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Biography
Ian Jay served as a flight engineer and weapons
systems technician in the Royal Australian Air Force for over 22 years. In that
time he operated as a flight engineer on several different aircraft types
including the C–130 Hercules, the HS 748 and the Chinook helicopter. He left the
RAAF to take up a career as a logistics analyst with a major Australian
aerospace company.
He lives in
‘To Do or Die’ (Prequel to ‘Maximum
Effort’)
‘Echidna’
Log on: www.ianjay.com.au
www.zeus-publications.com Contact:
Author’s Note This novel is a
work of fiction. Any procedures,
practices and policies mentioned herein are not intended to be representative of
those that are employed by the Australian Defence Forces or any Australian
Government agencies. Reference to operational units, bases and locations are
used only to create realism and do not necessarily represent actual units and
bases. In writing this work, I did not intend to present events or circumstances
that reflect unfavourably on the Australian Defence Forces or any other
Australian Federal, State or Local organisations. All of the
characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead is purely coincidental.
For those who came in late…
(Apologises to Mister Falk!) This book
continues on from my first novel, To Do or Die which featured as the central
character, Derek (Macca) McKay. Macca is a Royal Australian Air Force C-130
Hercules flight engineer. He rose to prominence after being recruited into a
secret government organization called Sentinel and helping to crush an uprising
on a neighbouring island nation, Costa Mauri by exposing an arms conspiracy.
That operation was called Plan Copperhead and Sentinel’s operations leader is
Army Major Jason Roberts. Following Macca’s discoveries during the incident on
Costa Mauri, the leader of an illegal criminal agency known as Dawn was arrested
and is now serving ten years in prison. Macca is married
to At present Macca
is happily working as an instructor teaching the next generation of Hercules
flight engineers the tricks of the trade.
Part One
Gone Fishin’
Chapter 1(Part sample) January, 2006‘Daddy, Daddy! I got one! Daddy look!’ I gave Steven’s
rod back to him, the reel and line still looking more like a bird’s nest than
fishing kit and crossed to the other side of the boat. Chloe was holding the
blunt end of the Rex Hunt special with two hands and pulling up on the tip. It
had a radius that even impressed me. Chloe indeed had one; the end was shaking
like it was carrying 240 volts. I took hold of the handle. ‘Okay, don’t let
go! I’ll help you. Wind it in. The handle darling, wind the handle. The other
way.’ She got the drift and began to rotate the handle on the reel while I
lowered the tip to reduce the strain. ‘Is it big? I
think it’s a big one, Daddy,’ she chatted excitedly. ‘Probably, just
keep winding,’ I replied looking overboard and searching for the first flash of
silver. Steven said,
‘Dad, when are you going to fix my tangle?’ ‘Soon, mate. I’m
helping your sister.’ Pete said, ‘Can
we go to that new spot at I glanced at him
standing at the steering console, ‘Soon, Pete.’ He always wanted to move because
it meant driving and we did well two days previously at nearby ‘Oh Daddy, I saw
it, I saw it!’ ‘Me too.’ Steven wandered
over poking me in the ear with the tip of his rod. ‘Hey, watch where…’ I
started, then stopped as I noticed a second flash of silver. ‘Shit, shark!’
Pete yelled. Chloe shrieked as
the two-metre predator zeroed in on the trevally just breaking the surface. She
let go of her rod and jumped back colliding with Steven and knocking him over.
The sight of the shark startled me as well and I recoiled tripping on the
retrieval net and falling backwards onto the two children. I let go of the rod
going down. The shark then hit the trevally (according to Pete) and took it and
the rod overboard. We staggered up and looked overboard. There was nothing to
see, it was all over. We stood there for a moment letting our collective heart
rates come down. Then Chloe said, her voice wavering, ‘Can we go home now?’ I looked at the
three year old and smiled, ‘I think so. Waddya reckon, boys?’ Everyone agreed
that we had fished enough and Pete started the engine and drove us back to the
boat ramp. Later, after I
recounted my version of events to my wife Tracy, I wondered when I would go
fishing again hoping it would be soon. There’s an old
saying that goes a lot like: Be careful what you wish for; it might just come
true.
*** This was our
third holiday at Port Douglas on coastal As you can
imagine, Trace was not particularly impressed with this turn up for the books.
The boys loved it and secretly, I did too. However, I felt I had better agree
with Trace, for the time being anyway. After assessing what needed to be done to
get the place liveable, we set about the renovation activity, McKay style. Most of that
first three-week vacation was doing just that, and considering the help we had
(three children more interested in the beach than the paintbrush) it turned out
quite reasonable. The residence itself is a fibro two-bedroom shack. It has a
compact (read small) kitchen and combined lounge/dining room. The Master bedroom
is quite large and has the only built in wardrobes. The yard is also a decent
size and, came complete with carport and an adjoining shed. Pete decided the
shed would be his bedroom and he set it up for himself, sharing it with our
fifteen-foot aluminium runabout, the Maccarel. I didn’t mind, it meant
Chloe didn’t have to share with Trace and me. Steven and his sister bunked in
the remaining bedroom. Pongo Junior, our three-year old German Sheppard, slummed
it on the veranda. So here we are,
sipping cool drinks on a balmy tropical night looking at the house across the
road. Well…our place isn’t exactly on the beach as we were lead to believe; we
are one street back from it. Apparently, it was though, when originally
constructed in the sixties. Steven wandered
out and said, ‘Good night.’ He was kissed and cuddled and sent to join his
sister in the land of nod. Pete was already in the Pit down the back. Trace
asked me to refresh her G and T and I had only just opened the refrigerator when
she called from the veranda. ‘Derek. Come out
here.’ I grabbed my
stubbie, her glass with a liberal measure of Gin, the tonic water and carried
the lot out. There was a car
moving slowly up our street. ‘It passed by
once and is coming back,’ Trace said as I joined her at the handrail. I watched
it approach our frontage, then slow and pull in. Trace said,
‘That’s not who I think it is, is it?’ ‘I think it is,’
I replied. Our suspicions
were confirmed when we saw Jason Roberts ease himself from behind the steering
wheel. I welcomed Jason
at the front door and invited him in. As he reacquainted himself with Trace, I
got another beer from the fridge. I joined them as the initial small talk was
still progressing. Pongo Jr. had a quick sniff and finding him of little
interest settled into his normal position beside Trace. ‘I had trouble
finding the street.’ ‘It’s hardly a
huge town, Jason. I thought you Army boys could navigate,’ Trace commented
smiling. Jason laughed.
‘Actually, I used my training; I asked at the pub.’ ‘So what brings
to this neck of the woods, Jas,’ I asked handing him his beer and sitting. ‘Thanks,’ he said
and took a long pull. Then he added, ‘I wanted to see you.’ ‘You know we’re
leaving in a couple of days. If you wanted to see Derek, surely you could have
waited,’ Trace observed. ‘I wanted to
check out Château McKay for myself, besides, I bear good news,’ Jason replied. ‘Oh yeah,’ I
responded, sarcastically, ‘beware of strangers bearing gifts and good
news.’ Jason smiled,
‘Guy’s relax, I’m not a stranger and the news is that you’re not required back
at the squadron and you can have an extra two weeks holiday.’ Trace immediately
looked my way. I showed no reaction as this was news to me, and I might add, I
felt an immediate sense of concern. I said, ‘They sent you on that errand?’ Jason looked away
and took another swig. ‘No, not just that. I needed to speak to you about
something.’ ‘Something?’
Trace repeated sounding suspicious. ‘Something that’s
sensitive.’ He looked at Trace and then me and then to Trace again, ‘Eyes only.’ There was a pause
as both Trace and I digested the statement. Finally, Trace said, ‘That’s another
way of saying need-to-know isn’t it?’ Jason nodded. I
felt a little ill. Trace stood, ‘The answer’s No, Jason.’ She looked at me, her
eyes set. ‘Isn’t it, Derek?’ I managed a weak smile. I was feeling two emotions
at that moment. One was the do the right thing and agree with the missus
option. The other, was the one bastards like Jason Roberts used on weak men like
me with great effectiveness; the feeling of anxiousness and excitement when an
unexpected job comes up and you’ve been requested to be part of it. That was my
Achilles’ heel. It’s a reflection of your skill and professionalism and I fell
for it hook, line and sinker. Finally, I said, ‘I’d better hear Jason out. After
all, he’s come all this way.’ Trace maintained
her glare, then she nodded and said, ‘Okay Derek, you go along with this and
you’ll be batching for those two extra weeks.’ She stormed inside slamming the
sliding screen door against the jam. Jason looked at
me and half smiled. I said, ‘Don’t get cocky, Jas. I said I’d listen.’ ‘That’s what
Ripley said in Aliens.’ I smiled at the
reference and I was surprised at Jason’s attitude. He knew he had me and that it
would be me, not him that would deal with Trace. I decided that I’d listen to
the story and then decide. No harm in that. ‘Okay, talk.’
Jason leaned forward. ‘What do you know about the over water surveillance?’ I shrugged. ‘Fuck
all.’ ‘What about
Project Gilbert?’ ‘Never heard of
it.’
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