The Track

By Drew Lindsay

Ben Hood is hired to find those responsible for the attempted murder of a mentally retarded youth in the Daintree jungle of Far North Queensland. The boy saw something on a track that he was never supposed to see. The assignment brings Ben into contact with dangerous wild creatures, most of which are human. Beautiful women with various motives vie for his attention. Ben is well aware that attempting to solve the mystery of the incident on the track is likely to be impossible and probably (for him) even fatal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Lindsay
• Release date: Apr 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310657009

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

Ex Detective Sergeant Ben Hood missed some parts of his association with the New South Wales Police Force. He sat on the back verandah of his ranch style country home near Windsor about 100 kilometres west of Sydney and watched the golden summer sun slowly plunge towards the distant mountains. Flies attempted to attack him but he was well prepared with Tropical Strength spray in a can. The flies didn’t stand a chance. At almost 50 years of age, he could have stayed with the police force and studied for the rank of Detective Inspector but he was forced to shoot dead a couple of air head criminals and his career with the police force came to an abrupt end. He was now about to turn 54. The past 4 years had been spent in the casual employ of Rodney Reid, the owner of a VIP protection agency. It had been 4 damn hard years but he had been well paid and met a lot of very interesting people and some quite exciting women. Ben was divorced and single. He was very tall, extremely fit and handsome in a rugged sort of way.

He swatted at a fly that had penetrated the spray barrier. He pushed his mind back to the starting point of his thinking. The police force. Lots of good things happened while he was a police detective. Things he was very proud of. The powers that be often didn’t align their thinking with his and he contemplated all the medals his father had won during 5 years with the Australian Army and yet all he had to show for 20 years of service on the front line with the police force was one sheet of blue cardboard that had been posted to him after he resigned. The document stated that his conduct had been satisfactory. He didn’t even get the good conduct medal. That was because he had shot some criminals and their drop kick families had screamed police brutality. The Internal Affairs team had decided that he had been somewhat out of line by shooting violent criminals dead.

He thought back to the first woman he had encountered as a VIP Protection Agent. Brenda Grant. She was now a super starlet in Hollywood. He had been assigned to protect her during a movie shoot in Port Douglas, Far North Queensland. He smiled as he thought back over the embarrassment of an email he had sent to her whilst very drunk, even before he had met her. Then they had become friends…very good friends. They had kept regular contact for a long time and even met up briefly on Lord Howe Island during another VIP assignment. He hadn’t been in contact with her for a long time. He missed her company. He missed her smile and the curves of her amazing body.

Ben’s adopted diamond python snake Bruce, slid out of the sunlight through a flap he had forced in the bottom of the fly screen door and vanished inside the house.

He sipped at the beer which had been sitting in a glass on a rough hewn timber table beside him. The beer had warmed slightly and if Ben drank beer, he only drank it ice cold. No one drank warm beer…well there were exceptions. Actually there were a lot of exceptions but he didn’t want to go there just now. He tossed the beer out onto the parched lawn and set down the empty glass beside him. Perhaps another trip up to Far North Queensland was on the cards. He loved that part of Australia. He loved SCUBA diving on the Great Barrier Reef. He loved the relaxed lifestyle. Of course many people in Far North Queensland went a tad troppo, especially in the heat, but he could avoid them. Queensland was a huge state with lots of places a man could totally disappear. There were women in Far North Queensland…lots of them. Some even had most of their own teeth and took a shower once a week. Ben smiled. He was exaggerating. Some of the most amazing women in the world lived in Far North Queensland. They weren’t generally easy to find but they were there. Perhaps he should go and look for one. Tall, large breasted, confident, funny with a beautiful face, full lips and long blond hair…single…hot…full of pent up fire. That was always an advantage. He sat back, closed his eyes and tried to imagine such a woman. If they spoke English, that would also be an advantage. There were a lot of Chinese women in Far North Queensland. Offspring of the offspring of the original immigrants. Of course they would be able to speak English and they obviously knew how to cook the most amazing Chinese meals…well some of them did. Others, so he had been told, couldn’t cook to save their lives. Most of those kind of Chinese women had graduated from University, were running high end businesses and only took time out from their busy professional life for the occasional surgical enhancement procedure.

Around 2,000 kilometres away to the north of where Ben was sitting, enjoying the experience of sunset over the bush leading down to the Nepean River, Isabelle Cheng gripped her son’s hand and leaned forward. 19 year old Shane Cheng shivered in his coma. His long hair was wet with sweat notwithstanding the air conditioning in the ICU at the Cairns Base Hospital. Isabelle had been told that it was likely her son wouldn’t survive the night. She wasn’t wearing that. Most doctors she had known were wrong most of the time. She had determined in her mind that many of them worked on the coin analysis of a patient’s condition. Flip the coin. Heads…not good. Tails you might recover. The account for their services however, notwithstanding flipping of coins in a back room at the nurse’s station, remained steadily on the rise. Isabelle knew she was being unfair but her son was dying in front of her and there was no-one around. The doctors seemed to have vanished. If you pushed the red button, a nurse’s aide rushed in, flapped her hands around and rushed out. If you were lucky, a nurse would come in 5 minutes later and check all the tubes and machines and things and make assurances that everything that could be done, was being done. Isabelle knew she was overreacting. It was something she excelled at but this was her son dying in front of her.

Shane’s heart monitor wasn’t as steady as it could have been and his blood pressure was high. They had told her he had overdosed on drugs. Shane never took drugs other than those required to control his emotional state. Isabelle kept these locked away and administered them strictly as was required. Someone had found him face down in the rainforest not far from their home overlooking the beach north of Cape Tribulation. A girl found him. Isabelle knew the girl’s name and where she lived but she didn’t want to have any association with her. She was thankful that the girl had been helpful but that was the end of it. The police seemed reluctant to provide details. Shane had been savagely beaten. He had required surgery to wounds consistent with being bashed around the head with a sharp spiky object.

‘Don’t you dare die on me you little shit,’ Isabelle whispered into her son’s ear. ‘I’ve put too much effort into you. Don’t you dare die on me now.’

Shane didn’t move.

‘I’ve got some money tucked away. Money that your father doesn’t know about. I’m going to hire someone to get these coppers off their fat arses. Something’s not right here.’

Oxygen hissed through the tube down Shane’s throat. The heart monitor remained steady. ‘I’m making a phone call. I’m going to beg for help,’ said Isabelle. ‘Don’t you dare die on me until I’ve brought in someone to help. Are you listening to me?’

Shane didn’t move.

She moved closer to her son. ‘You owe me Shane. You stay alive. Got that?’

Shane remained motionless, other than his slow breathing.

He pushed the large breasted girl off his obese naked body and rolled over onto his side. Her name was Jill or something. He didn’t really care. ‘You can get drugs to help you with your little problem,’ she said as she walked to the bathroom.

‘Don’t talk to me about drugs bitch.’

She laughed. ‘My mistake.’

‘I don’t need fucking drugs for myself. I just need a woman who turns me on.’ Robert Cheng lit a cigarette and lay back.

She poked her head back into the room. ‘If I can’t turn you on mister, no one can.’

‘Just get out,’ said Robert.

‘Two hundred cash.’

‘You get one hundred. You didn’t finish the job,’ said Robert.

‘That wasn’t my fault,’ said Jill. ‘You need some serious professional help.’

Robert laid two fifty dollar notes on the bedside table. ‘I’ve got your number. We might try again when you are more in the mood.’

Jill pulled on a tiny strapless red dress. She picked up the two fifty dollar notes. ‘I’m never in the mood with men like you.’

‘Then fuck off,’ said Robert. ‘I asked for a Chinese woman anyway.’

‘I’m part Chinese.’

‘Not the part I want,’ said Robert.

When Jill had left he dialled a number on his mobile phone. ‘Talk to me.’

‘We’ve got a problem.’

‘No we haven’t,’ said Robert. ‘We don’t have a problem because you promised to take care of things.’

‘He didn’t die.’

‘Yes he did,’ said Robert. ‘He was to be beaten within an inch of his life and injected with Ketamine. He’s got to be dead.’

‘He’s not dead Robert.’

‘But he was watching. He saw things on the track.’

‘Perhaps he saw things. Perhaps he didn’t. He’s not the full quid as you are more than aware.’

Robert remained silent for a moment. ‘I would suggest that you take steps to ensure that he dies in hospital.’

‘That will cost you…unless you want to do it yourself. He’s your son.’

‘He’s not my son,’ said Robert slowly. ‘He’s a retard. I don’t have one ounce of sperm in my body that could spawn a retard. She rooted someone else and kept it a secret.’

‘Oh please…’

‘Just make sure he doesn’t leave that hospital,’ said Robert.

‘Five grand.’

‘You were paid to kill him on the track,’ said Robert. ‘You failed. If he leaves that hospital alive, I will report your conduct to Wiggins.’

‘Wiggins doesn’t need to be involved in this any more than he already is.’

‘He’s not involved. He’s squeaky clean. Got that?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Yes…do that,’ said Robert. ‘You are just a part of the fucking freak show. If you don’t obey instructions you will be removed.’

‘You don’t have the authority to do that.’

‘Yes I do,’ said Robert Cheng. ‘You are just the Inn Keeper and Cleaner. You can easily be replaced.’

‘I perform a very special function.’

‘Then you know what is required of you,’ said Robert Cheng. ‘Cleaners clean. Get about your business.’

****

CHAPTER TWO

‘It’s just for a drink, that’s all,’ said Rodney Reid.

‘I don’t work for you anymore,’ said Ben. ‘I’m officially retired from the VIP protection business.’

‘No you’re not. Never say that. Rose has baked some scones.’

‘I don’t like scones.’

‘Rae misses you. She wants to see you.’

‘I miss her too,’ said Ben, ‘but I’m not coming over because you’ve got some half cocked job up your sleeve and I don’t want it. Give it to Susan.’

‘It’s not a girl job. It’s a man job. A big, pumped up, ex police detective kind of man.’

‘Crap.’

‘Women galore. Palm trees and beaches in the tropical north of Australia.’

‘Where exactly?’ asked Ben.

‘Cape Tribulation and surrounding jungle.’

Ben was silent.

‘See…you’re interested,’ said Rodney. ‘I’ve got you hooked eh?’

‘I’m not hooked,’ said Ben. ‘I don’t mind the location but you are throwing me into something that may get me killed and I’ve had enough of that if you know what I mean.’

‘It’s not that dangerous,’ said Rodney. ‘The police from Cairns and Port Douglas are all over it. You are just needed for a second opinion, that’s all.’

‘The police are all over what exactly?’

‘A kid got beaten up. He’s probably not going to make it. He hasn’t regained consciousness. His mother contacted me and she’s well heeled if you know what I mean.’

‘I don’t need the money,’ said Ben.

‘You can never have enough money,’ said Rodney. ‘Aside from that, the poor helpless woman needs our assistance. She’s alone and very scared for her son.’

‘Is she over 50?’

‘No,’ said Rodney. ‘I would suggest that you stop ranking our female clients by their age and physical appearance. It’s not very professional.’

‘You should bloody well talk! That’s how you rope me into these damn jobs.’

‘That’s a lie,’ said Rodney. ‘Let’s talk about it over a drink and some caramel slice.’

‘You haven’t got caramel slice.’

‘Yes we have.’

‘You said Rose was cooking scones.’

‘And caramel slice. It’s your favourite.’

‘You’re full of shit,’ said Ben.

‘See you in around an hour then eh?’

‘Why did the kid get beaten up?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Rodney.

‘Has anyone been arrested and charged?’

‘No,’ said Rodney.

‘I’m only visiting to see Rae and Rose,’ said Ben. ‘I don’t need another of your hair brained jobs.’

‘They are not hair brained jobs.’

‘Good…then you do them.’ Ben terminated the call.

Joshua Wiggins was 69 years old. He had short grey hair and a grey pencil style moustache. His glasses were made from tortoise shell. Very expensive and probably somewhat illegal but he didn’t care. He had over $35,000 dollars worth of diamonds on just one ring on the middle finger of his left hand. His wife was dead and he was fairly grateful for that. Her continual nagging about his various affairs with younger women had driven him to distraction. She had died of natural causes. That was the coroner’s finding and no one had challenged the finding. No one would dare challenge the coroner’s finding where Joshua Wiggins was involved. Helen Wiggins had always been a sickly individual. In the last years of her life she had lost weight and developed the habit of taking to her bed with the blinds closed and the bedroom door shut for days at a time. She could hear laughter and loud music in lower areas of their huge pole house built in the jungle overlooking the Coral Sea just south of Bloomfield in Far North Queensland. Access to their palatial home was via four wheel drive vehicle along the Bloomfield Track. In the wet season the track was unpredictable and often very dangerous. That didn’t stop guests from arriving at all times of the day and night. Joshua also had a helipad at the northern side of his house. He owned two helicopters and very special guests often arrived by air. Helen hid from them. Young women with huge breasts, probably surgically enhanced, walked through her house as if they owned it. Some were covered in tattoos. Most had filthy mouths and no morals whatsoever.

Helen had determined almost 2 years before she died that she would never engage in any kind of sexual act with her husband. God knows what he had picked up from the sluts he entertained. Then again, even the thought of any kind of sex act with him or any other man made her quite ill. The thought of male hands on any part of her body caused bile to rise to her throat and she would almost choke.

Joshua Wiggins owned a company called Helicopter Magic. The company office was based in a rented room at the Port Douglas Yacht Club where Joshua was a valued member. Both Joshua’s helicopters were Agusta-Bell Jet Rangers which he maintained in perfect condition. These machines were almost 30 years old. Each had flown well over 3,000 hours but had lots of life left in them. The helicopters were housed in a specially constructed shed adjacent vacant land near the yacht club premises. The one for his personal use and the use of special friends was often housed in a shed near his pole house in the jungle.

Helicopter Magic offered a variety of flight experiences starting at joy flights around Port Douglas and the Great Barrier Reef, to transport for up to 6 passengers and luggage to almost anywhere in Far North Queensland. They weren’t cheap but they had a faultless flight record and their pilots were very experienced. It had taken Joshua years to find the right kind of pilots to suit his business, and especially one very exclusive part of his business. One of the very beautiful female pilots, 31 year old Magdalen Kikirekov had been unofficially designated as his pleasure pilot and her female assistant, Cindy Applegate was very appropriately named the pleasure guide. Cindy’s real name was Jolanta Ziemniak. She was 34 years old but worked hard to maintain the body of a 20 year old. She had lots of coloured tattoos on her left arm from the wrist to her neck and others on various parts of her stomach, back and bottom. She was Polish. Her surname in Polish meant potato. She had never bothered to delve into the reason why her family surname evolved from such a humble vegetable and she rarely divulged her surname to anyone other than the Motor Transport Department when she had applied for a driver’s license and of course the Immigration Department when she entered Australia at the age of 18.

Many clients paid in cash for services rendered by the Helicopter Magic Company. Discretion was guaranteed. Questions weren’t asked. There were no rules as long as the safety of the aircraft and crew were not compromised.

Joshua Wiggins had far more money invested and tucked away in various hidden accounts than even a man with two helicopters should have. He was very careful with his assets. He had numerous business arrangements that would have landed him in a prison cell if he had ever been caught but he was far too careful to bring himself under the notice of the police. He paid one particular Detective Inspector at Port Douglas extremely well to ensure that he would never come under the notice of the police. Life for Joshua was extremely good and he intended to keep it that way during the limited years he had left ahead of him. He wasn’t a fool. He knew that old age would quickly overtake him and his life would change dramatically. He knew that he had to squeeze every drop of life out of every day and nothing or no-one would stand in his way of the pursuit of daily pleasures. The pleasures he sought began at very opulent creature comforts in the luxury pole house which he had specially designed and then extended to the best food and wines that money could buy, the most expensive clothing and shoes available and then further extended to sexual pleasures that most men of his age could never afford. Designer drugs complimented his sexual desires and fantasies and they weren’t cheap.

****

CHAPTER THREE

Fifteen year old Rae Miller walked slowly towards Ben as he stepped out of the slightly second hand V8 Vantage N430 Aston Martin. She flicked back a handful of long black hair. ‘It really does suit you,’ she said. ‘Some might say it screams male change of life. I read about that yesterday but I don’t think that applies to you Ben.’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ said Ben. ‘Give me a hug.’

Rae launched herself into his arms. ‘God I miss you.’

‘Yeah sure,’ he said as he let her feet slide back to the ground.

‘Your friend Akira has been making me work very hard at Karate.’

‘Good for him,’ said Ben.

‘He says I can probably whip you in about 10 years.’

‘You’ll be pushing me in a wheelchair in 10 years,’ said Ben.

‘Then all I’ll need to do is tamper with the brakes on your wheelchair and push you onto the edge of a very high hill.’

‘You’ve been watching too much TV,’ said Ben as he wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and walked towards the door of Rodney and Rose’s home.

‘When are you going to take me up to that children’s mental home in Newcastle where my so-called mother put me a couple of years ago?’

‘That might not be such a good idea,’ said Ben.

‘I want you to pull up with me beside you in your Aston Martin. I want to get out of the passenger’s seat in a bright red and very revealing dress and have you walk me into the matrons office in front of all the so-called retards…’

‘Not such a good idea,’ said Ben.

‘Then I’m going to say to the matron... You remember me? I’m Rae Miller. I escaped from this dump of a place almost 2 years ago and got rescued by this man and now have been adopted by lovely people and you can go and fuck yourself. That’s what I’ll say.’

‘I’d strongly advise against doing that,’ said Ben.

‘You’re no fun,’ said Rae as she opened the front door.

‘So how are you coping with her around?’ asked Ben as he and Rodney relaxed in the sunroom at the rear of the house. Rodney sipped on an ice cold beer. Ben had orange juice mixed with sparkling mineral water.

‘I honestly don’t know how we got on without her,’ said Rodney. ‘I’ve always hated kids but there is nothing about this kid that I could possibly hate. She’s like a breath of fresh air every day. She and Rose are inseparable.’

‘How is she taking to school?’

‘She’s very popular,’ said Rodney. ‘I’ve spoken with her teacher.’

‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ said Ben.

‘Her popularity appears to lie in the fact that all the kids in her class are scared to death of her. She is very confident physically if you know what I mean.’

Ben smiled. ‘Yeah I know what you mean.’

‘Akira tells me that she is an exceptional Karate student. He says she is naturally gifted.’

Ben nodded.

‘Akira says that lots of your ways of thinking have rubbed off onto her.’

‘God help her,’ said Ben.

‘You’re probably right,’ said Rodney, sipping his beer.

Ben sat back and crossed his right leg over his left knee. ‘Alright, give me a brief outline of the hair brained job you have in mind so that I can say no and go home.’

‘The client is a 41 year old woman named Isabelle Cheng.’

‘Is she Chinese?’

‘She sounds Aussie,’ said Rodney.

‘She has a surname Cheng but she’s not Chinese?’ asked Ben.

‘I don’t know. Lots of people have Chinese surnames but aren’t Chinese,’ said Rodney.

‘Her son got beaten up in the jungle near their home in the Daintree Jungle.’

‘Yes,’ said Rodney.

‘Why?’

‘Someone