Death Beyond the Limit: Fiji Islands Mysteries 3

by B. M. Allsopp

  ‘Surely the fish is deep-frozen?’ Horseman asked.

  ‘Most is. But this load was chilled tuna for the Tokyo sashimi market, you know. Top prices. The agent will lodge all the forms electronically in a day or two. With so many foreign fishing vessels in recent years, there may not be anybody onboard who speaks English.’

  ‘Am I correct in concluding that the Port doesn’t know who was on board when Joy-13 docked?’

  ‘Well, you are correct, technically. But all those details must be fixed up before she leaves again. We’re very strict about that.’ He nodded his reassurance.

  ‘Vinaka, Mr Naulu. Your explanation has been very enlightening.’

  ‘My pleasure, Inspector. Any further help I can give you, please get in touch. Here’s my card.’

  They said goodbye and Horseman followed Singh’s bobbing ponytail down the narrow spiral stairs. Once outside, he threw up his hands.

  ‘Hell’s bells, Susie, what’s the country coming to?’

  ‘Sounds strange to me, too.’

  ‘Something’s definitely fishy here.’ He couldn’t resist the pun but Singh showed no sign of having heard it. Was she trying to tell him something?

  At the wharf gates, a spicy aroma cut through the hot diesel fumes. The roti seller called out to them.

  ‘I could murder a roti or two. Hungry, Singh?’

  Horseman chose his usual pumpkin and pea combination while Singh settled for eggplant and tomato.

  Across the road from King’s Wharf, a stately two-storey colonial building put the encroaching steel sheds to shame. Turned timber posts supported a curved awning that provided shade for passers-by and balance to the flagship store of the old Steamships Trading Company.

  Horseman lifted his chin. ‘There’s our destination, Singh. I don’t know how our properly constituted authorities came to hand over their operations to a private shipping agent, but that seems to be what’s happened. Oi lei! Tuna Traders of Formosa! This Mr Shaddock better be good.’

  24

  Toby Shaddock looked Fijian except for his light eyes, more amber than brown, and his thin, straight nose.

  ‘I heard my father mention the name Shaddock sometimes when I was a kid, but I can’t remember the connection,’ Horseman remarked as they shook hands.

  Shaddock smiled, courteous but cool. ‘There’s bound to be at least one, after a hundred and fifty years. I’ll ask my parents.’

  ‘Let me come straight to the point, Mr Shaddock. I’m enquiring about a fishing observer on a vessel you manage, if that’s the right word. His friend reported him missing when he failed to contact her after the ship docked last Friday.’

  ‘Understood. How can I help?’ Toby Shaddock clasped his hands on the old mahogany desk. They were smooth and manicured hands. He looked more like a prosperous banker than someone in the fishing sector.

  ‘You can help by giving me some details of the observer’s voyage. But first, I hope you can dispel my confusion about what a port agent actually does. Is it the same as a shipping agent—that’s the term I’m familiar with?’

  ‘Yes, essentially. A port agent acts for ships, so the functions are specialised to ship’s needs.’

  ‘I see. This morning I went to two sections in our own Fisheries Department, then the Port of Suva Authority. I wanted to know if the observer in question was on board the vessel when it berthed in Suva and whether he disembarked. I thought someone would be able to look up a file and tell me that. Yet they all say the port agent is the man with the answers.’

  Shaddock smiled again. ‘I can understand your frustration, Inspector Horseman. Welcome to the brave new world of global fishing enterprise. Exponential growth, just like population growth.’ He unclasped his hands and spread them wide.

  ‘Modern Pacific fleets need access to the EEZs or exclusive economic zones, of many island states like Fiji. For some tiny countries like Niue, licensing foreign fishing vessels is their only income. The owners of tuna longliners aren’t skilled enough to comply with the regulations of different states. They need to be out at sea, hauling in tuna. When they come to port, they want to offload their catch, sell it, take on supplies, get repairs done and get out again quick, knowing everything is legal. A good port agent makes all that happen for them.’

  ‘That makes sense. You don’t talk in acronyms like some I met this morning.’

  ‘I can if you like. But mostly I leave that to the public servants.’

  ‘Touché. I admit the police suffer from creeping acronyms as much as anyone. I can see you provide an essential service to the fishing vessels. But what about the government authorities? How come they rely on you, too? An assistant harbourmaster just told me he’s waiting on your agency to supply port entry forms for the longliner in question, including what I need, the list of people on board.’

  ‘Ah, well, it’s the same advantage for the authorities as for the fishing companies. Does Fiji’s Fisheries Department have the capacity to attend to enquiries about license applications from hundreds of foreign vessel owners who can’t speak English, don’t understand the system, can’t fill in the forms? Can Fisheries staff help them correct their mistakes? Can they do all this quickly so Fiji doesn’t miss out on badly needed revenue?’

  ‘Hmm, I suppose it could be a problem for them.’

  ‘You’re not wrong! We ensure the information about the vessels is accurate, we fill in the application, check all I’s dotted and T’s crossed, submit it in whatever format Fisheries prefer, pay the fees. We’re Fisheries’ best friend.’

  ‘I can see you must make their life easier.’ Horseman feared the Pacific island countries’ preference for an easy life could well be their undoing.

  Shaddock leaned forward. ‘We make life possible, Inspector. We make the difference between coping and not coping, between capitalising on their EEZ or surrendering to the pirates because no one can stop them.’

  ‘Thanks for clearing all that up, Mr Shaddock,’ Horseman said.

  Singh was taking notes. Time to get back to Jimmy Inia. He nodded for her to take over.

  Singh flashed a winning smile at Shaddock. ‘What we need is evidence that the observer Semesi Inia, aka Jimmy, was on board Joy-13 when the vessel berthed in Suva last Friday, and that he disembarked.’

  The port agent returned her smile. ‘I want to help, but I’m not sure I can release that information. Until the documents are filed with the port authority, they’re private. Commercial-in-confidence status.’

  ‘I can’t see any commercial secret connected with the presence of a fishing observer who joined the vessel in Majuro and expected to leave in Suva,’ Singh’s tone was pleasant.

  Shaddock lifted his eyebrows. ‘I guess you’re correct, Sergeant Singh. However, my client is sensitive about all his ship’s records. It’s a cut-throat world, you know.’

  ‘Cut-throat? Really?’

  ‘Just a manner of speaking. Let’s say intensely competitive.’

  ‘When will you send the records to POSA? After all, they should have been handed over and checked before Joy-13 berthed,’ Horseman asked.

  ‘Should be tomorrow. We were flat out servicing vessels all weekend. You’ll know how impossible it is to get anything done on a Sunday here. I’m afraid the compliance forms take a back seat to preparations to return to sea without delay.’

  ‘I prefer to use your agency rather than visit the ship ourselves, Mr Shaddock.’

  ‘Good choice, Inspector. The captain speaks hardly any English.’

  ‘The police have interpreters, that’s not a problem. But I expect he will say, like so many other people I’ve spoken to today, that it’s Tuna Traders of Formosa that have all the information. By the way, how come your company is the agent for a Chinese ship? Isn’t communist China the enemy of Taiwan?’

  Shaddock smiled a condescending smile. ‘This is trade, Inspector. We prefer to be known as TTF these days. Our origins in Taiwan are almost irrelevant now. We’re global, we provide the best
service and Chinese fishing companies appreciate that. To honour our client’s trust, I’m afraid you’ll need a warrant for me to provide the information you seek.’

  The only way was to bluff it out, which he suspected was what Shaddock himself was doing. He kept calm, but it wasn’t easy.

  ‘Mr Shaddock, I am empowered to investigate the disappearance of a Fiji citizen who was on board the Joy-13 at the direction of the Fiji Fisheries Department. The captain of the Joy-13 is responsible for Semisi Inia while he was on board the vessel. I am not asking for permission to search your premises, or to search the Joy-13, for which I would certainly need a warrant. I am simply asking you for information that you must have access to. Unless that is, the Joy-13 entered Suva illegally, with no intention of producing the mandatory records. If that was the case, the police would take steps to impound the vessel.’

  Shaddock was silent. He stared from one to the other. Then he picked up the phone. ‘Leo, could you get me the crew manifest for Joy-13, please?’

  ‘Would an observer appear on the crew manifest?’ Singh asked.

  ‘Should do, yes.’ Shaddock no longer seemed as certain of his domain as before.

  Soon there was a knock and an eager young man entered. He smiled at the officers and handed a page to Shaddock, who skimmed it quickly before passing it over to Horseman. ‘That will be all, Joni. The manifest includes the name of Semisi Inia. As I thought most likely, your missing observer probably just changed his mind about his girlfriend and ran away.’

  ‘I very much hope so, Mr Shaddock. By the way, do ship’s crew fill in the same Immigration cards on arrival that air travellers do?’

  ‘Yes indeed. We make sure our captains have a supply.’

  ‘What happens to those?’

  ‘I don’t handle those yet, I’m afraid.’ Singh shot him a stern look.

  ‘Just joking, Sergeant. Immigration should have them.’

  *

  They walked back to the station. Horseman couldn’t tolerate being stuck in a cab inhaling diesel fumes while container trucks reversed in and out of warehouse yards. Quicker to walk, better for body and mind. And the latter certainly needed some help.

  ‘I’m kicking myself for not thinking of those Immigration cards before. I’ve filled in enough of them myself, but always at airports.’

  ‘Don’t kick too hard, sir. I forgot about them too. Not that I’ve ever been overseas.’

  ‘I’ve never thought about entry formalities for ship’s crews. But why would they be any different from plane crews?’

  ‘Now we know they’re not, we’re a step ahead.’

  ‘True. I don’t believe that manifest. I’m ninety-nine per cent certain Jimmy Inia disembarked at sea, out beyond the 12-mile limit. I’ll call Ash again the moment we’re back. We can’t challenge the manifest without a DNA match between Jona’s remains and Jimmy.’

  Sweat trickled down his neck and between his shoulder blades. The air was thick and lifeless under the grey clouds. He was glad to turn off the main road and walk under the shop awnings. He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his face.

  ‘I’ll buy you an ice cream, Singh.’ He loved the home-made ice cream at Hare Krishna. He bought two cups: lime-coconut for Singh and ginger-pineapple for himself. They hurried across the road and into the station before the ice turned back into cream.

  They sat at his desk, enjoying the cold treat.

  ‘I’m going to put Musudroka, Kau and some constables in plain clothes watching Joy-13 round the clock. They can photograph who comes and goes, ask casual questions of workers. I don’t want to show our hand before the DNA evidence comes in. The super will clear it with wharf security so we can access their records too.’

  ‘Good idea, sir. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Track down the Joy-13 entry records at Immigration. If they’ve already made it to the database, get authorised access and download them. Persist if Immigration is obstructive. Their Records section will close for the day soon and knowing them, they won’t want to work even a minute more. It’s unlikely the cards have been entered yet, as the vessel arrived on Friday. If that’s so, you’ll have to charm or bludgeon your way into getting copies. That won’t happen today, though.’

  ‘No chance. I’ll call right away and hope they’re uploaded.’

  25

  Horseman enjoyed having sole charge of Shiners training this afternoon. Lately he’d encouraged Musudroka and Kau to take the lead. He would arrive part-way through. But today the two young DCs were at Princess Wharf, being shown the ropes by the wharf security police. He was glad of the assistance of Constable Tui from Traffic, another regular volunteer.

  The boys were improving in all aspects of play. When he thought back to nine months ago when they started, their progress was impressive. He watched them jogging along in more-or-less straight lines now, passing the ball from one to the other; often fumbling but rarely missing the catch or dropping it.

  ‘Okay, Shiners. We’ll finish up with a practice game. Mosese, you’re the Skins captain. Vili, you take the Shirts. Captains, pick your teams!’

  Dr Pillai’s car pulled up as if on cue. The team’s honorary doctor enjoyed watching the practice match that ended training. It had become something of a ritual for the two men to share their hopes for the boys no one else cared about. He signalled to Tui to take over and jogged over to the doctor’s car to help him carry the boxes of food he always brought for the squad.

  ‘Six more boys turned up in second-hand rugby boots today. There’s no more antagonism. No one makes a remark, but they all notice. What do you think’s going on, Doctor?’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, human nature is going on, Joe. Nothing more, nothing less.’

  ‘What particular facet of human nature do you mean?’

  ‘Tevita turns up with boots. The others are jealous and attack him because he’s got something they want and he’s a bit of an outsider, always boasting he’s your friend. But there’s nothing to resent when a few other boys, boys that claim no special status for themselves, manage to scrounge boots somewhere. A few more do it, and suddenly, second-hand rugby boots are a new trend. The boys who manage to get them for themselves are admired and copied rather than envied.’ The doctor ducked his head. ‘That’s my reading of the situation, anyway.’

  ‘Makes sense, as you always do.’

  Horseman looked back onto the field. ‘I’d better get back and start blowing my whistle.’

  ‘No problems, I can set the meal up, Joe.’

  After training finished, Tevita wanted to speak to Horseman. He stayed behind on the pretext of carrying Dr Pillai’s boxes back to his car. When they waved the doctor off, Tevita said, ‘Joe, you see Pita and Simeone, they copy me?’

  ‘Oh, how’s that, Tevita?’

  Tevita grinned, delighted. ‘You know, Joe, you teasing me!’

  ‘Oh, you mean they copied the way you dodge a tackle?’

  ‘No!’ he insisted. The compliment pleased him all the same.

  ‘They got boots, like me!’

  ‘Io, Dr Pillai told me you’ve started a trend.’

  ‘Eh, true, Joe?’

  ‘That’s what the doctor said.’

  ‘Joe, I want report to you about my job. I gave out all flyers to customers. I did not waste one, Joe.’

  ‘Vinaka vakaleveu. That was a big help to me.’

  ‘That Jona head. You find out who he is yet?’

  ‘Not quite yet. We’ve got some clues, though.’

  ‘Horrible, that one, Joe! Horrible!’ Tevita became a shark, running in a menacing circle around Horseman, scissoring his outstretched arms. He turned, rushing at his prey, snapping his hands at his neck. Horseman ducked and they both laughed.

  ‘You think I can get work as paperboy, Joe? I liked handing out the flyers.’

  ‘Maybe. You could try, Tevita. But I think you’ll have a better future if you learn a trade. I can help you get training, like before. I know you didn’t l
ike carpentry much, but choose something you’d like to learn and I’ll help you.’

  ‘Io, Joe,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘Tell me, do you ever go to Princess Wharf, where the big fishing boats dock?’

  ‘I been there, but not much, Joe. Not much business there for me. Fishermen wear old trainers. They don’t want to spend money. But big King’s Wharf, that’s better for me. Cruise ships very good business, Joe. Nice people.’

  Horseman wondered. Tevita would be adept at sneaking around the wharf, keeping out of sight, eyes sharp. When discovered, he would be tolerated as a shoe-shine boy. And no one would suspect he was a police scout. Tempting.

  He kicked himself for even entertaining the thought. If he put Tevita in danger, how could he ever forgive himself? The days of Sherlock Holmes were over. Anyway, Holmes was a private investigator, not a sworn police officer.

  Tevita watched him, intense. ‘You want me watch on Princess Wharf for you, Joe? No problem for me!’

  ‘No, I don’t. I’ve already got police officers watching there.’

  Tevita’s face turned to stone. Horseman hated stamping out his eagerness. ‘If you happen to be at the wharves anyway, you can keep your eyes open, of course.’

  Tevita brightened.

  Horseman was anxious to divert him. ‘Where are you staying now, Tevita?’

  ‘Good place, Joe. You like it, I know. Pita, he staying with uncle near rubbish dump. Good place. I stay with Pita in room with other kids. They his cousins. But I like in town better, Joe.’

  The first drops of rain fell, swollen with waiting. Tevita pranced, holding his arms out. ‘Rain is here. Cool now, Joe.’

  ‘Io, Tevita. It’s getting dark too. Go home. Be good. Moce.’

  ‘Moce mada, Joe.’

  *

  Horseman had one more thing to do at this end of Suva. He slogged up the hill to the Anglican cathedral, wondering if it was dark enough. But there she was, leaning against the trunk of the fig tree, tall and elegant in emerald green, scanning the passers-by with a practised eye. He always thought of her as vulnerable prey, but now he caught her on full alert, there was a hint of the predator, too. They met in the shadows; Salome understood he was embarrassed to be seen talking to her while she was working. The encounter was open to misinterpretation, to say the least. She had told him some of her clients were policemen. If accused, how could he prove he wasn’t also a client?