Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 27

"Our first sortie will be this afternoon at 2 o'clock. By then Dingo will believe that after receiving that wonderfully kind parcel Peter, in a blind craven panic, has decided to do nothing. Dingo will be expecting no trouble.

"We'll have a tourist coach full of two platoons of our tourists. One platoon will be Tamil, the other Chinese. This is the first sortie of the war. We'll have an excellent driver, Andrew, and we'll have a charming tourist coach guide in Susie.

"On the coach will also be our sergeant and two communications specialists. They will enjoy a tour!" He gave a toothy grin showing that he was delighted to reveal the extensive expertise of this little army.

"The tour will be of Sydney and will include the residential suburb of Hunters Hill. Perhaps a certain mansion will be a focal point of the tour," and he elaborated on the plan. "It'll be a full afternoon and after returning the tourists to the Motel to change, the coach hostess and the Chinese tourists will be having a Chinese meal at the nightclub, Red Jade. The Tamil platoon will accompany them but, with Andrew, will be investigating the streets and laneways around the nightclub.

"I'm sure that in spite of Susie's words Bill won't object to Susie dancing at the club with the tourists." The RSM had a wicked gleam in his eyes. "The driver will return the tourists to the motel late after an evening of exploration, dancing and good food."

Further discussion was impossible as the shrill jangling of the phone broke into their thoughts.

"Bill speaking - yes certainly. One moment," and he beckoned Joe to the phone.

Terrified that it was bad news, Peter sagged and the fight left him.

Aware of his distress, Susie slid an arm around his shoulders and she whispered into his ear. "Peter, bear up! The war has started. The surprise attack on Pearl Harbor will be nothing compared to what we'll achieve. No bombs no collateral damage just a lot of fear and destruction to some unwanted people." She kissed him on the cheek.

Breathlessly, still holding the phone but with the mouthpiece covered, Joe announced, "The bastards had a deep water anchorage at the rear of the Hunters Hill mansion and they've taken off in a huge, pleasure craft called The Pony Stable.

"They're travelling slowly as if showing two Arabs in their national dress the sights of Lane Cove River. A water taxi is following. He asks if there are any suggestions.

"He told me that a TV news boat is presently dropping the cast of Sydney Harbor Rats at out local yacht club."

Laughing, he commented, "It must be Italians' day out on the harbor.

"The master of the boat and the camera men are all part of his family and he knows they're desperately trying to bring Dingo down because of the murder of their young relations." Joe stopped and looked expectantly around.

Again, Peter sagged and seemed defeated -- feeling all his plans had come to naught.

Bill took over. "Well, well! Sergeant Major step back, it's time for the Navy to take over!" He considered his expertise was required at last. His grim face showed he was once more The Commander in charge of a naval operation.

"That's the boat we suspected was being used in drug running, but it was so fast we could never prove a thing. Well now, thanks to Little One Cleansing Company they're about to come adrift." He laughed heartily knowing how successful they would be. He'd not been a Commander in the navy without having some friends.

"Joe, radio that water taxi to keep following. Tell that driver to inform the TV news vessel that Commander Bill Williams and party will be passengers in a short while. Yes," he grinned at Peter, "they know me. No, I was not a film star in Sydney Harbor Rats. I'm far too tall and too ugly.

He laughed at Susie's denial.

"Tell the crew they could be on a huge news scoop but they are to keep their mouths shut or they'll end up swimming with sharks." His laughter belied the severity of his words.

"I was their naval liaison officer. Now Peter and Joe, we're off for a morning on the high seas." His air of quiet confidence was enough to ease Peter's distress.

The meeting broke up quietly.

Susie dropped behind to give Peter a hug and her husband a kiss with the advice. "Be careful, James and I love and need you."

Andrew and Susie with their two Asian guests quietly made their way back to the motel.

The Pony Stable crawled its way out of Lane Cover River past the Woolwich headland into the Parramatta River and even more slowly made its way towards Balmain Wharf.

Two shadows trailed behind.

The news crew kept their cameras rolling and Peter standing alongside told them he wanted every face visible for his own inspection. However, they were close enough for Peter to recognize Dingo, Pretty Boy and the two Arabs, recognisable only by their dress.

Peter's knuckles were white with tension as he gripped the rail while he stared at Dingo's boat.

It took the RSM's words, "Control yourself Little One, this is the Commander's patrol," to stop Peter from hurling himself overboard in the hope of rescuing Jennifer.

Waiting on the wharf were some women passengers, one of whom had red hair. None too gently, the six men on the wharf herded the women aboard The Pony Stable. Although the bodyguards were rough in the control of the women, they were guarding them most carefully.

"The bastards aren't going out to sea with those women," was The Commander's comment. He reached for the radio and tuned into the restricted naval frequency.

Quietly he spoke into the handpiece. "This is urgent! Put me through to the Fleet Commander's Office. Yes, this is," turning away, he dropped his voice even lower as if to conceal his plans from the others.

Eventually he readjusted the frequency and told Joe to send the water taxi to Garden Island to collect two navy divers and their gear.

His excuse seemed credible. "There are some naval manoeuvres and the navy is short of maritime transport. The divers will tell the taxi operator what they want to do but he must be trust worthy and able to keep his mouth shut."

Joe was quick to reassure him. "I can assure you of that. His son was one of the taxi drivers killed by Dingo."

Neither Peter nor Joe could understand Bill's good humor as he hummed, laughed and cackled as though he had taken leave of his senses.

A member of the crew brought them coffee which Bill gratefully welcomed, while the others, ignoring their mugs, just watched him.

The procession continued, The Pony Stable, the TV News crew and far behind a water taxi with the divers. Sedately they made their way down the Harbor until The Pony Stable turned into Athol Bight and dropped anchor.

Everyone looked at the Commander inquisitively waiting for the next step in the sequence.

The RSM grinned as a crewmember hoisted a message board stating, On Location.

Around the point, with a spume of spray fishtailing from the rear sped the water taxi. It made a wide sweep around the far side of The Pony Stable before heading back towards Circular Quay.

The Commander was quite at ease although no one was visible on The Pony Stable, not even the guards. To anyone watching he could have been half-asleep. When the cameramen left their cameras he growled, "Get back to work, you haven't seen anything yet. Watch Cremorne Point and watch The Pony Stable carefully. You are about to have a news scoop." He closed his eyes, relaxing, as he knew his plans were coming to fruition.

His fellow conspirators were not so relaxed. Peter, in his brightly colored life jacket was circling the deck like a white pointer ready to seize its prey. The RSM was studying the decks of their quarry through binoculars trying to see exactly what was happening on The Pony Stable. Joe was watching Peter carefully for any signs of hot headed, spontaneous reactions to rescue Jennifer from the floating whorehouse.

"Christ that boat's sinking!" was the yell from one cameraman. The other cameraman shouted, "So what, look what's coming around the Point."

Three rubber duckies thundered around the Point flying flags to indicate they were on naval exercise. Close behind was a Water Police patrol. One cameraman focused on The Pony Stable as it delicately settled lower and lower in the water. The other swung his camera between the naval rubber duckies and the Water Police.

The Water Police pulled alongside The Pony Stable and the police helped the women aboard the police launch.

It was obvious what had been happening aboard The Pony Stable as the women were in various stages of undress and the men were naked.

Peter was extremely agitated, trying to scrutiny each woman as the police rescued them. When he glimpsed a red headed woman, he recognized her immediately, even at that distance.

His scream like an animal in pain made the cameramen pay particular attention to his words, "No woman's face is to be recognized on the news. If it is, you answer to me." The tone of voice was enough to guarantee they complied.

The Commander was alert to the reactions of Peter as he was creating a scene that could undo the smooth, carefully planned operation. "Take us back to the Yacht Club immediately," was his order.

Back in the BMW Office Bill beamed. "At last! At long bloody last, I've nailed the bastard. No more drug running for him."

"Jennifer's safe - well not as safe as we all wish, but I was concerned they were about to rush out to sea and transfer the women to a ship in International Waters outside the reach of the Navy. However, we've stopped that caper.

"The navy is warned and we have the country covered and there's no way they'll fly out of Australia as the expensive plane which carried the two Arabs is on fire even as we speak. Strange that."

The phone rang and when he finished the call, his grin was even wider and was almost infectious. "The divers are examining the sunken wreck and they've found some interesting facts."

While the four were discussing their naval adventure, the tourist coach with its full load of travelers and the coach hostess, Susie, operating the microphone, wound its way along the tree lined streets of Hunters Hill.

The passengers constantly demanded that the coach stop, while they rushed out to take photos of the various mansions.

The guards at one set of gates were unwilling to pose and rudely ordered the tourists away but then had to open the gate to allow a big black Mercedes to leave.

The tourists swarmed through the open gates taking photographs of the guards, the guardhouse and the electronic surveillance gear.

Six Chinese and a handful of Tamils crowded around the guards so closely that the guards felt uncomfortable. These tourists kept the guards occupied while the Ghurkha sergeant and two of his specialists slipped into the guardhouse where they quickly made the surveillance equipment inoperable in such a way that it seemed to be working but was seeing nothing.

Quickly, the gatehouse guards tired of the tourists and their endless polite questions in English so heavily accented as to be almost unintelligible. While calling for reinforcements, the guards tried ushering the unwelcome tourists back to their coach.

Confusion reigned, especially as the savage guard dogs were disinterested in helping round up the tourists but instead hid behind their handlers.

Given a signal by the sergeant, Andrew gave a single toot on the air horn. The tourists obediently clambered back into the bus with much laughter and backslapping as they compared their pictures.

The last tourist aboard couldn't help teasing the guard. "See ya cobber," were his words as he swung aboard.

As the bus drove off the guard, puzzled, watch it disappear around the corner.

The other guards were thankful that they were able to get rid of the inquisitive, non-English speaking busybodies so quickly. They hadn't noticed anything missing, nor had they noticed that the gates wouldn't close correctly.

That evening the coach parked at Darling Harbor and the tourists caught the monorail to Chinatown.

The Tamils took Andrew and went off searching Chinatown for a suitable Indian Restaurant. They didn't attempt to give Andrew their names and made certain that other than an occasional heavily accented comment to him they rowdily conversed in Tamil.

Andrew noticed they cut quite a swathe though the evening crowd of Chinese who didn't seem anxious to tangle with Tamils.

The Chinese platoon, as the RSM called that group of tourists, escorted Susie to the Red Jade where she was kept dancing with various members of the group while they waited for their meal. The patrons were amused that the Chinese group seemed to be vying with each other for her company, as not once did she manage to complete a dance with a single partner.

Three tall Chinese who suddenly appeared in his kitchen startled the chef. They ignored his English and he shook when their guttural Cantonese barked orders for a meal.

The chef knew - he didn't need them to inform him - he was in the hands of a Tong, although where they came from, he had no idea.

With such pleasant smiles that he could ill ignore, they insisted the chef show them the toilets, the rear entrance to the lane behind the building, the scullery, the electronic surveillance and the pantry as though they were about to make a take-over bid.

The strangers demanded to see the bookings for each night and were surprised that the management was closing the venue the next night.

When questioned, the chef reluctantly admitted it was a private party for Dingo, some of his women and two Arabs. Trembling violently, the chef needed no warning about the crass stupidity of repeating anything said or the extreme personal danger of even mentioning the visit by these strangers.

It was no surprise to the group that the discourse at each table was recorded using a microphone hidden in the red dragon that formed the center piece of every table but one - the Boss's special, a permanently reserved table at the back of the dining room where it overlooked everything.

The meal arrived and Susie sat at the head of the table. The red dragon centerpiece had numerous bottles of Tiger Beer emptied over it for luck. The bath of beer resulted in a strange hissing and crackling noise.

"Don't alter a thing, not a single thing" was the direct caution by the person who seemed the leader of the group as they left.

The staff had every reason to look most worried.

At the motel, eventually growing hungry, Peter, Joe, the RSM and the Commander made their way to the dining room. The place seemed strangely empty as the four of them sat.

Suddenly the RSM sprang to his feet and dashed off. Moments later, he returned with his two daughters one of whom was carrying James.

Bill held out his arms and then tried to eat his meal one handed as he gave his son more attention than the food.

The RSM could only laugh. "Bill I had to fight my daughters to bring the young one down from his room. I believe he will be spoilt."

The room was no longer empty and quiet as James tried to join the chatter.

White with anxiety, Peter was silent and withdrawn as he thought of the family he and Jennifer had aimed to have.

The phone rang and Bill left to answer the call. He returned to inform them that the TV news at midnight would be interesting and an unabridged, uncensored version of their naval adventure was on its way.

At 11.45, they heard the rumble of the bus and waited for the tourists to arrive.

First into the room was Susie who immediately flared into anger because her baby was still out of bed although he was soundly asleep in his father's arms. The two babysitters instantly fled with James while Peter got beer and wine ready for everyone.

The RSM would not allow anyone to talk as the midnight news came on with a pre-view showing The Pony Stable slowly sinking. The newsroom had savagely edited the report that aimed to make viewers tune in the following day to watch the outcome.

Bill put the cd from the news crew in the player and everyone watched the complete photographic record of the event. When he saw the girls on the wharf at Balmain the RSM shouted "Stop! Go back a little I want to see those girls again. Okay... pause!"

Peter wept openly and Susie, although in a severe state of shock herself, just held his hands while repeatedly whispering. "She's alive, she's alive."

Jennifer was difficult to recognize with her hair cut short and a peculiar collar around her neck. Gone was the smartly dressed young lawyer. Instead, she looked like a highly priced whore.

The RSM moved closer to the screen to scrutinise the collar worn by each of the girls. Finally, he made the observation, "Those collars are electronic controls. If the girl says or does anything wrong, someone with the master control presses a switch and the girl is choked. It may only be for a significant instant but it can cause death.

"I suggest we don't try to rescue Jennifer or, indeed, any of the girls until we discover who's holding the master control."

His advice was enough to stop the viewing and Andrew, visibly upset, stumbled through his report on the bus trip.

Seeing his distress the Ghurkha sergeant holding three pieces of electronic gear aloft assisted him. The sergeant carefully explained how his men had immobilised the security. He guaranteed they could get through the security gate.

Loud teeth-sucking noises showed the disapproval of the Chinese for what they had seen. The Tamils were cracking their knuckles and the Ghurkhas had their hands on their khukuris.

Susie, Joe and Bill knew that their guests wouldn't rest until they eliminated Dingo and his men and Jennifer was free but at the same time Peter's mental state worried them.

Staring at the screen with tears pouring from his eyes Peter sat motionless and oblivious of the comments around him. Slumped in his chair, unblinking, he gazed at the screen, the torture of his concern for Jennifer's well being freezing his mind.

The leader of the Chinese then stood -- Susie never learnt his name. On the whiteboard, he drew a plan of the nightclub and explained in minute detail not only the layout but also the security system.

Next the Tamil leader gave full details of the laneway at the rear of the nightclub and the requirements for guaranteeing speedy and safe exit from the nightclub through the rear door. His face broke into a smile as he concluded his report pointing out that Andrew would have to have a lot of practice with chilies and learn to eat South Indian curries before leading them again.

Andrew could only groan.

****** THAT FATEFUL FRIDAY

Over breakfast next morning, the little army was busy with war plans outlining the evening's activities. Everyone seemed pleased to be pushing ahead with plans to rescue Jennifer.

The extended discussion of the evening's plans was interspersed with laughter as the morning papers, full of the mysterious sinking of The Pony Stable, arrived.

Peter was pleased there were no photos of the women. The cameramen had heeded his warning.

Much discussion followed and it was over two hours before the plans were satisfactorily finalized. Maps were drawn and the RSM delegated jobs.

Joe, Bill and Susie were to stay at the motel and keep themselves ready at the communications center. However Andrew was to drive the coach loaded with the two 'platoons' of tourists to Chinatown, unload then return to the motel.

Andrew was to take four Ghurkhas with him and he was to show them the route from the Motel to Chinatown. The Ghurkhas were to remain with the coach.

Eight Ghurkhas were to use cars from the used car lot and to be at Chinatown at 10 ready to collect their passengers in the laneway at the rear of the nightclub at a moment's notice. They were to carry their khukuris concealed.