Stella's Revenge

The phone on the bedside table rang at 6.37 am. It rang out. Then it rang again and it rang out. Stella was sitting on the step of her rig, in a parking bay 700km to the west and was immediately worried. Ringing out once, yes, she might be in the loo or something, but twice, no it never rang out twice. They had spoken about this. She waited a further 5 minutes and rang a third time, still no answer. She pulled the truck further off the road and left a sign on it to say she will be back and will hunt down any prick who interferes with it. She had a 500cc Royal Enfield Bullet motorcycle lashed to the back, for getting into hard tight places. Or getting home in a hurry.

It was fuelled up and would do the 700kms in just under 5 hours if there were no speed traps in place. She would be home around noon and she was. 17 minutes past the hour to be exact.

She stopped the motorbike on top of the rise, just south of her home, she could see clearly that there was a broken window to the second bedroom, she watched quietly for a further 12 minutes, seeing no one, hearing nothing, she put the bike under some bushes off the road. Then head down the paddock towards the creek, it was still flowing, so any noise she made would be hidden by the bubbling water rushing down the mountain. The creek ran behind her household property, the house built higher up the hill. She moved slowly, expecting a rifle crack at any moment. None came. She reached the back of her workshop. The shed was deceiving, it looked smaller than it was. Stella had sectioned off 3 metres of the back of the shed a hidden doorway as the only way into her 'cave'. Here she kept her past.

She moved slowly down the eastern outside wall, if there were anyone in the house, they wouldn't have seen her. She got to the corner and listened. No dog, no noise, no nothing. Stella peered around the corner and saw the backdoor was kicked off its hinges. Her head would have been visible for maybe 3 seconds, in that time she saw what she wanted to see. There were no signs of life. Her heart raced. Part of her wanted to race for the house and find Mags and Bluey. But she knew she had to do some things first. The double doors of the workshop were still open. She took a deep breath. If there were someone in the house waiting for her, she knew the next 4 seconds between the corner of the shed and the opened doors, would be her last. She stopped and took more deep breaths, now she wished she hadn't put on so much weight. Not that she was fat, just big-boned.

She peered around once more, and then without warning, she went to move. Movement in the backdoor. She threw herself to the ground inside the shed, she raced for the back easterly corner where the hidden door was located, she hit the spring-loaded latch and the door flew open and she was inside, the door closed shut. Automatic bolts secured the door at four points.

She was panting, what did she see, she kept asking herself, who or what was at the back door. They would be here by now if they saw me, they had to have seen me. She went straight to her hole in the floor, as deep as a grave, but well hidden, she opened the metal fireproof latch concealing her armoury. She took out her JAR 110. Put on her shoulder holster and 4 magazines each holding 36 rounds. She put her small Heckler & Koch P9S into her right boot. A roll of piano wire in her back pocket then picked up the secured satellite phone. She pressed a seven-digit number and waited.

An elderly woman's voice answered immediately. "Name, rank and serial number."

Stella answered. "Seven, Bravo, Delta, Zero, Niner, Foxtrot, Charlie, Alpha, One. Priority Seven" The phone went dead. Nine seconds later a man's voice came on the line. "Murphy, are you alright? What's your location?"

"Sir, I am at home, locked in my shed. House has been broken into, my partner and my dog not responding to calls."

"Stay where you are, clean up crew on their way, ETA 97 minutes." She was told.

"Sir, I can't wait 97 minutes, it has been 5 hours 23 minutes since my last call." She replied. She heard muffled voices and the clicking of switches.

The general came back onto the line. "Murphy, a response team from Amberley will be there in 12 minutes they will be airborne in 3, wait for them."

"General, how the fuck did they find me if I'm supposed to be dead?" she asked directly.

"Murphy, we don't know who it was just yet, if it was them, then we'll deal with it. They didn't find you, did they? Maybe we are overreacting to a simple housebreaking, ever think of that?" General Alfred Higgins stated firmly. Trying to calm the situation, but both knew this was no simple housebreaking.

A helicopter hovered overhead, no shots rang out. Stella breathed a sigh of relief, "They're here, no shots," She reported to the general.

"I know," he replied.

Stella heard muffled voices then the bolts on the door were released and the door flew open. A fresh-faced hardened combat unit of 8 men and women, with no badges or signs on their uniforms, and very powerful fully automatic rifles at the ready were there to greet her. A Corporal on point stuck her head into the room, and looked at Stella down the scope on her weapon. A red dot appeared on Stella's forehead, she didn't have to see it to know it was there. The Corporal then lowered her weapon and yelled, "Clear."

Stella stepped out of the room, her jaw set in stone. She marched past the unit and up to the house, in the doorway was Bluey, still alive, with a head wound, from a rock or an iron bar or something. His eyes were open and if he could speak, then revenge would be what he was saying. She sat and cradled him. A soldier stood behind her and told her the house was empty. Her mobile went off and the woman's voice told her, she had a window of 2 days, then all 'privileges' would be revoked. She hung up without saying anything more.

Stella sat in the doorway, stroking Bluey's blood-caked head, the dog whimpering quietly. She focused her eyes, and looked around the back of her house, it was just a house without Mags she realised, not a home. She looked towards her workshop. Only to realise everyone had gone. She looked down at Bluey once again and said to him, "if only you could talk my little mate,"

She kissed her dog and took out her 'silent' phone and dialled a number, "Freddie, it's me, I have a job for you, I need your team up here,"

"Fuck me, I thought you were dead, they told us you had died. What the fuck!"

Stella continued, "Sanction number 7BD09FCA1. I have two days, so get your arse into gear and get your team up here. I need a clean sweep, you have 12 hours and I want names, photos and addresses. No one sleeps until I'm done, understood."

"Yes ma'am, we are on our way. Does this mean you are back in the game? Freddie asked.

"Just get your ass up here Freddie and shut the fuck up." She replied.

She made a second call from her own phone and rang the local Vet. It rang for several minutes, and it took Stella three tries to get her. "Hi, Deidre it is Stella Murphy from up on the Range Road, yeah yeah hi, my dog Bluey has been hit in the head with something, just last night, a blue heeler, any chance you can swing by and pick him up, please." She asked. "Thanks, doc, I'll be here waiting for you."

She sat there, the dog looking up at her and Stella stroking his head. "You'll be OK mate, I know it." She told him.

Dogs can't talk, but they can communicate if you just listen and open your eyes. Tuesday isn't the normal day for their groceries to be delivered, so the arrival of the delivery van was the first unusual thing to happen, the next was that the driver was different, which already made Stella's highly attentive nature, switch into overdrive.

What gave it way was Bluey, with his head still in Stella's lap, he heard the van long before Stella did, and his eyes and ears reacted. Stella picked up on it immediately, she pulled her jeans down over the Heckler & Koch P9S in her boot and waited. The third unusual thing was that he pulled the van up to the rear of the house, no one ever did that. Ever!

As soon as the driver got out of the van, Bluey began to growl, his hackles standing up. Stella shushed him and with just eye contact telling the dog to calm down, and Bluey did.

The driver approached them, and raised his hand to say hi, Stella's cold stare met him, and even with a smile on her face, she had sent a clear message.

"Hi," he said, "Oh shit, your dog's hurt, can I help," he asked in a tone that said I don't give a shit about your dog.

"No it's alright, the vet is on her way over, but thanks. How can I help you?" She asked, her eyes not leaving him, and watching every move he made, anything sudden by him would have been his last.

"I have some deliveries for you, your girlfriend ordered them after the last order on the weekend, and we thought we would just run them over for you, in case they were urgent like, you know."

Stella watched him closely, weighing up her next move. "You didn't have to do that, I'm sure we could have got by until Thursday," She said, purposely misleading the man, who should have known that their deliveries came on Saturdays.

"It's OK I didn't mind, I was up this way any case." Those last two lies cost the man his life, he was dead but he just didn't know it.

Stella stood up and walked toward the man, he smiled up at Stella as she got close. Stella put out her hand as if offering to shake the man's hand, as he offered his hand, Stella grabbed it, twisted it and then forced his wrist backwards towards his body, and it broke, the loud snap as four tendons gave way. He screamed in pain, but more was to come, Stella kicked her leg out making contact with his left knee, pushing it backwards, snapping it. His screams went unheard, his pain was extreme, his right wrist limp and his left kneecap snapped in two. He was incapacitated. Stella knelt next to his face and told him, "I will ask once and once only, if I am happy with your answer I will help make the pain go away. If I am not, I will break your fingers one by one, am I clear. You don't have to answer me, just nod."

In between his screaming and crying he nodded.

"Who are you and where is Margarita?"

She grabbed his hair and held his head still. "Tell me and the pain will go away, I promise you."

"I'm her brother you stupid dyke bitch and we took her home." He responded.

Stella let his hair go and his head hit the ground, she stood up and as she did so she took out the Heckler & Koch P9S from her boot and shot him between the eyes. Her cold eyes didn't blink.

Looking down at the body, she said. "I told you I would make the pain go away."

Bluey hadn't moved but gave a short sharp bark. Stella looked over at the dog, smiled at him and said, "Thanks Bluey."

Stella searched the body, found a mobile phone, and her name was written on the back of an old business card. Lowood Ford Dealer. Arthur Fitzgibbon Proprietor.

Phone numbers including an A/H one and a mobile. She put it in her pocket.

She dragged the body over to the van and opening the back she manhandled the body into the back and closed the doors. She drove the van down to the workshop, closed the doors behind her and went back into her cubbyhole. There she took out her balaclava, gloves and another handgun,

This time it was a Rugar MK ll she put on her belt, put 3 extra magazines in each pouch, a suppresser, a compass and her night vision binoculars. In her pit, she looked at the money, ten thousand dollars in Australian currency, in US currency, in euro and South African Gold Rands. There were also 10 bars of 1 oz 99.9% pure gold bars from the Perth mint. She took out two thousand Australian dollars and put it in a hidden pocket on the inside of her shirt. She put on a full-length black leather overcoat and headed back to the house.

She went up to her dog, smiled down at him, Bluey looked up at her Mistress whined and laid his head down. They both knew what was coming.

She went into the house for the first time that day. Not knowing what to expect. She stopped in the kitchen her back to the door, saw that the kitchen sink cupboard wasn't closed and thought to herself, at least she tried to take care of herself. She smiled. Good on you Mags. She may be small but my little girl knows how to fight.

She entered their bedroom and saw the unmade bed, her phone was still on the bedside table. She looked at it and saw her last two calls were from her. Not Stella, or Stell, her pet name, but she had labelled it 'The Mrs'. Stella stiffened her jaw, took another deep deep breath, and saw that the shotgun wrapper on the floor by the window, no gun, no cartridges.

She thought about her next plan. She took off her overcoat, hung it behind the bedroom door, and then she removed her shoulder holster housing her JAR 110 and throw that onto the bed.

"Fuck" she said out loud to herself, "Fuck, fuck fuck."

She looked out the window as she heard a car pull up, and watched the vet take a bag from the boot, and walk up to the front door. She knocked just as Stella got there and opened it. Which startled her.

"Oh that was quick," she said.

Stella smiled and told her, "I saw you drive up. Come on in, your patient is in the kitchen." Stella held the door open for her and took the opportunity to look up the hill and saw nothing.

The vet knelt down and looked at the dog, she looked at the head wound, then started to feel his ribs and the dog yelped, his ears pushed back against his head, his eyes sad looking and full of pain, a sign that said he took a beating.

"Who did this?" she asked. Looking over her shoulder at Stella.

"I don't know yet, but I intend to find out," Stella replied.

"Well when you do, give them a piece of my mind as well. This was a cruel assault on this poor old fella. The head wound would have stunned him, a few more than a couple of stitches, but the kicking he got will put him in hospital for a few weeks. I will need him down in the hospital," She told Stella.

"Do what needs to be done doc, except, you know that final injection, I will nurse him if I have to."

"Don't you worry Stella, we don't give final injections." She was told.

Stella smiled and pat the vet on the shoulder. "Thanks, Deirdre."

"Now the hard part is we have to move him to the back seat of my car, you don't have a stretcher handy do you?" She asked.

"No, but we can make something up, plenty of spare blankets we can use." And they moved Bluey gingerly out to the car, made him comfortable if you can do that to a dog with broken ribs. Stella watched and waved goodbye as the vet drove off.

She pulled out her phone and dialled Freddie again, it was answered on the second ring.

"They will be there in less than an hour," He told Stella before she could say a word.

"Good, when you come off the highway onto the dirt track, keep your eyes open. Give me a 3-minute ETA." She told him

"Will do ma'am," he replied.

Stella sat at the kitchen table and went through what would have taken place earlier in the day. There were more than 3 of them she was certain, one at each door, one in a car and another at a window. They kept Bluey running from door to door, to the window, and as soon as the window was broken they knew the dog would be there, so they came in the back door quickly, the breaking glass was the signal.

Clever little SOB's thought Stella. She smiled to herself once more and said quietly, "I'll show you fucking clever, you sadistic bastards." She took out the business card and turned it over and over in her fingers, just like a card shark would do with the ace of spades.

She picked up the 'silent' phone, the one she uses when she doesn't want her location to be known. She rang the Ford dealership number. It rang several times and a sweet young female voice answered the phone.

"Lowood Ford Erica speaking,"

"Hi Erica, my name is Stella, is Arthur Fitzgibbon there please?"

"I'm sorry but Mr Fitzgibbon has gone for the day, you'll be able to get him on his mobile, would you like his number?" The young voice said.

"No thank you, I have it already." And she hung up the phone or pressed the end call button more like it.

She dialled the mobile number of Arthur Fitzgibbon and waited for it to be answered. She knew that her number would come up as unlisted, and she also knew that a lot of people wouldn't answer those calls. But Arthur was a salesman and couldn't or wouldn't take the risk of not picking up a sale.

The phone rang half a dozen times before it was answered, "Arthur Fitzgibbon here, how can I help you?"

Stella hesitated purposely, letting him hear nothing. "Hello, hello, who is this?" he talked into his phone.

Stella then came on line and was very calm but straightforward. "Arthur, this is Stella Murphy, you are holding Margarita against her will, I will be there at 7 pm to pick her up, make certain she is outside, warm and unharmed, if you do that, I won't hurt any more of your sons." She didn't wait for a response and ended her call.

Of course, she had no intention of being there at that time, just as she knew that these men wouldn't have Mags waiting for her.

She went and put her shoulder holster back on checking the JAR 110, making sure the magazine was full and in place. The other magazines were unlikely to be used, but one should never get complacent she knew. She checked her other weapons. The Ruger MK II went into the back of her belt, the suppressor in her inside jacket. The Heckler & Koch P9S went back into her ankle holster. She tapped her back pocket of her jeans and felt the piano wire. She checked her bag to ensure the compass and Night Vision binoculars were there, they were.

She put her overcoat back on and waited. She sat at the kitchen table, facing the back door, arms folded, and her head on her chest, she looked like she was sleeping, but in fact, she was just waiting. Her breathing was slow and deep, her eyes closed but not asleep, and her mind was rehearsing all that was going to happen.

She remembered every detail of Margarita's story, her escape from her father and brothers, the layout of the house they called their home, the street on which they lived, the empty paddocks and broken back fence, how the clothesline was in a small enclosed courtyard. Where her bedroom was, what windows were locked, and what ones were left open. She knew enough. She also knew what was going to happen and when. Everything was being done at her pace, to her time.

She heard a faint noise, and she knew Freddie's team had arrived. She eased one of her hands inside her coat and gripped the butt of the JAR. Not moving quickly, she slid the safety off and waited for the next sound she knew would be a creaking loose board on the outside veranda.

CREAK

There it was, her hand was quicker than Freddie's quick feet, the JAR was out and Stella was up and by the back door seconds before Freddie's head poked around the corner.

He looked straight down the barrel and blinked. "Fuck, girl, one day I will get you." He said.

Stella smiled and told him, "Only if I let you,"

She put away the gun after slipping the safety back on and hugged the boy.

"How have you been Stell?" he asked after being released from a tight hug. "I didn't know you liked me that much." He told her.

Stella stood back and looked him up and down, "I don't," she told him with a smile.

"OK here is the drill, last night some time at least 4 people broke in, took my girl, nearly killed my dog, and stole a family heirloom. There is a van in the shed, you should start there, and in the back, you will find one of them. This is a simple family issue, you will find them all in Lowood. Their names are the Fitzgibbons. I've done all the hard work for you all I need from your boys is to get some current photos and to work out where they will be at 6.45 pm tonight. Simple hey. A clean-up team is on their way as well, they'll take care of the mess in the shed. How long do you need?" She said all of this while staring straight into his eyes.