David J. Taylor

“YOUNG JUSTICE”

 I remember the times as a youngster when the energy within me was far greater than what my young body really needed, but accepted it with a joyful glee. The times spent in my country town playing with my best friend, running in the fields, wrestling with so much determination that we were going to be just like our heroes on television. Those frosty mornings when we left our tracks over a carpet of natures finest “white”. The amazement on each other’s faces as we breathed into the chilling cold air to make smoke rings. Oh yes, the laughter and the anticipation of our catch as we trekked the couple of miles to our favourite rabbit trapping spot, these were carefree days. The days of innocence!!! Innocence is something treasured by Mother’s and something which is keenly held for the young. It is something that every Mother wants her young child to keep for as long as possible because it goes hand in hand with the development of the character of a human being. It is an essential ingredient to a productive future where growing up, togetherness with friends, friendly rivalry in sport, enjoying the company of the opposite sex and generally being a part of society moulds the child to be a better well-balanced adult. When you take away a child’s innocence it can endanger a young persons learning processes. It’s a learning process that is replaced by bitterness and a hatred of all things. A cutting down of innocence in these prime years is exactly that; a ‘cutting’ in the maturing process and a stagnation in the development of the intellect. The ruination of a fellow human being and the desecration of the privileges and rights of that human being to be able to develop into the individual; in accordance with God’s Holy Laws. If you have not perhaps guessed what I mean by the loss of innocence, I am speaking of the rape of a child or the molestation of a child by a sexual degenerate, a deviate lurking in society’s sewerage systems, a gutter rat that feeds on defenceless prey. A human being that sometimes goes under the name of Paedophile.

PART I

 

 

CHAPTER ONE
      

The house had been used for the past several years as a meeting place for some very prominent and influential people. The list of impressive people included James Marden, a stockbroker who had business connections overseas as well as throughout Australia. He was a wiry man almost skeletal, with eyes darkened and well set into their sockets. He was a man of ill stature who was always seen in suave attire, wearing suits that were hand-stitched in Italy. Although he was not of Italian descent, his mannerisms gave the impression to others that he was. He successfully depicted the Mediterranean charisma exceptionally well. He was always willing to flaunt himself and his talents of making money, but Marden was always careful to whom he divulged his secrets. They had to be people ‘in the know’ people of power and of connections. He was a wheeler-dealer using other peoples’ money and lived an extravagant and expensive lifestyle. Likened to a good chess player, Marden knew when to sacrifice pawns so he could manipulate his way to the conquest of the opposition’s Queen. Marden was ruthless and often unscrupulous but a handy piece to the jigsaw puzzle, which was slowly beginning to unfold. He was a necessary cog and a vital player in the integration in the overall scheme of things to come. 

Another integral part of this machinery was a Defence Lawyer, Benjamin Strickland a fastidious character that hated anyone calling him Ben or Benny. Stemming from a subconscious recollection of schoolyard childhood taunting. His face would inflame, as the adrenalin pumped furiously throughout his body should anyone accidentally let slip the abbreviation of his christened name. He was a pale skinned man almost anaemic, a product of countless hours that had turned into years whilst studying his profession. Strickland was not known as the outdoor type but he was a ‘Master Craftsman’ in the Courtroom and he knew his trade well. Strickland was well informed on legal loopholes, which could be beneficial to his prospective client. Having a powerful and commanding manner with words in his arsenal, along with his Courtroom theatrics that he thought essential for any good lawyer, made him one of the best in the business. He had all the trappings of a successful ‘mouth piece’.

Strickland owned a private pent-house in the centre of business heart of the city, drove expensive, fast and top of the range sports cars. Always desiring to be seen with the ‘right people’ and living life in the fast lane was definitely his forte. Strickland was also a man without honour; he was shrewd and didn’t care whether his clients were innocent or guilty, just as long as the money was there. He’d sell his soul to the devil, if the price were right.

Inside the mansion on that wonderful autumn day, leaning against the cocktail bar set amongst Judge Borthwick’s antiquated furniture, stood a seductress of a woman who could only be described as ravishing. She was of mixed heritage, half Negress and half French, an exotic and beautiful blend of man eating, soul destroying, and curvaceous flesh. She was known as Lola Duvwar but the people of whom she associated, suspected this to be an alias. She kept her private life before coming to Australia, exactly that, private. Duvwar never spoke of that previous life not even to her closest and most intimate friends. This added to the mystery that was Lola!

She looked a picture standing amongst the trophies of that room that an oil painting would never have captured or given justice. Her red chiffon dress tightly clung to every curve of her well-proportioned body as Lola Duvwar stood almost defiantly sipping her Bourbon on ice.

Surrounding Lola, the walls of the expensive bar area were adorned with the trophies claimed by the Judge on his many expeditions to the African interior and to other game hunting areas. The heads of Lions, Tigers, Leopards, Deer and Bear were some, amongst the many. As Lola Duvwar stood near the bar surrounded by trophied heads of the animals she appeared as the ‘Beast Master’ and these were her slaves, ready to command into life and action in total obedience to their Master.

Lola would have many a man as a slave to add to her collection but there was a small chink in her armour that was unknown to those outside of this intimate circle of friends. It was not that she didn’t like men, on the contrary she loved them but she loved them young, very young. Boy slaves were more her fetish! Lola’s passion of young men was only equalled by her passion of money and her habitual love of Cocaine. An addiction of all three was a sure-fire recipe that enticed her to her profession.

Lola was the ‘Madam’ to several well-known brothels around the city of Adelaide. She had connections with all types of undesirables as well as connections with prominent personnel in all exclusive venues. Lola knew exactly how far she could push and prod people without causing any frenzied payback action. The truth was, she had most people wrapped securely around her little finger and she knew it. 

Judge Borthwick knew of Lola’s unscrupulous disposition but he also knew of her value as a member of their common ‘Cause’. The Judge now in his mid fifties was an arrogant, assertive and aristocratic type. His stout rotund physique was a little daunting, and a straight and sombre face with a square jaw line that was etched now with a fine greying moustache. His steely grey eyes firmly fixed upon the person with whom he was conversing, was enough to know that they were being scrutinized, whether you had anything to hide or not! Nearing two decades on the bench had given him an authoritative air that demanded respect; even from the most senior of socialites, his stature and mental prowess commanded it. Borthwick was regarded with high esteem amidst his fellow colleagues including barristers and solicitors alike. There was an aspect to him that allowed judicial fairness with compassion, when cases were brought before him and his bench.

One such case was a certain ‘Elenore Parker’ who had murdered her husband. It was proven conclusively that her husband had beaten and raped the said defendant repeatedly over a period of some seven years; Judge Borthwick ruled in her favour in an act of compassion. He ruled that the defendant should serve a minimal imprisonment as well as being eligible for early parole.

Yet, it was not so for the notorious serial axe murderer who had left his victims lying in a pool of blood with a tomahawk wedged firmly between their eyes. He then proceeded to perform the grizzly act of disembowelling his victim to display their gizzards in front of the local butcher shop just on a whim so the locals could get some cheap meat. The man was a former slaughterman at a local abattoir.

In his summary the Judge said to the defendant, “This crime could only, or should only be, punishable by death.” Regrettably to the Judge as the death penalty had been abolished many years previous, the only avenue open was to impose a term of three natural life sentences and to be imprisoned at the discretion of the ‘Governor’s Pleasure’ with any future parole, denied. Addressing the Lawyer for the Defence the Judge said, “It was inappropriate and a gross wastage of tax payers money to defend the likes of this man.” In this, he seemed a fair and just man earning the respect from his peers.

The Judge was dressed in his usual grey three piece suit with his sterling silver fob watch hung strategically from his waistcoat button into it’s pocket, as he sat in his studded upholstered leather arm chair smoking a Corona cigar, exhaling large smoke rings into air of the already smoke-filled mansions’ private smoker’s room. Borthwick was chatting nonchalantly to his old time friend and co-organiser of their ever-increasing ‘circle of conspirators’ a Doctor Richard Edward Wilkins.

Wilkins was a man of slim build, five feet eleven inches tall and whose frame was beginning to stoop slightly as he approached his forty ninth year. He had started as a ‘wet behind the ears’ intern ever keen to try and change the shape of the world by perhaps discovering a wonder drug for the cure of cancer or branching out into new fields of medicine. Thus single handily becoming another Louis Pasteur or as renown as Madam Curie. Sadly though the earlier dreams of Wilkins had all but been forgotten.

The power of money and Wilkins comfortable practice in North Adelaide, an elite inner city suburb, was thriving and had most of the prosperous Adelaide socialites as his clientele. He was as clinical in screening his patients, as he was when he performed surgery with his razor sharp instruments of precision. Wilkins had his steady flow of hypochondriacs and the rich socialite’s children with the measles, influenza and such like. Most of his patients knew one another and more often they had only come to gossip with him, not that Wilkins ever divulged any clients information but he was more of an expensive lending ear. The Doc was an amicable sort of character and no one seemed to care, his clientele had money to burn.

The Doc enjoyed all that went with his position amongst the elite, living in an enormous classical ‘homestead’ mansion that was built around the early part of the twentieth century. The house was complete with very large and spacious rooms, a huge cellar where the Doc kept a wide selection of table wines. The stock of which were the product of his own vineyards that surrounded his home and the vines appeared as an ocean of green during the growing season. The home was strengthened by sturdy verandah’s that also added shade during the scorching summer months. Many a summer evening he spent relaxing in his favourite rocking chair, sipping a light white, meditating over his expansive property. The homestead was capped with careful architecture and landscaped gardens, pool and tennis courts. Doc Wilkins’ home was situated in the picturesque Barossa Valley and was some seventy miles from his practice in Adelaide and he commuted happily to work every day. To some of his clientele it seemed a long way but when you have a thriving business and the added serenity of country living, it was a small price to pay.

His trip was made expedient by the use of his silver-grey Mercedes and was able to use it to its full capacity if needed on the excellent well-designed roads. The roads did have speed limitations but there wasn’t much chance of him being booked as he was treating the Commissioner of Police for a minor heart condition. Besides, if some wet-nosed copper pulled him over, he would just explain that he had been called in for an emergency and could they please contact their superiors by radio. More often than not, he would be released to carry on with that emergency with apologies being conveyed by the Commissioner via the reprimanded Highway Patrol Officer.

On one of these commuting trips into the city now some five years ago, there was a chance meeting. On the side of the road and obviously in trouble was a virtual ‘damsel in distress’ with a flat tyre and as he was soon to discover, a flat spare. Her red Porsche was delicately poised, looking as though a precision stunt driver had expertly driven into that position as it came to rest after a blowout, flawlessly parked between a huge gum tree and the entrance to a pedestrian bridge over a river. Wilkins, with his dry sense of wit felt compelled to say, “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” It was obvious that she didn’t see Wilkins attempt at humour but did accept his gracious hospitality of a lift to arrange for a tow truck.

Through the course of the conversation as they travelled the Highway they uncovered more about each other, she soon learned Wilkins was a Doctor. Wilkins seemed to be someone she could trust so she relaxed in his presence and began to openly confide in him. Helena Jorgensen bubbled with vitality as she spoke to Wilkins, although he had to strain his ears to hear her words as Helena spoke with a heavy Swiss accent but even so her voice and her mannerisms were magnetic. This was their first encounter yet they spoke as old friends. It was an enchanting meeting that seemed more than just coincidental, almost seemingly prearranged. Maybe destiny perhaps had crossed their paths.

Helena was typically Swiss with her Blonde hair and blue eyes, her features were not extremely attractive but pretty nonetheless and restfully pleasant to look upon. Her physique was petite and well rounded in all the right areas. She had come from a wealthy banking family and was ‘travelling around’ as she had put it in an attempt to “find herself” and while exploring as it were, Helena was trying to find trying to find her niche in life. As they drove, she poured out her soul to Wilkins as strangers sometimes do. They both thought they probably wouldn’t see each other again and had likened themselves to two ships passing amidst a sea of darkness, seeing each other only for that short, but brief moment in time. It was only later that this was not to be.

Helena had a ‘special problem’ and the Doctor referred her to a ‘special group’ of which he was a co-organiser and it was to this group that Helena would eventually swear a lifetime of allegiance.

The doorbell rang signalling Helena’s arrival to the mansion. She was now five years older and at thirty-nine was still pretty and petite, her heavy Swiss accent continued to be prominent and her red Porsche remained her prized possession. She was very much another important part of this group with her Swiss Bank connections and easy access to Visas and Passports. Helena’s jet setting life was easily camouflaged as a “poor little rich girl” who had nothing else better to do. Only one person was absent from their fortnightly meeting but he would be late! He always was!

Herman Von-Mueller was of German origin and was an arrogant, boisterous man who always left any commitment to the last moment. Von-Mueller liked to make a grand entrance wherever he was able to orchestrate his presence. A rather garish dresser, he loved the attention that his arrival attracted and he loved the high profile of the position he had attained in life. Herman Von-Mueller was a high roller, a compulsive gambler, and an egocentric man with a large stature, short brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The others in this group were unconcerned with his flamboyant style and they agreed that he was over bearing but it remained that he was a much needed player to their ‘Cause’.

They were all relaxing in Judge Borthwick’s home, being soothed by classical music which was ever present in the Judge’s Chambers or at home. There was only one place Borthwick could never listen to his beloved music and that was in his Courtroom. No doubt it was under protest that it was not permitted there.

Outside dusk was becoming ever more prominent as the going down of the sun flickered its delightful rays through the majestic forested land. The autumn view was breathtaking, a myriad of colours bombarded the countryside; in shades of reds, oranges, various browns and the yellow leaves that awaited their time to fall from the tree. Then by some invisible signal they would be sent spiralling towards the ground to be used as nature’s fertilizer for that and the next generation of trees and shrubbery. God excelled Himself when he created such beauty with the babbling brooks trickling their natural path through the mountainside. Catching their breath only for a while in small catchment areas that teemed with all varieties of flora and fauna. Only then to move on, trickling over small waterfalls and through the crevices in the rocks.

From this same vantage point north of Adelaide and turning towards a southerly direction you could view the panoramic vista of Adelaide being ‘switched on’ for the night, a truly magnificent sight with thousands upon thousands of yellow, orange and white lights being instantaneously lit together. This in itself one would think would be wondrous enough but as to the town planning; a certain Colonel William Light to his credit, must have had wonderful foresight. He mapped and built the city in a large square by having each main terrace of the central square aptly named North, South, East and West. Even the most ignorant of visitors could easily find his or her way around the city, by remaining on the major roads within the city, they connected the visitor to the major Highways that lead itself out of the city of Adelaide.

Von-Mueller had finally arrived in his usual impressive fashion, fishtailing his black Corvette up the white quartz pebbled driveway leading to Borthwick’s mansion and coming to a halt in a cloud of dust with white flying pebbles liberally scattering the Judge’s courtyard. This displeased the Judge’s groundsman, as he had the responsibility of raking over these grooves that Von-Mueller had made in the pebbles the following morning, after everyone had left and Von-Mueller would always exit in the same manner as he had arrived.

The muscle bound German who was now nearing forty and had earned his fame and fortune as a Weight Lifter in the nineteen eighty Olympics. Through advertising endorsements and careful investments of his money that his Uncle Otto originally managed, had now turned into quite a sum. After the death of Uncle Otto some three years ago, James Marden was now managing his portfolio. Von-Mueller and Marden never trusted each other but there was mutual respect of each other and of their professions. Marden respected Von-Mueller’s money and the percentage he received from any profitable business transactions and Von-Mueller respected Marden to the point that he made him even more money. Therefore they had a working relationship and a common bond, worshipping riches.

All members were now present at the mansion and the meeting would soon be under way. James Marden, Herman Von-Mueller and Benjamin Strickland were at the cocktail bar pouring themselves a drink and discussing routine paperwork relating to legal documents that Strickland was to draw up in the next few days. The proposal was a corporate bid to take over a small and struggling Company whose only options were to disperse and cease operations, or to invite shareholders to keep it afloat. Von-Mueller intended to be a major stockholder as Marden had advised Von-Mueller of its profitability under good management, which was the Company’s initial downfall. The Meat Processing Company needed cold, hard cash flow to execute much-needed repairs and required a major structural refurbishing, but the Company did have existing overseas contacts although they were not used to their full potential and with Marden and Von-Mueller in control they would correct that oversight.

It was a simple case of supply and demand, the demand was there but the supply was being strangled, as workers would invariably strike on irrelevant trivial matters or on time wasting non-safety issues. The constant disruptions to production through strikes or frequent refrigeration breakdowns had caused delays in completing the exports. This is where Von-Mueller would step in with his ever ready, willing and able finances. Pump in a few dollars and secure a large portion of the pie. He already had his fingers in several other ventures but this time others had already completed all the groundwork of establishing a market, but it was going to taste as sweet. Of course the problem of management and the re-shuffling of staff would have to be addressed, as well as the eradication of any known trouble-makers would have to be enforced but all in all, this would be another money making proposition.

The Judge and Doc Wilkins were sitting on the lounge conversing about the course of events of that day. The Judge was sipping on a Napoleon Brandy in between puffs of his Corona cigar while the Doc swilled some enjoyable light white wine. The wine had come from his private stock that had been distilled from his own vineyard.

Lola and Helena had previously been excused to use the upstairs bathroom to freshen themselves. The bathroom was elegant in decor with its marbled tiles and gold faucets. The early Grecian wallpapering and the evergreen potted plants scattered purposely throughout, made the room feel and look cool and attractive.

The ladies were sitting facing their reflections in the mirror and idly gossiping. Helena was retouching her makeup and making last minute adjustments to her apparel. Lola was carefully laying out two lines of top quality Cocaine that she gleefully snorted, one up each nostril through the use of a finely rolled ten-dollar bill to make the tube. The stone was almost instantaneous as she continued to sniff to clear her senses and the familiar feeling of confidence overtook her, now she was able to conquer all. She revelled in the energy and sheer exuberance that the Cocaine gave her. Lola was now ready for all challenges that may be issued; knowing deep down she was the drug’s slave but played the game nonetheless. Tonight wasn’t the night for feelings neither of guilt nor of ones of remorse. Tonight she was going to be on top.

The ladies having finished upstairs gracefully made their way to where the men had begun to gather around the Judges’ regal oak table situated in the Dining room.

The Dining room was adorned with finery from floor to ceiling, Persian rugs lay strategically across the floor and crystal chandeliers graced the ceilings that were lit to their full capacity, showing their majestic dominance over the Dining area. The women were escorted to their seats and the men took their prospective seats as the Judge headed the large oak table ready to chair the meeting.

To the Judge’s immediate right was the Doc’s private secretary, a meagre looking woman set with pen in hand and with her bifocals perched on her narrow bridged nose. She had been with the Doc quite a number of years, an elderly spinster by choice who was loyal to the Doc as well as being sympathetic to the ‘Cause’. “Miss Ludlam” as she preferred to be addressed, scribbled a few notes in the Minutes Book along with the date, the First of March 1999.

Judge Walter Thomas Borthwick with his customary air of authority called the meeting to order. The fortnightly meeting of the secretive but yet powerful ‘Paedophile Club’ was now brought to order.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

Both girls were an attractive blend of young womanhood who were already life hardened and had long ago lost their sense of innocence. Both Mona and Michelle being the eldest of the five girls who were gathered within the room, with Mona who was barely sixteen, beautiful and shapely with long jet black hair and dark eyes and of Polynesian descent and Michelle who at fifteen and in sharp contrast to Mona, had with her English heritage a pale skin, short blonde hair and hazel eyes. These two very streetwise young ladies were the personal playthings of the Judge and the Doc. Mona and Michelle were paid very well for their services as were the others but their age was about to make them redundant. They were to soon outlive their usefulness because they were no longer children and this was a totally unacceptable situation to the adults. Both Mona and Michelle would be cut off in their prime having been stripped of all moral values; their used carcases would then be thrown out into the world. They were wise enough to be aware of this impending action, as they had been in the Judge and Doc’s employ for almost four years. They knew the routine because they like others had once been chosen as replacements. A time vividly etched into the young minds of Mona and Michelle and indelibly stamped for future reference; their own inescapable future reference. Their predecessors were naive and believed that this ‘high life’ was to be an on going affair with these upper-crusted socialites who really did care for them. Their thoughts of “Sugar Daddies” would be for life but their bubbles soon burst as their two ‘saviours in sin’ blatantly and unremorsefully ousted them from their warm and secure nest. Like young birds not yet able to fly they were tossed mercilessly into the jungle of the streets, which was to be their new home. Presumably, to be swallowed by the street hawks who in turn would get a few more years of prostitution out of them before they were made redundant and thrown onto the scrap-heap.

Before Mona and Michelle, there had been pandemonium with the remaining girls who had resented the two older ones being thrown out only to be replaced by two younger ones and had threatened various vengeful acts. “Legal action” they had said. “Bad publicity in the newspapers” even as a last resort they had threatened physical violence and property damage, but all to no avail. Lola Duvwar sternly indicated it in her usual assertive manner that their actions would be fruitless and totally engulfed with danger. Lola delivered the facts to them in simple and plain terms on the futility of any revengeful action. It didn’t take but a moment for them to realise even as naive as they were, they were fighting a losing battle. The remaining three youngest girls were paid a little something extra to mollify the situation and sent on their innocuous way.

It was within a short time that the two younger replacements arrived, Mona and Michelle. Mona and Michelle had been forewarned of the end result so they were prepared for their inevitable outcome. For some time they had been depositing money in various areas, so they would be financially independent when their day came to be cast out into the streets. They were not going to be the bait of the street hawks nor were they going to be aimless vagrants lost within the arteries of the city. Despite their young age they had gained a credible amount of intelligence, even though they had been thrown into the realities of life so soon in their young life. It was either sink or swim out there and both Mona and Michelle knew that the children both past and present had lost their childhood innocence early. All the children selected by the adults had been toughened by more than a fair share of life’s cruelties and hardships. They had all started their childhood behind the eight ball and even now they were being fouled at every shot.

The three remaining girls within the Rumpus room were considerably more naive than Mona and Michelle but life had dealt with them just as cruelly. In fact, all the children had similar backgrounds, of either being sexually or physically abused or simply unloved. More frequently it was a combination of all three. One of the girls named Natalie was a fiery curly-topped redhead who was rather pretty with her pale skin and blue eyes. She had all the physical attributes of becoming a fine looking woman although not yet twelve; made her the youngest within the group. Angelica was thirteen and well built for a child of her years and was of Italian and Australian heritage. Her parents had constantly bickered as to which lifestyle Angelica would be nurtured, the ‘Traditional Italian’ way or the ‘New Australian’ concepts. The persistent disputing between her parents had become intolerable for Angelica that she ran away from home believing if she were not there, it would solve the problem.                                                                                                

Lastly there was Sarah, a spritely fourteen year old who had celebrated her birthday in this very room only two weeks previous. Sarah was orphaned as soon as she was born as her mother did not want the newborn child and had delivered her into the hands of the Child Welfare as soon as she left the hospital. The Welfare and Social workers were shocked by the mother’s actions and tried to convince her to take responsibility for her child. The Welfare offered her financial support or any other assistance that she felt she might require but it was fruitless. She did not want this child at all, now or ever. It was then that the Welfare made Sarah available for fostering as her mother had refused to sign her over for adoption. As Sarah grew she became more stubborn and hotheaded which soon quelled any chance of her having any semblance of a normal family life. She was frequently moved from one foster home to another until she finally had had enough and Sarah ran away to seek the love she desperately desired, on the streets. Sarah, Angelica and Natalie were indulging themselves in smoking marijuana through a ‘bong’, which had been bought at a local flea market. ‘Bongs’ or ‘Water pipes’ could be procured almost anywhere as well as other paraphernalia pertaining to the smoking of marijuana. The growing conditions that were required, the type and how to use fertilizers that would give the maximum crop yields, information on how to separate male and female head plants. Everything a budding young Horticulturist needed to know about growing marijuana was freely available. This trio of misspent youth were lazing on the velvet covered lounge suite like adolescent couch potatoes, deeply drawing on some imported “African Heads” which were aptly named “Durban Poison”. When the sliding of the Rumpus Room doors momentarily distracted them.

The ‘Club’ members had decided to break for refreshments and Lola decided she would seek out David. Standing in the open doorway was Lola Duvwar still clasping the gold plated door handles with her long slender fingers. Her familiar gaze eagerly searched the room for her prey and once found her eyes locked onto David’s penetrating hazel eyes. Slowly she released her right hand from the door handle and held it outwards toward him, beckoning with her hand for him to come to her. David then knew he had to succumb to this ‘vixen from hell’ and his eyes dropped in submission. To many a man this temptress would be the ultimate in sexual pleasure and fantasy but to a fourteen and a half year old boy who had been this forty year olds ‘toy boy’ for some three years was noticeably fearful. Yet, he was mesmerised by her magnetic powers to totally control his life and his mind. He was trapped and did not know of any way out and his only friends were those within the Rumpus Room but they were just as trapped and he. David’s parents did not know where he was and more than likely they did not care as they were both drinkers, a hotel bar was their idol and had become their home. David knew he was totally alone. Lola in a “motherly” gesture placed one of her slinky olive skinned arms around David’s young and broad shoulders as she closed the doors behind them with the other. As soon as the doors were closed she moved her arm from about his shoulders and ran her long talon like nails down his spine towards his buttocks. There she gently squeezed before they proceeded upstairs. The Cocaine she had snorted earlier in the bathroom had induced Lola’s appetite and she was now to have it satisfied. Tonight, the member’s meeting would last a very long time as many important decisions had to be made. These decisions could wait no longer and neither would she, she needed to take her fill.     

Those remaining in the Rumpus Room continued as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened which was true, as this was the norm for these strangely related group of people. Other than the fact that those in the Rumpus Room had noted that Lola must have been extremely sexually active to desire for David’s attention so early in the evening. Accepting the unusual event nonchalantly, they all returned to their own private amusements. All of the children had certain callousness’s in their characters that stemmed from a street toughened loss of innocence, being united with an anger and hatred for their fellow human beings. Together with their lack of love and the fear of being hurt anymore they had built a wall around themselves, daily-strengthened brick by brick, higher and higher. Soon nobody would be able to enter their private domain and nobody would ever be able to touch them again. Their eternal spirits were being severely bound and chained by these lovers of iniquity and their souls were in the place of the damned.     

While David entertained Lola Duvwar, Mona took over David’s position at the Billiard table while Michelle remained with the other three girls to get high on some potent purple weed. They soon began to ‘veg out’ while watching Sky T.V. on a big screen that was set in the opposite corner to the Juke Box. They certainly had all the comforts of home at their fingertips without costing them a red cent, other than keeping the middle aged “Sugar Daddies” satisfied.

While waiting for Brett to play a few easy shots, Mona gazed into oblivion and contemplated her life thus far. Her thoughts drifted to the past and her first ten years of happy childhood, one that was not dissimilar to those of normal children, playing games, running carefree with nature and generally in love with life itself. Life on the Polynesian Islands was one of simplicity and relaxation as they hunted for food and collected water at the babbling brooks. Friends and family would arrive to join them for a meal and later while leaving the adults to talk; the children would go off and play. Mona was only ten years old when trouble found its way into her life and the lives of her parents and friends.

It happened on a typical sun drenched day on the Island of paradise. On that fateful morning, Mona and a few of her childhood friends ventured towards the centre of the Island where they were going to explore. They were full of vitality with a decisive spring to their step as they bounded over small trickling creeks, climbed rocks and trees alike. They swung on vines that were strategically draped to drop right into their favourite swimming hole; life was so good. They were unaware of the impending danger that would soon be upon them and the others on that Island. Mona’s parents and the parents of the other children that were with Mona were frantically searching for them as a hurricane was poised to unleash its merciless power upon the Island. All the years of living in this idyll paradise and reading all the natural weather signs had not prepared them for what was about to be unleashed when this natural phenomenon imposed itself on this little Island community.

The Islanders moved towards the centre of the Island onto higher ground amongst the caves and crevices where they could survive the lashing of the wild sea and the gale force winds. The hurricane hit the small Island with a vengeance and like some devouring hungry giant it swallowed all the Islands low lying areas. Palm trees bent under the weight of the storm as if trying in their small way to halt the onslaught. Palms that had succumbed to a force mightier than they had found their roots had been released from the earth’s grip and were now being tossed into the savage sea where they were at its mercy and the mercy of the unrelenting wind. Other debris had come to a halt where it met resistance against the rocks or other denser vegetation. Thunder rumbled and lightening cracked in the electric atmosphere only adding to the Islanders’ torment and terror. Islander canoes that once sailed the high seas were being crushed against the rocks as if made of paper. The lightening bolts from the electrical storm hit the Island at random sending forth its natural velocity and explosive power as if to show its destructiveness and its mighty strength. It was one of these lightening bolts that hit the base of an aging palm tree and sent it crashing through the jungle’s canopy, forever downward and into the path of Mona’s parents. Their existence had within a moment of time had tragically come to an end.

The storm finally subsided and revealed a trail of debris that scattered from the once glistening white beaches to further inland. Where the homes of the people once stood was now covered with indistinguishable flotsam. As the people began returning from the stronger protection of the centre of the Island, they had hoped to find something of their own that had remained intact. The storm had laughingly mocked their way of life and a single glance at the devastation told them that there was nothing that could be saved. The ever smiling and happy faces of the Islanders were now showing faces of despair, weighed down with shock and disbelief. A natural calamity changed what had seemed an untouchable Island paradise into a place of mourning. The storm had only lasted a short few hours but its effect was to last with some for a lifetime, Mona was to be one of these. It was going to take some time before the Island could return to a semblance of normality. The restocking of their goat and pig herds; the rebuilding of huts for shelter and canoes for catching fish, but this was not to be for Mona.

Mona was an only child and still very young and as she was unable to care for herself she was sent to her Uncle and Auntie on another Island, fifty miles from the Island home that she had come to know and love. Unlike her parents, Mona’s new guardians were westernised and worshipped the ever-popular god of mammon. They had learned the basic ‘need and greed’ rules that only money could buy. The Aunt and Uncle lived prosperously in the export business of the Islands natural wealth of copra and latex.

Prior to Mona’s unexpected appearance and an unwanted addition in their lives, they considered a move to Australia for the purpose of expanding their business connections. This planned move was to be put into action immediately irrespective of Mona’s arrival. Mona was too young so she was not consulted; besides they had no intention of asking her what she had thought on the matter, she was considered a liability.     

Arriving in Australia they were all given residency status. In a few short months the newly formed family worked, lived and functioned as an integral part of Australian society. They had purchased a spacious home in Sydney that boasted a swimming pool, well kept gardens and a large outdoor entertainment area, a far cry from Mona’s simple Islander heritage. Mona’s heart was heavy and it cried for the Island that she had once called her home. Mona had been in Sydney a little over a year when her newly acquired family had begun to deteriorate. Mona’s Uncle and Aunty were seldom home as there was a thriving business to manage and a merry-go-round of private functions to attend, all of which Mona was to play no part. They were not interested in her petty schoolgirl problems nor did they care. Mona began to spend more and more time at home alone, feeling isolated and suffocated from the lack of attention. That is, until one day a girl named Michelle befriended Mona.

Michelle had been Mona’s saviour and a shoulder to cry upon and had found solace in each other through their similar backgrounds. Michelle and Mona became close friends over the days and weeks together and decided they would both flee their homes and begin a new life together in a new city. They chose the ‘City of Churches’, Adelaide. They had heard Adelaide was the ‘Festival City’ and the ‘City of Lights’; it was as good a place as any to start anew. With their heads giddy with excitement they bubbled with enthusiasm and anticipation for the new adventure that awaited them. A wry smile came across Mona’s face as Brett indicated that he had finished his shot at the Billiard table.      

Michelle had just finished her third large cone of wicked purple weed and the rush from this quality weed was enough to send all her senses into over-drive. Her minds’ eye exploded into a myriad of thoughts and colour, everything around her seemed to take on an almost animated appearance. The pot plants that overhung their baskets seemed as though they were too large to be contained were now reaching out to touch her. The small figurine of Venus de Milo began to grow her missing arms and was coming to life. The characters upon the Sky T.V. screen were now within the Rumpus room, as they loomed larger than life to Michelle. The large T.V. screen had become a fixation as she watched enraptured. She was drawn mentally into and was a part of the action within the big screen as the powerful ‘tripping grass’ took its desired effect. Reality was being   replaced by fantasy, over-ruling the harshness and bringing relief from a cold, cruel world.      

Michelle, Natalie, Angelica and Sarah watched the screen entranced as Brett and Mona continued with their game at the Billiard table, when they were interrupted again by the sliding of the doors, it was David and he was alone. He caught their brief but short attention span before returning to their own private worlds. David sheepishly closed the door behind him and strolled towards the lounge where the girls were sitting. Choosing another chair and moving it closer to the small glass-topped coffee table he proceeded to help himself to the bowl of mull. Loading a party sized cone first before he indulged in three normal sized cones. David was desperate to obliterate the evening’s events with Lola and to escape those haunting memories of that night and all those that had preceded it but without success, they were firmly etched forever in his memory. As David laid back into the chair, the drug induced state he now entered brought back a flood of memories and unanswered questions. What was life all about? Was this to be his bit in life being the ‘toy boy’ to a brothel madam? Was this the best that he could have? Why indeed was he on this cruel and heartless planet? He felt caught within a revolving door and desperately looked for an exit. He wanted love and respect yet the world like that revolving door would just keep going round and round. Many questions came to him that night yet not one could be or would be, answered.

 

 

 CHAPTER THREE

 Lola joined the others who were sipping their drinks and discussing the ‘pros’ and ‘cons’ of the “Bill” which was to be the main item on the agenda for tonight, the “Bill” being the legislation of ‘Paedophiles’ within the Australian society. After refilling their glasses the ‘Club’ members made their way from the bar towards the large Dining table and chairs for the continuation of the meeting. Miss Ludlam was already seated at the Dining table with her customary dry sherry having served herself using the Judge’s finest crystal. Her glass was strategically placed slightly to the left of centre so she could sip her sherry using her left hand while continuing to take notes on the meetings events with her right. She sat in readiness as the ever-faithful model of practicality. 

The members were now seated at the Judge’s large antiquated oval table; which was one of his objects of pride. The meeting was to recommence and with the preliminaries having been completed earlier, the remaining discussion was to centre on the structure of their proposed “Bill” to parliament and when to formally lodge the ‘Bill?’ They had the backing of a number of lobbyists and other selected support groups but the ‘Cause’ needed more parliamentary members that were in the public profile to rally and promote their love child.

Lola Duvwar interrupted in the proceedings saying she had acquired some information on a number of prominent politicians as well as a few backbenchers. Granted the acquisition of her information was illegitimately gained through her playful pillow talk, but also through her business luncheons and sordid business connections. Lola had the dirt on quite a few ‘porno’ Politicians. Lola was more than hinting as she bludgeoned her ideas forth that blackmail was always a good leverage. Along with her ‘mafia’ connections of which she went on to explain, for a price could persuade anybody to the views of the ‘Club’. Lola added as she drove her attention directly towards the Judge; that certain favours would be required of him as a partial payment for these special services.       The Judge shifted nervously in his seat as this predatory vixen glared penetratingly into his very soul. So much so that he had begun to feel uncomfortable with Lola’s ideas of blackmail and the use of her mafia connections. Doc Wilkins sensed his friends’ discomfiture and overrode Lola, coming to the rescue of the whole group who were beginning to feel intimidated by Lola’s irresponsible and vindictive attitude. The Doc with his usual geniality used his persuasive measures to skilfully thank Lola for her contributions and input. With the same skill he dodged her eyes that seemed like murderous daggers being thrown in his direction. Lola was visibly irritated that her dominance of the situation had been snubbed.

Doc Wilkins proceeded to list the names of a number of his clientele he thought worthy of consideration. Through his charming bedside manner in conjunction with his medical prowess, he managed to convince many of his numerous patients that the ‘Cause’ was credible. Not only credible but that this was the normal sexual behaviour for a considerable proportion of the people in society. Most of his clientele were like putty in his surgical hands when the Doc assured them that ‘paedophile behaviour’ was normal, so why shouldn’t they support its development! The Doc’s list of prominent financial supporters as well as known paedophile ‘offenders’ at his fingertips, he could offer quite a list of agitators for the ‘Cause’. The Judge now supported a smile and nodded his approval to his long time friend and associate. Not only for his contribution to the meeting but gratuitously for restoring sanity to the ‘Cause’ after Lola’s outburst. Judge Borthwick felt relieved to have been effectively delivered from Duvwar’s indecent and improper proposals.

As the meeting progressed each member in turn supplied information that they thought could contribute to the success of the ‘Cause’. James Marden was good at his chosen profession as a stockbroker and as a shrewd businessman but he was also an excellent negotiator. Marden’s inside information was flawless, he knew what shares to sell before the market dropped and he also knew when to procure more when the market was at low ebb. By this he effectively achieved greater profits for his investors and for himself. James Marden worked on the simple philosophy of knowing man’s basic weaknesses and the two were inseparable, Money and Greed. Marden was very capable when he played one against the other in the private world of entrepreneurs. His business acumen assured him the aims of the ‘Club’ would be successful. The members were suspicious of Marden’s continual victories in the stock market but as he was working behind the scenes very effectively for the ‘Cause’ no one ever doubted his allegiance to the ‘Club’!            

One man that stood to gain immensely from this ‘Cause’ being birthed into society was the legal representative for the ‘Club’, Benjamin Strickland. He anxiously looked forward to his day in Court where he could revel in his role as the ‘White Knight’, ‘Defender of the Downtrodden’ and to appear as the ‘Underdogs Champion’. His Courtroom theatrics were well documented, as was his flare for showmanship. His precise knowledge of the law made him a worthy opponent for any Prosecuting Attorney and respect was bestowed upon him from his colleagues and Judges alike. The forthcoming case in the defence of the ‘Cause’ would certainly bring in the accolades from his peers but would also enable him to name his own price in respect of defending future clientele. Yes, this was to be his shining glory! Strickland had a duel motive for succeeding in this litigation, one being for personal gain the other professional. Firstly, his personal preference with young girls in his own life would then be legitimised which in turn would rule out any chance of him being disbarred. Secondly and most importantly, his professional standing as the lawyer for the defence in the forthcoming case would be enhanced, as he would be noted as the lawyer who changed the course of history. His ego was exploding in anticipation of his day in Court but before this could be heard there had to be a case to put forward to the judicial system.

This ‘Case’ was to be based around Helena Jorgensen and her sacrificial lamb, Brett. The members were going to present paedophilia as their love child and place it on the altar of Justice. Naked and brazen, they and their ‘newborn’ would walk down the hallways of man’s legal system. They were to directly challenge the right to be recognised as a legitimate couple. They wanted the right and to be able if their hearts desired, to marry or at least be recognised as a relationship by law. ‘Freedom of sexuality’ was to be their catch cry, freedom of sexuality between consenting adults and consenting children. It was an issue not to be shelved or hidden away in closets any longer. These ‘normal’ people had ‘normal’ desires of the heart and of the flesh. Their freedom of sexuality cried out to be regarded with equal standing in society along side the ‘Gay Rights’ and heterosexuals alike. This is where the ‘Club’ members wanted rightfully to be, they had rights too as free people who lived in a free democratic society and this was where the scales of Justice would balance in their favour.      

Judge Borthwick’s position was clear! He was to appear wholly unbiased to either the Prosecutor or the Defence Lawyer. The Judge with all his experience and wisdom and his detailed planning had narrowed the possibilities of who would in fact preside over the debut of such a case. There were only two other Judges who were equal to his experience within Adelaide and that had the prerequisites to officiate in this delicate matter. The Judge knew that his chances to be selected for this case were good but shuddered at the thought of having to rely on Lola’s thugs to make it a certainty. He pondered on this line of thought for a moment as Herman Von-Mueller began to offer his contribution.

Von-Mueller with his usual arrogant and boisterous manner began his submission by stating that although his resources were limited; if they were used wisely they could be very beneficial to assist in the passing of the ‘Bill’. Von-Mueller had friends in the sporting arena who were acknowledged as paedophiles, both men and women and he believed if they were managed correctly, these sporting legends could be convinced to announce their sexual preferences to the public. They were predominant figures and were well respected by the community and idolised by the general public. In a nation where various sports are placed upon a pedestal the players were loved and watched by many. Television coverage of these sporting identities could be used after the Court Case had been won thereby adding support to the ‘Cause’ before the ‘Bill’ was placed in Parliament. It would strengthen their newborn child of love. Timing of course was of the essence as the success or failure of the ‘Cause’ lay in its well-timed perfection. Their resultant success would be in the ‘Bills’ implementation. Its failure was not an option to the Club nor was it to be considered, nothing and nobody would stand in the way of the birthing of this love child of the nineties that would enter into a society that was ripe and ready for its impregnation.      

While Von-Mueller was speaking, Helena was lost in her own thoughts. She reflected to a time on a lonely stretch of road when she had first met Doc Wilkins. It was only a year or so after she had acquired her Australian citizenship when she had the fortunate meeting with the Doc on the road. As if by fate her red Porsche found itself in a predicament on the roadside and now her whole life seemed to have meaning and purpose. Helena was now amongst friends, the very people she could honestly call family and those who were of her own kind. For the first time in her life she felt that she had finally found her niche and was ready to do her utmost for the ‘Cause’. If need be, she would willingly die for it!

After Von-Mueller had stepped down the Judge brought his attention to Helena as she was brought back to reality with her mind again in familiar surroundings. She acknowledged the Judge who was querying whether or not Helena understood the Courtroom’s protocol, even though they had been rehearsing the different aspects of the Courtrooms proceedings. She nodded affirmatively towards Benjamin Strickland as well as acknowledging the Judge’s question. Helena thought to herself that Benjamin Strickland and the Judge would make a formidable combination. The Judge also enquired of Brett’s knowledge as to what was expected of him. Brett was to play a significant role in this masterly planned event, he was smart young boy with talent to burn and his opportunities in life so far had been stifled by the mental and physical abuse, which he had suffered at the hands of his drunken and reckless stepfather. The frequent beatings and total neglect of him eventually brought about his running away from home at the age of eleven. Life on the streets was dismal, kicked around by the older street urchins. Street life was overcrowded, hard and horribly unkind to Brett who had been born in a sparsely populated country town. The warmth that was shown to him by his new ‘adoptive’ family allowed him to grow in the only love that he had ever received and knew. Brett was now fourteen years old, well built and at five feet nine inches tall was a good looking young man with every sinew in his virile young body being well-toned muscle. In a normal loving family environment, his good looks, obvious natural intelligence and creativity, could have ear-marked him as a modern day scholar with the potential to succeed in any field, all he needed was some old fashioned loving care and direction. Instead, Brett was like a devout follower of some bizarre religious sect who danced and performed like a marionette to the ‘Clubs’ puppeteer but this time Brett was about to perform for the benefit of the ‘Cause’ as a prime participant in the ‘Clubs’ plans for the Court case.

Brett’s puppeteer was Helena who pulled the strings to the tune that was dictated to her by her own allegiance to the ‘Club’ and its fellow members. Helena had nurtured and guided Brett over the past twelve months and had successfully brain washed him to a place of submission till he was under her total control. Brett was a little boy in a man’s body who was being manipulated to their beck and call only to serve under the authority of the ‘Cause’. He was to be the scapegoat, a lamb of sacrifice that was to be offered so as to give birth to the Frankenstein child, this abomination to the brotherhood of man whose fleshly desires perpetrated the normal moral standing of society.

The Judge having settled any further or possible future complications that may arise during or after the Court appearance at least those that were foreseeable to the ‘Club’, they decided to close the lengthy meeting and at its closure, refreshments were made available. Miss Ludlam took her usual small sherry but did not remain with the group as it was already very late and she still had to drive some distance home. Hurriedly she drank her sherry and left.      

Customarily the night’s entertainment was only beginning for this unique and peculiar group of people as they excused themselves one by one to seek their baby faced companions, leaving only the Judge and the Doc remaining in the Dining room. As if they suddenly realised, they looked at each other with a gleam in their eye and a glow in their already reddened alcohol induced faces, they simultaneously suggested that they too should retire to seek their respective companions in the upper rooms.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

David’s body lay motionless on the floor in a small downstairs bathroom, the colour of life having drained from his virile young limbs. His hazel eyes were wide open and they stared into an empty void that registered the lack of life and energy that would never to fill this young body again. Both of David’s wrists had been viciously slashed open and blood had splattered everywhere in this tiny room and that certain stench that can only come with death itself filled the immediate area.

It was a grisly sight and one that had taken Lola some time to comprehend; although minutes had passed it seemed an eternity as she stood by the doorway riveted, surveying the scene that lay before her. Her heart was pounding forcefully within its confines that it threatened to burst, as her eyes remained fixed upon the semi-naked body that lay in the congealed blood. The blood from David’s slashed wrists had trickled the short distance across the floor where he lay to exit down the drain, as if invisibly held a droplet of blood hung from the drain hole as if suspended in time. Although Lola had backed away from the bathroom’s entrance, she could not free her eyes from the scene they had remained locked upon the sight before her. Standing some distance away she tried to scream but found the sound would not immediately come but when something did escape her lips, it aroused the attention of everyone upstairs. Her blood-curdling scream was heard throughout the mansion and those upstairs came running down the staircase to where Lola stood. They gathered around her in an attempt to console her and to find the cause of her distress as they could see she was visibly shaking. Following Lola’s line of vision into the bathroom they saw David lying in a pool of blood, their faces registered shock, horror and total disbelief at the sight before them. There was a long eerie silence from the adults but the young girls began to weep uncontrollably, Von-Mueller quickly shuffled the five girls and a stunned and silent Brett upstairs away from the scene. Lola, Helena, Marden, Strickland, Wilkins and the Judge remained, looking at each other blankly hoping that another could draw inspiration from someone else. The same thought passing through the minds of each ‘What do we do now?’

Someone had to grasp the reality of the situation as something was required and whatever it was it needed to be done quickly. The Doc was the first to move and jostled forward to check the body for any signs of life but this was only a vain hope, it was too late. The Doc leant over David’s body and pronounced what seemed as the obvious cause of death as ‘suicide’. As the Doc crouched over the lifeless form he looked into the empty faces of the others that only showed a reflection of his own emptiness. They were all waiting for a decision from someone, anyone as to what they should do?

Forcibly gaining control of his senses Judge Borthwick reminded everyone that they were still in their night attire; he requested them to promptly dress and meet him in the Dining hall. This order was as effective as a General marshalling his troops for battle as they moved with precision and speed. Within five minutes, all were dressed and sitting quietly around the large oak table where the ‘Club’ members had held their meeting only hours before and awaited for the Judge.       

The Judge was the last person to arrive into the Dining hall with good reason, he had dressed slowly and purposefully all the while devising some plan to be rid of this horrid situation. ‘Why now?’ he had thought to himself. ‘The timing couldn’t be worse’. ‘That foolish young man, why did he do it?’ The Judges mind raced as he thought of the inquiring Police and their wretched questionings; The endless pursuit that would inevitably come from newspaper reporters; The scandal and the stigma attached to this type of death; The sideway glances and whisperings from his colleagues in the hallways of Justice when they discovered a young man had been found dead in his home. He could see it all now! His reputation was going down the drain along with David’s youthful blood. No! He thought as he came to a decision. There was only one thing to do and the conclusion was obvious although regrettable, with the decision now finalized in his analytical mind he strode towards the Dining hall where they were all waiting.

Taking his place at the head of the table made a total of nine; James Marden, Doc Wilkins, Benjamin Strickland, Lola Duvwar, Von-Mueller, Mona, Michelle, Brett and finally Judge Borthwick completed the gathering. Von-Mueller had been relieved from attending to the five girls upstairs by Helena. Leaving the three youngest girls upstairs with her, Mona and Michelle the two eldest decided to join Von-Mueller downstairs. The Judge paced in a semi-circle at the head of the table while gathering his thoughts, mentally placing them in the order in which he was going to deliver them. He started by saying that everything would be alright if they all kept their heads then pointedly stated the hired help who had their rostered day off yesterday would be arriving in approximately two hours, so everything must be completed by then. He stated that this tragic affair was nobody’s fault but discretion was essential as everyone here had a great deal to lose one way or another. Everything that they had worked so hard for was now at jeopardy. He inquired as to whether they were willing to sacrifice all that they had achieved by letting this incident get in their way? All but two shook their heads in consent; both Mona and Michelle were simply too stunned by David’s suicide to even decide one way or the other. The Judge continued to pace as he spoke, taking a deep breath he began to reveal his plan. He pointed to several factors, one of which was the disposal of David’s body. All who were seated around the table were aghast at this idea but the Judge was quick to point out they were not dealing with a murder but a suicide. Regrettable as it was the fact remained that David had taken his own life and that was that. If his body were to be found somewhere else it would still be suicide but at the moment with David’s body lying in the downstairs bathroom, any investigation by the Police would bring unfavourable suspicion and could implicate all of us as suspects. No matter how we view the situation and as callous as it may seem, it stands to reason this is the only logical solution to this intricate predicament. They understood what the Judge had meant and nodded in agreement, they looked to one another as if to silently inquire as to who was going to do the dirty work. They were all to play a part in the body’s disposal, which included cleaning the bathroom where it still laid. All would help except for Mona and Michelle who had escaped upstairs to Helena before they were included in any part of the final plans. Lola had also escaped on the pretext of ‘gathering herself’ she was looking for any excuse to get away because she knew what she needed and it wasn’t to be a gathering of herself, but a snort of the miraculous white powder that cured all ills and ailments. Her dependency and addiction to Cocaine saw David’s death, her lover’s death as just a bummer trip and that nothing but a good snort wouldn’t fix. The addiction was truly demoralising and worst of all before she entered into oblivion, she knew it!

The men worked like a well-oiled machine with the Judge in charge, they wrapped the body in an old drop sheet the painters had inadvertently forgotten to collect after renovating the Rumpus room. Von-Mueller and the Doc carried out the now stiffening body into the boot of Doc’s Mercedes while Brett kept watch. David’s body thudded onto the floor of the boot and the lid was firmly shut enclosing him in its darkness.

Everyone that was available and not called for other tasks were armed with scrubbing brushes, mops and disinfectant. They took turns in the tiny bathroom to spotlessly clean every drop of splattered blood from the floor, walls and the bathroom fixtures attacking every nook and cranny as ones possessed. Finally when the job was complete the adults agreed that a stiff drink was in order to curtail the rough edges. Von-Mueller, Brett and the Doc joined the remaining group to discuss the next move as they had now completed all that the Judge had told them to do. The Judge instructed Von-Mueller, Doc and Brett to take the body, the blood splattered clothing and the razor blade that David had apparently used and deposit all of it in the countryside. He advised the Doc who was the driver, to choose an area quite some distance from the mansion and suggested that upon their arrival it would be advisable for the three of them to wear the surgical gloves. When the job was complete they were to place the three pairs of gloves into a plastic bag and bring it with them to the Doc’s Estate where it and the drop sheet would be incinerated. Since Doc Wilkins lived in a northerly direction and some ninety miles from the Judges mansion it did seem an ideal remote area to begin their search. Lola would take the five girls into the city of Adelaide where she had the contacts to supply her with a ‘safe house’. Helena would drive Von-Mueller’s black Corvette to the Doc’s Estate and wait for them to return and only when they had safely returned was she to contact Lola on the mobile telephone to be given directions and the location of the ‘safe house’ where she would drive herself and Brett. Upon her arrival at the ‘safe house’ with Brett, she was to leave him with Lola and take the Von-Mueller’s Corvette into the city to a prearranged location where Marden would be waiting. Marden would then drive the Corvette to his home and Von-Mueller would collect it early the next day and Helena was to take a taxi back to Lola and the children. Strickland and Marden would carry on as normal with their respective businesses while the Judge tampered with Helena’s car so there would be a reason for her driving Von-Mueller’s car, if she should be seen or pulled over for some reason. He would then arrange to have her car repaired as soon as possible. All telephone contacts were to be emergencies only and any further contacts between them would only be through their business offices. With everyone being given their particular task, they set about to complete them.

The Doc eased the silver grey Mercedes along the gravel road that led away from the Judges mansion and turned left onto the Freeway. He pondered the morning events and wondered, why? The Doc was normally calm in any medical emergency as his training had taught him but he began to feel extremely tense and nervous. Other suicides or emergencies that were brought into the Hospital’s Casualty were just unknown faces to him but not this one. The Doc knew him very well or at least thought he did. This cut the Doc deeper than the tools of his trade because he saw David’s death as the loss of a family member. He began to shake uncontrollably and his right leg upon the accelerator pedal caused the Mercedes to fluctuate in power and speed. Von-Mueller noticed and with his normal arrogant style reminded the Doc of his duty to the ‘Club’ and its members and to get control of himself. Brett was seated in the rear of the car on the passengers’ side behind Von-Mueller, still in a state of shock. Brett had not fully comprehended the loss of his friend and comrade in arms who was now lying lifeless in the boot in the rear of this car. Brett reflected the times they had shared, the good and the bad, and to the past where they hustled for small change together playing billiards or eight ball. The times when they competed against one another with video games to see who could achieve the highest score with the loser having to buy lunch. Times when they would get stoned together and talk about their dreams and ambitions, having hundreds of ideas on how to make some easy money. Many of their ideas were simple but were dismissed as being just too simple. They never could remember their plans as they were often too stoned.

Sitting in the seclusion of the rear of the car Brett recalled their more recent conversations. David had asked, why do you think we are here? What are we doing in a situation like this? What is it really all about? Is there a God? Slowly it began to dawn on Brett that he had missed the danger signs and a wave of guilt swept over him. He felt the tears fall from his eyes and trickle down his cheeks and hurriedly wiped them away, becoming a little annoyed. He remembered hearing somewhere, that someone had said, “men don’t cry.

The Mercedes increased its speed to negotiate the traffic while moving smoothly through the Adelaide hills. It was early Sunday morning and the Freeway was busy with Sunday picnickers and tourists alike. Outwardly they appeared as any other vehicle on the road but for one major difference, instead of a picnic lunch in the boot, theirs contained a body. Paranoia set into the Doc’s imagination as the beads of perspiration dotted his brow becoming more restless and nervous. The Doc almost succumbed to the tension within him as a Police Patrol car passed with its two uniformed occupants. Admiringly they glanced at the streamlined quality that was synonymous with the name Mercedes but of the three within they passed without acknowledgement. The Doc was really feeling the pressure of the situation and pulled into the driveway of a Tavern he knew and had frequented in the past. He decided he needed a stimulant before he lost control completely and parked the Mercedes in an available parking space far away from the Tavern but in the shade of some trees.

Von-Mueller could see the Doc was visibly distressed and accompanied him into the Tavern leaving Brett to watch the car. Brett got out to stretch his legs but remained close as advised by Von-Mueller. Von-Mueller was nursing his one drink whilst the Doc was on his third, which he also quickly put ‘down the hatch’. Von-Mueller quietly consoled the Doc and said that owing to his shaky condition it would be better if he drove to wherever they were going. The Doc quickly consented.

Von-Mueller finished his one drink and the Doc his fourth they were soon on their way with Von-Mueller at the wheel. Moving through the gears quickly the cloak and dagger trio were soon heading northwards towards the Doc’s Estate. Unbeknown to Von-Mueller, the Doc had procured a small bottle of strong Scotch at the Tavern, which he had hidden inside his jacket pocket. It was a spirit he never normally drank but at the moment he was in need of something that would give him some courage and that, he sadly lacked for the task at hand. The Doc was to administer a lethal injection that contained a mixture of barbiturates, both uppers and downers. These mixed with the potent purple weed “Durban Poison” as it was commonly called plus the few drinks that David was known to have consumed last night would induce what the junkies call a ‘bummer trip’. All this would bring about a hallucinogenic effect and would initially appear to have caused David’s downfall. The Doc knew that the Coroner and Forensic wouldn’t be fooled by this because he and they knew, without a beating heart the fluid that he was to inject would go no further than the site where it was given but it would divert suspicion as the body would more than likely be dumped somewhere north of his Estate. The Police would then suspect that a group of young kids high on dope had attempted to cover up a night that had gone terribly wrong.

The Doc pulled out the Scotch bottle from his pocket and downed a large gulp and with each subsequent mouthful he felt his confidence returning. His brain began to numb slightly with the Scotch having done its job well and he mused to himself as to why David had done such a thing. The Doc’s melancholy quickly gave way to a determined concentration as he desperately tried to focus on his part of this ghastly business. A dam on a property adjoining the Doc’s which was one of the locations the ‘Club’ members had discussed earlier that morning, would be an ideal location. The Doc remembered the local youth used this dam as a meeting place after the Hotels had closed for their drunken and drugged parties and for skinny-dipping on hot balmy nights. It was a little too close to home but the Doc thought, although there were obvious disadvantages it also had an advantage, the neighbour and Doc were good friends and if any information were to be leaked it may well filter through the neighbour and onto him. The Doc’s inebriated and muddled mind surprisingly gave Von-Mueller precise directions to the location.

They turned into a narrow dirt road, which led to the dam and stopped the Mercedes a short distance away. Getting out of the car all three immediately put on their surgical gloves before cautiously moving to the rear of the vehicle, constantly on the alert to anyone who could be in the vicinity that would observe them. There was no need they were alone. Opening the boot quietly they removed David’s belongings and heaped them near the water’s edge. Von-Mueller and the Doc returned to the car to collect the body that they had wrapped and carried it to the dam wall, releasing one side of the drop sheet the body rolled down the embankment and into the water, coming to rest with the legs and torso under the murky water and the head upon the dry embankment. They folded the drop sheet quickly and hurriedly placed it into the boot of the car while Brett walked over to the pile of clothes and placed the razor blade, David’s chosen implement of death, upon them. Removing their surgical gloves they placed them in the plastic bag the Doc had supplied and secured it and taking it with them to be incinerated with the drop sheet. Quickly and quietly they got into the car wanting to leave as silently as they had arrived. With their dirty work complete they now headed towards the Doc’s Estate where Helena would be waiting for them.

Helena sat patiently on the bonnet of Von-Mueller’s black Corvette parked under some trees out of view while waiting for the three to arrive. She slid off the Corvette’s bonnet as the Mercedes turned into the Estate and they pulled to a stop near her, she walked purposely towards them. As they climbed out of the Mercedes they began to tell her exactly what had transpired and as she listened, she nodded. Von-Mueller went to the rear of the car and opened the boot to remove the bloodstained drop sheet and the knotted plastic bag holding the three pairs of bloodstained surgical gloves, he took both to the rear of the house where he was to incinerate them. The Doc, Helena and Brett headed towards the veranda where the Doc proceeded to make them a long cool drink. When Von-Mueller returned they sat on the veranda trying to come to terms with David’s suicide and the events that surrounded the body’s disposal. Later that afternoon, Helena decided it was best for herself and Brett to depart for the ‘safe house’ now she had the address. Helena and Brett left in the Corvette leaving the Doc and Von-Mueller alone. The only thing that remained for the Doc and Von-Mueller to do was to wait for the outcome of the day’s events so they chose to share in a bottle of something a little stronger than what they had earlier. It was quite some time later when the Doc neared a state of oblivion, followed closely by Von-Mueller.

Helena drove with Brett seated beside her and not a word was spoken between them, as each was deep in thought. They continued along in silence as the day slowly turned into night and the lights of the city began to sparkle. Normally a picturesque sight but not tonight, the gloom of the day’s events had placed a black cloud over the scene. Only a little while longer and they would reach the ‘safe house’ that was in an outer northern suburb of Adelaide. Fifteen minutes later saw them turn into the driveway of a typical suburban home. The house was like any other along the street and was by no means a luxurious home but it would suit their needs admirably, Lola had contacted a Real Estate Agent she knew who could supply a house quickly on a minimum notice, especially on a Sunday. The Real Estate agent who was a long time patron to her business establishment over the years and as she had his special priviledges concerning his sexual appetite repeatedly fulfilled, now was time to call in this outstanding debt had owed her a favour. Lola was a firm believer that you don’t get anything for nothing in this world.

Helena and Brett were greeted by Lola at the front door of the house and were ushered in with the door closing quietly behind them. The atmosphere within the house was morbid; despair was etched on each and every face. Helena thought as she looked at the children this was going to be a long night. Few furnishings graced the house as it was usually rented as a partly furnished home; Lola had at least the forethought to bring the television and video combination with her, which was now playing in the lounge room in an attempt to entertain the girls. Helena told Lola she had to go into town to deliver Von-Mueller’s Corvette to Marden and would be back in about two hours. Helena left thinking to herself that Lola had been drinking heavily while she had been alone as she reeked of alcohol. When Helena returned two hours later, Lola fixed a drink for them both. Helena thought that Lola had obviously been drinking even more in the time she had been gone to see Marden. Lola had had too many but wisely Helena chose not to put her thoughts into words, thinking Lola would be feeling absolutely terrible now with the loss of her young lover. She decided as she sat on a lounge chair with her drink in hand to dial out on her mobile and order pizza. It was evident that no one had given thought to eating that day so she would remedy that. The pizzas arrived and everyone picked at the food showing an evident loss of appetite but at least the road to recovery had begun. Perhaps the road to recovery had but Helena wondered to herself if normality would return into any of their lives again!

Meanwhile at the Judge’s mansion, Judge Walter Borthwick sat alone in an easy chair in his expansive library listening to his favourite classical music, smoking a Corona cigar. On the small table beside him was a half empty bottle of Napoleon Brandy the Judge had used to drink himself into oblivion. This day would have to be the worst day of my life, was his persistent thought? This very room over the years had been an ideal place of inspiration for the Judge where many decisions had been made but even with all his knowledge and all his books of learning, it could never have prepared him for this day. For once he was at a loss as to what to do, as he looked the proverbial picture of a lost soul. As the alcohol took its effect he slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Monday morning and sunshine’s rays filtered through the large drapes that adorned the library’s windows, the Judge’s eyes filled with sleep gradually fluttered open. Still attempting to focus his eyes in the bright morning light he glanced around the library and noticed a half finished cigar in the ashtray, along side a partly filled glass of brandy that was silently beckoning to be finished. Wisely he decided against it, as it would not solve any of his problems, he had to devise a plan for the rest of the day but before he made any decisions he needed a shower and a pot of strong black coffee.

The Judge now felt redeemed as he stood near his kitchen bench looking out of the window sipping his third cup of strong black coffee. Formulating a plan of attack he decided to leave his mansion and arrive at his chambers earlier than usual, from there he would telephone the Doc and inquire as to the events of yesterday. 

Arriving at his chambers he telephoned the Doc at his Estate and found everything had been completed without problem. The Doc also revealed to the Judge that last night he and Von-Mueller were in the same condition as himself. The Judge requested they both meet him for lunch to discuss the matter further. Having finished his telephone conversation to the Doc and replacing the receiver the telephone rang; it was Helena inquiring if he had heard anything on the media. The Judge said there was nothing at the moment but asked if she would like to meet him for lunch, she eagerly accepted. The Judge then said Lola would have to remain at the house to care for the children as the children were not to be left alone under any circumstances. This suited Helena as the tension within the ‘safe house’ was electric and seemed only to be increasing. Helena needed a break desperately but as the Judge still had her car, she would simply tell Lola that retrieving her car would be her reason for going. Helena quickly showered and excused herself from the others feeling relieved to be out of the house as she headed for the city by taxi.

They were all on time at the cafe, which was the Judge’s chosen rendezvous and all were looking edgy and with good reason as the mid morning news had announced the discovery of a youth’s body found in a dam on a property north of Adelaide. Police had described the circumstances as suspicious.

As they sat over coffee four sets of eyes had darted from one to another with their appetite for food evaporating with every passing moment. The atmosphere seemed explosive and yet almost telepathic between them, they decided to leave the tiny cafe where the walls seemed to have ears and the staff appeared to give them unwarranted attention. Their paranoia was presenting itself as their real enemy. Von-Mueller, the Judge and the Doc moved outside to the footpath in front of the cafe whilst Helena made two telephone calls, one to James Marden and one to Benjamin Strickland to advise them of the meeting which would take place at Strickland’s pent-house. Only there could they guarantee their conversation would be in total secrecy and openness amongst themselves, here they were to continue to be bound by their own web of deceit and corruption.

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

The Judge, Doc, Von-Mueller, Strickland and Helena arrived at Strickland’s penthouse while Lola remained at the ‘safe house’ to mind the children. James Marden was delayed by a business transaction and had telephoned Strickland from his car mobile stating he was on his way and would be there in about fifteen minutes. While waiting for Marden to arrive the others took the liberty of Strickland’s penthouse and poured themselves a drink, wandering aimlessly with drinks in hand they studied Benjamin’s fine collection of art that adorned the walls of his luxurious abode as if viewing for the first time. In this towering fortress above the hectic city streets, the Doc and the Judge were having a casual conversation within the enclosed balcony, which Strickland had converted into a thriving greenhouse that contained exotic plants and ferns of every shape and size, in this tranquil setting Strickland could relax after the hectic pace of the day.

The ringing of the doorbell noticeably silenced the hushed tone of voices within the penthouse. Every nerve was at attention, everyone’s heartbeat drummed loudly in their own ears, muscles within the throat constricted the ability to swallow. Strickland moved slowly towards the door as every eye watched him. Only when James Marden walked into Strickland’s penthouse did the members feel relieved but realised how vulnerable they were. Subconsciously each member had expected an uninvited guest to enter with Marden but the uninvited guest would be wearing a Police uniform. There were uninvited and unseen guests that entered with James and they came as a dark cloud hovering over Marden’s whole being. The spirits of Deception, Worry, Anxiety, Stress, Lies and Confusion had all followed him through the door and into that room. These uninvited guests collaborated with Paranoia who had previously taken up residency within each of these members and the entry of these new vicious companions made a formidable enemy against each and every member’s sanity. These unseen guests worked together to open an invisible door to Chaos and Corruption. As soon as Marden opened his mouth and spoke into existence what had been broadcast on the Midday News the invisible door was opened. Chaos, Corruption and the rat pack of demon spirits who had walked in with Marden began their torment of each and every member’s mind.

Marden elaborated on the version of the news he had heard on the radio that revealed small amounts information the Police had released. Apparently the earlier information concerning the suicide death of a young boy found in a dam north of Adelaide has now been confirmed as foul play. Details were still sketchy but various bruising to the victim’s body now suggests homicide. The eyes of everyone in the room darted from one to another and back again to Marden, the news was to grow worse as Marden continued. It was also not just the Police who were inquiring into the death of David but now the ‘Runaway Action Group’ had become involved, and both were investigating what had initially been thought of as a ‘mysterious suicide’.

The Runaway Action Group or R.A.G as it was colloquially known was a newly formed and relied heavily upon public funding for its continuation. R.A.G. was the brain child of a red headed Scotsman Rory McLaughlan who was described as a ‘human dynamo’ by those who dealt with him on a regular basis. Rory had a burning desire within him to do what he believed to be right and a deep passion to help children everywhere, his passion was to see the lives of children restored and to see their faces alight with happiness. This far outweighed the bureaucratic red tape and the pompous politicians in which he was forced to deal. Rory was viewed by many as a pig-headed and arrogant man as well as being down right irritating, yet Rory had the support of many people from all walks of life who believed as he, that this was an honourable cause. Rory saw himself as a man with a mission in his life.

Judge Borthwick assumed control of the impromptu meeting at Strickland’s penthouse and lay to rest any allegations of murder, as he would openly vouch for each and every member of the ‘Club’. As far as the bruising that was found on David’s body, it could have happened as David fell in the bathroom or perhaps he was unduly manhandled when his body was dumped. The Doc interrupted the Judge and explained that it was impossible to bruise a dead body because the heart had stopped. Although the Doc did agree that it was highly possible to have occurred while David was still alive in the bathroom. The Judge accepted the Doc’s knowledge of such things and his explanation but either way the damage had been done and that was that. The Judge then encouraged each of them to keep a cool head. Certainly there were questions that required answers but they were made aware of an even bigger problem. What would be the personal consequences to each considering the positions they now held in society?

Von-Mueller was the first to bring an even more obvious predicament to the attention of the others, what about the children as they were a direct link to David and know of his suicide and of its subsequent disposal? The members knew too well that a suicide of a friend was bad enough but if the children were to hear the Police now considered murder a possibility! How could they realistically expect the children to be quiet? Those that were in Strickland’s penthouse were aware of the reputation of the Police Force as the best in the world but they were now coupled with Rory MacLaughlan, a terrier like Scotsman from R.A.G. who was noted as being good bed-fellows with the Police. Rory often assisted the Police in their inquiries and the Police were known to call upon Rory’s knowledge of certain matters regarding missing or mischievous teenagers. They realised they were in it up to their necks!

They were seated in Strickland’s comfortable pastel grey lounge suite with its separate chairs nestled comfortably into a sunken area of the lounge room with its highly polished wood flooring. Distributed throughout the room were many unusual ornaments that were collected from Strickland’s overseas trips to the Orient and South East Asia. A very charming room with the decor of pastel colours were restful to one’s eyes, an ideal haven after Benjamin’s gruelling day in Court where he crusaded for justice or at least the justice according to man’s sometimes-questionable law. For the first time the members were to reveal the dark and ugly side of man’s nature, a revelation not easily digestible to the heart of man. Sin was at work which was inherited from the Garden of Eden right down through every generation of man to this very meeting where the forces of Good and Evil would once again be at cross purposes. One of God’s Holy Commandments “Thou shalt not kill” was about to be put to the sword.

Perched high above the ‘City of Lights’ in this aloof concrete nest, these ‘respected’ socialites who wouldn’t normally consider murder as an option found their ‘Cause’ was the greater driving force. They had too much to lose and the ‘Cause’ would be jeopardised. All the years of planning, the dreams, the lifestyle, everything they had worked for; was it all to be for nothing? Their sexual freedom was what they had to lose and it was a too big a price to pay so the lives of the young juveniles would be the offering to keep the ‘Cause’ alive. Their lovers would pay the price for the sake of the ‘Cause’. The sacrifice was a small one compared to the joy that many would benefit from the new laws that would be introduced, the children were expendable and this ‘Cause’ must live on even if the children did not!

With no other option clearly available to them, they callously voted on the course of action to be taken and the results were unanimous. This ruthless act of betrayal had to have no loose ends and no chance of the children talking. They agreed to hire a professional as they openly admitted they were neither capable nor qualified to dispose of the children. Regrettably they decided this act had to be put into the hands of Lola Duvwar and employ the use of her covert contacts.

These hired assassins had no morals, no consciences and were totally unscrupulous, having no loyalties to anyone but to the one who paid them and once paid, their loyalties ceased. To commit murder they had to be cold-blooded with ice running through their veins. Five innocent and young lives had to be eliminated with only Brett being spared for his day in Court to perform for the ‘Cause’. Helena could easily manipulate Brett and lying to him was simple because of his gullibility and undying love for her, she would simply tell him that the five girls were relocated so they could make new lives for themselves with all expenses paid! He would believe her and accept it as the truth.

The pathetic group made their way out of Strickland’s penthouse and paraded in single file towards the elevator in silence. Entering a dome of silence that surrounded the elevator that had now become a congested coffin on cables, the unanimous decision was graphically etched upon the face of each member. Downwards was the direction of the elevator and downwards was the direction of their souls from this day forward.

The Judge stood quietly in the elevator and pondered the predicament he was now in and remembered those he had judged and sent to prison over the years. He considered himself as a fair and just man but right now the ‘Right Honourable Walter Thomas Borthwick’ through one tragic act and terrible twist of fate had changed his whole way of thinking. He was becoming the judged and not the Judge becoming the very criminal element that he had so often put behind bars. All his moralistic values were on trial, here in the elevator there was no Courtroom drama being performed but his mind was weighed down like the scales of justice. Could he justify his own thoughts or verbal action by condemning these children to death? One of who was his own lover. Only now as he neared the end of his life had it been revealed to him that all men were equal? He was no better than any of the criminal element that had faced his Bench for sentencing so how could he honestly judge another’s crime when given extenuating circumstances as the situation that now faced him. The Judge’s whole life appeared as one of hypocrisy and yet now self-preservation was uppermost in his thoughts. Right or wrong, the lusts of the carnal man would be satisfied and sacrifices had to be made to appease the god of vanity.

The Doc who was Walter’s friend of many years also stood beside him deep in thought. His thoughts returned to the beginning of his internship when he took the Hippocratic oath and now with a hopelessly resigned expression, he acknowledged it appeared to have been a hypocritical oath. A Doctor who had sworn to save lives had now conspired to take them; he mentally shook himself and decided that life was truly a strange phenomenon. The Doc recalled having a conversation years ago with an American Indian Chief who had described life to him as a mighty river. This river would meander slowly in some areas but in others it would rush uncontrollably down waterfalls and rapids to produce new life in abundance, yet at other times it would also take a life. The taking of that life would be to the advantage of another as it would now be sustained and preserved by another’s death. It was the natural way of things and this was the ‘River of Life’.   Doctor Richard Edward Wilkins knew of life and he knew of death through his many years in his profession where he had seen both but he had never been faced with a situation where he was part judge, part jury and part executioner. The Doc felt justified in what he was doing and reconciled himself to the fact that he was doing this for the benefit of their future and for the future of the new lives that the ‘Cause’ would bring.

The elevator’s lights that signalled the passing floors and by its constant humming as it moved through the various levels of the building mesmerized Strickland. As the number of each floor rolled backwards to the basement Strickland was reminded of the past and the Court battles in which he had engaged and was victorious. As a good Defence Lawyer his pride, arrogance and being a stickler for the rules were to him prerequisites for winning. If he found a loophole in the law he would always use it to his advantage just as any good chess player when necessary, would use his Castle to protect his King and to finally use another loophole he had discovered in the judicial system was his ace in the hole. Benjamin Strickland now pondered the saying he once heard ‘Don’t do the crime, if you can’t do the time’ so silently he questioned himself “Could he?” The clanging shut of the prison cell doors and the rattling of keys as Prison Officer’s opened cell doors was not a new sound to him as a great deal of business took him to these places where freedom was not a word used by many. Bleak would aptly describe the decor of these Institutions and try as he might he could not imagine what it would be like on a more permanent basis. A place where any privilege was just that and no more. His frequent visits to prisons to speak to those of whom he was to defend, he had often heard the sentenced inmates talk about what they missed. Obviously family and friends but more of the little things of life, like the putting on of a favourite pair of jeans or reading a newspaper that wasn’t a few days old; being able to buy a drink at a cafe or at the local pub. Strickland knew the high price that the members could pay but what of the consequences to those whose passion was to be with young girls. He could feel the walls of the elevator closing in on him and he wanted to scream to release his frustration but reminded himself to be strong and keep his head, the decision was made and all had agreed. To Strickland’s relief the elevator had stopped and as the doors slid open it revealed an underground car park at the basement floor.

James Marden was the first to reach and start his Ferrari and as he sped out of the car park his red taillights quickly disappearing into the night. Without a predetermined destination Marden drove aimlessly, accompanied by a deafening silence and emptiness within his soul. The meeting at Strickland’s penthouse was being relived over and over in his mind. Having nowhere to run and nowhere to hide he realised he would be alone with his conscience for the rest of his life and that was a frightening prospect. The passing signposts became blurred by his misty vision and the lights from oncoming cars hypnotised his senses. Marden tried to justify his decision but without success he knew he was in for the long haul and all of them had passed the point of no return.

“James” a strong voice spoke into his mind “Get a grip and pull yourself together. Think of them only as pawns to be sacrificed in a game.” Yes he thought, a game that was so large that they were insignificant and expendable so it was logical to treat it as another wheeling and dealing adventure. “Grow up James” came the voice again “That’s life, here one minute and gone the next. Show no mercy. Anyway, it’s not as if you have to kill them that’s why you are about to hire Assassins.” Marden silently nodded in agreement to the voice, it was going to be the Money Mercenaries who would do the dirty work. Marden consoled himself sufficiently as he pulled his Ferrari into a seaside Tavern in the coastal town of Victor Harbour, which was about a one hours drive south of Adelaide. James was to walk for miles that evening along the tranquil beach that was enhanced by the near full moon and his only companion was a bottle of ‘Jack Daniels’; temporary medicine to soothe his soul.

Lola Duvwar had remained at the ‘safe house’ to watch the children and was beginning to prepare a medicine of a different sort. She laid a line of Cocaine ready for use when the doorbell rang, it was Helena and Von-Mueller who had come directly from the meeting at Strickland’s in separate vehicles. Lola noticed the look on their faces and could see there was something they had to tell her so she indicated that they should move to the backroom for privacy and where her Cocaine line awaited her. Duvwar ignored Von-Mueller and Helena and proceeded with her medicine, she had just enough time to snort the white powder and do the usual flicking of her head to achieve the tingling sensation that would grip her senses, when all of a sudden she felt something else grip her, it was Helena. She grabbed hold of Duvwar’s hair and dragged her to the floor; one, two and a third hit was being registered before Von-Mueller could restrain her. Helena had finally released her pent up emotions by lashing out at this black alley cat whose answer for everything lies in bottle or this so-called wondrous white powder. Exhausted by her actions and her emotions Helena limply curled herself into a corner of the room, crying uncontrollably. Helena knew they were in too deep and there was no turning back even if it were possible, they no longer controlled their destiny the ‘Cause’ had taken precedence.

The children were in the lounge room busy getting ‘stoned’ or playing video games and out of earshot when Von-Mueller told Duvwar about the vote the members had taken at the meeting at Strickland’s. Duvwar digested the information as she paced agitatedly up and down the length of the scantily furnished back room while avoiding any eye contact with a whimpering Helena in one corner. Lola’s appearance gave the impression of a caged black panther who would kill for a way out, her mind raced as the Cocaine began to take its full effect. She pictured David’s lifeless body lying on the floor of the bathroom’s mansion in a pool of blood. As she continued to pace she visualised each child’s face that were innocently playing video games in the other room, blissfully unaware of the impending fate. The Cocaine brought on a drug-induced state of authority and sense of self-control ‘Come on Lola’ she thought to herself ‘Get a grip!’ She had been in league with the mafia for some time now and had previously been the ‘go-between’ in plenty of shady deals and various dirty tactics including ‘hits and bashings’ but this time it was to effect the very people she knew. Hesitating only for a moment before coming to a decision she gave Von-Mueller the nod. Duvwar would make the arrangements but this favour was going to cost them and cost them plenty. Von-Mueller nodded in submission to the stealthy black cat of the underworld and Duvwar’s eyes met with his for what seemed an eternity. Von-Mueller tore his eyes from her cold and unemotional gaze as Herman bowed to this controlling seductress of sin. They now had the answer from Lola that they had wanted and as there was no more to be said, Herman rose from his seat and headed to the lounge room where the children were playing video games. Helena followed Von-Mueller out of the backroom and headed for the bathroom to tidy her appearance.       

Herman placed his large and despondent frame into a chair and with his gaze fixed into oblivion his mind was tormented. His entire world was falling to pieces around him and his tough facade peeled away like a clown removing his makeup. The real Herman Von-Mueller was there for all the world to see and like a man looking at his reflection in a mirror who searches for a deeper inner self, it reflected an image of a coward, a spineless creature, an insignificant speck of human refuse. How could a man with such a high profile that commanded respect in the manly sport of weight lifting be just the opposite? Depression and despair engulfed Von-Mueller’s entire being as his eyes returned from staring into oblivion and moved slowly across the room to scan the children. When all at once like a magnet his young lover’s head turned away from the game she had been playing and her young innocent eyes met his, with a sheepish grin she gave him a wink, Von-Mueller could tolerate no more as he rose and headed for the front door. At that moment Helena chose to enter the lounge room and crossed his path almost knocking her to the floor in his haste to reach the door. He left hurriedly without a goodbye or an apology to the winded Helena.

Von-Mueller fired up his black Corvette that was parked near Helena’s Porsche, which she had collected from the Judge earlier and sped off at high speed, the Corvette’s taillights vanishing into the night. Helena winded by the sudden solid object of Von-Mueller’s frame caught only a glimpse of Herman’s face as he left. Helena noticed what she knew to be tears rolling down his cheeks that acted as an alarm system to trigger long buried emotions deep within her. She headed towards her own makeshift bedroom and in the quiet darkness of the room she curled into a foetal position and wrestled with her soul for the remainder of the night.

Exhaustion had eventually claimed Helena as she awoke to the sound of the city’s bird inhabitants idly chattering outside of the open window. The dawning of a new day only brought a remembrance of the situation they were now in. Brett’s tender loving arm now lay draped over her waist having come to bed sometime after she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Helena was in a stupefied state of not being fully awake when the realisation that the previous night’s decision was not a nightmare and wished Helena Jorgensen had never been born!     

Helena carefully rose from the bed taking care not to awaken Brett and crept out of the bedroom down the hallway and into the kitchen, where the silence of the house greeted her. Wiping her eyes to remove the sleep dust she made herself a hot strong black coffee and with every mouthful the cobwebs began to clear in her head. In the bright light of the day she convinced herself that this was the only way out for all of them, the children had to be the sacrificial lambs since the ‘Cause’ had to continue and History was about to be made. Helena did feel some sadness that fate had stepped in to twist the events but reconciled herself to the fact that she was doing right. The change that the ‘Cause’ would eventually bring would allow people to express themselves the way that nature had planned. ‘We have rights too’ she thought.

Helena was deep in thought and gazing into nothingness when she heard shuffling coming from the hallway that appeared to be heading towards her in the kitchen, it was Lola looking tired and drawn. When Lola drew near Helena she could smell stale alcohol. The darkness around her eyes were a tell tale symptom of the lack of sleep, crying or both. Her hair showed signs of the restless tossing and turning of attempted sleep during the night and the clothes she wore looked as though she had slept in them. Not a word of conversation passed either of their lips until Lola helped herself to the black coffee Helena made minutes ago. Lola was on her second cup before she beckoned Helena with her hand to come outdoors where they could talk privately.       

Carrying their replenished cups of black coffee they moved outside to the rear of the house into the sparse garden. Lola explained she had already made several phone calls to her connections that were linked to the mafia and she was to meet someone today in regards to the business at hand. She asked if Helena would nursemaid to the children while she was away. Helena agreed.    

Later in the morning after the conversation in the garden with Helena, Duvwar made a few telephone calls in private. One of them was to the Judge informing him as to her progress and asked if there were any last minute changes, there wasn’t! After completing the telephone calls Lola told Helena that she would be leaving to go to her home and gathered a few items from her makeshift bedroom in the ‘safe house’ including another line of her special medicine before leaving. Lola really felt like the pits and had decided she should go home where she could shower and change in a more congenial atmosphere and where she could have another Cocaine line before her appointment without Helena’s condescending eyes critically examining every move she made. She was going to need all the help that she could muster to meet with this assassin from the mafia, the ‘Angel of Death’.

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

At the intersection of King William Street and North Terrace stood Government House, at its western side on North Terrace was the exquisitely designed Adelaide Casino complete with an upstairs Restaurant. To the rear of Government House on King William Street was a wonderful piece of architecture, the ‘Festival of Arts’ theatre where one could attend the latest theatre productions. Going eastward of King William Street but remaining on North Terrace, there was the Museum and the immaculately kept Botanical Gardens complete with an adequate Zoological Gardens. Opposite the River Torrens where Lola was now standing was the lush green cricketer’s paradise of the Adelaide Oval that had supported many a cricketing legend. No doubt the great Don who was a wizard with the willow would be at the top of the list. Knighted for his cricketing excellence ‘Sir Donald Bradman’ made his wonderful presence known at this very oval but very soon a different presence was about to make itself known to Lola Duvwar!

An evil presence accompanied this tall skulking figure dressed smartly in black, his shoes highlighted their mirror finish showing the hallmark of quality and upon his head was a distinguishing Panama hat. Moving quietly and with stealth he climbed the steps of the Gazebo coming ever closer to the unaware Lola. Coming from behind, he reached out and grabbed her firmly by the shoulder that sent Lola’s Cocaine induced heart pulsating even faster. Startled, Lola swung around and faced the one who had taken hold of her shoulder and was still firmly holding her. Fortunately she chose to wear sunglasses which masked the terror in her eyes but even with this aid, she felt his dark brown almost black eyes penetrate into her soul. Every fibre within her well proportioned body quivered in fear as she felt her inner space being invaded and desecrating everything within her that was even half way good.

Lola was a cold calculating woman herself but this man made her feel as helpless as a child and totally under his control. She was more than humbled by the sheer presence of this trained assassin and if the eyes were the mirrors to the soul, then this man was straight from hell!

As Lola had been instructed by her telephone contact, she was to dress in black with the adornment to her apparel of a red silken rose bud that was to be attached to left front lapel of her clothing, it was to distinguish her from the many others that would be at the River. He smiled and introduced himself as “Raven’. A smile that only a hyena could find loving thought Lola. She responded to his smile by taking hold of his outstretched arm he had offered to escort her down the Gazebo steps onto the cushioned grassy slopes. As they walked towards a path that ran beside the water’s edge they discussed price and payment arrangements for the job. Once this had been established Lola was informed of the time frame and when his telephone call could be expected. ‘Raven’ gave a strict order that none of the children were to leave the ‘safe-house’ for any reason whatsoever. He did not elaborate any further and Lola wisely chose not to ask. To others at the river their solemn slow walk and black clothing appeared as a couple who had come from paying their last respects, their conversation was unhurried and in hushed tones. There was an element of truth to their appearance although a little premature. Fifty thousand dollars was the price of five very young and beautiful lives.

Later that day ‘Raven’ telephoned Antonio Bentennelli regarding his meeting with Lola and the events that were developing. Bentennelli was pleased to see his plans were beginning to unfold beautifully and this pathetic group of paedophiles were like putty in his hands, they thought they had control over the recent chain of events. Antonio Bentennelli’s only regret was he could have made some money from these teenage ‘working girls’ sometime in the future but this thought quickly passed, he knew they were a liability. He was soon to share in the fifty thousand from these fools who still thought that they were in control of their destiny and the ‘lovechild’ they were nursing, but only for the moment. The ‘lovechild’ called paedophilia was his! Yes Bentennelli thought, his plan was coming together and with this he hung up the telephone on ‘Raven’

Two days had passed and there was still no contact from ‘Raven’ and the tension mounted in the ‘safe house’ with the adults. Everyone became restless and agitated as they waited on the same telephone call for two different reasons. On Friday morning the awaited telephone call came and Lola quickly picked up the receiver to listen to ‘Ravens’ instructions. She was to have the money ready as pre-arranged and the girls prepared that evening, as he would be arriving at precisely at 8.00pm. He warned Lola not to delay and hung up. 

The girls had been lulled into a false sense of security with notions of new beginnings, a whole new life was already planned for them in Darwin where they would be established with new ‘Sugar Daddies’ and they shouldn’t be concerned about anything as they would be protected. The children naively believed their lovers because they had been cared for so well over the years with fine clothing, jewellery and money for simply being sexually active and life wasn’t that bad, they had known of others that were a lot worse off than they. The girls gullibly believed their lovers as they awaited the beginning of their journey with anticipation watching the clock slowly tick towards 8:00pm. The girls eagerly packed a few items that each had wanted with them but were told to take only enough clothing for a few days until their arrival in Darwin as a whole new wardrobe awaited them. The girl’s excitement had them ready to leave well before 8:00pm with more than sufficient drugs to keep them ‘high’ for a very long trip.

‘Raven’ arrived precisely at 8:00pm as he had stated and the girls hurriedly seated themselves inside the spacious vehicle, within minutes the black Ford Maverick Four wheel drive with its dark tinted windows sped off into the night.

A short time later the girls had become ‘stoned’ on some Samaritan tripping grass mixed with Moroccan hashish, a strong combination for any seasoned smoker but for these young girls it was a powerful concoction. Some ‘trippy acid rock’ was playing on the car’s stereo acting as a crescendo to their already exhilarating head rush and with the Ford Maverick speeding northwards on Highway One, the girls now high on dope saw the Ford Maverick as a space capsule rocketing ever faster to new horizons, new adventures and new beginnings but ‘Ravens’ mind was on other avenues.       

 ‘Raven’ studied the road markers on the side of the road indicating the distances to towns and was frequently dazzled by the array of lights from heavy haulage vehicles speeding to their destinations. He pondered on what he would do with his part of the blood money as a sadistic smile swept his face. He thought about the ease in which this money was to be earned and chuckled quietly, thanking the powers that be for the world’s gutless individuals who could not do their own dirty work.

Every town they passed seemed to get smaller than the one before as they moved further northward, further and further away from the ‘City of Churches’ and into some of the harshest country of Australia. The locals that inhabited this sparsely populated land measured what they owned not in acres but by the square mile and there were thousands of those in this apparent God forsaken arid country. The road traffic became more and more scarce and the people they met when refuelling were friendly and down to earth, the type that would take time to help if you had need of it but ‘Raven’ was not that type, he didn’t need any help and he most certainly didn’t need anyone. He looked upon these good-hearted country folk as simple busybodies who were always asking, Where are you from? What work did he did do? Where are you going? They wanted to know more about him than he wanted them to know and these people annoyed him with their damned simplistic attitudes. He knew all he needed to know and as he left these people behind he put the accelerator down and headed towards Highway Eighty Seven.

The Highway was also named Stuart’s Highway that connected the South to the North of Australia and had taken many explorers and others through its centre. In 1862 the explorer John McDouall Stuart crossed the continent from the south to the north and today this Highway is named in honour of his achievement. A sign of the harsh terrain on this main artery north was evident as both sides of the Highway were littered with cars of every shape and size, having been abandoned by their owners because they had failed to succeed in their journey.

As Saturday begun to dawn promising a new day, the early morning light revealed the reality of the sparse countryside over an even wider area. Saltbush and dried salt lakes dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see and the girls became bored having come down from their ‘highs’ to straighten out. They became restless, irritable and aggressive towards one another within the vehicle’s confines and with ‘Ravens’ concentration now focusing on the heightened bickering, disaster struck.

In the early morning light a six-foot ‘Big Red’ Kangaroo bounded across the Highway becoming a lethal weapon to the Ford Maverick. ‘Ravens’ attention was diverted momentarily from the Highway to intervene in the girls squabbling and it had slowed his reactions. As the girls screamed he glimpsed a flash of something before the ‘Red” buckled with the pressure of the Ford Maverick, hitting the Bull Bar before it went under. Although it had taken the brunt of the impact, the unforgiving road surface had forced the kangaroo upwards making the Four Wheel Drive bounce and climb. Just as the Kangaroo exited from under the vehicle, the steering felt markedly different to ‘Raven’ so he immediately pulled to the side of the road. Surveying the damage he noticed various steering linkages had been bent and twisted by the impact and this would now make it impossible to accurately steer, they could go no further. It was a predicament that ‘Raven’ did not care to be in.

‘Raven’ was furious, forty-five miles was all that separated him from the end of his mission and the end of the line for these teenage social outcasts where his nursemaid duties would cease. Opal mining was prevalent in this part of the country where once there had been an abundance of this precious and beautiful stone miners now eked out a living, only a rare few would ever strike the mother lode. Only a special breed of people were able to survive out here in this harsh land that required a mental and physical toughness, living in complete isolation and relying upon their own wits for survival that made its own rules. Miners were accustomed to sleeping with handguns under their pillows as many a claim jumper soon discovered when confronted with their destiny in the bottom of an abandoned mine shaft and this is exactly where ‘Raven’ anticipated putting this carload of juvenile junkies. in one of the surrounding abandoned mines of Coober Pedy, this would be their final resting place.

The day was beginning to warm markedly as he pondered the forty-five miles that separated him from Coober Pedy and was far from anything that looked like a town where assistance could be found. Isolated on this stretch of Highway was a broken down car; five over tired and complaining female teenagers and ‘Raven’ a hot-blooded Italian assassin. The frustrated ‘Raven’ angrily walked to where the dead Kangaroo lay and savagely kicked it.

As the sun climbed even higher, the heat began to shimmer in a haze across the salt flats and the saltbush appeared as overgrown hazy heads of broccoli, and everything seemed to echo in this still and lifeless land. Small desert creatures moved hurriedly across the sun drenched land to take shelter under any available shade to escape the rapidly climbing sun. The sun’s heat reflected from the bitumen and acted as a giant frying pan to slowly cook any flesh that was near. Birds of prey hovered overhead in anticipation of a tasty meal but little did they know help was on the way.

In the hazy distance a small speck headed towards them as ‘Raven’ impatiently waited and watched the little speck grow little by little. What are they doing, pushing it? The speck seemed to be making very little progress towards them but the girls became more and more excited as they saw a vehicle drawing closer and closer. ‘Raven’ only showed impatience.

A German built Volkswagen commonly known as a Combivan finally arrived and willingly offered their assistance. A couple whose appearance seemed to be the last remnants of the flower power generation was navigating the Volkswagen. They explained they were ‘Children of God’ on a mercy mission and were heading toward the mission fields of outback Australia. Out here was where God had called them to do His work in the spreading of the Gospel of Jesus Christ; they were to share this with all the wayward souls of central Australia and to work with the indigenous people of the region. Saving souls was to be their prime objective and sharing with others about the love of Jesus. These crusaders for Christ with their message of caring, sharing and love did not appeal at all to ‘Raven’ or the girls and anything about this Jesus’ and His precious blood that was shed for them had ‘Raven’ wanting to puke. He had enough of their message and all he wanted was to get to Coober Pedy as quickly as possible.

 The Combivan slowly putted its melodic way along the Highway towards Coober Pedy with a tape playing ‘What a friend we have in Jesus’. For the first time in ‘Ravens’ life he squirmed uncomfortably the whole distance, how he hated these good Samaritans that had given them a lift.

 One hour later they pulled into a Service Station on the edge of Coober Pedy and as the sliding door of the Combivan opened to release its captives, ‘Raven’ felt relieved the journey had finally come to an end. ‘Raven’ grimaced a half smile in thanks for the lift and pulled the sliding door of the Combivan to a close. This seemed to act as a signal to the Messiah missionaries inside to putter away towards their destination, singing more songs about a man they called ‘Jesus’. ‘Raven’ walked away disgusted deciding that they were using a crutch to get through life, depending upon someone else to fix things and that someone had been dead for two thousand years! No thanks thought ‘Raven’, I’ll rely on myself to do the fixing and I will get it right the first time and I will do it in my time. He headed towards the telephone to make a call and then he would locate a place where he could get a good stiff drink, he needed to wash away the taste these people had left in his mouth.

‘Raven’ placed a call to a ‘Costa Nostra’ friend and then found himself a bottle of ‘Sambuca’, which had just enough kick to rekindle the fire in his soul. Antonio Bentennelli was a fifty eight year old elder statesman who had over ten years of allegiance to the Mafia in this obscure place and surprisingly pulled a lot of strings from his outback hideaway. Antonio arranged for the car to be towed into town and repaired before the end of the day. Antonio’s opal mine was the perfect front to launder millions of dollars over a period of several years with his expansive contacts and unlimited resources. The lifestyle he had chosen was one of personal choice since the death of his teenage bride many years before and having chosen not to fall in love again, he retained a hermit like existence in this majestically built home in an underground dugout. The home used the existing rock as the internal walls and that solid rock was lavishly furnished in a classical Mediterranean style. Naturally cooled by its underground positioning it was totally powered by solar energy and certainly was an oasis in a vast and cruel land.

Here in Bentennelli’s hideaway sat ‘Raven’ accompanied by the roadway refugees. The girls naively believed fate was kind to them after the day’s event on the road and good luck brought them to this place of rescue, knowing nothing of their destiny that had been planned by ‘Raven’ and Bentennelli. Initially, it was bad luck that had slowed ‘Ravens’ plans but after glass or two of encouragement he resolved it could wait a little longer. Meanwhile he would relax and have a few drinks with his fellow countryman and talk a little business. The events of the day were a mere delay and no more.

Drugs and alcohol flowed freely amongst the girls while the mafia members paced and talked in their own language. What was on the minds of the men became evident as they decided to have some fun tonight with the girls, having been conditioned street kids they were easily coerced into a night of fun and frolic, the girls suspected earlier in the evening it would lead to this so were not surprised, neither did they care, as only one thing accounted for anything in this world and that was money, and there was plenty offered as a reward for satisfaction. Money brought the willingness of the girls to satisfy the sexual appetites of these Italian Henchmen. These men introduced other dimensions of sexual awareness to the already long repertoire of the girls and by Sunday morning they desired to spur the party on.       

Late on Sunday afternoon, Bentennelli suggested a sightseeing tour of the old opal mines now that the heat of the day had lessened and before his guests were to depart for Darwin later that evening, ‘Raven’ agreed and the girls accepted the invitation.

Walking around the old mines Bentennelli was an experienced tour guide as he explained the mines workings and showed the girls how to recognise opals. As the day began to close Bentennelli took them to one last mine before it would become too dark to see and where the girls were to unknowingly visit their opal chipped tombs. They were offered a lethal mix of pure uncut heroine rolled into a joint, which they accepted and by it were enticed into their final moment of existence. The five girls stood near the abandoned mineshaft smoking the joint with Sunday’s sunset overlooking outback of Australia. This was to be the girls last sunset and as the last smoke ring filtered into the atmosphere the girl’s last breaths of life were gasped. The poison had taken its evil effect and their features suddenly changed from their youthful and rosy complexions to be replaced by a deathly colour of white bluish grey.

The girls lay where they fell, near the opening of an abandoned shaft. These children that had so long ago lost their innocence had now in this God forsaken country lost their lives, they now lay motionless beside the deep unused mineshaft.

‘Raven’ used his foot and kicked each one into the pit of doom. It was finished.

 

PART II

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

Duvwar dialled each of the members in turn to inform them of ‘Ravens’ telephone call. Every member received Duvwar’s news with a deathly silence as they realised the impact of their decision, they had gone beyond the realms of their safe and private worlds and into a harsh new brutal reality. They had become the very scum they had heard about and had once frowned upon, this type of dirt would not go away or be easily washed down the drain and it would be a cross they would have to bare. These tombstones were made of flesh and blood and inscribed on the hearts of those responsible as the memory of the young girls etched indelibly into their minds, the names of Mona, Michelle, Natalie, Angelica and Sarah would haunt each and every one, they had no choice but to live with their decision.       

The fortnightly meeting of the members was due to be held this coming Saturday at the Judge’s mansion but owing to David’s death a little over a week ago and only a day after the girls, an impromptu meeting was called for that evening at the Doc’s Estate to discuss the preparations for the ‘Cause’.      

The night sky was pitch black with ominous clouds blanketing the majestic tapestry that God had created in the heavens. Not a single star shone, not a sign of any animal or human life was seen on the long and lonely drive to the Doc’s Estate. The Judge turned into the driveway of the Estate and drove towards the asphalt car park where he saw the vehicles that had arrived before him and mentally noted their owners and knew they were all here. Being the last to arrive and having parked his car, he sat for a moment within its silent confines deep in thought. What would the meeting tonight accomplish? Would they be successful with the ‘Cause’? The Judge climbed out of his car and locking it behind him began to walk slowly towards the house, he stopped and looked around as if seeking answers from the cold dark night that surrounded him. The starless night was to only echo the void that he felt in his own soul and with footsteps that were heavier these days he moved reluctantly to the steps that led to the familiar entrance of the Doc’s house. At the door he paused a moment to gather his thoughts then rang the bell.       

A brief moment later he was ushered inside to meet his coven of co-conspirators where he saw the state of their bereaving souls revealed on the dark and drawn faces. It appeared to the Judge as a ‘wake’ rather than a meeting that was supposed to give life to the ‘Cause’.     

Judge Borthwick poured himself his usual drop of courage and hurried it down which stimulated his nervous system to cry out for more, the Judge obliged. He poured himself another to sip and as his nerves became more settled he opened the meeting and suggested in a manner that revealed his authority that they move into the Dining Hall to discuss tonight’s agenda.

In the past this very Hall had often held Gala Balls for the Doc’s Fund Raising activities and was a room in pristine condition and full of glamour, one that could be imagined as being filled with gaiety and the royal pomp of the early Victorian era. The elegance of the room reflected the atmosphere of a bygone era of early colonialism and a time when Australia was heavily influenced by British rule and when English aristocracy governed the laws of the land. The ceilings boasted exquisite floral plaster mouldings created by master craftsmen of the time. Specialised craftsmen of the same calibre had constructed the highly polished wooden ‘Jarrah’ floors that reflected every movement of the regal guests as they danced the night away, waltzing to the tunes of the great composers and as they danced in their finery to the notes from the musician’s instruments, they mingled with the prism effect of the cascading lighting from the well lit chandeliers.     

The group entered the expansive Dining Hall and across from the entrance was a large open fireplace beckoning their attention. The flames in the hearth had a hypnotic effect as they crackled, leapt and pranced seemingly to dance to an inaudible tune, the alpine aroma of mallee roots and pine cones invaded the room giving an atmosphere of tranquillity and homely bliss. The surroundings appeared mellow, relaxed and one of contentment but these people were neither relaxed nor content. The glow of the fire was to ignite a fuse and combust the static electricity that effervesced in this house tonight and once the fire was ignited it would not be quenched. The spirit of Deception was about to be let loose.

The members were now seated comfortably in the Doc’s therapeutic chairs in front of the energetic and warming fire in the Dining Hall. Each chair at a flick of a lever would gently relax any stressed muscles that had accumulated throughout a day’s work but everyone in this room required much more than what these luxury chairs could offer, they sat staring from one to another in an attempt to use telepathy to probe the minds of those who were involved seeking answers to their own questions. Questions were like cancers and like a cancer the unanswered questions grew in their imagination.

Remembering their ex-lovers the tension increased and with the mental torture that plagued their guilt ridden consciences, they harboured weaknesses that they had found in their own character. Deep down their own guilt and the hideous felony, which had to remain a secret, was to add even more tension to the already explosive atmosphere.    

Suspicion was the tool used to divide the platoon of paedophiles and like any army that is divided against it self, it was engaged and ready to do a battle within its own ranks. As the meeting progressed Lola was the first to voice her suspicions and with her tongue of venom spat out allegations and implications that suggested someone had assisted in David’s suicide. She was sure that was it, as her eyes darted from one to another in a vain attempt to flush out the culprit. The fuse was lit and the vicious retorts from other members were volleyed back and forth until they banded together and verbally savaged Lola’s outburst. Lola defended herself and whimpered an excuse of Police thoroughness in the matter but she was not satisfied and went on to direct her venomous mouth towards the Doc, questioning his integrity and indeed his capability as a medical man. No one wanted to accept neither the blame nor the responsibility for what they had done as a group, all were eager to pass it onto another. The sole responsibility became like a hot potato that could no one could hold and as it was continually passed within the circle, it would keep going round and round unless it were to break, and if it were to break what would be the consequences? Where in fact would it break? Each member loathed another as they saw their own inner self reflected in someone else, revealing a truth about them. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow to any of them yet as alien as it was, it had to be digested. Not any one member alone had made the sole decision to dispose of the children but as they had all contrived in that decision, they were all were to blame.    

All of the members were armed with the invisible weapons of suspicion that was supported by Anger, Rage and Guilt, and these were the puppets of the ‘Strongman’ and his name was Murder! A sea of iniquity surrounded the group of co-conspirators and they were wearily treading water searching for a way out. Their prospects appeared dim and their ‘Cause’ was rapidly losing its zeal as they came to realise their fight now seemed obscure and nonsensical. Was it truly worth it? This question had risen more than once in everyone’s mind since the decision had been made to eliminate the children.  

The hostilities electrified the air and were only quenched by the Judge when he interrupted the proceedings. The Judge realized the futility of their verbal bickering and their mental questionings as well as the resultant suspicions from everyone in the room, including himself. He managed to pull himself together with commanding personality and his authority he began to regain control of the meeting. It was crucial that this circle of conspirators stayed in tune and linked together, there was to be no weak links in this chain and they were to make themselves available in assisting and supporting one another. They were told to remember that this was all for the ‘Cause’ and the ‘Cause’ must not be blemished by its ill-fated beginnings, but they were to carry on and give life to their right to express themselves in society as normal, honest everyday citizens. Their right as a human beings was the real issue which the ‘Cause’ would rectify so they could live their lives freely and to be open about their sexuality. ‘Gay Rights’ was already widely accepted and so was ‘Abortion’, and as for ‘Euthanasia’ many secretly accepted it. There is a minority of ‘do-gooders’ who would continue to fight any issue well after it was accepted by the majority, but remember it is only a small step before the legalising of a consenting relationship between adults and children.      

The members were running out of time so the wheels of this well-oiled machine had to be set in motion. The ‘Cause’ was once again being resuscitated into life even though in this game of chess the pawns had been sacrificed. This was a harsh reality but it would give credence to the ‘Cause’ besides certain actions had to be taken and if more sacrifices were required to gain victory, then so be it. The ‘Cause’ was now back in control and like chess pieces they were ready to be manipulated and strategically manoeuvred to any vantage point to infiltrate the enemy lines. Their enemy was the moral fibre of society who with one hand does not accept the ‘Cause’ yet will willingly sanction Gay Rights, Abortion and Euthanasia. The ‘Cause’ had a right to life ideology that would push the lines that were drawn by their enemy back into the days of Sodom and Gomorrah.     

The Judge advised the need for their inner courage as it was vital for the success of the ‘Cause’ but he warned of the rocky road that lay ahead and reassured their discouraged souls that it was all for the betterment of mankind. As he spoke he ministered also to himself, as his own soul needed encouragement and the medicine to justify his and their bloodstained hands. The Judge paused a moment to pour himself another drink in the hope of quenching his moralistic conscience that rebelled against cold blooded murder, but he knew this medicine was habit forming even if it did soothe the pain temporarily.       

As the Judge’s words of encouragement ended he went on to the subject that had originally brought them here. The ‘Cause’ demanded their immediate attention, plans had to be made, venues to be selected and rallying with the public support groups had yet to be arranged. Von-Mueller was to negotiate with various sporting identities to organise an Australian wide television coverage that was to be linked with other sympathetic action groups. He was also to arrange assistance from well-pocketed Politicians who had no loyalties with any of the outdated moral ethics that were prevalent in party politics. These disloyal politicians were renown trouble-shooters with a reputation of stirring up a hornet’s nest, conveniently and successfully they would be used to bring the ‘Cause’ into the limelight. These trouble-shooters would be in the frontline of fire and accepted whatever came their way from the public, they were used to the war-fare and mud-slinging attacks that was the nature of the beast and the name of the game in the political arenas. These men and women were immoral and well-seasoned battle hardened gladiators and coupled with the promise of financial rewards they would sway their moralistic values even further.

 These were to be the forerunners that would take the flack that was guaranteed to come from the ‘do-gooder’ organizations of churches, welfare groups as well as the mainstream unsuspecting gullible public. The Australian public were already nullified into a ‘state of mourning’ as over the last few decades they had been subjected to a barrage of changes that it had never really wanted. Since the sixties when the country was dragged into a war that nobody wanted nor knew anything about, rapid changes of Government brought in new laws, new tax systems, new currencies, and a new flag. Australia as a nation had become stunned by the rise in murder, rape, and an outstanding growth in the use of prohibited drugs. Prostitution had been made legal, talk of homosexuals and lesbian marriages with the availability of adopting children, Police corruption, royal commissions, fraud, youth unemployment and organised crime was an everyday occurrence. An ‘Australian Card’ was axed as the people united together and fought the Government on a referendum only to lose in the end when the ‘Politicians’ banded together to introduce a tax file numbering system coupled together with a photograph of identification on the driver’s license. The country was truly ready for paedophilia!      

The Judge had received the notification that he would indeed be presiding over the pending Court case and in Court he had to appear as deliberating long and hard before he reached his verdict, even though the outcome was a foregone conclusion. He had given a great deal of forethought to his oration in the Courtroom where he would cite in favour of equality and freedom and where couples could interpret their relationship as binding with a view of taking the sacred vow of marriage, irregardless of age or indeed the sex of the parties involved. He would make only one stipulation to his ruling and that was to be to the parties involved; it must be with the full consent of both. Judge Borthwick’s prearranged speech was a masterpiece of words as he had covered every possible area of age and sex, no matter how young or how old the parties involved it was to be viewed as a legal ‘Bill’ to be floored in Parliament.       

The Court would also take into consideration the sworn statements of legal representatives and associated professionals. Doctor Richard Edward Wilkins was in readiness with a team of well-chosen medical staff that would combat the expected barrage of questions that was to come from the Prosecuting Attorney. The Doc had ample assistance from the group’s own Benjamin Strickland who had painstakingly researched the corridors of legality and the volumes of Judicial Law therefore supplying both the Doc and himself with all the information necessary to cover Law, Science, Medicine and Psychology.       

James Marden was also fully prepared with notable Brokers and Business Tycoons who were now indebted to him owing to some business losses incurred by them that Marden had skilfully turned into enormous profits for them. It was time to call in that debt and that debt would have its proceeds feeding the ‘Cause’ throughout its infancy. The ‘Cause’ had begun the travailing of labour pains in readiness to be birthed and this abominable birth that opposed good moral ethics was about to make its evil presence felt.    

Lola Duvwar was again licking her lips like a black panther in anticipation of the kill having had her fix of Cocaine that made her earlier state of remorse dwindle away like a bad memory. The Cocaine was taking its usual desired effect to get her on top again. Lola had a certain number of politicians and influential businessmen under her control and it was the way she liked it, her dominating disposition was revelling in a victory that she could taste although the war was not yet fully fought in the open. The mafia connections were putting the squeeze on other prominent socialites but she knew she was also in bondage to the underground and was in debt to them until she went to the grave. Nevertheless, Lola went with the flow and found that it was useless to resist and besides she secretly enjoyed the thrill and exhilaration of living on the razor’s edge, she loved the power she had over people and her life of living in the fast lane.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

This ‘child’ would not be allowed to live and surely this was a gross miscarriage of justice, a twisted ideal of a Democratic society in a place where freedom of speech and the right to put forth new ideas has to come under some guidelines, there are limits to what society would permit. To legalise paedophilia was the final straw! This society would not be a part of such a horrendous and blatantly offensive proposition and surely Parliament would not entertain this ‘Bill’ and allow it to be passed, even if it were to succeed in the Supreme Court?    

Although seasonally it was the beginning of winter, the atmosphere was warming markedly outside the Supreme Court Building. The media cameras and news reporters had gathered for a scoop on this historical event.

 A couple of months had now elapsed since the Politicians had openly spoken of accepting this ‘Bill’ and it would have died a natural death if it were not for this Court case setting a precedence as a world exclusive. Win or lose this love child of the nineties was about to create history. The territory was unchartered and these modern day adventurers of that unknown land had to be like any other explorers throughout history, brave of heart and focused. This was not a time for the weak or fainthearted.     

Helena and Brett were surrounded by security as they hurriedly clamoured the concrete steps, which led to the huge doors that graced the Supreme Court Building. Amongst the demonstrators that had gathered to hurl abuse were the voices of reporters hurling questions at them with cameras flashing in hope of catching a more revealing photograph that could be to be used as a profile for their respective newspapers. More cameras awaited them inside the foyer of the Supreme Court Building where they flashed repeatedly. Helena and Brett had been advised to wear dark sunglasses and were also shielded in part by their Lawyer, the well-rehearsed Benjamin Strickland.

Strickland held Helena’s arm guiding her to the Courtroom and as they quickly past the press he shouted emphatically “No Comment” to their volley of questions. This was to be his only comment to the Press who were disappointed, as they had hoped for juicier morsels of information that could have come from the lips of the historic couple. The media were like vultures media and were bitter that no snippets of information was to overflow from their victims as their journalistic blood lusts would now have to feed upon the stale news which had already been picked to the bone.    

Substantial monetary offers had been made to Helena and Brett for an exclusive interview and a Cover Story but they declined, every reporter had desired the privilege of a scoop on this monstrous marriage. A leading newspaper had noted, “A book and film were already being discussed with phenomenal prices being mentioned”. Strickland gave strict instructions Helena and Brett to keep quiet and say nothing and they obeyed.     

The Courtroom was packed and was motioned to silence as the Judge made his way into the Courtroom. Borthwick strode majestically towards the Judge’s Bench looking impressive and almost priestly in his stately robes of Office and his glare and stance gave him the air of authority. This was Borthwick’s domain where he was Lord of the Manor and ruled without question. A sweeping glare of all who were present clearly stated that there would be no nonsense within his Courtroom. Regally he seated himself and his faithful servants followed.    

The hustling and bustling of lawyer’s briefs and the clinking of pens were the only sounds to be heard near the Bench whilst a few muffled murmurs could still be heard in the Press Gallery. Even these murmurings had to cease as the Court’s orator officially put forth the ‘Case’ and introduced the Attorney’s of Law and the Judge to those present in the Courtroom. The Attorneys bowed respectfully to the Judge and then gathering their briefs at their respective desks as ‘two knights of old’ would in preparation for battle. Judge Walter Thomas Borthwick reminded all within the Courtroom that there was not to be any outbursts from anyone whilst the hearing was in session. Such an outburst would be held in Contempt of Court and it would incur the appropriate fine and/or jail, which would be enforced stringently.

The Judge noted that he was well aware of the public’s emotion and their differing opinions and also acknowledged the delicate nature of the subject, he also recognised the media involvement in this particular Case but reminded everyone that this was a place of Law and Order and that it was to be respected as such.

Within these four walls Judge Borthwick demanded complete decorum, here he was King and ruled with an iron sceptre.     

The law of the land had been laid down and the King had spoken; now it was to the Knights of the Courtroom to joust.

The Prosecuting Attorney was a formidable opponent, Hubert Lionel Jefferies Q.C the ‘White Knight’ who would fight for the moralistic views of the populous. His credentials were outstanding, as he and his relentless team had placed a considerable percentage of the criminal element behind bars that were now serving very long prison terms. His opposition Benjamin Strickland he knew well, too well, Jefferies had the invisible battle scars to prove it. Benjamin Strickland had more Prosecutor scalps under his belt than anyone he knew. He was the ‘Black Knight’. To speak his name was similar to evil being regurgitated through Jefferies lips as he uttered in a quiet, viperous whisper “Strickland”.

 The battle was about to begin that would unfold the hours of research, countless files, long forgotten Court Cases that had been studied documenting the similarities to this Case. Many files had been exhumed from the deep, dark, morgue-like vaults of the Judicial system and here was where the two Gladiators of Justice had gathered their ammunition in preparation for this day and this fight, a fight that was going to be fought to the bitter end. It was a fight for the salvation or the damnation of children’s innocence everywhere and it was going to be weighed in the Scales of Justice in this very Courtroom.

Little did anyone realise the scales were already weighted in favour of the ‘Black Knight’    

Judge Borthwick sat motionless for the most part of each Counsellor’s spiel listening stony faced as both men did battle with what was right and what was wrong, both putting forward their case as to whether this abominable ‘child’ should live or in fact receive the death penalty. The Judge remained silent as he listened intently to both Counsellors although his decision had been made, the Judge’s expression gave the impression he was unbiased.   

Heated cross-examinations of each and every witness that was brought forth were only equalled by the constant objections being over-ruled or sustained by the Judge. A barrage of questions seemed to flow endlessly that began to show on everyone’s faces especially Helena and Brett who were noticeably drained both mentally and physically. The hearing had now been in progress for some days.

Finally the time had come for Judge Walter Thomas Borthwick to deliver his decision to all parties. Although the news media, the nation and its people seemed to be suspended in time holding their breath awaiting the final answer, the Judge knew how important and crucial it was that he played his part as convincingly as he could. It was vital to the well being of the ‘child’.

Judge Borthwick gave a long speech taking into consideration both Counsellors’ address placed before the Court and stated in his closing remarks that as regrettable as it may seem to some, that everyone in our ‘free’ society had the right to choose what they believed to be love, he concluded by granting for the Defence. With that he said they now had a case to put to Parliament and a right to put a motion forth to change the laws of the land to accommodate this need in today’s modern society.      

The Courtroom doors burst open and a flood of reporters from the press gallery spilled into the street, with Camera’s rolling and others flashing towards the Supreme Court Building in hopes of photographing Helena and Brett. Mobile telephones were a part of every reporter’s ear as they called in to report the momentous decision made by Judge Borthwick. Reporter’s called their Radio Stations so they would be first with the news ‘on air’ which was still hot from the Judge’s lips.

The firebrands ignited the smouldering flames that already existed in lounge rooms across the nation with the news that this ‘child’ would have its chance to live. It’s heart beat was getting stronger and its chances of survival were increasing with every breath it took.

People gossiped over their neighbours fences, travelling by word of mouth from street to street, to Shopping malls, grocery stores, anywhere that people gathered it was the subject on everyone’s lips. This bastard ‘child’ of the nineties, which everyone had thought would have had no possible chance of survival, was now a living and breathing organism that was crying out for public sympathy and was being drip-fed by various support groups. The ‘child’ had all the needs of a newborn and slowly its cry became louder and louder, demanding more attention and those who favoured the decision of the Judge came forth to offer their services and praise to this ‘child’ from hell.      

The talk on the streets and in the homes agreed the ‘child’ should be killed, yet the general consensus overall was one of apathy with the attitude of ‘she’ll be right mate’, or ‘it’ll never happen’, apathy was taking precedence instead of action. Australian society grew up living off the fat of the land and its people were basically down to earth good people who had hard-working moral values who believed in a good day’s work for a good day’s pay. How could an abomination such as this happen in the ‘Lucky Country’? Could this be somebody’s idea of a bad joke? This had to be a ‘fanatics’ pipe dream and sooner or later would simply go away or drown in a sea of forgetfulness. There must be someone in Politics who would scrap this ‘bastard child’?      

To neglect a human child would have them thin and undernourished but this ‘child’ would thrive and fatten through neglect, once the initial shock and horror of public opinion had subsided. What a scandalous idea! The public consoled and reassured itself with ‘It simply could not happen, not here in the Lucky country!’ This attack on the moral fibre of society had some scoffing and laughing with the feeling that it would never stand the test of time. Where it was considered fashionable that the Gay Mardi Gras attracted more attention than the A.N.Z.A.C. Day March, where one million people would flock to watch the perverseness flaunted in spectacular fashion by gay activists, yet only a meagre few thousand would band together to view Australia’s fighting soldiers. To the ‘Returned Soldiers’ whose motto was ‘lest we forget’ this was a poor tribute. Perhaps this was a small flaw in an otherwise perfect society but this ‘child’ was almost laughable. What made anyone think that “Legalised Paedophilia’ could be adapted in today’s society? Yet through neglect it would survive and it would flourish.      

Helena and Brett went into seclusion with this ‘child’ and spent time in isolation away from news media and all form of prying eyes. They were to relax and mentally prepare themselves for the arduous and gruelling task set before them, to be ready and poised in a position like a cobra that was about to strike and inject its poisonous venom into society. They knew the importance of this mission and it was to preserve the life of this ‘child’.

Helena would give her life and indeed had owed her life to the conception of this ‘child’ and its birthing. Brett would do likewise because of his love for the woman he adored. Brett’s young and rebellious mind would not have it any other way, this was the lady he loved and would wed.      

Lola Duvwar made a telephone call and her conversation was interrupted by the sound of another incoming call, placing her first caller on hold she spoke to Judge Borthwick who had telephoned to inquire of Helena and Brett. Lola reassured him that they were now out of harms way in a place out in the country, a Real Estate friend had offered a farmhouse that would suffice as a hideout until they were needed further. The Judge was happy with this arrangement and hung up. Lola then switched over to her earlier call, to that of Bentennelli.    

Lola the ‘Judas’, high priestess of sin and debauchery was trying to cut a deal with the devil himself as she knew she had ‘sold out’ the Club and had effectively handed the reins over to Bentennelli and his mafia but now had the audacity to ask for more. Bentennelli was amused and let this Cocaine addicted, black alley cat have her say then he let her know who was really the boss! Lola was belittled by Bentennelli and then shocked when he revealed his intentions. Bentennelli stated that it had been his intention all along to take over and to use her Brothels as a market place for young flesh where they could be bought and sold. Adelaide was going to be the child porn capital of Australia and it would be from this city the overseas slave traders would come to sample the wares of the southern hemisphere. Antonio Bentennelli added that she should consider herself lucky to still be in business at all but reassured her by stating that as long as she played the game to his liking everything would be fine! 

Somehow that statement contradicted itself because the last thing she felt was reassurance. Bentennelli put forth his request yet it was not a request but more of a demand and that was no less than blatant blackmail, it was too late now for her to get out. The demand was direct and to the point, the Organization to which he was involved was expanding and desired to start his child pornography business chain in the ‘City of Churches’. He put it to Lola that there was a demand and like any business venture there had to be a supplier and he of course was going to be that supplier, she would of course would reap some of these benefits from his Organization if she stuck to the rules, his rules. From now on her and her businesses would be answerable to him and his Organization. Lola had no choice but to yield to his demands, then the telephone went silent he had hung up. Duvwar went icy cold when suddenly the realisation seized her; she was now owned and controlled by the mob!      

How could she have been so stupid and so blinded by the easy way out? All it took was the one telephone call and her dream had collapsed around her, too late to see the writing on the wall that she had been manipulated. The very things that she had been avoiding for so long: the racketeering, her Brothel businesses being mob controlled, was all to no avail.

Like Judas who had sold out Jesus the Christ for a handful of silver had now had done the same thing to the ‘Club”, both had been fooled by the same demon, ‘Greed’.

Whatever possessed her to think she could ever outsmart or use the mob or even to consider having any form of an allegiance without repercussions, especially when using the type of contacts of this calibre? The only one that was being used here was she. What a perfect trap! All the while the mob was waiting and biding its time knowing that sooner or later they would have her relying on them. They did it without directly using any extortion or undue violence towards her, although she knew they could well have used violent measures but this was subtler and more successful. Lola the conniving vixen had certainly taken the bait and fallen into check, just when she thought she was the chess player she bitterly realised she was only a chess piece.  

 Lola Duvwar sat dejectedly in her plush scarlet coloured work office and laid out two lines of Cocaine and snorted them using a one hundred dollar note to scoop the powder through each nostril. Shaking her head as the miracle white electrified her senses she waited for the impact to have its full and desired effect. Lola decided that this woman’s scorn was going to be vengeful and furious as this lust filled Black Panther was going out on the prowl.      

Lola grabbed a bottle of Vodka and drank her fill then went on a rampage from Hotel to Hotel, picking up many virile underage prey and lured each one into her room where she methodically ravage their tender young innocence, sacrificing their boyhood upon her lust filled altars.     

Lola had taken her fill of many young lovers that night and by morning was lying naked alone in a large bed feeling absolutely miserable, hung over and strung out from the over indulgence of Cocaine and alcohol. The memories or at least hazy ones of the evening’s frolics came back to haunt her as a mental blur, somewhere in the recesses of her mind there was a recollection of confiding in one of the many lovers of the night. This vague and blurry thought was in her mind as her eyes flickered to consciousness and attempted to revive some life back into the now aging and deteriorating body. Lola felt as defiled as a bag of dog’s vomit, it would aptly suit how she felt at that moment she thought. She sat up quickly and nearly passed out and slumped back into her awaiting pillow. Lying upon the pillow her mind reflected to the bottle or two of vodka that would have aided her in confiding to a stranger. She must have poured out her soul along with the drink but how much had she poured out she could not remember but secretly hoped and prayed that her ramblings would have been seen as that, ramblings of a middle aged, frustrated and intoxicated woman.     

By mid afternoon and several pots of coffee later, Lola was on the telephone organizing new business dealings on behalf of her new bosses, she loathed the new turn of events and pondered a way out of this mess. The calls that were made for her new bosses which included several Real Estate Agents, which provided the information on the availability of small business premises that, were for lease, ones that would be suitable for her needs. Lola had several telephone numbers of undesirable characters who were classed as low-life even to the dark and dangerous underworld and these supposedly portrayed legitimate honest businessmen who served the unsuspecting public with a range of decoy wares and goods. Unknowingly the premises hid the real business of child pornography at the rear of the building.

A multi-million dollar business was booming and had melted into today’s unsuspecting public. Lola found it hard to come to terms with the sick degenerates of today’s society as they fed this billion-dollar baby, even as street hardened, as she was not much disturbed Lola but child pornography being such an extensive business was beyond her comprehension. She knew there was money to be made but had always steered clear of this area until now. In some way it was bringing her own personal love life onto the big screen and as she shuddered at the thought she continued with the telephone calls.     

Very late that afternoon after the secretary had left for home and with the incoming calls being diverted to her office, the telephone rang. Picking up the receiver she heard the voice of a heavy accented Scotsman. He introduced himself as Rory McLaughlan who worked for an organization that was called “Runaway Action Group” or R.A.G. as it had come to be known. Duvwar was immediately on the alert and politely conceded that she knew very little about his group, stalling for time as the beads of perspiration glistened on her brow. She knew full well where this conversation was going to lead and needed some breathing room as she gave him some vague answers but knowing the inevitable would come as the tenacious Scotsman went in for the kill.

Rory questioned her in relation to a young man whose body had been found in a dam north of Adelaide some month’s prior. Lola was silent as the Scottish terrier prodded and probed sounding though he knew more than what he was revealing. He did and as he continued, he related to Lola the conversation that had taken place between himself and a young man who had been in his care as a runaway. The boy had given Rory a detailed account of a lust-filled encounter with a lady of the night and as the boy had described one of Lola’s Brothel establishments, Rory was inquiring if he and Lola could meet to dispel or confirm to whether any such encounter had taken place with any of her staff. Rory finished the conversation by revealing the fact that this one nightstand may somehow be connected to the mysterious death of another young boy. Lola quickly intervened and suggested that she knew all her staff very well and could vouch for each and every one of them implicitly. 

Lola’s throat constricted as she knew this information could only have come from one of the many boys that she had been with the previous night, ‘What a fool I’ve been’ she thought and now she needed to know how much this Scotsman really knew and just how much was based on conjecture. She had to meet him and rely on her manipulative powers to persuade this Rory McLaughlan to relinquish this frame of reasoning. Lola had to portray herself and her working girls as being completely ‘above board’.

Duvwar knew if she was careless she would find herself cornered but she had to deal with this problem so agreed to a meeting but she took control as voicing her opinion with authority accustomed her. Lola explained she was a busy woman and had no time for games and wished that their meeting would be brief and to the point, feeling in control again it gave her time to move and to think. She chose the time and the place and when he agreed, she rudely hung up.     

Rory McLaughlan was punctual and precisely at nine o’clock he arrived at the home of Lola Duvwar. The light’s were on within the house and music was playing and drifting through the half opened doorway with every haunting note from a ‘Blues’ album filtering through the atmosphere of Lola’s lavishly designed terraced home. Rory knocked before moving slowly through the doorway calling her name. There was no answer and Rory’s hairs on the back of his neck rose as if in salute to an unseen force, he called again and received no response. He moved about the house cautiously not knowing if there was any danger lying in wait for him but something within him told him to be on guard and he was. His eyes scanned the house to get a character analysis on Lola and saw the Art that adorned the walls, the decor within spoke silently of money but also of energy and creativeness of the occupant. There was something else that lay behind all of the furnishings, it was of a huntress of wild imaginings as he had the overwhelming impression that he had just walked into a den of a lioness with her cubs nearby in hiding and at any moment she would leap upon him in protection of her young. This thought had the effect of raising the hairs on his neck even higher.

 Rory’s heart was pounding louder and welling up into his throat as he let out an utterance that sounded to his ears, like a strained call to Lola. He checked himself and found his palms were wet with perspiration and so was his brow. There was still no reply to his call so Rory stopped to listen and heard a familiar sound; it was the sound of trickling water coming from somewhere further on. Slowly he headed towards the source, which lead him along an ill lit passageway to what he presumed to be the bathroom. As Rory cautiously moved closer to the bathroom door the sound of trickling water became amplified. Rory was now feeling uncomfortable knowing Lola was about to be caught having a bath, she had undoubtedly lost track of the time. He reluctantly knocked on the bathroom door and waited for an angry Lola to come flying out in a fit of rage that she had been caught, with this thought uppermost in his mind his heart raced even more as he waited for an answer to his call, but none came. Slowly he turned the knob and pushed the door open slightly calling Lola’s name again, he opened the door very slowly till his eyes beheld a sight that was to put a ghostly look of terror on his face.     

The person of whom he sought lay naked in the bath with her head under the water with her eyes wide open and staring blankly at the ceiling. Lola the huntress lie motionless in her sea of iniquity as the bath’s tap trickled tirelessly into the already overflowing bath. Her problems of this world were at an end, she no longer needed to be concerned about the mafia and murder, and her Cocaine habit, the torment of her mind had been released. Her face showed an agony of the way in which she had died or perhaps, it was the look of the life she had now entered? For her this earthly life had ended. Hell had taken claim to their child of Satan.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

Rory’s coffee mug left wet circles at the top of page three of the newspaper that he was intently reading between slurps of his coffee. The article heading that captivated his interest read, ‘Madam Overdoses After Binge”

Unflattering would best describe the article that served as Lola’s formal obituary. Rory was deep in thought and pondering if a connection between David’s apparent suicide and Lola’s unfortunate overdose was possible when the telephone rang. The voice of the caller was a professional associate of Rory’s who had respect for Rory and his work. The caller was from the Coroner’s office where his main duties were connected to the city’s morgue. These two men had met on many occasions having a common link with the parents of runaways who had found their missing children, albeit too late! Suicide or their misjudgement on the dosage of a lethal drug had claimed many a young soul. A strange bonding had formed between Rory and the Coroner who worked with the dead!

The information the Coroner would give Rory was to be held in the strictest confidence but thought Rory might be more than a little interested in what he had discovered. Apparently Lola had the normal amount of Cocaine in her system, which was consistent with a regular user, but what had killed her was the significantly high dosage of almost pure Heroine! Rory thanked him for the information and hung up. He sat puzzled as he stared at the article in the paper and desperately searched the printed contents for inspiration.      

In an elite outer suburb of Adelaide at Herman Von- Mueller’s home were five sets of eyes reading the very same article; Von-Mueller, Judge Borthwick, James Marden, Doc Wilkins and Strickland. Von-Mueller paced up and down the patio area near his pool contemplating the article and voicing his thoughts aloud. Watching from a distance were his ever present and faithful Doberman Pinscher guard dogs, always on the alert to the sound of their master’s voice, sitting silently in readiness awaiting his command with their ears pricked and ready, their jet black eyes darted back and forth as Herman paced worriedly. Herman’s voice was unusually shaky and uncertain as he spoke of Lola’s demise. Was it purely an overdose as the newspaper’s proposed? Did Lola start to feel the pressure too much and opted for the easy way out? Could it have been a stronger batch of Cocaine than normal or was it foul play? And that suggestion left a bitter taste in all of their mouths.    

It was the topic of foul play that was in discussion when Von-Mueller’s mobile telephone rang. Not wanting to be disturbed he angrily answered the caller but soon went stony-faced and pale as the colour drained from his face. The voice on the line could only be described as one associated with death, it was Antonio Bentennelli. Herman was normally a boisterous person and at times of pressure could be extremely self-controlled and self-confident but was visibly humbled by Bentennelli. Bentennelli was not a man who would waste words on idle talk and came to the point; he stated his business connections with a certain person who they all knew as ‘Raven’. Antonio Bentennelli had no problem with his reliable contacts in gaining Von-Mueller’s address and telephone number plus the common link with all that were now at his poolside party. Von-Mueller was stunned Bentennelli knew about his pool but he would put nothing past this man to have his house or anyone else under surveillance. Bentennelli went on to say that he had not read the day’s newspaper due to his preferred isolation but through his network of contacts was very well informed and with this he offered his condolences.

His brief sympathy message now over he went on to explain the nature of his call, he had made a business arrangement with Lola Duvwar before her untimely death where it was agreed that he was to have a larger control of their little ‘Club’ for the purpose of better profits. He announced it would be advisable to continue on the same proposed plans of the ‘Cause’ and not to hinder its survival in anyway. Bentennelli also remarked that their little ‘Club’ could benefit from his support and the support of his Organization. Von-Mueller sensed where this conversation was leading and it clearly spelt: Blackmail. Bentennelli continued and promised secrecy where recent events would be ‘hushed up’ in exchange for their continual allegiance to the ‘Cause” and the birthing of Antonio Bentennelli’s bastard child! Bentennelli stated that they would be informed of what was to be expected of them in the future and bid Herman and his party a good day and hung up. Herman Von-Mueller was trembling as he sat down on a poolside chair to relay Bentennelli’s entire message to the ‘Club’ members. They realised they were no longer a ‘secret club’ and felt exposed and naked with their ‘child of love’ now at the mercy of the mob. Without consent their ‘love child’ had been taken and fostered to another: Antonio Bentennell.      

James Marden and the Judge were the first to move simultaneously towards Von-Mueller’s well stocked bar where they shakily poured themselves a painkiller, in an vain attempt to ease the tension that knotted itself in the pit of their stomach. The others remained seated and noted that both the Judge and Marden had been relying on this magical elixir to cure all problems, prescribed as a dose that was measured into a glass and swallowed with intent then all the prevailing ill winds would simply disappear. They were wallowing in self-pity and warranted no comment to the Judge or Marden being too busy indulging in plans of how to save their own hides should things get any more uncomfortable but for the moment they were safe. They had the protection and the backing from the ‘big boys’ but they also realised that they had entered an area that was to play with entirely different and dangerous ground rules. They had become the new kids in the block and would have to bow down in reverence to their new master.     

The atmosphere that surrounded the impromptu poolside meeting was one of worry, despair and grief, a grief that stemmed more from their own predicament rather than that of Lola’s death. They considered Lola to be somewhat lucky because for her it was finished but for those that remain it would be a life lived in constant fear of the unknown. Each of them had dark clouds of depression looming before them seeing a life without hope, their future looked decidedly bleak but they had to go on and see this to the end for the gratification of their own lust filled desires. Although their needs were great and uncompromising they realised they were not the masters of their sin filled nature but its slave and the ‘love child’ that had been so carefully nurtured for so long had grown and was out of control. Its new foster parents, the mafia had forcibly procured the right of divorcement and now that this child was divorced from its natural parents it had become Bentennelli’s adopted child. This new parent permitted its child to run amok in society where it was to be answerable only to the mob.    

Realising that Helena and Brett needed to know what had transpired that afternoon, Von-Mueller telephoned and told them of Lola’s death and explained the new twist in the club’s membership. While Von-Mueller was talking to Helena the same spirits of worry, grief and despair left Von-Mueller’s home and travelled to Helena and Brett where they too were to mentally paint a picture of hopelessness.      

Helena hung up the telephone in shock and disbelief, seated on an old fashioned lounge which graced the dining area of the farm house where they had taken refuge from the media’s prying eyes, Helena began to weep bitterly and Brett did what he could to comfort her but the death of Lola and now Bentennelli’s control of the ‘Club’ had taken its toll. They remained seated on the lounge bereft of hope until the morning rays began to filter through the drawn curtains to awaken them from an exhaustive sleep. In the twilight of sleep a distant sound of ringing could be heard that wasn’t coming from the telephone but the front door bell.      

Helena arose and staggered towards the door and opening it marginally to see who would be calling at a remote farmhouse this early in the morning. It was all that was needed as the door burst open and Reporters with cameras flooded into the room. Helena and Brett tried to shield themselves from the onslaught of cameras flashing and a barrage of questions coming thick and fast as they hurriedly grabbed a few belongings and ran towards the rear of the house and to the stairs that led outside. Running as quickly as they could they reached Helena’s red Porsche which they thought had been well hidden from view but even there the Reporters were waiting for them as they were both bumped and jostled in the attempt for the Reporters to get an exclusive on the couple. They managed to get into the car and lock the doors before starting it to head towards the gateway and freedom, if the media did not move fast enough to avoid her car she didn’t care and sped off into the distance. Helena was sure the Real Estate Agent who was involved with the lease on the farmhouse had betrayed her and no doubt he would have received a tidy sum for doing it, she thought. Now they had both become fugitives on the run.    

Helena and Brett were desperate and confused as they travelled aimlessly for half of the day through the hills surrounding Adelaide, on the run, ducking and weaving the long arm of moral justice. They had stopping to refuel at one location and a mechanic came to attend the bowsers, he looked at Helena and Brett as he tried to recollect where he had seen them before. Leaving the pump running he went into the cafe and asked the takeaway cook if she had seen them before, she had. The cook was the type who could be well informed on all the gossip providing it was hot and juicy and satisfied her murmuring tongue. Outside on the forecourt the fuel had stopped pumping and the mechanic returned to remove the hose, Helena offered the money owing for the fuel and a large greasy hand snatched the bills from her tiny delicate hand. The only change Helena was to receive from this mechanic was a fluent usage of adjectives and expletives that was unheard of by the average tourist. The verbal onslaught continued as Helena got back into her car and with reddened faces they left hurriedly with the spinning of wheels leaving a black strip on his forecourt. Helena looked back in the rear vision mirror and saw the mechanic shaking his fist with rage as if beating the air.  

In the beginning it had seemed so right but now she felt bewildered and questioned her motives, was it right or was it wrong? Helena’s heart told her that they all had the right to life for their adoptive ‘child’ which they loved dearly yet they lived in a questioning society who would love to crucify their ‘Cause’ without trying to understand their needs, their wants, their desires and indeed their love. Who and what was society to tell them what form of love was permissible and what was not? How could anyone stereotype love? Jumbled thoughts raced around inside her head and they were repeated over and over as she drove with Brett sitting beside her. Anger, depression, even rejection had made her feel confused but now there was an additional pressure of the mafia and Bentennelli. Their beautiful love child had now become diseased and would be sold cheaply in whorehouses and through pornography in backyard venues of Australia. Many opposing thoughts came to mind, were they wrong in what they were doing? But they both knew it was beyond the point of turning back.    

The silence between Helena and Brett was bountiful in her red Porsche as they made their way through the back roads of the Adelaide hills, deciding to head toward the Doc’s Estate. Along the way they stopped momentarily to purchase hair dyes for each of them to aid in changing their appearance and hopefully to divert any unwarranted attention. They continued their journey towards the Estate the deafening silence remained, self pity was reflected in the shallowness of their own souls. The car radio’s music was the only sound to be heard within as the car wound it’s through the back roads of the Adelaide hills. Suddenly the music was interrupted with a news flash, a Miss Ludlam had come forward to assist Police in their investigations, pertaining to the suicide of a young boy found in a dam north of Adelaide and that there could be possible connection with the recent death of a brothel Madam that died from an overdose. The connection was sketchy at present but further ‘up dates’ would be made as they became available. The music began to replay where it had been interrupted but to Helena and Brett they did not notice, they looked at one another in shock.    

Rory was busily working on some urgent files on runaways in his office when he heard the News Flash his suspicions were being substantiated and the pieces of this jigsaw puzzle began to slowly come together. Could this Miss Ludlam possibly be the missing piece he was looking for and that she could finally complete the picture?     

Some of the members had gathered at Herman Von-Mueller’s home and with the News Flash they recognised the danger, alarm bells sounded as panic engulfed them all. As the day was drawing to a close they agreed to return to their own homes for the night. Tomorrow they would go to their place of work as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened but if the Police came to question any of them, only then would they take the appropriate legal action but until then they were warned to do nothing.        

Early the next morning Miss Ludlam sat dutifully at a kitchen table in the small one bed roomed flat where she was under Police protection and where two senior Detectives from the major crime squad were also interviewing her. The two senior Officers apologised for the indiscretion regarding the press and the subsequent News Flash but convinced her that she was in safe hands as they had surrounded the flat with uniformed Police who were on duty twenty four hours a day. As the information could be vital in a murder trial she took the advice of these Officers and accepted their protection. Miss Ludlam was bewildered by the whole situation but continued with her verbal statement and by her own admission, she thought it was her civil duty to come forth and volunteer what little information she had. The Police had kept the interrogation relaxed because the age of Miss Ludlam and in this atmosphere she was willing to help them with their inquiries.       

As the gentle interrogation continued the two Detectives became more intrigued and were convinced that foul play was involved, especially when Miss Ludlam made mention of a certain notebook where she had recorded all of the minutes of the meetings pertaining to the ‘Club’ and the ‘Cause’. Miss Ludlam admitted she was a secretary to the ‘Club’ but denied that anything illegal had taken place in her presence, she agreed that what they did was morally wrong but vehemently denied any illegal activities. Doctor Wilkins had emphasized this fact many times to her and she believed what went on between these people was quite normal. Miss Ludlam was adamant, the Doctor stated what she believed to be the truth but as far as this suicide/murder business was concerned that was something totally different. Miss Ludlam seemed to go on a doddering expedition of her own mind as if senility was already taking up residence until she mentioned her notebook and that intrigued the Police Officers.   

The questioning of Miss Ludlam had ceased for the moment and it was agreed to break for a while and arrange a cup of tea for her. As one of the Detectives rose from the kitchen table to make the tea a projectile shattered through the window and connected with its target, Miss Ludlam’s forehead. A bullet from a 303 rifle had entered her skull and exited through the rear and her brain mingled with blood had splattered the wall directly behind her. Her aged body and the chair on which she was sitting fell violently backward with the impact and she slumped lifeless to the floor.   

There was a momentary hesitation as the Detectives were a gasp at what had happened, and then their years of rigorous training came into action. They hit the floor while reaching for their firearms then quickly moved into position under an adjacent window to cautiously peer outside. The uniform Police burst through the door and the Detectives turned their guns toward them in preparation for an ambush and visibly relaxed when they saw their own men. Everyone looked towards the area from where they believed shot was fired but there was nothing.    

Even though the Police had acted quickly and called for back up to seal the area a search revealed no evidence. No shell, no witnesses, nothing. Only one thing was found lying on the ground where they believed the gunman had fired his shot was an insignificant single crow’s feather. This was obviously a well-planned hit because it was as though the assassin had not existed and the lack of evidence. The clean single shot had hit its target while she was in Police custody making the execution daring and bold, they concluded that this assassin was a professional and for it he or she had to be well financed. Why would anyone want to murder somebody like Miss Ludlam! A secretary and virtual nobody, or was she?     

Upon arrival at Miss Ludlam’s home the two Detectives let themselves in using the techniques of a burglar a rather unfashionable method but it saved them the time of getting search warrants. They could not wait as the two burly Detectives took the onus upon themselves to search for this notebook and come hell or high water they were determined to find it. After an intense search that almost demolished the spinster’s quaint nest success came with the lost treasure being found hidden in a wall safe behind a work of art that adorned a wall of her lounge room. The notebook in their possession the Detectives decided to give some of the Club’s members an unannounced visit to find a weak link in this mysterious chain of events. Doc Wilkins was chosen as the first to be tested.      

Doc Wilkins was found at his surgery with his usual clientele of hypochondriacs that were waiting patiently in an outer room where piped music played relaxing tunes, supposedly to soothe the patients while they waited for their appointed time to be prodded and poked by the Doc’s cold and sterilized tools of trade. The undaunted Detectives flashed their identification at a mesmerized receptionist who nodded towards the Doc’s office. They had telephoned ahead of their intention to see the Doc regarding a few matters so they could be assured of no one being in consultation with the Doctor at that time.       

The Doc was made aware through a News Flash on the radio that Miss Ludlam had volunteered to assist Police in their inquiries but was in a state of shock as the Detectives revealed her cold blooded murder.

Doctor Wilkins went a deathly white and as his legs gave way he collapsed in his well-padded velour chair. The Doc remembered all the years of faithful service that Miss Ludlam had painstakingly and unselfishly performed where she rarely ever complained about the hours she had to work as his private secretary. Mentally picturing her in her usual prim and proper fashion and methodically taking notes while she tirelessly put his business life in order, she was a valued asset to his thriving and well ordered practice, an irreplaceable asset. Now suddenly without warning and in a brutal fashion she was gone. Who would do such a thing? The Doc cried out from the very depths of his heart as his head slumped into his hands and the tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. He sobbed bitterly for some time before gathering himself and calling through the intercom to the receptionist to cancel all his appointments for the day, telling her that she was to acknowledge all calls and apologise for the change in appointments but any other calls were to be relayed directly to the hospital, he stated firmly that under no circumstances was he to have any interruptions for the rest of the day.     

The Detectives warned the Doctor of his rights and of legal council should he so chose but the Doc had decided to co-operate with them unless he deemed it necessary to ask for legal representation.

The Detectives knew that the evidence they had was purely circumstantial and conjecture so they opted to interview the Doc in the comfort of his office. The questions were brief and straight to the point and the Doc’s answers were also direct and without hesitancy. They asked the Doc about Miss Ludlam’s notebook that she had spoken about being in her possession before she was murdered. The Doc was taken aback as he presumed that they had this book, assuming that it was the reason for the interview it was then he began to wonder whether they knew as much as he thought. They asked him if there was any relationship between Lola Duvwar or the young boy named David whose body was found in a dam north of Adelaide? At this point the Doc decided that perhaps enough questions were being answered without his legal representative being present and tactfully excused himself from any further questioning at this time. The seasoned Detectives asked a few more trivial questions before informing him that they would be in contact and that perhaps he should seek legal advice after all but for now the interview had ended.     

After the two Detectives departed the Doc phoned the Judge and told him all that had happened, the Judge was astounded by the news and sat back heavily in his leather bound chair with a look of total despair. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought it would come to this as he hung up. Walter Thomas Borthwick with no fancy title, no royal robes, no wig for a judgemental crown of glory sat in his private chambers alone. No friend to turn to and nowhere to hide where everything he had believed in all of his life accounted for nought; he put his face in his hands and wept bitterly.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

The man refused to give Rory his name when asked so all Rory could do was to listen what he had to say. The caller’s voice revealed he was in a high state of nervousness yet so far he had not said anything that had made any sense. Rory tried to calm him so he could understand what this man was trying to say and finally he succeeded. The man knew of Rory’s interest in a particular area and wanted a meeting with him in private, there was some information he could supply that would help him regarding the death of Lola Duvwar and of the young boy. Although Rory sensed this informer was a novice the caller went on to make it very clear that Rory had to be alone and there were to be no Police involved, should he fail to adhere to his demands he would guarantee that he would not be there waiting. Shakily the voice gave a few instructions on where and when they should meet and before Rory could confirm the meetings venue and time, the caller had hung up.   

It was 12:50am when Rory McLaughlan drove his Holden Commodore into the Port Adelaide docks where he was to meet his mystery caller. Their rendezvous was to be at the far end of the seventeenth pier near the large grain carriers that came into load their bulk cargo in readiness for destinations worldwide.

The night was still, cold and dark as Rory cautiously ambled his way along the thoroughfare. During the summer months many an amateur fishermen sat here with rigs in hand staring into the water as if willing the fish to bite their lines but tonight it was deserted and gave place to a certain indescribable eeriness. Rory silently walked on.

Step by step took Rory towards the end of a seemingly never ending pier and his ever cautious senses were on a razor’s edge, exactly as they had been at Lola Duvwar’s house. The motion of the gentle tidal waves lapping against the pillars of the old pier produced creaks and groans that served only to reinforce and magnify Rory’s senses as he continued to walk under the dim lighting of the poorly lit pier. The moon appeared spasmodically through the blanket of clouds and gave imaginary shapes to the surrounding darkness, and with his over active mind his heart rate increased as though he had completed a one hundred metres dash in record time. He tried hard to convince himself that it was foolish to envisage things that were simply not there and they were really only a trick of light and shadows. Convincing his inner self was not as successful as a gut feeling told him that something was amiss.

Rory slowly began to take charge of his emotions when they again surfaced with a new rush of adrenalin. Coming nearer to the end of the seventeenth pier his eyes widened as he noticed in the darkened and silhouetted shapes, a semi-lit black void where there should have been a safety railing. Rory cautiously walked closer, he needed to be certain and saw that he was indeed correct, the wooden safety railings had been splintered outward giving the impression that something had gone crashing through and had come to a halt in the murky depths below.        

Something had crashed through the wooden rails at the end of the seventeenth pier when Police Diver’s signalled for the dock’s Crane Operator to hoist what they had now secured. As the morning’s rays enveloped the sky the Crane Operator could see the Dogman signalling instructions to him more clearly and within minutes a Ferrari with its occupant still at the wheel surfaced. The Detectives telephoned Head Office and requested a vehicle check on the Ferrari’s license number and within minutes the reply came, the vehicle had not been reported lost or stolen and the vehicle’s owner was a James Marden, then gave his address. All that was lacking was the positive identification of the body before they could state that the driver was indeed James Marden. The team from the Coroner’s Office had arrived and they swarmed over the car and its occupant and found a wallet containing a Driver’s License with photograph on the body; it was James Marden. Initially it was suspected that the cause of death was alcohol as the interior of the car was littered with empty liquor bottles but only an autopsy would confirm the exact cause of death.     

 The two Detectives who were investigating Miss Ludlam’s murder were now on the pier questioning Rory McLaughlan. In Rory’s mind he tried piecing together the connection between these suicides and murders as he knew without a doubt his gut feeling kept saying there was a direct link, yet his mind kept saying that on the surface it appeared not to fit at all, he was confused. He silently thanked God for the dawning of a new day because of the night’s chilly air and the fear that the darkness had brought had now both gone. Things were more at ease in Rory’s inner man even though his mind was in turmoil and the light of day had restored his faith in the things he could see. Rory felt like a child who had seen bogey men in the dark shadows with only the light of day to reassure him of his deliverance from the forces of darkness and of evil.

Although Rory was faced with the mysterious death of James Marden, he did feel he could tackle it with a reasonably clear head.

The interrogation of Rory by the Detectives was over and they seemed satisfied with the answers he had given them but they took his name, address and telephone number as a formality for further questioning. The Detectives stated that they would wait upon the Coroner’s report before any further questioning but now they had a Doctor’s appointment and left.

Rory would also wait for the official report but he would have the results of the autopsy before anyone, he had a friend in the underground - namely the morgue!    

Rory returned to the familiar surroundings of R.A.G. Headquarters and was seated in his favourite armchair reading the Coroner’s report. The report suggested that foul play was definitely involved as the head injuries sustained by Marden as he was seated behind the steering wheel were not consistent with those that should occur when a vehicle was involved in a frontal impact. The Report went on to say that a slim cylindrical object, possibly a pipe, gun barrel or similar, had crushed Marden’s skull. Time of death was estimated to be around 12:30am.

Rory was not surprised by the Coroner’s Report as he was sure Marden had something important to say to him and it was now obvious that someone else didn’t want him saying it.      

The two Detectives arrived at Doc Wilkins’s Surgery only to find a single paged letter attached to the Surgery’s door stating that the ‘Surgery would be closed until further notice owing to a death in the family’, then followed the usual apologies for the inconveniencing his clientele and ended with his signature; Doctor Richard Edward Wilkins MD.

The Detectives contacted their Superior regarding Doctor Wilkins unavailability at the Surgery and inquired as to their next move. They were given new instructions and they smiled in approval and hung up.       

Little did the Doc’s patients know there was a death in the ‘family’ and the only family that this bachelor Doctor knew was in the form of the ‘Club’? A fatal accident had occurred at a Port Adelaide pier this morning when the Ferrari a man was driving had gone out of control and had plummeted into the River, was the early morning news that had alerted the members.

The name of the victim had not been released but the Doc and the others knew that it was Marden. It was Marden’s accidental death that had brought this extraordinary meeting of the ‘Club’ members together at the Judge’s mansion, the first meeting here since this whole nightmare had started with David’s suicide. Herman Von-Mueller, Benjamin Strickland and Judge Walter Thomas Borthwick stood near the door of the mansion watching the Doc drive his car to the front of the lavish home.    

The Doc had joined the others in waiting for the arrival of Helena and Brett who had also heard of Marden’s accident and had left their hiding place at the Doc’s Estate to meet them at the mansion. Just before the Doc arrived Helena had telephoned the Judge from her mobile saying she would be there in twenty minutes. Helena and Brett arrived exactly twenty minutes later and the others greeted them.

It was just after 10.00am when the Judge found himself reaching for the half empty bottle of Scotch, physically the Judge appeared drawn, his condition owed itself to the missing top half of the Scotch which he had drunk the night before. His tolerance and dependence upon the Scotch was beginning to show and he knew he was becoming addicted being befriended by this demon in a bottle. ‘Just one’ the voice in his head would say to him. ‘To make you feel better’. Yes, only one as the Judge gave in without a fight. Down the hatch and into his empty well rounded gullet. ‘Ah, relief’ the voice inside cried as it thanked him for his mercy.      

The others graciously declined his unenthusiastic offer of a drink but each person watched the Judge as he drank and gave furtive glances towards one another hoping to find the answer within someone else’s face. Everyone had congregated within the Dining room and showed signs of fatigue as they moved slowly, having no purpose or direction. The Judge poured himself another Scotch and this time he decided and promised faithfully, that this would be his last for some time. He knew as they all did that they needed to get a grip on the reality of the situation and start by confronting the problems at hand, not to give in to the forces of doom and destruction.      

Walter was now powered by alcohol and being deceived by his own mind he thought he could think more clearly as hope, inspiration, courage, all came with the third glass of Scotch. He was having positive thoughts now about their situation and was going to encourage the others when the telephone rang.

The caller soon brought the Judge back to earth with a thud as the sound of the authoritative voice reminded the Judge of the position they were all in. The voice was none other than Antonio Bentennelli!      

 The Judge switched from the handset to the external speaker so all could hear Bentennelli’s voice coming through loud and clear. He reminded them who was really in control of the situation as he asserted himself to everyone in the room giving no room for error on what he would be expecting from them all. He demanded their complete loyalty and obedience to his wishes and in effect they would be his puppets, his manipulative pawns in his chess game. There was to be no further loose lips or any foolishness in attempting to solicit help from any one outside of the ‘Club’ as it would not be tolerated nor accepted. He was in charge! Bentennelli then revealed a few points he thought that might be of interest. It was soon to be permanently etched into their minds that this man was not to be crossed. They were shocked and speechless by Bentennelli’s implications that James Marden’s attempt to seek help with a problem had resulted in his accidental death and even loose-lipped Lola Duvwar had met with an untimely end. The members looked at one another realising that these deaths were not simple accidents after all but planned by Bentennelli, then his demanding voice cut the air like a boning knife in a slaughterhouse that cut to the very core of their existence. Bentennelli warned the Judge and the Doc who had been mentioned by Miss Ludlam before she too had tragically met her demise; everyone glanced around the room with the identical inquiry in mind, had he killed her too? How was it that he knew of the interview and her subsequent death? Bentennelli seemed to sense these mental inquiries within the room and added wittingly that he had friends not only in lowly places but also in high places, he laughed at his own brilliant humour then returned to the topic at hand. They were awe struck by his range of contacts as Bentennelli continued and bluntly said he just didn’t have them wired but all of Adelaide was under his control, he told them they would be contacted soon to discuss further plans. Abruptly he hung up.      

Of the seven original ‘Club’ members only five remained and of the seven children only Brett was left as Helena’s toy boy and the ‘Clubs’ puppet. This deteriorating ‘Club’ had to carry the ‘Cause’ and oversee the birthing of this ‘Satan’s child’ from hell which needed to be spoon-fed to the apathetic Australian society. They knew they had the leverage and the muscle behind them now to guarantee success and their right to stand in society as normal loving people with normal loving desires would also be upheld in Parliament by Bentennelli’s contacts, but if the cliché “Winners were Grinners” were true then they had indeed lost as six sullen faces revealed their nullified spirits. They seated themselves around Judge Walter Borthwick’s large oak table where they presented a picture of hopelessness and despair, and if each soul were visible their appearance would show they had been in a war zone: battered, bruised, bleeding and beyond repair.   

The Judge was the first to move slowly towards his well stocked bar where he shakily grasped the neck of his friend, a bottle of Scotch which seemed to have been silently beckoning him all evening, his earlier promise to himself long forgotten. Using two hands he poured a good measure of his friend into the well-used glass and negotiated it to his lips where he sent down his friend to take charge. Like lost sheep where the blind led the blind they all followed their leader, knowing that this was not the answer to their problems but could think of nothing better for the moment.     

At the finished of their drinks they were about to leave the Judge’s mansion when the Judge suggested that they contact one another within a day or two regarding any possible solution to their problem, that is unless Bentennelli had made any unknown arrangements. They were all given plenty to think about before they were to contact again and as they left, only the Doc and the Judge remained.

The Doc saw this as an opportune moment in which to have a private talk with the Judge about his obvious reliance on the bottle of Scotch. The Judge was truthful when asked and freely admitted that the Doc was correct and like a pressure valve being released the Judge poured out his soul to his lifetime friend. He could hold back no longer as he sat down with his head in his hands and wept bitterly, the Doc sat beside him and did what he did best, listened and consoled his friend who had now become his patient.   

Seated together in the room surrounded by hopelessness revealed a future that looked decidedly bleak that contained even dimmer prospects when their attention was diverted from their avalanche of self-pity by the ringing of the doorbell. Nervousness crept up their spines wondering who was at the door when the Judge’s butler brought in a message which could only add to their peril now gloom had surrounded them with the pressure increasing from all sides. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t a part of their plan. The ‘Cause’ was becoming cheap and dirty not at all the beautiful love child they had wanted.

The new obstacles stood firm on the other side of the door in the form of two beefy Detectives waiting somewhat impatiently.

The Doc thought quickly and convinced the Judge to go upstairs and address his physical condition while he endeavoured to stall these determined coppers with genial small talk and evasive answers.

Still waiting at the door with ever decreasing patience, were the two law enforcement Officer’s mentally planning their interrogation of the ‘Club’ members as they paced up and down outside the Judge’s home. One clenched his fist and drove it hard into his other hand, eager to get on with business.

Finally the Detectives were invited in and wasted no time in formalities as they began throwing questions fast and accurately at the Doc. The Doc’s defenses were weak and crumbled quickly and were in need of urgent support but could only wait for the ‘Right Honourable Judge Walter Thomas Borthwick’ to return.     

Walter was making a frantic attempt to collect his faculties, as he stood in front of a mirror upstairs with his head travelling at the speed of a runaway freight train. “Come on Walter” were the words of encouragement he spoke audibly to his reflection and with these words he began to psyche himself into a state of false self control. Deep down he knew that he and the Doc were in a very messy business but he did have one thing in his favour, he knew the Law and that would be used in their defence. It may even create breathing room to get their stories in line with one another and the stranger in the mirror acknowledged his agreement by a firm and deliberate nodding of its head.

The Judge walked casually downstairs feeling that he was now prepared for the inevitable confrontation that he was sure would be ugly but ugly was to be an inept description concerning these two law enforcement Officers.      

As he walked downstairs he came into the Doc’s view and the Judge’s eyes became fixed onto a service revolver that was aimed at the head of his friend. A split second later, he too felt cold steel forced against his own temple, which sent an instantaneous fear throughout his body. The Judge was terrified as his legs that would normally carry his substantial body weight went limp and jelly like. His heart rate increased dramatically as a sense of hot and cold flushes enveloped his body when he heard the sound of the trigger being cocked, his eyes widened and he almost choked on his own spittle as a voice from behind told him to sit with his colleague, the Judge willingly obeyed fearing his legs would no longer support him. He collapsed into a chair next to the Doc who was equally as terrified and neither spoke nor moved choosing to look straight ahead. The only sound that seemed to be greatly magnified within that room was their own breathing.    

One of the Detectives paced in front of the Doc and the Judge and the other stood nearby like an executioner on a hangman’s platform waiting to be given the signal to release the trapdoor. Here there was no Defence Lawyer, no Judge and no Jury, but what was here in this room, was a vigilante judge and a ‘grim reaper’ executioner, both of which had the predetermined fate of the Doc and Judge in their hands. The Detectives had come with one mission and this became evident as they spoke. The Judge and the Doc soon realised that these two were corrupt and had been bought by Bentennelli and had in fact become the Muscle Men for the mob. The Detectives sensed the conclusion drawn by both the Judge and the Doc and they made it very clear that they only served one master. The pacing Detective was more threatening and menacing as he stated ‘it was time for the ‘Club” to join the big boys in the major league’.     

The Detectives lay open the facts and not a word was spoken by the Judge or the Doc as the whole plan of the ‘Club” was revealed to them. All the ‘Clubs’ plans, dates for specific events, classified memo’s, funds, governmental personnel involved and the names of a few interested parties that were willing to fight for the ‘Cause’, everything was expounded to them in detail. The Judge and the Doc stared in amazement at the amount of information they had accumulated regarding the affairs of the ‘Club’ and they shook their heads in disbelief. How had they discovered so much data? When it appeared the two Detectives had hit a raw nerve the pacing Detective reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a book. The Judge and the Doc were stunned, as they knew that book anywhere, it was Miss Ludlam’s notebook!

Waving the notebook in front of their faces they soon realised how vulnerable they had been and a maniacal grin emerged on the face of the Detective that held the trump card. The Judge and the Doc were reminded of a homicidal maniac who had fulfilled his desire to conquer his last victim, with their thoughts were given credence when the Detective with the notebook admitted to how he had procured the evidence. ‘How sweet and innocent she was almost a model citizen’ he announced as he laughed openly. ‘She was like a lamb led to the slaughter’. For a split second it seemed as if there was a heart in this callous Detective, a twinkling of a conscience as he described the frailty of Miss Ludlam but this was short-lived as the next moment he reflected on the incident being target practice for one of his associates.      

In a fleeting moment the mood had plummeted even further as the Detective fixed his attention towards Doc Wilkins. The Doc’s heart rate suddenly stepped into another gear as he looked into the menacing face only inches away from his and was reminded of their first encounter at his Practice when they had inquired of this mysteries notebook. The Detective’s eyes locked onto the Doc’s own and plundered his meagre defences to violate his soul as he said in no uncertain terms that his decision to stay tight lipped at the time of their meeting at his Surgery and wanting legal advice was his only salvation. He moved his eyes from the Doc to the Judge’s terrified darting eyes and made his point painfully clear, their discretion was not only paramount but also absolutely essential to their own survival.    

The rules were simple they were to dance to the tune that someone else was going to call and that tune would be conducted by Mr Bentennelli and the Detectives would orchestrate the ‘Club’ members’ moves. Mr Bentennelli would not be personally involved any longer for security reasons and any further contact would be made through them as trusted men of Mr Bentennelli, the ‘Club’ members would take orders from the two Detectives and were to do nothing without their prior permission. The business discussion now at an end, the Detectives put forth to the Judge and the Doc if they had an understanding and clarity of the situation. They nodded in a state of submission rather than that of approval.    

The Detectives holstered their firearms in full view of the Judge and the Doc showing their dominance over the situation and over them, the Detectives concluded by saying that both of them would be held accountable and responsible for the rest of the ‘Club’ members. The torment had ended for now as the two Detectives headed for the door to find their own way out.      

The Doc moved shakily towards the bar to pour a stiff drink for them both. His trembling hands splashed the bottle’s contents outside the glass as well as in and then he walked unsteadily toward the Judge and handed him his half filled glass. The Doc was still in a state of shock as he began gibbering about leaving the country and assuming an alias and if necessary he would have plastic surgery. In sheer desperation he was saying they all needed a way out because this was not going according to their plan.

They had known from the beginning they would expect some opposition to their ‘bastard child’ and that it would come from the predominant mainstreams of society but there would always be those who would not understand their need to be loved, yet he had not expected anything like this. The Doc was still groping around in the wasteland of his mind as he tried frantically to find a way out, an exit from this mess. The Doc looked towards the Judge hoping for some answer to his question but noticed his blank stare. Walter was sitting with his drink untouched staring into oblivion as the realisation of trying to escape Bentennelli and his contacts begun to dawn on him. His many years on the Bench and his judging of the undesirables he had committed to prison in the past, had Walter concluding that he had sent many of the mafia hoodlums to prison and he knew better than most how well connected they were here and overseas. The Judge knew of their code of conduct amongst the brotherhood and of the honour amongst the thieves but most of all he knew that he and the Doc and the rest of the members had crossed the line into organised crime. There was no way out, there was no exit, and there was definitely no hope!

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

The country was being pulled apart by the legislation to introduce paedophilia into society and it had spilled into the streets, the workplace, homes and hotels. It had shown itself like a cancer looming amongst the nation’s churches and in a country which supported the sound idea of a multi-culture and the living together in harmony, was being poisoned by the disease of this leprous ‘child’ that seemed to be breeding anarchy.     

Its victims were to be the innocent children and the innocent people who did not fully understand its consequences; the apathetic who would sit and wait and were sure the Government would say no to this issue; and the average Australian battler who would fight for what they knew was right and who cared mostly for a roof over his head, a steady job, food on the table and a dream to have life as it was, ‘The Australian Way’. A Way that seemed to be a vague memory to many.

The ‘child’ was being fed into the Australian culture and was the staple diet of conversation on everyone’s lips. No matter what creed or colour, no matter what background, young or old, new resident or native Australian. All were feeling the pressure and again like so many times throughout history they had to fight for what was right and although that Australian fighting spirit was alive and well, right now they were fighting one another.    

The timing could not be worse for the Government as the eyes of the world were watching Australia as the forthcoming Olympic Games were to be held in Sydney in the year 2000, and the new millennium was advertised as not only a time of great joy and new beginnings for all but was to be a benchmark as an example for the rest of the world. Peace, love and joy were the themes for the Olympics where Australia would be the foundation of worldwide solidarity that would unite every country for the next one thousand years. At this time it appeared the foundations were being built upon sand that would never stand the test of time.      

The coming of a new era brought with it man’s oldest character flaws of lust, greed, covetousness, anger and even murder and the ‘bastard child’ was a prodigy of man’s deeply rooted perverse nature. Had mankind stooped so low to even consider this ‘child’ had a right to life in society? Had this abomination any rights? The ‘child’ audaciously stood in scathing defiance and hissed its venomous poison toward the remnant of good moral fibre in society!     

The ‘child’ should never achieve the status of being heard in the High Court of the land! At that time it should have been strapped to its high chair and sent on a roller coaster ride to hell, instead it was throwing down the gauntlet to the best brains in the country. The Prime Minister revelled in the idea of being the first President of the Republic of Australia and had passed the issue to the Leader of the Opposition who in turn relayed it to other Ministers and so the issue of the ‘Cause’ was continually avoided.

Likened to a volleyball being manoeuvred from team to opposing team as the pace became fast and furious as each Politician concerned argued for or against the issue being passed or rejected. Abuse became prevalent with tempers flaring as venomous attacks were hurled at any Minister that stood bravely to speak on the matter, the chaos only being interrupted by ‘Order’ ‘Order’ that was demanded by the Speaker of the House

This was going to be a long battle where only the most cunning, the most tenacious and the most determined would triumph in the end.

The ‘bastard child’ had grown up as a freak but had learnt how to survive and in its survival it had learnt how to fight and it fought with any ways or means at its disposal. One successful and powerful means of survival came from man’s own unquenchable greed for money as filthy lucre became the driving force behind most of mankind’s desires, if the price was right money could buy anything, even moralistic views could be bought for a price.

Antonio Bentennelli had more than enough of this wondrous fibrous paper to wave under the noses of these pillars of society, which were commonly known as Politicians.    

A few of the Politicians were already on Bentennelli’s payroll and discovered too late that they had been trapped by their own fleshly desires and greed, just as the ‘Club’ had been snared into the trap by a web of deceit. This red back spider of the human race had manipulated them all as he coaxed his victims into his clutches by using their own egocentric self-centredness to finally become their downfall.

Bentennelli was a master hunter who had worked on the theory that if you give someone enough rope they would hang themselves, all he had to do was grease their egos and lay a sweetener around their senses which usually was the unforgettable smell of crisply printed money.      

The spider web of treachery, deceit and dishonour started years ago at street level when Bentennelli was a young man and grew up with mafia corruption and like many he was answerable to the Godfather type figureheads. Now after many years of faithful service to the brotherhood he was now at the top, at least in the beautiful city of Adelaide. His Organization had been built over many years and was running at the top levels of society, now he needed this large living organism to nurture and sustain this new admission to his growing empire, ‘child pornography’. This ‘bastard child’ needed fattening up, as there was a flourishing market for the by-product of this ‘Childs’ healthy existence. To Bentennelli this was a simple case of supply and demand.

The demand was great but the supply was being hindered by what he considered outdated and antiquated laws. There was an international market as well as the national market which was screaming out for young flesh and there was already a lucrative ‘child’ slave market that dealt mainly in whites for overseas buyers, though the real money would be made in mail order teenage brides and young virile studs that would be catalogued and numbered for easy selection. The timing was right and the harvest fields were bountiful.

In today’s frantic lifestyle where image is everything and where a fifty thousand dollar four wheel drive was an example of total impracticability and peoples wants were being catered rather than meeting their basic and affordable needs. Societies run by digital television and where ‘New Age’ thinking and a society that considered no longer proper to chasten a child with a spanking onto the seat of learning were dictating the Internet. Then there were new ways of teaching and spelling words as they sounded. There appeared no right or wrong way, as any correction was becoming a thing of the past! There was no difference in the attire between teachers and those that were being taught. Sexual relations between two unmarried parties were becoming commonplace. Leaders of nations were having extra marital affairs and the populace accepted it without wanting them to leave their positions of Office, civilisation seemed to have come full circle and was returning to the days of Sodom and Gomorrah. Society was ready for the picking for Antonio Bentennelli, his foresight on society’s downturn would help him cash in on this money making extravaganza.     

Bentennelli would let down his net and scoop the dregs of society, the outcasts and the lonely. Those that were rejected by their own families through one reason or another, their excuses being too busy or too tired or too drunk to be a doting parent. The young homeless refugees of affluent society would soon be entangled into his net and would slowly one by one be brought upon his trawler of deceit and destruction. Eventually these refugees would be sold on to the world market for pittance, pittance that was compared to a lost soul. The token few that he would lose to sheltered workshops or to do-gooder action groups that were run by the Government, or to those few that returned home or foster care and found love didn’t concern him at all. He would have more than enough and to think all this was to be organised from his hole in the ground that he called home.

A smirk came to the face of Antonio Bentennelli as he pondered the magnificence of his plan, likening himself to the mole that made its home underground which had few natural enemies. Somehow this gave him a warm comfortable feeling where a sensual euphoria enveloped his whole being. In this spiritual enlightened state of mind he calculated his next manoeuvre to gain control of other Parliamentary officials, thinking to himself that he should have enough to gain the majority vote in Parliament to push the ‘Bill’ through unhindered. This would be a sweet victory and one that was bought by natural greed and corruption stemming from man’s basic desire for power, the very same power that had started many a fight and indeed wars.

Bentennelli loved the power game and although it was similar to the others in the past it did have one difference, these players were suppose to be honest. The game faced stiff opposition with the remnant of decent moral fibre persisting in surviving in Australian society. Wisely Bentennelli knew how to avoid a full confrontation with the good people of the country having such an contemptuous issue as this and to survive he had to use corruption at the highest level, this is why politics had intrigued him so much.     

A referendum was quenched in Parliament as being thought to be a total waste of taxpayers’ money and with the Government expenditure as it was, too many tax payers funds were already being misappropriated. This ‘bastard child’ surely would not be expected to live much longer as it already had its abominable life expectancy extended for too long. The elected heads of Government had reassured the unknowing public into a false sense of security by stating they had their interests at heart and would not let this ‘bastard child’ live, eat and breathe its foul existence into a society that was built on blood, sweat and tears. Although long forgotten, the very blood that built Australia came from the early pioneer settlers as well as the indigenous Australians. The sweat came from the early convict labour and the tears from the wives and children who were widowed and made fatherless by the history of this ‘Lucky Country’. The same corruption and lust for power that was in control then was still alive and doing well over two hundred years later. Bentennelli was relying on Australia’s apathy towards his ‘child’ and trusting in nothing or no one than his own faith and ability to foresee the outcome. His forte lay in his ability to manipulate people and situations and if Lola Duvwar was alive she could bare witness to his manipulative powers.     

Lola Duvwar was used by Bentennelli to gain control of the ‘Clubs’ inner sanctum and assisted in David’s suicide by supplying and administering the sleeping tablets, then in this drugged state Bentennelli’s henchmen callously murdered him by slashing his wrists. It was a perfect set-up and a stroke of pure genius he thought to himself, how he loved it when those poor simpletons tried to cover their tracks. They were like putty in his hands and he manipulated them to a point where they served him well but when they outlived their usefulness he would simply make them redundant and exterminated them. Duvwar, Ludlam and that fool Marden had to be eliminated already. Lola had outlived her usefulness with her blabbermouth and her Cocaine habit that was a liability. Miss Ludlam had spilled her guts to the Police so she was subsequently eliminated. Marden who was going to tell everything to Rory McLaughlan had been followed by Bentennelli’s men as were all the ‘Club’ members and he too outlived his usefulness. As for the five children he thought regretfully, they could have been sold or used in his Organization but they proved too much of a risk. He would again use the same manipulation when playing one Politician against another and all of it was done without their direct knowledge, he oozed and bathed in his own self-gratification.

From the virtual fortress in Coober Pedy of the far north of South Australia, Antonio Bentennelli was the mastermind behind the impregnation of his ‘child’ which he would artificially inseminated into the womb of society. He was a Doctor Frankenstein who breed this degenerated obscenity into the lives of a civilised society and where his main priority was to reap the benefits of the seeds of corruption and anarchy which he had already sown. All he did was water the seeds and wait for the right timing for harvest and that time had come, he could wait no longer as his ‘child’ needed feeding so it could grow.      

Bentennelli was in control from this obscure underground retreat where he directed his operations and where all decisions were made. Antonio considered that he was one of the greatest dictators of all time and modelled himself on his idol Adolf Hitler. He thought of Hitler with tenderness as he nestled away in the mountains in a building called the ‘Wolf’s Lair’ and from this strategic hideaway he directed his armies. The comparison he had drawn with the ‘Son of Satan’ brought an evil smile to his well worn and characterized face, then he thought about the next decision he had to make and that would prove critical.     

At last his plan was coming to a climax and an exuberance overwhelmed his being as he could hardly contain himself when reaching for the telephone, this was to connect him with one of his most trusted henchmen who would know that it was time to put his genius plan into action. Bentennelli made the call and the voice acknowledged his orders then promptly hung up.      

Under the cloak of darkness that evening the private telephone of the Premier of South Australia rang. He turned on his bedside lamp and grabbed the receiver and a voice of Bentennelli’s henchman spoke with boldness and authority as he went on to explain that he was in possession of some revealing photographs of him and a particular lady of the night. The caller gave directions as to where they should meet and he wanted them followed explicitly by the Premier. The call was brief, direct and over leaving the Head of State stunned. He knew the public considered him to be a happily married man and the repercussions from this scandal should it ever be known were unthinkable. How could this have happened he thought he had been more than discreet? What did this man want? He came to the obvious conclusion that it had to be blackmail, he thought he may as well pay up and get this man off his back and whatever the cost it was a small price to pay for his silence.

It was a sleepless night for the Premier as he wrestled with his conscience.      

The next day brought few surprises for the Premier when he met the man who could make or break his career and marriage but he would not identify himself. The photographs were in his possession and concealed in a plain brown envelope. The unidentified man revealed that the photographs of the Premier showing him engaging in a promiscuous activity with his secret lover held no monetary value to them but the negatives would be held by him and they were to cost him dearly. The man would keep the negatives in return for his full support in forcing the legislation through Parliament so the ‘love child’ of the nineties would be accepted into a staunch society. The idea was hideous to the Premier, as his party had already begun to campaign against the resurrection of this ‘bastard child’ in the news media recently; it had been a hot issue since the historic Courtroom victory, which first gave this baby the breath of life. The Premier thought if sleep eluded him last night it would certainly would again tonight and for many more nights to come.

The Premier had now sold his soul to the devil when he valued his position as the Leader of the State rather than admitting to his failings as a human being, not wanting to lose his image as the devoted husband and the squeaky clean Politician. This issue involved a political power play which would be easier said than done as he had to persuade the average Australian voter that this was indeed good for the State and the people overall but first, he had to call a council with all of his chief heads of staff and convince them.     

Ramifications were felt throughout the whole party as everyone concerned suggested the Premier had gone insane, as this was political suicide. His colleagues attempted to convince him to change his mind but the Premier stood firm on his decision. He ordered a select few members to ‘leak’ this news to the press where he would then hold an interview with his favoured pressmen and make known the reason for the reversal of his campaign against paedophilia. In a closed session the party faithfuls listened to their trusted leader’s reasons behind what they considered a fatal turn towards suicide. When the Premier had finally ended his explanation on his change of heart, the party faithfuls were persuaded to believe his reasons and all agreed it did make sense.

The issue had been bounced back and forth in Parliament and was finally given the green light by the Politicians, the ‘bastard child’ would get the support it needed to survive.   

It was the time of season again where the Politicians hugged and kissed many babies, shook hands with the voters on their campaign trails, spent a lot of time talking about nothing in particular and whatever one party called black the other would call white. The only time they were found to agree was when a political member had died then they all stated he was a good fellow yet when alive they backstabbed him and many others in their climb to the top.

It had been forced upon the party to be foster parents to this mutant ‘child’ of social evolution and as the ‘child’ grew in strength and stature more Politicians succumbed to the growing pressure. That pressure came from the party colleagues or by other more devious means, just as the Premier found when he fell victim to those means.      

The ‘child’ was becoming stronger and this pleased Antonio Bentennelli, as his plan was about to become a reality. He was in control of this ‘Childs’ destiny and it would take its rightful place in society although he knew the initial guidance of this ‘Childs’ upbringing would be controlled by Government as announced by party policy, but Bentennelli laughed and thought how foolish they were to think that such a thing could be controlled. He loved the moronic good intentions of the party faithfuls because he knew this ‘child’ was uncontrollable, except to the voice of its father and its father was he.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

This single word from a child’s lips is the most powerful one known to mankind because with this word a child can pick all the knowledge from the most prolifically well-organised brains of society. The Premier was brought to his knees by the innocence of his own children and by their merciless use of the three-lettered soul searching word, why?      

Why indeed, came the call from the inner man whose goodness wanted to shine through and where a faint inner light of righteousness began to illuminate the darkness that had engulfed his very soul. He could not let this act of betrayal go through Parliament without a fight because it would in essence betray his own children; there must be a way out or some other avenue where there was still some preservation of justice for the young. How could he fight? What weapons of warfare could he use to defeat this enemy?

His carnal mind and nature would not allow himself to be totally honest with his wife about the relationship he had with a working girl of the streets. Being convicted by his children for the lunacy he was about to unleash on society was one thing but to admit to his wife who loved and trusted him that he was an adulterer was something totally unthinkable. Like the early Christians who were thrown into the lion’s den is what the Premier had envisaged if she ever found out and there’s nothing like a woman scorned. No, he decided he was not that brave.  

The Premier thought of many avenues to fight this enemy but found his options were limited; he needed total secrecy to hide the adulterous affair and to protect his career, his marriage and his children. Discretion being of the utmost importance he chose the Police where he could guarantee their silence by donating funds from the private and public sectors, he would not consider it as a bribe to the Commissioner of Police but rather funding that was deemed necessary through party policies. The Premier justified his decision on the grounds that Government expenditure was warranted as crime was ever present and had in fact spiralled so who would ever question or deny the much needed funding of Police protection when society was degenerate and rampant. The public were bombarded by senseless squandering of their hard earned taxes and besides what’s another couple of million dollars here or there, they were just figures to the average Australian who could only dream of its existence and where they could only obtain it through winning a Lottery. The Australians left the facts and figures to the brain trust of their nation - the Politicians.      

The Commissioner of Police accepted the ominous task with one hand and with the other accepted a more than generous offer from the Premier who was guaranteed confidentiality. The Commissioner would assign the two most decorated and trustworthy Detectives to the case but meanwhile he advised the Premier to continue his fight for the ‘Cause’ to become legalised whilst he used that valuable time to flush out his blackmailer and he would supply their descriptions and identikit photographs to the two Detectives. The two shook hands and the Commissioner gave a firm pat on the back of the Premier as he led him to the door to conclude their meeting, little did the Premier know that the Commissioner’s hand contained a knife.    

The knife in the back of the Premier came in the form of a telephone call to the two Detectives who were ordered to watch the Premier twenty four hours a day, being answerable only to the Commissioner. As this had become a priority their immediate murder cases of Lola Duvwar, James Marden, Miss Ludlam and David’s would be given to other Officers who would also be directly accountable to the Commissioner. This pleased the two Detectives knowing that everything was going according to Bentennelli’s plan. Now all that remained was for the Commissioner to telephone Bentennelli and inform him of the new and unexpected development.      

The telephone call was placed to Antonio Bentennelli and as the Commissioner explained the new event, Bentennelli smiled an insane and evil smile knowing that he didn’t get to the top of his Organization without being prepared for every possible contingency, he knew that at any given moment the Premier would be on the mat facing his victory sword and with its point firmly resting on the Premiers Adam’s apple. He loved the taste of victory, as his foe lay helpless and quivering at the mercy of his power of veto that only he could enforce. The Commissioner was told to wait on the funds that were promised before doing anything further and to keep in contact regarding any new developments but for now he was to hang up as Bentennelli had to make another very important telephone call. This call would be to a very old friend and associate of many years and a person in whom he could trust implicitly, one who was overseas at the moment relaxing from his last job.    

“Raven’ answered in his usual ‘grim reaper’ voice that satanically gnarled and hissed like a serpent, his voice of coldness reverberated through the telephone’s earpiece putting fear into any caller and even though Bentennelli was called a friend he was no exception. There was something about ‘Raven’ that made him perfect for any job, he had no morals, no scruples and absolutely no conscience and was the perfect killing machine using a smorgasbord of methods to carry out his most unique form of art.

‘Raven’ saw death not a downer but as a rush when he watched the life force drain out of his victim’s body. He was classed as the best in his field and a consummate professional who loved and took pride in his work and that was the nature of this telephone call, a call to work.  

Telephoning ‘Raven’ was always brief, to the point and cryptically coded for safety, these precautions had been pre-arranged by ‘Raven’ years ago to eliminate eavesdropping or the tapping of telephone lines. The message came to ‘Raven’ to be in readiness at a moment’s notice, as he was needed.

‘Raven’ hung up the receiver and reflected to a time when at aged seven he became subject to the hideous brutality and sexual exploitation from a depraved step father, his own twisted and corrupt mind was the product of the afflicted mental and physical abuse. Even at this age life seemed to be preordained by Satan himself where he likened maiming something or somebody as an entrée and to kill was the main course, his mind and soul were evil and his heart filled with a pure hatred. Love, kindness and compassion were unknown commodities and were totally unnecessary he thought, and friendship was something he had heard about but had never truly experienced. Laughter was for fools and some deluded morons who could not see what the real world was like, he derisively chuckled to himself and a wry smirk came to his face. Downing a measure of ‘Sambuca” he smacked his lips with anticipation of the hunt and the eventual kill.

Waiting for the inevitable telephone call was as good as foreplay to ‘Raven’, an erotic turn on which would be the prelude to unleashing the dark forces which ruled his inner being. The blood lusts of this psychopathic killing machine were being stimulated by the mere thought of his next contract, he was beginning to come alive again being rejuvenated by the thoughts of the hunt and the mental anguish that he would inflict upon his victim. Hearing the blood curdling screams, begging for mercy and the uncontrollable nervous sweat as his victim made a frantic final bid to hold onto life and with ‘Raven’ at the helm there would never be any reprieve. Justice was in his hands as he became the Judge, the Jury and the Executioner and death was the only answer! The morbid anticipation with which ‘Raven’ waited was exhilarating and the life giving force that rekindled a fire in the soul of this man of darkness, how he yearned for his next kill.

The telephone sounded and ‘Ravens’ wait had now ended, Antonio Bentennelli spoke with urgency in his voice that reinforced the swiftness in which the mafia magnate wanted his presence. A joy effervesced from within the inner man of ‘Raven’ as the hunt that he had often played out in his mind had now begun in earnest. How he enjoyed his work. The profile of this killer was as flawless as a perfectly cut diamond, having no record, no fingerprints with Police or Interpol, not even a parking ticket and in the world of Police, Crime and Corruption ‘Raven’ simply didn’t exist. ‘Raven’ was truly a nobody except for the fact that he was an ultimate professional in his field, a psychotic killer maybe but he had trained himself years ago to be meticulous and almost ritualistic in his planning to be a perfectionist. A trademark which he developed into an obsession which made him the very best in his field where he always worked alone, not that he ever considered anything could go wrong when working with others but purely for the joy of the kill and it was that moment of pleasure he would share with no one.

Bentennelli wanted ‘Raven’ to board the first available flight into Adelaide Airport and from there collect the hire vehicle that Antonio assured would be waiting for him, then he was to drive to Bentennelli’s home in Coober Pedy.

Antonio Bentennelli could now relax after contacting ‘Raven’ as he knew he would soon be on his way and that his unfinished business would soon be resolved. He marvelled at his isolated fortress of evil that was proving to be perfectly positioned for his Headquarters of crime in the Southern Hemisphere. Antonio and ‘Raven’ often gloated over the simplicity and sheer genius of the whole operation.  

When ‘Raven’ arrived at Bentennelli’s home the two men of death, deprivation and destruction reminisced over their past successes where evil triumphed over good and as they sat drinking in Bentennelli’s home they joked and saluted each other’s brand of debauchery, toasting to each other’s prosperity and long lives, then it was time to attend to the business at hand.

It was big business and this assassin had been summoned to move upon the Head of State’s neck; the Premier was to die. The Premier had gone too far this time and would ultimately put Bentennelli’s plans into disarray if he were to go public regarding the blackmail. If this fool wanted to put his head on the chopping block then the very least Antonio Bentennelli could do was release the lever that would send the guillotine obligingly to its destination. Whatever possessed men to choose to be brave in the face of a stronger opposition? Where in the end do honesty, morals and righteousness ever get a man? Antonio shook his head in disbelief, just when he thought he had this ‘Politician’ in his pocket the damn fool decided that honesty was the best policy, damn strange thing for a Politician to do he thought!

Antonio Bentennelli considered every avenue when dealing with his opposition and as a master tactician he had foreseen this move as one of the very few possibilities left for the Premier, so ‘Raven’ was called to eliminate this ‘powder puff’ Politician.

Fortunately for Bentennelli the Commissioner of Police was not as noble and brought regular news of the Premier’s movements to him. The Commissioner had been instructed to keep an eye on the Premier and was told to deliver some incorrect and lethal information to him and like a lamb led to the slaughter the Premier had been mislead, in effect the Commissioner had given the slaughterman the knife with which to slit the Premier’s neck that was pulsating on the chopping block. 

When the Commissioner persuaded the Premier to hold back from making his public confession for one week because there was some information that could lead to the capture of the blackmailer, the Premier agreed to his request and this bought some extra time for Bentennelli.

As the election loomed closer the prospective candidates geared for a no holds barred campaign sharpening their tongues of fire and launching venomous attacks against each other in full view of the public, making the assassination more difficult but not impossible.

‘Raven’ asked for the Premier’s agenda for the next seven days and requested a complete list of telephone numbers of Antonio’s most reliable Police Officers that he could contact if necessary. He also wanted the telephone numbers of trusted firearm dealers, although he had chosen not to use a gun in this particular case but should there be a change of plans he wanted to be ready. Bentennelli knew ‘Raven’ well and also knew he didn’t buy anything unwisely so he offered his unlimited finances at ‘Ravens’ disposal to procure whatever he felt he may need. With the business now having been taken care of they relaxed over a drink and saluted to their success.   

The dawning of a new day and with the first flickering rays of sunshine silhouetting the low lying saltbush saw ‘Raven’ begin his return journey to the city of Adelaide.

Driving down the Highway towards Adelaide ‘Ravens’ hand stretched towards his black attaché case beside him on the passenger seat that held all the faxed documents from the Commissioner to Bentennelli. There was also a photograph of his intended victim as well as the names and addresses of those who would supply his needs. The fingers of his left hand wrapped around the attaché case handle in synchronization with his right foot applying more pressure to the accelerator pedal and the engine revs peaked, reluctantly he released his grip on the handle. He was feeling good as his blood lust began to be rejuvenated and all his senses tingled in anticipation of the kill. The adrenalin started pumping as his thoughts were consumed with the magnificence of the hunt and finally in his mind’s eye he saw the last breath of his victim. He smiled accordingly.

The demonic forces straight from hell spurred the beast inside him. The fire and brimstone, which erupted from his heart, started to flow like lava surging from the mouth of a volcano and his senses were stimulated by the almost sulphurous stench that accompanied the deaths of many who had fallen prey to him. To those that ‘Raven’ had personally extinguished the force of life were now being regurgitated in his darkened abysmal memory and with these thoughts ‘Raven’ grew in strength as he honed in on his target.

“Raven’ took the Premier’s photograph from the attaché case and as he studied the face before him he could almost taste the excitement as he wished the Premier would manifest beside him in the flesh. He pondered that thought for a moment and imagined tearing off strips of flesh of his already dead and stinking carcase only to feed the chunky morsels to his favourite bird of prey, the Crow

These intelligent creatures delighted ‘Raven’ so much that he had often found himself relaxing in his villa in Italy surrounded by these jet black feathered birds which were associated with death. His obsession with the predatory bird known as ‘Crows’ in Australia and ‘Ravens’ in other countries was where he was to select his trademark name many years ago and through it ‘Raven’ had found his identification, labelled in accordance with such a magnificent creature whose throaty call of ‘Caw Caw’ could put an eerie chill down the spine of anyone who became entranced by it and which seemed to signify death. “Raven’ had a large aviary containing these creatures and he fed them with rotting meat and live rodents, he laughed to himself as he looked at the faxed coloured photograph of his victim to be.  

It was late that evening when ‘Raven’ visualised the city lights of Adelaide and were a welcoming sight. He booked into a Motel under the protecting shadows of night and slept well into mid morning before the prearranged room service awakened him. The Motel staff entered carrying breakfast as ‘Raven’ was shaving and left without seeing him, just the way ‘Raven’ had planned.

‘Raven’ ate a hearty breakfast then proceeded with business. He laid his attaché case on the side table and extracted all the documents pertaining to the Premiers itinerary for the coming week of the Election campaign.

‘Raven’ had to move quickly to calculate the method he would use in this assassination as he had less than five days to complete his work but he wasn’t unduly concerned as he was trained to work under pressure in his profession. Methodically he studied the Premier’s tight schedule that had been guaranteed not to alter. Bentennelli had his evil network clutching the reins of this Election but even so ‘Raven’ awaited any possible change by the master of corruption and degradation. Even ‘Raven’ was a part of the master’s plan and just as all would bow down to the commands of Antonio Bentennelli and his Satanic genius, so too would ‘Raven’.

PART III

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

‘Raven’ picked up the receiver and dialled direct to Bentennelli hearing it ring twice before being answered. ‘Raven’ was about to tell him that the time and date were arranged when he was stopped, the Premier’s disposal had to wait as a more urgent situation had arisen and the overall plan would fail miserably if this problem was to continue. ‘Raven’ listened intently as he was told of his new target, the Premier wasn’t as important as this new firebrand of righteousness that needed to be extinguished and quickly. Its virgin holiness was running rampant and with support from the good people who were a remnant of decency, they were fighting a good fight. This worried Antonio Bentennelli as this new threat was coming from one very determined man, Rory McLaughlan. He had to be taken care of quickly and cleanly he was becoming a thorn in the flesh to Bentennelli.   

“People of Australia” was the call of one crying in the wilderness. “Unite together as divided we will fall. Join together as one nation putting our racial differences, religious beliefs, and the status of society aside. All things will have to be put aside including our views on Tax Reforms, differences of opinion on unemployment issues and the future Australia becoming a Republic. Issues that concern exorbitant wastage of taxpayers money on Federal and State expenditures including the Parliamentary payouts to its members, the travel exploits and concessions. Medical Benefits and the squashing of various Hospitals and their streamlining of medical staff have to be put aside. Quarrelling over pay rises and foreign debt, Union unrest that incorporates the waterfront disputes, Decisions on the single parent programmes, Land right debates, Mining and Greenies, Pensioner groups that have been coming under attack and the legalisation of Heroine for addicts, all will have to call a truce. Even the 2000 Olympics and the problem of the Millennium Bug has to be put aside as Australia and Australians fight as an army with one accord, one purpose and one goal and that goal is to fight with one intention in mind and it is not to maim but to kill and destroy the common enemy. Our enemy is the ‘bastard child’, who has raised its ugly head in total disrespect to what we know as the moral fibre of society and indeed the moral fibre of mankind.”      

Rory McLaughlan as a solitary ‘voice in the wilderness’ who had put everything aside himself and threw his hat into the ring to enter Politics. Rory entered this cutthroat and ‘dog eat dog’ business as an Independent candidate and he was doing surprisingly well considering he lacked the heavy financial backing and media support. What he was saying and more importantly what he was doing was gaining more and more ground. Rory stood for a single political issue and that was to see the death of this ‘bastard child’. To vote for him was to vote for the future of every Australian regardless of their ethnic or social backgrounds, equality for all was his catch cry, as he needed the whole nation to forge ahead with young Australians not having to live under the curse of this Frankenstein monster. He wanted children to live free from this social stigma and to live in a society where they could flourish as individuals and grow as the creative individuals that God had intended them to be, not as radical as existentialism where their philosophy is that man is free to choose his own actions but rather one where each individual should be allowed to develop his or her natural ability to strive forward to conquer life’s challenges in whatever field the young would choose to succeed.     

The time was now to set the young people free from this oppressor. The time was now to kill the enemy before it killed the future young Doctors, Lawyers and Politicians which would be governing this country, even perhaps to be deemed the ‘Lucky Country’ once more.     

The momentum mounted as people rallied behind this curious new energetic party which seemed to have breathed new life into those who followed this brash fiery Scotsman who delivered his position on a matter that was important for all.

The average Australian was waking up and rising from their easy chairs. The ‘norms’ of Australia were rattling tins; loose change was slowly but surely being turned into substantial money where Rory was being funded by the likes of the elderly some of whom resided in pensioner homes. The Old Diggers who had fought in the two ‘Great Wars’ thought they would never have to fight again were answering the call to battle. The call was crying ‘Your country needs you’ and was again answered by these mighty men of valour. Their courage that had once shone like a beacon was again to illuminate as their souls marched out to war to lead the country by example and to meet the enemy head on.

This time the enemy was planted on native soil and it was to be hand to hand combating but the Digger spirit would not give in without a fight, this monster named ‘Paedophilia’ had to be stopped in its tracks and knocked to the ground and bayoneted with a sword of righteousness. 

The fight had only begun when the two mainstream parties Labour and Liberal that were likened to two predatory beasts of the jungle were ready to devour the weaker uninitiated greenhorn in the business. There was no difference in this concrete jungle to that of the animal kingdom, the rules were the same where only the strong would survive.

The kings of this jungle wore business suits and carried brief cases and the ‘suits’ of these refined aristocrats of ‘jungle’ warfare preened themselves with the latest in fashion. The fashions that came from overseas were the finest Italian cloths and leathers, silks from China, high quality cotton shirts and ties from the United States. The ‘suits’ wives had access to the latest Paris fashions, perfumes and adorned themselves with high quality diamonds from South Africa. They ate the finest caviar from Russia and drank cognac from France. Then they had the audacity to dictate to the Australian people to buy ‘Australian Made’ and be supportive of this nation and be proud to be an Australia.

 It was this very hypocrisy that made the fiery redheaded Scottish born and now nationalised Australian want to puke. Rory was accustomed to a good fight and was not afraid of these so called ‘Goliaths’ of politics when he remembered the outcome of a particular battle where a young shepherd boy named David sling shot Goliath then went on bravely to become the King of Israel. The same principal was at work now as it was a question of faith and faith in believing what he was doing was right. Of course he was right and he had to make people understand that the walls of society had to be built on solid rock.

A solid foundation was needed, one of good moral standing, honesty, integrity, hard work and good old fashioned loyalty to the people and that’s what Rory intended to give them as their representative in politics.       

The walls of safety of this nation had once been built by the blood, sweat and tears of the old Diggers, now corruption had infiltrated and the pathetic Politicians and had crumbled those walls to the extent that they were coming down and giving no protection to the next generation of Australian’s. The Australian society was cancerous and dying a slow agonising death as Police corruption, murder, rape and elderly people bashing was on the increase. Child molestation in schoolyards and preschools and child abduction was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. Now the foul stench of ‘paedophilia’ wanted to grow and furthermore wanted a place in the Australian way of life and to survive in Australian society.

Execute this ‘bastard child’ was the call from the one crying in the wilderness, let the tree of life once again take root into fertile soil in this great Southland, this land called Australia and home of the free.

Rory had a fight on his hands but not all of the fighting was to come from the political heavy weights, the new opposition came in a large brown envelope included in a pile of mail that came to his office. Seated at his desk at R.A.G. Headquarters he opened the envelope and pulled out a single piece of cardboard having one five lettered word written upon it, using letters that were carefully cut from a newspaper it spelt DEATH.    

The shock sent him reeling and he sat for what seemed an eternity gazing into space, then the telephone beside him rang. Startled by the intrusion he was propelled backwards in his chair almost upending him through the large opened window directly behind him. Still shaking from the content of the letter and the near miss with the window he picked up the handpiece and it slipped from his grasp. His hands were wet with perspiration so he wiped them on the leg of his pants and reached for the handset. He brought it to his ear and heard a voice at the other end simply say to leave the party and forget the politics. This was the end of the conversation and the caller hung up, a dial tone reverberated into Rory’s ear.

It took some time before Rory could shake off his reverie and return to reality, he suddenly felt claustrophobic and hastily gathered a few items and briskly walked to his car in the car park, got in and drove off.   

Rory McLaughlan came face to face with a different Rory McLaughlan that night as he sat in his car parked upon a summit that overlooked the beautiful city of Adelaide. It had been daylight when he arrived and now it was well into the night when he realised he had been sitting alone for hours soul searching. In a man’s lifetime he has to make many decisions some of them difficult or involving other people, a marriage, a home, a career or children, then there were the minor decisions that would simply arise on a day to day basis, but it is not often that a man would have to make the choice between life or death. 

Some time later Rory had come to a decision, now he had to go home and convince his wife that it was the right one. This was not going to be easy as she was of a similar character to Rory stubborn and pig-headed, he smiled to himself as he thought of the loving and caring wife that he knew well. Rory’s smile was temporary, as he desperately desired Divine intervention as the realism of the situation was brought sharply into focus; this woman’s scorn was about to hurt.   

The drive home was slow that night as his spirit, mind and soul were in disarray feeling depressed and confused. His wife upon his arrival opened the front door of their home and she saw in Rory’s face that there was something that he had to tell her. Rory held his wife in his arms and humbly wept, not for the situation he was now facing but for the shame that he had felt. How could he have even thought of denying the faith that he had recently gained through the Lord Jesus Christ, when Rory and his wife had become born again Christians?

Silently sobbing he held his wife for a long time then amongst the tears that cascaded down his cheeks he told her about the letter, the unidentified caller on the telephone and finally the hours spent parked in his car overlooking Adelaide when he had finished he bowed his head not in shame but in exhaustion. She lovingly caressed and tenderly kissed her Scottish champion and that night as if it were to be their last act of intimacy, they lay together in each other’s arms until the morning light.     

The early morning light had brought the bird’s singing as if to assist the sun’s rising for the new day and their sounds combined to make an orchestral masterpiece that was all silently conducted by God Himself. The sounds wafted through an open bedroom window and Rory and his wife’s pet canary sang in glorious harmony with the others. Rory was still in bed laying next to his wife and thought if only this moment of total serenity would last forever but Rory knew that a war was raging and he had to fight the good fight.

His wife would fully support him and his decision even though she understood the consequences but to Rory’s relief she had also realised that the battle lines were drawn, there was to be no compromise, no giving of ground to the enemy as too many children’s futures were at stake. Young justice would be sought and God willing they would stand triumphant and the tyranny of this ‘bastard child’ would surely come to an end with the head of this beast lopped off, then this abomination would have its final resting place in the pit of hell.

The choir of the birds had begun to subside, as the morning grew older being replaced by a dominant bustling of city noise. After breakfast Rory was ready to leave for the Office and as he hugged his wife goodbye, both were reluctant to release their embrace.     

The regular route Rory took to work in the morning seemed to take longer than usual and although surrounded by the same scenery, it began to pale insignificantly compared to his keen awareness of the little things that had come sharply into focus. An old saying came to Rory’s mind about people who hurry through life and ‘don’t stop to smell the roses’ and wondered if that was happening to him. It was amazing he thought because it had taken a death threat to make him realise the value of the little things in life and to slow down and take notice, he smiled to himself.

Rory had a caring heart and his work with children from all walks of life had required a person with these qualities but there was something more which was being digested in Rory’s heart at that moment, a realisation of a love, more richer, more deeper and a more meaningful love, one that was beginning to take root deep within his soul. It seemed odd that it should come so alive now just as he was about to confront death.

Rory began to see things in a different way and after some thought he decided that it would be difficult to put into words the sensation or feeling he was experiencing should he be asked to explain it, but he wanted to find the right words so he could share them with his wife. Perhaps an analogy he thought, similar to describing the brilliant colours of nature to a blind man who needed the gift of sight so that he could fully appreciate the magnificence of the world around him. Rory felt like that man who was blind and had received the gift of sight, it was as if he was seeing things for the first time.

Rory’s feelings were like a two edged sword, one edge contained these feelings that bubbled up with child like exuberance that had a passion for life springing up like a well of living water and where his memories flooded in of his own boyhood when life was simple and carefree.

The other edge contained an executioner’s blade and it brought him back to reality and to the situation, in fact the gravity of the situation.      

Rory pulled his Holden Commodore to a halt at an intersection’s stoplights and noticed children playing ball in an adjacent park. He reflected on the decision he had made and thought those children could very well be the future sports champions of Australia. How could he have made any other choice? It was back to work and the campaign trail thinking victory instead of defeat, Rory McLaughlan the redheaded Scotsman began lecturing himself to blow on the coals within him, reigniting the fire in his belly and by this he grew in strength.     

He had drawn the battle lines of war and now he was going to cross them and charge head on into the enemy’s camp. The excitement within his soul was becoming electrifying when he heard a firm but gentle voice within his spirit say, “Take no prisoners”. Yes Rory thought, how could he given any thought to running away and hiding from his faith in Jesus. How could he live with himself knowing he had refused to help set the country free from this ‘bastard child’? The mark of this beast would not be branded onto the young flesh of Australian youth if Rory had his way.

Even if he were to die in this battle, then so be it. The people of Australia would at least hear his battle cry and he prayed to God Almighty that should he die, someone else would pick up the Australian flag and carry on the fight until the war was won.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

After the interviews were completed Rory headed to his Office and saw the light of the answering machine flashing that was on his desk, he pressed rewind on the machine and proceeded to make himself a coffee. As the messages began to play he sat down with his coffee to listen to each when one in particular caught his attention, it was brief and to the point and suggested he should telephone his wife without delay.

Rory felt the blood drain from his face he had heard that voice before, it was the same voice that had told him to leave the party and the politics. He had been elated from the victory he had experienced with the Australian people in gaining their support for the youth's protection against the paedophilia, but now his heart took a spiral dive towards earth like a plane out of control. Rory was shaking uncontrollably.   

Rory wasted no time and nervously dialled his home number and heard the same voice acknowledge his call. Unconsciously he had tightly gripped the arm of his chair engulfed by concern for his wife's safety. His heart was beating fiercely as the voice told him to back off or he would know the consequences.

Rory did not have to be a genius to realise that he was at the mercy of this stranger who rasped through the telephone giving him caustic instructions that sounded like hissing like sulphuric acid. 

 

'Raven' was once again in control as a representative of evil where he had righteousness pinned to the mat and saw Rory going down for the count. 'Raven' loved his victim's to squirm with indecision, as Rory would be doing now as he wrestled with his conscience.

Rory was still seated at his desk when the line went dead and just as Rory replaced the receiver in its cradle the similitude of two missionaries entered his office. There's a light at the end of the tunnel after all thought Rory when he looked up to see the two Detectives who were involved in the investigation of David, Lola Duvwar and James Marden. Rory was mistaken as that light became the light of an oncoming train when one of the Detectives drew his service revolver out of its holster and with his podgy thumb pulled back the hammer aiming the weapon directly at Rory's forehead. The two Detectives were looming in the background all along and McLaughlan had never seen it but then he had no reason to suspect them. They were like wolves in sheep's clothing but at least his gut feeling about not calling the Police had been correct or was it a prompting from his Maker, no doubt all these questions and more would soon be answered he thought, as any moment it would be time to meet his Father in heaven.    

The Detectives advised Rory to be smart and follow their instructions implicitly as they motioned for him to follow them quietly.

Once they were outside of the R.A.G. Headquarters Rory was pushed into the rear of an unmarked Police vehicle where one Detective sat beside him with the barrel of the service revolver firmly pressed against his rib cage while the other drove. Pulling away from the curb they headed in the direction of Rory's home and as they drove Rory thought, how ironic this journey home was to be much quicker than the one he had taken to his Office no more than an hour earlier.  

They were driving past the familiar landmarks of the River Torrens that had always seemed picturesque and serene to Rory but now it was to refresh his memory of things he had thought were long forgotten. The Beaumont children, whom Police had believed, were abducted and presumed dead, had the Torrens dredged and finally fully drained in the search for them. When was that he thought, in the sixties or seventies he couldn't remember. Would Rory be another mystery death like the parliamentary leader Harold Holt of whom some say paid the price for being an honest man? Perhaps Rory's body would never be found as with Azaria Chamberlain whose tiny body some say could have been concealed under a blanket of bitumen. It had crossed his mind that they may take him further north and there to dispose of his body down the many mineshafts that littered the area. He thought of cement boots and being tossed in the waters of the Port more likely as it was closer, to end like James Marden as another accident victim.     

Rory's mind was racing as he thought of the many means of death that were at their disposal. He felt as if he was shaking uncontrollably but he checked himself and saw that it wasn't obvious to the Detective beside him. Beads of perspiration had gathered on his forehead and formed into droplets that rolled over his eyebrows and into his eyes, he refused to wipe them clear with the firmly clenched fists that were laying on his lap as this action may be sufficient for the trigger to be squeezed, ending it all in the back seat of the car.

Rory had to gain control of these erratic thoughts and begin to think more clearly, he took deeper breaths into his chest cavity and his lungs accepted it with glee. Rory avoided eye contact with his captor and also with the driver through the rear vision mirror and found this worked as his heart began to slow in pace. For a moment he closed his eyes and desired for all that was happening to him to simply disappear then one thought came strongly to him, God save me.      

'Come on get a grip on yourself' was the cry from Rory's inner man, 'what can you do?' Rory then made a crucial decision that if given a chance no matter how small he was going to take it, his time on this earth could only be for another thirty minutes or maybe one hour at the most. Rory decided to follow his gut feeling it had been right before and he had absolutely nothing to lose. He hoped it would pay off, as he was not in a position to bargain, he needed a miracle.     

The unmarked Police car was now heading along Port Road towards Port Adelaide where Marden had met his end. The Detective became impatient as he drove through the usual heavy traffic and placed his magnetic siren upon the roof of the car and with it sounding he accelerated around the main stream of traffic.      

The Detective was totally unprepared for an elderly lady who appeared from nowhere and was driving an even older little blue Ford Prefect, as it crossed the path of their vehicle they swerved violently to avoid impact which allowed Rory to wrestle for the revolver. During the ensuing struggle the revolver discharged and the bullet entered the back of the head of the Detective who was driving.

Rory and the remaining Detective continued to struggle in the rear seat as the out of control car went crashing through a safety railing and plummeted down an embankment. It rolled several times before coming to rest on its four wheels at the base of a huge Moreton Bay Fig tree where the front of the car had imbedded itself.

The steam gushed from the crumpled front of the vehicle and shattered glass was throughout the interior. There was a silence within the vehicle and it was then Rory realised something he was still alive! Through blurred vision and a pounding head which stemmed from a cut to the right of his forehead Rory could find no other injury, he was bleeding from the wound but it was minimal.     

Looking around cautiously he saw the Detective with whom he had been struggling was unconscious and sprawled on top of him. Their bodies were entangled and it appeared to Rory that the Detectives had shielded his body from the worst of the accident. Looking around Rory saw the dead driver and noticed there was money, lots of it flying loosely in and around the car. Rory knew it was being discharged from some area of the vehicle but he could not see where, he had to disentangle himself from the heavy weight of the unconscious Detective so he could have a better look. He could not believe how much money was here and as his eyes began to focus he reached for a few notes to verify if they were real, they were.

He wasn't imagining the money nor the voices that were growing louder to his ears, he peered through the glassless rear window and saw the onlookers scaling down the embankment heading towards him, Rory may have felt dazed but he knew it was time to escape. Working feverishly to remove the rest of the unconscious body he managed to open the rear door and slide out, Rory's legs were weak and shaky but he thanked God that nothing was broken.

Using the vehicle to pull himself into a standing position he saw a briefcase containing the money in the front of the vehicle, most had remained firmly clasped into bundles and only a few had broken loose and those were floating around the interior. Rory grabbed the briefcase through the shattered passenger side window and firmly tucked it under his arm; all the while the onlookers were coming closer and closer.

Rory needed to buy some time to get away from these helpful people and reached into the briefcase to remove a few bundles of notes; breaking them free of their clasps he threw them into the air. The gentle breeze wafted them away from him and the car and counting on human greed to take precedence rather than to assist the dead, or unconscious or alternatively to chase some lunatic down the road who just threw ten thousand or more dollars into the air they dived hungrily for the notes that flew towards them allowing Rory to get away.     

Rory was wandering through the stormwater drains of a suburb in Port Adelaide, he knew he was close to home and had to think of how to get his beloved wife out of the clutches of this man. This man was no street junkie or small time hoodlum as he first thought, he had a touch of class and Rory suspected an organization behind him as this man was in the know and was obviously being used by someone higher up.

The wily Scotsman began to employ his many years of streetwise wisdom and methodically placed the known facts in order.

The intruder in his home was working for someone at the top of organised crime for two very good reasons, the first being the two Detectives who seemed to be at the beck and call of someone of higher rank and secondly, the very large sum of money found in the unmarked Police car.

Rory didn't flatter himself thinking that the money was a payoff for his wife's and his demise there had to be another reason for this amount of money but as to that reason he wasn't sure. Rory felt sure that the man who was holding his wife would not do anything until he had the money safely in his hands.    

A plan of attack had to be formulated and quickly as time was running out, this man would be expecting the Detectives and himself to arrive at his house soon. Somehow he had to get an upper hand on this unknown man on the telephone then it occurred to him that he could telephone his home and make a few demands of his own. Rory had to take the chance and call his bluff as time was now of the essence, he prayed that this man wanted this briefcase and its contents more than wanting his wife or him. A lot was at stake but Rory could think of no other options and he still wasn't all that sure of whom he could trust.

Surely there were honest Police out there somewhere, Rory silently questioned but there was no time to deliberate on this issue he was thinking of his wife and wanted her out of the clutches of this man.

A telephone box located a couple of streets from his home provided the means to put his plan into action. He first rang the Port Adelaide Taxi Company, then the Police on their emergency number and stated that a crazed gunman was holding his wife hostage and Rory stated the known facts to the Officer who took his call. He had to place his faith in the Law Enforcement system even though that faith was being stretched to its limits. Fortunately the Officer who was now listening to Rory had heard about him being blackmailed on the radio as he drove to work that morning and as the Officer took the details he said that they would move quickly. Some of the Officer's within the precinct knew of Rory's work with the homeless and misguided youth and had gained their respect on social reform. The Officer advised him to keep well clear and to leave this matter to the experts and as much as Rory wanted to protect his wife he knew he had to obey, so he agreed knowing they would employ the Tactical Response Team to his address.

'Raven' glanced through the lace curtains that covered a window of Rory's home he was concerned at the amount of time that had elapsed since the telephone call Rory had placed to him but decided to remain calm as there may have been a delay at McLaughlan's Office or maybe the distance having to contend with the morning's heavy peak hour traffic.

Another five minutes was all 'Raven' would give them then he would move to another stronghold. 'Raven' was used to tight schedules and living on the edge and his animal instincts had more than once saved him and kept him on top.      

Rory was now on a tight schedule of his own as prearranged by the Officer, they were about to assist one another. The taxi Rory ordered had arrived and he jumped in giving a friend's address a block away from his own home. As the taxi pulled up out the front of the house he threw the driver enough money to more than amply pay his fare and ran for the door. He heard the telephone ringing inside and the redheaded Scotsman burst through the door yelling that the call was for him, his friend's sat dumbfounded by the outburst but were unable to question Rory as he was engaged in conversation with the Officer. Rory was instructed to ring his home in exactly two minutes when they would be ready to spring into action; he was to engage the man in conversation regarding the money and his wife. Rory hung up and looked at his watch then at his friend's who were sitting wide eyed and staring at him, he had two minutes in which to tell them briefly of what was happening and to assure them he would pay for the damage to the door as well as the phone call he was about to make.

Perspiration was coming from every pore of Rory's flesh as the time ticked slowly by, he faced his back towards his friends to look at his watch and to pick up the receiver nervously he dialled home. The telephone began to ring and ring and Rory was becoming alarmed that it was not picked up. Twenty seconds had passed, thirty seconds, finally it was acknowledged and the man's voice answered. Right at that moment Rory heard what sounded through the earpiece as all hell breaking loose in his home, he dropped the telephone and bolted through his friend's door that was now relying on one hinge for support. Rory had left as he had entered.      

Rory ran up the street and towards home with a speed that any sprinter would envy and arrived at his driveway where the Tactical Response Team thwarted his entry momentarily. He passed through their blockade only to see the end result of all the commotion that he had heard over the telephone. 'Raven' lay face down with his hands behind his back as one of the Tactical Response Team sat astride him preparing to handcuff the felon's hands together. Police who had accompanied the Tactical Team were still on alert with firearms drawn while others were beginning to holster their weapon the siege was over.

Rory seized the opportunity to comfort his wife who was crying uncontrollably, gently he held her in his arms and they both cried in relief. Their ordeal was over but 'Raven' was about to begin his.     

The hunter had now become the hunted as 'Raven' was unceremoniously bundled into an awaiting Police vehicle and for the first time 'Raven' had been thrown into chains. Then in a wink of an eye was whisked away to the Police Station where he was finger printed, photographed, then the echoing sound of a prison cell door being slammed shut with the rattling of jailer's keys in the lock that was to secure him in his cage. 

'Raven' was immediately claustrophobic in the cell having never had his freedom restricted before he was like a trapped beast and the rage was revealed in his eyes. He gripped the iron bars and shook them but they were immovable and the effort only weakened him yet when he had recovered he tried again and again.      

An hour or more later when the Police considered 'Raven' had cooled sufficiently he was escorted by heavily guarded Police to a room for interrogation, here 'Raven' was confronted by two very tall and solidly built Detectives who showed no emotion and their faces appeared to be sculptured from granite. 'Raven' also noted the body size of both was similar in appearance to a wharfie and they were definitely not connected with Bentennelli or they would know to back off with any interrogation. One word came to the mind of 'Raven' as an apt description of these two and he visualised that word written as an invisible tattoo on their forehead spelling M.E.A.N. No doubt their Christian names had to be 'Evil' and 'Wicked' because it certainly fitted.

'Raven' began to crumble under their probing looks as well as their overwhelming size and knew he had met his match. 'Ravens' tongue was as dry as sandpaper but managed to swallow what little moisture remained and it convulsed in his throat. The positions had been reversed it was 'Raven' who was now the victim instead of the hunter.

'Ravens' legs wanted to give way and thought at any moment he would collapse on to the floor when he was ordered to sit down and as his hands had been handcuffed in the front he chose to place them on his lap rather than on the table.

'Raven' did not want to look into the eyes of the two gorilla type Detectives but soon found that he had no option as the small room was largely consumed by the two immense framed gargantuan who had begun to bark questions at him and he was given no time to think as each question came fast and furious. 'Raven' uttered one word 'Lawyer' to the disgust of the two Detectives because they knew even this poor excuse for a human being had rights so they granted his one call; sometimes they hated this contemptuous system. 'Raven' telephoned Bentennelli.     

The telephone rang in Benjamin Strickland's Office and when he picked up the receiver he heard the voice of the man he dreaded, Antonio Bentennelli. He voiced his usual authority and gave his brief and strict instructions to get this man out of jail at any cost then hung up.

The order had been given and Benjamin knew the price for any disobedient action or even to fail to do what was expected of him, he had to get this man out at any cost and it meant exactly that as his life could be a part of that cost should he fail. Today more than any other Benjamin regretted becoming a member of the 'Club'.      

Bail was set at seventy five thousand dollars and was hotly disputed by the Prosecutor owing to the violent nature of the crime and the fact the defendant who was supposedly here on business could abscond while on bail and flee the country. The Judge addressed the Court in a usual regal manner and said he understood the Prosecutor's points and would take them into consideration when he gave his verdict.

The Judge ruled in favour of showing mercy to the accused and gave consideration to the account given by Strickland and the fact of the defendant’s clean record saw 'Raven' on bail.

The Judge made stipulations to the bail where 'Raven' was to appear daily to the Clerk of the Court and conditions stipulated a surrender of his Passport until his Case was heard. Benjamin Strickland breathed a sigh of relief and was more than pleased with the outcome, as he knew his life depended upon this Judge believing the fabricated account he had given.

The Case was adjourned to another date where it would be heard and the sentence given by the Right Honourable Judge Walter Thomas Borthwick.

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

He would now have to rearrange his schedules, postpone the assassination of the Premier for even longer and to persuade him to put off spilling his guts to the whole country. Decisions would have to be made quickly, boldly and perhaps dangerously all because of some redheaded, Bible bashing, save the children, fanatical Scotsman. For Bentennelli to say he was not having a good day was an understatement, Antonio was pissed off!      

Rory McLaughlan had just received a telephone call at his Office from one of the wharfie Detectives who had interrogated ‘Raven’ and told him the results of the Court proceedings. The Detective advised Rory to take safety precautions and offered aid for him and his wife under the witness protection plan, he left his contact number with Rory before hanging up. 

Rory’s response to the telephone conversation was battle stations, he would have to work out the why’s and wherefore’s later of the ‘Ravens’ release but for the moment it was every man for himself as this time he was on common ground with his hunter. Then a thought came to him that perhaps he shouldn’t be on common ground but higher one and maybe if he could be so bold as to say, Holy ground. Yes he thought that was it!

Rory and his wife were recently born into the faith and their Pastor said that anytime they might need counselling, guidance, prayer or just a chat their door would always be open. The Pastor would never in his wildest dreams have imagined what Rory and his wife’s first counselling session was to entail but true to his word, the Pastor in a sense gave them shelter from the storm that raged in Rory’s mind.   

Fear not, became the one reoccurring thought that inspired Rory as he climbed slowly to the top of the mountain range that the city of Adelaide nestled against, the beautiful city’s lights were glistening with exhilarating flickering fragments of the many colours of the spectrum.

There was inner peace with Rory that night as he quietly negotiated the ranges, thinking to himself that it was strange that the sense of wellbeing became stronger through the times of adversity, his wife may have agreed with him had she been awake but she was asleep in the seat beside him.

The steep incline had taken its toll on Rory’s reliable but tired Holden Commodore as it groaned into the driveway of their homely hideaway. He parked in the garage next to the home and turning off the ignition he fumbled in his trouser pocket for the key to the little cottage retreat. The Pastor and his wife used the cottage as a holiday home whenever they felt the need for a quiet place of solitude when the pressure became too much. The Pastor had said it was a good place to pray and get hold of God and Rory reflected on that statement and thought now might be a good time to have that extra padding sewn into knees of his trousers.

The little cottage was nestled in the ranges just outside the township of Sterling. A picturesque area adorned with levels of natural beauty, free flowing mountain streams, moss covered rocky crevices and cliff faces. The landscape and architecture had an English flavour with neat country Hotels which seemed more like Taverns with their wide open fire hearths giving atmosphere and warmth to the weary traveller during the cold winters.    

To escape the hustle and bustle was exactly what Rory needed right now and the area reminded him of his childhood as a small boy in the highlands of Scotland before he moved to Glasgow for schooling. Later he was to immigrate to Australia, which to Rory had seemed a long time ago but a move he never regretted even now, although there would always be a warm place in his heart for his Scotland. Rory gathered his thoughts and decided now was not the time for reminiscing it was a time for clear-headed action. He had brought all the necessary equipment he was going to need when he arrived and from this mountain fortress built upon a rocky outcrop of natural beauty he was ready to plan his attack. Rory was ready for battle.     

Streams of morning light filtered through the shutter board windows inside the cottage and minute particles of dust floated carelessly towards the equipment Rory had placed in the lounge room, which he had prepared as a photographic studio. The walls were of a bluestone rock eighteen inches thick giving the home a solid strength and enhancing its inner warmth, curios had been collected from all over the world by the owners and had been placed strategically around the room to give inspiration to any poet or playwright.   

The idyll surroundings would not distract Rory from the job at hand as he continued his campaign utilising the equipment he had available. A cheap and unglorified campaign thought Rory but weren’t all Scotsmen renown for being a penny wise and tight-fisted; he smiled tongue in cheek and almost laughed aloud. Low budget films he thought ah, they should ask a Scot! If they want to know anything they should ask a Scot. Uncontrollably Rory burst into fits of laughter at his own brand of humour and obvious lack of humility.      

Rory assembled the lighting, tested the video taping and timing equipment being compelled by two little words to keep on going ‘Fear Not!’ and with this in the forefront of his mind he worked diligently to devour a mountain of paperwork and to compile a manuscript he would read when the video camera recorded. Technology had come a long way in the last twenty or so years as he pondered, could man possibly be outsmarted in the new millennium. The little bug named millennium could prove to be man’s Achilles heel and only time would tell 2000 was just around the corner.      

All was in readiness to enter the enemy’s camp; Rory was to air his recorded message at prime time to the nation with the costs charged to the Church. 

Rory was astonished when he recently discovered a few demonic based Churches had funded this movement of heresy that saw a nation sit back in awe as it witnessed the birth of this Satanic ‘child’, thinking it was acceptable to God because it happened to be the nineties and surely God did not live in the dark ages. In a Democratic society there were still the twisted and perverted individuals who carried this theme of ‘right to life’ to a sickening and mutated form, thought Rory.

A movement of God has to sweep this nation for all the children of God to come together as one Holy army to fight this demonic plague of Lucifer’s love child that was beginning to spread throughout the nation. Each and every church of God across the nation would have to tithe and gather together every widow’s mite to fight against this oppressor; it was time for the cry to go out with the bugler sounding charge! It was time for war.     

The message would be televised throughout all of Australia over every television network and over every major radio station. The children who had succumbed to the tyranny of the beast and the blood from those who had fallen victim and died at the hands of this monster cried out for justice from the grave. The tears of many had to be recompensed and the deep lashes of this satanic monster that had cut into the backs of the young of this nation had need of a saviour. Vengeance would be taken for the destroyed lives of the Australian youth, past, present and those of future generations where finally they would be set free for all time.

‘Raven’ had ideas of his own standing victoriously over a grisly scene that laid before him the latest in his work of art. This particular kill gave him a special pleasure and one of keen satisfaction as he drooled over his two latest victims. The first victim was the driver who had fallen sideways by the impact and was now lying on the lap of the passenger; the second victim had slumped forward with his head poised precariously on the dash. The force of the projectile that had gone through the head of the driver his intended victim had entered also into the passenger. What a touching moment, he thought as the well-known sinister smile came to his drawn face. A real touch of class with a brilliance that was only unique to ‘Raven’, he suppressed a laugh he had gotten two for the price of one. The two gorillas from the interrogation room at Port Adelaide Police Station on surveillance at Rory’s house had been eliminated.

‘Raven’ unscrewed the silencer from his handgun and meticulously repacked it into its crushed velvet lined case and snapped the locks shut with his thumbs. He reached into the Detective’s car and borrowed their binoculars knowing they wouldn’t mind as ‘Raven’ sarcastically smiled and bid them adieu.    

His focus was now on the cottage where he noticed some movement and saw Rory and his wife walking and talking together as they headed for the Holden Commodore. Rory’s wife was writing something and it appeared that she was going to do some shopping and put her bag into the car. Good, thought ‘Raven’ that will make this job easier without her around. They kissed each other longingly and just as ‘Raven began to grow impatient with their pathetic goodbyes she got into the car and drove off. Rory looked a contented man as he walked with a padded envelope tucked under his arm and headed for what seemed to be the Post Office. ‘Raven’ knew it had to be the video that he had seen them taping last night through the night scope. He could have taken Rory last night but their taping had not been completed until just before dawn so ‘Raven’ wisely decided that he could wait a little longer for his revenge. He wanted daylight to see this so-called Christian squirm and beg for mercy like all of the his victims and he wanted the pleasure of seeing him grovel for his miserable life like a mongrel dog. ‘Raven’ remembered his first and only experience in jail and knew Rory was to blame. He had underestimated Rory and he would not make that same mistake again.     

Oh, how sweet this one would be thought ‘Raven’ as he watched Rory walk through a park humming some tune. Rory felt at peace with the world as he bathed in the warmth of the spring morning, one where a person knew that it was great to be alive with the clean brisk air stimulating all of one’s senses with life. The morning sun took the chill out of the air and a gentle breeze delicately drifted across Rory’s face as it carried the aroma of beautiful perfumed flowers to his eager nostrils.     

The township of Sterling retained the quiet atmosphere of a country town and as the energetic Scot walked briskly across the large park that would lead him to the Post Office he heard muffled footsteps behind him growing louder closing the distance rapidly. Rory turned to see why someone should be hurrying when an excruciating pain ripped through his right knee that crippled him and as he fell he turned to face this murderous nemesis eye to eye. The man’s eyes revealed there was no love lost between them but the same could be said for Rory although his was more of not knowing what he had done to deserve the wrath of this ‘Angel of Death’.    

It really didn’t matter why he wanted him dead but as far as Rory was concerned he wasn’t about to make a plea for his own life, but if he was going to die then it had better be soon because they were in a relative openness of the park and someone would be passing sooner or later. Rory held this thought in a hope of blocking the pain when another seared through his left knee and saw it shatter before his eyes. Rory desperately sought unconsciousness to escape the pain in his legs when suddenly a calmness and peacefulness descended, to envelope his whole being.   

Rory was now on his back and he used his arms to prop himself into a position to be eye to eye with his killer. He noticed the shattered bones and the blood flowing freely from his open leg wounds with its nerves quivering and pulsating uncontrollably. Rory’s body remained enveloped in a powerful peacefulness and unperturbed he began to sing what he had been humming earlier but this time he replaced the humming with the words of the song.

‘Amazing grace, How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me’, another bullet went through his right shoulder and Rory was catapulted backwards with the force, his eyes looking into the open sky as his right hand twitched on the gravel footpath. Miraculously he pushed himself up with his left hand and continued his singing. ‘I was once lost but now I’m found t’was blind but now I see’. With this verse dripping from his lips it was mingled with blood. ‘Raven’ began to feel unnerved with the audacity of this man as his past victims had begged and grovelled for their miserable lives but this man sang songs, he lifted the gun took aim over the end of the silencer and sighting it between Rory’s eyes nervously pulled the trigger.

Rory’s lifeless body convulsed backwards and ‘Raven’ knew it was over.

‘Raven’ walked the short distance to the lifeless body of Rory and stood near in awe of this man that lay dead before him. There was a difference with this man because even in death this redheaded freedom fighter from Scotland had earned ‘Ravens’ respect. ‘Raven’ wasn’t the emotional type but knew Rory had died willingly, strongly believing in what he was doing was right and there wasn’t many men ‘Raven’ knew who would honestly say they would die for a cause they believed in, but then ‘Raven’ didn’t know too many men who were honest.    

It was time for ‘Raven’ to make haste and glanced around before kneeling beside Rory’s corpse to collect the video, as he picked up the package he raised one finger to his forehead in a respectful salute before he walked swiftly to the Police vehicle, removing the tracking device he had attached earlier and sped off in his own vehicle.

There were now no loose ends as ‘Raven’ was in possession of the video that he would send to Coober Pedy by Special Courier where Antonio Bentennelli would be more than glad to receive it. Solid alibis had been established earlier to include the daily reporting to the Clerk of Courts, everything had been taken into consideration as ‘Raven’ dismantled his shooter piece by piece and strategically dumped each into a pristine area called the Chain of Ponds.

The date of ‘Ravens’ trial was looming and was about to be thrown out of Court through insufficient evidence with Judge Borthwick’s assistance. ‘Raven’ would have his Passport returned and be paid by Bentennelli then he would take a first class flight to Italy. 

Australia was remorseful after losing their champion who was one of their own, a battler, a worker, a quiet achiever and a friend of the children who had been cut down in such a fashion. The Politicians reacted as expected and gave speeches on how much Rory would be missed because he showed a zeal for his cause and someone may even erect a statue in remembrance to Rory McLaughlan with a brass plaque that simply stated,

Man of Love, Man of Faith and crowned King of the Kids.