Flesh Traders

‘What are you doing way out here?’ asked Barbara.
The girl remained silent.
‘You got a name?’
No response.
‘Where did you come from?’
Silence.
Barbara took a step towards the girl and she instantly pressed herself more
firmly against the wall of the house and the edge of the amphora. Barbara backed up.
‘OK, you’re obviously frightened. I can see that. You also scared the shit out of me
young lady so I guess we’re both even. You are very lucky I didn’t shoot you.’
The two women stared at each other. Moths continued to dash themselves
against the verandah lights.
Barbara looked out into the darkness. Nothing else moved on her tiny patch of
dry front lawn or in the poor excuse for a front garden, starved into almost extinction
by lack of available water. She looked back at the girl and held out her left hand.
‘Let’s go inside. We need to get you patched up a bit I think.’
The girl remained motionless for several long moments; then held out her right
hand. Barbara moved forward and grasped the slender, dirty fingers. The girl moved
so lithely to her feet that Barbara was momentarily startled. They stood face to face
but the girl was trembling. She was much taller than Barbara had expected. She led
her into the house and switched on the hallway light. She closed and locked the door.
‘Now come with me and we’ll get you cleaned up,’ said Barbara, propping the rifle
against the wall in a corner. She led the girl down the hall to the tiled bathroom,
flicking on the light as they entered. The girl looked briefly around and then walked
to the basin, ran the cold tap and put her mouth to the stream of water. She drank
deeply.
Barbara opened a large louvered door and took two heavy blue towels from
the recessed cupboard. ‘You get showered young lady. You can use my robe behind
the door here. I’ll rustle up some clothes for you. They’ll be a bit small on you but
those overalls need to go in the wash.’ The girl remained silent. Barbara held the
towels out. ‘I’m not sure what’s going on here, but you are safe with me. Do you
understand?’ The girl said nothing but she moved two steps forward and took the
towels from her hands. Barbara noticed tears welling in the girl’s large brown eyes.
‘We’ll talk later. I’ll get you something to eat.’
Barbara turned and left the room, closing the door. She walked slowly along
the hallway to the lounge room at the front of the house, her mind in turmoil.
Blood. There were smudges of blood on the carpet from the girl’s feet.
Barbara walked the length of the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house,
flicked on the light and held a large cloth under a running tap at the sink. She dabbed
and removed each blood stain from the bathroom to the front door. The shower
wasn’t running.
The silence was broken by the sound of a large engine and heavy tires
approaching on the gravel driveway at the back of the house. Bright headlights
flashed through the rear door window. The vehicle roared around to the left hand
corner of the house, skidding to a stop in a cloud of red dust. The motor was turned
off. Two doors slammed and crunching footsteps approached the front door.
Barbara tucked the wet cloth into a back pocket of her jeans. She retrieved the rifle,
unlocked the front door and pulled it open. Two very large men climbed the three
stairs onto the verandah, squinting through the bright outside lights. Barbara checked
that the fly screen door was locked. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, trying to keep her
voice calm and even.
One of the men advanced and stood within a metre of the doorway. He peered
in. ‘I see you’ve got a gun there.’
‘Yes I have,’ said Barbara, raising the barrel slightly. ‘Loaded and ready to
go.’
‘No need for that Ma’am. I’m your neighbour from down the road a piece.
Peter Harper’s my name and this is my associate, Simon.’
Barbara noted that Simon was a very tall Aboriginal. ‘How can I help you?’
‘We’re looking for my ward. Seems she might have gotten lost or run off or
something. We had a bit of an argument. You know how young girls are.’
‘Your ward?’
‘That’s right Ma’am. Pretty little thing. Just over in Australia for a visit at my
resort. My Father and she are close friends.’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone around here today,’ said Barbara.
‘I don’t know your name,’ said Peter Harper. ‘Don’t think we’ve ever met and
I’ve been here for years.’
‘I do believe you’re right Mr. Harper, and I’d prefer to leave it that way.’
Harper raised both hands in the air, palms outwards. ‘Just trying to be
friendly.’ He took a pace backwards and looked both ways along the verandah. He
looked at the floor boards for a moment. ‘Looks like there’s some blood here lady.
You shoot something at your front door?’
‘No. I cut my foot on a rock this evening, that’s all.’
‘Yep, there are some sharp rocks around out there. Not a good idea to go
wandering about in your bare feet I would suggest. Perhaps you should see a
Doctor?’
‘I am a Doctor,’ snapped Barbara.
‘That so…!’
‘Yes, and I’ve taken care of my small cut. Thank you for your concern. I’m
sorry I can’t help you with your missing ward.’
Harper scratched at the stubble on his chin. ‘She’ll turn up. Not too many
places to go out here in the middle of no-where. She’ll come to the lights just like
those moths there.’ He glanced at the porch lights.
‘She may be back at your place by now,’ Barbara ventured. ‘I can see your
lights over there on a clear night. I’m up fairly high on this hill.’
‘So you are.’ Harper turned and looked south into the darkness. ‘I can’t see
lights.’
‘Not a clear night tonight,’ said Barbara. ‘Bit of sea mist rolling in.’
‘If my girl should happen this way, I’d appreciate you letting me know. Her
Father would be frantic if he knew I’d misplaced her.’
‘Of course. You’re in the phone book Mr. Harper?’
‘You can get me or my staff under Aquatic Dream Corporation. We’re in the
local phone book. I assume you have one?’
‘Aquatic Dream?’
‘That’s us.’
‘What does she look like?’
Harper looked momentarily bewildered. He glanced at his companion. The
man Harper had previously introduced as ‘Simon’ was dressed in what appeared to be
rather expensive leisure slacks, leather shoes and a Polo brand cream shirt. He took a
pace forward and peered through the flyscreen at Barbara. ‘She’s Pacific Islander
Ma’am.’ His accent was cultured, educated Australian. ‘She’s very pretty and about
21. Her name is Yvette. That’s French but she’s not French.’
‘Is her Father French?’ asked Barbara, looking directly at Harper.
‘No.’ Harper appeared uncomfortable. ‘I would appreciate any information
you may have as to her whereabouts’.
‘Certainly. Good evening gentlemen.’ Barbara stepped back, closed and
locked the front door. Heavy boots tramped across the verandah and down the short
three timber steps to the lawn. The large motor growled into life and the vehicle
reversed. Headlights blazed, sending shadows of the verandah posts and railings
through the lounge room windows and onto the wall. Gears crunched and large tires
threw gravel and dust as the black Hummer moved alongside the house to the red dirt
track leading away from the coast. Probing headlights and red tail lights eventually
disappeared into the blackness.
Barbara leaned the rifle against the wall. Her hands were trembling. Her
mouth was dry. She knew these were just symptoms of fear. She was very used to
this. She had been living with the very real fear of death for over 4 years. Malignant
colon cancer, diagnosed in Sydney around 5 years ago was spreading throughout her
body. Unsuccessful, sickening chemotherapy followed, although she stopped that
within weeks. She refused surgery as the prognosis was dismal. A precious,
longstanding relationship, failed to sustain her. She suffered total emotional
breakdown, then ran away to hide from everyone forever until she died. She lived
with fear. Intolerable fear.
Over time, in the Australian wilderness adjoining the Timor Sea, Barbara had
learned to cope with her fear. Some days she even forgot it was lurking there. Now it
was back with a vengeance, but this time, different. This time, in current
circumstances, she had experienced fear for totally other reasons and the adrenalin
surge was both frightening but also exhilarating.
‘I’m too old for this shit,’ she whispered. There was silence from the
bathroom. She turned off the outside lights and walked to the bathroom door. ‘It’s
OK. They’re gone. I’m assuming they were looking for you dear.’
Silence
‘We’re going to have to talk about this when you’re cleaned up. I haven’t got
a damn clue what’s going on here but this is my home and you owe me some
explanation.’
Again, silence.
‘I’ll put the kettle on and make some sandwiches. You’ll find me in the
lounge room when you’re ready. I’ll leave one of my track suits just outside the door.
Nothing fancy mind you.’
Barbara went to her bedroom and pulled out dark blue track suit pants and a
black tee shirt. She wasn’t loaning her underwear to anyone, not that the underwear,
particularly her small sized bra, would be of much assistance to this well proportioned
girl. She placed the clothing outside the bathroom door and went to the kitchen. The
water in the shower began to run. That was a positive sign. The girl looked to be in a
state of absolute shock, but at least she knew how to turn on a shower. The
Westminster clock chimed 15 minutes past 8. Barbara felt it had been the longest 15
minutes of her life.
“****”

Chapter Two
Yana moved carefully. She held the bamboo pole tightly in both hands and
her eyes never left Ben’s. She circled him cautiously because she knew he could be
dangerous. She lunged at him with the pole and he blocked the attack effortlessly.
She lunged again and he blocked with lightning speed, jarring her hands with the
power of his sweeping arm.
Yana Gibson was a solicitor. She was the youngest partner in the Sydney
based firm Stewart and Thorne. 25 years old with stunning looks and athletic body.
Her brown eyes flashed with anger as she took a step back and considered another
strategy for hurting her opponent. She desperately wanted to hurt Ben Hood. Her
normally shoulder length brown hair was tied back in a pony tail. Her karate rating
was third dan.
Ben Hood was a retired police detective, just over 50 years of age but
extremely fit from years of training in the large room where he now faced Yana. Ben
stood 6’ 1” tall, of solid build with muscular arms and calloused hands. His greying
hair was short. His deep blue eyes never left Yana’s face although he also knew
exactly what she was doing with her hands, body and feet. This was a body he knew
quite well, both in the training room as well as the occasional bedroom session. The
bedroom sessions had stopped since his return from a body guard assignment in
Cooktown eight weeks prior, following his dramatic tangle with a deranged serial
killer at Black Mountain. During this time he had also become quite close to a
stunning part Aboriginal woman named Merinda Jerome. Yana wasn’t impressed.
She lunged at him again. This time Ben caught the pole in both hands, pulled her
forward and off balance. He quickly jerked the pole to the left and kicked it hard with
a sweeping motion of his right foot, knocking the pole from her grasp. Ben flung it
across the room where it clattered against the wall. Yana pivoted on her left foot and
aimed a high kick at Ben’s head. He blocked it effortlessly. Her breathing was now
coming in short gasps in contrast to Ben’s slow, controlled breaths. She lunged at
him again, aiming a straight punch to the centre of his chest. Ben blocked her arm
with a rapid sweeping motion of his left arm and then pushed her hard in the chest
with his right hand, knocking her off balance. She began to slowly circle Ben again,
desperately seeking a weakness but realising with frustration there was none.
‘Would someone mind telling me what the bloody hell is going on here?’
Akira Misaki pushed himself out of his padded chair and walked slowly towards Ben
and Yana. He locked his fingers and cracked large, thick knuckles. These were not
large because of arthritis but rather from many years of extensive Karate training and
fighting. Akira was Korean born, 64 years old and rated 8
th
Dan Hachidan (Japanese
and Pal Dan (Korean) He was highly respected as Karate Master in Australia, and in
fact the world. He had spent considerable time training Ben and Yana and was proud
of their achievements in karate skills and personal stamina.
Ben stepped back and lowered his arms from their defensive position. ‘I think
the lady is pissed off with me.’
Akira stopped in front of Yana. He turned his back on Ben. Akira was only
fractionally taller than Yana at 5’8”, however he was three times her size in body
mass and most of that was pure muscle. He was bald. On this occasion he wore a
military style baseball cap, jet black kimono and brown leather sandals. ‘Is that
right?’
Yana was clearly angry. She looked past Akira towards Ben. ‘He cheated on
me.’
‘I see.’ Akira folded his muscular arms. ‘Lovers spat eh?’
Yana slowly lowered her arms and looked at Akira. ‘We’re not lovers any
more. I don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t want to train with him again.’
‘And you won’t young lady. You’re letting personal issues over ride the strict
discipline of karate and I won’t allow that. You also run the risk of having Ben
instinctively resort to his extremely effective skills of Shin Obi Ninjutsu and that
would put him in as much trouble as you seem to have placed yourself.’
‘He wouldn’t dare.’
‘Everyone has their breaking point Yana.’
‘It was a stupid idea putting us together in the first place. He hates lawyers
and I hate police and ex police in particular.’
‘It didn’t seem that way to me a few months ago.’
‘A momentary lapse of judgement on my part. It won’t happen again.’
‘And you won’t be matched against Ben again under my roof,’ said Akira,
unfolding his arms. ‘I think you should have a break from karate my dear. Take
some time to think through what you want from this special skill. I’ve been trying to
drum this kind of thinking through Ben’s head for years. Now it’s your turn for some
reflection.’
‘Fine. I’ll be on my way then.’ Yana turned and strode quickly to the change
room.
Akira’s shoulders slumped perceptively. He tightened the kimono belt and
turned to face Ben. ‘Some restraint may have been in order outside the training
regime.’
‘Why? She came onto me.’
‘She’s young enough to be your daughter.’
‘I don’t mean to be disrespectful Aka but you live with a Japanese woman
around half your age. How old is Bell anyway?’
‘None of your damn business and at least we live together. You seem to be
out there flitting from flower to flower.’
‘This VIP body guard business brings me into contact with lots of younger
women.’
‘But you don’t have to take the contact into their bedrooms.’
‘You’re not in a position to moralise with me Aka. I know too much about
you.’
Akira looked up at Ben. He put a massive right hand on Ben’s shoulder. ‘I
may lose her over this situation.’
‘You don’t need her money.’
‘I’m not talking about her money.’
‘Her friendship with you should easily over ride this, if it’s genuine.’
Akira nodded. ‘You’re not as dumb as you look and occasionally act.’
‘You’re stretching the respect boundaries Hachidan.’
‘Let’s go out to the patio and have some green tea. Yana knows her way out.
We don’t want a scene.’
‘You know I hate green tea.’
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘I don’t want to get used to it.’
‘It calms the mind and refreshes the body.’
‘It still tastes like shit.’
The two men walked across the large expanse of the training floor and through
an archway to the sunlit patio. ‘You got into big trouble up in Cooktown I hear, said
Akira. Nearly died they say. I saw the scar on the back of your head.’
‘Baseball bat. He came out of no-where.’
‘You were not aware of possible danger?’
‘I was distracted.’
A door slammed back in the training area. Footsteps retreated and the front
door of the house closed with more force than was necessary. Akira waved Ben
towards a cushioned lounge and lowered himself into a similar lounge opposite.
‘Distracted by a woman?’
‘Dogs. German Shepherds actually. I was walking towards their enclosure
and this guy just slammed me from behind.’
Akira lifted a tiny brass bell from the table beside him and rang it softly. He
replaced it gently and clasped his large fingers together across his stomach. ‘Dogs?’
‘Long story.’
‘No women tangled up in this distraction?’
‘Well… ’
‘Figured.’
‘You ring a bell to get your partner’s attention?
‘It’s expected. How else can I let her know that I’m ready for tea?’
‘Perhaps you could make it yourself.’
‘Perhaps it best if you live your life your way, and I’ll live my life my way.’
‘Then perhaps you could be less judgemental about the way I spend my time
when I’m not with you.’
A stunningly beautiful Japanese woman glided into the room and stood beside
Akira’s lounge, resting a dainty hand on his right shoulder. ‘Hello Ben.’
‘Bell. How are you?’
‘I’m extremely well, thank you. Are we having this green tea problem again?’
A huge grin spread across Ben’s face. ‘Between you and me Bell, we can
stand up to this old tyrant.’
‘He’s not old Ben.’
Akira wagged his finger in a mock scolding way. ‘Alright, get the heathen
some damn coffee.’ The petite woman smiled and left the room with remarkable
speed.
‘You’re very lucky Aka.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m not sure what she sees in you.’
‘Careful.’
Ben laughed softly and settled back in his chair. ‘I met lots of interesting
people on that trip to Cooktown.’
‘So I hear.’
‘This old Aboriginal guy had amazing insight and Mother Andrews and lots of
other indigenous people made me re-think much of stuff about the history of people
who first came to live in this country.’
‘I hear that Merinda Jerome swept you off your feet. Isn’t she part
Aboriginal?’
‘Who cares?’
‘Exactly! Who cares? Are you going to see her again?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Next week?’
‘This week.’
‘No wonder Yana wanted you to bleed.’
‘There’s enough drama in my life without jealous women spitting the dummy
with me. I’m too old for her anyway.’
‘Dear Ben. How silly you are sometimes.’
Bell glided back into the room with a tray. She placed a china cup and small
pot of tea on a table beside Akira and a steaming mug of coffee on a table beside Ben.
‘Would you like something to eat?’
‘No thanks,’ said Ben. Akira shook his head almost imperceptivity.
‘Ms. Gibson is not joining you?’
‘No. She’s gone,’ said Ben.
‘Well I’ll leave you both alone.’ Bell smiled at Akira and silently left the
room.
Ben sipped his coffee. Akira poured and sipped his green tea. They both
remained quiet for several long moments. Finally Akira put his cup back on the table.
‘So what now for Ben Hood?’
‘Nothing. Time to rest up for a while.’
‘What about your training?’
‘I’ll keep training but you’ve got to find me a new sparring partner.’
‘I can think of a few.’
‘No lawyers this time damn it Aka and get me someone older, preferably
male.’
Akira laughed loudly. ‘Yana was as tough as nails and you know it. The only
reason she didn’t land a blow on you today is because she lost control. Anger
overrode her high level of skill.’
Ben nodded.
‘That’s why I’ve always tried to drum through your head that you must
overcome all emotion in order to make your innate abilities much more effective.’
‘Yeah Yeah. Mr. Zen back on his shoe box.’
‘I don’t think you’ll ever get it Ben, even as good as you are. You could be
better. You should never have allowed an attacker to strike you so savagely from
behind as happened to you in Far North Queensland. You missed something.’
‘I know.’
‘What did you miss?’
‘I misread the reaction of the dogs just a second before I was struck.’
‘Then you need to train more and also sharpen up your senses. There is an old
Japanese proverb relating to military kendo that says if the sword is true, the heart is
true; and if the heart is true, the sword is true. You get it?’
‘No.’
‘The state of the heart of a man is reflected in his skill with the use of the
sword.’
‘I still don’t get it.’
‘Two things Ben. The more you train in karate, the better your fighting skills
will be. The second thing is that the more you take care of your body, heart and mind,
the more effective will that weapon be. What does karate mean Ben?’
‘Fighting with empty hands.’
‘Well learned. Your whole body is the weapon, from all of it, to just one
finger.’
‘Can I go now?’
‘Finish your coffee. I want to show you something.’ Akira rose and walked
to a small cupboard. He slid open the top drawer and removed a small box covered in
bright red silk. He walked back to Ben, the small box looking even smaller in Akira’s
very large hands. He held out the box. ‘This is for you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Take it.’
Ben took the box from Akira’s hands. He returned to his lounge chair and
resumed his seat. ‘Boading balls. Open the box.’
Ben flipped a small brass clasps and opened the lid. Two balls, slightly bigger
than golf balls lay nestled in silk. They were both deep green and appeared to be
made from marble. Both had the signs of Ying and Yang embedded in the marble.
He took one out. It was quite heavy and from within came a dull chiming sound.
‘And what do I do with these?’
‘They are Chinese exercise balls. You rotate them around with the fingers of
one hand to improve your dexterity, strength and spiritual power.’
‘Crap.’
‘You meditate while you rotate the balls for at least half an hour a day. Start
slowly and build up the speed with both hands. No TV. No radio. No talking. Just
rotate the balls.’
‘I’ll look like an idiot.’
‘You don’t need the balls for that. No-one can see you anyway.’
‘Very funny.’ Ben removed the second ball and attempted to rotate them both
clockwise in the palm of his right hand, using his fingers. He found it impossible. ‘I
can’t do it.’
‘Move them the other way. It’s easier. Once you get used to moving them
anti clockwise, change direction. Then use them in your other hand. 15 minutes in
one direction then 15 minutes in the other. Listen to the chimes. Close your eyes and
concentrate.’
The balls began to move slowly in an anti clockwise direction in Ben’s
upturned right palm as he pushed them with his fingers. ‘It’s bloody hard.’
‘It will get easier. It will give you strength in body and mind.’
‘You sure you’re not just having a lend of me Aka?’
‘No lend. Just work with them every day.’
‘Alright. I’m off then. I’m doing a quick stop off at Rodney’s place to pick
up the rest of my body guard pay and then I’m heading to the pub. I’ll see you again
day after tomorrow at three?’
‘Alright. Go easy at the pub.’
‘Don’t mother me.’
“****”
Chapter Three
Rodney Reid was the Managing Director of a VIP Protection Company named
predictably enough, ‘Security for Important People’. Ben had undertaken two
assignments for Rodney since being asked to resign from the NSW Police Force
almost a year before. His ‘resignation’ from the Police Force related to allegations
that as a detective, he used too much violence in dealing with armed and dangerous
criminals and had shot 3 offenders dead in a space of less than a year. No charges
were ever laid against Ben. The shootings were justified, but only barely so according
to the investigating body and in each case, the Coroner.
The first assignment took him to Port Douglas in Far North Queensland,
protecting a young American movie starlet who he had secretly admired for years,
together with her film crew. The assignment almost ended in complete and total
disaster and created international headlines and a fair degree of unwanted publicity for
Ben, although huge publicity for the film ‘Coral Sea Affair’ and the Sheraton Mirage
Port Douglas where much of the film was shot. The publicity also boosted the image
of Rodney Reid’s VIP protection company beyond his wildest dreams.
The second assignment returned Ben to Far North Queensland and in
particular, to Cooktown where a deranged killer was regularly dispatching locals and
leaving bodies and body parts in caverns deep within Black Mountain. The killings
seem to involve a well known socialite and part Aboriginal woman, Merinda Jerome.
Ben’s job of protecting this woman almost cost him his life. Once the murderer had
been identified and eventually killed, Ben again received a fair degree of unwelcomed
publicity and also the wrath of his now ex sparring partner, Yana Gibson.
He had decided that it was time for a break from VIP protection work. He had
earned more than sufficient money to live comfortably for a year or so and perhaps
take a holiday to Bali or somewhere. It was time to rest up. He would continue his
Shin Obi Ninjutsu training with Akira, three times a week, and play with his newly
acquired balls. Merinda Jerome was also arriving in Sydney on Friday. She had
invited him out for dinner. Her shout. A way of thanking him for saving her life in
Black Mountain two months prior. It had been difficult for Ben to get this woman out
of his mind. They had become close. Perhaps too close. She was part Aboriginal,
early 40’s, stunningly beautiful with dark brown eyes, a shock of frizzy black hair and
extremely wealthy due to various business activities and social connections. His
divorce was barely a year ago and his sudden departure from the Police Force, even
less. He was looking forward to Friday night, but there was a niggle of apprehension.
Rodney Reid’s home and office was set back well from the street in a leafy
cul-de-sac in Castle Hill, an upper/middle class suburb northwest of Sydney. The
house was double storied and clad in brilliant white weather board. All the homes in
this cul-de-sac were immaculately maintained together with extensive gardens. The
only feature placing Rodney Reid’s home apart from the others was the security
cameras mounted on high metal poles in various parts of his garden and on the house
itself.
Ben parked his aging Volvo, as usual, in the street outside the house. He
never locked it. No-one stole Volvos. He walked up the grey cobblestone path to the

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