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book preview of Hydra Amok


 


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HYDRA AMOK



HYDRA AMOK

Someone is murdering Asian
prostitutes. It looks like a serial killer is on the loose, but things are not
what they seem. When Detective Sergeant Dempsey Suter investigates, he uncovers
information that points to a clandestine racist group in the Police Force. How
widespread is this group, and is it protecting the killer?

When his partner Delia Nguyen is
shot and wounded, Suter thinks he is getting close to the truth, but even he is
not prepared for the shocking revelations that follow.

And who is ‘The Hydra’, who
is apparently masterminding the group’s activities?

Suter must discover the identity
of The Hydra before it’s too late…for everybody.

In Store Price: $26.00 

Online Price:   $25.00

ISBN:1-9210-0529-7

Format: A5 Paperback

Number of pages:
285


Genre: Crime Fiction

Author:
Chris Kent 

Imprint: Poseidon

Publisher: Poseidon Books
Date Published:  2005

Language: English

HOME PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR   

Chris Kent lives in
Sydney Australia and is currently writing full‑time. “Hydra Amok” is
his third novel

PRECURSOR  

The
raucous sounds coming from inside the hotel were augmented by a commotion close
to the main entrance. A few moments later the doors flew open; two bouncers were
wrestling a large man through them. The man was trying his best to struggle free
but the bouncers were far too strong. They gave him one final shove and he was
propelled onto the pavement, tripping over to land on his face.

           
“You’ve had your last warning, Lewis,” yelled one of the bouncers.
“Don’t bother trying to come back here. If you do, my mates and I will kick
your fat arse from here to Brisbane. Now fuck off!”

Greg
Lewis got up off the asphalt, wiping the grit off his face. He turned around to
the retreating bouncers. “Just try to do that, you fucking cowards! I’ll
come into your shit-hole anytime I want!”

He
started to stagger down the main street of Nambour towards the boarding house he
had called home for the last six months, ever since he had driven up from
Sydney. He had liked the large Queensland country town at first, and had managed
to get a job at a timber yard. He thought people would be receptive to his
political ideas; after all, wasn’t country Queensland the most conservative,
right wing region in Australia? Some people certainly were; they congratulated
him on his ‘heroic stand against socialism’. However, his views did not go
down well with others; his talk of starting a new Party got a lukewarm reception
from most of them. It was one thing to stop Asian immigration, but to put all
Asians living in Australia into concentration camps? Most people did not
appreciate the Nazi swastika flag he used to proudly display at the rallies he
organized. The police had warned him to ‘pull his head in’, or else he would
be saying ‘hello’ to a prison cell. However, it did not stop a few officers
agreeing with his philosophies.

He
watched the patrol wagon pull up alongside him. He stopped as two uniformed
constables got out and approached him. He recognized them as supporters who had
secretly attended a ‘Special Rally’ at the farm of one of the towns’ most
prominent citizens. He greeted the two officers with a grin.

“How
are you two bastards doing?”

“Been
spreading the ‘Good Word’ have we, Greg?” asked the older officer.

“You
know me, Mick,” replied Lewis. “Gotta try to tell the people what’s
happening to this great country. Australien Erwache!!” he yelled, giving a
Nazi salute.

“Yeah
well, they can stay asleep for now,” said Mick. “We want to have a friendly
little chat with you, Greg old son. Why don’t you step into the back of our
nice wagon?”

“Aw
come on, Mick… you not going to arrest me? I only got chucked out of that
filthy pub because there were too many do-gooders in there tonight.”

“Don’t
worry, Greg. We just want a chat; some of our friends south of the border want
you for a little job they have in mind. Worth a bit of money if you’re
interested.”

“Oh
fuck, does that mean going back to Sydney?” asked Lewis nervously. “You know
that place is too hot for me now. The socialist chardonnay-set own it; good
Australians like me are not welcome there any more.”

He
climbed into the wagon; Mick followed him. The other officer, a young constable,
with only a few years experience, got in the driver’s seat; the van drove off
towards Lewis’s boarding house.

“You’ll
be OK, old son,” said Mick. “Our friends want you for a job, which I know
you will love; it involves Asian women. I can’t tell you any more now, but
they want you down in Sydney as soon as possible. Go to work tomorrow, collect
your pay and resign. Think your old wreck of a car will get you to Sydney?”

“Sure
Mick,” replied Lewis, who was feeling excited at the prospect of doing things
to Asian women. “I can leave tomorrow as soon as I get my pay. I can tell that
arsehole of a manager to get fucked… that’s a good enough resignation letter
for him.”

“Good,”
said Mick. He handed Lewis an envelope. “Your instructions are in there. When
you arrive in Sydney, give this envelope and everything in it to the guy you
meet; he will destroy it. After this, just do what he says. I promise, you’re
going to have fun!”

The
van pulled up at the boarding house. Lewis, after promising to do as instructed,
got out. The van drove off with Mick still in the back, which seemed strange;
what Lewis didn’t know was that Mick was using his mobile phone to call the
‘prominent citizen’.

“It’s
all set,” the policeman said. “Lewis is heading off tomorrow. Contact your
friends in Sydney… Lewis should be there in a couple of days, as long as his
car doesn’t blow up.”

He
clicked off and banged on the metal partition. “OK Steve, pull over. I’ve
had enough of being a prisoner for tonight.”
    

CHAPTER ONE       

Detective
Ian Bates looked again at the small slip of paper that had been given to him by
a friend from his Academy days, Constable Phil Martens. He seemed to have the
correct address, although the old fibro house seemed an unlikely place for a
meeting of The Society. While Bates didn’t expect a mansion, he thought the
venue would be slightly more up market. Shrugging, he walked up the short path
and knocked tentatively on the front door. A few seconds later it opened; a
short stocky man looked suspiciously at him. Bates showed him the slip of paper
containing the address of the house and a picture of a flag; the man glanced at
it and permitted Bates to enter. Martens had told him the flag, the design of
which intrigued Bates, was a ‘password’, and that he must show it in order
to be permitted access to the meeting.

Bates
followed the man to the lounge room where four men sat in chairs. The Detective
was directed to a metal chair and told to sit down. The room was dark and he
strained to see the faces of the men. He was a little nervous; the scene
reminded him of some strange initiation he had seen in a movie. He waited for
somebody to speak.

“Welcome,
Ian. Your presence indicates your desire to join our Society. We’ve heard good
things about you from the late Inspector Shane Goodwin, may he rest in peace. We
want you to tell us why you want to join The Society.” The voice was deep and
guttural.

Bates
took a deep breath and commenced his prepared answer.

“My
friend Phil Martens has been telling me about the creation of The Society and
what it stands for. He knew that I would be receptive to the objectives of The
Society and the reason for its creation. I believe that the forces of
multiculturalism have undermined the New South Wales Police Force; the refugee
apologists, feminists and Affirmative Action do-gooders have polluted the force
with their propaganda. If nothing is done about this, the cancer will spread to
the entire area of law enforcement, including the Judiciary. Indeed, it has
already started. This cancer is inhibiting proper policing. Something must be
done to restore the status quo before it’s too late.”

The
deep voice that had asked Bates the first question continued; Bates thought he
had heard the voice before, but couldn’t place it for the moment.

“Very
good, Ian. Tell me… what do you think about working alongside Asians?”

“I
only just tolerate it,” he replied. “I’ve just finished working with a
Viet bitch on the Hangman case. Snotty nosed cow named Delia Nguyen. She’s in
Sergeant Suter’s pocket; they’re inseparable. I transferred to Northern Area
to get away from Asian officers; they’ve almost taken over South West.”

“We
are in complete agreement with you, Ian. The Society considers that Asians are
the biggest potential threat to the stability and security of the Force. Of
course, we never ignore the problems with other minorities, such as Blacks and
Muslims. However, for the present The Society is concentrating its efforts on
the influence of Asian officers. There is a very worrying trend occurring; Asian
officers are being fast-tracked for promotion. We expect that there will be an
Asian Area Commander within the next twelve months. We cannot allow that to
happen. The Society will be using its resources to undermine this plan. Are you
with us, Ian?”

Bates
did not have to consider his answer for long. He had seen examples of this fast
tracking himself at South West Area; he had become convinced that he must
transfer to have any chance of becoming a Sergeant, but things at Northern had
not been going too well recently. He had hardly distinguished himself in the
Hangman case, being trumped by Delia Nguyen on more than one occasion. Sergeant
Suter had been less than impressed with his work; even Commander McGovern had
turned against him after the murder of Inspector Goodwin. He saw in The Society
a chance to redeem himself. There was just one little matter…

“I
promise that I will follow the ideal of The Society to the best of my ability.
May I ask how many members belong to The Society, and are there any senior
officers in it?”

In
answer, the lounge room main light was switched on. Bates found himself gaping
at the owner of the voice.

“Ian…
you look like you’ve just seen the devil himself,” said Area Commander
Walter Goodhall, currently in charge of South West. “Sorry to disguise my
voice, but we couldn’t reveal ourselves until we were sure of your
commitment.”

Bates
couldn’t believe it. The Commander of the area most infected with Asian
residents and Asian police was a member of The Society! He slowly shook his head
as he looked at the other men, who were smiling at him. One of them asked him if
he wanted a drink.

“Double
bourbon… no, better make it a triple,” he replied, relaxing slightly on his
chair.

Goodhall
laughed. “I bet you’ve got a few questions, Ian. For instance, why am I at
South West when I don’t want Asians in the Force? The answer is simple; I
don’t attract suspicion, and where better to get a clear picture of how the
Force is being undermined?”

Bates
nodded and accepted the glass of bourbon. He sipped as Goodhall continued.
“You must remember, Ian, that we in The Society must always give the
impression that we fully support the initiatives of the multiculturalists. Why
do you think I supported the promotions of three Asian Constables to Sergeant
ahead of other, perhaps better-qualified people such as yourself? The main
reason was pressure from the local community, who are mostly Asian. The local
councils within my region are infested with them, as you know. I bowed to this
pressure, but don’t think for a minute it will be permanent. I am creating a
climate of false security… when it is time to strike, The Society will do so,
with all its strength. Now listen carefully… you are now a fully-fledged
member. You will be sent a full list of members (we have well over two hundred),
with their postal addresses. The only form of communication between members is
by ordinary mail, unless there is an emergency. I am the Leader of The
Society… you can call me on my mobile in extreme circumstances. We are not
like Freemasons or the Ku Klux Klan; I don’t have some grandiose title like
Dragon Master or Grand Wizard. However, we do have a symbol; Doug, show Ian what
we mean.”

One
of the men got up and left the room. While he was gone, Goodhall introduced
Bates to the other members. There were two Constables, an Inspector and a
Sergeant; Doug, the man who had gone to fetch the flag, was a civilian. He was a
public servant attached to the Police Department’s headquarters in the city;
his grade indicated he was in a senior position. It was very useful, as Goodhall
pointed out.

“We
have spread our influence outside the Force. Not only to Public Sector
employees, but also members of the Judiciary.” Bates was suitably impressed.

Doug
returned with the flag and gave it to Bates. As the detective had seen, the
design was simple but extremely powerful; the flag consisted of a black central
strip flanked by two red strips. On the black strip was a white Christian cross.

“We
considered placing a swastika in the top left hand corner, but it was considered
to be too boring; after all, almost every right wing group uses it these
days,” said Goodhall. “What do you think of it?”

“I
like it,” answered Bates. “Can I get one to place in my bedroom?”

“Yes,”
said Goodhall, “but remember, never show it in public. One thing The Society
does have in common with Freemasonry is that we like to keep out of the
limelight.”

“I
understand,” replied Bates. “I will be faithful to the ideals.”

“Good,”
said Goodhall. “Now I must also ask you not to be belligerent to Delia Nguyen
or any other minority officers. I don’t mean you need to hug and kiss them;
just bite your tongue when you want to argue with them, and tolerate their
verbal jibes. I know that Nguyen tries to stir you, and most times you react. I
ask you, for the good of The Society, to tolerate it for the time being.”

“OK
sir, I will do that. I just hope it’s not forever,” said Bates hopefully.

“No
Ian, not forever. Also remember that all members call each other by their
Christian names at meetings or other Society activities. However, when we are
working, we use normal protocol. So, here I am Walter; at South West I am
‘sir’. There are no ranks in The Society; we are a team of equals. I
coordinate the activities, but I am not a dictator. ‘All for one and one for
all’ as the Three Musketeers said. Is that clear?”

“Yes,
sir… I mean Walter,” replied Bates.

“Excellent…
now, how about some takeaway pizza?” asked Goodhall.

As
Doug phoned the order, the others engaged in general discussion. Bates finished
his bourbon and listened to the chatter, occasionally giving his opinion on some
matter. He was just happy to be part of a team… a team where you truly
belonged, and where nobody would stab you in the back. As he left the house
shortly before midnight, he thought the only problem would be trying to get
along with Delia Nguyen. It was going to be tough, but he wanted to impress
Goodhall. Who knows, he thought, he may not need Suter or Commander McGovern’s
help in securing a promotion any more. With someone like Walter Goodhall backing
him up, the sky was the limit.
                                                      

Bates
received the letter a few days later. He was surprised to see the large number
of names on the membership list, although it was probably not even half of the
total. There were members in all areas of the state, but the majority was in
Sydney. There were only a handful of female members, which didn’t really
surprise him. He recognized some of the names; officers he had worked with, or
met in his Academy days. There were a few names that surprised him. One name in
particular made him shake his head; he never would have thought this person
would be a member. Amazing how someone can fool everybody, including himself.

There
were also some names of people who were not on the Force. Bates raised his
eyebrows at one of them. Goodhall had said The Society was spreading its
influence to the Judiciary. The name Bates was staring at was proof positive.
Goodhall had provided a mobile phone, with the instruction that Bates must use
it exclusively when contacting him about Society matters… nothing was left to
chance.

  

 

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