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    Atomic Blonde
    Atomic Blonde
    Atomic Blonde
    Ebook346 pages5 hours

    Atomic Blonde

    By Drew Lindsay

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    About this ebook

    She’s blonde and beautiful. She’s wild and unpredictable. She’s mentally fragile, unstable and abused. She’s highly skilled in nuclear fission technology and knows how to build an atomic bomb. Fanatics will use her in order to destroy one of the largest cities in Australia and cause catastrophic loss of life. When her rebellious social life leads to club brawls, Ben Hood is hired to keep her out of trouble. Ben is assured it’s just another simple VIP protection job. They should have hired someone else.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDrew Lindsay
    Release dateDec 14, 2013
    ISBN9781310101793
    Atomic Blonde
    Author

    Drew Lindsay

    Drew Lindsay is a dynamic Australian Novelist and Writer. He has travelled extensively throughout Australia and the world. His background includes working as a Policeman and detective, then managing his own private investigation business as well as working in Fraud Investigation Management positions within the insurance industry.Drew is a PADI Divemaster and holds a private pilot's license. He has a great love of entertaining others with his vivid imagination. His novels allow the reader to escape into worlds of romance, excitement, humour and fast paced adventure. Drew lives in northern New South Wales with his wife.

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      Book preview

      Atomic Blonde - Drew Lindsay

      CHAPTER ONE

      Five hundred kilometres off the east coast of Mozambique in Africa, across the Mozambique Channel, lies the substantial island of Madagascar. A further thousand kilometres east of Madagascar, remotely located in the vast Indian Ocean, is the much smaller but bustling French island of Reunion. This island’s history is shrouded in mystery because of its isolation and it has been named and renamed many times depending on who took control of this mountainous and exotic paradise measuring only 63 kilometres long by 45 kilometres wide. Reunion closely resembles some of the Hawaiian Islands and boasts an occasional active volcano at its eastern end which towers almost 3,000 metres above sea level.

      The multicultural nature of this island is responsible for the naming of streets such as Rue Charles Dickens and Rue Walt Disney, although most of the streets and road names are of French influence. Two men sat in the back of a small French café on Rue Walt Disney. The room was dimly lit with cigarette smoke being swirled around by two grubby ceiling fans. The café had been designated a non smoking area, but most of the patrons smoked so the rules were ignored. Both men wore casual clothing. One was a white South African in his early 50’s. His name was Kenneth Redman. He skippered a 30 metre Australian registered cruiser named My Joy. This vessel was moored at the nearby Port de Plaisance, just off Rue Bertholet. Captain Redman had rugged, sunburnt features with long white hair, tied back in a pony tail. He was around 5 feet 9 inches tall and of muscular build. He was a fanatical convert to a radical Muslim group known as Al-Qaeda.

      The second man was of Arabic appearance although he claimed to be a citizen of South Africa and was also in possession of a British passport. His name is not important. The vessel which had transported him to Reunion Island was also moored at Port de Plaisance. Items aboard his vessel were currently being moved on board My Joy, under the cover of darkness. The items were carried carefully, as was instructed, although the labourers had no real idea what they were transferring. Some suspected drugs although the shoebox size containers were quite heavy. Others didn’t even speculate as they were being paid well and speculation could lead to death in their particular game.

      Captain Redman slid a briefcase to his companion. ‘You can’t count it here. You will have to take my word.’

      ‘I will accept your word Habib.’

      ‘I don’t like to be called Habib if you don’t mind.’

      ‘That’s okay Mr. Redman. I know how to find you.’

      ‘Not for the next couple of weeks you don’t.’

      ‘Your employer, Mr. Jackson, is well known. He has paid a lot of money for this cargo and the risks are great. I just hope you know what you’re doing or you’ll all go up in a cloud of smoke.’

      ‘We know what we’re doing.’

      ‘It’s for a worthy cause.’

      ‘I know,’ said Redman.

      ‘What if you are stopped in Australian waters?’

      ‘I operate an Australian surveyed pleasure cruiser. I’m not initially approaching any major Australian port and I obey all their stupid regulations. Their control of the oceans around Australia is laughable to say the least. I’ve been in and out without challenge so many times. The government bureaucrats are so interested in protecting their particular areas of control that they can rarely get their acts together. Once this operation is completed, they’ll probably do something to tighten things up, but for the time being their smart arse risk management academics set the rules without any real appreciation of national security. It’s a piece of cake.’

      ‘We will await the news of your success with great anticipation,’ said the Arabic man. May Allah go with you.’

      ‘And you,’ said Redman.

      ‘I must compliment you on your choice of crew Captain Redman.’

      ‘You’re obviously talking about the girls.’

      ‘They are very pleasing to the eye.’

      ‘That’s why they are on board and paid quite a lot of money,’ said Redman. ‘If the Australian authorities come alongside, the girls jump up and down in their tiny bikinis, calling out and waving and the authorities usually smile and wave while they are chatting to me on the radio and then they go away. It’s worked before.’

      The Arabic man got to his feet. ‘I must be getting back to my cruiser. Thank you for the coffee. The cargo should be on your vessel by now and we will be on our way.’

      Redman shook the man’s hand and then watched as he clutched the briefcase tightly and left the café. He would wait 15 minutes, and then follow. The necessary equipment had been difficult and very expensive to procure but his employer was extremely wealthy. The difficult part now lay ahead and would only succeed if by luck and the hand of Allah, they could sail virtually undetected through the various security screens which the Australian Government had assembled in a fairly ad hoc manner over the years, in an effort to protect around 36,000 kilometres of Australian coastline.

      On the east coast of Australia, two men sat on deck chairs in the darkness, looking out from the side of a thickly wooded hill over the moonlit ocean and the pounding waves about 100 metres beneath them. ‘Australia has become lazy and arrogant because of their indifference to the sharia law, said a dark skinned African man. ‘Jihad will catch them by surprise because they are not prepared for anything. Rain and wind catch them by surprise and they scream for help when water leaks through their roofs or the power goes off.’

      Errol Jackson stubbed out his cigarette in a sand pot between the two men. ‘It is the element of surprise that we so desperately need for this operation to succeed,’ he said.

      ‘We have an easy target,’ said the black man. ‘They all think it could never happen here. It always happens in the USA or somewhere else. Their brains are weak and their leaders are too busy fighting with each other to be concerned about gaps in their national security.’

      ‘Hence the success of our last shipment into Queensland,’ said Jackson. ‘Three thousand guns quickly spread out into four states and a very comfortable profit.’

      ‘An easy target.’

      ‘The new plan will come at a great price,’ said Errol Jackson.

      ‘Those who agree to willingly die are prepared to die.’

      Jackson looked towards the sky and the Milky Way shinning brilliantly. ‘You are one of those prepared to die.’

      ‘I’ll go to a better place. I’ll leave behind a lesson for those who spit in our faces and try to destroy us.’

      The older man got to his feet. ‘Pray that Felicity’s memory remains intact. Pray that she will cooperate.’

      ‘She will cooperate,’ said the black man.

      ‘If she doesn’t, all is lost.’

      ‘She has cooperated in the past and she will again. This is my area of expertise.’

      Errol Jackson looked out at the blackness of the sea and the white line of waves tumbling onto the pure white sand. ‘We must now ensure even greater protection for her. She has developed a wildness that could be disastrous. Her anger against you has increased.’

      ‘I expected this,’ said the black man. ‘It makes it much more difficult for me to concentrate on what must be done.’

      ‘She is stronger than you anticipated,’ said Jackson.’ ‘I’m her stepfather and I have no control over her whatsoever anymore.’

      ‘It’s not just you and me. She’s angry and defensive with almost everyone connected with us.’

      ‘I’m not comfortable with this,’ said Jackson. ‘She could break down or worse. She is becoming more cunning in ways to avoid us. She stayed out an entire night last week.’

      ‘It’s a subconscious reaction,’ said the black man. ‘She doesn’t really know what she’s doing. She hardly knows who she is any more.’

      ‘Then we must hire someone who is independent of us, and devoted to watching her like a hawk and being paid well to keep her safe.’

      ‘Bodyguards are goof balls,’ said the black man.

      ‘Go up market. Get someone who escorts celebrities, and I don’t want some young buck. She’d have him for dinner.’

      ‘They’re all young bucks.’

      ‘Then shop around,’ said Jackson, walking to the balcony railing. ‘I also want guaranteed and absolute discretion by anyone we engage. The person will operate strictly within set boundaries.’

      ‘Of course. You know she will be extremely angry if we bring in someone to guard her.’

      ‘It’s necessary. It will distract her if nothing else. It will give her an outside target to pick on for a change.’

      ‘It’s an added risk,’ said the black man as he crushed out the remains of his cigarette in the sand pot.

      ‘We need to be free to concentrate on incoming cargo. I need her distracted and protected at the same time. We have no choice.’

      ‘I agree,’ said the black man. ‘I didn’t expect her to be so difficult to control.’

      Errol Jackson turned, tapping the side of his head. ‘You don’t really know what is going to happen when you interfere with a human brain. There’s a lot going on inside there, and especially with her.’

      The black man nodded. ‘It will be over soon. Allah-u Akbar.’

      ‘Yes, God is greatest,’ said Jackson.

      Ben Hood drove slowly along the cobblestone driveway to Rodney Reid’s front door. The huge steel gate rolled shut on a rail behind him. His grey Aston Martin V8 Roadster grumbled in a deep low roar at being held back under such restraint. Ben turned off the engine outside the main entrance, silencing further complaints from the mechanical beast. As usual, Rodney’s wife, Dr. Rose Reid, opened the front door and was down the steps before Ben had alighted from the vehicle. She hugged him and then stood back. ‘You’ve grown a beard! What did you grow a beard for?’

      ‘I’ve been bush for a month. Everyone in the bush grows a beard.’

      ‘Well I don’t like it. You had better shave it off. It makes you look like an old man.’

      Ben laughed. ‘I am an old man.’

      ‘You are barely in your fifties and fitter than any man I know,’ said Rose, locking an arm through his. ‘Now let’s go inside and frighten Rodney with your new look.’

      ‘It can’t be that bad?’

      ‘I don’t like beards. It makes me wonder what the man is trying to hide behind all that hair.’

      Ben stepped inside the familiar home.

      Ex New South Wales Australian Police Detective Sergeant Ben Hood had been basically forced to ‘retire’ from the police force for shooting a couple of criminals who were intent on killing him, or some other innocent persons. Police are issued with firearms in order to protect themselves and vulnerable members of the public they are paid to watch over, but God help any policeman who actually shoots a criminal, especially if they don’t kill the criminal. The wounded criminal will make up more tall tales than Hans Christian Anderson in order to explain why they should not have been shot in the first place.

      Ben had divorced two years ago and had given his home and most of his worldly possessions to his ex wife Fay. He lived for a while in a tiny flat in Mosman with a partial view of Sydney Harbour. More recently he had purchased a small farm on the outskirts of Windsor, northwest of Sydney and was enjoying a more relaxed lifestyle than he had ever known.

      Unlike most other men in Sydney or Australia for that matter, Ben owned a V8 Vantage Aston Martin Roadster. This late model monster went from 0 to 100 km/h in less than 5 seconds. 313 kw’s at max power. It had been a gift from a very grateful client whose daughter would have been dead if it hadn’t been for Ben. (Flesh Traders)

      Ben was a big man, 52 years old and over 6 feet tall. He was muscular and very fit notwithstanding his age, due to regular and often brutal workouts with his personal trainer and fighting mentor, Akira Misaki, and various opponents. He had spent many years learning the lifestyle and fighting ways of the Shin Obi Ninjutsu. He was extremely good at this ancient form of Japanese soldier fighting but something deep within, drove him to maintain his fighting skills, notwithstanding the fact that Ben felt his body wasn’t exactly keeping up with the stamina required to execute the skills. He speculated this was more psychological than physical but he was realistic. The human body can only retain strength and physical stamina for just so long. Eventually, age takes its toll. Akira’s biggest concern was that Ben’s acquired fighting skills were not married with the spiritual component that often accompanied and enhanced such skills. Akira often described Ben as a very special fighting machine, with no rudder to guide his skills in the appropriate direction.

      Rodney Reid was the Managing Director of a VIP Protection Company named predictably enough, ‘Security for Important People’. Ben had undertaken various assignments for Rodney since being asked to resign from the NSW Police Force. Rodney Reid’s home and office was set well back from the street in a leafy cul-de-sac in Castle Hill, an upper/middle class suburb northwest of Sydney. The house was double storeyed and clad in brilliant white weather board.

      Ben and Rodney had formed a rather special relationship during their relatively short time together. Rodney considered Ben to be his most valuable field operative, notwithstanding the regularly disastrous although usually successful results to each and every assignment.

      Rodney was an Australian guy in his mid 50’s. He had short grey hair and was slowly going bald. He was almost six feet tall and thanks to a recently imposed diet, was now quite trim rather than a touch overweight. He had recently married Dr. Rose Hendricks in an amazing wedding ceremony at Bora Bora in Tahiti. Ben was the Best Man.

      Rose had totally recovered from a gunshot wound and fairly major surgery. (Flesh Traders) She was required however, to remain on a special diet and Rose figured that if she had to be on it, Rodney could be also.

      Rose and Rodney had met under rather unusual circumstances. She was the resident surgeon at a large Sydney hospital about 10 years ago and Rodney and his mates got drunk one night and somehow Rodney’s right foot got dragged under a large four wheel drive vehicle and crushed beyond repair. Rose later amputated it. Rodney used a single crutch under his right arm and occasionally an artificial foot. His disability had almost no effect on his mobility.

      Rodney was lounging in the sunroom, as usual, reading the paper. He looked up as Ben and Rose walked into the room. ‘Good Lord in heaven! The wild man from Borneo.’

      ‘Rose says it makes me look old,’ said Ben.

      ‘You could have got it styled or something. The salt and pepper look isn’t in. Hair dyes my man.’

      ‘I’m allergic to hair dye.’

      ‘I’ll make coffee,’ said Rose. ‘I want to hear everything about your trip up north, so don’t say anything until I get back.’ She scurried back through a doorway into the kitchen.

      Ben sat down in a frangipani print lounge chair opposite Rodney. ‘I didn’t speak with a bloody soul for almost two weeks at one stage.’

      ‘Who did you talk to then?’

      ‘No one, other than myself.’

      ‘You must have driven yourself nuts!’

      ‘The opposite,’ said Ben. ‘That’s why I went away. I’ve been talking to far too many people.’

      ‘Well I don’t get a word in edge ways around here with Rose standing over me,’ said Rodney.

      ‘That’s not what she tells me,’ said Ben. ‘Being out bush is different anyway. You don’t even have to listen to anyone.’

      ‘You’re going weird mate.’

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Well you look a bit weird with that beard.’

      Rose came back into the room with a tray containing three coffee mugs and two plates of various kinds of biscuits. She set down the tray on a coffee table. Ben leaned forward and took hold of his coffee mug. Rose had a special one for him which featured a ceramic bikini clad girl hanging off the outer rim of the mug. She bought the mug as a way of having a bit of a go at him for associating with much younger women. Ben initially refused to drink from it, but eventually he decided to play Rose at her own game and demanded its use on every visit. He would occasionally run his finger over the bum of the bikini clad girl for even greater effect.

      ‘He spent two weeks not speaking with anyone or having to listen to anyone,’ said Rodney. ‘Can you believe that Rose?’

      ‘I did that when I lived up in the Northern Territory,’ she replied. ‘It was strange at first but I eventually got used to it.’

      ‘Until Ben and I arrived and saved your arse,’ said Rodney.

      Rose sipped her coffee. She gently placed the mug on a side table. ‘It’s his cultured turn of phrase that keeps me absolutely riveted to everything he says,’ she said, glancing at Ben.

      ‘He learns so much from all those big books in his office,’ said Ben.

      ‘He’s never touched one of them to my knowledge,’ said Rose.

      ‘That’s not true!’ said Rodney, reaching for the coffee mug which he had expected Rose to hand deliver. ‘I’ve read one or two.’

      ‘There’s over a thousand books in there my darling,’ said Rose.

      ‘They’re for my retirement.’

      ‘You retired years ago. Ben, Susan and the others do all your running about in the big bad world.’

      Rodney pulled a face but remained silent.

      ‘I bought a four wheel drive monster in Queensland and headed for the Gulf of Carpentaria,’ said Ben. ‘I camped off road along the coast and got lost somewhere along the Norman River. Best time I’ve ever had was trying to find my way out.’

      ‘Ever heard of GPS?’ asked Rodney.

      ‘Didn’t bother to pack one,’ said Ben. ‘It was better fun getting lost. The local Aboriginals eventually put me on the right track. Those buggers know how to cook snake that would make your mouth water.’

      ‘Snake,’ said Rodney.

      ‘Bloody beautiful done in a heated ground pit.’

      ‘I’d rather eat a rubber door mat,’

      Ben turned to face Rose. ‘He really doesn’t have a clue, does he?’

      ‘I’m starting to wonder myself how a door mat may taste,’ said Rose.

      ‘I stayed in Karumba to get some supplies and then camped by the ocean about 50 kilometres south of Seisia. It’s one of the most God forsaken places in the world. Even the Aboriginals didn’t show up there, but I found some old signs that they had lived there once. I even dug up an old spear head.’

      ‘Fancy that,’ said Rodney.

      ‘Then I cut over to the east coast and headed back to Cairns. I sold my bush basher for half what I paid for it and flew back to Sydney a very contented man.’

      ‘And looking like something dragged backwards through a hedge,’ said Rodney. ‘It’s a wonder they let you on the plane.’

      ‘Business class,’ said Ben. ‘They don’t care what you look like as long as you pay the money, don’t smell bad and keep your mouth shut.’

      ‘Good for you!’ said Rose. ‘We should do that one day Rodney.’

      ‘In your bloody dreams woman.’

      ‘He’s a Sheraton man,’ said Rose with a sigh. ‘Hardly a spark of adventure left in the poor thing.’

      ‘Ben’s had his fair share of adventures in a Sheraton resort my darling so let’s not be critical.’

      ‘He was in danger at one Sheraton location,’ said Rose. ‘The most danger you’ve ever faced at a Sheraton resort is the drink waiter running over your one good foot with his trolley cart.’

      ‘Very funny Rose. I’m inwardly screaming with laughter.’

      ‘Alright,’ said Ben, putting down his coffee mug. ‘You’ve heard about my northern adventures; now tell me why I was summonsed here?’

      ‘Invited,’ said Rodney.

      ‘Whatever.’

      ‘It’s obvious that you enjoy the occasional northern adventure.’

      ‘Some that you arranged for me, almost cost me my life,’ said Ben.

      ‘But you’re still here. Let’s focus on the positives.’

      ‘I’ve just been north for a wonderful holiday. I don’t need to go north again.’

      ‘It’s up market north, not out camping in the middle of nowhere and eating God damn snakes.’

      ‘I happen to like eating God damn snakes!’

      ‘Well if you can drag yourself away from your primeval tendencies for two weeks, I have a cherry of a job for you.’

      ‘A cherry of a job eh?’

      ‘Big money and easy work. It’s just two weeks.’

      Ben looked at Rose. ‘Have we heard this gibberish before?’

      ‘Rod makes it sound like an interesting job,’ said Rose, ‘but I won’t interfere with your decision.’

      ‘How old is she?’ asked Ben.

      ‘I don’t exactly know,’ said Rodney but her stepfather is over 60 and very well known in the BRW world rich list. I can’t afford to pass up a client like this.’

      ‘What’s wrong with her?’

      ‘She’s a bit wild and needs protection.’

      ‘I already don’t like it.’

      ‘They don’t want you in her face. They just want her watched and protected if necessary.’

      ‘Who are they?’

      ‘The clients.’

      ‘I thought you said the stepfather was the client,’ said Ben.

      ‘He’s a bloody millionaire. He has underlings to set up arrangements like this.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘Noosa Heads in Queensland. Home to the rich and retired famous.’

      ‘Like who?’ asked Ben.

      ‘I don’t know. Lara Bingle I think.’

      ‘Lara Bingle doesn’t live in Noosa Heads,’ said Ben. ‘She’s also not retired.’

      ‘But she has visited there,’ said Rodney, ‘and she is rich.’

      Ben turned to Rose. ‘Have you any idea what he’s talking about?’

      ‘He knows you have a soft spot for Lara. He’s playing you.’

      ‘It’s not a soft spot,’ said Rodney.

      ‘Don’t be crude darling,’ said Rose.

      ‘He eats two cups full of cooked spinach every day,’ said Rodney, looking at Rose and leaning forward. ‘Two damn cups of the bloody stuff. He thinks he’s Popeye.’

      ‘I didn’t eat any spinach while I was away,’ said Ben. ‘I don’t feel any different.’

      ‘What’s that got to do with Lara Bingle and Popeye?’ asked Rose, looking slightly confused.

      ‘You know,’ said Rodney. ‘Popeye and Olive Oil?’

      ‘I have no idea what you’re rambling on about,’ said Rose.

      ‘Why do they want her protected?’ asked Ben. ‘Has someone threatened her?’

      ‘She’s apparently a bit on the wild side and the stepfather’s involvement by way of personal intervention, has become a problem.’

      ‘So they want an outsider to handle her.’

      ‘You would be wise to reconsider that statement in your particular case,’ said Rodney.

      Ben put his hands in the air. ‘Watch her. Whatever? It’s the same as handling her.’

      ‘You have clearly demonstrated how to handle your female clients,’ said Rodney.

      ‘Leave him alone,’ said Rose. ‘He probably has high testosterone levels.’

      Ben looked shocked. ‘Rose! I don’t believe you just said that.’

      ‘Your high adrenaline lifestyle combined with the wonderful food you cook, has got you jumping out of your skin.’

      ‘Mostly out of his clothes,’ said Rodney.’

      ‘Will you two leave me alone?’

      ‘Sorry darling,’ said Rose. ‘We’re only jealous.’

      ‘He’ll end up going blind one day you know,’ said Rodney.

      ‘That’s only if you’re having fun by yourself,’ said Ben, grinning at Rose.

      ‘I swear I don’t know what I’ll do with you pair,’ said Rose, shaking her head.

      ‘Why only guard her for two

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