Project Dragonfly

By Drew Lindsay

A beautiful young Chinese reporter vanishes while investigating suspicions that uranium is being illegally mined by Chinese at the abandoned Mary Katherine mine in Far North Queensland. A Chinese film crew visit the area while making a movie re-tracing the steps of the missing reporter. There are those who want this movie to be made for both financial and political reasons and others who will kill to stop it. Ben Hood is hired to protect the cast and crew. They are all walking into a treacherous plot involving political Chinese power brokers who will stop at nothing to destroy the current Chinese government with nuclear weapons if necessary. If Project Dragonfly succeeds it could alter world history and not necessarily for the best.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Lindsay
• Release date: Jul 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310281075

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

‘He’s been tortured for a while before he was killed.’ The forensic pathologist looked up at the huge bulk of a man standing on the other side of the autopsy table. She was tiny compared to him but what she lacked in size she more than made up in the smarts. Dawn Stone waved a gloved hand at the feet of the naked man on the autopsy table. ‘Both big toes broken. That would have damn well hurt.’

‘Any idea how his toes were broken?’ asked Detective Sergeant Ross Davidson as he pulled out a small inhaler, put it to his mouth and inhaled two deep puffs. He coughed slightly and put the inhaler back into his trouser pocket.

‘There is no sign of external trauma like a hammer or anything,’ said Dawn. ‘I think someone strong who knew what they were doing just grabbed hold and snapped them.’

‘And I was told that the Australian Gold Coast was such a friendly place,’ said Davidson.

‘I was told you had been transferred down from Brisbane,’ said Dawn as she began to cut open the chest of the deceased. She used stainless steel spreaders on the skin and then picked up bone cutters.

Davidson took a large handkerchief from another trouser pocket and covered his nose and mouth. ‘Promotion,’ he said, taking a step back from the autopsy table.

Bone crunched as Dawn cut open the rib cage. ‘Straight into this eh?’

‘I’ve never been much good at autopsies.’

‘Neither have I,’ said Dawn as she used another stainless steel spreading device to push the rib cage open. She looked at the detective. ‘What I mean is that I’m good at them from a professional point of view but I don’t like doing them all that much.’

‘I can understand that,’ said Davidson.

Dawn sliced the lungs out and lay each in a separate stainless steel bowl. A crime scene operative by the name of Rhonda King stood close by taking numerous photographs. Everyone in the autopsy room was gowned in hospital green other than Davidson. Following this particular autopsy and the dry cleaning bill he would receive for special processing of his suit, he would choose to wear a surgical gown boots and cap in the future.

Dawn’s assistant labelled each lung with small plastic stickers. Dawn looked closely at the heart and pointed to a cut in the right ventricle which was quickly photographed by Detective King. ‘I’d say that knife cut finally finished him off but he went through a world of pain before that happened,’ said Dawn. ‘The index fingers on both hands snapped backwards as well. What the hell did the man do to deserve this kind of treatment?’

‘He was just a writer,’ said Davidson.

‘Just a writer?’ asked Dawn.

‘A screenplay writer actually,’ said Davidson.

‘Someone obviously didn’t like his work.’

‘We’re checking into that.’

‘Do you know if they forced him to do anything during the time they tortured him?’ asked Dawn.

‘We’re checking into that,’ Davidson repeated.

‘Sand has adhered to his body as you can see and I understand he was found naked.’

‘Buried in the sand hills just off the Sheraton Mirage,’ said Davidson.

‘That’s a lonely stretch of beach sometimes,’ said Dawn. ‘Who found him?’

‘Some lovers from the resort.’

‘That would have buggered up their romantic getaway,’ said Dawn.

‘Didn’t help it much,’ said Davidson as he watched Dawn cut the heart out and drop it into a stainless steel bowl. ‘He was buried shallow and while they were romping around doing their thing, the girl found the hand.’

‘Charming,’ said Dawn.

‘She felt the fingers of the hand touch her leg,’ said Davidson. Her boyfriend had both his hands on her so she knew right away that something was amiss.’

‘I’m sure she would have,’ said Dawn. ‘How dreadful for the poor girl.’

‘Yes.’

‘Does the deceased come from around here?’

‘No. He’s from Sydney. He’s a big shot screenplay writer so I’m told. He’s worked on movies with Nicole, Hugh, Russell and lots of other famous people.’

‘That’s the sad bit about the movies,’ said Dawn. ‘You only get to know the stars. All the people behind the scenes, who actually create the movie, are rarely known.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Davidson.

‘What was he currently working on?’ asked Dawn.

‘Some Chinese film. I’m still having that checked out.’

‘Chinese eh? Isn’t that a bit strange for an Australian production?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Davidson, reaching for his inhaler again.

Dawn looked at the face of the deceased. ‘Well he’s got a Chinese surname and slight Chinese features so I guess perhaps it makes sense that he would be working on a Chinese screenplay.’

‘I guess so,’ said Davidson just before he inhaled from his puffer.

‘John Cheng is the name on the toe tag,’ said Dawn. ‘I’ll need his medical history, wherever that is.’

‘We’re getting that,’ said Davidson.

‘You’ve got yourself a very nasty murder here,’ said Dawn.

‘Yes,’ said Davidson. ‘I know.’

****

CHAPTER TWO

Rodney Reid owned and operated one of the most successful VIP protection agencies in Australia. His base of operations was his home in the upper middle class suburb of Castle Hill, west of Sydney. His most prized operative was ex detective Ben Hood, a 52 year old police veteran who had parted company by mutual agreement with the New South Wales Police Force because of his alleged use of more violence than was necessary in a number of cases, each case resulting in him shooting the offender dead.

Ben was now divorced and when not on assignment, lived on a small farm near Windsor, about 80 kilometres west of Sydney. He was now independently wealthy and didn’t really want any more work from Rodney. Rodney and his wife Rose, a Sydney surgeon, were very close to Ben and he often found it hard to reject assignments which Rodney attempted to force upon him so passionately.

Ben stopped his gunmetal grey Aston Martin on the cobblestone driveway at Rodney’s front door. Rose was usually at the door, ready to greet him but not this time. The sun had set although its brilliance lit up the clouds in the west with deep red and pink colours. Ben closed the car door and stood listening to the tinking sound from the engine as it began to cool. The front door opened and Rodney limped out, his crutch underneath his right arm. His right foot had been amputated years before following an accident involving a four wheel drive vehicle and a large amount of alcohol. His wife Rose had actually amputated the mangled foot and that was how they had met.

‘You don’t deserve that damn car you know,’ said Rodney.

‘What do I deserve?’

‘I see you in an old green BMW. Cream leather seats and that sort of stuff.’

‘The Aston compliments my image,’ said Ben as he patted the roof of the mean looking machine. ‘It makes me look younger.’

‘It makes you look like a poser.’

‘I’m a bit of a James Bond on occasions,’ said Ben.

‘I’ve seen you in a bloody suit once and that was in Western Australia where you were forced to wear it for a television programme.’

‘James Bond doesn’t wear a suit all the time,’ said Ben as he walked around the front of the car and approached Rodney.

‘He did in my day. I think they’ve stuffed his image.’

‘Well my image remains intact,’ said Ben as he stepped up onto the porch. The two shook hands.

‘What exactly do you mean by the use of the word intact?’ asked Rodney.

‘I’m my own man and respected by a lot of very good friends.’

‘Including hot and cold running women.’

Ben walked past him into the hallway. ‘Where’s Rose?’

‘She’s still at the hospital. She knows you are expected and she’ll be here soon.’

‘I’ll make coffee,’ said Ben.

Rodney followed him into the house and closed the door. ‘I’ll have a beer.’

‘You can get that yourself,’ said Ben. ‘Rose may not approve.’

‘It’s my bloody house and it’s time for a beer.’

‘It’s now a house owned by both of you,’ said Ben.

‘Yes,’ said Rodney as he limped to the fridge. ‘So she keeps reminding me.’

Ben took out his mug from a cupboard and prepared the small espresso coffee machine. It worked on pods. Very easy and tasted just as good, perhaps even better than the very expensive machines. ‘We’ve already discussed my previous assignment in some detail so I gather you didn’t invite me here to re-hash the Hindmarsh Island situation.’

‘Or the fact that my fees were not paid in full,’ said Rodney as he tucked the beer can under his arm and moved out towards the sunroom at the back of the house.

‘Justice was done,’ Ben called out after him.

‘Justice doesn’t pay for my beer.’

‘You’ve got enough money to buy a brewery,’ said Ben loudly. He allowed the coffee to pour slowly from the pod machine and kept it black with one heaped sugar.

‘Perhaps it’s not such a good idea to have our client put in prison on your next assignment,’ said Rodney as Ben sat opposite him.

‘I thought the client was her solicitor?’

‘The solicitor declined to pay the fees as her client had been locked up thanks to you.’

‘Oh well,’ said Ben as he sipped the steaming black liquid. ‘All’s well that ends well. The lawyer will have her hands full getting her client off a very lengthy prison term and we can move on.’

‘Yes…speaking of moving on…’

‘No more assignments will be my way of moving on,’ Ben cut in. ‘Time out.’

‘How boring,’ said Rodney.

Rose Reid came down the hallway and dropped her car keys on the kitchen bench. She walked into the sunroom, approached Ben and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Good to see you again.’

‘And you,’ said Ben.

‘And me?’ asked Rodney.

Rose went to Rodney and kissed him. ‘What’s with the beer?’

‘The sun has set. It’s beer time.’

Rose glanced back at Ben. ‘Will you stay for dinner?’

‘No thanks Rose. Got stuff to do at home.’

‘Who is she?’ asked Rodney.

‘Get your head out of the gutter darling,’ said Rose as she walked back into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee.

‘I’m thinking of becoming sexually inactive for a while,’ said Ben.

Rodney held a mouthful of beer without spurting it everywhere. His eyes went wide. He slowly swallowed the beer. ‘I know I should have had my hearing checked some time ago but now I’ll definitely have it seen too.’

‘Just for a while,’ said Ben. ‘No big deal.’

‘But you can’t!’

‘Why the hell not? It’s my life and my body.’

‘It’s against the laws of nature for a bloke like you,’ said Rodney. ‘You didn’t screw our last client or her daughter…although things came close from what you say.’

‘I might just take off somewhere and reflect on a few things,’ said Ben.

‘Reflect. Reflect! Why don’t you go and reflect on Nikki Asplin, the winner of the Australian swimsuit contest? She’s in love with you for God’s sake!’

‘No she’s not,’ said Ben.

‘Then who cares! Just go and reflect on her amazing body and then do something about it. You can’t just let women like that slip through your damn fingers!’

‘Stop telling me how to run my life!’

‘Here here!’ Rose called from the kitchen.

‘But you agree with me Rose,’ Rodney called back. ‘You know that Nikki is perfect for him.’

‘It’s up to him to decide,’ said Rose as she walked back into the room with a cup of coffee and sat down next to Ben. ‘It’s his life.’

‘Thank you Rose,’ said Ben.

‘Perhaps you would like to try Chinese?’ asked Rodney as he tapped an index finger against the can of beer in order to determine how much was left.

‘I’ll cook my own dinner when I get home,’ said Ben.

‘He’s not talking about eating,’ said Rose as she sat back and sipped her coffee.

‘What the hell are you talking about,’ said Ben, looking at Rodney.

‘This is a job that I wouldn’t knock back if my life depended on it,’ said Rodney. ‘This is a one in a lifetime assignment. This job may have its dangers but the rewards could be amazing.’

‘So you are being honest for the first time in your bloody life and telling me this is a dangerous job?’

‘May be dangerous,’ said Rodney. ‘Probably not dangerous but has potential for an element of danger.’

‘That gives me a survival rate of around 50% based on previous work you’ve handed me claiming they were safe.’

‘She’s absolutely stunning,’ said Rodney.

‘Not interested.’

‘It’s Lilly Yong,’ said Rose.

‘Never heard of her,’ said Ben.

‘She’s one of the most popular movie stars in China,’ said Rose. ‘She’s about to hit the international scene and from what I’ve seen of her I can understand why.’

‘Whose side are you on?’ asked Ben.

‘This is a multi-cultural assignment,’ said Rodney. ‘It will give you a chance to absorb yourself in the ways of the Chinese people.’

‘I don’t particularly want to absorb myself in the ways of the Chinese people,’ said Ben. ‘They can leave me alone and I’ll leave them alone. I’ll eat their food. I love Chinese food but I don’t want to absorb myself in their culture.’

‘That’s being a snob,’ said Rodney.

‘I’m not a snob!’

‘She has a stunt double. The two of them look like bloody twins!’ said Rodney.

‘Why does she need a stunt double?’ asked Ben, now mildly interested.

‘She’s coming to Australia to make a blockbuster movie. The movie has elements of physical violence. Mate, this girl will take your damn breath away and with her stunt double, you get two for the price of one.’

‘Are you listening to this crap Rose?’ asked Ben.

‘I listen to his crap all the time dear. They are however, very beautiful women.’

‘I thought I was supposed to go after Nikki Asplin?’

‘You’re hedging,’ said Rodney. ‘Perhaps a foreign girl may be more to your taste.’

‘What!’

‘Chinese. Spread your wings man.’

‘I don’t believe I’m actually hearing this,’ said Ben.

Rose patted him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t mind him my darling. The Prime Minister’s office only contacted him today about this assignment. Then he got a call from the Premier and he’s a bit shaken.’

‘What Premier?’ asked Ben.

‘The Premier of Queensland,’ said Rose. ‘The film is being made at the movie studios on the Gold Coast and in parts of Queensland. It’s apparently based on a true story and some nasty things happened up there involving a Chinese girl some months ago. She just vanished.’

Ben looked at Rodney. ‘Big money eh?’

‘They can afford the best,’ said Rodney.

‘Do you think I’m the best?’

‘You have your moments.’

‘Send Claudia to do it. A girl would probably fit in better.’

‘No. It has to be you. The Chinese expect our most senior operative and it would be an insult to them to send anyone else,’ said Rodney.

Ben got to his feet. He kept hold of his empty coffee mug. ‘Lilly Yong eh?’

‘She has millions of people following her on Twitter,’ said Rodney.

‘Twitter is for twits,’ said Ben.

‘Get with the times,’ said Rodney.

‘Are you on Twitter?’ asked Ben as he walked towards the kitchen.

‘I’m not on anything. I’ve got a web site which Rose maintains. I’m a businessman.’

‘He doesn’t even know how to use the Internet properly,’ said Rose as she got to her feet and followed Ben.

Ben rinsed his cup under the kitchen tap and placed it on a sideboard. ‘I’ll walk you to the front door,’ she said as she placed her coffee cup next to his.

‘I’ll let you know,’ Ben called back to Rodney.

‘I’ll double your usual fee.’

‘Plus danger money. I’m already on notice that this job has elements of danger.’

‘Five hundred a day extra.’

‘A grand,’ said Ben.

‘That’s outrageous!’

‘I know,’ said Ben.

****

CHAPTER THREE

Three Chinese men sat around the table. All wore suits, the two older men in dark grey and the younger man in light grey. Each wore a white shirt with ties in various shades of grey. The older men had greying hair, brushed back. The younger man was totally bald.

The older man sitting at the head of the table tapped his fingers on a folder in front of him. He looked at each of the other in turn. ‘Where is the control? Where is the government censorship?’

‘Things have changed,’ said the man with the bald head. ‘There is some control within China but this film is being made outside of Chinese control.’

‘Then it should never be shown in China,’ said the older man.

‘There is interest and strong pressure to show this film in China,’ said the young man.

‘The honour and integrity of our organisation and our esteemed Chairman is at stake here,’ said the older man at the head of the table. ‘This film will never be made or shown anywhere in the world.’

The grey haired man sitting to his right looked down to avoid looking into the eyes of the man at the head of the table. ‘I don’t think you can stop this.’

‘The screenwriter has been stopped,’ said the man with the bald head.

‘They’ll find another to take his place,’ said the older man staring at the table. ‘It was a mistake for someone to attempt to force him to change his mind. Now the police in Australia are involved. We didn’t need this.’

‘This film will not go ahead,’ said the man at the head of the table. His voice was not loud or angry although he was seething inside. Chinese men did not put on an open display of anger unless it was absolutely necessary. He looked at the young bald headed man. ‘Please ensure that production does not commence.’

‘Lilly Yong is on her way to Australia,’ said the young man.

‘Then she must be prevented from acting.’

‘She is very popular sir. Extremely popular.’

‘Perhaps she could be convinced to give up the role and return home to her millions of fans,’ said the older man.

‘Perhaps. May I ask what should happen if she refuses?’

The man at the head of the table folded the fingers of his hands together in front of him. ‘She may have to meet with an unfortunate accident.’

‘Is this the wish of the Chairman?’

‘It is my wish,’ said the older man.

‘With all respect sir, I feel the Chairman should be consulted.’

‘In due time,’ said the older man. He looked out through the panoramic window at the myriad twinkling lights of the Hong Kong harbour and skyline.

Ben turned on the laptop computer. He typed in the password and watched as the screen saver of a beach in Northern New South Wales loaded. He hesitated at Google Images. He didn’t really want to see what Lilly Yong looked like. He didn’t need this job. He REALLY didn’t want this job.

Ben had met Australian Chinese women occasionally. He had never felt constrained to pursue any of them for any particular reason. He knew that China had the largest human population on the earth and his mental picture of Chinese women seemed to revolve around wrinkled, sunburnt individuals who either toiled all day in rice fields and crude kitchens or otherwise were confined to wearing colourful long dresses with almost every inch of flesh covered. Skinny women who kept their heads bowed and their eyes fixed on the ground as they shuffled along in ill fitting shoes which had been specifically designed to make their feet smaller for some odd reason.

The first image of Lilly Yong filled the computer screen and Ben immediately knew that his general perceptions of Chinese women had just gone out the window. He couldn’t take his eyes off this woman. She was perhaps in her early 30’s. It was difficult to tell. Her face was remarkably beautiful. Her eyes were dark brown. Long black hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She wore a light grey business suit with an open necked white shirt. Her arms were folded underneath an impressive breast line. She wore light pink lipstick on small but perfectly shaped lips.

Ben got up and walked to the bar. He poured a scotch over ice and kept his back to the computer. ‘Oh dear,’ he said softly.

The following morning, Ben walked up the steps and onto the verandah of an old 1940’ house in a