Choices. Jeff Edwards

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СКАЧАТЬ the murder of thirty Australian citizens, along with four British, three American, and five Germans. For those actions alone you stand condemned by the world at large. But to make matters worse you chose to murder twenty of your own innocent countrymen.’

      The Australian reached Abbas and used his foot to roll the cleric onto his back.

      ‘Amongst the people you murdered was the greatest surfer who ever lived. Twelve world titles Alby Nelson won, and he could have won more if you and your gang of murderers had not slain those innocent people. Do you understand what an achievement winning that many titles means? Do you understand what sort of commitment and skill that took? And you murdered him. You put an end to that great talent. The world will never forgive you for that. He was already a legend and you killed him. Now the world will never know how great he could have become.’

      Abbas noted silently that the length of tubing in the foreigner’s hand had been sharpened at one end. Now that sharpened point was being placed on his chest with the Australian’s hands holding the other end.

      ‘I know you can understand me Abbas, so heed my words. You chose to do wrong and now the time of retribution has come. Pray now while you can, but I hope the Prophet recognises you for what you really are. Welcome to the worst day of your life. This is for my friends in Sanur.’

      Utterly powerless to defend himself with either words or actions Abbas could only watch through eyes of utter horror as the stake was driven through his chest.

      The Australian watched for a short time until he was sure that the life of his victim had passed, and then he casually turned and made his way out of the garden, being sure to remove the surgical gloves he wore as he did so.

      He stopped at a vacant allotment some way down the road and casually tossed the gloves into a pile of garbage that had accumulated there.

      Feeling satisfied with his efforts the man checked his watch.

      More than enough time to catch a wave or two before dinner, he smiled.

      THE FOLLOWING YEAR

      Abu Bin Ahmad stepped from his house surrounded by his bodyguards.

      As an electrical engineer Ahmad had never needed protection, but after falling under the spell of the late cleric Din Nassir Abbas and becoming his bomb maker, all that had changed. Murphy’s Bar had been a triumph of his workmanship, and although the attack on the Australian High Commission had resulted in casualties amongst the locals only, the message had been made loud and clear. Foreigners and their views were not wanted in this country.

      As he had been for the last few days, the old beggar was waiting for Ahmad in his place, propped up against the stone wall with his brass begging bowl in hand, praying loudly for Allah’s blessings to be showered upon his benefactor.

      Ahmad smiled at the unfortunate old man as he took a small note from his wallet and dropped it in the battered bowl.

      Just as he did so the old man seemed to lose his footing, and staggered toward the engineer.

      Ahmad thought the beggar was grabbing for the hand holding the wallet, and he swiftly raised it out of the old man’s reach. At the same moment his ever alert bodyguards moved in to pin the arms of the old man.

      The beggar screeched his apologies for touching his benefactor as the bodyguards were dragging him away from their client. They pushed him roughly into the roadway, where the old man stood bowing and calling further apologies as Ahmad and his entourage moved off.

      * * *

      From his vantage point further down the street the Australian smiled. If he hadn’t know what was about to happen he would have missed the beggar’s movements entirely.

      Now he followed the group from a safe distance, waiting for his opportunity.

      A break in the pedestrian traffic had the bomber and his men isolated at last, and the Australian quickly took the opportunity to place a call on his phone.

      Inside Ahmad’s pocket his mobile phone began to vibrate, and he took it out while wondering which of his children had been playing with it and switched off the ringtone.

      Unconcerned, he placed the phone to his ear. ‘Yes?’

      Ahmad had barely registered the fact that the voice on the other end spoke with a distinctively foreign accent. ‘He who lives by the sword shall die by the sword,’ he heard a microsecond before the small shaped charge of C4 explosive within the ear-piece erupted, removing half of Ahmad’s head from his shoulders and spraying his ineffectual protectors with blood and bone.

      The Australian dropped his phone on the roadway and crushed it under his foot, making sure to break it into several pieces. These he collected and scattered in numerous rubbish bins as he made his way back to the beach. The call could be traced, but the phone that made the call would never be found, nor its owner detected.

      I hope the surf has picked up, he thought to himself. There was nothing worth riding when I left my room this morning.

      CHAPTER 1

      It was the worst day of Dan Travers’ life.

      He waited impatiently for his name to be called, and for his years of an easygoing life to come to an abrupt end. Dan knew what was about to happen, and that there was no way for him to avoid the train crash that was about to befall him. I suppose it had to end eventually, he thought wryly. It has all been too good to be true. But what am I to do now? What’s to become of my family? They’re depending on me. What if I’m sent to jail?

      Dan’s guts were tied up in knots and his mouth felt dry. It was as though every drop of moisture had been sucked from his body. If it had been about him alone he believed that he could have endured what they were about to do, but he had Sandy, Brook and Josh relying on him, and he had to do whatever he could to protect them.

      A sudden thought occurred to him like a whisper from the past. What if? he thought. No! That would never work. Would it?

      Desperation shaped his thoughts, and the glimmer of an idea took root in his imagination. He tried to shake it as being completely unworkable but no other alternatives could be found, and the final choice was between very little hope and no hope at all. Shaking his head, he dismissed the idea as entirely too fanciful and steeled himself for the inevitable.

      * * *

      ‘Daniel Travers,’ cried the clerk of the court.

      His legs felt like jelly as Dan made his way forward and stood in the dock, waiting for the oath to be administered.

      The Independent Commission Against Corruption is not a regular court of law. It is presided over by a judge and there is a prosecutor, but there all similarity to an actual court ends. The commission investigates but does not prosecute. No one is on trial here so witnesses don’t have a legal representative to act on their behalf. The person is brought before the commission simply to answer its questions, and they are required to do so under oath with all the penalties under the law for those who are found to have attempted to mislead it in any way.

      When the commission completes its dealings a report of its findings are prepared, complete with any recommendations it cares to make. It is only when those recommendations are СКАЧАТЬ