JonDLundyn Parker #2 4/4
January 3rd 2007 18:15
Lundyn flew in to his search zone and within several minutes could make out the yacht in contrast to the sandy bottom in about fifteen metres of water. Bringing the Seawind in to land he flipped open the front opening perspex hatch and with the tie rope in his hand dived into the water. He had about a twenty-foot free dive to make and quickly secured the tie rope around the top of the mizzenmast, which was the only one still standing on the yacht. He quickly ascended using the rope to guide him straight back to the Seawind. He climbed up the ladder and towelled himself off. He changed his blue denim shorts for a brightly printed island sulu and polished two wine glasses from his picnic basket.
The seats in the Seawind were a specialty of his and could be swivelled so that the pilot and co-pilots seats could face the two passenger seats. This was his conference room. It could with some management also be tilted to form a single bunk of sorts, which was handy when doing long trips. Reaching into his iced cooler he pulled out a large pre steamed mud crab. He cracked off the shell, cleaned off the grey/green feelers and with his fore finger cleaned out the body slime leaving just the two huge powerful claws as well as the legs and body full of meat. With a pair of pliers from his tool kit he cracked the shell around the claws, then reaching into another basket puled out some fresh bread rolls. Some chequered tea towels served as both napkins and tablecloth. Now to await the radio operator off Mother Belle.
Roscoe Tanner swung his huge fist in an upper-cut that caught the biker on the tip of his chin. Without pausing to see the effect of his punch he bent at the waist and with a swivel of his thin hips and a slight bending of the knees cracked a leg swipe at a second biker approaching him from the side. The sweep caught the biker on the side of the throat and with his eyes rolling to the back of his head he collapsed on the bitumen of the car park. The third man was turning to run when Roscoe wrapped a muscular arm around his throat and with two fingers stabbed at the man’s veins popping up around his throat. The man collapsed in Roscoe’s arms and he lowered him to the ground.
A small crowd of drinkers from the pub attached to the car park had gathered to watch the fray. Breathing heavily he waved them back to the bar. Obediently they moved off goggle eyed. Many had heard of the prowess of their local bouncer but few had seen him handle anyone other than a drunken lout out to make a name for himself. These guys that Roscoe had just managed to floor in milliseconds were obviously of a much more threatening nature.
In the back of the car park Alby Woo sat in his car and feigned disinterest. As a plain clothes cop he could and should go over to arrest the men who had just attacked Roscoe. However as the instigator of the attack he was more concerned that Roscoe had not been beaten to a pulp as he had hoped. His hired gang would need to look after themselves he thought as he started his car. His plan for finding out what had happened to the money from a recent drug bust had just collapsed. He lit another smoke from the but of his smouldering cigarette and yanked his car into gear and drove off.
The seats in the Seawind were a specialty of his and could be swivelled so that the pilot and co-pilots seats could face the two passenger seats. This was his conference room. It could with some management also be tilted to form a single bunk of sorts, which was handy when doing long trips. Reaching into his iced cooler he pulled out a large pre steamed mud crab. He cracked off the shell, cleaned off the grey/green feelers and with his fore finger cleaned out the body slime leaving just the two huge powerful claws as well as the legs and body full of meat. With a pair of pliers from his tool kit he cracked the shell around the claws, then reaching into another basket puled out some fresh bread rolls. Some chequered tea towels served as both napkins and tablecloth. Now to await the radio operator off Mother Belle.
Roscoe Tanner swung his huge fist in an upper-cut that caught the biker on the tip of his chin. Without pausing to see the effect of his punch he bent at the waist and with a swivel of his thin hips and a slight bending of the knees cracked a leg swipe at a second biker approaching him from the side. The sweep caught the biker on the side of the throat and with his eyes rolling to the back of his head he collapsed on the bitumen of the car park. The third man was turning to run when Roscoe wrapped a muscular arm around his throat and with two fingers stabbed at the man’s veins popping up around his throat. The man collapsed in Roscoe’s arms and he lowered him to the ground.
A small crowd of drinkers from the pub attached to the car park had gathered to watch the fray. Breathing heavily he waved them back to the bar. Obediently they moved off goggle eyed. Many had heard of the prowess of their local bouncer but few had seen him handle anyone other than a drunken lout out to make a name for himself. These guys that Roscoe had just managed to floor in milliseconds were obviously of a much more threatening nature.
In the back of the car park Alby Woo sat in his car and feigned disinterest. As a plain clothes cop he could and should go over to arrest the men who had just attacked Roscoe. However as the instigator of the attack he was more concerned that Roscoe had not been beaten to a pulp as he had hoped. His hired gang would need to look after themselves he thought as he started his car. His plan for finding out what had happened to the money from a recent drug bust had just collapsed. He lit another smoke from the but of his smouldering cigarette and yanked his car into gear and drove off.
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