by Nick Hawkes
“Why?”
“The glass is simply for keeping the vellum flat and safe once we’ve opened it. The lamp box with the ultraviolet light is where we put the vellum each night so that the UV-light can kill off any mold. Sydney’s humid climate is bad for mold. We can’t afford for any of it to grow on the treaty. Mold loves calfskin.”
Carter nodded. “What else?”
“I need to be able to make steam and feed it with a hose into the box. The vellum needs to sit on a Teflon coated cake rack.” She tried to sound as professional as she could. It wasn’t easy with her hands tied and feeling so bruised and disheveled. “I’d need a ten percent solution of urea in ethanol; a good quality misting bottle plus tweezers and spatulas.”
Carter took out a notebook and jotted down the details. When he finished, he nodded to the other man, who started the engine. Soon, the van joined a stream of traffic threading its way through the city heading north over Sydney Harbour Bridge.
They arrived in paradise. It was bewildering. The van door opened and Felicity was hustled down a small pontoon onto a rigid inflatable speedboat. Around her, boats bobbed at their moorings on a perfect blue sea. Gulls cried and squabbled overhead. Offshore, a sailing boat was heeling to the wind—and a little metal dinghy, a tinny, with an outboard motor buzzed across the glittering sea. Felicity thought she must be somewhere in the Hawkesbury Estuary, probably Pittwater. Expensive houses peeped out from the heavily wooded shores of the harbor.
Their speedboat sped across the sea curving around the headlands and bays in which more boats were moored until it slowed down and edged up to the stern quarter of a beautiful, white hulled ketch. Green awnings had been rigged over the length of the deck to keep the boat cool. She caught sight of the name painted on her bow, Excelsior.
Eddie hauled Felicity into the yacht’s cockpit. As he did, he held her to himself. She felt his sexual tension. Hard and hungry eyes bored into her. He whispered, “I’m going to enjoy you, bitch.” His hand moved up to her breast, “There will be pain, I promise.”
The terror and intimidation was shocking, mind-numbing and disorientating…but Eddie had pushed too far. Felicity knew she had nothing to lose. She would be killed, probably horribly, once she was no longer useful. She lifted her chin and spoke loudly enough for all three men to hear. “Eddie, if I ever feel that I have nothing to hope for except torture, humiliation, and death, I will crush the manuscript into a million fragments, do you hear?”
He drew back a hand to strike her.
Carter tapped Eddie on the arm.
He froze, in mid strike. No one moved. She stared at him. “Let me assure you that I will work hard and well at restoring the manuscript, but it will not happen unless you respect me and provide for my basic needs.”
It was a terrible gamble.
Silence.
Carter eventually broke the impasse by pushing past and unlocking the hatchway doors into the saloon. She breathed out slowly, giddy with relief. It was a victory, of sorts.
Felicity climbed down the companionway steps into the main saloon. It had wood paneling everywhere and looked very luxurious.
Carter became business-like as he led her along the corridor at the far end. “I’ll be in the cabin on the left. Eddie will be in this one on the right. Another, er…crewman will be in the main saloon.” He pushed open a door at the end of the corridor. “You’re in the forepeak. There are two berths and a toilet. You’ll find it under the step in front of the chain locker.” He rapped on a door just outside the forepeak. “There’s a shower unit in here which you will be allowed to use once a day. Meals and any laundry will be brought by boat daily.” He moved aside to let Felicity pass into the narrow confines of the forepeak.
There were no windows, only a hatchway in the deck above them. It had a clear polycarbonate cover allowing it to act as a skylight. Disturbingly, she could see that it was locked shut with a padlock.
Carter passed Felicity’s trolley bag through to her. “You’ll be locked into the forepeak at all times except for your daily shower.” He stretched his neck and continued. “I’ll be taking the boat to a wharf once a week to take on fresh water and have the sewerage pumped out. Eddie will sit with you during those occasions.” Carter furrowed his brow as if trying to think of something else to say. “Now, give me any clothes you want to have washed. I’ll get it sorted. I’ll also collect the equipment you need to restore the document. It may take a day or two, so I suggest you make yourself comfortable.”
Chapter 18
Benjamin could see the family likeness immediately. Dr Michael Anderson was short, dark, and looked very fit. He stood at the front door of his house in bare feet, jeans, and a faded blue pullover. It was evident that when the good doctor was not doctoring, he liked to kick back and relax. He was holding a toy dart gun.
“Is that loaded?” asked Ben.
The doctor looked at the gun and smiled apologetically. “Roughhouse time before bath and bed for the kids. How can I help you?”
“I’m Benjamin Bidjara.” He indicated Archie standing next to him. “And this is Archie Hammond. We’re friends of Felicity. She’s contracted us to help build her bull-nosed verandas.”
The doctor nodded. “Of course. You’re the one who rescued Flick when she got into trouble.”
Benjamin nodded.
The doctor looked at him appraisingly. “She’s, aah…spoken of you quite a lot. Come in, please. I’m Michael, by the way.”
Benjamin and Archie stepped inside. “Michael, I don’t want to take up your time, but I do want to show you a note we received from Felicity earlier today to see if you can make sense of it.” Benjamin dug the note out of his pocket. “Archie and I have been, er…helping her with some of her historical research and were due to pick her up from the Melbourne Museum to take her home when we were given this note.” He shrugged. “It was left at the reception desk.” Benjamin handed the note to the doctor.
As he read it through, the doctor’s brow immediately furrowed with concern. He looked up and said, “You didn’t have a row or anything?”
“Not at all. Things were going, ah…pretty well, and she was happy. That’s why we’re here. We want to know if she’s contacted you.”
The doctor shook his head. “Nope. Not at all.” He tapped the letter against his jeans. “I’ve got to say…this is way out of character for Flick. It doesn’t even sound like her, let alone fit in with how she behaves.”
Benjamin nodded. “That’s what we think. There’s only one other possibility we can think of, and that’s her involvement with a guy who came to see her the other day from the Khayef Group. Felicity told me he’d left her his card. I’d like to contact him, if you think that’s okay, to see if Felicity is with him discussing a research grant or something.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows. “I suppose so.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Would you be able to look around Felicity’s desk and see if you can find the guy’s business card?”
“Sure. Wait here a moment, and I’ll have a look.”
Squeals could be heard over the sound of water splashing into a bath.
The doctor came back three minutes later. “Here. This must be it.” He glanced at the card. “Andrew Carter.” He handed it to Benjamin.
Benjamin took a pen out of his pocket, wrote the number down on his hand, and gave the card back. “Thanks, Michael. I’ll investigate it and get back to you if I still feel there’s reason for concern.”
The doctor took the card and nodded. “I’d be grateful.” He glanced at Benjamin. “You know, Flick’s been pretty fired up and happy these last few weeks…ever since she’s known you.” He tapped the card onto his hand. “I don’t want her hurt.”
Benjamin dropped his head. “Believe me when I say the very last thing I want to do is to cause Felicity pain.” He looked up. “I’d rather die.”
Benjamin could hear Phoebe’s measured breathing on the other end of the line as he gave her
Andrew Carter’s mobile number and voiced his concerns. “So, that’s my fear. I don’t think there can be any other explanation.”
“Thank you, Benjamin,” said Phoebe, much as a sergeant major would dismiss a report from a corporal. “I’ll investigate things and get back to you. Please, may I speak with Mr. Hammond?”
Benjamin handed the phone to Archie. He couldn’t help feel as if he was a child being banished from grown-up talk. He walked over to the bench where the panels for Marjorie’s tapestry box were being clamped together by sash cramps.
He undid the cramps and began to mark the panels with a setsquare, so they were ready for cutting. He’d cut them to length tomorrow morning and then dove-tail the ends using a router. Both the radial arm saw and the router were noisy machines. It would be unkind to use either of them at this time of night.
His eye fell on the length of stinkwood sitting under the bench. It brought back a fresh wave of anxiety for Felicity. Four weeks to die. It was shocking, numbing, and unbelievable. He had to do something physical with his hands, or he feared he would go mad. Benjamin chocked the small log in the woodworker’s vice and used a handsaw to dock the ends. Then he picked up a pencil and began to draw the dimensions of a coolamon dish. It was men’s work. A coolamon was something men made for their women—and so he would make one for Felicity. It was his act of defiance.
Archie forestalled any further work. “Benji, boy, we need to talk,” he said as he slipped his phone into his pocket.
Benjamin reached for a stool and sat down. He leaned on the bench with his head in his hands. Archie slid into the other stool and studied him from under pale eyelashes. “How ’ya feeling, mate?”
“Bloody angry... Terrified for Felicity...” He rubbed his forehead, “…weary of being helpless and pathetic.”
Archie nodded. “Would you be ready for a bit of action, then?”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Anything to help Felicity. What did you have in mind?”
“I’d better warn you, it will probably be dangerous, certainly very physical…and we’ll be operating within a legally gray area.” Archie drummed two fingers on the bench top. “And, we need to start now. I don’t think Felicity has anything like four weeks before she finds her life threatened.”
“What! Why?”
“Because nothing’s guaranteed. We need to find her as soon as possible.”
Benjamin nodded.
“Phoebe will ring back at any moment with a fix on the location of Carter’s phone. If he’s got it switched on, it’ll be pinging the local cell towers, so ASIO will be able to locate it. If it stays centered in one area, I’m prepared to act on it in the expectation that Flick will probably be nearby.”
“What can I do?” It was such a simple question, but it caused energy and hope to begin seeping back into Benjamin’s heart.
“I want you to make a phone call and leave a message for the boss of the Khayef Group, inviting him to come down and talk with you. You’ll need to meet somewhere safe and public. Almost certainly, you won’t keep the appointment, but we need to see what gets flushed out by your invitation—so we have a chance of getting evidence of their involvement.”
“Payphone or mobile?”
“They’ll already have your number, mate, so use your mobile. Let ‘em know they’re not staring you down.” He tapped on his phone. “I’ve got their number here…and the name of the head honcho is Doran Khayef, so address your message to him. If it isn’t Khayef, he’ll ask around his associates and pass it on.” Archie smiled. “It’s time to disturb the ants’ nest. If you call now, it will simply be a message left at reception for the boss, so you won’t have any awkward questions to field.”
Four minutes later, Benjamin made the call. “Mr. Khayef, my name is Benjamin Bidjara. You or one of your senior associates is trying to get hold of me. I suspect you have someone I’d very much like to see again, and I am prepared to sign a waiver of any claim you think I might have on your business. But in view of your recent behavior, you will only get one shot at this before I go to higher authorities. So, I want to meet with you, or the associate leading Khayef’s interests concerning me, in three days’ time—this Wednesday at the Giddy Tuna café in Port Fairy. Let’s meet at 8am. Please sit at an outside table with…” Benjamin paused. “…a red carnation in your button hole.” He rang off.
Archie raised an eyebrow. “A red carnation?” He shook his head. “Hackneyed…and a little cruel…but probably useful.”
“Mate, you’ve no idea how cruel I’m feeling right now. What do we know about this Khayef guy?”
“Phoebe has given me a bit of a run down. He’s doing this big building development on Sydney Harbour; owns the biggest gold mines in Victoria; and is being investigated for all sorts of dodgy deals with union officials, biker stand over merchants, and politicians.” Archie rubbed his beard. “We knew most of that already. But what I’ve also been told is that he’s sold his waterfront home and is currently living on his two million dollar motor launch—poor bloke. He’s parked it at The Quays Marina in Pittwater.”
Benjamin studied the photo. The curving lines of the boat were accentuated by a continuous dark glass window running the length of the deck cabin. He closed his eyes and leaned back trying to get a mental picture of a person who would choose to own such a thing. Ambitious…prideful…fragile self-esteem…impatient. Probably ruthless. Could such a person be behind Felicity’s abduction?
Easily, he decided.
He stared at the boat, seeing everything it represented…and hated it. “What can we do to bring this bastard down?” he asked hoarsely.
“Whoa. Hold on, buddy. First we’ve got to check that he’s involved with Flick and the treaty thing.”
Benjamin nodded, but he already knew. “What else can you tell me?”
“The Khayef Group is in thick with the Saracen motorbike gang.”
“And?”
“The Saracens are running forty kilograms of methamphetamine—ice—from Adelaide to Melbourne in a semi-trailer. The police are planning to stop and raid it at Beaufort on the Western Highway. Evidently, they’ve had someone working undercover—they’ve been planning this raid for over two years.”
“Forty kilograms of ice. Sounds a lot.”
“With a street value of a little under a million dollars per kilogram, it certainly is.”
Benjamin whistled. “But how does that help us?”
“No idea. I’m just giving you the info Phoebe’s managed to get. Needless to say, we can’t breathe a word of it to anyone.” Archie looked up at Benjamin. “You can’t use it as a bargaining chip to get Flick back. So don’t even think about it.”
Benjamin had already thought about it—and discarded it. It would put Archie in prison for a lifetime. But his mind continued to swirl with ideas, passions, and fears. Forty million dollars’ worth of drugs…and a luxury motor yacht. How could this information be used to destroy Khayef?
“When are they moving it?” Benjamin asked.
“In three days’ time. It’s an overnight run. Evidently, the gear will be in a container full of fertilizer bags on the back of the semi.”
Benjamin looked out of the window to where a streetlight was shining across the road. The wind was rising, causing leaves to skitter across the pavement. He could hear the squeak of the wind-vane on his neighbor’s garage. The tin cockerel was complaining again as it see-sawed in the face of the wind.
An idea began to form in his mind. It was outrageous…
Archie’s phone rang. Benjamin could only hear a little of the muffled conversation. He watched Archie reach for a pen, make a brief note, and then end the call. He looked up at Benjamin and said, “Benji, fire up your computer and look for McCarrs Creek near Pittwater, Sydney. Mr. Carter’s phone is currently located somewhere near its headwaters.”
“What on earth is at McCarrs Creek?”
“A sailing boat belonging to a guy who is currently overseas on business. Seems h
e’s in Frankfurt and isn’t due back for another two months. Carter must be using his boat in his absence.”
Benjamin nodded. “It would be a perfect location to hide someone. Can we go and investigate it?”
“Are you up for it?”
“Yes but what will it involve? How will we do it?”
Archie picked up a metal ruler from the bench top and held it upright in front of his nose. “Sword drill, mate. Sword drill.”
Benjamin got down from his stool and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension he was feeling. The idea of actually doing something was hugely attractive. The question was, could they do more? He took a deep breath and decided to broach his idea. “Um…Archie, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Khayef’s boat and this other yacht are both in Pittwater. Do you suppose we could, er…combine two operations into one?”
“What’s on your mind, mate?”
Benjamin told him.
When he had finished, Archie rubbed the back of his neck. “Benji boy, you certainly have some outrageous and morally questionable ideas.”
“Is it worth considering?”
“Maybe. But it’s high risk.”
“Too high?”
“Well, it just so happens that I once trained for an exercise pretty similar to this.” He smiled. “It was a blast.”
“Sword drill?”
Archie nodded. “We’ll do a swift exercise now to see if it’s even remotely feasible, and then do it again in more detail if we reckon it’s a goer.”
Half an hour later, Benjamin looked at his watch. “It’s nine o’clock. If we want to make any phone calls tonight, we probably shouldn’t leave them any later.” He leaned back and stretched. “One of the big questions we have is whether we can get a boat. Why don’t I ring Felicity’s brother? The Shark Cat would be ideal.”
Archie nodded, and Benjamin made a call to Michael Anderson. “Hi Michael, it’s Benjamin Bidjara here. We’ve just received a bit of information that might tell us where Felicity is. Are you able to come over to the workshop for a few minutes? Fine. Thanks. See you in a bit.”
