Dangerous Days 4 - Enemies Within: Dangerous Days, #4

By J. William Turner

Emily's father, Sir Nigel, is so grateful for Emily's rescue from the terrorists who abducted her that he invites Wesley, Graham and Scott to go to England with Emily as his guests. Only Wesley and Graham can travel after a serious injury to Scott the day before departure. Wesley, though, also has an extra personal reason for going. He wants to know how the terrorists were able to Emily to the Australian outback so easily. From an exclusive private boarding school in the English countryside, through the labyrinth of London's underground railway, to the city's seedy East End, and finally into the very corridors of government in Whitehall, they follow the trail of mystery. But what they discover is an appalling, long-forgotten act of cruelty, a murder plot, a betrayal of friendship, and an obsession for vengeance in a world of power, privilege and affluence.
This final event also means an end to the danger that Wesley and his friends have faced, and confirms in Wesley's mind his destiny to become a photo-journalist.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. William Turner
• Release date: Aug 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781465820457

J. William Turner

J. William Turner (aka James Turner) was born in Reading, England, forty miles west of London, in the late 1950's, and migrated with his family to south-eastern Australia in the mid 1960's. The youngest of three children James spent the last seven years of his education at a boys' private school in the coastal city of Geelong. During his time here, he became a senior N.C.O. in the school's army cadet unit, having undergone basic, practical military training for promotion, on a regular army base for two weeks in 1971, as a fourteen-year-old, at the end of the nineth grade. After finishing the twelfth grade, he attended university to study science, but discontinued his course after two years. In the early 1980's James gained his private pilot licence, was a volunteer operational member of St John Ambulance for ten years, and travelled to many parts of inland Australia and overseas, including two visits to the U.S.A.. He also penned the initial draft of Storm Ridge, the first of the four installments of Dangerous Days, in 1979, loosely based on a similar school hike he did in 1970 as an eighth-grader. Later, in 1989, Paddle Hard was drafted, based on an actual murder in Geelong in the mid 1970's, and his own experience at canoeing. Another ten years later, he drafted Outback Heroes after several visits to several parts of the vast Australian outback. Enemies Within was written just four years afterwards to give closure to the unanswered questions in Outback Heroes, and is set back in London, near to his ancestral roots. James has always liked putting pen to paper, and has had two articles published in Australian aviation magazines (1996 and 2008). Over a six-month period from January to June, 2004, James wrote the first three stories of another, four-part, fictional autobiography, yet to be published, entitled Blades, about the traumatic and difficult teenage years of a 'top-gun' helicopter pilot named Julian. Set in the late 1990's, in Darwin, Melbourne, the central Australian outback, and southern California, Blades also reinroduces the three main child characters from Dangerous Days, now adults aged in their late-twenties, and their relationship with Julian. These three stories are entitled Street Kid, High Country, and California Dreaming. The final story, Aftermath, was completed in two-and-a-half months just midway through 2008, to bring Julian's life story almost to the present day.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1 - LEAVING HOME

Saturday, 21 August 1982 - I remember sitting on my bed beside a large, open suitcase full of clothes, and caressing the cover of my new passport. Opening the document, I stared at the photograph sealed inside. My mother had once said how much she disliked her passport photo, and I grinned slightly to myself as I looked at mine. Not always one to smile whilst being photographed, I appeared quite happy in this picture. The prospect of a holiday in London as Sir Nigel’s guest had consumed me and my two mates, Graham and Scott, for several weeks. Up until then, my knowledge of England was limited only to what I had seen on television, and from Emily’s stories of her life there. Adventure had been a big part of my life during the previous, twelve months, but I was wishing, somehow, this would be more than just an adventure. I was looking for answers to aspects of what had occurred at Marapana, and I hoped an official inquiry into Emily’s abduction, of which I was to be a part, would provide them.

That Chief Superintendent Venturi deliberately leaked Emily’s whereabouts to the terrorists in order to catch them, and expose an informer in his department, had outraged everybody involved. But as the weeks slowly passed into months, I had felt a growing uneasiness. Reliving the past events in the outback, as well as on the lake and Mount Feathertop, during several sessions with a trauma counsellor had helped me, but more new questions and thoughts about Emily’s kidnapping came to my mind. I had spoken of these to my counsellor, who discussed them with me. But there was one question I was keeping to myself, and it burned inside me. Nobody had ever explained how, in the first place, the terrorists discovered that a girl as vulnerable to attack as Emily had been sent to Australia. Having seen the hardship that Emily had endured during her nineteen hours in terrorist hands, I knew that my lingering anger would never be resolved until those responsible were exposed. If a very senior, Australian Federal Police officer could betray her, then no one was above suspicion. Even though my fifteenth birthday was still three months away, I had been made a total realist and cynic by past events, and I really did not expect to find the answers I was seeking, in London, or anywhere else for that matter. All I could actually hope for was a lot of sightseeing and a taste of London’s nightlife with my friends.

Hey Wes! You in there? Graham called out loudly from the hallway on the other side of my bedroom door and I told him to come in.

Graham opened the door, and entered, followed by Emily. I greeted them, and held up my opened passport. Not a bad photo, ay?

Always the witty one, Graham looked closely, and flinched. Eek, you really are ugly, aren’t you?

His insult deflated me, and my shoulders fell. But Emily had already seen the picture, and was more complimentary, saying I was cute, and had a nice smile. Graham laughed, and I pretended to be embarrassed. Graham then told me that he had just spoken to Scott on the phone, that Scott was going to use his father’s power saw to make shelving for his room, and did we want to go over there. I shrugged. Why not? We can have a look at his passport photo.

I placed my passport on top of the clothes in the suitcase, followed the others from my room, down the hallway to the lounge room, and told my mother where we were going. Mum looked up from the magazine she was reading, smiled and reminded us to be back by five o’clock as we were going out to dinner. We walked out through the front door, and turned left at the gate. Despite the season still being winter, the last fortnight of August was surprisingly warm and mild. The evergreen trees in the leafy beachside Melbourne suburb of Brighton swayed slightly in the gentle breeze that blew in from the north-west off Port Phillip Bay, less than two kilometres away.

I walked with Graham and Emily along the familiar street towards Scott’s house. We eagerly discussed our long-awaited flight to England the next day; albeit with Inspector Bert Beldon as our chaperone and a key witness at the official inquiry. While having mixed feelings about being questioned at this inquiry, the social activities that Emily had planned for us with all of her rich, high-society friends from her old school sounded very appealing; a touch of the ‘good life’, maybe.

Just as long as they’re not a bunch of stuck-up snobs, Graham and I had both thought to ourselves. We knew the English teenagers we would be meeting came from families much wealthier than our own, and in some cases, more influential. But if Emily’s friends were all like Emily, then the holiday would be unforgettable.

We were less than a hundred metres from the Willis’s house when the quiet of the street was shattered by the wail of a siren from behind us. We turned to watch the ambulance approaching rapidly and then flash past. But our curiosity became sudden shock as we saw it stop outside Scott’s home and two ambulance officers then alight from the vehicle, before walking quickly onto the property. Our hearts began to race as Graham exclaimed loudly, Ah no! No! What the hell’s going on?

It was not a question to which he expected an answer. Without another word we broke into a run, arrived at the front gate within seconds and continued quickly up the driveway beside the house towards the garage, only to gasp at the horrifying and grizzly sight that met our eyes in the backyard. Graham almost dry-wretched.

With his father kneeling beside him to offer comfort, Scott was sitting on the path, his back and shoulders supported by the garage wall. The boy’s face was pale and drawn from pain as the paramedics quickly applied a bulky, dressing pad to his left hand and wrist using a heavy bandage. Beside him, a large area of concrete was covered by a thick pool of bright-red blood. There were also several bloodstains on his jeans and shirt, and on his dad’s hands.

I was the first to approach the scene, and stopped a metre away. Scott, Mr Willis, what happened?

My voice was higher-pitched than normal from the sudden fear for my mate that now gripped me. Jason Willis looked up, his forehead creased with worry, but it was Scott who answered first, telling us that he used the power saw without permission, as he half-apologised to his father. The man stroked his son’s head gently, and said in a low voice, It’s okay mate, accidents happen. Just take it easy now.

Although he was going into shock, Scott understood that he was very seriously injured, and the consequences that would follow. The tears in his eyes were not just from the pain as he looked up with sadness at the three of us, realising that he would not be going to England the next day. Forgetting about the official inquiry, I offered to wait and go later, as I knew it wouldn’t be the same without him. But Scott accepted the inevitable, and shook his head. It was his fault, and he acknowledged it. We did not know what else to say, and it was Emily who spoke for us when she said that her father wouldn’t mind if he came for a visit later when he was better.

Scott nodded and sighed, Yeah, say ‘hi’ to your dad for me.

Emily’s voice was breaking up as she answered, I will.

It was then that the sound of heavy footsteps approaching along the driveway distracted us. Two, uniformed, police officers appeared from around the corner, and strode quickly up to the group. I thought how very strange this was. It was, in fact, to be potentially very ominous for all of us. The officers, Senior Constable Knox and Constable Barber, told us the police had received a message about the emergency call, and the senior constable said, What happened to the boy, Mr Willis?

Jason was bemused by the unexpected presence of the police, told them that it was just an accident, and asked why they were there. It seems the police were notified by the ambulance service, as the Willis’s address was one of three tagged for having any emergency calls referred to them. Graham and I looked at each other when we heard this, and Graham openly and cynically echoed our thoughts, Not hard to guess what the other two addresses are, before turning back to face the police and adding, So why are you lot still interested in us? All the terrorists are dead or in jail.

The officer was dismissive in his attitude, said he couldn’t comment on security matters, and that he had his orders. I, though, was very unimpressed by this typical display of officialdom, and told Graham in loud voice not to worry about it, and that we would ask ‘Inspector Bert Beldon’ on the plane to England the next day. The senior constable glanced back at the semi-defiant look on our faces, not knowing whether to take us seriously, before asking our names. When I told him he grunted, Yeah, I might have guessed it was you two.

He then turned back to Jason, said that his junior colleague would ride in the ambulance to the hospital, and that they would be needing a statement about the incident as soon as possible. We were not surprised that the demanding behaviour of this officer annoyed Jason, as he waited for a stretcher to be brought from the ambulance, who replied sharply, You’ll get my statement when I’m ready to give it! Right now, I’ve got more important things on my mind!

Good on ya, mate! I thought to myself. You tell ‘em to shove it!

As soon as the stretcher had arrived and been lowered to the ground, Scott was lifted onto it. A few, local residents who had heard or seen the emergency vehicles arrive watched as the stretcher was wheeled down the driveway to the ambulance. Accompanied by his father and the second, police officer, Scott was placed inside.

Where’re you taking him? Emily called out.

The ‘Alfred’, said the ambulance officer, and closed the door.

Both vehicles and the onlookers then made quiet departures as life returned to normal for the residents of the street, now leaving only the three of us on the footpath to show any strong feelings about what had happened. Without warning, our holiday plans had been turned upside-down. We were now torn between the desire for a new adventure in a foreign country, and loyalty to our mate. For Emily, there was no choice about her departure. She had to return to England. But for us