JonDlundyn Parker adventure #2 /2
November 10th 2006 21:06
On board Lundyn’s yacht, which he also calls home, the two men were in deep discussion. “I think you really took a chance knocking off that money and those packets of drugs. I know you didn’t think the cops should have it but you know how this stuff always gets back to us.”
“Yeah, I know,” replied Roscoe. “It was just such a spur of the moment thing. Those guys lying there dead all covered in each other’s gore. All they had been fighting about was this money and some drugs.” Roscoe hung his head. “I can’t give it back now. The cops have done the paper work and it would piss them off and I could just end up in jail for confessing my sins. Anyhow I could use a bit of the money for renovating the pub. The bistro and dining room could do with a going over. That would use half of it and I could use the rest for something else I guess.”
“Sure.” said Lundyn. “You can always use a half a million when it falls in your lap but it’s not like you actually need it. I can guarantee you that there is trouble on the horizon for this.”
“Well I’m sorry.” Roscoe replied. “I wasn’t thinking straight. We’ll be ok.”
“Hey.” replied Lundyn in his most shocked voice. “What’s with this ‘we’ pale face? We didn’t steal the drug lord’s money- you did. I wasn’t aware of it until you told me this morning.”
Roscoe sat glumly looking at his best mate. He looked like a repentant schoolboy except for his gorilla like appendages.
“Look mate.’ said Lundyn consolingly. “We’ll try and forget it. Just don’t go spending the money all over this town… and don’t try and give it to the church or any other charity. Money has a way of showing its source.”
Roscoe’s big battered face broke into a huge grin and he leant over and tapped Lundyn playfully with his giant paw. ‘Aaw we’re mates and I’m glad of that.”
Out of his freezer Lundyn had taken several abalone in their shells. They were now thawed and shelled. He started to trim away the frills. Carefully cutting thin strips of the fish he then dipped them into a tray of flour mixed with salt, pepper, paprika and oregano. There was an oyster sauce simmering on the stove and wilted buck choy on two plates with Hoi Sin noodles. He then heated a skillet to almost smoking point, drizzled in some vegetable oil and for two or three seconds a side he grilled the abalone. He then dipped the pieces in the oyster sauce and spooned the resultant dish over the buck choy. The aroma filled the cabin of the yacht and the two men ate with a relish.
Several days ago the police had interviewed them. Alby Woo, the local head of the drug squad, had been nosing about and sniffing around and generally giving the guys a hard time of it. Being the first on a murder scene and having broken down the door with an axe when the crew had been murdered with sharp instruments meant extra heavy interrogation. Of course there was plenty of evidence to contradict their involvement. The VHF calls and the sighting of their launch over five miles from the scene. Still, the police under Alby had spent a long time interviewing them. Lundyn knew Alby from his navy days when the ex Hong Kong cop had joined the New South Wales police force. He was a good cop that got to the heart of the matter quickly but Lundyn distrusted him. He lived a lifestyle that seemed to be just within his means as head of the Newcastle drug squad. Somehow, Lundyn felt that Alby was a little to well in the know to be all that good as an investigator. Some times results just seemed to fall in his lap.

They had some contact with Karen Phillips. She was back home now on Queensland’s Gold Coast. She was under suspicion for the drug trading but not for the murders. It would only be a matter of time before the forensics experts came to the same conclusion that Lundyn had. The skipper and the diver had each killed a crewman. Then the diver had tried to kill the skipper who had fought back and before dying he had stabbed the diver in the throat. There was no manifest of how much money or drugs had been on board. What was found was what the police accounted for, but Lundyn knew Alby was suspicious of them for more reasons than he had given.
Lundyn’s yacht was a forty-one foot long ketch rigged & timber hulled designed by William Garden. It was built in the early seventies for world cruising and as technology caught up with the world of sailing Lundyn had added it to his boat. He had bought the yacht at an Australian Custom’s clearance sale. The Australian Navy had first stopped the yacht as a possible target for people smuggling into Australia. Lundyn had been a diver on board the navy ship that intercepted the ketch. While the regular crew were conducting a search of the vessel topside he had been doing a dive recce underneath. What he found was nothing to do with people smuggling but some clever compartments in the keel of the yacht would certainly bear investigating by the Her Majesty’s Customs. Sure enough the yacht was loaded with drugs. Cleverly hollowed out sections of the timber boom, large sections of the keel had been cut away and re sealed, and the low-pressure gas bottle had been cut open filled with drugs and a much smaller dummy bottle inserted to give off a little gas if tested. All up there was well over fifteen million dollars street value. The vessel had been the subject of evidence during the trial and afterwards had gone to auction. Lundyn was only one of two bidders.

Lundyn and Roscoe had arranged to pick up the General from the Toronto wharf, as he was to join them for drinks in the afternoon and fishing that night. Lundyn brought the ketch, under motor, into the wharf and tied up to wait for the General. Roscoe was sitting on the mother-in-law seat that ran across the push pit, smoking his filthy roll-your-owns. Lundyn mused for the thousandth time how much smoke he must inhale when both Roscoe and the General were on board. He had never smoked but was sure that some times he hacked up as much tar as a confirmed tobacco addict. There was a light nor-easter blowing so Lundyn had decided that when the General was on board they would sail to Wangi using the large gennaker, main and mizzen. Roscoe had set up the gennaker for the hoist the moment that they were in clear water. The boom covers were off and the yacht was rearing to go.
Next: The enemy show themselves
“Yeah, I know,” replied Roscoe. “It was just such a spur of the moment thing. Those guys lying there dead all covered in each other’s gore. All they had been fighting about was this money and some drugs.” Roscoe hung his head. “I can’t give it back now. The cops have done the paper work and it would piss them off and I could just end up in jail for confessing my sins. Anyhow I could use a bit of the money for renovating the pub. The bistro and dining room could do with a going over. That would use half of it and I could use the rest for something else I guess.”
“Well I’m sorry.” Roscoe replied. “I wasn’t thinking straight. We’ll be ok.”
“Hey.” replied Lundyn in his most shocked voice. “What’s with this ‘we’ pale face? We didn’t steal the drug lord’s money- you did. I wasn’t aware of it until you told me this morning.”
Roscoe sat glumly looking at his best mate. He looked like a repentant schoolboy except for his gorilla like appendages.
“Look mate.’ said Lundyn consolingly. “We’ll try and forget it. Just don’t go spending the money all over this town… and don’t try and give it to the church or any other charity. Money has a way of showing its source.”
Roscoe’s big battered face broke into a huge grin and he leant over and tapped Lundyn playfully with his giant paw. ‘Aaw we’re mates and I’m glad of that.”
Out of his freezer Lundyn had taken several abalone in their shells. They were now thawed and shelled. He started to trim away the frills. Carefully cutting thin strips of the fish he then dipped them into a tray of flour mixed with salt, pepper, paprika and oregano. There was an oyster sauce simmering on the stove and wilted buck choy on two plates with Hoi Sin noodles. He then heated a skillet to almost smoking point, drizzled in some vegetable oil and for two or three seconds a side he grilled the abalone. He then dipped the pieces in the oyster sauce and spooned the resultant dish over the buck choy. The aroma filled the cabin of the yacht and the two men ate with a relish.
Several days ago the police had interviewed them. Alby Woo, the local head of the drug squad, had been nosing about and sniffing around and generally giving the guys a hard time of it. Being the first on a murder scene and having broken down the door with an axe when the crew had been murdered with sharp instruments meant extra heavy interrogation. Of course there was plenty of evidence to contradict their involvement. The VHF calls and the sighting of their launch over five miles from the scene. Still, the police under Alby had spent a long time interviewing them. Lundyn knew Alby from his navy days when the ex Hong Kong cop had joined the New South Wales police force. He was a good cop that got to the heart of the matter quickly but Lundyn distrusted him. He lived a lifestyle that seemed to be just within his means as head of the Newcastle drug squad. Somehow, Lundyn felt that Alby was a little to well in the know to be all that good as an investigator. Some times results just seemed to fall in his lap.

They had some contact with Karen Phillips. She was back home now on Queensland’s Gold Coast. She was under suspicion for the drug trading but not for the murders. It would only be a matter of time before the forensics experts came to the same conclusion that Lundyn had. The skipper and the diver had each killed a crewman. Then the diver had tried to kill the skipper who had fought back and before dying he had stabbed the diver in the throat. There was no manifest of how much money or drugs had been on board. What was found was what the police accounted for, but Lundyn knew Alby was suspicious of them for more reasons than he had given.
Lundyn’s yacht was a forty-one foot long ketch rigged & timber hulled designed by William Garden. It was built in the early seventies for world cruising and as technology caught up with the world of sailing Lundyn had added it to his boat. He had bought the yacht at an Australian Custom’s clearance sale. The Australian Navy had first stopped the yacht as a possible target for people smuggling into Australia. Lundyn had been a diver on board the navy ship that intercepted the ketch. While the regular crew were conducting a search of the vessel topside he had been doing a dive recce underneath. What he found was nothing to do with people smuggling but some clever compartments in the keel of the yacht would certainly bear investigating by the Her Majesty’s Customs. Sure enough the yacht was loaded with drugs. Cleverly hollowed out sections of the timber boom, large sections of the keel had been cut away and re sealed, and the low-pressure gas bottle had been cut open filled with drugs and a much smaller dummy bottle inserted to give off a little gas if tested. All up there was well over fifteen million dollars street value. The vessel had been the subject of evidence during the trial and afterwards had gone to auction. Lundyn was only one of two bidders.

Lundyn and Roscoe had arranged to pick up the General from the Toronto wharf, as he was to join them for drinks in the afternoon and fishing that night. Lundyn brought the ketch, under motor, into the wharf and tied up to wait for the General. Roscoe was sitting on the mother-in-law seat that ran across the push pit, smoking his filthy roll-your-owns. Lundyn mused for the thousandth time how much smoke he must inhale when both Roscoe and the General were on board. He had never smoked but was sure that some times he hacked up as much tar as a confirmed tobacco addict. There was a light nor-easter blowing so Lundyn had decided that when the General was on board they would sail to Wangi using the large gennaker, main and mizzen. Roscoe had set up the gennaker for the hoist the moment that they were in clear water. The boom covers were off and the yacht was rearing to go.
Next: The enemy show themselves
Lundyn's Ketch
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