Deadly Trust

  JJ Cooper spent seventeen years in the Australian Army, deploying on two tours of duty in East Timor and one tour to the Middle East in 2003. A former member of the Australian Army Intelligence Corps, he specialised in Human Intelligence, including interrogation (as a practitioner and instructor). Since leaving the military, he spends every spare moment on his passion for writing. He finds time to be a devoted father of two boys and a girl, and lives in Brisbane.

  Also by JJ Cooper

  The Interrogator

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Deadly Trust

  ePub ISBN 9781742740782

  Kindle ISBN 9781742740799

  A Bantam book

  Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd

  Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060

  www.randomhouse.com.au

  First published by Bantam in 2010

  Copyright © JJ Cooper 2010

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia.

  Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

  Cooper, J.J., 1971–

  Deadly trust/J.J. Cooper.

  ISBN 978 1 86325 663 6 (pbk.)

  A823.4

  Cover design by Joe Mills, blacksheep-uk.com

  Internal design by Midland Typesetters, Australia

  Typeset in 13/16 pt Bembo by Midland Typesetters, Australia

  Printed in Australia by Griffi n Press, an accredited ISO AS/NZS 14001:2004 Environmental Management System printer

  For Holly

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  By the Same Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Forty-six

  Forty-seven

  Forty-eight

  Forty-nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-one

  Fifty-two

  Fifty-three

  Fifty-four

  Fifty-five

  Fifty-six

  Acknowledgements

  Random House

  ONE

  Sixty-four thousand years ago last Monday the final dinosaur succumbed to the ‘extinction’ vogue. Jay Ryan theorised that his legacy continued through the idiosyncrasies of the habitually annoying employees of Byron Bay’s Road Transport Authority.

  Five cubicles were joined as one and staffed by two, to serve those trying to renew their licence during their lunch break. Not a chance. Jay had beaten the lunch crowd and waited for over an hour and a half. Nothing to do but stare at the electronic number pad above the service counter, hoping by chance the hypnotic orange number would skip straight to his.

  He looked around the waiting room at the bored faces flipping through ancient copies of Reader’s Digest, before focusing on the bespectacled, grey-haired woman trying to hide behind her computer screen. Dinosaur number one.

  The dinosaur’s twin, beavering away in the next cubicle, seemed to be processing her customer quota quicker, albeit only just. Not much of a challenge really, as the other one hadn’t served a customer for almost ten minutes. Perhaps she’d completed her previous licence renewal a little too quickly for corporate standards and was now making amends.

  Dinosaur one peeled the wrapper off her third consecutive chocolate treat and ducked behind the computer screen to eat it. She popped back out and glanced towards Jay. Just a quick, guilty glance followed by more keyboard tapping. Twenty-seven chews for the latest one. Only twenty-five for the previous effort – maybe her jaw was tiring.

  In Jay’s interrogation days, the dinosaur would have been perfect for a ploy. He would have had her processing prisoners of war, making them go through the pain he now felt. The old girl would have had the prisoner’s secrets in no time. They’d have been begging to be processed quicker, pleading with Jay to make the menace go away.

  A sound like a doorbell shattered the silent flicking of dated magazines. All eyes looked up to the number pad. Number seventy-eight flashed on the board and Jay instantly felt like he’d won the lottery. He rose to his feet like a winner, turning to face the crowd. The crowd reacted by looking at the screen, checking their numbers, looking back to the screen, glaring at Jay, rolling their eyes and then dropping their heads.

  Jay moseyed to the counter and stood in front of dinosaur one. No chair for the meek. No ‘hello’ or ‘can I help you?’ either. Just a look down her nose over the top of ancient spectacles. Jay guessed the raise of her eyebrows meant he had to speak first.

  ‘Just like to renew my licence, thanks.’

  ‘Do you have your old one?’ she asked in a monotone voice.

  Jay took his time pretending to rifle through his near-empty wallet and handed over the expired card.

  The dinosaur studied the card, shook her head and started typing away at her keyboard. After another shake of the head, she said, ‘This licence expired six months ago.’

  ‘That’s right. I haven’t been driving for about a year.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Does it matter? he thought. ‘Got shot in the foot. Couldn’t drive.’

  She didn’t blink at the
disclosure. ‘Do you have a medical certificate to say you can drive again?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You need one before getting this renewed.’

  ‘That’s a five-year licence that expired after I was shot. If I was shot two years ago, I wouldn’t have needed a medical certificate to drive again.’

  ‘But it didn’t happen that way, did it?’

  His frustration boiled. ‘Listen, I don’t have a medical certificate. I run ten kilometres a day, much more than probably ninety-eight per cent of licensed drivers in this country. I just want to renew mine and get out of here.’

  She pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose, using her middle finger. A clear sign the dinosaur was flipping Jay the bird in a covert way. Dinosaurs had evolved. ‘I can’t process this without a medical certificate.’

  One, two, three deep breaths. ‘What if I had told you I couldn’t be bothered getting my licence renewed before now and because I got pulled over yesterday, I have to get it done?’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that. You said you had been shot.’

  The fact was that both statements were true. On top of an outrageous fine, he’d been given twenty-four hours to have the licence renewed. ‘How about your twin over there who gets through her quotas quicker? Think she’ll process it?’

  A thin smile played across her lips. ‘Maybe, but you’d have to take a new number and wait.’

  He felt an urge to walk behind the counter and process his own licence. Maybe even process a few more while he was there. Instead, he swallowed hard and reached across to retrieve his expired licence. But before he grasped it, the dinosaur snatched the card off the counter with speed Jay thought impossible, considering her effort to date.

  She reached in a drawer, grabbed a pair of scissors, and cut the card. ‘I can’t let you keep an expired licence.’

  Jay closed his eyes and counted slowly to five. He got to four before a scream shattered the quiet of the waiting room. Jay turned to see two masked men carrying rifles walking casually through the main entrance. Too casually. They held their rifles close to their chests, at forty-five degrees, barrel towards the floor. They didn’t expect trouble, or the rifle-butts would have dug into their shoulders. Jay noted the rifles were 5.56mm AUSTYER – standard Australian Army issue.

  ‘Get on the ground! This is a hold-up!’ They stood either side of the doorway, feet shoulder-width apart, motionless, like identical action figures.

  Jay bent slightly at the knees, looked around without moving his head, assimilating the scene. There was a momentary pause while the crowded room wondered if the scene was for real. Then the panic began. The two gunmen remained cool. No swearing. No movements. Just assessing the situation like Jay. They moved their heads in unison around the room, while customers overturned their chairs, eager to hug the thin carpet.

  The gunmen were looking for immediate threats. Before both men had turned towards him, Jay reached behind the counter and palmed the pair of scissors. He gave the dinosaur a look that told her to keep quiet. He doubted she even saw him grab the makeshift weapon. She stared at the gunmen, paralysed.

  By the time Jay lay on the floor with his hands on his head and the scissors tucked under his chest, the screaming had died down. He watched both men place the attached slings of their weapons over their heads. Both retrieved knapsack-sized duffel bags from behind their backs.

  ‘Listen up and we’ll all get through this just fine. Women, place your purses in my partner’s bag and get out of here now.’ Nobody moved. ‘Last chance or you stay here with the men. Move!’

  A flurry of activity as women of all shapes and sizes scrambled for the door, tripping over each other to place their purses into the duffel bag. They waited until they got outside before they started screaming again. Jay thought it strange the gunmen would allow the women to leave so early; to prematurely alert the outside world an armed hold-up was going down.

  The two dinosaurs were intercepted as they tried to get out from behind the counter. The gunman who had spoken stepped towards them and threw his duffel bag over the counter.

  ‘Before you leave, fill it up, ladies.’

  Jay couldn’t see them, but guessed they were serving the gunman faster than he’d been attended.

  The last of the women bolted out the door. Less than a minute had passed. While the dinosaurs were filling up the duffel bag, the gunmen instructed the men to remove their wallets and place them on the floor by their heads.

  He couldn’t see the gunman giving orders but, as Jay retrieved his wallet, he could see the other one grab each wallet, check for something inside, then toss it in his bag. A black boot came to rest a couple of inches from Jay’s face. The smell of waterproof polish hit Jay immediately. A crack of leather as it scrunched together. The gunman had picked up Jay’s wallet. Definite military, Jay thought. The precision, execution, weapons and gear.

  And a sinking feeling in Jay’s gut told him they had come for him.

  TWO

  The black boot nudged Jay on the top of his head. ‘Where’s your ID?’

  A hyped-up bank robber would have kicked for the sake of damage and authority. Not this one. He didn’t need to kick hard. His weapon and demeanour was his authority.

  ‘That’s why I’m here,’ Jay said. ‘Wallet was stolen last week.’ The truth was Jay only ever carried around his licence and a small amount of cash in his wallet. And his licence had just been cut up. His one and only credit card was in the sole of his left boot. Old habits die hard.

  ‘Looks like an old wallet.’

  ‘It is. Had to go through some boxes of junk just to find it. Had to carry around my cash in something.’

  A momentary pause. Jay thought the robber may have bought his lame excuse.

  ‘What’s your name?’ the gunman asked.

  ‘Rob Ackroyd.’

  ‘What do you drive, Rob?’

  ‘Beat-up old Holden.’

  ‘Didn’t see no beat-up old Holden in the parking lot?’

  ‘Walked down. I didn’t want to drive without my licence.’

  ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Caravan Park.’

  ‘Okay, Rob. Why don’t you slowly reach in and pull out your keys for me. You know, the ones for your old Holden and caravan.’

  The game was up.

  Jay didn’t like his chances once the gunmen saw the ’57 Chevy key ring. ‘No problem. Mind if I get to my knees to fish them out of my front pocket?’

  ‘Real slow. Don’t be a hero.’

  ‘Me a hero? No chance.’ Jay slipped his arms under his chest to raise himself. And palmed the scissors in his right hand. ‘I’m just a surfer. No harm, no foul.’ He raised himself to his knees and slipped the hand with the scissors into his front pocket. The barrel of the weapon now pointed towards his head. The gunman had made a mistake though. He had unslung his weapon and it was within reach. Jay looked towards the hooded face.

  ‘Just a surfer, man,’ said Jay as he parried the weapon away from his face with his left arm and plunged the scissors into the gunman’s thigh. He reached for the rifle with both hands as the wounded man’s guttural growl pierced the room. The gunman let go of the weapon to reach for the scissors. Jay grabbed the barrel and pushed the cocking handle to the rear, locking it in place. A round ejected. The weapon was now safe; it couldn’t be fired until the cocking handle was moved forward. Jay used the weight of his hand on the barrel of the weapon to pull himself up towards the gunman. He slammed his knuckles into the robber’s jaw. A hard hit with an audible crack. The gunman was unconscious before he hit the ground.

  The timing needed to be perfect. The second gunman had seen Jay, but had one hand on a duffel bag and the other checking a wallet. Between him and Jay stood two rows of chairs and maybe half a dozen panicked men trying to dig through the carpet to lower their profile. Jay and the second gunman had clear shots and no cover. The race commenced. The gunman dropped the bag and wallet and swung his rifle to the f
ront of his body. Jay released the cocking handle on his weapon. Both men raised their rifles to their shoulders at the same time – their training matched to give the same result.

  Jay fought against his old skills and dropped to his knees before firing. He aimed at the crotch of the gunman. Two rounds flew inches above Jay’s head. A double tap per training requirements. The gunman then dropped to his knees. Jay released two of his own rounds in quick succession. He didn’t see the fall of shot. He just hit the floor and rolled. Forcing himself to count to five, he rolled again before popping up with his weapon pointed at the most likely new position of the gunman, which was three feet forward of his old position and to Jay’s left. Standard drill for a right-hand firer without cover.

  The gunman didn’t reappear. Jay’s ears were ringing and he tried to pop them. He needed his senses to get a fix on his target. He scanned a couple of feet, back and forth, the barrel of his weapon following his line of sight.

  ‘You killed him! You killed him! Fuck ... there’s blood all over the place. You could have fucken shot me!’ The swearing seemed odd coming from a plump middle-aged man in a blood-covered designer suit.

  Jay rose. He pointed his weapon at the speaker as he advanced on the fallen gunman, making his way around the chairs. Movement in his peripheral vision made him turn towards the door. A young man with long hair ran straight for the automatic doors. The doors didn’t open quick enough and the young man bounced headfirst into them. He crumpled to the ground as the doors opened. Then the stampede happened. They stepped over, tripped over, or stepped on the one with the long hair to get to freedom. In less than twenty seconds the place had emptied, all except for Jay, an unconscious gunman, a dead gunman and a plump middle-aged man. Jay figured the two dinosaurs were huddled behind the counter somewhere. He looked over to the doorway where the long-haired man was crawling out through the doors. The hapless sap copped a pounding of boots and now the doors bounced off his ribs in an attempt to close. Jay indicated that the middle-aged man should go and help him out.