by P. J. Nash
Dark Angel
James & Sandersen Files Book 2
PJ Nash
Contents
Also by PJ Nash
Preface
Prologue
I. Kowloon, Hong Kong
Jinonice Metro Station, Prague
Nathan Road, Kowloon, Hong Kong.
Ned Kelly's Last Stand, Kowloon.
Vaclav Havel Airport, Prague
Motol Hospital, Prague.
Sheraton Hotel, Hong Kong
Incident Room, Smichov Police Station, Prague
Sheraton Hotel, Hong Kong
Old Town, Prague
Ned Kelly’s Last Stand, Kowloon
Geologicka Tram Stop, Hlubocepy, Prague
Ned Kelly’s Last Stand, Kowloon
Unknown Location, Kowloon, Hong Kong
Repulse Bay, Hong Kong
Vysherad, Prague
Sheraton Hotel, Hong Kong
Business Centre, Sheraton Hotel, Hong Kong
Sidliste Barrandov Tramstop, Prague
Repulse Bay, Hong Kong
Sidliste Barrandov Tramstop, Prague
Business Centre, Sheraton Hotel, Hong Kong
Honza Lorenc’s Flat, Zizkov, Prague
Underground carpark, Sheraton Hotel, Hong Kong
Little Cobra, Bar, Smichov, Prague
Repulse Bay, Hong Kong
Vaclav Havel Airport, Prague
Honza Lorenc’s Flat, Zizkov, Prague
FBI HQ, Quantico, Virginia, USA
Sheraton Hotel, Hong Kong
Outside Honza Lorenc’s flat, Zizkov, Prague
Incident Room, Smichov Police Station, Prague
Dave Spink’s Office, Melbourne
Incident Room, Smichov Police Station, Prague
Fawkner Memorial Park, Melbourne
Sheraton Hotel. Hong Kong
Andel Apartments, Smichov, Prague
Outside Honza Lorenc’s flat, Zizkov, Prague
Undisclosed Location, Prague
Bukowski’s Bar, Zizkov, Prague
DNES Newspaper Offices, Smichov, Prague
Incident Room, Smichov Police Station, Prague
Smichov Police Station, Prague
Undisclosed Location, Prague
Petrin Tower, Prague
Millennium Mayfair Hotel, London
Dobra Trafika Mala Strana, Prague
Institute of Directors, London
Nusle Bridge, Prague
Vaclav Havel Airport, Prague
Smichov Police Station, Prague
Police HQ, Melbourne
The George & Dragon Pub, Old Town Square, Prague
Supermax, HM Prison Barwon, Nr Geelong, Victoria
Office Suite, Andel, Smichov, Prague
Police HQ, Melbourne
Office Suite, Andel, Smichov, Prague
Apartment, Barrandov
Tolson’s Tow N’ Scrap, Melbourne
Apartment, Barrandov
Barrandov, Prague
Smichov Police Station, Prague
Office Suite, Andel, Smichov, Prague
Modra Laguna Coffee shop, Barrandov, Prague
Plantagenet’s Clubhouse, Melbourne
Office Suite, Andel, Smichov, Prague
Doccachino Inc, St Kilda, Melbourne
Smichov Police Station, Prague
Andel, Smichov, Prague
Malostranska Metro Station, Prague
Undisclosed Office, Na Prikope, Prague
Malostranska Metro Station, Prague
Andel, Smichov, Prague
Smichov Police Station, Prague
Undisclosed Location, Prague
Divoka Sarka, Prague
Part II
Ruzyne Military Hospital, Prague
State of Victoria Appeal Court, Melbourne
Ruzyne Military Hospital, Prague
Fitzroy, Melbourne, Australia
Ruzyne Military Hospital, Prague
Halfway House, Melbourne.
Mental Health Unit, Ruzyne Military Hospital, Prague
Near Watson’s Truck n’ Tow, Melbourne
Alchemy Investigations Office, Melbourne
Ruzyne Military Hospital, Prague
Katherine, Northern Territory
Fullilove Ranch, Northern Territory
Mental Health Unit, Ruzyne Military Hospital, Prague
Undisclosed House, Melbourne
Watson’s Truck n’ Tow, Melbourne.
Vaclav Havel Airport, Prague.
Fullilove Ranch, Northern Territory
Mental Health Unit, Ruzyne Military Hospital, Prague.
Undisclosed House, Melbourne
Wonky Wombat Bar, Katherine, Northern Territory
Alchemy Investigations Office, Victoria Police HQ, Melbourne
Undisclosed Apartment, Melbourne
Big Joe’s Coffee, Melbourne
Flinders Street Station, Melbourne
Undisclosed House, Melbourne
The Wyandotte Inn, Carlton, Melbourne
Broome, Western Australia
Alchemy Investigations Office, Victoria Police HQ, Melbourne
Undisclosed House, Melbourne
Marsh Ranch, Northern Territory
St Vincent’s Hospital, Melbourne.
Palmerston Hospital, Broome, Western Australia
Maple Cross, Retirement Home. Northern Territory
Big Joe’s Coffee, Melbourne
Undisclosed Location, Northern Territory
Alchemy Investigations Office, Victoria Police HQ, Melbourne
Sisters of Mercy, Retirement Home, Northern Territory
Sisters of Mercy Retirement Home Northern Territory
Undisclosed Location, Northern Territory
Alchemy Investigations Office, Victoria Police HQ, Melbourne.
Undisclosed Location, Northern Territory
Big Joe’s Coffee, Melbourne
Alchemy Investigations Office, Victoria Police HQ, Melbourne
Sisters of Mercy, Retirement Home, Northern Territory
Alchemy Investigations Office, Victoria Police HQ, Melbourne
St Theresa’s Retirement Home, Northern Territory
Sisters of Mercy, Retirement Home, Northern Territory
Sisters of Mercy, Retirement Home, Northern Territory
Near to Undisclosed House, Melbourne
Marsh Ranch, Northern Territory
Havana, Cuba
Carlton, Melbourne, Australia
Also by PJ Nash
Have you Read?
James & Sandersen Files Book 1
The Hunt For The Dingo
Preface
The legend of Divoka Sarka, or Wild Sarka, is shrouded in myth. The story of Sarka and the war between Czech men and women fifteen hundred years ago was first written down in the eleventh century, and historians are divided over whether there is any truth in it. Some say that the story is based on the ancient tales of the Amazonian warriors, while others say that it may have its roots in a pagan matriarchal society that predated the arrival of Christianity in Bohemia by thousands of years. We will probably never know the truth, but in much the same way as the tale of Robin Hood in Britain, Divoka Sarka has become part of Czech culture, and was used during the Czech National Revival to boost the role of Czech folklore in the Czech Lands.
To find the roots of the legend of Divoka Sarka, we need to go back to the sixth century, or perhaps the seventh century; no-one knows for sure. It was a time when Prague didn't even exist. There were several settlements of the Slavic tribe, the Czechs, who had recently settled in the country, in what are now the suburbs of Prague. But the centre of Prague as we know it now was comp
letely unsettled. The main settlement in the area, according to most historians, was in a narrow valley which today bears the name Divoka Sarka, to the west of today's city centre. At this time, or so legend has it, the Czechs were a matriarchal society and were ruled by women for many generations. The last of these matriarchal rulers was Libuse.
According to Vaclac Ledvinka – the director of Prague’s city archives – when Libuse died, the country's men made their own bid for power: ‘When Libuse died, the matriarchal system of power came to an end, and a patriarchal system was introduced, with the arrival of Prince Premysl, the forefather of the Premyslid dynasty, which later ruled the Czech Lands for several hundred years. The women were apparently furious at this change, and this led to a civil war between Czech women and men.’
The war between the men and women was vicious and long. The women were led by a fierce and fabled warrior, Vlasta. But the main role in the legend belongs not to Vlasta, but to Sarka. ‘Libuse's right-hand woman in the war against the men was a young girl named Sarka. She decided that the best way to inflict the greatest loss on their opponents was to entrap their bravest and strongest fighter, a young man named Ctirad, using feminine wiles, and then kill him.’
Sarka and Ctirad arranged a rendezvous in what is now the Divoka Sarka valley. According to the legend, Sarka then applied her feminine charms to Ctirad, with a little bit of help from some alcohol: ‘Sarka proceeded to get Stirad drunk with mead, which was the favourite drink of most Slavs at that time, he fell in love with her, but being drunk, he fell asleep. While he lay sleeping in her arms, Sarka, so the legend says, murdered him.’
The murder of Ctirad was apparently a great blow to the male opponents of Vlasta's warriors, and for a while, the loss of their greatest fighter helped the women to continue their fight, but only for a short while. In the end, the women lost the war, and a patriarchal, feudal system, under the rule of Premysl, and later on the Premyslid dynasty was installed. Rather than surrender to the men, so the legend says, Sarka decided to take her own life and jumped off a cliff in the Divoka Sarka valley. Today, one of the rock formations in the valley is called Divci Skok, or Girl's Jump, as this is, according to some, the site of her suicide. Whether or not Libuse, Vlasta, Sarka or Ctirad were ever real figures in Czech history, will probably never be known,
Prologue
Prague, Czech Republic
Jana Markova was tired from her cleaning job as she entered the metro carriage at Nove Butovice. She had made her way through the windswept canyons of the austere communist era tower blocks to the underground station and entered the carriage without really looking. The carriage doors hissed shut, and the train cannoned back into the subterranean network. She sat down and began searching for her phone which had fallen into the bottom of her capacious handbag. Managing to get hold of the phone, she pulled it out of her bag and turned it over to look at the screen. Suddenly, the train braked sharply. The phone shot from her hands and skittered down the centre aisle of the carriage. She turned to look for it but instead saw him, or it. A scream formed in her throat, but then died. She began to hyperventilate, staggered to the doors and hit the emergency stop button …
Part I
Kowloon, Hong Kong
The Star Ferry buffeted through the choppy waters of the channel which separated Hong Kong Island from Kowloon. Standing upon the upper deck, enjoying the breeze, was Lawrence James. After three days navigating the tight warren of soaring skyscrapers that dominated Victoria Harbour, he was glad to be out in the sort of fresh air. Space was not at a premium in Hong Kong. And the only way to build was up. So, it had come as some surprise to see the expansive acres of the Happy Valley Race Course when they’d attended a race meeting there. The Chinese love of gambling was something that they shared with the former colonial owners of this prime piece of Far East real estate. Newly married to Dr Jessie Sandersen, James was looking good as a husband. He had bulked out after the months of hospital and recuperation having suffered a serious knife wound in the final violent minutes of solving “The Dingo” case. His hair was closely cropped. Sandersen and his receding hairline having persuaded him that the battle for his hair was lost, and a complete strategic withdrawal was better than a gradual, shambolic retreat. They were in the third week of their honeymoon after a quiet ceremony in Melbourne.
For James, he still needed time to mentally and physically recuperate. Even prior to “The Dingo” case, he had been suffering from nightmares and flashbacks after being shot by Melbourne crime kingpin Cyrus Bain. The criminal mastermind had made an audacious escape and remained at large. In the quiet hours of the night, James would log onto the Interpol site and look at the mugshots of his nemesis. Carrying a bounty of one million US dollars and his dubious depiction as a sort of Ned Kelly, the murderous bushranger, Bain was the subject of numerous websites from either bounty hunters who had mocked up Bain as he might look with various hair style changes or having had plastic surgery. Others were just tribute websites to his chockfull CV of crime. During many sleepless nights, as he smoked his pipe on the balcony of their duplex, a habit he’d picked up as a compromise with Sandersen over his previous twenty-to-thirty a day cigarettes habit, James would contemplate the bizarre high esteem in which lots of people would treat low-life criminals such as Chopper Reid in Australia and the Kray twins in the UK.
The ferry hooted as it hove into the port, and the crew threw the docking ropes to the men waiting on the dock. James wasn’t really looking forward to the teeming masses of Nathan Road where Sandersen was taking him to one of the numerous bespoke tailors. Since his run ins with Bain and The Dingo, he had become a minor media celebrity and had received numerous invitations to speak on his experience at FBI Headquarters and the Police Training College in the UK. Less prestigious, but more lucrative, were the hosts of invitations to be an after-dinner speaker. Either way, Sandersen was getting him some suits. Only the promise of a cold one at Ned Kelly’s Last Stand held any real prospect of joy. For that, he would pay the price of a sweaty bloke measuring his inside leg.
Jinonice Metro Station, Prague
The driver had slammed on the brakes on hearing the alarm sound and coasted the Metro train to a stop at Jinonice Station. He had used his radio to tell the control room that he would be halting the train there. A number of curious passengers had gathered at the platform. Fortunately, two Prague city police officers had been alerted via the Metro control room. Guns out, they ran down the platform and got alongside the carriage doors as they hissed open. Jana Markova staggered out and vomited on the platform. Jumping aboard the carriage, the two police officers were confronted by something from a charnel house. What had been a white male hung limply from the overhead hand rail to which he had been handcuffed by one wrist. Naked from the waist up, he looked to be in his twenties; pasty and overweight. His torso bore signs of burn marks. His throat had been cut and a ragged slash was full of congealed blood. His crotch was a bloody mess.
“You get the witness to the surface, I’ll guard the body and call for back up,” said the first officer. His partner nodded his assent and wandered over to comfort Jana and subtly probe her for information.
Captain Jiri Hofschnadir of the Czech Criminal Police was on his way home after picking up his daughter Petra from a violin lesson when his mobile phone rang. Sarka gave him that all-too-familiar luck of contempt. She saw the phone as a wife would look upon a mistress. Something which stole her father away from her. Pulling his Skoda Fabia out of the flow of traffic and dodging across the tram tracks, he pulled over and answered the phone. Three minutes later, he was speeding through the industrial suburb of Smichov, his flashing blue light clamped to the roof of the car. He’d bade Petra a tearful farewell at Andel tram stop after giving her a 500 crown note and his personal mobile phone. Reaching into the glove box, he pulled out a packet of Davidoff cigarettes. In a long-practiced manoeuvre, he pulled one out of the packet with his mouth and lit it. He’d started smoking again three months ago having
re-joined the force after a few years’ hiatus as a lawyer. The work had paid more and given him regular hours with his kids. It also reduced the risk of him taking a bullet. He’d joined the force as a beat cop, gone sideways into the fast reaction firearms team and then made detective. During the long stints on standby duty waiting for hijackers and kidnappers who thankfully never came, he had trained as a lawyer. When his wife Lenka fell pregnant and started getting hyper worried, he quit the force and took a job on Civvy Street. But his weight had ballooned, and his greatest risk at work was having a heart attack. Something had been gnawing at him deep inside. Ironically it was Lenka, his wife, who had told him to go back on the force. She said that now that both of the kids were at school, she’d like to go back to work. So, he traded his briefcase for a Glock and a pair of handcuffs and was back in the game.
