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  Rebel Blood

  Tom Walker

  Austin Macauley Publishers

  Rebel Blood

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Copyright Information ©

  Acknowledgement

  Foreword

  Chapter 12015 ACT Australia

  Chapter 2The PM’s Private Meeting Room. Parliament House, Canberra ACT

  Chapter 3Dale’s Home Office. Canberra, ACT. 1500 Hours

  Chapter 4The Lodge. 2200 Hours

  Chapter 5Bundy Bundy Aboriginal Community. Deep in the Northern Territory

  Chapter 6Darwin Airport

  Chapter 7Sydney

  Chapter 8Gulls Flat. Range View Farm

  Chapter 9Range View Farm Guest House

  Chapter 10Gillman’s Farm – The Shed

  Chapter 11The Choppers Arrive

  Chapter 12Hawker, South Australia

  Chapter 13Charlie’s Hut – Deep in the South Australian Outback

  Chapter 14Camp Site

  Chapter 15Looking for Jillian

  Chapter 16Frazer’s Homestead

  Chapter 17Frazer’s. Bardi ReturnsParty Meeting Rooms, Canberra ACT

  Frazer’s Homestead

  Chapter 18Gulls Flat, Range View FarmWashington, USA

  Chapter 19Frazer’s Homestead, AustraliaIndigo Base Camp

  Frazer’s Station

  Chapter 20Indigo Base CampFrazer’s Station; Homestead

  Alice Springs

  Chapter 21Hotel Alice SpringsFrazer’s Homestead

  Chapter 22Frazer’s. The Mission BeginsThe ride

  Homestead

  Chapter 23Recon OneFrazer’s Homestead

  Cliff-face Overlooking Camp Indigo

  Frazer’s Homestead

  The Dish

  Frazer’s Homestead

  Satellite Receiver Point and Junction Box

  Well 5

  Chapter 24The Choppers Arrive at Frazer’s

  Chapter 25White House. Washington DCFrazer’s

  Chapter 26Indigo Base Camp 15 June 2015Frazer’s

  Indigo Base Camp

  Frazer’s

  Darwin

  Frazer’s

  Chapter 27Frazer’s 15 July, 1800 HoursIndigo Base

  Frazer’s

  East of Frazer’s Homestead

  The Chopper

  Chapter 28Richard’s Away TeamFrazer’s

  One Day Later Canberra ACT – 0700 Local Time

  Indigo Base Camp

  Frazer’s

  Indigo Base

  Chapter 29Washington U.S.A. – Defence Operation Ready Room16 July, 0001 Local Time

  Canberra. 16 July 2015. 1500 Hours

  Frazer’s

  Washington

  Frazer’s

  Chapter 30Frazer’s Shed. Ants and Gum-Tree GooIn the Cave

  Surrender

  Chapter 31Canberra – Four Days After the AttackNext Morning

  Jillian Steps Up

  Months Later

  Canberra

  About the Author

  The author has served in the military for many years. After taking discharge, he became a public servant.

  When he first joined the army, he was not very well-educated and lacked a lot of social skills. The people he calls mates from the army, educated him and developed his social skills. For that, he will always be indebted to them.

  Throughout his life, he has tried to learn from everyone he came into contact with. He believes every person has something of value to offer (After the army he would like to say—especially the lawn bowlers he ran into when playing the game!).

  If life is a learning curve, then people he knows have been the best teachers. It may be simple things, but all worthwhile in the jungle of knowledge. He loves his country and never wants it to be destroyed. He will fight to his last breath for Australia and its people, no matter what.

  If he sees something wrong, he will speak out.

  CJ, his first draft editor. What can he say about a person that can transform his rough notes into a readable item? He loves working with him and finds that they click in a certain way; it is like CJ knows what the author is trying to say and fix it up.

  Love to all his fellow Australians.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my partner in life, Yvonne. She knew I could write, so she got me off my backside and encouraged me to do it.

  I would like to say sorry for all the temper tantrums I had while writing the book. Yvonne calmed me down and encouraged me to continue, saying, “Don’t start something you will never finish.” As my Grade 7 schoolteacher once predicted, “One day you will do it.”

  Thanks Yvonne and ‘Teach’. Love you both.

  Copyright Information ©

  Tom Walker (2020)

  The right of Tom Walker to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781398405356 (Paperback)

  ISBN 9781398405363 (ePub e-book)

  www.austinmacauley.com

  First Published (2020)

  Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

  25 Canada Square

  Canary Wharf

  London

  E14 5LQ

  Acknowledgement

  All I can say is ‘thank you’ to all who kept me going during the time of penning this book.

  Foreword

  Governments do many things they hope voters will never find out about. At times, some of these things (deals that are cut) have a bigger impact on the people than they realise.

  Rebel Blood outlines a combination of these deals that have gone wrong.

  This story is fictional but, as the old saying goes, ‘Truth is stranger than fiction.’ People, no matter who they are or what road they walk in life, are mindful that it’s not only governments who are wheeling and dealing. Every business does the same. It is the separation of bad deals from good deals that people want to become a reality.

  Review from Kindle Publishing

  I have now had the opportunity of reading and evaluating the material relating to Rebel Blood, which was a very impressive piece of work; impressive from a professional perspective and enjoyable from a personal one. It is as good a political adventure book as I have had the pleasure of reading in some considerable time.

  Basically, your book has all of the qualities necessary for success in this genre. Crucially, the plot is excellent with enough twists, turns and red herrings to keep the reader interested and involved right up to the denouement which is unexpected yet wholly believable. The characters, too, are credible ‘real’ people who interact and behave in a way that makes reader identification very easy. Jillian is a particularly powerful yet gentle protagonist with whom it is very easy to empathise and I can envisage the reader identifying with her very strongly indeed. It is somewhat unusual to have a female as a central character in a book likes this but, because you succeed in his element admirably, it is something that will elevate the book over and above other in the same genre.

  One of the book’s great strengths is its pace and this is largely due to the nature of your writing. Your style is perfect for the genre and the narrative rattles along at breakneck pace, never giving the reader the opportunit
y to rake breath, or, more importantly, get bored.

  Also critical to the plot is the dialogue and here, once again, your books does not disappoint at all. Your dialogue is highly realistic and effective, so much so, in fact, that the reader must feel like a fly on the wall, observing and absorbing everything that takes place. In this respect the book is a very ‘visual’ one and would, therefore, be relatively easy to adapt as a film. It is well known that filmmakers now spend time looking for books that would adapt readily to the big screen and yours would seem to tick most of the boxes.

  Your book has several advantages in terms publications; it is highly professional, in a very popular niche genre, expertly written and with the sort of content and narrative that could well result in it becoming quite a cult book and with it a significant ‘following’ for you personally. Interestingly, it also has tremendous televisual potential, and as I said, it is now well known that not only the major publishers but also television and filmmakers trawl the books looking for suitable material.

  Chapter 1

  2015 ACT Australia

  A bitter wind in the nation’s capital suddenly added ferocity to the early morning temperature of minus 3 degrees. The lawns around the lodge, crisp and white, cracked underfoot as Marcus began his gardening rounds, tending to frost bitten roses and other plants that detested the cold. He knew he would lose many plants this year and his budget, already half spent, would be strained even further to replace them.

  The Lodge was home to the Prime Minister and a showpiece to the rest of the world. Marcus liked the PM. She was sexy, the second ever female to make it in the male-dominated political world. He had served two previous leaders, including her father. Then, six months ago, Jillian grabbed power. Won the election. Unlike the other Prime Ministers, she was not a “yes” person, and often defied party aspirations; she listened to the people.

  A white Commonwealth car with C1 plates slowed as it reached the pick-up point in front of the Lodge, from which Jillian emerged, wrapped in a large woollen coat. She made her way to the rear door of the white Ford LTD, already opened by her driver. After a muted greeting, he gently closed it and two Federal Police cars appeared from the side, taking up their positions, one in the lead, one behind. As the small motorcade moved off, Jillian went over the daily agenda papers her PA had handed her and was startled to see the Indigo Project among them. If there was a leak from Indigo, she knew she and her party would never govern again.

  Over twenty years ago, her father had struck the Indigo Deal with the United States of America in exchange for party funding. That was the extent of her knowledge. Jillian was not sure she wanted to know more, but she was aware that their funds kept her and the party in power.

  ‘Do you prefer the rear or front entry?’ the driver asked, as they swung into the final two hundred metres of driveway leading to Parliament House.

  Jillian’s eyes flashed to the front steps. There appeared to be no media snipers out gunning for “yes-no” replies to questions she was sometimes at a loss to answer. At her political induction, an instructor drummed into her “At all costs, avoid yes or no answers. Skirt around ‘leading’ questions; stick with the prepared party response. Never waver or you will crash and burn.” Jillian knew this meeting was point blank confrontation – a round table meeting with gloves off. She cast her eyes over the briefing papers again, gaining speed on the topic poised to dominate the day’s discussions, scanning the list of outsiders who were poised to strike in the inner sanctum.

  Jillian’s anxieties gained momentum as she remembered what young John her son had asked her again yesterday. He wanted to meet his father. She was not sure if John was alive or dead. Her own father, when still Prime Minister, had told her one night that her son’s father had been reported MIA on Devil’s Rock. That was twenty years ago. She had believed him. Young John was raised by her parents. Jillian’s father didn’t want his daughter to have an out of wedlock child. He believed this would jeopardise his quest for his daughter to be the nation’s second female PM. Only a few close family friends knew about it. Jillian wanted to keep it that way but feared her son may rebel in his search for his father.

  Receiving no answer to his question, the driver chose the front entry to the House of Parliament.

  An ABC reporter approached, and fired his question, ‘We’ve seen photos of the dog tags of twelve men supposedly missing in action on Devil’s Rock in 1995. When is the parliament going to expose their fate, and can you confirm that your boyfriend was the commander of that unit?’

  Jillian quoted the party line. ‘It has not yet been confirmed if the tags belonged to members of that team of brave men. I have never dated a soldier so the answer to your question is a clear no.’ Brushing past, she relaxed a little as she reached the security of the inside of the building.

  Her Federal Police bodyguards ushered her past the other reporters gathered like a shark’s feeding frenzy. This was the part of public life Jillian detested. Making up lies on the run, then trying to cover her arse when some unrelenting reporter tried hi-jacking her answer later on. Sometimes six months elapsed before she was confronted with the question she originally dodged.

  Walking towards her office, Jillian wondered how the hell the reporter would know whom she dated twenty years ago. More to the point, how much more did he know? She spun around, thinking she’d ask one of her bodyguards to get the reporter’s name but decided against it.

  Jillian walked through a pristine outer room into her own inner office, whose decor was both modern and functional. She sat down behind her desk, her heart still pounding from the reporter’s question and glanced at the large framed photo of her father looking down on her.

  ‘Oh, Dad – what have you got us into?’

  Again, she flicked through the Indigo File, looking for the water-tight funding deal that had been struck for as long as Indigo was allowed to operate on Australian soil. The party was granted funding for campaign purposes. But the question was why Indigo? That patch was nothing more than desert, ridged with limestone. She knew the area from some of John’s tales of the once top-secret training ground used for Special Ops.

  Jillian pulled a photo from her desk drawer. A handsome 25-year-old army Major in full dress uniform looked back at her. Except for young John, the photo was the only thing she had to remind her of the man she once dearly loved. Still loved. Even when told John was MIA, Jillian never dated again. She slipped the photo back into the drawer. A tear formed and rolled down her cheek.

  Gathering the agenda file, she stood up, her white dress hugging her curvy body. As she walked through the outer office, Karen, her secretary, stood up, grabbed a tissue and rushed over.

  ‘Your make-up is smeared. Hang on – I’ll touch it up for you.’

  Karen smiled warmly as she dabbed at Jillian’s face, gently repairing the problem.

  ‘Are you okay, Prime Minister?’

  Jillian nodded. ‘Just one of those “Minties moments” we women have.’ She laughed.

  ‘Can’t have you going to the meeting looking like the wreck of the Hebrides, can we?’ joked Karen reassuringly.

  ‘Thanks, Karen. You’re a darling.’

  Chapter 2

  The PM’s Private Meeting Room.

  Parliament House, Canberra ACT

  Jillian took her seat at the head of the long table in the centre of the room, glancing at the nametags at each place. She took the few minutes before the start of the meeting to once again flick over the Indigo file.

  Dale Myers from ASIO walked in. ‘Morning, PM,’ he said, placing his papers on the table in front of his nametag. The PM looked up.

  ‘Oh, ASIO Director! Must be expecting an interesting meeting?’

  ‘Just here purely as an advisor to you this time, Jillian. I think you can knock this problem on the head once and for all. I will run it past you once you have heard the gist of the meeting.’

  ‘It sounds intriguing, Dale.’

  She stopped talkin
g as others began to drift into the room and take their place around the table. Large photos of former party members hung on the walls, a small down-light shining over their faces. Jillian often thought that these dignitaries’ photos were placed there as a pointed reminder of party allegiance, to warn against individual decisions being made in the room. Sometimes she wished she could turn the photos over.

  Jillian was stunned when her father walked into the room. He took the seat at the other end of the table that was reserved for the appointed director of the meeting. It was the chair of power, with jurisdiction to override the PM’s chair at these meetings. She looked at her father and smiled at him, acknowledging his presence. He nodded back and took his seat.

  Secretary of the meeting, Phil Harper, tapped the gavel. He cleared his throat. ‘Meeting is in order. Director Gillman has called the meeting in regard to Indigo. It appears many of our opposition have been receiving unfavourable reports from property owners around the lease site, protesting that it is blocking movement of cattle and other commodities on their way to market.’