Vigilante

by Brian Cain

CHAPTER THREE

  The Qantas 380 Airbus touched down at Sydney Kingsford Smith at ten past nine. Stanton had Holinger's phone in his possession and received a text message from Lu Fong the moment the plane touched down. Stanton returned a text message with a long shot, he was used to them. After a few texts back and forwards he convinced Fong that he would be picked up by Holinger's bodyguard who would guide Fong to Holinger. Stanton knew Fong loved power boats and Ford Mustangs and would use this weakness to perpetrate his downfall. Stanton chose a long coat similar to Holinger's and gold rim Ray-Ban sunglasses, typical trade marks of hired muscle. He also wore a triad ring acquired whilst sanctioning some members in earlier times, anything to throw Fong's thought train.

  At worst he would shoot them all in the airport and leave, messy but effective, a sign of the times. Stanton had however set up a far cleaner plan. Stanton had instructed Fong to text him when he was outside the terminal at the pickup point; these places are open, busy and confusing and Fong would have little time to think. He had put false plates on his 69 Supercharged Boss Mustang and text the plate number to Fong as the pick up vehicle. Stanton stood off awaiting his cue, Fong waited inside the glass door sending his two minders out to check things out. Fong text Stanton and Stanton made as much fuss as possible pulling up parking, obscuring and blocking any access. He climbed out and stood in view leaning against the front left fender the engine barking away at idle. He purposely played with the triad ring on his finger making sure it was in full view. Fong's minders were Japanese and looked Stanton up and down through their dark glasses.

  "Why you here?" asked the taller of the two.

  "Pick up Fong for Holinger," Stanton replied. The taller one walked inside and spoke to Fong. Fong gave his hand luggage to the taller one to bring out. Stanton took off his glasses and looked at the shorter minder in his neat black suit. "Piss ant bastard aren't you?"

  He waited a few seconds and calmly replied showing no emotion. "Me maybe kill you later, honky." Stanton smiled and put his glasses back on. The taller minder came out with the meagre hand luggage and Stanton opened the boot and stowed the cases. The shorter minder had opened the left door and Fong walked briskly out and got in the rear of the Mustang with the short minder. Fong was very short, thirty years old, round-faced, plump and balding. He watched the supercharger above the bonnet pulsating with life and was mesmerised. Stanton climbed in the driver's seat and the tall minder took the passenger seat. Fong looked at Stanton's ring brought to his attention by his minder. Fong spoke to Stanton.

  "The ring?" Stanton looked round.

  "Friends," replied Stanton.

  "Your car?" asked Fong.

  "Yes."

  "Nice car, you sell."

  "No."

  "We talk. Drive." Stanton engaged the supercharger, pulled away with a roar and clouds of blue smoke. Fong smiled, he was used to being herded around in the most inconspicuous ways possible and found the excitement intoxicating. Fong was all smiles. "Ahh, me like." His minders however did not share Fong's ease. The taller minder spoke very good English and looked at Stanton.

  "Where is Holinger?" he asked.

  "Circular Quay, he has a power launch waiting there and is making sure everything is clear. Cruise Sydney Harbour tonight." Fong nodded and smiled.

  "Ahhh, Holinger know me well, him good man," quipped Fong. The minders looked at each other. The taller one spoke to Stanton again.

  "You know this Stanton? We need to find him."

  "I know of him," replied Stanton.

  "Will he be easy to find?" asked the tall minder.

  "Real easy," Stanton said calmly. "Holinger will fix that for you." Stanton was careful not to attract too much attention and switched from gay abandon to conservatism wherever required as he headed closer to Circular Quay and his passengers watched the city go by as they rumbled into park under cover of a boat shed through an automatic door. A small power launch rippled back and forth on the waves at the dock inside the shed. Stanton climbed out and started to put the luggage in the launch. Fong stood to one side and had lit a giant cigar, puffing away like a contained bushfire. The taller minder looked in the launch and spoke to Stanton.

  "Where is this boat we are going to?" Stanton pulled binoculars out of the dash of the launch and handed them to the tall minder.

  "It's the Marie Celeste. She's two hundred metres out due east, blue and white, you can't miss her." The minder walked to the edge of the wharf and studied the ship. Stanton had set up Holinger's body sitting at a table on the rear deck. The stern of the Marie Celeste had a deep recess to accommodate launches. He handed the binoculars back to Stanton and spoke.

  "These binoculars are military; they are not available to the public."

  "I have friends, you want some?"

  "We need weapons and ammunition as well. We have only small plastic side arms to avoid detection; they are only good for defence, unsuitable for our needs."

  Stanton smiled at him widely and replied, "Don't worry about that, I’ll give you all the ammunition you need." The minder nodded and smiled.

  "Excellent, we go to see Holinger now."

  "No worries," grinned Stanton. Fong and the small minder again sat in the back and the tall minder next to Stanton, as he reversed the launch out of the dock shed he swigged on a hip flask. He knew Fong loved Bundy rum. Fong smelt the beverage as it wafted by.

  "You have Bundy?" asked Fong.

  "Yes you want some, here." Stanton offered the flask to Fong, he took the flask and began drinking the contents. It took only a couple of minutes to reach the Marie Celeste and dock the launch in her stern. The tall minder pulled a plastic pistol and ordered Stanton to stay where he was, climbed aboard the Marie Celeste and walked towards Holinger sitting at the table. The short minder spoke to Stanton.

  "I have seen you somewhere but I cannot remember, a picture maybe. Who are you?" Stanton climbed out of the launch. "You are to stay here as ordered."

  Fong had passed out, the victim of a powerful sleeping sedative in the rum he drank. The short minder lunged at Stanton from the launch, Stanton used his momentum to simply pin him the side of the launch with his knee in his groin. Stanton had already pulled a slim dagger from his belt.

  "My name’s Stanton, John Stanton," he whispered in the small minder’s ear as he plunged the dagger into his heart with his right hand, he coughed, exhaled and slumped to the floor. Stanton thrust the dagger two more times to make sure but the body was lifeless. He climbed the ladder to the deck and was met by the tall minder with his plastic pistol aimed at Stanton. The tall minder spoke sternly.

  "Who are you?"

  "My name’s John Stanton." The minder’s eyes grimaced.

  "Where is Fong?"

  "He's having a spell, must be the jet lag."

  "I need you to get me out of here so I am willing to let you live. You killed Holinger?"

  "Yes."

  "What kind of person are you, he is one of your own." Stanton's eyes filled with anger.

  "Holinger is a victim of greed, what is of significance is he discarded the boundaries of creed whilst doing it. I'm holding a 45 auto with a silencer under my coat in my right hand, you have a less than fifty percent chance with those plastic bullets in the toy gun you have, which is notoriously inaccurate and will not penetrate the bullet-proof jacket I'm wearing anyway. A head shot could be fatal though, now you have just one shot, so get on with it."

  "All I have heard of you is true; you are a cold-blooded killer, one of the best. Almost euphoric to come up against you. If I am killed by you I die with honour. I will make it as painle...." A dull thud was followed by the heavy thud of the minders body hitting the deck. Stanton had levelled his weapon and fired, hitting the minder directly in the heart.

  Stanton stood over the minder, unscrewing the silencer from his automatic Barretta pistol. He looked down at the minder as his eyes began to close and spoke. "If you're going to shoot, don't talk, shoot."

 
Stanton stood at the bow of the Marie Celeste six kilometres east of Sydney Harbour watching the sun clip the waves and send its golden beams across his face once more the following morning. He had chosen this spot on many occasions as the water was so deep that only droid submarines could venture to the sea floor. He had given Fong an antidote to the narcotic that had put him to sleep and Fong had come round and was trying to fathom what was happening. He blinked his eyes into focus and shouted at Stanton.

  "You, where my minders, why am I tied up, where Holinger?" Stanton walked from the bow and sat down on the bulkhead adjacent to where Fong was tied up on the deck. A chain was shackled to Fong's legs and the chain was attached to a refrigerator tethered to the side of the ship’s guardrail by a quick release hook. The release cable for the hook led to a foot switch on the deck next to Fong's face. Stanton looked down at Fong, opened a can of coke and took a swig.

  "I killed your father, got to him before Holinger. Tell me what kind of person arranges to have his father killed when he is already one of the ten richest people in the world, not that your father deserved to live."

  "You… Stanton."

  "Yes."

  "You die soon, everybody look for you."

  "Maybe but that's not today, today you die."

  "I give you money; anything, just let me go." Fong wriggled intensely trying to release his bonds.

  "How many innocent people are you and your father responsible for indirectly wiping out with your indiscriminate sales plans to just the African states alone? How many kids have failed rehab, how many didn't even make rehab from the tons of drugs you sell to dealers? Do you still have the twelve year old girl at home you bought in from the Russian? You made a mistake when you began dealing in military weapons with Holinger. Now I act where others have failed."

  "Me kill no one, me no understand some of your words. Someone else kill me only pay. Same for you I have plenty money, women, anything."

  "You asked about your minders and Holinger, they have gone for a swim to the same depth as you in fact. Well been real nice sitting here having a yarn with you but I'm a busy man and got to go. When you get to wherever you're going tell them I sent you, bye." Stanton stamped on the release lever with his left foot, the latch holding the concrete-filled fridge up released and it fell into the water; the chain snapped tight dragging Fong screaming across the deck of the Marie Celeste. His screams were muffled when he disappeared below the sea’s surface. Stanton watched as he went out of sight. He walked to the bow of the Marie Celeste and watched the sun rise above the ocean rim, only then did he pull anchor and head for Sydney.

  The British consulate had office space at Customs House Sydney, some on the top floor overlooking Circular Quay. Bruce Hurst tailing Fong for MI6 had come in on the same plane as Fong but had lost them when Stanton left the terminal. He was aware of Stanton's boat facilities and watched the morning harbour traffic around Stanton's mooring for the Marie Celeste banking that Stanton had disposed of Fong at sea. His powerful telescope could pick out faces on the busy ferry. He was rewarded for his diligence when the Marie Celeste tied up at her mooring and Stanton motored to his shed in his launch. He watched the Mustang pull out of the shed gate but as the door was closing the muscle car stopped and Stanton got out. He looked towards Customs House and presented his middle finger for Hurst’s view, climbed back in his car and headed home. Hurst took his eye away from the telescope and shook his head.

  "Shit!" he muttered. He made a call to MI6 and booked a flight to London.