Number 39 by Greg Tuck

Author:Greg Tuck
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder, hong kong, police, drug, kidnap, ransom, hostage, cairns, diamonds, triad
Publisher: Greg Tuck

Chapter 20

Sarge was in a whirl of pain. It was both physical and mental, mainly mental though. The bruising and the burns were slowly healing. He knew that later in life the severe dislocations they had done to his fingers would cause arthritis but right now the swelling was subsiding. Surprisingly they seemed to hurt even more now. Perhaps the swelling was his body’s way of cushioning the pain and giving time to heal. In a way it was a good thing as the pain reminded him that he was a victim and it gave him focus too; focus to escape, focus to enact revenge. He was a police officer he knew and was supposed to set aside feelings and just get on with the job but this was becoming too much for even his normally placid soul. They had emotionally hurt Sarah and for that they would pay a price, perhaps not immediately but they would pay a price.

As the anger boiled, common sense began to quell the flames a little. He had no chance of escape from where he was, wherever that may be. He had no means of identifying his captors. He wasn’t sure what if anything had happened to Sarah. He would have to bide his time and wait for an opportunity. To be ready for that opportunity he needed to clear his mind of all anger and all fear. As tough as this was it was not as bad as when he went skiing. That was fear he had no control of.

He could laugh about it now but back then…… his mind began to drift back to the time when his misguided marriage had collapsed finally to his relief. A mate had conned him into spending a few days skiing at Falls Creek as a means of getting a new look on life. He would have to fly down from Cairns and that was scary enough but as he could already water ski this snow skiing should come simple enough. How wrong could he be? He replayed every painful moment…………….

“Muscles just below my hips that I never knew existed ached. My right knee was sore and I was worried that it was going to swell up like a balloon. But worst of all, my ego was severely bruised and may never recover.

I’d just been skiing at a place where flat land appeared to take on horrendously steep gradients as I tried to manipulate two intransigent pieces of wood, or fibreglass, or whatever they’re made of, to get from point A to point B without falling on my own rearward facing point. If man were meant to move this way over snow, he would have been born with different shaped feet.

I looked the part clad in all right gear. Perhaps not so colourfully attired as all the rest, I resembled a skier, until I put those four by twos onto the end of my feet. A deep-sea diver must have used my boots in another lifetime.

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