Susan should decide this one. I’ll go along with their decision.’

‘They are already packing,’ said Rodney. ‘They’re both in.’

‘Why do I feel as if I’ve been railroaded?’

‘Suck it up mate. It’s just a job.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard that before,’ said Ben.

Rodney sat back and uncrossed his legs. ‘There is another issue connected with this assignment that you should be aware of.’

‘Here we go. Now we get down to it, don’t we?’

‘Milba Berry seems to have become involved.’

Ben sipped his beer but said nothing.

‘She’s got nothing to do with the swimsuit model thing but an Aboriginal girl was raped in the sand dunes right where the filming was going to happen and things are a bit messy. Milba seems to have bought into it but no one knows why.’

‘She’s Aboriginal,’ said Ben.

‘Aboriginal women are raped every day of the week in this country,’ said Rodney. ‘What’s her interest in this particular woman?’

Ben shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You know her. Find out.’

‘Milba hasn’t called me,’ said Ben. ‘She obviously doesn’t think I should become involved in this particular situation.’

‘She rang me,’ said Rodney. ‘I was quite excited to be speaking with one of the highest paid movie starlets in Australia. For some inexplicable reason she thinks that the sun shines out of your arse.’

Ben sipped his beer again.

‘She wants to talk to you about the rape of this Aboriginal girl in Broome as well as the swimsuit model contest to be filmed in Broome next week.’

‘She could have called me direct,’ said Ben. ‘This doesn’t make any sense. Why didn’t she discuss these things with me?’

‘How would I know?’

‘Where is she?’ asked Ben.

‘In Sydney somewhere. She would like to meet up with you.’

‘I’m not being told something,’ said Ben. ‘What am I not being told?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Rodney.

‘What time does Rose get home?’

‘Late. She’s got surgery until nine or so. I have a microwave dinner which I’ll share with you.’

‘I’ve never quite made up my mind if I like Broome or hate it,’ said Ben.

‘Location, location.’

‘There is a sadness about the place here and there,’ said Ben.

‘You’ve always been there on your own. This time you’ll have lots of available company.’

‘Which I need like a hole in the head right now,’ said Ben.

Rodney pulled a small piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. ‘Milba had to change her mobile phone number. Here is the new one. Only a handful of people have it.’

Ben put down his empty glass, stood and took the piece of paper from Rodney’s fingers. ‘She could have advised me of this herself.’

‘She holds you in a fair degree of awe,’ said Rodney. ‘I don’t understand it so don’t bother fretting about it.’

‘It’s not like her,’ said Ben. ‘Something’s wrong here.’

‘I got the feeling that she really wanted you to buy into this thing in Broome and at the same time didn’t want to ask you.’

‘I’ll contact her and sort it out,’ said Ben as he walked towards the hallway. ‘Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.’

‘I wasn’t going to get up,’ said Rodney. ‘Do you want Sandy Wickham’s contact details?’

‘Email them to me,’ said Ben.

‘So you’ll take the assignment?’

‘Claudia and Susan will be the front operatives. I’ll watch from the wings,’ said Ben.’

‘You won’t regret it,’ said Rodney.

‘I have a feeling that I’m already regretting it,’ said Ben.

A huge drug and breath testing operation was happening on the Windsor Road as Ben headed away from the suburbs of Sydney. He was directed to join the queue and approached by a slightly built female police constable laden with a huge gun and handcuffs and a variety of weapons and equipment which made little sense to be wearing while conducting road-side breath testing procedures in company with 12 huge male police officers similarly equipped and armed. He handed her his driver’s licence and counted to 10 as directed with his mouth close to the device which she held towards him. He had only consumed one light beer during his visit with Rodney. The device registered nothing of significance.

‘Do I know you?’ asked the police woman.

‘No,’ said Ben.

She handed back his driver’s licence. ‘You are ex police.’

‘Yes,’ said Ben.

‘You seem to have enjoyed life on the outside.’

‘You think so?’

‘I might get out soon,’ said the young police woman. ‘This is the pits.’

‘Just be very careful,’ said Ben. ‘You never know who you are pulling over these days.’

‘So we’re told,’ said the girl as she stepped back from the Aston Martin. ‘Nice car.’

‘Chews up the petrol,’ said Ben.

‘Somehow I don’t think that is a problem for you Mr. Hood.’

‘No,’ said Ben as he drove past the line of witches hats and back onto the Windsor Road.

****

CHAPTER THREE

Detective Inspector Neville Simpson sat back in his cane chair and clasped his hands behind his balding head. He looked at one senior detective and two uniformed constables seated in front of him. ‘Are you positive that no one has leaked the information?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Detective Sergeant David Tusker. The rather portly detective shifted uncomfortably in his chair and fiddled with the papers tucked into a manila folder on his lap. ‘We have restricted her visitors. The Aboriginal movie actress Milba Berry got a bit stroppy on the phone but I think we’ve sorted her out.’

‘We have a black girl’s finger in a box, delivered right to our front door with a note from someone claiming to be from the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant.’

‘I think that is highly unlikely sir,’ said Tusker.

‘Have you seen the finger?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘And the note?’

‘I have seen the note and I don’t believe the IS are involved with this,’ said Tusker.

‘So let’s have your views as to who exactly is involved in this?’

Tusker was sweating profusely. ‘The rapists are sick and we believe the main man is Mohammad Long.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard of him,’ said Simpson.

‘He blew into Broome about 2 years ago and has been a pain in the arse ever since,’ said Tusker. ‘Mad as a cut snake and into theft and a few bashings. The Magistrate will slot him the next time he goes to court…especially if we can nail him for rape.’

‘How do you know he hasn’t hooked up with this IS group?’ asked Simpson.

‘If the rapist is Mohammad Long, he’s pretending to be what he’s not. He’s delusional. No one connected with the Islamic State is operating within Australia.’

‘Are you some kind of expert on this kind of national intelligence?’ asked Inspector Simpson, ‘and if you are, why hasn’t that piece of information been included in your report? I would have thought it extremely relevant.’

‘We can’t afford a panic in this isolated town over some bullshit with a severed finger,’ said Tusker.

‘And beautiful girls from all over Australia are pouring into Broome with a threat that they might be the next target of the Islamic State doesn’t seem to bother you?’

‘It’s bullshit,’ said Tusker. ‘It’s not going to happen.’

‘Milba Berry has spoken by phone with the Aboriginal girl,’ said Inspector Simpson. ‘They want to engage Ben Hood and some of his team of VIP protection agents.’

‘No,’ said Tusker. ‘Keep that wanker out of this. ‘It’s just a rape and a minor mutilation. They know nothing about this Islamic State bullshit. We’re keeping that under very tight wraps.’

‘I don’t think we can prevent them from coming here,’ said Simpson.

‘We have strong leads to the rapists,’ said Tusker. ‘We’ll get hold of Mohammad Long eventually. They used a beach buggy and we have tyre track imprints.’

‘I’m impressed,’ said Inspector Simpson. ‘There are almost three hundred beach buggies buzzing around in the Broome area. I have one myself.’

Tusker sat back. His shoulders dropped.

‘I’m letting Hood and his crew in,’ said Simpson. ‘They will be kept under a tight rein. They will be told only what they need to be told. You will afford them every possible assistance until we can officially confirm or otherwise that we have something dreadful happening here.’

‘We have pretenders here sir,’ said Tusker.

‘I hope with all my heart that you are right Sergeant.’

‘The victim wants her finger back sir.’

‘It’s decomposing and of no use to her. We’re keeping it,’ said Simpson.

‘Hello Milba,’ said Ben. His mobile phone was on hands free in the car.

‘Hello yourself,’ said Milba.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Can we talk face to face?’

‘Where are you?’ asked Ben.

‘Where do you want me to be?’

‘Do you know where I live?’

She laughed. ‘I’m right outside your front door.’

‘I’m 30 minutes away,’ said Ben.

‘I’m frightened,’ said Milba.

‘Why?’

‘I’ll tell you when you get here,’ said Milba.

‘Who is with you?’

‘No one.’

‘Is that wise?’ asked Ben.

‘The more people I have around me, the more I stand out.’

‘Don’t move,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll be there soon.’

The call was disconnected. Ben took a chance and gunned the Aston Martin into action.

She clung to him. She had lost weight but still looked amazingly beautiful. Ben unlocked the front door to his home and led her inside. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude,’ she said as she dropped into a corner of his L shaped lounge.

Ben dropped his digital car key reader on the kitchen bench and walked to the bar. He knew what she liked to drink. Smooth and creamy over ice with a dash of Irish whiskey. He handed her the drink and walked into the open plan kitchen. Ben had a rule which some wise old guy had taught him years ago. If you are going to drink, you have to eat at the same time. The two go hand in hand.

‘I’ll get drunk and then I’ll talk silly,’ said Milba.

‘Then sip,’ said Ben as he pan fried chicken thighs mingled with spices and coconut oil. He put long grain rice to boil on another burner.

‘You don’t know what’s happening up there, do you?’

Ben stirred the boiling rice and added more salt. ‘There are a lot of women trying to get their half naked bodies onto the cover of some swimsuit magazine.’

‘And so they should,’ said Milba.

‘I understand that you aren’t on the list.’

‘I’ve done well enough in movies.’

‘Yes you have,’ said Ben. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

‘I’m too skinny for that shit.’

‘You could do with a bit of fattening up,’ said Ben.

‘I worry too much,’ said Milba. ‘Things have moved too fast for me.’

‘Then slow down darling,’ said Ben. ‘Take a holiday.’

‘Don’t you preach to me mate. Look at you. You look worn out.’

‘It was a rather rough Christmas. I was going to take some time off,’ said Ben.

‘Sorry.’

Ben turned the chicken gently.

‘They cut off her right index finger,’ said Milba. She sipped her drink. ‘I knew that girl. She was a cousin and her mum was very kind to me when I was in a tough spot.’

‘Why did they cut off her finger?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve spoken to her by phone. They seemed to be more excited about cutting off her finger than raping her. They raped her and then held her down while one of them cut off her right index finger with a pocket knife. They were laughing. One of them held both his hands over her mouth to stifle her screams.’

Ben stirred a touch of palm sugar into the chicken mix.

‘They told her a big surprise was coming,’ said Milba.

Ben tipped some freshly chopped coriander into the mix. ‘I understand this rape happened close to where the swimsuit film is going to be made?’

‘Only a hundred metres away and no one saw or heard anything.’

‘Perhaps they should cancel the shoot,’ said Ben.

‘They won’t do that. They’ve spent loads of money on this one.’

Ben dropped the timber spoon onto the bench top. He stood back from the simmering pans. ‘My employer has asked me and two female operatives to get involved.’

‘I know.’

‘It’s to protect the swimsuit models,’ said Ben. ‘This assignment doesn’t involve your friend who got raped.’

‘Will you help her if I pay you?’

Ben turned down the heat on the rice and chicken. He walked into the lounge area and sat beside her…wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She put her head against his chest. ‘You never have to pay