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Australian Desert
The sun was intense on the desert’s baking red bull dust as the temperature climbed into the high forties. He had been walking since early that morning. Was concentrating on thoughts of The Dreaming and had not seen another sole for three days. Oblivious to his surroundings the sudden pain across his left calf swung him around and threw him to the ground. Followed by the familiar sound of a 7.62mm SLR round that cracked, like a stockman’s whip, and he realised he’d been shot.
On the ground he rolled across to the cover of the Porcupine Grass. It was a clean shot that had taken the top layers of skin and tissue. A burning sensation crept up his leg and he started the mental process of finding something to stem the blood flow. Lying on his back he used his trusty double bladed hunting knife to cut strips off the Paperbark Tree. The first as a tourniquet and the wider second strip was wrapped to secure the muscle. A stick tightened the tourniquet. Crushed Billygoat Weed was spread across the wound to stop infection and a further wider strip of Paperbark was used as a bandage.
The whole time he remained astutely alert to further shots or movement. He had already calculated the shooter to be to the southwest and more than likely scanning his vision from west to east. Trusting his hunting skills, and having not picked up a scent, he determined if there was more than one shooter they were not to the north.
Eight minutes had elapsed, since the shot. Watching through the Porcupine Grass a rifle barrel reflected off to the southeast. Unarmed he needed to level the playing field. A long stem Black Boy plant was the perfect decoy. Slowly swaying the plant gave the impression of somebody moving. As the rounds were slashing and penetrating the Porcupine Grass he deduced where the two shooters were located. He doubled back and crawled along a dried up waterway that meandered behind them.
With the sun directly overhead and the ground like a furnace the shooters would not have much patience and would need to find shade. Using this knowledge, to his advantage, lying four metres behind the first shooter; he waited. It had been fifteen minutes since they had fired their volley of shots. Frustrated, the shooter stood. Wiping the sand and sweat from his eyes he grabbed his two-way and instructed his mate to follow suit.
The shooter had raised his water bottle to his mouth as the knife lodged directly into the side of his neck, killing him silently and instantly. Rushing across to the fallen body he reached down grabbed the rifle; checked a round was chambered and spun around to sight the second.
The second shooter had left his hiding position and was scampering across the sparsely vegetated, iron ore encrusted landscape. Without missing a beat, he aimed the long range scope and fired a direct headshot.
Twenty minutes later he had found weapons, ammunition, a GPS scanner and water on both men and a photo of him taken at the Darwin Marina, nine weeks earlier.
Wade Ross a trained ex Special Forces soldier who had just spent the last nine weeks wandering through the desert of Central Australia on a journey of Aboriginal spiritual enlightenment. He knew the two shooters had been sent as his assassins.
It was time to return to civilisation. His first point of duty was to find out who these hit men were working for and why he was targeted.
Using the vehicle, of his would be assassins he headed back to Darwin.
Darwin
Darwin, the northern most city of Australia, considered the gateway to the Australian outback and therefore a prominent area to find aboriginals. Wade Ross the half cast aboriginal, adopted and raised by a full blooded aboriginal mother had always called Darwin home. He had spent a youth enjoying the fruits of learning the aboriginal beliefs and ways, whilst having the opportunity to be educated in the white man system.
Wade, his mother Martha and adopted sister Camira had not been afforded the creature comforts of wealth but they had experienced the happiness and joy, as a family, that money could not buy.
Since the murder of his family Wade had decided he would never return to the family home so he made his way to the harbour to meet up with his old friend Stefan. The French Foreign Legionnaire, who lived on a disguised, high powered, floating armoury, ratty looking fishing boat and operated his undercover missions out of the Darwin harbour, throughout the Timor Sea and into Indonesia. Wade and Stefan had worked together on numerous occasions whilst Wade was on temporary attachment from the SAS.
At six foot eight and two hundred and sixty pounds Stefan is a wall of muscle. This works to his advantage in most situations but not on the one particular night they had been instructed to eliminate two Egyptian males, who had been suspected of leaking classified French documents. The five man assassination squad had come ashore at a marina, sixty kilometres south west of Alexandria, Egypt. Part of the mission required them to crawl through a boat repair area. The area was extremely tight. Stefan became trapped and in turn that alerted the guards. Whilst trying to escape he was shot in the hip and only through Wade’s skill and strength were they able to rescue him. A strong bond had since developed and Stefan felt he owed Wade his life.
Halting the car on the concrete hardstand of the derelict area within the harbour, Wade watched as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the distant horizon. Darkness, in the ‘Topend’, the colloquial name given to that area of Australia, comes over like a blanket shrouding every ounce of available light and within minutes it had gone from a sunset to complete darkness. Wade waited until his night vision had focused and then started the onerous task of searching for Stefan’s early warning detection devices.
Disabling a tripwire activated flare, an electric current to the wharf access ladder and a movement sensor; he stepped up to the side of the boat.
“Hello you big ugly critter,” said Wade as a surprised Stefan swung around. At the same time pulling a Heckler & Koch 9mm pistol from his rear waistband.
With the gun aimed straight at Wade’s head he cried out, “Oh mon Dieu … Wade you could have got yourself killed sneaking up like that.”
“I think I was fairly safe,” he replied stepping on to the boat.
The mention of Wade’s name caused an almighty scream, and the dropping of aluminium plates, as a gorgeous brunette scampered up the galley ladder.
“Hello Crystal,” said Wade as she wrapped her arms around his neck like a spider that had caught its prey.
“I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you so much,” she said in her Mid Atlantic Virginian accent, while not letting go with her head buried against his chest.
“Well it’s good you two are excited to see me and it’s nice you waited around,” he said easing Crystal from her grasp.
Kissing her gently on the lips, and shaking hands with Stefan, all three sat down.
“I’m surprised you’re still here. I would’ve thought you would have returned to the states by now?” asked Wade looking at Crystal.
After nine weeks living in the tropics, on a boat, with limited showering, spending most of the day swimming, eating, reading and dressed only in a sarong and bikini top; Crystal had become very tanned and Bohemian looking. Wade had missed her gorgeous emerald eyes and continually smiling face.
Stefan answered first, “Buddy, let me tell you that was never going to happen. In the time you’ve been gone I’ve had HQ contact me with three missions that I’m supposed to be on and each time, this young lady has told me I’m going nowhere. So here we have waited,” replied Stefan, with an exasperated look but smiling all
