Smoking Gun (Adam Cartwright Trilogy Book 1)

by Dennis Debney

  When I was finished they both sat looking at me in silence for a moment before my father said, “But you’ve now been vindicated. Right?”

  “Probably. But I’ve demonstrated to Gibson Construction that I’m a loose cannon who can’t be relied on to carry out orders. They will think carefully before offering me another position as Construction Manager.”

  My mother leaned forward. “Is that want you want? Construction Manager on another project?”

  “Actually no. This could be the last time I work as a Construction Manager. I am thinking about a job as a business analyst or even working with Brian Clements developing computer software. Preferably in Sydney. I have decided that I don’t want to be constantly on the move from project to project for the rest of my career.”

  My mother beamed with pleasure. “So you are finally thinking about settling down. At last.” Before I could protest that she had overstated my intentions she added. “By the way, Brian and Kate called in this morning. Brian first introduced Kate to us a while ago. She is such a lovely person.”

  I nodded. “I agree.”

  My mother sensed that she had my attention and continued. “Kate’s sister…”

  She hesitated and I fell into her trap and displayed an interest in the topic of the conversation. Without thinking I supplied the missing name. The name that she had pretended to stumble over. “Christine?”

  She beamed at the success of her ploy. “Yes, Christine, she’s such a lovely girl too. You haven’t met her yet have you?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  My father was grinning and shaking his head in mock sorrow at my falling into the obvious trap. But I didn’t mind. To tell the truth I was looking forward to meeting Christine.

  ***

  It was around three o’clock when I set off to walk the three blocks to Brian’s parents’ home. I needed the exercise and it was a route that I had walked and cycled literally a thousand times in the past. As I arrived at the front door Brian’s mother, who must have seen me walking up the path, called out for me to come in. Pausing to greet his parents and wish them a merry Christmas I walked through to the outside deck expecting to see Brian and Kate.

  I did see them. They were seated at a table engaged in an animated discussion. But they were not on their own. Standing with her back towards me was a tall young woman with long reddish coloured hair. As I stepped on to the deck she turned and instantly smiled when she saw me. She was a remarkably attractive and graceful looking young woman. I was instantly smitten. I smiled and said, “Hello Christine.”

  Her response was equally deadpan. She spoke as though we were old acquaintances who had just bumped into each other. “Hello Adam.”

  Brian stood up and said, “Hey, wait a minute. You need to be properly introduced.” Waving a hand towards Christine and then sweeping it back towards me, he said, “Christine, I would like you to meet my best friend, Adam Cartwright.”

  I smiled, bowed my head, clicked my heels and said, “This is indeed a great honour and a pleasure, Doctor Moore.”

  Brian then reversed his gestures and said, “Adam, I’d like you to meet my future sister-in-law, Christine Moore.”

  She smiled mischievously, gave me a gracious curtsy and responded, “Mister Cartwright, the pleasure is all mine.”

  Kate was sitting back in her seat watching us both and looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  ***

  Later when the four of us were seated around the table I asked Christine about her time at the Royal London Hospital where she had just completed a two-year internship.

  I already knew that Kate and Christine had moved to Wellington the same year the Brian and I left for university in Sydney. Their father had just been appointed Principal of our old high school, a position that he still held. Kate had told me much of their background but I was interested to hear more.

  Christine appeared to realise that my question was more than just idle chat and responded as though she welcomed the opportunity to tell me about herself. “The Royal London is an internationally renowned teaching hospital and I was very lucky to get accepted there. It’s on Whitechapel Road with good public transport access which was just as well as I worked long hours. The Royal is one of the largest children's hospitals in the UK and London's busiest paediatric Accident and Emergency Department. I learned a lot but I never intended to stay there permanently and now was an especially good time to come home.” She paused, smiled at me and explained, “Kate’s wedding. Meeting you at last.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Meeting me?”

  Christine laughed. “Of course, meeting you. I knew that I had to meet you soon or Kate would have scared you off with her attempts at matchmaking.”

  I knew that she was teasing me so I said one word in response. “Oombarlo!”

  Instantly we all burst out laughing.

  When the laughter subsided Christine said, “Well, what about you? I know that you are an engineer on a construction site in the middle of nowhere. And that you live on a yacht in a marina on your days off. I have seen the YouTube clip and watched your webcam feeds. I know that you have been best friends with Brian almost since birth. Brian and Kate have spoken of you often, but I still don’t really know you.”

  I smiled and shrugged. “Well there’s not much more to know. I don’t need to be surrounded by museums, art galleries and opera houses in a big city to be content. I am an engineer and I build things.”

  It was as though we had known each other forever. We had immediately slipped into a comfortable, teasing relationship.

  Christine smiled archly and responded, “So you admit to being just another insensitive engineer with little appreciation of art and social events without any useful purpose. Your focus is on practicality with little value, if any, placed on culture.”

  I grinned. “I admit it. I do value practicality over aesthetics or other subjective requirements that reduce functionality.”

  “Give me an example.” She challenged.

  I replied, “Well. Just look at ballet dancers. They are all short guys that have to stand on their toes when performing.”

  She grinned. I was sure that she knew where this was going but she asked anyway. “So?”

  I replied, “So. Why do they have short guys standing on their toes. Why don’t they just get taller dancers.”

  Christine laughed, obviously enjoying the repartee. “So practicality should be the top priority?”

  “Well let me give you another example. One day a clergyman, a lawyer, a doctor and an engineer were playing a round of golf together when they were delayed by a foursome playing ahead of them. The group in front were stumbling around and taking an inordinate time to complete each hole. At that moment they met up with the green keeper who was busy doing some course maintenance work. When asked who the foursome ahead were the green keeper said that they were four fire fighters who had been badly burned and blinded when valiantly saving the golf clubhouse from a fire the previous year. In appreciation of their sacrifice the Golf Club had decided to allow the four blinded fire fighters to play a round of golf at any time for free. When hearing of the fire fighter’s misfortune the clergyman said, ‘That’s so sad. I will say some prayers for them.’ The lawyer said, ‘I’ll sue someone on their behalf.’ The doctor said, ‘Perhaps something can be done to restore their sight. I will do some medical research.’ The engineer was the only one to immediately realise the logical course of action and said, ‘If I could make a suggestion. Why don’t they just play at night?’”

  The three of them laughed spontaneously. But Christine was not about to accept defeat. “So you do concede that engineers are an insensitive lot?”

  I laughed. “You shouldn’t write all engineers off as insensitive barbarians whose only interaction with nature is the physical world. We can appreciate the abstract world also. Ah! The roar of the bulldozer, the sizzle of the welding rod, the smell of newly poured concrete. To you, these mean nothing but an assaul
t on your senses. But to an engineer they are evocative of so much more. The roar of the bulldozer is man’s roar of conquest, the overcoming of obstacles and the moving of mountains to better serve mankind. The sizzle of the welding rod is like music to an engineer’s ears. It is a celebration of our ability to turn passive pieces of steel into a useful structure. The sizzle of the welding rod is the sound of progress. The achievement of a benefit to the community at large. The smell of newly poured concrete is akin to the smell of roses to a non-engineer. To an engineer it is demonstrating that we can learn from nature. We can also meld sand, clay and volcanic debris into rock. Only where nature took millions of years to do so we can do the same in a few hours. We are demonstrating that the student has exceeded the teacher in moulding of raw materials into an asset useful to humanity.”

  Christine and I sat staring at each other in silence for a few moments before she smiled and said, “You are evading the question by being flippant. But you are playing me. Admit it. You are masking a genuine belief by overstating it in a joke. Aren’t you?”

  Brian roared with laughter. “She’s on to you, Adam. You are going to have to lift your game.”

  Kate joined in. “Christine, in the short time that I have known Adam I have come to realise that he does that a lot.”

  I chuckled and responded, “But Kate, you have to admit that it is part of my charm.”

  Brian was clearly enjoying the situation immensely and laughed. “You’re doing it again. Evading a question with a joke. Go on. Answer the question.”

  I glanced at Christine. She was smiling broadly, so I said. “Okay. Yes, you are right. My comments were based on genuinely held beliefs.” I then grinned and added, “Look, when you drive up the M4 to Newcastle and you go through the deep sandstone cuttings, do you feel anything? Are you impressed in any way?”

  She thought for a moment. “Yes. I do feel something even though I have never really thought about it before. Yes. I am impressed. There is something quite majestic about the perfectly aligned cuttings piercing through the hills.”

  It was now my turn to ponder for a few moments before speaking. “Yes, majestic is a good description. But I have an even stronger feeling when I drive along the F4 Expressway. I see the broad smooth roadway stretching into the distance through a succession of deep cuttings as an example of man’s ability to overcome obstacles. We decided that we wanted to go from here to that distant destination and didn’t want to compromise by taking the easy route by winding around the hills and along the valleys. It went straight there. Regardless of the natural obstacles. I see the F4 as an example of mankind’s arrogance and ability to tame nature. I am inspired by it.”

  An amiable silence descended on the four of us. No one seemed to be prepared to say something that would end the moment. Eventually I realized that Christine and I were staring at each other as though mesmerised. At the same moment we both remembered that we were not alone and simultaneously glanced at Brian and Kate. They had been watching Christine and me with amused looks. As soon as we looked at them, they burst into laughter.

  ***

  Friday January 1

  En route to Sydney, NSW

  It was New Years Day, seven days after I met her, when I drove back to Sydney accompanied by Christine. We were going to spend a night in Sydney and then fly up to Cairns. One night there followed by a night at the mine site and then back to Cairns for Christine to catch a flight to Sydney on Monday evening.

  The past week had been one of the most uplifting that I had ever experienced. Brian and Kate’s wedding had gone off without a hitch. I hadn’t forgotten my lines during my best man’s speech and the weather had been perfect. A blue sky and warm without being uncomfortably hot.

  As I had stood waving and watching the newly married couple drive off, I had been unselfconsciously holding Christine’s hand. When I glanced at her she smiled enigmatically and softly squeezed my hand. I smiled and returned the squeeze. It had been barely four days since we had met and already it seemed like we had known each other for years. But then it was not as though we were totally unknown to each other when we had first met.

  The whole of the past seven days had been memorable and busy. I had eaten meals and spent time with each of my sisters’ families. Both Sue and Helen had invited Christine also and she had been happy to accompany me. Christine fitted in well and was a hit with everyone. On both occasions, as we were leaving, both Sue and Helen whispered something to the effect that I should not let this one get away. She visited my home several times and got on equally well with my parents.

  The two of us also spent time wandering around town and reminiscing about our times as teenagers there. I had also met Christine’s parents and had dinner with them. I liked them and they seemed to have no objection to me courting their younger daughter.

  Wellington is not a big town, it only has a population of around 4,500. But it has a daily high speed train connection and is a nice place to live. However, it does not provide the career prospects and life style choices that could be found in Sydney, three hundred and fifty kilometres to the east. There was no question that I would ever consider returning to live permanently. Neither would Brian, Kate or Christine.

  Maybe it was because we had all been brought up in stable homes with harmonious family relationships that all four of us, Brian, Kate, Christine and me, had an old-fashioned respect for marriage. We didn’t have to discuss it. We just knew that we were on the same page.

  Christine and I had talked for most of the five hour trip back to North Sydney. The topics of conversation were wide ranging. We got to know a lot about each other without uncovering any hint of potential discord.

  ***

  At a point about halfway to Sydney I realised that we had been driving in silence for several minutes. Glancing sideways at Christine I sensed that something was on her mind. It was as though she was struggling to find the right words to say something so I said, “What is it? Is there something that you want to ask me?”

  Christine stared at me for a few moments before turning to look straight ahead and responded, “Yes, I think that there is. Kate suggested that if you don’t tell me about a certain incident on your yacht then I might ask you. I don’t know what she was referring to but she did say that it wasn’t in any way to your detriment. Quite the opposite.” She then turned to face me and asked, “Do you know what she was talking about?”

  I glanced at her and said, “Yes. I do. I have been wondering about how to tell you about the incident. It happened almost three months ago and it is so unbelievable that at times I almost doubt that it even happened.” As I had been speaking I had my eyes fixed on the road ahead. Now I glanced sideways and saw that she was still staring at me with a puzzled expression. Looking back at the road I said, “Okay. I’ll tell you. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want to upset you. This last week has been the best seven days of my life. What I am going to tell you will…”

  As I hesitated, momentarily groping for the right words to use, she placed a hand on my arm and said, “You don’t have to tell me. This last seven days has been special to me too.” She then paused and gave my arm a gentle squeeze before continuing. “But you know that already.”

  ***

  But I did have to tell her. If there was any ongoing threat to me then she might get involved just by being with me. It took almost fifty kilometres of the Hume Highway for me to relate the full story. I was looking straight ahead at the road the whole time as I spoke. I told her everything. Being thrown overboard and swimming for hours not knowing if I’d make it or not. Not reporting it to the police and why I didn’t. How I now assessed everyone at Red Rock in terms of what risk they might pose for me.

  Her hand was resting on my arm and I sensed that she was looking at me as I drove and talked. When I finished it was a few moments before she asked, “Who else knows about this?”

  “Well, Brian and Kate were the first people that I told. Then I reported it to the Queensland C
rime and Corruption Commission a couple of weeks later. They may have passed it on to the police by now but I have had no feedback. I have told no one else. The only other people who know are the assailants, and their accomplices if there are any.”

  Her hand trembled on my arm. “Oh Adam. This must be a nightmare for you.”

  Her voice was full of concern and when I glanced at her she was visibly upset. Looking back at the road I saw that we were entering the city of Bathurst and the golden arches of McDonalds and a McCafe were visible in the distance. Without responding to her comment I drove on in silence until I turned in at the McDonalds sign and parked. “Let’s have a coffee.”

  When I opened the car door for her she alighted from the vehicle and immediately gave me a hug, briefly resting her head on my shoulder. We then walked inside in silence.

  As we were seated waiting for our cappuccinos to arrive I reached forward, cupped her hands in mine and said, “I’m so sorry to upset you. That’s why I delayed telling you.”

  Christine shook her head. “No, don’t apologise, I’m glad that you told me. But I’ve been wondering. I understand why you didn’t go to the police, but why did you go to the Commission for Crime and Corruption?”

  “I met with the Commission about some fraudulent activity associated with some of our contracts. They had established that the Comancheros bikie gang is connected to the Construction Workers Union and involved in criminal fraud on a large scale. The Commission had heard that the Comancheros regarded me as a person of interest and warned me that the bikie gang might seek to harm me.” I shrugged. “It seemed to be the right time for me to tell the Commission of the attempt on my life.”

  “But, it wasn’t?”

  “Apparently not. The Commission has all but ruled the Comancheros out as suspects.”

  “What if it was just a case of mistaken identity?”

  “I thought about that. It would probably mean that I wasn’t actually still in danger. But I wouldn’t know that. I could be looking over my shoulder for years, perhaps forever, not knowing for sure if I am in the clear or not. Not a pleasant prospect.”