Read Online No Man's Land - A Russell Carter Thriller by Roland Fishman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roland Fishman
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the production office is?”
“Maybe I do. But someone who doesn’t appreciate the beauty of the sacred amber fluid is no friend of mine. Not someone I can share my truth with, if you get my drift.”
Carter took the hint, realizing this was one argument he’d never win. Drinking great quantities of cold beer was the religion of the bush and the passport to the pub brotherhood.
He raised his schooner toward Bluey in a salute, put the ice-cold beer to his lips and drank down the lot.
Bluey’s face lit up like he’d found a soulmate.
Carter placed the glass on the table and said, “You were about to tell me how to find the film’s production office?”
Bluey nodded at Cheryl. “Another round, love.”
Cheryl placed two more schooners on the bar.
“It’s at Jambaroo Springs, a cross between a motel and a resort built on a natural hot spring.” Bluey picked up his fresh schooner and again downed a third in one go. “Buggered if I know why anyone would pay good money to sit in a tub of hot salty water.”
Carter picked up his beer and drank half of it. “Where is it exactly?”
“You head down the Boomi Road for about thirty-five clicks and hang a left at the sign. Can’t miss it. When you plan on going?”
“Right now.”
“You got an invitation?”
Carter shook his head.
“Security’s pretty bloody tight and they don’t welcome strangers. They’ve got a ten-foot fence around the joint. Are you looking for someone in particular or you after a part in the flick? You look scruffy enough to be an actor.”
“I’m looking for a woman.”
Bluey winked and gave him a playful shove. “Aren’t we all? Tell you what, mate, I can give you a leg in. A good buddy of mine, Dazza, is manning the gate. I’ll give him a bell.”
“Thanks, mate,” Carter said. “Appreciate it.”
Carter didn’t need to see Jambaroo Springs to know whatever security they might have was unlikely to present a problem. Breaking into places like that without a fuss was what he did. But it was always better to take the easy route and enter through the front door.
Bluey drained his schooner, let out a satisfied sigh and thumped the glass on the counter. “That hit the spot.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Carter noticed the two bikies heading toward the front door.
“You know those two?” Carter asked.
“Never seen ’em before in my life.”
Carter wondered if they could be somehow mixed up with the Sungkar clan.
Bluey pointed at Carter’s half-empty glass. “Come on, mate. Get that beer into ya. A man could die of thirst waiting for your shout.”
4
Two schooners and one hour later, Carter drove along the highway toward a sign that read: Jambaroo Natural Spa and Hot Springs, 200 metres .
He turned left off the highway following Bluey’s directions. If all went according to plan, he’d enter the resort, locate Erina and then leave with her, without attracting undue attention.
The ute rolled down the drive. Harsh sunlight shimmered off the white walls of a large, drab two-storey building with a ten-foot wire fence running around the perimeter.
He pulled up in front of a red boom gate next to a white gatehouse. A lanky guard dressed in a short-sleeved khaki shirt, long grey pants and a broad-brimmed hat strolled toward him. It could only be Dazza.
Carter grinned at him. “G’day, mate. How’re you doin’?”
The guard stood just back from the car, swatting flies. “Fair to middling. Has to be forty degrees in the flaming waterbag. And you must be Bluey’s new drinkin’ mate? He warned me not to shake your hand.”
Dazza’s infectious good humor made Carter smile. “I wish someone had warned me not to get into a shout with Bluey.”
Dazza chuckled. “He loves a beer or twenty. Who is it you wanna see?”
“You know Nicole Davey?”
Dazza nodded. “Good-looking sort. You want me to try and get her on the blower?”
“Yeah, give it a shot.”
Dazza ducked back into the guardhouse,
“Maybe I do. But someone who doesn’t appreciate the beauty of the sacred amber fluid is no friend of mine. Not someone I can share my truth with, if you get my drift.”
Carter took the hint, realizing this was one argument he’d never win. Drinking great quantities of cold beer was the religion of the bush and the passport to the pub brotherhood.
He raised his schooner toward Bluey in a salute, put the ice-cold beer to his lips and drank down the lot.
Bluey’s face lit up like he’d found a soulmate.
Carter placed the glass on the table and said, “You were about to tell me how to find the film’s production office?”
Bluey nodded at Cheryl. “Another round, love.”
Cheryl placed two more schooners on the bar.
“It’s at Jambaroo Springs, a cross between a motel and a resort built on a natural hot spring.” Bluey picked up his fresh schooner and again downed a third in one go. “Buggered if I know why anyone would pay good money to sit in a tub of hot salty water.”
Carter picked up his beer and drank half of it. “Where is it exactly?”
“You head down the Boomi Road for about thirty-five clicks and hang a left at the sign. Can’t miss it. When you plan on going?”
“Right now.”
“You got an invitation?”
Carter shook his head.
“Security’s pretty bloody tight and they don’t welcome strangers. They’ve got a ten-foot fence around the joint. Are you looking for someone in particular or you after a part in the flick? You look scruffy enough to be an actor.”
“I’m looking for a woman.”
Bluey winked and gave him a playful shove. “Aren’t we all? Tell you what, mate, I can give you a leg in. A good buddy of mine, Dazza, is manning the gate. I’ll give him a bell.”
“Thanks, mate,” Carter said. “Appreciate it.”
Carter didn’t need to see Jambaroo Springs to know whatever security they might have was unlikely to present a problem. Breaking into places like that without a fuss was what he did. But it was always better to take the easy route and enter through the front door.
Bluey drained his schooner, let out a satisfied sigh and thumped the glass on the counter. “That hit the spot.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Carter noticed the two bikies heading toward the front door.
“You know those two?” Carter asked.
“Never seen ’em before in my life.”
Carter wondered if they could be somehow mixed up with the Sungkar clan.
Bluey pointed at Carter’s half-empty glass. “Come on, mate. Get that beer into ya. A man could die of thirst waiting for your shout.”
4
Two schooners and one hour later, Carter drove along the highway toward a sign that read: Jambaroo Natural Spa and Hot Springs, 200 metres .
He turned left off the highway following Bluey’s directions. If all went according to plan, he’d enter the resort, locate Erina and then leave with her, without attracting undue attention.
The ute rolled down the drive. Harsh sunlight shimmered off the white walls of a large, drab two-storey building with a ten-foot wire fence running around the perimeter.
He pulled up in front of a red boom gate next to a white gatehouse. A lanky guard dressed in a short-sleeved khaki shirt, long grey pants and a broad-brimmed hat strolled toward him. It could only be Dazza.
Carter grinned at him. “G’day, mate. How’re you doin’?”
The guard stood just back from the car, swatting flies. “Fair to middling. Has to be forty degrees in the flaming waterbag. And you must be Bluey’s new drinkin’ mate? He warned me not to shake your hand.”
Dazza’s infectious good humor made Carter smile. “I wish someone had warned me not to get into a shout with Bluey.”
Dazza chuckled. “He loves a beer or twenty. Who is it you wanna see?”
“You know Nicole Davey?”
Dazza nodded. “Good-looking sort. You want me to try and get her on the blower?”
“Yeah, give it a shot.”
Dazza ducked back into the guardhouse,
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