Chapter 1.5
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Chapter 1.5: Des and Troy- Together they destroy.
The moon bathed the river-mouth in icy silver and the only sounds to be heard were the calming calls of the night creatures. And of the damn cane toads. Milligan was one of the local bull toads who had come to the river-mouth that night in search of a willing female.
His hopes and his future were crushed when a red Landcruiser crested the sand dune and crawled its way to the water's edge, brutally bringing his existence to an end under its front-left wheel.
In the Landcruiser, Milligan's killer Des cut the engine and switched off the 4WD's arsenal of floodlights. Sandflats stretched out in front of the vehicle, so vast it seemed as if they ran all the way to the horizon. In the passenger seat, Troy whistled.
"Look at that," he said quietly. "The river winding its way through the bleached sand looks like a huge sparkling python, slithering off the land and into the cool night sea." Des wished Troy would give up on his literary ambitions. His partner had taken to describing all manner of everyday scenes in the style of a novel. "Getting his brain in gear", he called it. "Bloody irritating" was how Des put it. It had come to a head yesterday at the supermarket. As Des had stepped up to buy a pack of smokes, Troy had begun "descripting".
"Des stepped up to the counter, thoughtfully surveying the brightly-coloured packets," he began, speaking into his tape recorder. Des couldn't contain his embarrassment. "They looked like a stunning montage of flags, fluttering in the breeze and shouting their nationality to the world. To which nation would he swear his allegiance? The future was in his hands."
The cashier just stared.
"...The current moves swiftly out to sea and the mangroves along the murky banks sway quietly in the light sou-wester-"
"For Christ's sake Troy, if you don't shut up I'm going to drown you."
"I need the pract-"
"You need to shut up," snarled Des, lighting a cigarette and throwing the lighter towards the dash. It bounced off the windscreen and down into the floorpan. “Fuck,” he spat, bending down and searching amongst the darkness. Troy reached up from the passenger seat and switched on the interior light, a far away look on his face as he stared through the windscreen out at the estuarine landscape. Des knew Troy was still narrating the scenery in his mind; it still pissed him off even when he couldn't hear it.
Des' searching fingers found the lighter amongst the rubble of fast food wrappers, beer cans and cigarette packets. He glanced over at Troy, who, still staring out to sea, reached out and switched the light off again.
A few silent minutes later Des’ eyes lit up. “There it is,” he said, pointing to a fast moving light in the sky and starting the motor.
Inside the chopper, dressed as a professional hunter, was the Tango poisoner.
One of the world's most wanted assassins, the Tango poisoner was an enigma to all but himself and the readers of his blog. He smiled underneath the pilot's helmet and spoke into the mic. “Down there Richard,” he said, pointing to the river-mouth below where a red vehicle slowly made its way across the sand.
As the chopper touched down and the Landcruiser came to a stop, nobody noticed the sound of a high end camera’s shutter clicking away over in the mangroves.
The camera strap was twice wound over the lone soldier's right hand, the tips of his boots immersed in the saline water as it swirled around the exposed roots. With his index finger continually depressing the shutter button, 10 frames per second were being captured in digital hi res. As the mosquitoes buzzed around the man's ears and fed on the back of his sweaty neck he had to continually fight the urge to jump up and slap at them, but the soldier's training had been more effective than that.
Sliding the pack off his back and retrieving the long range directional microphone inside, he plugged it into the small storage drive sewn into his fatigues and pointed it at the chopper. "So this is the famous Tango" he thought to himself as he positioned the mic on the mangrove root where he was sitting and brought his camera back into position.. " I wonder what brings him all the way Downunder?"
Through the lens the soldier could just make out a dark figure jump from the open chopper door and climb quickly onto the back of the landcruiser before the chopper lifted once more. For a few seconds the cloud of dust raised by the helicopter obscured the vehicle from view. "Fuck" grunted the soldier. He knew he would have been better to lie up in the beach-grass and was about to jump down into the mud and change positions when his comm vibrated against his waist. Muttering under his breath the young man reached down and retrieved it from his belt. "MISSION COMPROMISED ABORT ABORT ABORT." The soldier's face screwed into an irritated frown as he replaced the comm and brought the camera back up to his face. He had just enough time to see that the landcruiser had remained on the sandflat before a small flash emanated from it's rusty tray.
The bullet connected with the soldiers chest with a horrid thud and embedded itself in the mangrove trunk behind him with a loud slap. The rifle's crack echoed around the deserted coastline valley as the soldier's body fell forward and down into the twisted tangle of roots, his lifeless body spilling it's precious blood into the receding shallows.
Lying prone on the landcruiser's tray, still staring through the 9x scope atop his favorite rifle, the Tango poisoner smiled as he pulled back on the bolt and let the 223 cal shell fly away into the darkness.
The smell of cordite filled the air around the UTE and Troy's ears screamed in protest at the muzzle's percussion wave hitting them from such a close range. "What tha fuck is your problem Dickhead?!! he screamed as he opened the door and jumped out onto the sand holding the sides of his head.
"Spy." Tango said softly. "What?!! screamed Troy, his voice echoing. "Spy" repeated the Tango poisoner, a little louder this time and pointing at the mangroves.
Tango rose from the tray to his full six foot five and folded the legs of his bipod back along the rifle's stock. "I said there was a fucking spy over there" he shouted at Troy "And if you have a problem, maybe you end up like him, eh?" he added softly. Troy heard the first but couldn't make out the second comment, his ears still ringing like a school bell.
Des appeared beside Troy and put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a reasuring squeeze before walking over to Tango with his hand extended upwards. "Welcome to Queensland mate."
The newcomer lent his rifle against the cab and ran his hand through his dark hair before securing it in a pony tail with a rubber band that appeared from nowhere in his mouth. He looked at Des Menacingly for a few seconds, just long enough for Troy's adrenaline to begin to run, before a large cheesy grin spread over the assassin's face and he met Des' hand with his own.
Both the Aussie boys relaxed at the sight of such a warm smile. Tango knew they would: everyone did. That had always been his trump card, he had the charm, he had the charm down pat.
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