End of Story

By Greg Tuck

A surprise phone call leads to a fifty year old secret and a huge coverup by the Australian government. Bernard Wilfred Downs who prefers his nickname of Sarge in preference to those given to him, is a retired Detective Chief Inspector living in Cairns, Australia. Over the years he has built a network of contacts in the police force, the ADF, the AFP and Australia’s spy network. He needs to call on many of these people to help him solve a mystery that has landed in his lap. There wasn’t enough evidence yet to make it a police matter and it was the perfect antidote to the boredom that had taken over his life since retirement. Traveling from Cairns to Townsville and then over to the Vietnamese and Laotian border, he finds clues that may help unravel the dark secret that the ADF and the government don’t want to see the light of day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Tuck
• Release date: Sep 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005091033

Greg Tuck

I am a former primary teacher and principal, landscape designer and gardener and now a full time author living in Gippsland in the state of Victoria in Australia. Although I write mainly fictional novels, I regularly contribute to political blogs and have letters regularly published in local and Victorian newspapers. I write parodies of songs and am in the process of writing music for the large number of poems that I have written.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Your wife called and left a message.

The tone was frosty in the delivery and he looked for the glint of humour in the eyes that he had known and loved for so many years. There was none. In fact, they were as cold and as unforgiving as the tone in which she had spoken. He did a quick double take. Who was she referring to? She had accused him of being married to the job, but the job was no more. Marriage had always been a difficult conversation. He had proposed often enough and though disappointed with her rejection, he understood that she was not rejecting him, but the concept of marriage itself. Having witnessed her own parents' marriage and the way her mother had treated her father, and then the way her mother had treated the man who now stood in front of her totally bereft of an inkling of what she was talking about, she had been determined to not get married. It was almost a payback to her mother, this living in sin. She knew that her father who had left this world well before his time would have been proud of her standing firm in her independence. Her own two daughters born out of wedlock would be free to make their own choices. They would not have their lives mapped out for them by an overbearing parent. They were women who were already wilful and confident in the right measures. She worried about the eldest particularly because she saw so much of herself in her. They had fought like cat and dog well before the terrible teens, but there was just enough of her partner's softness in her daughter that allowed common sense to prevail.

He still had no idea what she was talking about and what he had done wrong. He knew it was something though. It was always something. However, if he apologised without knowing what he was apologising for, that just made things worse. What was the wife thing she was talking about?

So, you had better ring her. She left a number. How she got our number, I have no idea.

He took the proffered piece of paper but all it had was a number, not a name. It was a number he didn't recognise. He had a photographic memory but he was sure that his eyes had never seen the digits in that order.

There was only one thing to do as there were no clues going to be given by the still stunning looking woman he had fallen in love with when they had accidentally met all those years ago. That same woman turned on her heels and walked out of the room. He didn't use the landline, but took out his mobile instead and began to punch the number in.

The voice on the other end he didn't recognise. It was female, but she gave no name. All she said was, I didn't know who to call. I may be just imagining things, but the people in the house next door, well I haven't seen them in about three weeks. They never went anywhere, mainly because the mother was needing care all the time. Her two daughters were the ones looking after her and so rarely went out and now they have all just vanished. I don't know what to do. I can hardly go to the police because they'll just laugh at me. So, I called you.

In the end he had to ask who she was, hoping that she had dialled the wrong number. When she next spoke, the blood drained from his face. At last, he knew who he was dealing with and perhaps why the police would laugh at her.

He had been just eighteen and a half when he was smitten. She was a little bit older. She seemed to him more mature mainly because he was completely naïve about relationships. He was the new boy in the city. He was a long way from home and the marriage was rushed although definitely not from necessity. Before the honeymoon ended or in fact had even begun, he had realised his mistake. She wanted the wedding, but not the marriage. She wanted to have a husband, but one in name only. Later on, he figured that she was just trying to prove something to her parents and probably even herself. It was disastrous because the vows she had made had not been honoured once the ink on the certificate had dried. They needn't have gone away at all. Separate lives began straight away and, on their return, they didn't even set up house together. Marriage counselling failed and annulment occurred after six months. No consummation had taken place. His virginity was intact, but not his pride He went back to his job, very much chastened by the experience and became immensely shy around women. The new boy had landed on his feet at this workplace though. They welcomed him back with open arms. His boss’s comment was that in reality she had committed fraud, but no money was involved. She had taken his confidence and everyone would do what was necessary to help him find it again. Out of consideration for him and to try to allay any doubts about his value as a person, the six months when he had a wife, but didn't, was never spoken of again. It was buried deep in the minds of people who honoured their oath not to even mention it. He knew he was fortunate to have compassionate people around him and his workplace became his surrogate family. What he didn't know was the amount if respect they had for him for doing everything he possibly could to make an impossible situation to work. Elsewhere he would have been the butt of jokes. His real family closed ranks as well. They were a long way away, but constantly came down to see him.

His ‘wife’ disappeared from his life almost immediately, moving south and he lost track of her. Mind you, he never looked very hard.

Over thirty years later, out of the blue, his ‘wife’ who was in reality his ex-wife had called him. The actual love of his life had answered the phone. She knew of the non-marriage marriage, but the call must have come as a shock. In his home on the beach south of Cairns, the now retired detective chief inspector rubbed his whiskered chin. He no longer had that title and any official influence in the force. Bernard Wilfred Downs who had been known by the name he even now preferred, Sarge, was perplexed. Was she expecting him to fly down to Townsville on a wild goose chase? Was she hoping that he would get the Townsville police to take a look at the situation? He had an incredible reputation all across Queensland even now having retired for a few years. Was he willing to burn that on the whim of a woman he once knew, but didn't really know? Her mental faculties weren't quite right when he last saw her. They could have deteriorated even more and, judging by the inflections in her words, he would not have been surprised. God, what a mess.

His partner, Sarah, had never met Tammy and this out of the blue contact had obviously come as quite a shock. To her, it was just a shadow from the past that had no form or really any substance. Sarge had explained to her shortly after they met, the circumstances. She couldn't understand the workings of the mind of such a woman. She had seen the pain in his eyes when he had told her about Tammy. The pain was not of a long-lost love, nor of being taken as a naive fool. It was because he thought he could fix things. He could repair somehow the damage. He was a brilliant mechanic, having been taught by his late uncle, but this character flaw was beyond the skills of him and obviously a number of marriage counsellors, psychologist and psychiatrists. She knew he blamed himself and for years afterwards he hid himself away from other relationships because of this woman.

Sarah was a very clinical person. She was a professor in marine biology at the James Cook University in Cairns and was well respected across the world. She knew all the logic behind what was going on, but the phone call somehow still hurt. She would get past this. She was secure in their relationship, but still concerned about what Sarge would do. She wondered how the heart with all its irrational emotion could override the brain. Her best friend, Jess, would have been the go-to person to talk things through, but Sarge had sworn Sarah to secrecy about that early mistake he had made. The daughter she had fought with for so long was studying in Brisbane. Katie would set her right, but she was too far away for such an intimate conversation. Katie's arms wouldn't stretch that far for the hugs she needed. Both daughters had been told of their father's failed marriage. There were few secrets within this family. Sarah couldn't turn to Eloise because there wasn’t the same bond she had with Katie. The two girls were polar opposites. One was far more temperamental than the other. Although Eloise, Sarah reflected, was entering her teens and things were becoming more fractious. She would take her father's side and not have any inkling of what her mother was feeling. Sarah realised that she would just have to deal with it on her own. She wondered what the call was about, what it signified and what Sarge would do.

Sarge was still wondering the same thing. He was aware of what Sarah might be thinking even if that was irrational. You don't live with someone as long as he and Sarah had without developing some awareness. It had taken him longer than most. Trial and error was his modus operandi in their relationship. The errors often outweighed the successes. He knew he was far better at detective work than on understanding women. A few deep breaths and he went out onto the deck overlooking the beach. Sarah was staring out into the lagoon and beyond that to the waves that crashed in on the rocks that separated the calm water of their own private beach. Years ago, around the time they had met, Sarge had managed to acquire all the land that fronted the beach and all the way up to the Bruce Highway. There were no underhanded dealings involved, just an inheritance from a very grateful man that Sarge had once helped, but barely knew. Only Sarge’s family had access to this place. It was their piece of paradise. Sarah involuntarily shivered as if a snake had found its way into this, their garden of Eden.

Chapter 2

You don't suddenly lose all your knowledge and experience when you retire. What had driven you on, still exists. The enjoyment, in Sarge's case, of the challenge doesn't evaporate when you close the door for the last time. He had found that out when he had been seconded by his former subordinate and still close friend, to assist with a case. What had now been presented before him was another opportunity to dust off the skills he had built up over a lifetime. The only drawback as he could see was the initial catalyst. He had no feelings for Tammy except perhaps sadness for the sort of person that she was and perhaps still some lingering guilt that he had been unable to help her.

He stepped closer to Sarah put his huge arms around her thin body and held her tight. She didn't look at him, instead keeping her eyes fixed on some distant thought rather than object.

You've got to do this, don't you? she cast out into the light breeze. Her partner didn't answer but she felt him nodding behind her. What is it?

Sarge then explained the limited information he had and Sarah understood. He could not just palm it off to the police. He had a hunch that something was wrong and the police need something more than hunches before they will act. She knew that nothing could separate him from her, but an unknown woman from his past was nevertheless an unwarranted invasion into their lives. It was an irrational fear that existed and she was determined that it would not overwhelm her. Make sure that you give Nat a heads up, just in case you stumble over something he needs to know about.

Nat Johns was the now detective chief inspector in Cairns CIB. He had taken over from Sarge after years under his tutelage. Without a doubt he was, next to Sarah, Sarge's best friend and closest confidante. The fact that he was married to Jess, Sarah's best friend was not a coincidence. The four of them had built up strong bonds over the years and their children too had forged strong friendships. Sarah thought that Nat would help keep her partner on the straight and narrow, not that Sarge ever strayed from that. However, he had found himself in awkward situations over the years possibly because he was sometimes incapable of understanding that other people didn’t think like he did and his sometimes-bumbling naivety in the past had got him into some awkward predicaments.

Sarge had grown up in outback Queensland. Much of his persona had been sculpted by events and people around him. His parents and what would have been his younger brother were killed in a car accident on the way to hospital one dark night when he was only four. His uncle had found them and rescued the lone survivor from the wreck. He and his wife Jean had then raised Sarge as one of their own on the adjoining farm until Sarge had spread his wings to go to the big smoke. Cairns was hardly the big smoke though, a sprawling tourist and sugar cane town located on the flat coastal plain below the Atherton Tablelands in Far North Queensland. It was a far cry from the tiny place of Croydon where his parents and his uncle’s farms were and at first it unnerved him in its size and complexity and being seven hundred kilometres from home. Now it was home and he was somebody that was well respected, although intensely private. There had been no fanfare when this popular member of the community pulled the pin on his career. He hated any pomp and ceremony and avoided any public appearances whenever possible. Once Nat and his other protégé, Liz Rhodes, were appointed as joint heads of the CIB, he slipped quietly out of any limelight.

But people remembered him. He had a vast network of people who had reason to thank him for his assistance and friendship. He was a true and trusted friend who kept in contact with people he met, be they in New Zealand, Hong Kong, Germany or even distant places in Australia such as Melbourne, Canberra, Coober Pedy and Brisbane. They had warmed to this gentle giant of a man, who had of late padded out his former bean-pole figure, and they would bend over backwards to help him just as he had done for them.

Sarge had a very linear mind and once on a path, had a dogged determination to see things through. To counterbalance that, he had a very creative and artistic flair and his art work, particularly his portraits, were of stunning quality. Often those skills had been used as to draw identikit pictures, but the most treasured pictures were ones were of his own children, Sarah and a strange old man that he had met on a case that transformed his career and even where he lived now. That man’s portrait now hung in pride of place in the brilliantly designed house overlooking the beach. Old Tom’s remains lay buried beneath a cairn in a very remote part of Queensland inland from the Gulf. But he had found something in Sarge that he had liked and had left him an opal mine in Coober Pedy as a way of saying thanks. It was Old Tom’s generosity that had helped create this idyllic paradise where he and Sarah now stood and where he would leave from to try to unravel what was behind the phone message.

It was hardly a blessing that Sarah had given him, but he knew that she approved. There was potential for people being in trouble and she knew that Sarge could not to nothing. In any other circumstance, she would have openly encouraged him. There were times this grumpy old bear was footloose and would drive her crazy because of his boredom. She had returned to work and that was her escape. He, on the other hand, had no such immediate outlet and his impish but good-natured humour, she could only take so much of. He had built and rebuilt their cars including her old British sports car that he could barely fit in and Old Tom’s beloved long wheel based early Land Rover. He had drawn and painted nearly every angle of their private cove. Sarah realised that what he really needed was something that challenged his mind. She just hoped that nothing untoward would occur.

Already Sarge’s mind was elsewhere. He had scant information, just three names, an address and a timeframe. For all he knew these three people may have just decided on a holiday. They had no need to inform their neighbour as to their whereabouts, but he just wouldn’t feel comfortable until he got to the bottom of it. He sensed the nervousness of Sarah and understood her concern. She should have none, but he knew her too well not to be aware that the call had tapped into some latent deep-down insecurity. He would avoid speaking to or seeing Tammy if he possibly could. Once he had something substantial to go on, he would extricate himself from the situation and if necessary, hand over everything to the police.

Townsville was a little larger than Cairns and about five hours drive away, both were a long way from Brisbane. Although sitting on the coast like Cairns and being somewhat of a tourist destination, Townsville was essentially a military city. Lavarack was the biggest army base in Australia. There was a major RAAF base adjacent to the commercial airport and although there was no official naval base in Townsville, many Australian naval ships called in there. Sarge wondered if there was a military connection somehow. His mind was already miles away. He could hardly tap into police files as he once had, and he wasn’t ready to seek assistance from friends in the RAAF and army in Townsville. He needed to get some understanding of where these people lived and what their interaction was with the community around them. That would give him some answers he hoped. So that meant a trip to Townsville. He didn’t even consider flight timetables. Him booking a ticket at the airport would have caused uproarious laughter for as much as he tried to nonchalantly hide it, most of Cairns knew of his aversion to flying as well as travelling by boat. They were as strong as his penchant for frequenting the local bakeries.

Chapter 3

Sarge was aware of the sensitive nature of the situation. Firstly, as a retired police officer, this was not his job. It was something that might or might not have occurred three hundred and fifty kilometres away. The fact that it had been dropped in his lap by someone who wasn't probably not mentally stable and with whom he'd lost contact with over thirty years before, should have been a sign that he was wasting his time. Lastly, the alarm bells should have been ringing very loudly based on Sarah's discomfort.

He wasn't really a selfish person and he would have been shocked if someone had said what he was about to do was a selfish act. He merely thought someone might be in trouble and he felt obligated to help. If he'd just turned his back and something happened that he may have been able to prevent, he'd be mortified. Sarah knew him well enough to understand his true motivation, but that did little to decrease her anxiety.

Based on the scant information, approaching even Nat would have achieved little. As for the Townsville police, they might have done a drive by as a professional courtesy. They may have even done a door knock, but found nothing. It wasn't illegal to not be at home, nor to have a holiday.

Sarge didn't work on hunches. He worked on facts. Yet he was following a hunch in the hope he would dig up some facts. The facts were as thin on the ground as the people who had not been seen. He didn't even know if the names he