In London, Geoff Letts whose job it was to act as coordinator and liaison between the five transformer teams had just arrived back from the United States, the final leg of a round tour of inspection.
Ten days earlier he’d set off from the United Kingdom and had travelled first to the Philippines. He had found their item, which had been imported in the name of a well-paid local businessman in rented premises.
One of Kane’s team who held a local passport appeared to be a proud proprietor of an engineering shop.
From the Philippines, Letts had travelled on to find the situation was the same in Toronto and Washington. Each item imported in the name of a local business and housed in premises rented from that same business.
Everything was in place.
The pieces that had taken months to assemble were ready, and a discreet communications network had been set up and tested. All that was needed was Kane’s order to let the game begin.
A car was waiting for him at Heathrow airport.
“Andy, you’d better do a few loops just to make sure we’re protecting our privacy.” Letts didn’t expect a tail, but life had taught him to take nothing for granted.
Forty-five minutes later they pulled to a stop outside a small shop front which was, under normal circumstances, a direct ten-minute drive from the airport. The shop front with a ‘For Lease’ sign in its window was small. Wide enough for probably five doors like the one he slid his key into.
He stepped inside where dust and grit crunched under his feet as he walked through its front room. Another locked door opened to the shops office and storage room.
It was a bare room except for a telephone, and he chuckled at a sudden thought of Maxwell Smart.
His watch told him he was seven minutes early. So he brushed away some of the dust which was heavy on the floor and sat down with his back resting against the wall. He’d learnt many things over the years, and one of them was to catch naps whenever and wherever he could. Cat naps of short duration kept tiredness at bay. It also allowed him to clear unnecessary thoughts and images from his mind, and regain focus.
This was his state of his mind when the telephone finally rang. His eyes opened instinctively as his hand easily found the hand piece in the half light of the room.
“Hello. Is that you?” He said.
“Yes it’s me. Is that you?” Kane came back.
“Yes, it’s me,” Letts answered. They were simple passwords, but effective, and without either one the men would know that something was wrong.
“How’d your trip go?”
“Perfect. I’ve checked all the shops. Each has its transport, lifting gear, electrical equipment, everything necessary right down to an aquarium for the office. Although over the last week it seems that each station has had some excess material stolen, which has been reported to the local authorities. Outside of that, all stations are on standby and ready to roll. They need only to hear the word from you.”
Kane had been looking forward to hearing this information, and it confirmed to him that his station was the only one who had yet to report a theft. Once he’d announced a similar loss, then the hill side of snow that they had been building for nearly a year now, would suddenly show the early signs of an inevitable avalanche.
He liked the way that Letts passed on information. Every piece in a form that was easy to understand which would sound like general conversation to any eavesdropper.
“What about the sales teams?” Kane asked.
He knew there were five sales teams. He didn’t know who they were, but he’d been advised by his boss Athol they would be out there. There was a team committed to each of the items. Each team well versed and well connected in the world of arms dealing and underworld black markets. Kane was not in the position to contact his boss Athol and it was more than curiosity which led him to ask of the sales teams. It was his need to know how that part of the operation was progressing, so he had something of an overall picture.
Letts was not ready for the question.
“Err, that’s really Athol’s area of expertise, but it appears that your shipping delay has come as a blessing in disguise. It’s given the salesmen the opportunity to advertise through their contacts early, and they’ve reported there are two interested parties already. The salesmen in the Philippines and the U.K have learnt that although these prospective buyers don’t know exactly how the items work, it seems they are willing to learn. They’re chaffing at the bit to get their hands on any media that will help to make their voices heard.” Kane understood what Letts meant by ‘their voices.’
The people, with whom the salesmen dealt, had only one way of making their voices heard. It was usually accompanied by smoke, flame, shrapnel and the pain of innocent bystanders.
“I’ll call this number on Monday at twelve noon, London time.” Letts said.
Kane did a mental calculation and made note in his small pocket book, although he doubted he would forget this moment in modern history. The lives of the population of the world were about to be turned upside down, and although they didn’t know the moment they would most certainly not forget the day.
“Let our people know it should be green light time early next week. Tell them to relax a little for the weekend, and then to gear themselves up for mid-week. Remind them that they need to be sharp.” Kane said.
Letts promised he would before Kane inquired.
“I’m pretty sure you could do with a bit of rest, eh?”
“Yes, I am tired. I’ll let the people know, and then go to sleep somewhere for a day or two.”
“Good. Do that and I’ll talk to you on Monday.”
*****
Lee had read from A to Z in Sudovich’s diary. He’d stopped once to go to the toilet during its digestion, but even then he’d read the diary while he walked to the toilet door. It certainly made interesting reading, and at times Lee wished Sudovich was still alive, so he could kill him again.
His way.
There were two things on his mind when he finally looked up from the last page.
“Larry, have you noticed anything in your book about someone named John Kane?”
Larry stopped reading and turned back some pages looking for a particular entry.
“Yes, Mr. Lee. There’s an entry where Sudovich was paid a down payment of fifty thousand dollars for something or other. More recently there are payments made for import duties, shipping costs and land transport.” Larry stopped looking at his ledger and while allowing the pages he’d held to fall back into place he said, “There is also an entry in the correct ledger. It seems this Kane fellow rents one of your buildings.”
He stopped a moment to flick through the pages of this ledger, until running his fingers down a page.
“There are receipts for the rental of an industrial building in Grey Street, Alexandria. It does appear the goods associated with the import duties were delivered there.” He paused a moment, “Number 16, Grey Street.”
“Can you tell me what the imported goods were?”
Larry looked through the pile of receipts they’d found in Sudovich’s safe until he read from one.
“This shipping con note says it was an electrical transformer.”
Lee looked at him.
“What’s that?”
Larry wondered a moment.
“Sounds like one of those big things that looks like a radiator hung up on the top of power poles, I think. I’ve never thought of what they’re for. I’ve seen them, but they seem to be the kind of things that are just there and we take it for granted there is a reason for them to be there.”
“I think I know what you mean. At least Sudovich wasn’t importing transvestites in my company’s name. I think Lou Reed was a transformer, wasn’t he?” Lee said with a smile.
Larry saw the joke and chuckled.
“Yeah, well he seemed to go out of his way to suggest so anyway.”
Lee stood and walked to the electric kettle.
“More coffee?”
Larry nodded.
“Tea I think, thanks. What do you make of it Mr. Lee? I mean anything other than the obvious?”
Lee was a rarity in this world, he was an expert listener.
“What do you think is the obvious Larry?”
“I think that Sudovich was paid too handsome a deposit for his part in importing this Lou Reed thing.”
“I have a feeling you’re right. Now we have to wonder why? What is so important about it? Or maybe it is only the packaging for what may have been inside it.”
He handed Larry his tea.
“If its drugs, then I don’t need the competition and I certainly don’t need people operating out of my buildings. It’s a little too close to home. When other people’s business gets too close to me, then I need lawyers and they’ll bleed you dry if they get the chance. You know that anyway, you pay my bills.”
Larry remembered Lee’s bills and of course, his own divorce.
Lee drained the last of his coffee as he turned to Larry.
“By the way, where the hell is this place called Bourke? Didn’t you mention to me some time back that Sudovich had used my plane?” He stopped suddenly as he thought of something. Larry waited as Lee leant to the shelf below the small coffee table and picked up the newspaper he’d been reading the previous afternoon. Lee leafed through it until he came to the story about a boat explosion, and its possible connections to Bourke. He read it out loud as he picked up the diary and pointed to a page.
“Read from there on.”
Larry absorbed Sudovich’s last entries. “Do you know any of these people, Scott, Quinn or Horton?
Lee thought a moment.
“I know of Scott. I sacked that arsehole.”
Lee stared at the wall for a moment, and then as if he broke free from a distant memory he turned to face Larry.
“You’ve met Peter Quinn.”
“Yes I remember now. He was the one who liked to pick and choose his work wasn’t he?”
“Yes, a holier than thou type of bastard. He’s probably killed more people than he could count, and yet he still pulled the conscientious bullshit.” Lee was silent for a brief period before he posed the question, “I’m surprised Quinn would take on work offered by Sudovich. Scott yes. Quinn? No. Not if he had a choice. Sudovich must have had a hold on him.”
Lee looked Larry in the eye and held his fore finger up in the air before him, like a teacher might do when proposing a theoretical answer to a student. “Which might be reason enough for Quinn to be rid of Sudovich?”
Larry shrugged.
“Weston’s name is here also,” Lee continued, “but going by the question mark behind it, it would appear that he might not have been used. He’s very much in demand and would be hard to get hold of at short notice. It appears by the diary and my plane’s use, that something had gone wrong with Scott and Quinn. Sudovich was running out of time and clutching at straws.”
Lee asked, and then answered his own question.
“Who was the other one? Horton. Never heard of him, but there seems to be no doubt he was the last straw.” Lee suddenly changed the direction of his conversation, “They’re of no consequence anyway. The main thing at this moment in time is this boat explosion. When was it?” He looked at the date of the newspaper. “The boat explosion was on Tuesday, only two days ago.” His watch told him it was now two thirty-five on Friday morning and he corrected, “Three days ago. Which suggests to me that the hunt for the money is still on and it may not be far away?”
Larry looked a bit uncertain as Lee grinned down to where he sat behind Sudovich’s desk.
“Come on Larry. Long shots are part of the fun in life, and thirty mill is at least worth a look.” Larry was tired and his eyes ached, but he managed to call on reserves and conceal his uncertainty. He grinned back at Lee while at the same time a mental neon sign ‘wild goose chase’ flashed in his brain.
“Right, this is what we’ll do.” Lee advised. “Get Dan on the phone and tell him he’s driving to this Bourke place first thing in the morning. He mightn’t like the idea much at short notice, so let him whinge a bit, and then tell him he can take Mika with him. She’ll keep him happy, and she’ll know how to loosen the tongues of those bush yokels. She might be a bit unsure at first, because she has never been out of the city before, so I’ll her know she’ll be safe from the wild kangaroos with Dan.” He chuckled to himself as he paused for breath and then continued, “You know what we want Larry. Make sure he understands. Tell him to do it quietly and not draw any undue attention. While you’re doing that I’ll let Mika know she’s going for a ride in the country, then I’ll find Nibble’s boys and get them ready to keep an around the clock watch on 16 Grey Street.”
He turned toward Larry from the doorway.
“One more thing,” Lee said, as he pointed to the thousand dollars of Sudovich’s money he’d left on the corner of the desk, “You’ve done good work today, so I have left you a small bonus. When you’ve made the calls, knock off for the night and I’ll see you here around two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. We’ll go around and see what this bloke Kane has to say for himself O.K?”
They bid each other good night, before Lee left the building with forty-nine thousand dollars of Sudovich’s money tucked under his arm.
He’d had worse days.
*****
Friday morning saw Ben Preston working through the papers from his ‘in’ tray.
Since Saddam had been toppled, Ben’s office had been assigned the task of carefully screening, and in general keeping an eye out for people who were of interest. Those people whose names rang faint bells, as the Federal Police computers and the Australian Customs Service computers held their own private conversations.
One man’s passport had rung a faint bell, but as he was seen to be of very low interest he’d been put on the back burner. With these low interest subjects, Ben’s department usually waited until they started their own paper trail. Then after a week or more, Ben’s people would look into where their credit cards were used. More about where a card was used, not necessarily how often it was used. Unless the card was used very frequently in hardware stores or electronic spare parts outlets, then another bell would ring. Frequent use at these outlets was considered unusual for people who entered the country as tourists.
Ben’s department had no access to any person’s card, or how much was spent, just whether and where it was used. This particular person had been back in Australia since late February, and had registered a small engineering business in Alexandria. There was nothing unusual about this of course. The unusual part was that the man had left no credit card trail at all.
Ben read the slim file on the man.
Steve Walters was aged 35, and questioned in connection to insider trading on the Australian stock market before his rapid departure from Australia to England in 2000.
He remembered Walters, the yuppie, his life of fast cars and expensive suits of clothing. It was a big jump downward from stock exchange player to a small engineering shop. The possibility he’d learned a lesson and had found his true purpose in life was one Ben was prepared to entertain, until he found facts to prove otherwise.
Ben wrote the address of the business down on a piece of paper before putting the file back into his in tray. Deciding he would drive past the engineering shop on his way to the airport. Experience reminded him that it didn’t hurt to take a look, and after all he had to drive right by the place very soon.
He’d packed a small case the night before so he could drive straight to the airport from his office. It gave him the advantage of being ready to cut time, if for any reason he was held up at the office. As it was he had miles of time, and was in no hurry when he drove down Grey Street looking for the engineering works.
He didn’t have to look very hard. A large, new sign stared out at him as he pulled to the side of the road and allowed his policeman’s suspicious eye
s to rove about the place. It was a big colour bond shed with a brick and glass façade and it stood condemned to ordinariness in its similarity to many others like it in the street. Large windows gazed out toward the street, each of them wearing reflections of the few near dead shrubs that lined its high meshed front fence.
Ben noted nothing alarming about the place. Some men worked in the rear yard near a cube shaped wooden crate and the blue fluttering flash of an electric welder highlighted a double door side entrance to the building.
He looked up at the high front wall of the building and his gaze steadied on a small sign as he lifted his mobile from his jacket pocket.
“Laura, it’s me, Ben. Yes, I’m on my way there now. Listen, would you get in touch with a Clyde Stone Real Estate please?” He read to her the real estate telephone number from the wall sign.
“Find out from them who owns the buildings at 16 Grey Street, Alexandria, will you? No, that’s all. I’ll find out from you on Monday. Yes, you have a good weekend too.”
Ben glanced at the building and its activity once more, before he continued his journey to the airport.
CHAPTER 6
End It With A Lie Page 41
