Goldie Abducted

A contract electrician's wife, Pearl Sanders, was hanging out the washing on the back lawn of her home in the New South Wales country town of Townsend Creek, a18-hour road trip west of Sydney, when the cell phone in her apron rang, scaring the daylights out of her.

In the 22 years she'd been handing out washing since arriving at Townsend Creek as a bride, the phone had never activated when she was at the clothesline hanging out wet washing most Monday mornings.

"It's Pearl, who the fuck are you?" she drawled, thinking it was one of her friends.

"It's Sly Hunter, calling to let you know your daughter is okay."

"What, are you at the old garden shed where she lives while earning bucks pumping gas at the Crossroads Pit Stop before beginning nursing studies?"

"Yeah, and she hasn't been at work for two days and she was a no-show this morning because I urged her to come away with me for two weeks. I've been living with her at the garden shed for two days and we left a couple of hours ago and just remembered we should have phoned you earlier before the fat-ass running the Pit Stop called you asking where the hell was your daughter."

"Thanks for calling me. Exactly what did you mean were you urged Goldie to go with you?"

"Err, it took some persuasion."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

The caller disconnected.

Crying, Pearl called her husband Mike, a former soldier, to tell him that their teenage daughter Goldie (Gwendoline, a blonde) was at the centre of a serious incident.

He said, "Fuck, she may have been abducted. I'm calling the cops. Go to Goldie's garden shed on my motor-bike. Take your phone because it has loads of photos of her as the cops will want photo ID. While riding to the Crossroads village, phone the cops with a good description of Goldie. At the shed, look around to try to work out what clothes she may be wearing. I'm at a farm job about 65 miles south of Crossroads and so will take time getting to the Pit Stop. Are you okay having had me to talk to?"

"Yes, as good as can be expected," Pearl dry-sobbed, hearing her husband cussing and then clearly saying, "I'll kill the fucking bastard when I get my hands to his throat."

* * *

Sergeant Smithers took details with Pearl unable to answer many of the questions.

"No, I have no idea of any current boyfriends. While living at the Crossroads, Goldie has been sleeping with various females from the café because the men there are mainly roughnecks or weak scumbags smoking dope."

Dick Smithers said he was sending two constables first to the sleepout as they would travel faster than Mike in his van to look around and then to question Pearl for updates. The constables would then prospect around the village for information about the alleged abductor.

The sergeant said the term abduction would officially be used if solid witnesses could verify whether Goldie had left cooperatively or had been physically forced into a vehicle, struggling. The constables arriving at the village would already possess a description of the suspect, Sly Hunter, details of some of his close and establish the direction the vehicle carrying Gwendoline Sanders left the village.

Such positive words calmed Pearl a little and she called her husband with that update.

"The cops will arrest that slimy Sly bastard within the hour," she said confidently.

Mike (42), experienced in handling information or promises about a 'sure thing' was not so optimistic, and believed the abductor had probably given a false name as Sly Hunter had a false ring to it. However, there was the question why would a guy give a false name to a mother if he wasn't expecting a struggle with her daughter to go away with him after being shacked up and banging her over two days?

Yeah, he thought. One should keep an open mind in operations like this one.

"You're done a great job," he told his wife smoothy, ending the call and continuing to push his work van along at maximum speed, wishing he was riding his motor-cycle.

* * *

Pearl arrived at the garden shed that was newer and in much better shape than the abandoned house in front of it.

The door was unlocked, and searching inside Pearl couldn't locate Goldie's favourite winter leisure wear, light blue jeans with slits below the knees and a thick red and black checked shirt. There was no sign either of her light brown rounded-toe boots that reached mid-shin high, roomy at the top, with easy distinguishable a small carved and coloured single red rose near the top outer side of each boot.

The cops arrived, braking at speed, in a 4WD vehicle and entered the property through a side gate by the garden shed,

"Hi, Mrs Sanders, I'm Beth Johansen," said the sergeant. "You know my mother, Sue."

"Yes of course. I've got some info for you, including clothes that Goldie probably was wearing including unique boots and here is her cell phone number but it appears to be out of service coverage."

"I'm Constable Mark Shipley, said the tall guy. "The fact that the phone is out of coverage tells us that the pair are not on a main road if indeed they are still travelling. From here, they are probably travelling nor-east into really wild country."

"Damn," said Pearl. "What do you have on this guy Sly Williams?"

"Searching found no guy of that name, although Sly could be a nickname. Once we get a reliable description of the vehicle, we'll have more to go on."

"Mom sends her sympathy and best wishes for a successful and quick outcome, Mrs Sanders," Beth said. She taught Goldie at High School and said she is strong, fit and practically fearless and wouldn't be taken anywhere against her will without a struggle."

"Thanks, Beth. That's comforting, err I think."

Mark said, "It's in her favour. If there were people around at the time, they could have noticed any struggle and thus could probably give a description of the vehicle. The more matching we have of pieces of evidence we gain, the more certain we become of the picture beginning to build. What is unique about the boots?"

Pearl described them in detail.

"Great," Mark said. "Female witnesses close enough would have noted a red rose."

The two women looked at Mark, appearing impressed.

"Where would the vehicle have been parked over two days?" Beth asked. "There is no vehicle access inhere as the lock on the iron gate into this property is rusted solid."

"At the Pit Stop in the staff area beside Goldie's small red Toyota."

Over time, Police with calibre rifles were posted to guard both ends of the mainly difficult-to-negotiate 63-mile Ferguson Road that wound through a pass in the rugged Hampshire Range. The lower-lying land was used for dry stock farming and the rougher land above that suited trampers (hikers) and pig and deer hunters.

Other police, supported by armed and trained regular search and rescue volunteers, went into the myriad of shortish dirt tracks leading into various parts of the rugged terrain, looking for recent tracks made by vehicles.

* * *

Bearded Mike Sanders arrived at the Pit Stop and comforted his distressed wife. Pearl told him that three witnesses had seen the offender driving off after struggling to get Goldie into his modified blue pick-up.

"I'm scared, Mike."

He said he wasn't happy, either.

Mike checked for details of the search now underway for his abducted daughter and was taken to Inspector Garth Wilton who'd been flown in by helicopter with two dogs and handlers from district HQ.

"Hi Mike," said the Inspector, recognising Mike, having met several times assisting the Police during hunts for fugitives from Police stations and law enforcement officers and overdue hunters and trampers.

"Is that fire-arm registered?" he asked, eyeing the military-style sniper rifle.

Mike said yes and asked to be issued with a pistol when being registered as a civilian member of the search team.

"Mike Sanders is authorised to be issued a side-arm of his choice," Garth called to his arms officer.

"When was the far end of Ferguson Rd closed?" Mike asked.

The sergeant assigned to record search details checked and said, 9.03.

"One hour-ten after the alarm was raised," Mike sighed.

"Mike, we couldn't have sealed off the top end of the road any faster, taking into account travel times. A detail from Walton Police on the other side of the range did it faster than we could have accomplished it from this end."

"Understood," Mike said. "Time combined with distances and slow driving conditions plus the bush cover are our enemies plus the bastard whose taken my daughter."

Less than a minute later, Mike on his hot all-terrain motor-cycle, with his rifle hitched to his back, roared off heading south.

"Where's he going, the search area is north-east?" Inspector Wilton shouted to Pearl.

"He asked when the was the top of Ferguson closed off, and probably has figured the abductor may have managed to traverse the slow driving conditions of most of Ferguson before the Police arrived to close it. However, Mike knows no more than all of you guys and I do."

"My husband knows possibilities along Fergusons are being covered by some 30 searchers, although it would probably need 150 for a quick blanketing of all likely possibilities. He's going south and after about five miles will cut diagonally through farmland and that means the Police can expect complaints from farmers that an idiot trespasser riding a motor-bike liker fury has shot through and not closing their farm gates that he opened."

"Mike will come out on to the Townsend Creek section of the highway through to Kianga Village and will turn on to Rossa Spur Road on the other side of the ranges and will arrive at the top end of Ferguson Road in about half the time it would take traversing the length of Ferguson."

Inspector Wilton said, "How do you know all this?"

"Local knowledge, and it's what I'd do if I had Mike's bike and I was told to get to the top of Ferguson QAFP."

The search HQ personnel plus a few locals had been listening to this,

Inspector Wilton asked, "What does QAFP mean?"

"Quick as fucking possible."

Everyone including the red-faced Inspector Wilton, roared in laughter.

"Okay, I have a clearer picture from you than expected," he said. "What does Mike do now he's at the top of Ferguson?"

"Sorry, I can't read minds from the distance," Pearl said.

"Pearl, what do you think he'd do?"

"Pause, attempting to think like the abductor anticipating he'd soon be pursued because our daughter had raised such a fucking racket trying to free herself from him that he'd failed to make a quiet to get away from the Pit Stop to disappear unnoticed. Then he'd think where would the prick had likely been camped out before making the snatch."

Inspector Wilton called, "Sergeant Hall, call our helicopter back with two sharp-shooters and a rifle for me to go um where to Pearl?"

"I'm not saying, Garth," Pearl said firmly. "It's only a hunch. Anyway, in the unlikely event of the abductor being in this logical place, I'm thinking if he hears a chopper coming in probably carrying sharp-shooters, he could turn my daughter into a hostage, and if the abductor fires shots at the Police and they fire back, Blondie could be hit, perhaps fatally."

"Garth, let Mike do what he was trained to do the Army's Special Forces group, which was to rescue hostages without resorting to guns or explosives, if possible. I suggest that you focus your attention in the most likely area harbouring the abductor and my daughter, which is in hostile country anywhere along Ferguson."

The Inspector said gruffly, "Sergeant Vickers (search strategy specialist), what say you?"

Gloria said, "Mrs Sanders makes sense about concentrating on the highly probable search area. I suggest you call in a rapid response team to position itself at the top of Ferguson Road and then we have the two possibilities covered by that team to rush where needed."

"Mrs Sanders, is you husband likely to shoot to kill?"

"No Gloria, unless it was his only option. His preference would be to permanently maim the bastard and to have pleasure seeing him cowering in Court to answer for his crimes."

"Maim?" said Inspector Wilton.

"Probably a bullet though his right knee before the bastard is even aware that someone is on to him,"

"Christ," said Garth. "This is the most difficult search that I've ever had to administer. Imagine at the official inquiry when the board is told that I allowed a former Army assassin to go in alone to cripple a suspect without sending in support to accompany him."

"Have no fear, Garth," Pearl said. "You only heard about this possibility a few minutes ago and even if you rushed in 50 expert Police searchers, where would you send them? The wildlands beyond the top of Ferguson are real tiger country and if the fugitive is really out there, in which direction would you send your reinforcements without risking, what you could eventually learn, was perhaps Mike's only chance he had of getting the drop on the fugitive?"

Garth peered at Pearl thoughtfully.

"You appear very well informed on search procedures?"

"Mike and I go out shooting for meat for the freezer in the wildlands. I met Mike in the Army. I was an assistant strategic planning and tactics junior officer in Intelligence."

"Holy shit," Garth said. "Sergeant Vickers, get as ambulance on standby at the top of Ferguson together with a four-person rapid response team on standby there too."

* * *

Two and a half hours after Mike was logged heading off alone, search HQ received a high priority radio call.

"Police Search HQ at Crossroads Village. This is Mike Sanders. Repeat this is Mike Sanders. Wind down search. Wind down search. I have the abductor and victim in front of me, both unharmed. Repeat, both unharmed. Unarmed abductor gave himself up to me. Please send recovery vehicle for them on Rossa Spur Road 4.3 miles North beyond Upper Ferguson Road. Please repeat that pickup position."

The HQ radio operator repeated those details, 4.3 miles on Rossa Spur Road north beyond Upper Ferguson Road.

"Correct. Normal cell phone service is non-existent up here. Pearl, Goldie sends her love. I held abductor and she knocked out one of his front teeth and trod it deeply into roadside mud. She now has sore righthand knuckles. This is Mike Sanders, over and out."

There was cheering and Inspector Wilton patted Pearl on the shoulder and Sergeant Vickers hugged and kissed Pearl and wiped away Pearl's streaming tears as they gradually stopped.

The Inspector said, "Thanks everyone as Search HQ and those in the field listening in who would have heard Mike Sander's radio message. Your dedicated support is truly appreciated especially those doing the hard slog out in the field."

"I have to say this: I'm truly glad that this turned into just another routine search with a successful conclusion. For most of the time it was looking rather ominous. Wind down and clean up. Free beer will be served in 30 minutes to all involved in the search at the Cross Roads Tavern opposite the Cross Roads Pit Stop where this all began. Everyone, let's give Mike Sanders and Goldie a really big welcome when they arrive."

Later, Inspector Wilton arrived with beer for Pearl and himself and sat with her outside the tavern.

"Obviously you think he'll bring Goldie home on the motor-cycle along Ferguson?"

"Not unless he failed to convince the ambulance crew to bring him, his bike and Goldie here."

"Ten minutes later they hear the faint sound of a siren burst and almost twenty minutes later the ambulance came into view with the siren sounding and everyone in the tavern or on duty at the Pit Stop, came rushing out, to welcome home Goldie.

"Omigod, what a reception," Garth cried, holding the shaking Goldie.

"Goldie ran to her mother amid a big cheer and someone called, "Where's Mike?"

"Getting his precious motorbike out of the ambulance," Goldie said.

"I must tell you this: The pickup I was in became hopelessly bogged in a wet patch on the bush track. My abductor could hear the bike motor idling in the distance and said he'd grab the bike if he could and leave me to find my own way home. Dad had arrived at the top of the bush track and left his bike to check the track for any recent signs of tire tracks, Suddenly, my dad appeared out of nowhere and thrust the barrel of the rifle hard against the guy's throat and my self-proclaimed hard-arse thug pissed his pants hugely."

Someone laughing called, "Omigod, that ought to have been filmed for TV this evening."

"My dad handed me the rifle and frog-marched the guy, who now said his name was Greg Street, out of the bush to the bush track where the motor-cycle was noisily idling,

"I rested the rifle against a tree and asked dad to hold the thug, as I wished to knock the daylights out of him. I punched his face as hard as I could and he screamed and then spat out a tooth that I stamped to bury it in the mud."

"Oh boy, my knuckles hurt but at least I still have all my teeth."

Everyone cheered Goldie as well as Mike who came into view riding his motor-cycle.

He stopped, and sitting astride the bike said, "Thanks everyone involved in the search for Goldie, and Goldie and her mother thanks you too. A super effort and that makes us so proud of our local community."

"The abductor was taken to Police HQ via Spur Road by the rapid response team as we didn't wish to risk a mob assault if we brought him here. You know most guys get angry with any guy who behaves badly with women. You're a great mob and let's have a beer."

The crowd cheerfully surged back to the doors of the tavern, leaving it clear for Pearl to get her hands on Mike to hug and kiss him.

The End