Smoking Gun (Adam Cartwright Trilogy Book 1)

by Dennis Debney

  I responded immediately. “No problem. Please keep them. I should have explained earlier, they are not returnable. They have been charged to me.”

  “But…”

  “Sorry, no buts. I insist. I want you to keep them. Perhaps they will be a souvenir to remind you of your visit here.”

  She hesitated and said, “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Then she smiled brightly and added. “As if I’ll need a reminder.”

  ***

  I had just completed emailing my report of the hit-and-run to Toni Swan when there was a knock on my door and Christine entered carrying her overnight bag. She was wearing the khaki denim shirt and trousers with the shirt unbuttoned, the bottom flaps tied loosely in the front and the collar upturned. Underneath the denim shirt was a red tee shirt topped off with a white neckerchief elegantly tied at the side. She had replaced the jogging shoes that she had been wearing earlier with black ankle-length boots.

  She looked absolutely stunning.

  It was soon clear that it was not only me that was impressed by her beauty and elegance. As we walked across to my vehicle to drive to the airstrip everyone that we passed stopped and stared after us.

  ***

  Standing together at the Cairns Airport the wait for her flight to Sydney was all too short. No sooner had she checked in than her flight was called.

  As I leaned across to kiss her on the cheek she turned away. Before I could react she said, “Adam Cartwright, you are not getting off that easily.” Then moving close against me she put her arms around me, placed her lips on mine and kissed me passionately.

  I did not object. In fact I responded instantly and whole-heartedly.

  ***

  Monday January 11

  Red Rock Project Site

  It came as a surprise when I received a phone call from Toni Swan. I had all but forgotten the email that I had sent to the Commission a week earlier. Almost all project activity had ceased from Christmas Day until the New Year. The immediate focus was on project activities on the critical path. Last week most of those had resumed, today saw the remainder of those critical activities back on line. Next week would see all activities, critical and non-critical, in hand and the workforce at full strength. Even though there had been less than the peak number of workers on site during the past week, every activity was on the critical path and got my full attention.

  After a brief exchange of season’s greetings and comments about rainy holidays she said, “Your email about the hit-and-run was received last week but I was on holiday and it wasn’t passed on to me. But, please bring me up to speed. How are you handling things?”

  “Well, there have been no further incidents. Even so, I no longer go jogging along the main road. I now confine myself to tracks and hills within the mine site.”

  “Just how secure is the site?”

  “There is only one significant road to the mine. It ends at the main gate, on the eastern boundary, where we have a gatekeeper who logs all the comings and goings. There is a security fence along the eastern boundary. The other three sides have cattle fences with gates that are normally padlocked. There is 4WD access to the cattle fences but they are checked from time to time for unlawful entry. All the security fencing is the responsibility of the mine owners.”

  “Have you thought of quitting the project? Leaving Queensland. It might be safer for you.”

  “No. Now that you ask. I realise that it’s never even crossed my mind.”

  “So, what do you think about it now?”

  I didn’t even hesitate. “No. Not a possibility. I will see this project through, come what may. I’m not going to run away. In any case, since I don’t know what has been the motivation for the two attacks, I may still be in danger and be even more vulnerable.”

  After a short silence she responded, “We thought that you might think like that. You are right when you say that you might still be in danger. We can’t even advise you in this matter.”

  “Has the Commission reported it to the police yet?”

  “Not the hit-and-run. I wanted to talk to you first. We passed your report of the first incident to the police before Christmas. We have just been told that it has been handed from the Cairns CIB to the Townsville CIB so you may receive some inquiries from them. We will pass your report of the hit-and-run to the police later today.”

  “Do you still believe that the attacks are not connected to the fraud conspiracy involving the Comancheros?”

  “Yes. Our inside man at the Comancheros has reported that there has been no gossip within the bikie gang about the hit-and-run. He claims that they are such a bunch of losers that the guys can’t help themselves. They will brag and talk themselves up at any excuse to the others, even to the extent of fabricating incidents to get attention. No, our guy says that there is little possibility that the Comancheros were involved.”

  “What about the Bandidos bikie gang? I have heard that they also have a regional branch in Mareeba.”

  “Unlikely. Their interests are drugs and drug-related organised crime. They have wide ranging contacts with the Mareeba mafia including a former local mayor. They seem to have left construction unions, fraud and blackmail to the Comancheros. Our informants in the Mareeba Bandidos have reported no mention of attempted drowning or hit-and-runs.”

  “So, what happens next?”

  “I can’t tell you much. When the incidents have been passed on to the police, what, if anything, happens next will be up to them.” Then she added ruefully, “Co-operation is not one of their strengths.”

  ***

  That evening I received a Skype video call from Christine. She had received confirmation that the job at the Royal North Shore Hospital was hers and she would start the following Monday. She was happy and I was really pleased for her and joked. “I hope that you drove a hard bargain.”

  She laughed and said, “I did. I told them that I would be taking a few days off in May to attend the official opening ceremony of a gold mine in Far North Queensland.” She paused and added. “That is, if I am still invited.”

  I grinned. “Invited? As I told you, if the scheduled date is not convenient for you then we will just delay the opening until it suits you.”

  Kate and Brian entered the room behind Christine and waved. Kate asked mischievously. “Adam, we haven’t spoken to you since we returned but Christine has kept us up to date. It seems that you two are in contact with each other quite a lot.”

  I grinned. “Well, I didn’t want to interrupt you and Brian while you are enjoying your wedded bliss. So Christine kindly offered to keep me up to date with everything.”

  Brian snorted. “As if! But on a more serious note, Christine told us about the hit-and-run. Have you heard anything from the Crime and Corruption Commission?”

  I responded, “I was just going to tell Christine. I got a call from the head investigator at the Commission.” I then proceeded to relate the conversation with Toni Swan.

  ***

  Wednesday January 13

  Red Rock Project Site

  Two days later, at about nine o’clock in the morning, I received a call from Detective Inspector John Hargreaves of the Townsville CIB.

  I had found him rude and arrogant when I had first met him at the Townsville airport on my arrival from Mount Godwin on the day of the robbery. His modus operandi was to bully and hassle anyone that he wanted to question in relation to a crime that he was trying to solve. His immediate focus on me when I had asked a question about the crime was totally unjustified, time-wasting and irritating.

  I had done my best to co-operate with him at the time but he certainly did not warm to me. The feeling was mutual, I regarded him as an intellectual lightweight and had doubted that he could ever solve a case if he couldn’t beat a confession out of someone. I didn’t hold out much hope of him solving the Mount Godwin Mine robbery and couldn’t help wondering about the abilities of the other police officers if he held such a senior rank.

  I was engaged in
an important discussion with a disgruntled sub-contractor, and one of my engineers, in my office when the phone rang. For an incoming call to be put through at that time it meant that the caller must have claimed that it was an urgent matter.

  The intervening months had not mellowed him. He did not give his name but his rough tone of voice immediately identified him to me. It was Detective Inspector John Hargreaves of the Townsville CIB. “Am I talking to Adam Cartwright?” He demanded as I answered the telephone call that had been relayed from the receptionist.

  Since I had just answered the call by saying, “Adam Cartwright speaking”, I thought that his question was rather superfluous. His tone of voice annoyed me so I responded, “I am very busy at the moment. Unless this is an emergency I am going to have to ask you to call back later. So, is this an emergency?”

  He did not reply so I said, “Okay since it is not an urgent matter would you mind calling back after an hour or so, if you still want to talk to me.”

  Again he did not respond so I terminated the call.

  ***

  An hour later he rang back.

  Without spending any time on the niceties he demanded angrily. “Who the hell do you think that you are? You can’t just hang up on me like that.”

  I was momentarily inclined to hang up on him for real this time but relented and said, “Who am I? Well, I’m someone who doesn’t have to accept every phone call received by me. For the record, I did not hang up. I terminated the call after giving you a warning that I was not able to take your call at that time. I had other people in my office and we were dealing with an urgent matter. Your call was not an emergency so it had a lower priority. Anyway we are talking now. So, what can I do for you?”

  His response was a string of epithets. When he paused for breath I said, “This is the one and only warning that I will give you. If you use foul or obscene language again, I will immediately hang up without warning.”

  He did not respond so I said, “Look, you may have time to waste like this but I don’t. So, if you won’t say something then I will terminate this call.”

  After a brief pause he finally spoke. “Okay wise guy, if you want me to investigate your fanciful claims of two attempts on your life then you had better co-operate or else.”

  I could think of no greater waste of time than having him in charge of any investigation, much less the attacks on me, and I was tempted to tell him so. But I decided to resist the temptation and responded in a moderate tone of voice. “Actually I have not requested that the police investigate the incidents that you are apparently referring to. In any case, you have already decided that the incidents are quote fanciful claims unquote. So how much investigating would you really do?”

  There was another prolonged pause. He was either shocked into silence or was just a very slow thinker. Finally he responded, “We should meet.”

  “Why should we? Why don’t we talk on the telephone now? What do you want to know?”

  After another hesitation he said, “These sort of conversations need to be face-to-face.”

  “I don’t see why. Just ask me what you want to know and I’ll answer it to the best of my ability.”

  “Okay. The police were passed your reports of the alleged incidents by the Crime and Corruption Commission. But we weren’t told why you had been in contact with them in the first place. It might have something to do with the alleged attacks on you. We need to know, otherwise I won’t be able to carry out a proper investigation.”

  “So, let me be clear, you are asking me to tell you what I talked to the Commission about?”

  When he didn’t reply I said, “Well, if the Commission wanted you to know then they would have told you. But I will tell them that you had been asking.”

  This time he responded quickly. “No, there is no need for that. I guess that they have made a need-to-know decision and they have decided that I don’t need to know.”

  I smiled. He sounded almost conciliatory. So I thought that I’d reciprocate. “Tell me what you have got from the Commission. Perhaps they haven’t sent you my complete reports on the incidents.”

  “Later. But first why didn’t you report the alleged incidents to the police in the first place?”

  “Because I didn’t think that I’d be believed. I don’t have any proof and I figured that I’d only be wasting my time and the resources of the police.”

  “That’s not your call. If you are genuine then you would want to tell the police.”

  “To what point. You have already judged my claims to be fanciful. In any case, I reported the incidents to the Commission and they saw fit to pass them on to the police. I didn’t ask for the police to be involved. Why don’t you just ask me a few questions and you can file a report discounting my allegations.”

  “I can’t do that without meeting with you. I want you to come down to Townsville and be interrogated.”

  I instantly bristled. “Interrogated!”

  “No, I mean interviewed.”

  His initial mix-up with interrogation and interview rang an alarm bell as to his intentions but I thought it best if I co-operated with caution and said, “If you want to interview me, why not come up here and meet me. This is where the crimes occurred not in Townsville.”

  “No. That won’t work. The Townsville CIB can’t work independently outside the Townsville region. It will save a lot of paperwork and time if you came down here.”

  It served no purpose for me to not co-operate so I said, “Okay. I’ll come down but it will have to be during the weekend. Saturday afternoon would work for me.”

  After a short hesitation Hargreaves said, “All right. Two o’clock at CIB headquarters in Townsville.”

  I thought for a moment trying to recall flight times between Cairns and Townsville. “What about midday. I need to get a flight down from Cairns and I’d have to wait around for a couple of hours to make a two o’clock appointment. If midday suits you then please email me confirmation of your request for me to travel to your office on Saturday. Include your contact details and directions to your headquarters. You already have my email address. It was included in my contact details in my incident reports.”

  After a slight hesitation he responded, “Okay. Midday, Saturday.”

  ***

  Saturday January 16

  Townsville, North Queensland

  I was fifteen minutes early for my midday appointment at the Townsville Police Station in Stanley Street. I had caught the ten forty five Qantas flight from Cairns after spending the night on ‘Irish Mist’. I was hoping to catch the four o’clock flight back to Cairns and return to the Red Rock mine site early on Sunday.

  Even though I was early for my appointment I did not have to wait long. No sooner had I given my name to the police officer manning the reception desk than I was escorted down a corridor to a room with the sign on its door proclaiming it to be ‘Interview Room One’.

  There was little furniture in the room. Just a largish table with three wooden chairs on each side. I seated myself in the centre chair facing a CCTV camera mounted on the wall, placed my briefcase on the table and prepared myself for a protracted wait. However, I did not have to wait for long at all. Detective Inspector John Hargreaves must have been keen to deal with me as quickly as possible as he arrived about a minute after me. He was not alone. Two equally sour looking individuals were accompanying him. They identified themselves as Detective Sergeant Strong and Detective Constable Mortlock. None of us offered to shake hands.

  I was seated on one side of the table facing the three of them. Hargreaves sat in the middle straight across the table from me. All three of them were surly and emanated antagonism. Seeing the sound recording device sitting in the middle of the table I thought that I’d establish the meeting protocols before we got started. Pointing at the recording device I said, “I assume that you are going to record this interview?”

  Hargreaves snorted angrily. “Of course we bloody are!”

  I sighed a
nd stood up. Picking up my briefcase I said, “Detective Inspector Hargreaves, I did explain to you on the telephone that I will not accept foul language especially when directed at me. I include the word ‘bloody’ in the list of unacceptable words. That being so, unless you immediately apologise, I will leave.”

  “You self-righteous bastard. I will speak however I want. You can’t just leave. I’ll… I’ll arrest you.”

  I smiled condescendingly. “On what charge? Refusal to be subjected to abusive language by a public servant who has lost all perspective of what his job actually is? Since you show no sign of apologising I will leave.”

  Hargreaves wasn’t going to back down without at least one more threat. “Don’t you worry about the charge. I’ll arrest you if you walk out that door.”

  “You do realise how pointless that would be. If you arrest me I will refuse to say a word. Eventually you will have to let me go and I will sue you personally for abuse of powers, verbal assault and threats of violence. It would be much better for you to behave like a civilised human being and try to have a conversation that doesn’t rely on foul language.”

  By then he had started to reassess his position and cool down. Trying a new tack he said in a placatory tone of voice. “For Pete’s sake. All we want to do is talk with you about your claims of having been assaulted.”

  “Okay, I’ll accept that as an apology, just this once. So back to my question, you confirmed that this interview would be recorded. In response I want to tell you that I will be recording the interview as well.”

  D I Hargreaves shouted angrily. “You can’t! It’s not police policy.”

  “Sorry, but unless you can show me a published Police Regulation to that effect then I insist on being able to record our discussions.”