The League of Free Men

By Pen Avram

With a knick-knack paddywhack, give the dog a bone, this old man came rolling home.' Never has a truer word been spoken. When a bone is uncovered while investigating a car accident, Kroupa's faithful police dog uncovers a body, buried by the roadside. Soon they are rolling in bodies and missing persons, but what links it all? As the number of worried parents increases, Hendrych goes undercover and our intrepid duo uncovers a global threat that literally spans the oceans. A terrorist network is preparing to strike and their agents are being trained on islands across the Asia Pacific region. Are Kroupa and Hendrych out of their depth this time and can they solve the mystery before the end of civilisation as we know it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen Avram
• Release date: Jul 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310529283

Pen Avram

This one-time piano mechanic turned Master of Applied Science (Critical Enquiry/Social Ecology) fled to the West from the former Soviet bloc, finally finding his home in Australia. Growing up in a family touched by the horrors of the holocaust and communism, Pen Avram has spent his life studying what drives people of different faiths around the world to act the way they do. His insights now inform the mysteries investigated by the intrepid team of Kroupa and Hendrych. And Sara is a real dog, blood an bones.

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THE LEAGUE OF FREE MEN

A book by Pen Avram

PUBLISHED BY:

Pen Avram on Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes:

This ebook is licensed 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 person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Copyright 2015 Text-Author-Pen Avram

Copyright 2015 ArtDesign Author-Pen Avram

The author and the artwork designer assert the moral rights to

be identified as the author and designer of this work,

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Chapter 1 - THE PROTAGONISTS

To those who have not met previously Kroupa, Hendrych and Sara in their adventures, let me redress this misfortune and introduce the trio.

Kroupa and Hendrych shared a similar build and both were middle aged. Detective Chief Inspector Kroupa was a few years older. His pink cheeks were sagging and he was going bald. Every criminal, who encountered him, feared him. His simple interrogation technique was well known in every police academy -‘He never answers a question with an answer, but always with another question.’

There was a popular anecdote circulated about him. A suspect had asked Kroupa, Why do you always answer with a question? Kroupa replied, Why shouldn’t I?

However Kroupa had a weakness – which also proved to be his strength at times – and it was known only to Hendrych. Kroupa always followed his intuition

Kroupa had worn the same black, horn-rimmed glasses for over twenty years, since he had become aware that his eyesight was deteriorating. He liked the old-fashioned look and they also served as a memento of Rome. Therefore, he never replaced them. Instead, he simply had the lenses replaced every year. On the rare occasion when a smile crossed his face, his cheeks touched the bottom of his glasses.

Kroupa wore tweed. Usually rusty Harris tweed, comfortable moleskins trousers, dark brown, soft flat shoes, and a dark green woolen necktie. Whenever he went outdoors, regardless of the weather, he sported a Baxter Tartan cap – of course, he’d had the pompom removed.It looks more ‘classy’, and it matches my car, he liked to say. The car in question was a dark-brown Rover SD1.

He liked classical music and art, his favourites being old Dutch Masters. However, he also had a penchant for Picasso and Dali, and Miles Davis was often his choice of music, but not for too long at one time. Philosophy was another of his hobbies and his library included everything from Plato to Wittgenstein, but also many Russian writers. He had no time for poetry or Dickens. But always had time for a pint of cold beer. It helps me think, he liked to say. Sometimes, more often than not, the thinking did for him his beloved dog Sara. Nobody has ever known how these two found each other, but there have been inseparable, making Hendrych jealous. He thought that too much credit went to Sara - which he thought he deserved.

Kroupa’s friend Hendrych had been a freelance reporter for over 20 years. He’d written for major newspapers in Hamilton and when Kroupa had relocated to Boarsville, he moved too. Amongst his major publishers he counted Boarsville Morning Post, Boarsville Daily, and Hamilton Telegraph. He loved to get an ‘exclusive’ and be paid for it. Occasionally he still struck gold with The Times and The Guardian, due to his previous contributions and contacts there.

Hendrych had met Kroupa at the very beginning of his career while on assignment and since then the two had become best friends. Hendrych often helped Kroupa in his investigations. His reward: 'exclusives' for his papers. He was in his early forties, about 185 cm tall, lean but strong, with a mane of reddish hair that was always neatly combed. Curiously, he wore contact lenses and sunglasses, even when the light was dim. Mostly he was dressed in a fine soft black leather jacket, perfectly tailored, as were his grey flannel trousers, elegant black loafers and a blood-red kerchief around his neck. On special occasions, he would put on more formal flannels, but he preferred his leather. He liked to look good, and tried to appear younger than he really was. That was the main reason for his contact lenses. He could take shorthand, an art almost forgotten by now and he was fluent in a number of languages. And not the least, he was a back-belt marshal-art expert.

Hendrych loved his car. Every three years he traded in his Alfa Romeo Spider for the latest model, always at the same dealer. I mightn’t be able to afford a red Ferrari, but I can still afford a new red Italian car, he often said with a satisfied smile.

But his failing had always been in music and arts. He didn’t like music and he didn’t understand art. He would complain that art was subjective and made you take a stand, and not having any bias or preferences in art kept him neutral. Kroupa had long given up arguing this point.

I am a reporter who reports the facts, not personal feelings or preferences, Hendrych proclaimed.

Perhaps these differences had helped the two men maintain their friendship for well over twenty years. They had solved many mysteries together. It was usually easier for a journalist to ask questions. People were keen to talk if they thought there was a chance they might see their names in the paper. On the other hand, you could come a cropper after an encounter with DCI Kroupa.

Chapter 2 - A CUBBY HOUSE

A fifteen-year-old redheaded boy stuck his head through a small peephole in the wall making sure that nobody could see them. There were three of them altogether; truants hiding out in the scoreboard cabin at the end of a makeshift soccer field. The cabin, which had been assembled by some enthusiasts, resembled a hennery on four wooden poles. The soccer field hadn’t been seriously used for many years and on the rare occasion that young boys did choose to kick a ball around, nobody kept score. Martin,