by Clif Miller
Chapter 16
After some careful reflection, Jim proposed a solution to the possibility that Harry would know of Peter’s plans.
“In a minute we’ll go back in and reverse that talk of killing him. Say it was just a joke, that really you admire the guy, he’s got balls all that sort of stuff. Sing his praises. That’s simple psychology” suggested Jim.
They walked back up to the apartment and quietly moved into the living room with Peter for the first time feeling that his home was not necessarily the safe and secure domain he had thought it to be. Despite the strange sensations this elicited, or perhaps because of them, he went into the acting role with some apparent enthusiasm:
“Oh Harry’s just a pain in the arse at times” he said, sounding as flat as he could manage.
“Would you really kill the guy?” asked Jim.
“No of course not” said Peter. “It’s just sometimes I feel like ringing his neck. But you know he’s really a very nice guy and loads of fun to be with. I like the guy; who wouldn’t? I used to say I’d kill you too but it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Have you told Harry he puts too much on you at times?”
“No, I don’t think he understands what it’s like to be that much older. He’s young and dynamic, you know. He’s also smart. I think I’ll just make a point of getting to use the boat a bit more. Maybe if I invite Harry out on the boat he’ll see that recreation for a day or two is a great way to pick up your enthusiasm for everything else you do.”
Jim was nodding and approving by hand signs the line Peter was taking.
“So Harry just drives you a little too hard. Is that it really?” said Jim, signalling to Peter to continue.
“Yes, that’s all really” said Peter. “I’d like a week or two just to relax, you know. Forget the markets and all that stuff. Just plain relax.”
It took Harry a few days to call after hearing the threat to his life. He had played the tapes over and over but in the end had figured that it was just a heat of the moment thing and that Peter really wasn’t capable of killing anyone anyway; much less him.
Several days went by and then he rang to say that the consortium was taking a breather. They’d done so well recently that all the members were away on holidays. It was August after all.
“Have a rest Peter. I’ll be back in touch in a couple of weeks.” Peter responded by suggesting that Harry might like to come out on his pleasure boat for a day’s fishing, and Harry said he could manage that perhaps when they next got together in a couple of weeks.
Peter then knew for certain that Harry had overheard the conversations with Jim. He dialed up his old friend at the pharmaceuticals company and asked him over for a drink and a bit of a chat.
Paul Radowski came through the front door and said:
“I do love that view Peter. So this is how you spend all that money you make?”
“No, some of it I give to guys like you” Peter replied.
“Coffee?” said Angelique, appearing from the kitchen area.
“You haven’t met Paul honey, Paul this is Angelique, my wife” said Peter.
“Pleased to meet you Angelique” said Paul, taking Angelique’s proferred hand and bowing to kiss it in mock Victorian gallantry.
“‘Angie’ is fine” said Angelique, smiling warmly at Paul.
“Did someone say coffee?” said Peter.
“How do you like it?” said Angelique still looking at Paul.
“Black is fine” said Paul.
Angelique disappeared again and could be heard grinding the coffee beans.
“So what is it this time, Pete?” said his friend from way back.
“Just wanted to catch up and thank you for the work you did previously for me and my colleagues.”
Peter found it hard to remember that the apartment was bugged and that he then had to get Paul out to the balcony that overlooked the pool where he was certain there could be no listening device. He had a small brainwave and walked to his CD player, turned it on and turned the volume up just enough to make hearing any conversation inside the room difficult, and certainly the fact that they had moved outside would become less evident to a listener at a remote point. He then did what he hoped appeared to be a casual direction of the arm to motion Paul outside to the outdoor dining setting.
When Paul was comfortably seated by the pool and enjoying his coffee Peter told him that he was being blackmailed by a particularly nasty individual and was after a piece of paper the man always carried with him. What Peter needed was a pill to knock the individual out long enough to allow Peter to obtain and destroy the incriminating evidence. Could Paul, his long time friend, who had access to and understood all that the pharmaceutical industry had at its disposal, help him with that, he asked. He continued, by suggesting that something that could be disguised in a cup of coffee would be ideal.
Paul’s response was to tell Peter that there were a number of chemicals that could do what he wanted but most of them will adversely affect the taste of coffee. But there was one substance that could be used in coffee without any taste effects and it was likely to cause a sleep lasting from one to four hours depending on the individual. Paul named the substance and told Peter he could get it by week’s end.
“What do I owe you Paul?”
Both men knew the answer was that a large enough sum ensured all was to be a golden silence between the two.
“How does twenty-five hundred sound?” asked Paul.
“Just fine with me mate” said Peter. “In fact, why not round it out to five thousand against the next time I might need you?” Peter replied.
Paul was happy and when he left the apartment he had a wad about two centimetres thick inside a brown manilla envelope.
The planning proceeded apace. Peter had already decided to part with the campervan. He sold it the first day he advertised it and the people who bought it were ecstatic over their good fortune. He now had garage space left for his future planning. He had the lumber yard deliver him some plain pine timber planks and some framing material, and with the skill of the builder behind him he put together a handy box that looked remarkably like a coffin had it not been altogether too square at the ends. The top had a clasp and hinges so it opened like a glory box.
He scoured the scrap metal yards for solid metal objects suitable for boat moorings: heavy chain and heavy duty black iron shackles; a rather large zinc anode to prolong the life of the steel in a marine environment and sundry other smaller items. He finished up finding a rather heavy rail wheel but small enough in diameter that he could wheel it unaided and therefore get it to his boat without arousing undue suspicion. All the metal items were taken aboard the boat and carefully hidden in the aft engine compartment lockers.
He then estimated the time Harry was likely to be back in touch and he made a preliminary but flexible booking for a hire truck and strong-wheeled dolly. By this time Paul had arrived at the apartment with six pills that looked quite innocuous but he was adamant would not do more than knock the user out for a while.
Then the wait began. Meanwhile, Peter’s bank had confirmed the arrival of funds from a trust account in California so he was now in sufficient capital to plan an exit to a newly acquired country estate of which he was certain the consortium were unaware. The property was bought under a newly registered company name and he was quite certain that Harry would not know of its existence. He intended to quietly exit to this property once the task ahead was complete. He called Jim and they made plans to look at boats.
Once they were away from the apartment and outside on the way to the largest boat brokerage on the Harbour, Jim asked how Peter now felt about Harry.
“I have no choice mate. He’s got to go. He’s got me so close to being caught so many times already if I don’t do it I’ll end up in prison for the rest of my days.”
“If you need a hand I could help” offered Jim.
“Some things are probably best done alone mate. I think I have it
worked out. You’ll hear sooner or later.”
“Well just remember I’m there if you need me for anything” said Jim quietly.
“Okay, so back to this boat business. What are you going to do, moor or trail?” Peter asked.
“Oh, I couldn’t be fussed with launching and hauling out all the time” said Jim. “Besides it’d be too big.”
“Okay Jim. How big is too big?” said Peter.
“Well I reckon something around fifty at least” said Jim.
“Have you any idea of the cost of such a boat mate?” asked Peter.
“Yeh, I’ve looked at a few” said Jim.
“So what’s your budget?” said Peter.
“ We can go three million” said Jim “or a bit more.”
Peter was astonished. He could not comprehend how Jim had already bought a Vaucluse home on the waterfront for over nine million dollars and was now in the market for a boat at over 3 million dollars as well. He’d no idea Jim had done so well.
“When did you make all this money?” Peter said.
“I’ll tell you sometime, mate” Jim laughed, and they made their plans for looking at some vessels the next week.
Harry was as good as his word and turned up late one afternoon while Peter was washing the sports coupe in the parking area in front of his garage.
Peter finished the job as he was almost done, then invited Harry inside. Angelique was out so Peter knew he had the task to complete himself. Harry sat down and said that George had planned the next operation.
“The salmon farms?” said Peter.
“We’re going to kill some fish, yes” Harry replied.
“Our old idea?” queried Peter.
“I think I was Mr Archer’s idea” said Harry, deprecatingly.
“Coffee?” Peter said, then added: “It won’t be as good as Angie makes.”
Harry accepted the offer and went on to describe how a virus from sea farmed salmon in Scotland would be obtained and brought to Tasmania. While he talked, Peter ground the coffee beans, carefully took distinctly different mugs from the shelf and placed one of the sleep pills in Harry’s mug, noting with great care which mug it was.
Harry was still talking excitedly about the way they would use a new hollow steel rule that he had had made so that the interior hollow was completely invisible to the x-ray machine.
Peter temporarily distracted things by formally inviting Harry to go fishing with him the following Saturday. Harry accepted and the time and place of departure from the Marina were duly agreed.
Peter put the coffee in front of him and the conversation returned to planning for the salmon enterprise. Harry sipped the coffee and Peter did likewise, finding it difficult to keep focus on the tasks ahead while agonizing over how slowly a cup of coffee can be consumed. Eventually however, it was done and Peter offered a refill which Harry accepted. Peter asked Harry if they had to go to Scotland to pick up the disease organism and Harry said that they would but it would be easy because there were several research centres that had it in dehydrated form because they were all endeavouring to develop vaccines against it and they were regularly swapping cultures of the microbe.
Harry got about that far then Peter noticed that his speech was beginning to slur. Peter kept on with the questions until Harry no longer answered and Peter was able to pass in front of him without his eyes registering the movement despite the fact that they were wide open.
‘Now or never’ he told himself and went into the kitchen and took a polythene bag from a bag holder and a piece of string from the roll inside the pantry. After first shaking Harry and calling his name, finding that he was indeed totally unconscious Peter pulled the bag over Harry’s head, tied the string firmly around his neck and sat down and finished his second cup of coffee.
Harry didn’t move. He sat as though this was normal behaviour. Peter got up and went through the connecting door to the elevator lobby that gave access to the garage on the level two floors below his living room. He pulled the new box he’d made close to the door and jammed open the elevator doors. It was fortunate that the frequently absent neighbours beneath his apartment were not there now. He came back and Harry was still sitting there large as life. Peter waited and waited. After at least half an hour he went to Harry and gave him a none too gentle poke in the ribs. There was no reaction. Peter then picked up a limp arm and checked for pulse but there was none.
When Angelique came in the front door it was to see Harry, bag now removed from his head, sitting there with his eyes wide open but no life left in him. Peter looked at Angelique and very quietly said:
“The pills worked.”
Together they half lifted and half dragged the corpse across the living room and down the hallway to the elevator doors. When the elevator opened at the garage level they managed with some exertion to drag the body through into the garage and then lifted it into the new box.
Peter went out on the balcony and used his mobile to call the truck hire company and asked until what time they stayed open. They told him they’d be there if he had a hire contract. I was after 6 pm when he had completed the paperwork and left with the truck for the apartment, Angelique following in the coupe.
The dolly supplied by the company proved a godsend and after lowering the truck’s ramps at the door of the garage he was able to haul the weight up the ramp. It helped that he had explained to Angelique that she should alternately move two blocks of wood he had to backstop the wheels of the dolly as he gained purchase by twisting the thing from side to side.
Having loaded Harry’s body into the truck, he closed the garage and the two of them headed for the boat. He could only get the truck to within about 100 metres of the boat but it did not matter. There were few people around the marina and a hire truck with large payload was not all that unusual there at any time of day or night. A casual observer would think that perhaps it was a refrigeration unit going aboard the luxury yacht, and that was Peter’s story should anyone ask. But nobody took the slightest interest in the proceedings.
Once the cargo was aboard, Peter drove the truck back to the apartment and parked it there. He and Angelique put on some warm clothes for the night at sea and by 9 pm they were heading out through the Heads for a distance that Peter thought appropriate for avoiding any quick discovery. The water depth is slow to increase and Peter was not satisfied until the body would be in well over one hundred and fifty fathoms. This put them about twenty nautical miles off the coast.
When they had reached the desired point he and Angelique rolled the box onto its side and then removed Harry to a sitting position against the transom step to the dive platform at the stern of the vessel. Peter then took the chain and fashioned a tight loop around the body and secured it with the shackle and further attached strong steel cable to each limb and back to the central chain. The other end of the chain was taken through the eighty kilogram rail wheel and back to the main securing shackle on Harry’s body.
There was no lifting to the chore. They simply slid the rail wheel aft until it over balanced into the sea, taking first the chain then the body.
“Goodbye Harry” said Peter.
A few good strokes with the heavy hammer smashed the box into splinters and these were jettisoned as so much dunnage. The run back to the Harbour was straight forward the wind having been no more than a gentle 5 knots all evening. They reached the apartment at about one-thirty am and Peter said he did not feel sleepy so they sat up and celebrated with Harry’s whisky.
Suddenly Peter was horrified. He had forgotten to get Harry’s car keys off the body. His sports coupe was bound to be just up the street somewhere as was Harry’s custom when he visited. They went for a quick stroll and there it was not three houses away. Peter had not previously had need to hotwire a car but this night he suddenly wished he knew how to do it. He was about to break a side window to get into the car when he had a better idea.
He went back to the apartment and called the breakdown service of the Auto
Club. He told a story of his brother going off overseas with the car keys in his pocket and said that he had to get the car to a friend’s place and the only way they could do it was to put it in a truck. Could they come and help him roll it up the ramp to the truck?
They said they’d be an hour, and by this time Peter was glad to have assistance of any sort. They were there by 3 am and had the car unlocked within a few minutes. The car was inside the hire truck by 3.15. Although Peter had club membership he decided to leave no trace of the visit and paid in cash together with a fifty dollar tip for the unusual night time service.
“Greatly appreciated” said the driver, and drove off.
“What now?’ said Angelique.
“We dump the car” said Peter.
They drove south of the city into the national park with its long deserted sections of highway looking for an unobtrusive place to abandon an expensive car. Eventually they found a small road that seemed to lead to nowhere in particular but at least off the main highway. When they were clear of the highway and obscured from possible observation, Peter turned the truck. They got out and walked back along the road a little just to make certain it was deserted, then returned to the truck, opened the rear doors, pulled out the ramp and rolled the car till it was almost ready to slip down the ramp. Peter then got in, pushed the last bit with his foot before closing the door and the vehicle ran backwards with him having steering control and limited brake management. Where it stopped, the vehicle looked exactly as if someone had driven it there. Before he left it he thoroughly wiped the steering wheel and anywhere else he had touched it to remove his finger prints.
They returned to the apartment by 6 am and made some strong coffee. There would be no trace of what had happened to Harry. There was no mention of it on any news broadcast they heard. When George Rosenthahl telephoned Peter and asked if Harry had been in touch Peter said yes. He had come and told him about the plans for the salmon. Then he had left and Peter had not heard more.
“What do you want me to do George?” asked Peter.
“It’s not like Harry” said George. “Something has happened to him.”
“I’ll be in touch” said George.
Peter said to Angelique that the murder of Harry was their secret. Nobody else was to know about it under any circumstances. While Jim had known of his intentions he was to know no more. Angelique concurred; she was after all at least an accessory to murder.
A couple of days later Peter was out on the water looking at new and secondhand boats with Jim. In between inspections the conversation returned to how Jim had done so much better in the past months since he went off ‘sick’ so to speak.
“Well” Jim said “one thing I did learn in my years at the University or the ‘funny farm’ as I called it was that you could never have too much information. Now when I was going off sick as you put it I came up with the brainwave that what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. I planted a little listening device and transmitter in your study and another one inside your lounge chair. That way I was able to monitor your planning sessions with Harry. This meant that I too could participate in the selling down and buying back of all those companies you were causing to have so much grief.”
“You always were the cunning one Jim” said Peter.
“So I know about Harry now Pete” added Jim.
“So how do I find the bugs in my apartment?” asked Peter.
“I’ll give you a contact. He’ll sweep it for you” said Jim.
Peter was glad that Jim had managed to stay involved. It seemed to absolve him from any need to help his older brother any more. That same week they selected a boat for Jim and Peg. It was a smaller cousin of Peter’s vessel, a Manhattan 50 that came in at just over two million dollars. Jim and Peg were to experience many years of sea, sun and pleasure cruising before Jim’s health eventually again deteriorated and even the relatively mild stress of running a larger power vessel was ruled out by his doctor. It was not, however, as exciting or exhilarating as Jim had anticipated once he became skipper of his own boat.
Jim’s contact turned up five bugs in Peter’s apartment. Two were the ones Jim had mentioned but the others were all part of the Consortium’s thorough procedures to keep informed. Peter knew then that he had limited time to disappear. For one thing, the Consortium would know immediately that their listening devices had been found. They would at least strongly suspect Peter in the murder of Harry because they’d have heard him at the apartment but then they’d have heard nothing but possibly rather muffled noises as Harry’s body was dragged to the elevator door. It would not be difficult to confirm their suspicions.
The following day Peter took Angelique to the Bathurst property, paid in cash another year’s management fees to the Brownfields and gave them some work details involving significant fencing upgrades and then drove back through the mountains and north to the Barrington Tops where his latest property lay. Here he explained to Angelique they would settle in for the duration or at least ‘until the heat blows over’.
It was a good plan. The Consortium had no knowledge of the new abode.
The fatal mistake appeared to be that Peter decided after hearing nothing further from George Rosenthahl over the next two months that they remained in their anonymous hideaway that it would be safe to return to Potts Point at least for a short visit. Peter also found that shut away inland he missed the water and part of his plan for the visit to the city included a trip out on the boat.
He went alone, Angelique having decided that there were things she wished to purchase in the city while they were there. The vessel was found abandoned at sea. George Rosenthahl coincidentally was listed as a passenger on an international flight across the Pacific from Sydney to Los Angeles on the day the empty boat was found drifting some five miles north-east of the Harbour entrance.
Paul Radowski came over to offer his condolences to Angelique. He was one of about twenty people at Peter’s memorial service. A note of condolences from a George Rosenthahl and George Kuidel in California was read out. Paul Radowski and Angelique seemed to find comfort in each other’s company and fairly soon thereafter Paul moved into the Point Piper apartment. Both he and Angelique well knew that the reach of the Consortium might not be done with them as both were at least accessories to Harry’s murder although Paul might claim he was duped into supplying the murder weapon.
The new relationship did not go well. Angelique found she had acquired quite a taste for Harry’s favourite medicine and within a year she was diagnosed as a severe alcoholic. Paul was no substitute for Peter. He had little ambition, having given up his work at the pharmaceuticals company, and seemed content to lie about the apartment all day just enjoying loud metallic music or the almost endless string of mind numbing DVD’s as well as the pool.
Within two years Angelique’s predilection for the bottle had led to her admission to a sanatorium for recuperative alcoholics and within four years she was diagnosed with liver failure due to alcoholic poisoning. In her more aware moments the irony of this outcome was not lost on her. Peg and Jim had tried to get her away from the bottle but without success and they were to watch as she passed through the final stages of her life at the relatively youthful age of just forty-three. A year later Paul was found in the apartment after the odour of rotting flesh penetrated adjacent properties. He had been tortured then tied up securely and left to die by starvation.
The Bathurst mansion and land fell into possession of the Brownfields. Several years after they last heard from Mr McPherson they decided to change their names to match those registered on their title deeds and thereby instantly became quite wealthy.
Angelique also neglected the newly acquired property at Barrington Tops and after some years of the local government search failing to find its rightful owners the property was auctioned for unpaid rates and taxes, the windfall going to state coffers. Peter’s boat and remaining wealth were inherited by his estranged children.
The Consortium did
not pursue Jim and Peg but both were to live their remaining years with a shadow of their misdeeds haunting them and wondering a little why their lives were not necessarily filled with the total happiness that their wealth might otherwise have made possible.
Epilogue
Needless to say, the Tasmanian salmon industry was spared the predations of Peter Milner and George Rosenthahl, as were many other potential industries upon which they had passed a thoughtful eye. But the practice of short selling in the stock market continues to this day. There is no industry that is safe from the Harry Goldsmids, Peter Milners and George Rosenthahls of this world while stock exchanges allow people to play fast and loose with other people’s savings and hopes for a better life. Financial advisory companies including major banks try to help their clients by giving them advice on what stocks to buy and sell, then to another group of people they lend money for them to short sell the very stocks their more conservative clients have been advised to purchase. Many superannuation funds also lend their client or member stocks to the short sellers, incredibly low fees being received for the service, and then receive them back in grossly devalued form after the short seller has used them in a practice known as ‘covered short selling’. It is the most corrupt of systems. They are the ones who are truly without conscience. They and their ilk deserve to have Peter Milner and Harry Goldsmid and their shadows and imitators stalk them for the rest of their days.
About Clif Miller
Clif spent his working life in education including elementary schools, high schools and Universities He also dabbled in inventing and managed to fit in considerable travel to trade shows in North America and Europe as well as Australia. Among his patented and other inventions is an alternative design to the chess board which produces a very different twist on the age old game. Intrigue has been at the core of much of his work where politics rather than preferred behaviors often dictated terms.
This is the first published novel by the author. He has, however, written a number of as yet unpublished works of fiction but most of these are now considerably dated. The present novel was written in a short burst of writing in the early stages of the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) which arguably is not yet over. At the time, he was endeavoring to ensure his own financial resources would last the remainder of his life; a task entrusted to millions of other retired Australians, many of whom also have no prior experience of the world of finance and investing.
Now retired, the author spends much of his time sailing and maintaining a Bavaria yacht in the waters south and east of Tasmania as well as fishing, swimming (in summer) bushwalking, travel, gardening, bird watching and photography.
