The Rogue Spy

By M.A Searle

Frank Barnes is an old school detective who likes to hit the beat and doesnt mind getting his hands dirty. When he lost his wife ten years ago in a horrific single car accident, he dedicated his life to raising his son and working hard.

After five years of investigating a series of grizzly murders, including his partners, he finally gets a lead that the killer has left Australia and turned up in Alaska. With the help of Alyssa Springer, an experienced and very attractive Alaska State Trooper, the man hunt takes him on an adventure of a lifetime, including a hostage negotiation, riot, wildfire and a fatal accident. Working with the trooper leads to a budding romance between Frank and Alyssa.

While attending a local dance, Alyssa is kidnapped by the killer. Frank rushes to rescue her with the aide of a young constable in Australia. They learn the killer is hiding out in an isolated area of Alaska and some ad lib thinking is needed to save her. Will Frank save Alyssa and finally get the closure and justice needed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jun 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483648910

M.A Searle

M A Searle was born Matthew Adam Searle in Kalgoorlie, Western Australia in 1971. At the age of 15 he moved with his family to the Daintree Rainforest in Queensland, where he completed his schooling. In 2001 he married his beautiful wife and relocated to Alaska, USA. He lived eight years in Anchorage, Alaska, a year in Las Vegas, Nevada and a year in Rockdale, Texas. After returning to Australia he wrote the Rogue Spy and he is currently in the Daintree Rainforest writing his next book.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The morning sun pierced the large bedroom window as the alarm woke Frank. He sat straight up and with his left arm pounded the clock’s buttons until there was silence. In one motion, he slid his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching and yawning, he turned to the window to see the new day that awaited him.

His large frame slowly paced over to the corner of the room and picked up two ten-kilo dumbbells and lifted them with ease. He concentrated on his stance as he kept his arms to the side. The fingers of the muscular figure wrapped firmly around the bar, slowly bent his arm at the elbows one at a time, causing his biceps to flex. He repeated this routine, rested, and repeated. When finished, he placed the dumbbells carefully on the ground. The thud was slight as they touched the wooden base, which failed to stimulate the detective from his sleepy state.

The old oak floors creaked as he took large steps towards the door. Frank opened the French doors to reveal a modern sleek kitchen and a sunken lounge. He continued his march toward the coffee machine, found in the corner of the kitchen on a slate countertop, next to the European style hot plate, and continued to make coffee. He made coffee so often the chore became second nature and the process was automatic. As he pressed the start button on the percolator, he grabbed a small remote control on the breakfast bar and turned the massive TV on. Frank’s usual news channel was programmed to display once the TV was switched on. He placed the remote on the breakfast bar and continued making coffee. The aroma of freshly ground coffee jolted Frank’s mind, while he waited for the coffee to brew.

The glare of the sun entering through the long narrow kitchen window, above the sink, cleared his head. Making him turn his head and admire the TV hanging on the wall that connected the sunken lounge with his bedroom. The TV was his pride and joy when his old Academy friends came to watch football with him. A current news clip of how hundreds of thousands of people died in a war that was unnecessary, disgusted him and he turned and made his first coffee. Taking his first sip, he walked past the breakfast bar, toward the sliding glass door, just able to hear another news clip, detailing the death of thousands in an earthquake in China. Just then the phone rang. He answered it after five rings and said, ‘Good morning, Frank here.’

A deep grumpy voice returned. ‘It’s morning, but nothing good about it.’

From the tone of the voice, Frank instantly realized it was the Chief Inspector. Phone calls from the Chief Inspector never surprised Frank. ‘Another early start?’

‘No! Pack a bag for a week and book a flight to Alaska,’ the Chief Inspector directed Frank with authority

‘What… ? Why Alaska?’

‘Remember, five years ago we had those gruesome killings, including your partner?’ The Chief Inspector started to explain.

‘What has Alaska got to do with that?’ Frank demanded. Breathing deeply to calm himself down. ‘What does those cases have to do with me going to Alaska?’

A short time elapsed before the Chief Inspector responded. ‘The Alaska Public Safety Office has investigated a series of murders in the state. Your number one suspect has turned up in Alaska. He was identified, and they are looking for him for questioning.’

‘So this guy their looking for is my partner’s murderer?’

‘Yes that’s the guy,’ replied a confident Chief Inspector.

Frank looked up as the morning sun lit up the thick forest that grew near his veranda. He walked towards the sliding door. He unlocked the door, sliding the glass with one foot on the veranda, and asked the Chief Inspector. ‘Aren’t I too attached to that case?’

A short breath could be heard as the Chief Inspector answered. ‘That’s what the state troopers want-someone emotionally attached to the case. They want to throw the book at this guy.’

‘I can understand that. I want this guy as well. So this is a direct order, Chief?’ Frank asked as he found his favorite seat on his veranda, holding a strong sweet coffee, looking at a glistening, green thick forest.

‘Yes! Frank, we need you in Alaska on the next available flight.’

‘Consider my bags packed,’ Frank replied. ‘I think my partner’s murder case is now cold?’

‘Not for another six months, Frank.’

‘No worries Chief, I’ll get everything organized.’

‘Okay! Keep me in the loop,’ The Chief Inspector replied before hanging up.

Frank replaced the receiver, slumping further into his favorite chair, and looking at the forest. Some of the leaves moved only slightly in the morning breeze. The occasional chirping of birds and kookaburras laughing high up in the canopy were the only noise Frank could hear. The thick forest was only several feet from his veranda. This was a common feature in the town of Mossman, and this region of Australia. Usually, Frank could hear rustling of wildlife in the forest, but today it was quiet and peaceful. The detective found it very pleasing living so close to Mother Nature’s work.

His eyes focused on small lemon flowers on a near tree. The blooms were Wattyl shape, but Frank could not remember what they were called. The detective slowly sipped his coffee, letting the caffeine wake him up.

As his tired eyes were taking in the beauty of the flower, he thought of the murders, five years ago and of his partner. He remembered Simon was three years out of the academy and Simon’s father was Frank’s partner and mentor when he was a rookie. Gulping his coffee, burning his lips as the caffeine invigorated him. Images appeared of the lifeless bodies he saw five years ago.

Recalling the details of the murder cases, the way the mutilated bodies were dumped into the crocodile-infested swamp, the long walk into the dark and gloomy place, the huge man-eating mosquitoes covering his arms and legs, feasting on his blood, sent shivers throughout his body. Concentrating on the task at hand, he tried to forget the biting insects. It took determination and skill to find the victims and it will take much more to track down the killer.

Frank thought deeply as he remembered that in twenty five years of police service, these five bodies were the only crimes left unsolved. He felt anger and frustration as every lead turned into a dead end. Trying to solve these horrendous crimes took a toll on Frank’s family life. The early mornings and late nights meant very little time with his only child.

Frank had an impressive service record with medals of heroism and going above and beyond the call of duty. Only one complaint was on record for Frank. He had arrested a drunkard who became violent towards Frank. After the investigation, it proved Frank had used the necessary force in the scope of his duties.

Turning his attention back to the lemon blooms, he now remembered they were called the honeysuckle glory. Rising from the chair, sipping the lukewarm coffee, he returned inside to refresh his coffee. Walking toward the hall his mind wandered back to his past.

It was with tenderness that he thought of his late wife, who had supported and loved him for more than seventeen years. She died in a car accident ten years ago. Frank had loved and cherished his late wife, Suzanne. To Frank, her death didn’t make sense. The coroner’s investigation determined it to be a fatal accident and the case was closed. It was a single vehicle accident on a dry straight road, and good visibility. Suzanne was an excellent driver, not a single driving blemish was recorded, not even a parking ticket. The local police investigated the accident, but found nothing untoward that would determine anything other than an accident. With that, Frank placed his suspicions at the back of his mind.

His love for his late wife was so strong, he turned her side of the bedroom into a shrine and still said goodnight to her. He felt having a relationship with another woman would be a betrayal of that love. It took a year before he could go through her personal items and pack them away. Frank felt that Suzanne and he were one soul and he couldn’t go on without her. The thoughts of her rich blue eyes and long wavy blonde hair brought tears to his eyes. A small, cheeky smile came across his face as thoughts of Suzanne’s bubbly, never say die personality, flooded his memory. The image of Suzanne’s long blonde hair slowly moving in the morning breeze made Frank remember his wife fondly.

The smile turned to a grin as his thoughts went to his blue eyed, blonde hair son. Adam was the spitting image of Suzanne. Frank remembered vividly of how Adam took his mother’s death, and the need for a psychologist to help him through the grieving process. He remembered how proud he was, seeing his son off for his first year at the academy and how lonely he was after Adam had gone. Adam was finishing his last year in the police academy at Ninety Mile Creek. Frank was proud of his son for choosing Law Enforcement as his career, but wished he trained in another line of work less dangerous. A smile grew on his face, remembering how proud he was when little Adam was born. It only seemed like yesterday, cradling and rocking his little boy to sleep.

He looked forward to his weekly phone chat with Adam, which made the loneliness bearable. His son would tell him everything, from how he was doing at the academy to his love life. He cherished how his son confided in him and trusted him like a friend. Frank received daily emails from Adam, not replying due to his inability to understand computers.

Frank’s computer skills were virtually non-existent. With the fear of being left behind, Frank learnt the basic operations of a computer. The onset of the internet made it even harder for Frank, but he managed with the little knowledge he had gained

Arriving at the bathroom door, snapped the detective from his thoughts. He opened it and entered the bathroom; he turned the taps of the shower on and removed his clothes. Flexing his biceps and chest a few times brought a small smile to his face. He checked the temperature by placing his open palm under the running water. On entering the shower, he relaxed as the steamy hot water flowed over his muscular body.

Why was Simon killed? Sure that Simon had a good lead on the other murders, allowing him to get close to the murderer. Frank thought Simon was killed when justice was about to be served. From the autopsy report, Simon put up the fight of a lifetime, but from the wounds he sustained, the medical examiner had no choice other than report a violent death.

Two of the victims were female prostitutes and were found naked, but not sexually assaulted. The male victims were known pimps and found fully clothed, beaten to an inch of their lives, stabbed repeatedly through the midriff and then left to bleed out in complete agony. Frank sensed the four victims were killed by the same man. All four victims had defensive wounds on their hands. When the autopsy was done, identical DNA was retrieved from scrapings of the fingernails, confirming Frank’s theory

He recollected the brief of the profiler, stating the suspect was a male, 35 to 45 years of age, Caucasian, a blue collar worker who had withdrawn from society. The brief also mentioned the trigger for the attacks was the murderer witnessing a pimp beating on his girls or a similar situation, which lead them to believe he was probably abused by his parents when he was a child. How the profiler could come to that conclusion, with so little information, Frank had no idea. He was not qualified to disagree with the findings. Frank didn’t place much faith in profiling; he felt the way to beat the bad guys was to do it one street at a time. Chase, catch and detain was Frank’s motto. He understood the merits of profiling and used them wisely, but thought any experienced officer would come to the same conclusion as the profiler.

The soap running into Frank’s eyes made him attentive to the task at hand. He decided that his body was clean enough, and after a few seconds of rinsing he turned the taps off. In leaving the shower, Frank grabbed a towel and vigorously dried himself. In front of the mirror, Frank wiped his cheeks with his hand and chose not to shave. The detective brushed his thick blonde hair, trying to cover his receding hair line. In one motion, he hung the towel on the rack and walked toward the door.

As he walked through the French doors in his bedroom, he realized time was getting away from him. He went to his wardrobe and chose a light green shirt and dark grey pants. Dressing quickly, he kept an eye on the clock on the bedside table. While slipping into some shoes, Frank grabbed a tie and left the bedroom. While struggling to tie the Windsor knot he flicked the switch turning the coffee pot and TV off. The detective hated wearing a tie, especially in the summer months where the sweat would be trapped at the collar, but a tie was compulsory for detectives.

Frank’s liking for Armani suits and Ralph Lauren shirts and pants, made him fashion conscious. Stepping out in a pair of comfortable, quality shoes also pleased Frank.

His foot steps echoed loudly as he walked toward the front door. In one motion, he opened, walked through, and made sure the door was closed and locked behind him.

He unlocked the door to his brown Camry by pushing a button on his key ring, as he walked towards the vehicle. As he neared his car, Frank pressed a second button, which in turn, started the engine. Frank appreciated this feature, especially in the dead of winter, when the temperatures were extremely cold.

CHAPTER 2

Entering his Camry, Frank observed the sun’s rays penetrating the trees. The glare of the sun entering his car was cause for Frank to retrieve his sunglasses from the glove box as he reversed out of the driveway. Once he had his sunglasses on, he placed the car into gear and drove toward the police station a fifty minute drive. Frank enjoyed the commute as it took him along the tropical coast and through a farming area and then through more rainforest. He was quite fond of the large raintrees that lined the road as you entered Mossman.

A kilometer down the road, another vehicle approached the rear of his Camry, bringing his skills and instincts into play. The vehicle slowed, which made Frank think he was being followed. Deciding to use his driving skills to outrun the vehicle before he entered the town, he pushed hard on the accelerator pedal, speeding up quickly. The car following accelerated simultaneously, confirming that he was being followed.

Frank turned his Camry sharply onto a gravel road, since his knowledge of the back roads granted him an advantage. The frustration neared the limit, but Frank was still in control of the vehicle. Staying focused on the road ahead, Frank lifted his radio and said in a clear voice. ‘This is detective Frank Barnes. I’m in need of assistance on Johnson Road. I’m being followed at high speed by a black M Series Mercedes. I repeat this is Detective Frank Barnes in the need of assistance.’ As he returned the mouthpiece of the radio to its position, he heard. ‘This is Constable Sam White. I’m two minutes out.’ The gravel road took him away from the town and towards the mountains that surrounded Mossman. Frank took a small breath, his heart rushing as his eyes looked into the rearview mirror, noting the Mercedes was still on his tail and quickly closing in.

‘Why would anyone be following me?’ the detective questioned.

Focusing on the road ahead, Frank decided the person following him was a criminal he had the pleasure to put in prison, and now he’s a free man, he would avenge his time away. Frank committed the number plate to memory.

Realizing he was not in the best of positions, he examined his situation. At high speed he took the next turn sharply, swinging the back of his Camry out, the vehicle becoming out of control in the loose gravel. Using sheer strength, he tried to correct his vehicle but in a split second it was fishtailing out of control. Everything that occurred from that moment seemed as though it was all in slow motion with Frank’s life flashing before his eyes. His car ran off the road then launched, smashing into an old oak tree, causing the air bags to release and knocking Frank unconscious.

Sam White came to a stop when he neared the carnage of Frank and his beloved Camry. Sam exited his police cruiser, running towards the scene of twisted sheet metal and an engine fire. He went into rescue mode immediately as he could see Frank was unconscious and he reached for his radio and announced firmly, ‘This is Constable Sam White from the 255. An officer has been in an accident, I repeat Frank Barnes has been in an accident!’

‘Copy, what’s your position?’ the radio operator answered.

‘The corner of Johnston Road and Ash Lane,’ replied Sam

Moving fast, Sam returned to the scene, surveyed the wreckage, and found an entry point to the car. He climbed through the smashed back window, the shards of glass ripping his uniform pants, as he tried to clear it away with both hands. Reaching the left of bloodied Frank, Sam asked loudly. ‘Frank, can you hear me?’ The urgent need to remove Frank from the wreck became apparent when Sam saw the smoke billowing from the engine. The right arm of the constable stretched over Frank’s limp body, fighting with the air bag until he found the seat belt clip. Trying to revive his fellow officer, Sam yelled. ‘Can you hear me, Frank,’ He heard no reply. The young constable realized how desperate the situation was.

Aware he could do more damage to his fellow officer; Sam grabbed Frank around the chest and pulled him out between the bucket seats and over the center console. He heard the sirens of emergency vehicles as he reached the back window. Pulling Frank through the back window, Sam exited the interior of the wreck. Sliding down the trunk of the car, he was able to find the ground with his feet, while he kept a firm grip on Frank. Sam repositioned his hands so he could pick Frank up. While carrying Frank to safety, he saw the flames from the car get fiercer. Once Sam determined he was a safe distance from the inferno, he carefully placed Frank on the ground.

The paramedics came running with the stretcher and their packs. One of the medics felt for a pulse as the other put a collar around Frank’s neck. Sam moved back to give them room to work. Once he saw the paramedic place a single thumb in the air to let him know that Frank was alive, he went to his knees, looked skyward and gave thanks.

Sam glanced at the paramedics, who were rushing Frank back to the ambulance. Pushing the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, Sam tried to come to terms with the possibility of Frank spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

Sam returned to his police cruiser and picked up the handset of the radio, announcing. ‘Detective Frank Barnes is alive. He’s being transported to Mossman General.’

In that moment, a deep voice bellowed through the speakers. ‘Is Frank okay? Is there any word on his condition?’ Sam recognized the voice of Chief Inspector, but at that moment, didn’t care for the chain of command and replied frustratingly, ‘All I know is he’s alive. I don’t know if he’ll be able to walk or talk again, but he’s alive.’ Sam looked down at the ground regretting what he just said.

The Chief Inspector declared angrily. ‘Make sure who ever did this to Frank is caught and prosecuted. Do you understand constable?’ Sam replied, ‘Yes sir.’ Placing the handset back on its clip on the dashboard he got out of the police cruiser, walking toward the scene of the accident. The smell of burning plastic, leather and metal made Sam nauseated.

Ensuring he didn’t get too close to the inferno, he began to follow the tire marks back to the intersection. Focusing on the gravel road, Sam took small steps making sure he didn’t miss any evidence. He identified two sets of tire marks as he neared the intersection. One set headed towards the twisted inferno, which was Frank’s car. The other went in a slightly different direction, passing the wreckage and continuing down the road. Sam quickly got on his radio and requested the Crime Scene Division to his location. ‘This is Sam White from the 255 requesting a Crime Scene team to the corner of Johnston Road and Ash Lane?’ He clipped his portable radio back onto his torn and dirty uniform and quickly walked backed to the police cruiser. Sam was still deciding if saving a fellow officer, who could be brain dead and spending the rest of his life eating through a straw, was a good idea.

CHAPTER 3

The morning sun entered the room as the nurse opened the curtains. The Chief Inspector unexpectedly rustled from his nap. He jerked his head away when the glare of the sun hit his eyes. Seeing the Chief Inspector waking up, the nurse stated politely. ‘Good Morning.’

While the Chief Inspector looked at a motionless Frank, he replied. ‘Good Morning.’ He took another look, this time with some intent, observing the wires and the tubes connected to Frank. Studying the bruised and cut face, an emotional Chief Inspector realized the dire situation his friend was in. ‘Any change during the night?’

Shaking her head as she walked toward the door, she replied simply, ‘No, no change.’ The Chief Inspector lowered his head into his hands and wiped the sleep from his eyes. The nurse stopped at the doorway, turned toward the Chief Inspector, ‘Staying in a positive mindset will help Frank, you know. Research states that comatose patients respond to the positive.’ With a look of bewilderment on his face, the Chief Inspector responded by making eye contact and forced a grin. The nurse continued, ‘They also respond to touch and speech.’

‘Ok! I’ll give that a try,’ replied The Chief Inspector with emotion.

The nurse left the room, closing the door gently. Uncomfortably, the Chief Inspector slid the chair closer to the bed. He moved vigorously around in the chair until he found a relaxing position. Using both of his hands, he grasped Frank’s right hand gently. ‘You need to get through this Frank. We need you to help us find the person who did this to you Frank. Every available officer is working on it.’

The Chief Inspector’s train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. He looked up and waited. The door opened and Sam appeared. The white walls and machines caught Sam’s attention. He then forced himself to look