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    Get Charlie Noah
    Get Charlie Noah
    Get Charlie Noah
    Ebook326 pages6 hours

    Get Charlie Noah

    By Drew Lindsay

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    About this ebook

    Charlie Noah’s husband wants her dead and will stop at nothing to achieve that goal. She is tall, voluptuous and vulnerable. Ex Detective Ben Hood is on holidays in Far North Queensland and their paths accidentally cross as Charlie attempts to hide from her husband’s killers. Ben can’t resist her cry for help and the chase is on as the killers pursue her from Australia to a small island in the South Pacific. Ben isn’t going to let anyone kill Charlie Noah but the killers are not about to let Ben stand in their way

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDrew Lindsay
    Release dateAug 23, 2015
    ISBN9781311626974
    Get Charlie Noah
    Author

    Drew Lindsay

    Drew Lindsay is a dynamic Australian Novelist and Writer. He has travelled extensively throughout Australia and the world. His background includes working as a Policeman and detective, then managing his own private investigation business as well as working in Fraud Investigation Management positions within the insurance industry.Drew is a PADI Divemaster and holds a private pilot's license. He has a great love of entertaining others with his vivid imagination. His novels allow the reader to escape into worlds of romance, excitement, humour and fast paced adventure. Drew lives in northern New South Wales with his wife.

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      Get Charlie Noah - Drew Lindsay

      INTRODUCTION

      There is a price to be paid for every action you take. The price may be financial loss or gain, emotional loss or gain, relationship loss or gain…but either way, whatever you do each day or perhaps even at night, is on the sea-saw of life and it will either go up or down, one way or another and some kind of toll will be required at the end of the day. The price you pay for an action that brings something positive into your life is still a price. Something will be lost in any attempt to be happy or successful or just get ahead and gain advantage in every single aspect of life.

      If things go well, we pay the necessary price willingly. If things go wrong, we live with regret.

      Charlie Noah had everything to live for. She was stunningly beautiful, rich, respected as a writer for newspapers and high class magazines in Australia and around the world. She was married to an extremely successful insurance high flyer, lived in a mansion overlooking Sydney Harbour and surrounded by well heeled friends who (she thought) respected and admired her. Most of the opulence which surrounded Charlie’s lifestyle came from her husband, Reginald Noah. Her own income was substantial but his bordered from time to time on the obscene.

      Quite by accident Charlie found out that her husband was sleeping with the extremely large breasted wife of a neighbour. Charlie’s breasts were always considered impressive. The 50 year old neighbour’s breasts however, were massive in comparison together with her obsession with oral sex. Charlie threatened to expose her husband’s affair in one of her newspaper columns. Reginald Noah locked her out of the family home. Charlie threatened to expose his corrupt and fraudulent dealings within the insurance company which employed him. Reginald threatened to have her severely beaten and Charlie knew he was very serious. She withdrew large sums of money from her private bank accounts and arranged for the construction of a totally new identity complete with relevant identification papers, driver’s license and certificates as well as a new off shore bank account. It’s not hard if you know the right people. Then she vanished.

      With some difficulty, she relocated far away from Sydney. She was still within Australia as this would be the perfect place for her to launch a full scale attack on her husband. He would never know what was about to hit him.

      She on the other hand, had no idea how much rage boiled within the heart of Reginald Noah, especially when he discovered that prior to her disappearance she had secretly withdrawn a considerable sum of money from one of his own bank accounts. He was a man who ALWAYS had control, especially where women were concerned. No one brought Reginald Noah down. He brought others down. That was his professional and personal expertise. He would find Charlie Noah and she would be severely punished and tortured if necessary until he had all his money back and was begging him for her life. He had enjoyed her briefly but now a price would be paid and he was willing to pay anything to stop her causing him professional and personal embarrassment or placing his liberty in danger.

      Stephen Pope wasn’t a man to be trifled with. As a child in South Africa, he had been bullied and bashed to the point where he wrapped himself inside a psychological cocoon and then his mind slowly festered as it planned numerous ways to get even with those who had caused his pain. His father was his first target. He successfully murdered his pompous, overbearing white South African father when he was just 13 years old. Cut his throat and made it look like a burglary gone wrong. The police didn’t suspect the boy for a moment. He was a polite, quiet boy who hid his rage and pathological tendencies carefully and expertly. Even his mother had no idea that her son was the killer.

      Stephen arrived in Australia in 2000 and by the time he was 46 years old in 2013 he had professionally killed 4 people and pocketed over half a million dollars in cash. He rented a small flat in Darlinghurst, close to the Sydney CBD under a false name. He occasionally used the services of prostitutes, both male and female but basically lived his life in shadow land. He had short cropped greying hair, pale white skin and a rather prominent nose which had been broken when he was a teenager and now tilted slightly to his left. He was almost 6 feet tall, thin but extremely fit. His eyes were hazel in colour but for some reason appeared to look grey…almost as if they were a dead man’s eyes. Stephen’s eyes in fact matched his soul. Both were dead notwithstanding the fact that he continued to breathe and work occasionally as one of the most deadly killers in Australia.

      Stephen was currently under contract and he had spent hours of fruitless time searching for the target social networks on his computer. He had put out feelers in all directions but one month after landing a very lucrative contract he still had no idea whatsoever where Charlie Noah was hiding. Stephen hated work that required him to search for the victim. He was used to having the target immediately located and identified so that he could carefully assess the situation and then strike quickly and efficiently. Charlie Noah seemed to have carefully hidden her tracks. He would make her pay for that because he hated searching for the target. In fact part of his contract was that this particular target was to be beaten to within an inch of her life in order that she could be interrogated by her husband. An interesting contract and one that he would enjoy immensely as long as it didn’t take too much longer to find the target. He would enjoy the kill at the end of the job. He wasn’t going to wait around for her husband to perform a stupid superiority act while she was close to death. He would simply find her and kill her. Stephen really enjoyed watching his victims die. He enjoyed watching the surprised and painful look on their face and the fear in their eyes as their life blood spurted away. He would have to try and discover all the places which Charlie Noah had enjoyed visiting in the past and perhaps check those areas if practicable. Then again, if he were in Charlie Noah’s shoes, perhaps it would be smarter to hide away in a place that was the total opposite to the favourite places. He would have to learn much more about Charlie Noah in order to have any hope of finding her. Getting to know her better however, had the advantage of making the beating and the kill all the more exciting.

      ****

      CHAPTER ONE

      Ex-Detective Sergeant Ben Hood sat uncomfortably in the waiting room of psychiatrist Doctor Jackson Pugh. Doctor Pugh’s room was situated on the 3rd floor of an old building in the centre of what was known as the medical specialist’s row in Macquarie Street, Sydney. Cafes sprawled out onto the footpath in this area. Medical specialists, doctors and the like from the high end of town rarely packed their own lunch to take to work so the restaurants and cafes thrived.

      Ben was taking a well deserved break from VIP protection work which had occupied his time and his mind almost continually since he and the Police Force had parted ways a couple of years before. He seemed to attract jobs which could have quite easily been fatal for him and in fact he had taken several beatings and suffered wounds that had taken a toll on him physically and mentally. He had met and on occasions become close to a number of women in conjunction with his work. The majority of these women were younger than him, some quite a bit younger and this troubled him and perhaps more so the owner of the company for which he worked. He was constantly criticised for what was considered a lack of proper judgement on his part where relationships were concerned and although for some time Ben had shrugged off such criticisms, more recently they had started to trouble him. His nightmares had also increased. His desire to enjoy life to the full had started to wane. At almost 53 years of age, he was starting to feel almost burnt out notwithstanding the fact that he was extremely fit and well trained and experienced in a very deadly form of martial arts.

      The owner of the VIP protection agency for which he worked, Rodney Reid, was reluctant to agree not to refer any further work to Ben and encouraged him…well in fact nagged him to the point where he eventually made an appointment to see Doctor Pugh. Rodney felt strongly that Ben should receive a professional assessment prior to just clearing off to some deserted part of Australia to bury his problems in solitude and perhaps alcohol. Doctor Pugh came highly recommended by a friend of a friend of Rodney’s so it was considered that he must be good.

      The receptionist at Doctor Pugh’s practice was an attractive woman in her early 30’s with long brown hair tied back in a pony tail. She had a remarkable figure which Ben had noticed as she left the room on one occasion. The white short sleeved blouse and tight black dress highlighted her curves. Her skin was olive and her facial features highlighted with just a hint of makeup. Ben caught her looking at him on one occasion and he noted her amazing deep brown eyes. Then he pinched himself on the leg because he realised that he was doing it again. This woman had him mesmerized and that was one of the reasons which had prompted professional assessment. Rodney was fairly blunt about it in suggesting that Ben was just sex crazy and had a questionable thing about younger women. Even Ben had begun to accept that this might be the case. Doctor Jackson Pugh would know and if the worst came to worse, he could be put on drugs or something.

      Doctor Pugh entered the waiting room from a doorway on the left. He smiled at the receptionist and then approached Ben. Jackson Pugh was a white Australian male around the same age as Ben but much shorter. The top of his head would have barely reached Ben’s shoulder. He was quite thin with thick greying hair and was clean shaven. He extended his hand. Ben stood and accepted the handshake. ‘I’m pleased to meet you Mr. Hood.’

      ‘Ben will be fine.’

      ‘Ben it is then. Have you met April?’

      ‘Yes, she made me very comfortable,’ said Ben, glancing at April. She smiled at him and Ben felt a shiver go through his upper chest.

      ‘Well then,’ said Pugh. ‘Let’s get to it shall we?’ He led the way to his consultation room and closed the door as Ben walked past him. The room was quite large and windows opposite the door looked out over The Royal Botanical Gardens. Double glazed windows shut out almost all sound from the street below. ‘I have a comfortable couch or you may wish to use the chair,’ said Pugh.

      ‘The chair will be fine,’ said Ben.

      Pugh took a seat on a large padded chair opposite the only other chair in the room. Ben sat down and crossed his right leg over his left knee. Pugh leaned towards a desk on his right and picked up a manila folder and a notepad. He was wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and dark green tie. He pulled a pen from the inside pocket of his suit coat. ‘Thank you for completing our online questionnaire Ben.’

      Ben didn’t reply.

      ‘It gave me quite an insight into why you are actually here.’

      Ben nodded.

      ‘You have issues which are common amongst men of our age although I myself have never had to grapple with Post Traumatic Stress. You on the other hand, clearly have.’

      Ben nodded again and unfolded his legs.

      ‘What do you think of my receptionist?’

      ‘Pardon?’

      ‘April. What do you think of her?’ asked Pugh.

      ‘She’s stunning,’ said Ben, wishing instantly he had used another descriptive term.

      ‘Would you consider taking her out on a date?’

      ‘I hardly think…’

      ‘Just hypothetically.’

      ‘I’d love to take her on a date,’ said Ben, ‘hypothetically.’

      ‘But she is at least 20 years younger than you,’ said Pugh.

      ‘So?’

      ‘Doesn’t that bother you?’

      ‘No,’ said Ben.

      ‘Would you take her to bed on the first date if she was agreeable?’

      ‘In a flash,’ said Ben.

      Pugh flipped open his large notebook and began to write. He scribbled for several minutes and then looked up at Ben. ‘Would you feel guilty afterwards?’

      ‘No,’ said Ben.

      ‘Would you have asked her to have sex with you or to go to bed with you?’

      ‘That would depend on her,’ said Ben.

      ‘Quite so.’

      ‘I wouldn’t have asked her to have sex with me,’ said Ben.

      ‘Are you sure about that?’

      ‘Quite sure,’ said Ben firmly.

      ‘Would you have thrown out subtle hints?’

      ‘Such as?’ asked Ben.

      ‘Oh I don’t know,’ said Pugh. ‘You tell me?’

      ‘No. I don’t throw out subtle hints.’

      ‘So you just wait for them to hit on you?’

      Ben thought for a moment. ‘I think so.’

      ‘And it appears they do,’ said Pugh.

      ‘I’ve been very fortunate in that department,’ said Ben.

      Pugh pointed his pen at Ben. ‘You are very tall and well maintained for your age. You are handsome and confident. Would you consider a sexual relationship with a transsexual?’

      ‘No,’ said Ben.

      ‘What if you didn’t know…until it came down to the deed if you know what I mean?’

      ‘I’d know,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve got nothing against transsexuals mind you but I just wouldn’t try and have sex with one.’

      ‘Would you kiss one?’

      ‘Probably not,’ said Ben.

      ‘Is that a yes or a no?’

      ‘It’s probably a no.’

      ‘Would you spank a transsexual?’

      ‘Only if she was naughty,’ said Ben with a straight face.

      ‘You refer to transsexuals as she and I find that interesting because they could be either she or he don’t you think?’

      ‘In my experience as a police detective,’ said Ben, ‘they are usually a he wanting to look like a she. Either way, I’ll take on your receptionist any day if that helps.’

      ‘April is a transsexual,’ said Pugh as he scribbled notes.

      ‘Fuck me!’ said Ben as he sat back and folded his arms. ‘I think I need help doctor.’

      ‘Yes, well we’ll see about that,’ said Pugh with a slight smile. ‘Now tell me Ben. Do you hear people talking to you at night when you sleep?’

      ‘I have once or twice. It’s not a regular thing.’

      ‘Women or men?’

      ‘Both. Just a couple actually but they were spirits or ghosts.’

      ‘I see. Do you hear loud noises that don’t seem to have any origin?’

      ‘Sometimes I think I hear a phone ringing but it’s not. Sometimes I think someone has shouted at me but then I wake up and there is no one around.’

      ‘Do you think that someone is sitting underneath your chair Ben?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Do you want to take a look, just to be sure that there is no one underneath your chair?’

      ‘I don’t need to take a look,’ said Ben. ‘There’s no one underneath my chair.’

      ‘Is anyone whispering things to you from behind your back?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Are you sure? Do you want to turn around and check?’

      ‘No,’ said Ben.

      ‘No someone isn’t whispering to you or no because you don’t want to check behind you?’

      ‘There’s no one behind me,’ said Ben. ‘If there was, you could see them, right?’

      ‘Not necessarily.’

      ‘Why couldn’t you see them Doctor Pugh?’

      ‘Because there isn’t anyone there.’

      ‘Told you,’ said Ben.

      The questions and answers went back and forth for just over an hour. Doctor Pugh made 28 pages of handwritten notes. He shook Ben’s hand as he left the room. Ben approached April. She handed him the account which he paid with a savings account card.

      ‘Will you need to make another appointment?’ she asked.

      ‘I may. I’m not sure,’ said Ben. He pushed the invoice into a trouser pocket and turned to walk to the exit door. Then he stopped and turned. ‘You are very beautiful,’ he said.

      ‘Thank you Mr. Hood. So are you.’

      Ben caught the tiny lift to the ground floor, walked slowly across the footpath and threw up into the Macquarie Street gutter. Those walking past in their beautiful, expensive city clothes stared at him and then quickened their pace to put distance between him and them.

      ****

      CHAPTER TWO

      Rodney Reid moved down the hallway of his home using a crutch under his right arm. He had no right foot. It had been amputated years ago following a motor vehicle accident involving him and some drunken mates. His wife, Doctor Rose Reid had actually amputated it. That is how they met. He stopped briefly and looked back at Ben. ‘You can’t fail a psychological test you idiot. It’s not that kind of a test.’

      ‘I sort of hit on his receptionist,’ said Ben.

      ‘Young?’

      ‘Fairly young.’

      ‘Jesus…not again!’

      ‘She is also a transsexual.’

      Rodney stopped as if he had run into a brick wall. ‘What?’

      ‘I’m a lost cause Rod. I almost picked up a drag.’

      ‘Good Lord Almighty! Didn’t you know?’

      ‘I should have known. I always do. This one blew me away.’

      ‘Shit Ben. We better have a drink.’

      ‘It’s almost lunch time.’

      ‘You need a drink. You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’

      ‘I threw up in the middle of Macquarie Street,’ said Ben. ‘I couldn’t get a taxi because stuff was all over my shirt. I had to wash in a fountain in Hyde Park and a vagrant offered to share his sandwich with me.’

      ‘Bloody hell! That’s not good.’

      ‘It was a Pecks Paste sandwich. I hate Pecks Paste.’

      ‘I’m sorry Ben,’ said Rodney as they reached the sunroom at the back of the house. ‘I didn’t realise the impact this psychological assessment might have on you.’

      Ben dropped into a cane lounge chair with frangipani print covers. ‘He dug into parts of my life that I thought were dead and buried. He especially wanted to know about Peta and her death and what that meant to me. He wanted to know how many women I’d slept with. Can you believe that?’

      ‘How many have you slept with?’ asked Rodney as he sat down opposite Ben and leaned his crutch against the wall.

      ‘How the fuck do I know! I don’t keep score you know.’

      ‘It’s been quite a few though.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘And most of them quite a lot younger than you.’

      ‘Don’t you start on me Rod. I’ve had a gut full let me tell you.’

      ‘And now this transsexual thing,’ said Rodney getting to his feet. ‘I forgot the beer. Do you want a beer?’

      ‘No. I’m going home. Thanks for looking after my car. I wouldn’t trust anyone at those parking stations in the city to take care of it.’

      ‘That’s why you should drive a bomb like me and not a damn Aston Martin.’

      ‘It was a gift and you know it. I could hardly say no,’ said Ben. ‘That would have been impolite.’

      ‘Yeah right,’ said Rodney grabbing his timber crutch and hopping quickly towards the kitchen. ‘When will you get Doctor Pugh’s report?’

      ‘He’s going to mail it to me with a copy to you in a week or so but I won’t be around so he might as well save himself the trouble.’

      ‘Where the hell will you be?’

      ‘I don’t know but right away from Sydney.’

      ‘Not that walkabout shit again,’ said Rodney as he sat back in the chair with an open can of beer. ‘How long will you be gone for this time?’

      ‘I don’t know. I just need time out and a bit of head clearing stuff.’

      ‘Far North Queensland again?’

      ‘Probably,’ said Ben. ‘I like the heat and the laid back life style.’

      ‘And who will I give all the tough jobs to eh?’

      ‘I don’t care,’ said Ben.

      ‘Claudia and Susan I suppose. Might be dangerous for them,’ said Rodney.

      ‘They can handle themselves,’ said Ben, ‘especially Claudia.’

      ‘I thought you pair had something going there for a while,’ said Rodney. He sipped his beer.

      ‘We did but it didn’t last long. She’s a bit too wild for me,’ said Ben.

      ‘I thought you liked them wild.’

      ‘Not that bloody wild.’

      ‘Old age catching up with you mate?’

      ‘Something like that,’ said Ben, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll show myself out. Say hi to Rose for me.’

      ‘Yep and don’t stew too much about what happened this morning. I’m sure the shrink will conclude that you are as normal as me.’

      ‘Well that’s a fucking worry,’ said Ben as he walked down the hallway to the front door.

      At the southern end of Seven Mile Beach in Port Douglas in Far North Queensland, Australia, there is a beautiful cove fringed with pure white sand. The land fronting this cove is mostly rainforest and privately owned by an eccentric French millionaire who had two pole houses constructed on either end of the cove, almost a kilometre apart and each out of sight of the other. He had named the cove La Place De La Magie, which means The Place of Magic. The millionaire and his mistress had lived in one of the pole houses for 9 weeks following construction but to the Frenchman’s astonishment the mistress ran off with the owner of a boat charter business in Port Douglas. The broken hearted millionaire went back to France and the pole houses remained vacant for over a year until the Frenchman got over his grief and decided that money could be made by renting La

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