Jonathan Tromane - Mandate

Mandate

By

Jonathan Tromane

Copyright Jonathan Tromane 2008

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-62209-297-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.

Registered with the IP Rights Office Copyright Registration Service

Ref: 1460699941

EPILOGUE

Only one FA18 Hornet flew over the funeral service that day. The pilot of the other one was grounded for a few weeks. Not long after the sleek fighter jet took off they carried a body out from the aircraft tool room. A little later a police car arrived at the RAAF Base transporting a young woman who had been found by the roadside about twenty minutes drive away. She was badly bruised and was taken straight to the medical centre. When Ben Khoury had regained his composure and saw her the relief he felt was euphoric. They embraced for a long while, not wanting to let go, not wanting to be parted ever again.

Five minutes after the single Hornet flew over the funeral service a very select group, which included the President of the USA and the Prime Minister of Great Britain, gathered around as they lay the two coffins to rest. The Last Post was played and a twenty one gun salute was fired. The noise masked the soft drone of a light aircraft, flying very low in the distance. When the salute ended the aircraft noise had disappeared.

Earlier that morning a lone man had slipped under the perimeter fence of a small country airport. There were no dogs this time, they were locked away. This time instead of a knapsack he carried a lethal Uzi sub machine gun.

The handful of people in the admin building and control tower did not know what hit them when a man burst into the building and fired the deadly weapon at the radio equipment, killing one man who tried to be a hero, and locking the rest in a storeroom. He then smashed the telephone switchboard and headed for the control tower where he carried out similar activities ensuring that there would be no contact with the airport for quite a while.

The two remaining people at the airfield were aircraft technicians. They came running when they heard the noise and were cut down as they ran.

The man then ran to the aircraft he normally flew which had been fuelled up but also carried extra cargo that he had added in the early hours of Thursday morning. The cargo was well hidden where no one would have noticed it.

He checked the wind direction and started the aircraft, going though the normal checks before taking off and setting a circuitous course for Melbourne. There was no flight plan lodged or contact made. He flew low all the way, sometimes just above the tree line, and flew a broad circuit so that he skirted the city and stayed well clear of the two main airports and flight paths. By the time he was picked up on Melbourne radar the Hornet was almost back at its base.

As the last post and the rifle salute ended Mohammed Damechkie feathered the Cessnas engine and set the aircraft, loaded with a massive amount of high explosive and with boxes and boxes of long steel nails packed into every recess, on a gentle glide toward the gathering of people around the graveside who were getting ready to say goodbye.

THE END

PROLOGUE

Late Evening - The Scottish Highlands October 1988

The rabbit emerged gingerly from its burrow at dusk. The evening air was bitterly cold, signaling that winter was not long away but the small animal appeared unaffected. Its thick coat was well established. The wild European rabbit has exceptional hearing and an excellent sense of smell - these two highly developed senses more than compensate for its poor eyesight. The small animal stayed still for some time, ears raised and nostrils twitching, opening and closing the flaps that expose the two sensing pads used for identifying smells. The foreign scent was there again, stronger than ever and instilling a feeling of fear in the small defenseless creature.

The door of the cottage opened and the familiar figure appeared with a tin plate in his hand. He was only a vague blur to the rabbit but the sounds and smells told it all it needed to know. Its nostrils twitched with anticipation as they picked up the scent of raw vegetable scraps. It hopped forward, having little fear of the occupant of the cottage, then stopped again. The other scent was stronger now and the rabbits acute hearing picked up movement some distance away. It raised a white tail to signal danger then stood on hind legs momentarily to get a better view. There was nothing to be seen so it looked back to where the food lay on the ground. The occupant of the cottage had turned to go back inside when a bright red dot appeared in the centre of his back. He appeared to stumble then fall forward through the doorway. A second later a soft, almost impervious thud broke the silence. The rabbit heard it and looked up then scampered back to the burrow and hid in the deepest part, its tiny heart beating frantically. It stayed underground all night with sensitive ears picking up danger signals on the surface until very late.

At dawn it emerged once more. The foreign smell was no longer fresh and there were no disturbing sounds. The food was still there so it ate rapidly; it would refect it and eat it again later while resting in the burrow. Before returning to the burrow it moved cautiously about, sniffing and listening. Some of the usual smells and sounds were not there, in particular there was no smell of smoke from the cottage chimney and no sounds of movement from within. The small animal explored further and inside the edge of a wooded area behind the cottage it discovered freshly turned earth, carefully concealed under fallen leaves. There were two scents in the area, one familiar; the other one was the foreign one from the previous evening. On the way back to the burrow it looked at and sniffed the plate inquisitively then trembled as the cold breeze ruffled its fur. It was as if it had just noticed how bleak and desolate the place was and sensed that winter was going to be long and cold and finding food would be much harder than in previous years.

*

Part 1

Magda

CHAPTER 1

Benghazi, Libya 1970

The heat was stifling, almost unbearable. 43 degrees Celsius in the shade was a temperature Eric Bergman, his wife Anna and daughter Magda found extremely difficult to contend with as they lay on their beds in a dingy hotel room sipping lukewarm lemonade and watching the ceiling fan slowly turn and generate some air movement. Along with the sweat on their lightly clothed bodies it gave them some relief. Their sparse conversation revolved around trying to convince each other that the temperature was dropping, but it was only midday and the sun shone down relentlessly, baking the coastal city of some half a million people. Most of the other inhabitants were doing the same thing, having an afternoon siesta although they were more hardened to it, until the conditions improved a little and they could return to work.

The trip to Egypt and Libya was the realisation of a dream for Eric and it also fitted in with another family objective. He and his wife Anna originally came from Frankfurt. They were both born German Jews and had been neighbours in the German city. In the late thirties their parents had seen the writing on the wall and both families escaped to Amsterdam or they thought they had escaped, only to have their worst nightmare follow them. Both sets of parents were victims of the Holocaust but fortunately, like many others, more due to good luck than careful planning, the children were hidden away by friends in the Resistance, and so survived. The friends who saved them adopted them both after the war and raised them as their own.