Tara s Bayou Level 1 Fresh Meat
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‘Friends of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra request the pleasure of Mr. & Mrs. P. O’Brien.’ The invitation had arrived weeks earlier and reluctantly Peter had accepted.
Immediately after Christmas, they flew to Sydney and Jennifer went shopping for an evening gown by herself. She adamantly refused to tell Peter what she had purchased or to model it for him.
He tried to entice her to reveal her secret as he stood with her on the balcony with his hands slowly massaging her neck and shoulders, pleading that he really needed to know.
****** THAT FATEFUL SUNDAY NIGHT
Peter had at last mastered the art of dressing in his white tie and tails as he waited for Jennifer. He stared out over the Opera House sails, musing that in his whole life he had never before dressed himself in such formal wear. Even for the night he had danced with Jennifer on the stage at Die Fledermaus a tailor had dressed him, fussing over him making certain Peter was a walking advertisement for his business. Then a polite cough interrupted his thoughts.
‘Well?’
As he spun to look, Peter’s quick reaction was, ‘Wow! Turn around.’
Jennifer could feel his eyes roaming over her as she turned and displayed her new gown. Peter’s breathing became more and more ragged as she preened herself like some human female version of a peacock.
The subdued dark gold gown with its triangular handkerchief-shaped, plain bodice with absolutely no back hung from a diamond-studded dog collar to drape down the sides of her breasts clearly revealing she was wearing no bra. The skirt began low at her hips, flowing from a soft gathering of fabric to flare at her ankles, joining the bodice at the front and leaving her back bare of any straps.
Open- toed gold sandals with diamante straps and stiletto heels accentuated her dainty feet and her red painted toenails.
‘I sure hope the Hollywood tape is strong enough to hold everything in place,’ Peter commented with frivolous amusement, ‘or should I follow you around all night with my hands holding everything in place. That would be my pleasure. Can I practise now?’
Jennifer responded with a giggle as she whirled about to make her way to the lift. She turned to speak to her husband and was surprised to notice that Peter was still standing there, staring at her.
He was having second thoughts of his wife flaunting her charms in public. ‘Jennifer, don’t you consider you are showing too much flesh and the men might genuinely believe you are hunting or available?’
Obviously, he was worried and jealously wanted to protect his wife.
Jennifer walked to her husband and lifted his hands to her lips. She kissed each hand.
‘Peter I’m yours and I was once called ‘The Ice Maiden’. Well any man who tried anything funny would find this iceberg would sink his Titanic.’
‘I’m yours and yours alone and I’m dressed like this for you only.’
Smiling she stood on her tiptoes to reach up and kiss his cheek. ‘Your worry makes me feel proud of you as my loving loyal mate. Come my love, enjoy tonight and don’t be jealous, I’m yours forever.’
The chauffeur-driven limousine halted at the entrance gate of the Hunter’s Hill Mansion.
Two burly guards with six guard dogs investigated them and their invitation, carefully shining their torches over them.
Jennifer shivered.
The guards paused in their inspection of her and this inspection was much more intense than their inspection of Peter. They were stripping her naked under their gaze.
Clinging to Peter’s hand, she wished she had been conservative in her dressing. However, it was far too late for second thoughts as they stepped into the mansion.
Peter held Jennifer close to him, fending off the lecherous looks of other men, but as the night of partying progressed, the wife of the host dragged him away.
Jennifer watched a tall, willowy, incredibly beautiful Asian take Peter’s arm.
She had no time for her jealousy to build as a handsome young man – addressed by one of the guards as Pretty Boy – immediately handed her a glass of punch and demanded she dance with him.
Pretty Boy became her constant companion never leaving her side, dancing with her and keeping her glass well filled.
Many drinks later, Jennifer was no longer wondering where Peter had gone. She offered no resistance to this handsome man, Pretty Boy, as he led her to the quiet surrounds of the swimming pool where they continued dancing. Seeming to be blissfully unaware that he was pulling her obscenely close to his body, she just moved to the music.
Jennifer didn’t object when he made her wrap her arms around his neck while his hands wandered across her bare back and dived below the waistband of her dress.
Unaware of Pretty Boy’s interest in Jennifer, Peter followed the hostess into the far reaches of the mansion where he suddenly realized that not all was what it had seemed. He stared at the Thai woman and suddenly his mind slipped back to his lessons in the brothel at Bukit Mertajam and he knew.
Her eyes confirmed his suspicion. This was no true woman but a Thai katoey, a ladyboy.
The Asian woman tried leading him into a bedroom.
Screaming, ‘No!’ in perfect Thai, Peter threw her to the floor. He was not interested and the Thai katoey looked strangely apprehensive as she struggled to rise.
Suddenly fearful that he had left Jennifer alone, Peter turned away. He became more and more perturbed as he thoroughly searched room after room to no avail. Distraught, his heart pounding, he feared what had happened when he left Jennifer alone.
Finally, he stepped outside into the pool area in his frenzied hunt.
Incredulous, he watched two figures dancing, his wife wrapped around Pretty Boy as if he were her beloved and Pretty Boy’s hands sliding down inside her dress to cup her bare buttocks.
Peter, catlike, stalked his prey certain that his approach was silent, and Pretty Boy remained unaware of his presence.
His hands flashed before Pretty Boy’s eyes to clutch him by the throat.
Gasping for air, Pretty Boy found himself flying high through the air to splash fully clothed into the deepest section of the pool. When he struggled back to the side Peter’s hand reached out to yank at his hair. No matter how hard he struggled, down he went until he believed that he was about to drown. Three times, he went down before Peter allowed him to breathe.
Staring into the hate-filled eyes of Peter, he heard the warning, ‘Touch my wife again and you’re a dead man. Anyone who touches Jennifer is a dead man walking.’
Peter gave a demonical laugh striking a chord of fear in Pretty Boy as he added viciously, ‘He won’t be walking long.’
Only then, did Peter rise from his knees and turn to Jennifer who was just swaying to the music, staring into space, blissfully unaware of the commotion around her.
Laughing, Peter folded himself into her arms. ‘Sweetheart, you’ve had too much to drink.’ Looking into her eyes, he recognized that drugs not alcohol affected her. He led her away, knowing it was useless to explain anything to her while she was in this state
‘Now it’s my turn to look after the drunk in the family,’ he said, with a touch of wry amusement in his voice.
As they walked to their waiting limousine, Peter could feel tension, hatred and lust enveloping them within a thick wall of emotion. He had interrupted something evil and he didn’t know what it was.
Mysteriously, guards and their dogs appeared to escort them, but the fierce glare in his eyes and his military stature made them fall back. They sensed he wasn’t the least intimidated by their attitude and presence, even though they were heavily armed.
In the car, Peter shuddered. A clear image of the old man of the jungle seemed to materialise in his mind, repeating, ‘The gods demand a payment and a harsh reckoning it will b
e!’
Shaking his head to clear his mind and yet feeling perturbed and apprehensive, he held Jennifer in the tight protection of his arms with his face in her hair.
Silently he prayed that their god would give them the emotional resolution necessary for the payment that he sensed was about to be demanded.
Safely back home, he remembered his drunken binge before they had married. Carefully, Peter undressed Jennifer and put her to bed, disregarding his body’s needs to love her. Instead, he cuddled her and realized that she was asleep long before her head hit the pillow.
He wasn’t prepared to tell her that ‘Pretty Boy’ had drugged her.
****** THAT FATEFUL MONDAY
Work called and Jennifer watched Peter rise.
‘My head is splitting!’ she exclaimed. ‘Sweetheart, I believe I made a complete ass of myself, as I can’t remember anything about last night.
‘Yet I’m positive I had only one fruit punch. Everything’s a complete blank after that first drink. That handsome young man demanded that I dance with him after you had gone off with that beautiful woman.’
‘That was no woman. That was a Thai ladyboy.’ Peter’s lips curled in extreme distaste.
‘But at least we’re both safe. Now you’d better get to work, as you’re due in court at 11am. Are you okay, because I really have to rush?’
When Peter arrived ready to open the workshop, he considered it strange that one of the security guards was standing at the shutters, but perhaps he was suspicious after the happenings of the previous night. He was even more mistrustful when he saw a black Mercedes parked up the road.
‘Open.’ Peter sounded happy. The guard seemed to hesitate until Peter added, ‘I’ve left my keys behind.’ He backed his car away from the driveway.
What happened next was unbelievable.
A sudden blast reverberated in Peter’s ears as a fireball belched from the workshop through the half-opened shutters. A scream echoed from the throat of the guard. The crash of his body through the shop front across the road cut short his shriek.
The force of the eruption hurled Peter’s car into the air and onto its side. Bleeding, Peter lay stunned covered in glass from the shattered windscreen and windows.
The sudden roar of flames broke the silence following the blast. Hammered into Peter’s brain was the screech of tires, as the black Mercedes fled.
Peter couldn’t believe the hell that had broken out around him
Then he could hear the harsh scream of sirens – more and more sirens as he struggled free of his car. On his feet but dazed, he charged toward the main office door that opened from the street.
Breaking into the building, he played the office fire extinguisher over the seat of the fire until fire officers shouldered him away.
Ambulances joined the melee and the paramedics would not let Peter do a thing until they had checked him all over and had attended to his cuts, staunching the bleeding.
Police, firemen and reporters all fought to interview Peter who watched as more paramedics recovered the remains of the guard from the shop front opposite.
It wasn’t until Joe and the workers arrived minutes later and commenced to clean up that Peter’s thoughts turned to Jennifer.
He went next door to Bill’s office to call Jennifer’s Personal Assistant.
‘There’s been an explosion at the workshop, please tell Jennifer I’m safe.’
Jennifer’s P. A. took the message. ‘I will when I see her, Peter, but I’m afraid she didn’t come into the office and didn’t make her scheduled court appearance,’ was the brief reply. ‘I’ve tried ringing her but no answer. Is she okay? Are you okay?’
Peter sagged, and again those comments of the wise man of the East cut through his consciousness. ‘The gods demand a payment and a harsh payment it will be.’
‘Joe,’ Peter sounded distant, ‘Jennifer’s missing and I’m very worried and frightened. Put someone in charge and drive with me. I need you to keep me sane.’
The police blocked their exit.
‘Forensic have discovered that this was no accidental explosion. Someone flagrantly tampered with the shutters so that whoever unlocked and began to open up would die. Have you any enemies Mr. O’Brien? Have there been an extortion demands.’
Eventually, their enquiries satisfied, the police officers left. With Joe driving, Peter set off in search of Jennifer. They headed for the apartment, as that was the last place Peter had seen his wife.
On the bed at their apartment, Peter found Jennifer’s beautiful dark gold dress displayed on the bed. Lying on top of the gown was a note.
‘Peter my love. You looked after me when I was drunk. Now we’re even. I love you more and more each day. Tonight, just for you, I will dress in these clothes that I wore last night and you can…
‘I can’t continue as I’m blushing as I write. Be home early. I want a long, long night with my husband, my lover, my heart.’
Peter reddened as he felt Joe’s arm across his shoulders.
‘That wife of yours sure does love you boss,’ Joe said. Obviously he’d also read the note.
Leaving the apartment, they followed the route Jennifer would have taken to work until suddenly Peter shouted, ‘Stop! Up that alley.’
A quick U-turn and a right turn took them into the alley where they pulled up behind Jennifer’s car. It was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. Peter glanced around trying to make some sense of the conundrum.
A street person rose from the gutter across the alley and slowly approached them. Peering at them through bleary, blood-shot eyes and breathing alcoholic fumes he croaked, ‘I was ordered to give you these two messages. ‘Next time it’s you. The tart will die if you try to find her.” He shuffled off.
Growling, Joe steadied Peter. ‘They definitely want a bloody fight, and now the bastards have got one. This is one they won’t win.’ Then he broke into a long string of Italian curses.
He helped Peter walk across the road to the Post Office where Peter made the first of two overseas phone calls in languages that Joe couldn’t recognize.
His third call didn’t surprise Joe at all. ‘Elizabeth, ask Andrew to go to a public phone in Melbourne and ring…’ and he gave the phone number of the BMW Dealer. ‘Tell him to ask for Bill if it’s in business hours. If out of hours, I’ll be there.’
He listened to Elizabeth for a minute.
‘Yes, big things are developing here so I need Andrew. Yes, I’m okay – there’s been an explosion at the workshop but I’m safe. Yes, Jennifer is well. I must rush, as the Police are thoroughly investigating the incident. Tell Andrew to ring.’
He paused while Elizabeth repeated the phone number. ‘It’s most important,’ he confirmed. ‘We’ll be down next weekend. I must rush – bye!’
With a sinking feeling and showing extreme distress, Peter drove the Mini home.
Joe took him to the workshop where the firemen and the staff were still cleaning up.
In spite of his fury, Peter said nothing to anyone but made his way straight to Bill’s office next door where he locked the door once Joe and Susie joined them.
‘I believe Jennifer’s been kidnapped and I’m waiting for a ransom demand.’ Peter was frank to the point of being brutal.
Ignoring their questions he continued, explaining how he feared that there could be worse in store as he outlined what Dingo had said about Jennifer, and the happenings of the previous night. He sagged into a seat and wept as he cursed himself for his own stupidity.
‘Why didn’t I tell her to be on guard? Why didn’t I tell her of my suspicions? Why didn’t …’
Susie’s rush to cradle her friend in her arms stopped his self-recriminations. Holding him at arm’s length, she softly told him to stop his nonsense and to pull himself together. ‘You aren’t alone. We’re in this together.’
Peter hugged her. ‘All right, you say you’re in this fight with me. Susie your
priority is your baby, and I guarantee that my guards will be constantly with you to keep the two of you safe from these imbeciles, whoever they are.
‘However, I must warn you it will be a fierce fight to the death. In Ancient Sparta, the women sent their menfolk off to battle with the words, ‘Return with your shield or upon it.’ A Spartan mother wished her son to return from war either victorious, carrying his shield, or being carried upon it after falling in battle.
‘My pledge to you for this battle is that I will return carrying my shield.
‘Obviously, I can’t add much more except to say that Andrew will be ringing here tonight.
‘Bill, can you get six scramblers so phone calls can’t be intercepted?
‘Next, I’m about to replace the security guards as that explosion couldn’t have happened without the connivance of the security and I want 100% loyalty from everyone, or else their resignations.’
‘The one weak link in our chain is dead,’ Bill remarked with a grim voice. ‘I was coming to see you this week about the guard who was killed as I believed he wasn’t pulling his weight and was up to no good.
‘He was deep into debt and involved in some shady deals. I was going to ask you to sack him but he left our service prematurely.’ Bill’s chuckle was almost evil.
A council of war followed between Joe, Bill, Susie and Peter.
Joe pointed out that they could not inform anyone other than Mark of what was happening. It was imperative that Mark, who took most of the phone calls, knew what was happening.
Everyone agreed that Joe tell Mark as little as possible but to insist that he handle unusual calls correctly.
During the discussion, Peter requested that they help in providing cars from among the trade-ins, food for his workshop apartment and a steady stockpile of clean clothes.
‘No expense is to be spared. You have unlimited credit and you may use petty cash from the workshop to pay for everything. We inform Mark and no one else of the events – especially the police.’
He insisted on their support whenever requested without asking any questions or expecting any answers. ‘A lot of people will die over this affair and I don’t propose to be one of them, nor Jennifer nor any of you.’
‘No questions no pack drills – agreed? I’ll advise Andrew to arrive tomorrow with some of my Ghurkha friends. However, I want no one else, not even Ted or Bob, to know what’s happened or to become involved.
‘Jennifer’s on the farm if anyone outside this room asks, and I’m flat out organizing the Sydney end of water harvesting schemes.
‘Remember, if we’re to rescue Jennifer safely we mustn’t mention a word outside this room. No phone calls out until the scramblers are in place, and definitely no phone calls to me without using the scrambler. You are to give me any special messages in person. We don’t know how good the enemies’ spy system is and we certainly don’t need to warn them.
‘We can’t, with any degree of certainty, identify the enemy at this stage. I have my suspicions but nothing definite and we can’t act on suspicions.’
Peter got to his feet and prepared to leave.
‘Now let’s just go about our business as normal. I’ll be in the workshop until the end of the day and when its time to close I’ll come in here ready for Andrew’s call. War has been officially declared, and we will win!’
The workshop had looked worse but Peter couldn’t remember when.
Insurance assessors had called and their business cards were on the office table with formal requests for Peter to call.
Joe openly spoke with all the workers, demanding that they allow no stranger in the workshop under any circumstances. They were to call Peter, Bill next door, security or him if anything strange aroused their suspicions, no matter how trivial.
Later Joe spoke of his own plans to Peter, privately. ‘I’ll inform some friends of mine.’ Peter’s glare interrupted him. ‘No, Peter! Do you think I’m an idiot?’
Joe was quick to reassure Peter. ‘I’ll make no direct reference to Jennifer or about our troubles, not even to my wife, but I’ll be stating that Dingo’s possibly stepped out of line and requesting them to keep me up-to-date with his movements or anything unusual brewing on that front.
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