This was more like it. ‘What’s a PLB?’
‘Sorry, personal locator beacon.’
Another acronym. ‘Of course. What happened next?’
‘Nothing for a while. Alon call us to mess, split us up to search different sections of the ship, even the freezer holds. No one find Jimmy. Alon go to bridge to report to captain.’
‘What did the captain do?’
‘He turn ship around, put on spotlights, sound foghorn and all the crew look for Jimmy in water. For one hour, I think. No trace. Captain order to resume our course. He say no chance Jimmy is alive without safety equipment.’
‘What do you think, Filipo?’
‘How can I know? Captain may be right, but we should search back along our route for longer.’ He shook his head, gazing into the distance.
A good place to end for now. Horseman was almost disappointed that Filipo’s account confirmed the captain’s, except for the length of the search. Filipo’s time estimates were hazy; he didn’t wear a watch. He wondered if time was still marked by the eight-bells system on modern fishing vessels.
‘I thank you very much for your cooperation and your time, Filipo. You’ve helped us a great deal. We’ll need to speak to you again. An officer will phone you when we need you. Is that alright?’
‘Yes, I want to help Jimmy’s family, sir. I will talk to you here at the station. Not on the ship.’
32
Horseman and Kau were both late for training. Once again the stalwart volunteers from Traffic got the session underway. Unless there was a catastrophic road accident, traffic constables’ hours were pretty regular.
‘No dinner for you, Joe, no dinner for you, Apolosi,’ Pita, the team clown, yelled. ‘You’re both late!’ This was his way of expressing his pleasure that they both turned up, however late.
A practice game was in full swing. ‘About three-quarters of them are wearing boots, Apo. Tevita really started something.’
‘Io, sir. Just think, two weeks ago some of them attacked him for showing off.’
‘Ah, the fickleness of fashion. You’d better take your place on the line.’
It was a humid afternoon. At the end of training, the boys sprayed water over each other. They put their heads under the taps to cool off and drink at the same time. Dr Pillai made sure each had a good drink of water before they tucked into their chicken, greens and rice.
Afterwards, Tevita beckoned him aside. ‘Joe, Joe, I been watching Joy-13 for you. Down at wharf.’
He was taken aback. ‘Why? I asked you not to do that, Tevita.’
Tevita’s mouth turned down. He looked reproachful. ‘You say to keep my eyes open. I want to help you, Joe.’
Horseman remembered he’d said something vague to lessen the boy’s disappointment. He should have known better. ‘Io, I know you do. But you could get into trouble from security. How did you get through the gates?’
Tevita chuckled. ‘Ah, that my secret, Joe. But Joe, I tell you those police you got down there, they don’t know what to do.’
‘Why’s that, Tevita?’
‘Talk to each other, Joe. Don’t pay attention. But main thing—they stay too close to boat. Can watch only one side next to wharf. Monday night, first time I go there, I see a boat leave other side of Joy-13. Many people, Joe. They don’t go on wharf. They get off other side in boat and go west. Row with paddles, Joe. I see. Then boat come back again and take more away.’
‘Really? The officers didn’t report this.’
‘No Joe, because they all on the wharf, can’t see other side of boat! I scout all around, front and back. When I good way ahead of Joy-13, I can see what happening on other side.’ Tevita sounded as if his patience was sorely tried.
‘Can you tell me anything about these people?’
‘Not much, Joe. Many ladies, Chinese.’
‘Vinaka, Tevita. But some men around Joy-13 could be bad. If they caught you spying, they could hurt you. I order you not to go there again.’
‘Okay, Joe, but I done good, eh?’ He beamed.
‘You did very well, Tevita, but don’t go there again. Keep safe now. Moce mada.’ They shook hands.
‘Moce, Joe.’
Tevita wouldn’t concoct such a story out of thin air. There must be something to it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t check with the surveillance team right now. He had a sad date with Jimmy’s possessions at the SOCO lab.
*
Ash unpacked the Flying Fijians sports bag, examining each item before putting it on the table for Horseman to check and sort into piles for Jimmy’s family and his Fisheries employers, or supervisors or whatever their correct legal title was. He inhaled a stale whiff of sweat laced with mould as he emptied a plastic bag onto the table. Jimmy’s laundry bag. A T-shirt, shorts, underpants, two pairs of socks. He must have kept on top of his washing, then. The remaining few sets of clothes were clean and neatly folded. A new-fangled inflatable life jacket was encrusted with salt crystals. Would it have saved him from the shark? Probably not—he’d seen reports of surfers paddling their boards losing a foot or arm.
A zippered wallet with the Fiji Observer Program logo contained salty smelling stained notebooks, two plastic ring-binders holding filled-in templates, manuals, a pencil case and scattered bits of stationery. Laminated pictures of fish, glossaries of fishing terms in different languages interested him but he couldn’t take time to examine them. There were also caps, sunglasses, an iPod and charger, CDs, and a small Bible—all of them worn and a bit salty.
‘I’ve already checked out the computer bag,’ Ash said, pushing a plastic box across to him. The mini-laptop looked robust, maybe a special model supplied by Fisheries. A compact digital camera. The bag was empty, the cables, chargers and batteries jumbled together.
‘Anything of interest on the computer?’
It all seems to be work-related. There’re email messages, but nothing personal there. The account is on the ship’s server. Whoever administers that can see the emails, so that could be one reason Jimmy didn’t use it much.’
‘Or he might not like using computers much, or not be very good at it. That would put him in line with the majority of Fijians, I suspect.’
‘True. You’ll probably want to check the files yourself. The camera, too. Lots of fish and shipboard life. You may need someone from the industry to interpret a lot of them. I couldn’t see the point of some of the shots. Not many include people.’
‘The camera may have been issued by Fisheries too. I’ll ask Jimmy’s supervisor.’
‘What’s interesting is what’s not there.’
‘I think so too. No passport, wallet, no cash or bank cards…’ Horseman trailed off.
‘No mobile phone, no personal photos. But would he take these things to sea? He couldn’t use them, could he?’ Ash asked.
‘He’d need his passport to fly to Majuro and to re-enter Fiji, even if the ship called at no other port.’
Ash smacked his head. ‘Of course, how stupid of me.’
‘You do alright for a SOCO,’ Horseman teased. ‘I’ll check if Jimmy left anything in Fisheries’ care. I’ll check with his friend who reported him missing, too. Thanks for everything, Ash. What a sad case this one is, eh?’
Together they repacked the bag. Horseman put everything likely to belong to Fisheries in the box, put the bag on top and walked out. He was certain he’d find Singh still at the station updating the case file, as the paperwork for the case had ballooned days ago. He didn’t want to keep her late, but he’d like to toss ideas around with her before the case review meeting tomorrow.
*
Horseman returned to the station to find a memo from the super, anchored to his desk by his tea mug. He had to admit this was not so easily overlooked as an email. Maybe Jimmy was like the super, who was perfectly capable of corresponding by email but only resorted to that medium when forced.
The super’s news was like a pinprick to his balloon. Captain Shen’s solicitor had applied fo
r bail, pending a challenge to the jurisdiction of the Fiji Police Force over any crimes or misdemeanours alleged to have occurred on the fishing vessel Joy-13, registered in the People’s Republic of China. Consequently, Captain Shen had been released at six o’clock. He picked up the telephone. The super answered.
‘Joe? Thought I’d be hearing from you. Don’t bother apologising. There wasn’t any choice. The captain has his rights too, you know.’
‘Sir, I did check on our maritime jurisdiction and it’s as I remembered. Fiji police have the power to investigate accidents and crimes committed on board foreign vessels within our territorial seas.’
‘That’s one of the matters under dispute. But not the only one. Shen claims that the fishing observer fell overboard beyond the twelve-nautical-mile limit.’
‘How can he prove that? No one knows what time he went overboard. He can’t have been much beyond the limit, by my reckoning.’
‘Have you consulted a map?’
‘No sir, I had no time. But even a marine chart isn’t much use. We know where Jimmy’s head was fished up, but that was at least twelve hours after he entered the sea. And tiger sharks roam over very large areas. Even the ship’s log can’t establish the location when we don’t know the time. But I bet Shen’s not offering us the ship’s log anyway.’
‘No, he’s not.’
‘Sir, I had to arrest the captain to declare the Joy-13 a crime scene so we can get the log and other records. The SOCOs must search the vessel for any potential evidence relating to Jimmy Inia. What with the delay in approving the search warrants…’
‘Io, the magistrate got in touch after you left this afternoon. He had second thoughts over the jurisdictional questions and decided to double-check the law himself. The warrants wait in the queue until then.’
‘How—?’
‘We all have to sing the same hymn, Joe.’
‘Of course, sir. I understand there are grey areas—’
‘Murky waters indeed. So, tomorrow morning, I’ll meet with the magistrate and listen to the expert legal opinion.’
‘Sir, my only interest is to find the truth about how Jimmy died. If you could have seen his head…’
‘I’m not accusing you of being over-zealous, Joe. I understand where you’re coming from. I’ll be in touch as soon as my meeting with the magistrate is over.’
‘I planned to have a case review meeting around half past nine. Should I go ahead with that?’
‘Certainly, I’m not asking you to stop investigating. Speed it up if you can. But for now, no arrests of Joy-13 crew and no crime scene. Surveillance, yes. SOCOs, no.’
‘Vinaka sir. Got that. Moce mada.’
There was no sign of Singh so he sent a text alerting her to the magistrate’s concerns and the meetings tomorrow. Then he walked down to Princess Wharf for a spot check on the surveillance watch.
FRIDAY 22nd September
33
Alon Diego Santo was at the station at eight o’clock on Friday morning, when Horseman arrived.
‘Good morning, Mr Santo. I’m very glad you’re here. First, let’s get you fingerprinted since you packed Jimmy’s bag. Then we’ll talk. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’
‘Thank you, coffee please.’ Horseman passed Santo’s request on to a constable at reception while another led Santo along the corridor to be fingerprinted.
By the time that was done, the constable had delivered the coffee tray, complete with biscuits.
‘I appreciate your cooperation, Mr Santo. We interviewed most of the crew yesterday, as you probably know. Why are many of them reluctant to talk to us?’
Santo shrugged. ‘Strange country, they don’t know the language or how the police work here.’
Horseman nodded. ‘Maybe. Some of them even denied that there was a fishing observer on board at all. That’s odd, isn’t it?’
‘Sure, everyone knew about Jimmy and his job. He was a friendly guy. Even if he couldn’t talk to most of them he’d always smile and greet them in their own languages.’
‘One or two men complained about the conditions on board. About not being paid adequately and overcrowded conditions. Is that resentment rife?’
‘Longlining is a tough life. But conditions on Joy-13 are pretty good compared with other vessels. I’m an engineer, so my pay is better. The captain and all crew get a percentage of the catch proceeds, like a bonus. We depend on that. But Joy-13 is only four years old, first-class engines that are a pleasure to work on.’
Horseman didn’t say any more. He didn’t want to divulge that it was Filipo, Santo’s compatriot, who had complained.
‘When did you last see Jimmy?’
‘On Friday, maybe four in the afternoon. The crew had finished a haul. The conveyor belt taking the cleaned tuna to the cool hold kept stopping so I went along there to see what was the problem. A hook had jammed the works so I fixed it and made my way up to the bridge. I passed Jimmy on the stairs. He had his camera around his neck and his plastic case under his arm.’
‘His plastic case—what’s that?’
‘Oh, he used to call it his toolbox.’ Santo smiled fondly. ‘His fishing observer kit—all his forms and things. Tough and waterproof.’
‘Where was he headed?’
‘It’s hard for me to say. It was on the central stairs so he could have been headed anywhere.’
‘He was going down and you were going up, I assume?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Was Jimmy wearing his life jacket?’
‘Oh, now let me think.’ Santo screwed up his eyes as if to focus better on the past.
‘These new inflatables are so thin you don’t notice them.’ He opened his eyes again.
‘Sorry, I can’t be sure.’
‘Did he usually wear it?’
‘Oh yes, when he was on deck, his PLB, too. Sorry, that’s a GPS emergency beacon, He was a stickler for safety devices. I guess that goes with being an observer. It’s all about abiding by the rules, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so. Jimmy’s role as an observer would conflict with the captain and crew, wouldn’t it? The captain’s goal is a profitable trip. The observer’s role is recording the catch data. Doesn’t that mean he records illegal things, too? Like banned species. Or dumping dead fish overboard, de-finning sharks and dumping the carcases overboard.’
Santo smiled. ‘Oh, you know about longlining.’
‘Not much. I’m just starting to find out. Did the captain commit these sorts of breaches on Joy-13?’
‘I’m the engineer. I can’t tell you.’
‘You’re too modest, Mr Santo. As you’ve served on the ship for three years, and you’re second in command, I think you know what was going on.’
‘Sorry, sir, I’m on the bridge or in the engine room when they’re hauling.’
‘You were Jimmy’s friend. Did he talk to you about his work, any worries he had about the practices on board?’
‘We did enjoy talking occasionally, but he wasn’t a chatty man. Never gossiped. He didn’t really share his opinions.’
‘How did he get on with the captain?’
Santo shrugged again. ‘Okay. They couldn’t talk much. Occasionally I saw them together on deck or on the bridge. Jimmy would show the captain photos on his camera or something in his notebook. I don’t know more than that.’
‘What do you think of the observer’s role?’
‘I’ve only been on board with an observer once before. It’s quite unusual. They have their job, to give the scientists information about fish stocks.’
‘They must be outsiders, though.’
‘I guess so. They are with us for just one trip. Sometimes they’re in the way. Most of the crew ignore them as language is often a problem.’
‘Thank you very much, Mr Santo. I may need to speak to you again.’
Santo nodded. ‘I’m always willing to help, Inspector.’
*
‘Troops, let’s go
back to last Sunday week. Twelve days ago, but seems like an age, doesn’t it? A fisherman found a human head inside a shark. We didn’t even know if the head belonged to a man or a woman. Through persistent digging, science and a bit of luck, we’ve identified the Fijian man, Semesi Inia, aka Jimmy, a fishing observer on the longliner Joy-13. You’ve all contributed to that discovery. Well done.’
The officers acknowledged his thanks with nods, smiles and murmurs.
‘Joy-13’s captain made a statement yesterday, admitting that crew reported Jimmy missing exactly two weeks ago on Friday 8th September. As Jimmy was his own boss, it’s feasible that he wasn’t missed for some hours, as Captain Shen claims. Two of the crew confirm that the captain turned the vessel around and searched for some time—the accounts differ as to how long. Then the captain wrote Jimmy off as lost overboard by accident, presumed drowned.
‘The captain faces criminal charges for failing to report a fatal accident at sea. However, Shen’s solicitor has challenged the jurisdiction of the Fiji police and other authorities. The result of this is that the captain was released yesterday afternoon. Later today the super will be able to clarify the situation.’
‘But sir—’ everyone protested at the same time.
He held up his hand, patting the air. ‘I know, I feel the same. But nothing has changed yet. We’ve got to drive this investigation as fast as we can, get to the answer before slow-moving bureaucracy can stop us.’
There were thumps on the table and smiles, ‘Io, sir.’
‘I’ve double-checked maritime law too. What I remembered is correct. Crime trumps everything. If the police have reason to suspect a crime has been committed on board a ship in territorial waters, we must not discriminate because the vessel is foreign. We can and must investigate the crime, including searching the vessel and all its contents, just as if it was a shed at the end of the wharf. The catch is, Captain Shen now claims Jimmy fell overboard beyond the 12-mile limit. He can’t demonstrate that unless he produces his log and unless he really does know the precise time Jimmy entered the water.’
‘What if he did go overboard beyond the 12-mile limit, sir?’ Kau asked.
Death Beyond the Limit: Fiji Islands Mysteries 3 Page 15
