Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 29

****** Sunday

The day dawned wet and dreary and the cold wind howling around the motel seemed to find its echo in Peter's soul. He spread the diaries, the ledgers, the DVDs and videos across his bed.

Breakfast had been a riot of laughter as the girls - closely guarded by Susie and Maria began to organize a shopping trip. Peter unable to deal with the hilarity returned to his room where he brooded alone.

Then his morbid silence was shattered when the girls entered the room. With their faces free of terror, their eyes sparkling and their walk so confident the girls approached. They hugged Peter and kissing his cheek. The last merely stated everyone's prayer. "She will be safe!"

Then each, with their guards carrying huge wads of Dingo's money, left in the coach with two mother hens, Susie and Maria, who were determined to guard their chickens.

Grabbing the RSM, Peter thrust a wad of extra money into his hands. "That's for Susie, Maria and James."

Hours later, at the end of the business day, Peter had his head down, studying the ledgers and making notes when Joe burst into the room.

"Our mates in Bathurst have delivered the trailer and god it stinks! Basically, the cattle must do nothing more than piddle and cack. The clever buggers must hold it for weeks. Quite stomach turning it is. Now explain your plan."

Later, once the workers had left at the end of the day, the two of them backed the trailer into the workshop and unhitched the prime mover, which drove away. Joe firmly closed the shutters and the workshop was in cold gloom.

In the motel dining room, that evening the girls gave the men a show, displaying their new purchases. Peter sat back and considered that if the breakfast was a festivity what was this? Every girl paraded in her new finery to the tunes from the public address and they actually glowed with their makeup and new clothes. The men had made a catwalk of tables and clapped each one as they paraded.

When the girls eventually finished the parade, the men began to chant, "More, more, more, more, more," much to the women's amazement. Then Joe and Bill grabbed Susie and Maria hustling them out amidst much laughter led by the girls.

Bill returned to introduce the two women who played up as they pranced and minced their way down the catwalk to hoots of laughter and catcalls from the men.

The parade ended and a little Malay girl took the microphone from Bill. " Tuan-tuan dan Puan-puan! Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm speaking for all of us when I say to you that God must be smiling tonight that such people have rescued us from terror. Here we are, well fed, happy, extremely well dressed, each with our own laptops and buckets of programs, and pockets full of money."

When her words faltered, the RSM showed that he was human after all as he joined her and held her against his broad chest while she wept. Slowly she looked around the room before continuing.

"Each night we all prayed that an end would come to our misery but never once did we believe this would be the end. You've told us we are travelling away to the protection of Andrew and his extended family at Blake Pastoral.

"Peter," she stepped down off the catwalk and walked to him. She held his hands in hers. "We'll be praying that your lovely wife who supported us while she was part of the misery will be returned to you. We also pray that death does not come quickly to the monsters that held us, who sold us and who tortured us."

She turned to Susie and Maria. "We thank you. Now we know we have two Australian mothers. We are especially thankful for your advice in our purchases today and we know that although we're leaving tonight we'll be back another time."

Andrew parked the coach at the entrance then supervised the loading of expensive luggage. Peter gave a wry smile as he noted the number of iPods and laptops that girls carried as they clambered aboard. The girls did not miss a single man as they gave everyone a kiss.

The Ghurkhas were most embarrassed at the public display of affection, breaking into Nepali and teasing one another, threatening to tell each other's wives about their girl friends. Those staying behind gave much good-humored advice to the four who were to act as escorts for the girls and when the RSM also swung aboard, the few outside the coach swamped him with more instructions that were supposedly helpful.

"Take the direct route, Andrew, don't go back through Bathurst. You'll have to tell your parents about what's happening. Don't go far from a phone. God willing, I'll be bringing a load of cattle down on perhaps Wednesday or Thursday. Drive safely."

Andrew was too busy with the traffic to spot the two cars manned by Ghurkhas following him. Peter was leaving nothing to chance.

Joe and Peter made their way to the workshop and began their work. By sunrise, a false floor, in the livestock trailer, was complete. As Peter straightened his aching back, he chuckled.

"Wonder how our guests will enjoy their prison transport to Victoria?"

****** Monday

The newspapers openly reported that two police officers were attending a court hearing into police corruption. Realizing that the two named featured prominently in Dingo's journals, Peter grimly smiled as he made his lethal preparations.

At midday, a man in an expensive, immaculate, business suit and carrying an attaché case with a camera slung around his neck made his way to the foyer of the Law Courts in Phillip Street where he sat waiting. No one even noticed when this well-dressed grey haired businessman stood. An elevator opened and the two police officers stepped out.

What was so unusual when the man dropped to one knee to tie his shoelace?

One police officer seemed to trip then the second collapsed face down in the foyer. Why would anyone report that the grey haired man had disappeared camera, attaché case and all?

The evening news officially disclosed the fact that two senior police officers who had appeared at the Investigation into Police Corruption were dead. A highly skilled assassin had been busy in the Law Courts in broad daylight. Again, police could find no clues except that the weapon used was the favorite choice of hit men.

On the second page was a report that a prominent church leader suspected of being involved in the crime world had committed suicide.

When a member of the Chinese contingent overheard Peter, trying to book a flight to Hong Kong the Chinese forced him to cut short his call. Two Tamils stood at the door while two Chinese urged Peter to the conference table.

"Now tell us what's going on. We've been very patient but we flew down here to help and you really haven't used our various talents very well. Our boss isn't happy that he can't repay a little of what he owes. You've been locked up in that room, brooding, so now explain."

Silently, Peter returned to his room and picked up the ledgers before returning to lay the books before them. He didn't need to read the data aloud to his Chinese friends.

As they read silently, they were not impressed. One Chinese pointed at the politician's name. The records showed the repairs the doctor had made after he used Jennifer for his sexual gratification.

A burst of wild laughter from the Chinese shocked Peter, but the icy cold intonation of Cantonese echoing from the ceiling made him shiver. The Chinese contingent was making plans.

Then the words changed to English. "Susie, could we have a scrambled phone line please?" Peter heard the leader shout down the hallway.

The Chinese leader took the phone and, after dialling an international number, barked into the mouthpiece.

Peter needed no translator. His Cantonese was excellent and he listened attentively.

"Hmm! He's attending a State Reception, eh? Well he isn't to leave the building alive. Yes that's right," patiently Peter's Chinese guest repeated himself, "he isn't to leave the building alive. Who cares? Poisoned, shot, stabbed. I'm sure he won't care and if you can make his premature death a lingering one so much the better. He's annoyed our friend."

"Next?"

Peter knew The Little One was a cold-hearted killer but their callous attitude shocked even him as they took the ledgers and began to mark a green tick against those who had died. When a name had no tick, one of the group either a Tamil or a Chinese copied the particulars and left. Some of those who left were away a long time and others were quick to return, but Peter noted that every time anyone returned a green tick appeared against a name.

It was late and time to sleep when Peter noted that the only names without ticks were the father and son duo, of Pretty Boy and Dingo. He grinned knowing that they were his - his to teach the enjoyment of The Little One's vengeance.

****** Tuesday

A breathless and flushed Joe interrupted breakfast. "The telephonist at the Dingo's hotel is the daughter of one of the drivers and the sister of one of the lads Dingo killed. She just rang to tell me that Dingo rang the doctor ordering him to be 'there' tomorrow to prepare Red for the trip of her lifetime. Red is to be unconscious for 24 hours but when she wakes she'll be a pony among all the camels. She said the laughter of both of them was horrible."

The news impressed nobody.

Peter, aware that the last throw of the dice had fallen his way, asked Joe to ring Bathurst and to inform the yard manager of the urgency of having the Blake Pastoral Company prime mover at the workshop on Wednesday morning.

"No need to worry," the yard manager told Joe. "Tell Peter it's less than half an hour away from you in a storage yard where no one would ever look. Just give the word and it'll be there. Now when do you want it?"

Peter could hear the conversation and smiled as he noted the yard boss of the trucking company spoke in the same dialect as Joe. He just shrugged as Joe translated the casual discussion before returning to the conversation.

Peter interrupted, "Ask the Boss to organize a load of frisky, well fed steers for me to pick up on the way through please. Say Wednesday evening." He turned away and allowed Joe to continue his talk.

Laughing Joe ended the dialogue but Peter had another request. "Tonight we camouflage the van in the yard as a carpet salesman's unit. We'll need some carpet rolls in it. Can we do it?"

Joe's eyes twinkled. "Maria's family and I came from the same village. Now we stick together. Her family is the carpet seller of Sydney and I understand a van of theirs needs some repairs. Hang on"

Not twenty minutes later a carpet van rolled into the workshop. Stepping out of the van the driver waved at Joe as he rushed to another waiting vehicle -- his job complete.

They inspected the van and noted that in the back were many carpet off-cuts and a note had been left on the front seat. 'Just as well you are good a good husband to my niece, Maria. We don't need the off-cuts and they can't be traced to us.' Joe did the translation. 'Ring us Joe when the van is resprayed and repaired although you couldn't repair a hole in a sieve.'

That night the plan to rescue Jennifer was finalized and Peter was confident that Dingo's rule was ending. The turmoil in his mind of retracing the details of the rescue seeking flaws in the plan, plus the excitement that Jennifer would soon be back in his life was too much to allow him to rest.

****** Wednesday

Sitting in their carpet van at a Service Station only one block from the brothel, Peter watched the Chinese leader speaking on the phone inside the shop. The Chinese returning to Peter spoke to the cashier with a pure Australian accent, "Thanks mate, see ya." No one would suspect that this Chinese was anything but born and bred in Australia.

"Let's go. The black Mercedes is just turning into the street outside the brothel. There are two cars accompanying it. Our quarry includes six bullyboys, Dingo, Pretty Boy, Jennifer and one other. The driver assumes it's another bodyguard. The full party is one woman and nine men. Now they have parked in the street outside and have all gone into the building."

Peter parked the van behind the last car of Dingo's group. A taxi pulled up and four well-dressed Asian men alighted. They followed the two workers who alighted from the carpet van and who were carrying their bags of tools.

Dressed as a workman, Peter seemed to have a cigarette dangling from his lips. He used the raging bull key to open the door ignoring the second, the third and the fourth taxis that had stopped to unload equally well-dressed Asian men.

Leading the way into the main room of the brothel Peter came face to face with Pretty Boy and four of the bullyboys.

"You bastard, what have you fuckin' done?" Pretty Boy snarled. The 'cigarette' in Peter's mouth spewed its little dart into his neck injecting its paralysing drug. He tumbled to the floor. The bullyboys dropped like stunned mullets as Chinese hands savagely chopped into each throat sending them unconscious to the floor.

It was quick, it was noiseless and the Chinese seemed to melt away leaving Peter standing over the body of Pretty Boy.

Behind him, Peter felt the door open. When he heard a sharp intake of breath knew Dingo had arrived.

"Well, well! So Scarface supposed he could rescue his harlot wife eh?" Sneering, Dingo felt safe behind the Walter P38 from his car. "Pity you won't be making the trip with her. We sold her for a pretty penny, believe me, but you'll never see her."

In his foolishness Dingo continued, "You know you shouldn't be smoking, it's bad for your health - not that you'll be living much longer."

Dingo never knew what hit him as he crashed to the floor, paralysed, with a dart in his throat.

Peter led the way to the kitchen where two more bullyboys stood against the wall white faced and trembling.

Standing ready to garrotte their prisoners, the Tamils guarding them were fingering long silken strands looped over the prisoner's heads and around their necks. The cupboard concealing the steps was hanging haphazardly from the wall.

Peter leapt to the bottom of the short staircase with his Uzi in his hand.

The doctor and the nurse both raised their hands as two of the Chinese joined Peter.

"Take them!" said Peter, without hesitation.

Completely disregarding the fact that the nurse was a woman the Chinese beside him treated them in exactly the same way - a single blow to their throats to drop them like two stones into a pond.

"Bring the bolt cutters!" Peter bellowed up the steps. Then turning again into the room, he faced his worst fears.

Taking a step forward, he could feel the bile rising in his throat as he confronted the unconscious naked woman on the operating table. As if the end of his world had come, he struggled to recognize the person who now looked so little like his Jennifer.

The gang had cut her long red tresses short and her face was a mask of pain. The drugs the doctor had injected had made her into a zombie. She had no pubic hair and her sex was bloody. Even her thighs were blood stained. Fine silver chains joined the nipple rings to the clit ring inserted into her body and Peter started to weep.

When Peter bent to kiss her, she didn't taste like Jennifer. He whispered, "You are safe now," as he carefully manipulated the bolt cutters and removed the collar.

The sheet below her was soaked with blood.

Peter had no warning of the extent of her abuse. Frozen, he tried to comprehend her injuries. Peter felt gentle hands coming to rest on his shoulder forcing him to stand aside.

Quietly the Ghurkha surgeon from the farm consoled him. "Jennifer is my care now and she will recover." He called up the stairs in Nepali and two Ghurkhas arrived and, after carefully wrapping her in blankets, carried her to the waiting Mercedes.

Suddenly Peter realized one of his trusted Tamil friends was speaking to him.

"The carpet rolls containing our prisoners -- the bullyboys, the doctor, the nurse, Pretty Boy and Dingo are loaded in the van. It's quite an interesting load! Joe is waiting to take you with Jennifer and the surgeon in the second Mercedes. She's wrapped in blankets and is as comfortable as our surgeon can make her."

Peter was relieved to leave the brothel. He did not realize it was so late when Joe opened the workshop and the van rolled in beside the cattle trailer followed by the Mercedes.

Pushing Peter aside, the Ghurkha surgeon assumed responsibility for Jennifer's wellbeing. Peter felt relief that at last Jennifer was receiving the medical attention she so desperately needed.

While the surgeon attended to Jennifer, Joe and Peter unloaded the cargo of rolled up carpets and slid them under the false floor of the trailer but not before sealing every mouth and binding arms and legs so there could be no kicking. There would be no sounds and no movement from the prisoners. Peter could only wonder what Dingo would think when he realized his 'wife' and Pretty Boy were beside him.

The criminal doctor, the nurse and eight of Dingo's guards made up the load of a dozen captives. The rest of Dingo's associates were dead.

The Blake Pastoral truck was standing ready with the trailer hitched behind when Peter donned his overalls and his welding gloves. He wept silently when he saw the pathetic little body that was Jennifer lying unconscious on the bed behind the driver's seat. Yet he felt relieved that the Ghurkha surgeon was travelling with them.

The surgeon had taken care to make her as comfortable as possible.

"No! I need no guards with me. The surgeon and I can look after any mishaps." Peter adamantly rejected help. "I'll pick up those steers tonight and continue home. Joe, thank the taxi drivers and everyone involved. I'm most grateful. You keep your workshop going. Okay? Tell Maria she has a wonderful husband. I could never have succeeded without my friends."

No one exchanged words of farewell. None were needed as Joe hugged Peter almost crushing him in his bear-like grip. Peter swung into the cab and drove off into the traffic without a backward glance.

He was taking his wife home.

He saw a number of cars fall into place behind him and knew his friends were determined that he would arrive safely with his precious cargo, his wife.

There was no requirement for tablets tonight. There was no need for anything but food. At a trucker's café, he ordered meals for the surgeon and himself and carried them back to the cab.

He phoned Andrew telling him he was still short of Bathurst where he had to load the steers.

Andrew wasn't interested. "What about Sis?" He knew where his priorities lay.

"Oh? You mean my wife?" In spite of all that had happened, Peter couldn't help teasing her brother.

"You're a proper bastard. Where's Jennifer?"

"She's asleep on the bed behind the driver's seat - but she's in very bad shape. Give the nurse a message from the surgeon. She is to prepare the operating theatre as Jennifer is on the way and needs immediate attention. It's as though the bastards set out to destroy her as a woman.

"Oh, by the way, we have twelve guests," he continued. "Could you and Dad," the word slipped out but it felt good, "prepare some accommodation for some short term guests near the wild boar pens? They won't be staying long. How are all our other guests?

"Tell Mum I have Jennifer and the surgeon with me. We'll be there soon, as I'll be loading the steers in about an hour's time and will drive straight down. Bye."

He didn't wait for any further questions but attacked the medium rare steak and chips when they arrived. The fried egg was excellent as was the pile of toast, and the meal contained enough energy to see them through the long journey into the night.

As they ate, all he could think of was the wretched, pitiful shell of a woman who had travelled, without moving, in the bed behind his driver's seat. His heart ached at her injuries and trauma but he knew he loved her more than ever and wanted to hold her safe from the world.