As Royle closed his driver’s door, a scruffy, bearded individual emerged from the house, right hand in his jacket pocket, not saying a word, just watching Royle.
Royle took a step in the man’s direction. “What are you up to this time, Dan?”
As Charlie had pointed out three or so weeks ago, their discovery of Dan’s mutilated body in the Florida tiger pen presented as many questions as answers. And as Royle had explained to her, once your brain becomes occupied with an enquiry of this complexity there is no switching it off. Somehow, over the past few days he had subconsciously worked out the identity of the man they had been watching.
The turning point probably came with Mandu’s revelation that Reed smoked. It seemed logical, then, that whilst he was inside the house marking the parrot eggs, he should also collect a sample cigarette end from the many on offer. He had then mailed that to Paula back in Miami, suggesting that the lab perform DNA checks on:
(i) the Queensland sample he was now providing;
(ii) the body parts they still held labelled ‘Daniel Morgan’; and
(iii) something from either Dan’s apartment or his office desk that they were certain contained his DNA.
Paula’s telephone call to the car on their way back to Cairns the previous afternoon had confirmed his suspicions. The unkempt individual now confronting him was none other than his one-time Marine and federal partner, Daniel Morgan, the same as was supposedly torn to pieces by the tiger.
“That’s far enough,” Dan growled, withdrawing the hand from his pocket and pointing what looked to Royle like a standard Department-issue 38 calibre revolver in his direction. “And we’ll have that Browning on the ground where I can see it.”
Royle stopped obediently, raising both hands in a mock show of submission before dropping them and reaching behind, extracting the automatic and placing it at his feet.
Dan waved the 38 in a beckoning motion. “Kick it over here, and I’ll have the phone.”
Again, Royle did as requested, using his toe to gently nudge the Browning and his personal mobile in his former partner’s direction. He could see that the man’s eyes were all over the place.
“And the other one.”
“Other one what, Dan?”
“Don’t try being clever. The other phone. Whitland will have issued new phones after you found the body.”
Extracting his office phone, Royle placed that too on the ground, again toeing it in Dan’s direction, and wondering where the Aboriginal employee might be. He decided Dan would have given him the morning off.
“Looks like you got yourself into a bit of trouble, one way or another.”
Dan was slow in responding. “You just had to go poking your fucking nose in.”
“That’s not how it happened, Dan. Whitland dragged me in to help find you, and for a while there we thought we had.”
“Who’s we? Bloody Charlie Lacey?”
“How did you find working with her?”
“She’s a looker right enough but I cut her out.”
“Seems like you cut everyone out, including Whitland.” Then Royle changed the subject, taking a sideways step towards what was beginning to look like a police car. “You had another visitor?”
Dan became even more threatening, waving the gun above his head as if reminding Royle he still had it. “I said stay there.”
However, what Royle could now see of the other vehicle filled him with concern. The driver’s door was open and a limp hand hung down, brushing the grass.
“Damned police. I phoned them to report you for messing around in our business, and that bastard started questioning me. Wanted to see my passport, wanted to look around the buildings.”
“This is not some lawful operation, Dan. And I’m guessing you’re not officially in Australia, so you decided to shoot him. Sounds like a dumb move.”
He could almost hear the wheels grinding away in Dan’s head, plus he was beginning to think Dan was probably the worse for a drink or two. He realised this might work to his own advantage.
Dan pointed the gun towards the police car and its silent occupant. “They say that once you’ve killed one then it doesn’t matter. Besides, neither of us is any stranger to killing; we did it for a living.”
Royle was beginning to realise that alcohol might be just part of the answer and that Dan could truly be losing it, exactly as Sharon and Charlie had suggested. Either way, he decided to try and steer the conversation away from the dead officer.
“One thing I would like to know is who owned the body in the tiger enclosure. I’m guessing Alynski? He seems to be the only one unaccounted for in all of this.”
Dan reached left-handed into his pocket, extracting a cigarette packet and removing one with his lips before producing a gold cigarette lighter. “The idiot had it coming from all directions. If I hadn’t killed him there were plenty more volunteers.”
“I heard he was a bit of an animal; his wife’s certainly gone off him. By the way,” Royle added, “it was the absence of that fancy cigarette lighter of yours that first set me wondering if the body we found might not be you.”
* * *
Up in the forest clearing Charlie was having difficulty interpreting what was happening down below her. She had seen her partner get out of the Toyota and had seen Reed simultaneously emerge from the house. What puzzled her was the rear end of another vehicle protruding from behind the building. Try as she might she could not see any third person.
However, she had seen Reed produce a gun from his pocket, in which case there seemed to be nothing preventing him from using it on her partner. But there also appeared to be a great deal of talking going on, and she recalled what Royle had said about the importance of obtaining information. If they were still talking then presumably Royle must be listening.
* * *
Still facing Dan’s revolver, Royle recalled what Sharon Morgan had told him about her estranged husband needing to offload his troubles from time to time.
“Heard a rumour you and Gus Winnings’ wife Pat might be an item,” he suggested. “That would have caused problems.”
He seemed to have hit a nerve, if the reaction of his former partner was anything to go by.
“Typical Winnings. Because he hadn’t the balls to do anything about it himself, he persuaded Alynski to fly to Florida to take me out. It had nothing to do with Pat; Alynski and Winnings were worried about the possible loss of income, now I was onto their parrot licensing racket.”
“If you shot Alynski, then who dumped the body after you switched clothes and personal items? Quigly?”
“My, you’ve been busy,” Dan sneered. “What else do you think you know?”
Royle was finding this all very useful, although the trick, rather obviously, was to not get so far up Dan’s nose that he felt forced into doing something silly. Royle tried moving a little closer.
“I’ll not bother telling you again, Phil. Just stay put.”
He backed off, returning to Dan’s query about how much he knew. “I’ve thought about this. My guess is you discovered there was serious money to be made in bird smuggling, so you wanted a piece of the action. You also discovered Winnings was issuing the dodgy import permits.”
Dan just smiled at him.
“Your shooting Alynski must have created a bit of a deadlock,” Royle continued. “Winnings knew you’d killed his partner from the Asian end, whereas you knew enough to make him feel threatened.”
“So you say.”
“I’m also guessing Quigly upset Winnings, who decided to get rid of him. Probably because Quigly was exchanging smuggled parrot eggs with other collectors but also, unfortunately for Winnings, complete with details of who collected the eggs and where.”
“We couldn’t trust Quigly.”
Royle grinned. “Involving Quigly was where it started t
o unravel. I’m guessing he was paid to drive up from Miami and swap your clothes and personal items with the dead Alynski’s. And risk his own neck getting the body into the tiger compound using a map someone drew for him.”
Again, Dan said nothing.
“What you don’t know is that Quigly was not up to the job. He was supposed to clean out your vehicle where he parked it by the motel. But he left your bag in the trunk.”
Royle could see Dan shifting his weight from leg to leg, obviously becoming bored with the confrontation. There were a few matters that still needed tidying up, however.
“I presume Winnings thought up the snake in the mailbox. Did you know Whitland has a bad heart?”
Dan flashed him the briefest of smiles. “Winnings had some crazy idea that with Whitland out of the way he could regain control of the Department, stop you nosing around and persuade you to back off.”
“I’ll not back off, Dan, you know me better than that.” But then he changed direction entirely. “What do you know about drugs?”
Dan stared back at him. “You already know what I think about drugs.”
Royle realised he probably did know Dan well enough after all these years to decide whether he was lying or telling the truth. And this sounded like the truth.
“You’re not smuggling drugs along with the birds?”
Dan was clearly annoyed now. “I’m not going to bother discussing this. It’s not happening. Go home and spend some time with that daughter of yours.”
Royle was about to pursue the point when from somewhere close behind him there was an explosion. He immediately knew the cause; this was not the first time he had been close to an exploding grenade. It seemed to come from the area of the boundary fence, between the forest and the buildings. Royle was immediately aware of someone screaming in pain, and without thinking he turned to help, only half aware of Dan shouting for him to remain where he was.
Briefly he returned his attention to Dan, realising his ex-partner had set lethal traps to intercept anyone attempting a surprise entry via the rear of the property.
“Crazy bastard, you put trip-wired grenades around the fence! I’m going to help, so you’d better use that gun if you’re going to.”
Even as Royle turned away he saw Dan raise the 38 in his direction. Amidst the confusion of the continued screaming, his ears still ringing from the explosion, he felt the blast from Dan’s gun, accompanied by a burning pain in his left shoulder.
Returning his attentions to his former partner, Royle watched an ominous red laser spot appear in the centre of Dan’s chest, followed instantly by the crack of a rifle from up on the hill. Dan sank to his knees, one hand clutching his chest, the other still holding the 38. Then, with some supreme effort, powered probably by anger, he raised his arm and the gun was again pointing in Royle’s direction. He held his breath, watching Dan’s finger tighten on the trigger, just as a second bullet struck the side of the man’s head, exactly where another small laser dot had just appeared.
Sixteen
Royle felt quite unmoved at seeing his long-time working partner stretched face down in the parking area. Retrieving the Browning and his two phones he kicked Dan’s revolver away from the man, who even in death appeared to be reaching for the weapon. He next headed in the direction of the explosion, carefully seeking out any additional tripwires as he went. It was soon obvious he would have had no chance of saving Mandu’s life, even if he had arrived immediately.
Unlike Dan’s death, this did upset him. It also crossed his mind that, apart from the obvious, there were two other important issues arising from the young man’s tragic and unexpected death. Firstly, there were several small children and their mother to consider; and secondly, if Mandu really did know the whereabouts of the supposedly extinct paradise parrot, then he had just taken the secret with him. Wherever it was he had gone.
Returning to the parking area Royle confirmed the police officer was indeed dead – from three separate bullet wounds. Then, using the satellite phone, he called his police contact, suggesting someone come and deal with three violent deaths, one of them a police officer. He could tell the news was not well received. Whilst he was attending to this he noticed Charlie approaching along the driveway, still clutching his rifle.
He watched her examining the body, lying face down where she had shot him, aware that to the best of his knowledge she had never previously killed anyone.
“There’s something you need to know,” he explained. “That I couldn’t tell you beforehand, so I apologise.” He knelt down and turned Dan over.
She looked for quite some time, a tear in the corner of her eye. Watching her drag her eyes away from the body, he sensed she was about to take him to task for not revealing Reed’s true identity.
“I only found out for sure a few days ago. I thought it would be easier this way. I knew Dan; there was no way he was going to be cooperative. This solves a lot of problems.”
She made no response.
“Anyhow, who’s coming up with the surprises now? You took my rifle.”
He guessed she was about to respond, but then her face switched from anger to one of concern. “He shot you. Take off that shirt.”
He did as she asked, realising he was ignoring the pain of his own injury amidst all the commotion. The round from Dan’s gun had gone through his left arm, from front to back, missing the bone and exiting below the shoulder. Charlie sat him down on the back of the Toyota, plugging the wound as best she could before removing the other shirt sleeve and using it as a bandage.
“You took my rifle from the Toyota while I signed the hire car agreement?”
She managed a brief smile. “It’s what comes of keeping doubtful company. Madge says it’s bad with Mandu?”
“It’s very bad so I suggest you don’t go there.”
“When did you think it might be Dan?”
“I thought it was strange when we failed to find his cigarette lighter in the tiger pen. Then when Mandu said Reed was a smoker I started wondering, so I sent Paula a DNA sample and she confirmed it yesterday. The phone call in the car.”
Royle tried focusing his mind, aware time was slipping by. “What we must do now is leave the police in no doubt we have urgent business back home. They’re not going to be at all impressed by this little mess. I’ll give Angie Watts a call.”
Royle suggested using a dust sheet from the garage to cover Mandu’s shattered body, taking care to seek out any remaining tripwires and disarm the grenades. They next searched the main building, confirming the incubators were now empty. By the telephone were two folders of correspondence relating to bird transactions, plus an address book. They also found a bag of Dan’s clothes, from amongst which they recovered his passport and American driver’s licence. They then went through the bag a second time, ensuring they had removed all evidence of ‘Reed’s’ true identity.
Turning their attention next to the bed, beneath it they found a rucksack, all three expressing their surprise as Charlie undid the zip. It was crammed full of a mixture of Australian and US dollars, mostly in bundles, a quick count suggesting the equivalent of around US$200,000. Surprisingly, Royle seemed unhappy with the find. As far as he was concerned it was a problem they could do without, though he could just possibly see an upside.
They had no knowledge of whose money this was or where it came from, though logic suggested a connection with bird smuggling. With Alynski and Dan now both dead, Winnings would doubtless be denying any involvement in these activities. It therefore seemed likely this money would end up in the hands of the Australian government. Although, still considering their options, it occurred to Royle that if there were any justice in this world then some of this cash would go towards taking care of Mandu’s family.
They took the money and any other items of interest outside, hiding them in the Toyota. Next, Royle returned to Dan’s body, removi
ng his cell phone before quickly checking for any other personal items. At that point Charlie took them back inside, pointing to the telephone answering machine. Unlike more up-to-date machines this one saved any incoming messages to a removable cassette. There were three recent messages, two concerning deliveries of bird food, but it was the third that grabbed their attention.
‘Dan, it’s Gus Winnings. The eggs are already at the California site and the birds are heading for Europe. I’ve issued the American import permits.’
The partners exchanged broad grins as Charlie pressed first the ‘Stop’ button and then the one marked ‘Eject’.
“My bet is Dan also failed to erase any earlier messages,” she suggested, slipping the cassette into her pocket.
As anticipated the police officer who attended was far from happy. Expecting some tense discussion Royle commenced by reminding the officer that he and Charlie were officially there as American federal agents, also explaining how they were working in conjunction with Australian customs. He made clear too that whatever the officer might be contemplating to the contrary, he and his partner were about to leave for first Sydney and then America.
The one question the pair were waiting for the officer to ask was the one they knew least how to answer, namely the identity of the person lying dead at their feet. Somewhere at the back of his mind Royle understood the embarrassment likely to follow revelations that an American federal agent – now wanted for murder back home – had entered Australia illegally, killed a police officer and then died at the hands of fellow US agents. He decided the only way forward was for them to deny all knowledge of the dead man, leaving that for the diplomats to sort out. Anyway, wasn’t it true that this place belonged to Carl Alynski, so why not assume that that was him lying there? Either him or the mysterious Sylvester Reed.
The Consequences of Finding Daniel Morgan Page 18
