I did not get a chance to check the webcam feed again until almost ten o’clock. Something had happened and it now was history. The cabin was not exactly in disarray but the removable floor panel was now sitting on the table and some cans of food and other items from the under-floor storage were now either stacked on the table or on the seats. There was nobody to be seen onboard although the entry hatch cover was fully open.
I rewound the recorded video until I noticed a body fill the entry hatch and then rewound it for another couple of minutes. When I started replaying the video the time and date stamp stated that it was 09.11 on Friday February 12th.
Peter and Margaret were still seated but were now reading the morning papers. No sooner had I started watching the scene that Margaret turned towards the security camera and said in a low voice. “Somebody has just stepped on board. We have a visitor.”
Peter added. “Make that two visitors.”
Moments later I could see the lower part of a man’s body through the entry hatch and heard a loud aggressive voice demanding. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing on board?”
It was D I John Hargreaves and he was in his usual bullying mood.
Margaret Smith was facing the entry and was the first to respond. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”
By now Hargreaves had walked down the steps into the cabin and was standing by the table at which Peter Williams and Margaret Smith were seated. I could see D S Strong standing in the cockpit and bending down to look into the cabin.
Without speaking Peter Williams reached up on to a ledge, withdrew a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Hargreaves. I assumed that it was the letter from me authorising them to be on board ‘Irish Mist’. My assumption was soon confirmed when Hargreaves grunted. “So you are friends of Cartwright?”
Peter replied, “No. Not really friends. More like friends of friends. But just who the heck are you? Are you friends of Cartwrights?”
I grinned. Hargreaves was being played. I think that Peter and Margaret were having a bit of fun with him. Later I found out that they had been told to make things difficult for Hargreaves but not to obstruct him. The more that he was distracted by unco-operative bystanders the less guarded he might be in what he did and said.
Hargreaves snorted angrily. “Friend? Not bloody likely.” He then flourished his police identity card. “I am Detective Inspector Hargreaves.” Gesturing towards his companion he added. “This is Detective Sergeant Strong. We are here to search this boat. We have a search warrant.”
As he spoke he extended the document towards Peter. However it was Margaret who reached out and accepted it. Unfolding it slowly she then silently perused it for a few moments before looking up at Hargreaves and offering the document back to him saying, “I regret to inform you Detective Inspector that you are on the wrong boat. This search warrant is made out for a yacht named “Scottish Mist’. The boat we are on is named ‘Irish Mist’.
Hargreaves snatched the warrant back, his face flushed an angry red. After a quick glance at the document he gave D S Strong a push to get moving and the two of them left without a further word being spoken. As soon as they had gone Peter stood and walked to stand on the steps to the cockpit and look out over the cabin roof towards the jetty. Moments later he said, “They are standing on the jetty with two other men. I guess that the others are local police officers. They are looking at the search warrant and arguing. I think that the locals are insisting that they leave, probably to check whether they can use the warrant or wait to have it corrected.”
Margaret commented with a deadpan expression. “Perhaps they might decide to check whether there is actually a yacht called ‘Scottish Mist’ somewhere in the marina.”
I laughed. I liked her dry humour.
Peter must have thought so too as he chuckled before saying. “Three of them are leaving. D S Strong is staying put on the jetty.”
***
It was around half an hour before Hargreaves returned. Once Peter and Margaret had settled back to reading their papers and waiting, I fast-forwarded the video to a point when I saw that someone else had entered the cabin. Reverting to playing the video at normal speed I confirmed that the newcomer was indeed D I Hargreaves. Without a word he handed a folded document to Margaret and stood waiting for her response.
She read it carefully and then said, “This looks to be in order….”
Hargreaves interrupted her abruptly. “Okay. I would now like to see some proof of identity from both of you.”
Margaret and Peter responded in unison by extracting their drivers licences from their wallets and handing them over. As Hargreaves studied them D S Strong who had just entered the cabin looked at the licences over his shoulder.
Clearly they were now keen to know who Peter and Margaret were. After almost a minute, including which he exchanged glances with D S Strong, Hargreaves asked, “So you both work in Brisbane?” When Peter and Margaret both nodded he continued. “And you are up here on holiday right?” Again when they both nodded he continued. “Well, much as I don’t want to disturb your holiday would you mind waiting on the jetty while D S Strong and I search the boat?”
Neither of them made any immediate move that looked like they were going to leave the cabin. So Hargreaves dropped any pretence of being polite and barked sharply. “Get moving. I don’t have all day.”
Margaret merely smiled and said, “I noticed that the search warrant does not permit forced entry. Also there is no reason why Peter and I shouldn’t wait in the cockpit while you search the cabin and vice versa.”
Hargreaves glared at her with his eyes in slits. I knew, as did Margaret and Peter, that she had probably alerted Hargreaves to the fact that she was a lawyer. It was not widely known that in Queensland a search warrant does not automatically permit forced entry by the police. If the warrant does not mention forced entry then it is not permitted. I don’t know if his imagination was taking the extra step of wondering who she might be employed by. But, whether he did or not, he decided that enough was enough and that he needed to get going with the discovery of the two packages. Eventually he merely stepped aside to allow Peter and Margaret to leave the cabin and grunted, “Okay. You can wait in the cockpit.”
A few moments later when he and Strong had the cabin to themselves Hargreaves, apparently addressing D S Strong, but speaking loudly enough to be heard from the cockpit said, “Now, the anonymous tipoff said that there were two paper-wrapped parcels stowed in an under-floor locker in the main cabin. That should not be too hard to find.”
It wasn’t. In fact, as Hargreaves already knew, he was standing on the removable floor panel as he had spoken. During the next minute or so the two of them played an elaborate charade of discovering the removable panel, lifting it up and placing it on the table. In complete silence D S Strong, kneeling on the cabin floor, commenced removing the dinghy anchor, tools, and canned food and passing them to Hargreaves for him to place on the table. At first Strong was quite casual in his attitude but after a few items had been removed he started to scrabble amongst the tins of canned food in an increasingly panicky manner and discarding items on the cabin floor behind him. Finally he stared up at Hargreaves and gasped, “They’re not here. They are gone.”
Hargreaves was equally panic-stricken. Pushing Strong aside he also dropped to his knees and commenced moving the few remaining items around in the storage area to peer under them as though by some miracle the packages had eluded their gaze earlier. Eventually they both realised that they had to accept that the packages were no longer there.
The two policemen then turned towards the cockpit where Peter and Margaret were looking back into the cabin watching them with interest. Margaret was the first to speak. With wide-eyed innocence she asked, “Is there a problem, officer?”
I could not see their faces but I could guess that Hargreaves and Strong were mortified and confused. Their thoughts must have been in turmoil, asking themselves what had gone wron
g and wondering who was responsible. The sight of the two witnesses to their rather embarrassing failure must have been particularly galling. But it wasn’t just embarrassment that concerned them. That was the least of their worries. It would be clear to them that someone had removed the packages and now knew their contents. If those persons also knew that Hargreaves and Strong had placed the packages on ‘Irish Mist’ then the writing was on the wall for them.
The response by Hargreaves to Margaret’s query was completely in character. “None of your bloody business.” He rasped as he pushed his way through the cockpit to make his way to the jetty. D S Strong followed close behind him.
***
Friday March 11
Red Rock Project Site
It was four weeks before I got an update from Toni Swan as to the status of the Crime and Corruption Commission’s investigations into the activities of Detective Inspector Hargreaves et al.
The understanding had been that she would keep me informed if something significant occurred that affected me, or challenged statements that I had provided. I was happy to let sleeping dogs lie as I had plenty on my plate to deal with the commissioning process now a twenty four hour day, seven day week operation. We had just commenced the thirty day post-commissioning trial operation of the complete plant. The operators had to achieve a number of production targets during the next thirty days or the mine owners would delay acceptance until the target were met.
The Project Manager, Tom Barton, had been visiting the project site several times a week for the past month mostly engaged either sitting in on project meetings or writing emails. When he was on site he used a spare desk in my office on which he placed a small sign stating, ‘Tom Barton, Project Manager’.
When he had first displayed the sign on the desk it did irk me, but only momentarily. Upon reflection I soon realised that if it was petty for him to display a sign like that then it would be just as petty for me to be concerned about it. But Tom Barton’s desk-top sign must have caught the eye of at least one visitor to the construction office, as one day a sign had been placed on my desk proclaiming, ‘Adam Cartwright, Construction Manager’ in slightly larger letter size than Tom Barton’s sign. I had laughed when I first saw the Construction Manager sign but I did not remove it as that would have sent an even more distorted message to Barton. I didn’t apologise for it either. I didn’t know if Barton was in any way offended by the sudden appearance of my desk top sign as he never made any comment about it. But from that point on I ensured that Tom Barton was included in all significant site meetings and tried to keep him fully informed. We were never going to be buddies but we had eventually achieved a reasonable working relationship.
When I received the Skype call from Toni Swan, Tom Barton was sitting at his desk busy on his computer. Toni Swan was calling from a conference room. Alongside her were Peter Williams and Margaret Smith so I assumed that it was important. Holding up a hand towards the camera indicating both to wait and not speak, I looked towards Tom Barton and said, “Tom, I have to take this highly confidential conference call. I have three people waiting on the line. I need privacy. Could you find something to do elsewhere for the next thirty minutes or so?”
He stared at me for a moment before closing his laptop, standing and saying rather ungraciously. “You know that this is a bit rich kicking me out just for you to take a private call.”
I gave him a what-can-I-say shrug but did not respond.
As soon as the door was closed, I looked at the camera and exchanged brief greetings with the three investigators. As usual Toni Swan quickly got down to business. “Adam, we wanted to bring you up to speed and get your agreement to appear as a witness at the Commission’s Coercive Hearing in Brisbane on Monday May 2nd. It is an investigative hearing and is not open to the public. Its proceedings cannot be reported in the Media.”
I thought back to the project schedule. If all went well with the current production trials then the processing plant and all contracted facilities will be handed over to the mine owners by mid April. A formal Opening of the Red Rock Gold Mine was currently scheduled for Friday April 22nd. I would then spend the following week in Brisbane at the head office of Gibson Construction tying up any project loose ends until my contract as Construction Manager expired on Saturday April 30th.
I had already told Ewan Ryan that I did not intend to seek further construction management roles with Gibsons so I would be a free agent on Monday May 2nd. All things being equal the date would suit me fine so I said, “Yes. Monday May 2nd should be fine. Just let me know where, when and what to bring.”
She smiled. “Great. Actually we spoke to Ewan Ryan regarding that other matter recently and took the opportunity to ask him about your likely work load. He suggested that anytime from Monday May 2nd onwards should probably suit you.”
I grinned. I should have guessed that the date of the Hearing had not been randomly selected. Wishing to get her back to her stated intention to bring me up to speed I asked, “So, are you able to bring me up to speed with the follow-up to the packages planted on my yacht?”
Toni Swan nodded. “Yes. That is the other reason for this call. It goes without saying that all of this conversation is highly confidential. First, the Commission has taken over the investigation of the Mount Godwin Gold Mine robbery and killings. I’ll let Peter walk you through the high points.”
Peter grinned and said, “Just over five hundred gold doré bars were stolen. Each is around a kilogram in weight and is estimated to assay about ninety percent gold and ten percent silver. Approximate value of each bar is around $25,000. The two bars found on your boat are definitely from those stolen from Mount Godwin. The three men were killed by nitrogen gas which was released into the lunchroom through a hole in the wall drilled from an adjacent storeroom.”
When he paused I asked, “Where did the nitrogen gas come from?”
Peter replied, “We have not proved it yet but the finger points at bottles of nitrogen gas stocked on site to inflate the tyres of the large mining trucks. There is little effort made to record and safeguard the bottles of nitrogen after they are issued by the store. They are just left standing in a corner of the repair workshops.”
The idea of three men sitting down having their lunch, perhaps playing cards, and not realising that they were being gassed did not seem credible. “Is nitrogen gas so deadly that people will succumb without realising that they are in danger?”
Margaret Smith replied before Peter had a chance to marshal his thoughts and frame his response. “The scientists tell us that nitrogen is not a poison in the traditional sense. But it presents a deadly hazard when it displaces oxygen, making the atmosphere hazardous to humans. Breathing an oxygen deficient atmosphere can have serious and immediate effects, including unconsciousness after only one or two breaths. The exposed person has no warning and cannot sense that the oxygen level is too low. In approximate terms, nitrogen is around eighty percent of air and oxygen around twenty percent. The human body is adversely affected by lower concentrations of oxygen. If the oxygen concentration falls by just four percent, to below sixteen percent, the victim will fall unconscious without warning and will need to be resuscitated if they are to survive.”
I was thinking through the various stages of the robbery. It had to be an inside job, so I asked, “Are Hawsall and Foster still suspects?”
Toni Swan responded, “Hawsall was off duty on the day of the robbery. The gatekeeper logged him out from the mine site two days earlier and he was home in his flat in Townsville. We have credit card receipts for purchases that he made in Townsville on the day of the robbery. Foster was on duty at the mine but was not seen in the vicinity of the gold room on the day of the robbery.”
There was something not quite right. Those two had to be involved somehow. “What does Foster do? What’s his job?”
“He’s a boundary rider. He regularly checks the boundary fences and gates as well as relocating the tailings pipelines as and when necess
ary. He gets around the site on a quad bike. Look we are confident that those two are involved but we have yet to prove it. They are not in the clear.”
“How was the gold removed from the mine site?”
Peter Williams responded quickly. “By plane. A vehicle, a 4WD Land Cruiser, usually driven by the now-dead Gold Room Supervisor was found parked by the airstrip with the keys in the ignition. We assume that it was used to transport the stolen gold to the airstrip. So far we have not identified any unscheduled flights to or from the airstrip. There were eleven flights recorded that day due to the exodus of the construction workers. That’s nine more than on a normal work day. It seems that a plane carrying the gold managed to be inconspicuous in the crowd.”
“How was the robbery discovered?”
“A phone call was made to the Townsville Police Station from the Gold Room. The only message received was a code word requesting help as a robbery was in progress. It was immediately passed on to the CIB in accordance with the standard operating procedures and D S Strong was despatched by plane to the mine site. When he arrived at the Gold Room, operating staff were outside the building waiting for his arrival. The door to the Gold Room was then broken open as the lock had been jammed. The three men were found dead and the safe had been emptied. D S Strong immediately had the crime scene secured and searched.”
“Who was with D S Strong when the Gold Room was searched?”
Peter Williams checked his notes before replying. “D C Mortlock.”
Deciding to change the subject I asked, “What did D I Hargreaves and D S Strong have to say about the packages planted on my yacht?”
Smoking Gun (Adam Cartwright Trilogy Book 1) Page 28
