Mr Brown and Mrs Wong’S Ticket to Travel

By G.J Giddy

If there is a will, theres a way. An elderly Middle Eastern man named Yusuf is determined to hijack an international flight to one day use this plane to destroy a major city. Yusuf believes he can start a massive conflict for his cause once this city is destroyed.
Planning went ahead; they found many flaws in International flights. They used these flaws to their advantage managing to hijack a Malaysian flight on route from Kuala Lumpur to Beijing. The hijacking is a success; they fly the plane undetected to a disuse airfield in Australia. The airfield was one of many built during the Second World War. Because of its age, the airfield suffered badly when the plane lands but they were prepared for this.
The passengers and crew are forced to repair the runway, one of these passengers, a middle aged Chinese woman named Mrs Wong. Mrs Wong was so desperate to board this flight, she wishes now she had broken a leg instead. Mrs Wongs life was more than miserable until a Vietnam Veteran named Mr Brown stumbles on the airfield.
Yusuf has need for Mr Brown who works under protest wondering if ever he will ever have another cold beer again and where is his lost RSL members card. Mr Brown is in luck, Mrs Wong finds his RSL card and slowly they develop a friendship. Mrs Wong being very Chinese is a married woman; Mr Brown has being a widower for many years and had never learnt how to love again.
Their friendship is close to becoming inseparable with the fear of death always seconds away. Yusuf, Mr Brown and Mrs Wong cling to hope their separate religions will save the day although in this day and age, this shouldnt be the case. They all have an obstacle to jump, but who will manage to clear the obstacle.
Mr Brown and Mrs Wong are best described in Chinese dialect as a chicken and duck love story with a difference.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503556133

G.J Giddy

G. J. Giddy grew up in country New South Wales, with a taste for adventure, and dropped out of school to follow his dreams joining the Royal Australia Navy. After consent trips to Asia, G. J. Giddy left the navy to broaden his travels to Europe to study screenwriting and further adventures. This took a toll on him until he met his wife who reefed him out of the gutter. Life was now viewed at a different angle, and when his three children grew up, he took his family to travel to the corners of the world to allow him to continue dreaming. This is G. J. Giddy’s forth novel.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by G.J Giddy.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015904589

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5035-5612-6

                Softcover        978-1-5035-5614-0

                eBook             978-1-5035-5613-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 03/25/2015

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 1

S OMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN OCEAN a small brightly painted Indonesian fishing boat bobs up and down. Thankfully a light breeze assisted the boat from pitching and rolling in the small swell as all persons on board watch the horizon. One of the crew members uses his satellite phone to call an unknown person in Indonesia. This person looked concerned as he waits for the person on the other end to answer. Finally the other person answered, the man on the small boat started yelling into his phone, ‘where are they, we haven’t being intercepted, where are the Australians?’ The man on the bobbing boat yelled, took one more look at the horizon, screaming out where are the Australians. While the man on the other end of the phone talking in Indonesia spoke, the man on the boat nodded his head up and down while he listened. After a few more nods of the head, the conversation was over. The man turned his phone off then spoke to all the passengers. ‘The Australian Government knows our position.’ Everyone turned their attention seaward.

After a long forty five minutes everyone on board the small boat held their breaths, in the far horizon a slim black mast of a patrol boat could just be made out. Everyone strained their eyes staring at this slim black mast in the horizon.

One of the crew members studied this mast though a small well used pair of binoculars. Satisfied the mast belonged to a Royal Australian Navy vessel he started yelling in his native Arabic tongue. Suddenly the small fishing boat came alive, all persons on board chattered loudly. Small children looked at the horizon wondering what all the excitement was about as older members threw cell phones and passports over board.

The Royal Australian Patrol boat neared, a second vessel in the distant could now be seen following it. The crew member speaking Arabic told everyone to calm down. All persons sat with their backs to the boats structure facing seaward. The man speaking Arabic reminded the passengers he has already done this crossing several times refreshed them on what they must say and do once the fishing boat is intercepted.

As the Indonesian man speaking Arabic just said, he had done the crossing several times before. Being caught by the Australian Government was a small inconvenience as far as he was concerned. Not claiming to be a refugee and to be simply one of the crew members, he will be sent to a detention centre on Christmas Island or better still a few weeks prison time in Darwin. This maybe a small inconvenience but all of his Hallal prepared meals will be provided, his accommodation will be superior than what he is use too when he is at sea, and better still his allocated phone calls to his family back in Indonesia is free.

After the crew serves their small prison term, they are return back to Indonesia by plane. Back in Indonesia, the first thing they do is check their bank accounts, smile believing it was worth it before preparing to a have a banquet with family and friends. A small proportion of this money will be used to buy another rickety old fishing boat and with the consent flow of Middle Eastern tourists wishing to extend their travels to Australia as a refugee, a few weeks away from home is a very small inconvenience, so as they would say, no problem.

As one of the Indonesian crew members prepared his acceptant speech as a crew member, at the quarterdeck of the fishing boat, a young well-dressed Middle Eastern man and his wife take a special interest in these two boats slicing through the waters. The Middle Eastern man is named Habib; he turns to his wife, smiles. Habib’s wife closed her eyes, takes a deep breath and she too smiles. Beside her a copy of the Holy Koran wrapped in a dull coloured white cloth. Habib’s wife slowly unfolds the white cloth. As the dull white cloth shows the Holy Koran, a small vile appears. Habib’s wife takes the vile in her hand. Habib looks at the small vile, looks along the deck, no one is watching him. Everyone else is too busy looking at the approaching boats. Habib nods his head; his wife snaps the neck off the vile passing it to him. Habib quickly swallows the contents, pulls a face, the taste isn’t to his liking then flings the small vile overboard.

Habib allows the small amount of clear fluid to enter his system, he can feel it working. Habib takes a deep breath, squeezes his wife’s hand. ‘Do not worry, Allah is with me.’ Habib said as his wife never speaks; she squeezes his hand briefly with fear in her eyes. Habib suddenly seems to become weak, perspiration forms on his forehead. Habib rolls to his side, a few breaths later his breathing increases, they are deep. Habib’s wife moves her body into a position allowing his head to rest on his her legs. Habib closes his eyes as his wife strokes his forehead, she continues to do this until she is distracted by a thud and a thumping sound.

A Royal Australian Navy assault dingy is tied to the side of the fishing boat. Habib’s wife turns her attention to this rubberised vessel as most of the crew dis-embarks onto the small vessel. Most members of the small assault dingy secured the small ship; the young sailors frantically check the surrounds for weapons or contrabands. Satisfied the deck is full of genuine refugees one of the leading seaman yells out all clear. They all stand to attention as the officer still on the small rubber dingy boards the refugee’s boat.

Some of the young sailors follow the officer along the deck who is going straight to the only person standing, the Arabic speaking crewman.

The officer stops directly in front of him, the Arabic man smiles. ‘Do you speak English,’ the officer asked as the man shakes his head up and down replying he did. The officer familiar with this situation turned to the sailor beside him. The sailor handed him a piece of paper covered in plastic, the officer pretended to read from this well-read piece of paper. ‘You have being caught violating Australian International waters,’ he said turning to grin at the sailor beside him. Once the two exchanged grins they were interrupted by the man standing in front of them. ‘Yes, this is Australian waters, the passengers seek refugee status,’ then mimicking the officer and the sailor, the crewman smiled. The officer handed the sailor back the plastic covered piece of paper to the sailor. ‘Here we go again,’

The Indonesian man speaking English, Indonesian and Arabic was well aware of the procedure, he waited until the Officer and the sailor finished exchanging sea shanties understanding every word, the crewman finally got his turn to talk. ‘I must under international law inform you I am not a refugee,’ he said turning his attention to one of the other crew members, ‘we are crew members hoping to return home to our beloved Indonesian,’ the crewman said smiling as he is joined by his fellow crew man. The Australian Naval officer looks at the two crew members, then to the sailor beside him. ‘I bet you there is no captain, ’he said to the sailor. The sailor grinned shaking his head and before he had a chance to take the officers bet on, the officer asked where the captain was. As expected, the English speaking crewmember smiled looked at the other crew member beside him before he replied, ‘he fell overboard.’ On hearing the reply the Australian Naval officer controlled his laughter, looked at the grinning sailor before he continued to question the crewman. ‘When did the captain fall over board?’ The officer asked. The English speaking crewmember who has rehearsed this answer many times before tried to contain his grin as he said innocently. ‘We don’t know, no one was watching.’ This said the crew man was covered by International law. The Naval Officer had only one choice, believe him.

As the naval office wanted to throw the plastic covered notes overboard he was supposed to use as a guide, he was saved from future embarrassment. The officer is now joined by Custom officials who were sailing behind them. The Naval Officer greets the Custom official aboard, gives the customary raised eye brows as to say here we go again then it is off to business as prescribed by a few diplomats from Canberra. The two wanders along the deck looking at the pre- prepared refugees. Nothing new here the two thought until they reached the quarterdeck of the fishing boat. The officer looks at the woman nursing what he presumes is her husband. The officer looks forward, spots the English speaking man. ‘Would you come here,’ he yells watching the interpreter work his way aft.

‘Is this man sick?’ The officer asks watching the woman run her fingers over her husband’s sweaty forehead. The interpreter looking surprised spoke in Arabic to the woman, the quick conversation over the interpreter turned to the officer, ‘yes this man is very sick.’ The officer took a closer look, he was satisfied this man lying down is sick. The officer turns to the Customs and immigration officer, ‘I will take these two to the mainland; you take the rest to Christmas Island.’

Habib and his wife were transported to the naval patrol boat while the rest of the refugees head to the overcrowded detention centre on Christmas Island.

While most of the refugees prepared for their rehearsed stay in the detention camps, Habib and his wife where airlifted from a West Australian air base to a special unit for contagious diseases in a hospital in Sydney. Habib underwent tests and fortunately he was found to be clear of any contagious diseases. Not only was the Australian Government pleased with this result, Habib and his wife was also pleased, this meant they would be housed in Sydney’s Villawood detention centre.

Being housed at the Villawood detention centre would guarantee them the help from outside they needed and hopefully an early release as a temporary citizen.

When the day Habib and his wife finally arrived at Villawood; Habib was looking like he had never being sick in his life. In fact he was feeling like a new man expressing his feelings to the receptionist on entry. ‘I am so glad to breath the air of a free man,’ he said in broken English as the receptionist directs a fellow worker to hand them keys to their room. The receptionist smiles looks at the couple waiting behind Habib and his wife, ‘next please,’

Habib and his wife were led to a special area reserved for passing refugees; settling into their small self-contained room. Carrying practically no belongings when they arrived, Habib notices a small wrapped box on the dining room table. Habib takes the wrapping off the small box; inside the wrapping he looks at the small card with the words written on it, ‘compliments of the Australian Government,’ Habib throws the card away to continue to open the box scrummaging through the contents. The box contained several start up items, a few condiments not really relevant to Habib. After Habib emptied most of the contents from the box he stumbled across what he was really looking for. A small hand held cell phone with twenty five dollars in credit. Habib wasted no time heading back to the receptionist, when she finished talking to other newly arrived refugee’s she gladly activated the phone; pleased it worked, Habib hastily returned to their room, he phoned a number faintly recognisable. The number has being on his person before he arrived in Indonesia. When the local dial tone worked the impression on his face said it all when the person on the other end spoke.

Habib spoke to the person somewhere in Australia in Arabic; the excitement in his voice said it all. Habib smiled, as for his wife, fear cast a shadow over her face.

Several days past, Habib and his wife joined every program available to them. Well trained before they attempted the crossing by fishing boat, the two were taught the best way to achieve early freedom was show they were interested in all forms of Australian culture and behaviour. Already this was working to their advantage, Habib sped dialled the same numbers as he did when the phone was first activated, again the same man answered.

The man on the other end hung up after a very brief conversation. Going to his open diary he ran his fingers down the page stopping on an international phone number. The man wrote the number down, dialled it. After a few rings, he spoke; ‘go to Skype,’ the man then placed the phone down.

Now sitting in front of an opened laptop computer, he listened to the sound of Skype activate. An Asian looking man appeared. The conversation starts with the official Islamic greeting, ‘As Salamu Alaykum,’ the two grins at each other before the man in Australia speaks, ‘is Malaysia still good?’ The man on the other end quickly said yes, the conversation finished their.

Two days later the Malaysian man walks out of the Sama Sama Hotel Kuala Lumpur. Walking a short distance from the hotel foyer, he boards a small style golf buggy for the journey to the International Terminal.

Inside the terminal the man looked at the arrivals board above his head. A quick glance, he strolls along to the arrivals hall. Waiting for a particular person to walk into the arrivals hall, he looked around at all the surveillance cameras. Confident he knew where the blind spots were, he seen the person he was waiting for leave the immigration hall entering the Arrivals hall. The man was looking at a senior pilot wheeling his small suitcase behind him. The man quickly made his way to the exit point the pilot will take. The pilot happens to catch a glance of the man, they make eye contact. Nothing is said, the man walks towards the male toilet, the pilot follows.

The man enters the toilet first; the pilot waits a few seconds. The man inside the toilet looks around to see it is surveillance free, the pilot joins him. The two stand in front of a urinal as they pretend to go to the toilet. The pilot and man never make eye contact as they speak from the corner of their mouths. ‘In ninety days will you be good to go?’ The man said as the pilot pretended to zip his fly up simply saying, ‘yes.’ The two never said another word, the pilot grinned, placed his right hand over his mouth pretending to yawn. They left the male toilet going in a different direction.

The sleeping cell has awakened, though out Malaysia, the Middle East and Australia, a hive of activities is unleashed.

One the leading figures back in Australia, the man Habib first contacted the day he arrived in Villawood detention centre caught a flight to Melbourne. The first stop was St Kilda pier. The man walked the pier to a lone Middle Eastern man in his late teens fishing near the very end. The man leant on the handrail of the pier next to the fisherman. Without making eye contact he looked at the faint haze over the bay, ‘As Salamu Alaykum,’ the man said, and then the fisherman said the same. The man asked the fisherman, ‘have you caught anything?’ he asked, the young fisherman replied, ‘no.’ The man resting on the handrail grinned, lifted his self away from the handrail, checked no one was in hearing range before he continued, ‘in less than ninety days there will be bigger fish to catch.’ The fisherman smiled without saying a word, felt he had a bite on his line, started to reel in. The man from Sydney never waited to see if the fisherman had caught anything returning to the beginning of the pier.

The man walked a short distance from the pier, waited at a tram stop until the first tram came along. The man boarded the tram to the city. When the tram arrived at the city, the man from Sydney looked up and down Swanston Street looking for a particular man; it wasn’t long before he spotted this person. Walking a short distance stopping at this young man sweeping the gutter, the man from Sydney bent over picking up a piece of paper on the walk way, folded this piece of paper up into a bundle before flipping it in the bin the man wheeled around with him, the sweeper said thanks. The man from Sydney nodded his head, ‘Allah has arranged a more suited position,’ he said as the young man swept a load of dirt and rubbish into a heap, ‘when will this position be available?’ The street sweeper asked.

‘In less than ninety days.’ The man said paying little attention to the cleaner as he was about to walk away.

‘I will be happy to fill the position.’ The cleaner said as he placed the pile of dirt into the wheelie bin.

The man returned to Tullamarine Airport, catching the next flight back to Sydney. Once back in Sydney, the man spent the following days contacting several youths who he also told they were required in less than ninety day.

CHAPTER 2

N INETY DAYS PAST PRETTY FAST. Habib and his wife have already had day passes issued to do as they pleased thought out Sydney. Most of these days Habib spends his free time studying and use of a computer in an Islamic Bookstore close to a Mosque where he prays. Habib re-joins his wife after Isha prayer to make their way back to the detention centre. Habib today learns on return to the detention centre he will soon be fast tracked into receiving his temporary residency visa as a refugee. Habib and his wife greet this news a sign greater things are to come.

Although Habib has literally being sweating on this procedure since leaving the shores of Indonesia, the news his plan succeeding in the time frame, he genuinely feels blessed. The good news never stops there; he is informed this is due in the