Drive By

by Michael Duffy

  He was being too polite, letting the jacks dominate the situation. I swore inside my head at Salim, wondering where the jahesh was.

  I would have to explain the interview over the dinner table, describe every word, and the papa and Farid would tell me what I should have done, done this or done that. Fucking Salim. I was about to say something, just working out what, break off the interview, when Knight said, ‘Well, that’s all right then.’ Like the sneaky cunt knew what I was thinking.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘We’ll get statements from your parents and your family tomorrow morning and you’re in the clear. I’ll call Sam Deeb’s lawyer and let him know you didn’t kill Jason Teller, and there’ll be nothing for you to worry about. Might be best to stay off the street until then. Thanks for coming in.’

  Rafi stood up and wriggled his shoulders. ‘That’s it?’ he said. ‘You got us all the way in just for that?’

  Tough guy now the thing was over.

  ‘If you’ll just sit down, Mr Habib,’ said Ralston, making her voice a bit louder when she said Mister, like it was a joke.

  Rafi sat down, he didn’t react. I don’t think he is good at seeing things like that. When he was settled, Ralston went out of the room, and Knight explained she’d gone to get a senior officer to ask Rafi if he’d been given any threats to make him say his statement. I went over the interview in my mind, getting my memory correct. I got to the end and saw a problem.

  ‘I’ll bring the family in here tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Don’t you be coming to our place.’ Chris Taylor would have the shits about me taking more time off work, but this had to be done right. After the last time, the papa had said, No more jacks in the house. The mama had been so upset, he said, This cannot happen again.

  ‘Would that be clever?’ said Knight. ‘You saw what happened out there when you came in.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Bro!’ Rafi said, talking loud but in the language. ‘There is no way the papa will let them be brought in here to be laughed at by these arseholes.’

  ‘So you is wanting these animals to come to our house?’

  He threw up his hands. Knight told us to speak English and this inspector came in and went through all the stuff, and pretty soon we were walking past all the silent cops outside again, silent except for when they started to do this slow clapping thing with their hands. You don’t have a lawyer with you and these people treat you like shit.

  Make it worse, outside Salim was there after all, sitting in his BMW yabbering on the phone. When he saw us he got out, said, Mate, mate, all the bullshit, how he’d just arrived, so sorry, his car had broken down.

  You want to get a good Japanese machine, bro, I said to him when we’d done with all the hugging and stuff. But inside I had the shits with the guy, I mean, call himself a lawyer and not turn up when you need him. Like he’d never heard of taxis. He stood there now in this dark suit with little stripes in it, smoothing it down and looking at me out of the corner of his eye, the prick knew I was angry. If it wasn’t for Farid I would have pissed the guy off, Farid and Imad too, I guess. He said, Let’s have coffee, and I said I had to get back to work. Rafi asked me to have coffee too and I told him he didn’t have time for sitting around drinking coffee. Sometimes I don’t see how he gets through that uni course he’s doing, he must be a genius because he never does much work. I said goodbye, walked back to my car. Rang Dani on the way. When my head’s not right, she’s the one for me.

  Hello, honey, I said. I called her that because of the colour of her hair. G’day, lover, she said in that warm skip voice that makes my back go soft and another part of me real hard. I could hear the music of the salon going thud-thud in the background and she was panting a bit, like she does after we’ve made love. Really she’d just washed someone’s hair, she gets right into that, with her fingers and everything, but you know the sound I mean. I told her what had happened and she said she’d give Rafi an alibi too.

  I remember talking to him between ten and ten fifteen.

  Honey, that is brilliant, I said. That’s just the time when Jason Teller was killed.

  Love you, lover.

  What were you talking about? With Rafi?

  His marketing course. And he’d been out the night before, didn’t get in till five thirty, said he wanted an early one that night. I looked at my watch and it was just after ten.

  I thought about the watch on her tanned wrist, the white mark it left when she took it off in summer. Sometimes when the sun was right her arms looked like gold.

  Farid had given the watch to her for Christmas, it was a thin Patek, he’d got a few of them from somewhere, gave them to the sisters too. Dani had been stoked, really grateful, like she was honoured. She just fitted in with our family so well.

  Got to go now lover, got another wash.

  We kissed on the phone, like you do when you’re really in love, and I walked into the car park thinking of my girl. Sometimes I wished she was Lebanese, but of course, if she’d been that she wouldn’t have been Danielle. In this world, you can’t just have what you want. You’ve got to understand that, it is part of being a man.

  DAY THREE

  The precision of the court timetable reminded Bec of school. At morning tea—11.30 am as always—she followed Mabey outside, she seemed to be in a hurry. Someone had told her the Crown’s first name was Karen. Wig off but still gowned, she looked up and down the loggia and headed to the St James end, met a youth standing in shadow. Tall and thin, shaggy hair, he turned before Bec could see his face and Mabey and he moved off. They went into a big square just up the hill and Bec followed. She stopped to buy coffee at the church and watched them a hundred metres away, saw Mabey bring out her purse and give the boy notes. He was wearing a green T-shirt and black jeans, looked vaguely punky. Mabey tried to kiss him and he ducked and left. Bec turned so the barrister wouldn’t see her looking.

  Later, Knight was in the box, and Mabey played the ERISP of Rafiq Habib’s first police interview. When the video finished, she stood up and asked what had happened next.

  Knight: ‘We obtained statements from the Habib family and friends who swore they’d been with Rafiq Habib at the time Jason Teller was shot. Then we asked Mr Habib to come back to the station for another interview and he agreed.’

  Mabey: ‘Was anyone with him?’

  Knight: ‘He had his solicitor, Mr Salim Soufi.’

  Mabey: ‘This was two days after the first interview?’

  Knight: ‘Yes.’

  Mabey: ‘I’d like to ask the court to play the DVD of that second interview.’

  This one was shorter. After the preliminaries, Knight said to Rafiq Habib: ‘You know we conducted an interview with you recently.’

  Soufi: ‘In my absence. I’m lodging a formal complaint about that, it was a serious breach of my client’s rights.’

  Knight: ‘Mr Habib, can you speak to me?’ Turning to Soufi: ‘Does your client understand English? The English language?’

  Soufi: ‘My client is of Lebanese background.’

  Knight: ‘I interviewed him two days ago and he spoke English very well. Has there been a change since then? A regression?’

  Soufi: ‘What? Are you saying because he’s Lebanese he can’t speak English properly?’

  Murmurs in the court.

  Knight: ‘You tell me. A lot of people can’t speak English properly. Mr Habib seems to have gone silent. Do we need an interpreter for him?’

  Soufi: ‘This is racist!’

  Edgy stuff, Bec had thought at the time. Now she turned to Knight and he was leaning back, eyes closed.

  Back to the ERISP.

  Knight: ‘You told us two days ago you couldn’t have killed Jason Teller because you weren’t in Gallipoli Park on the night of 4 April, when he was killed. Do you still say that?’

  Habib: ‘Yeah.’

  Knight: ‘You said you were at a barbecue at your parents’ place from about eight to eleven that night.’

  S
oufi: ‘What night are we talking about?’

  Knight said nothing. Soufi repeated his question.

  Knight: ‘Rafiq, you were there?’

  Soufi: ‘What night—’

  Knight: ‘Rafiq knows the night we’re talking about, don’t you, Rafiq?’

  Habib: ‘Yeah. I was there then at the barbecue.’

  Knight: ‘As you know, yesterday we took sworn statements from people at the barbecue who say they saw you there at the time Jason Teller was killed. They include your parents and your sisters, that’s correct?’

  Habib: ‘Sure. Except Jamila. She and Salim were away. They’s married.’

  Knight: ‘Okay.’

  Knight had a good voice, nice and deep. Although he was speaking slowly for the recorder, there was still plenty of expression in it. He sounded friendly, no hint of what was to come. You couldn’t see on the screen that Soufi had gone off the boil, was fiddling with his smartphone.

  Knight: ‘You understand if your family is lying to protect you, they could get into all sorts of trouble?’

  Soufi: ‘I object to the suggestion the family is lying. This is disgrace—’

  Knight: ‘I have to inform you that on the night he died, and for a number of days previously, Mr Teller’s mobile phone was being tapped by the New South Wales Crime Commission. That’s an independent agency with special powers that helps police with some inquiries.’

  Bec had watched the video four times and this bit always got her. Soufi’s jaw didn’t drop but the lower part of his face sort of sagged, and he looked at Rafiq and blinked. His client still hadn’t got it.

  Knight: ‘Do you understand?’ Rafiq was staring at Soufi, who seemed unable to speak. ‘I ask again for the record, do you understand what I’m saying? Mr Teller’s mobile phone was the subject of a legal telephone intercept.’

  Rafiq’s face went pasty. Soufi leaned into him and they whispered, leaned back until he was straight.

  Soufi: ‘My client has nothing further to say at this point.’

  Knight to Rafiq: ‘The call charge records show you ringing Mr Teller at 10.16 pm, not long before he was shot, saying, “I’m here, man, see you in two.” The records also give us an approximate idea of your location.’

  Rafiq slumped back in his chair, not looking too good. Soufi couldn’t work out who to focus on, him or Knight.

  Knight: ‘We’ll be seeking expert evidence from an engineer to say the records show the call could have been made from the park—and it could not have been made from your parents’ house.’

  Soufi: ‘I think my client’s feeling sick.’

  Knight: ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  Rafiq got to his feet, looking shaky, and grabbed Soufi’s shoulder. Then—and this is why the DVD had been copied illegally and shown in police stations around the state—he leaned forward and vomited, mainly onto the table.

  Knight winced but stayed in his seat. Before the interview he’d said to Bec, Whatever happens, stay sitting down. Probably he had not envisaged this.

  Knight: ‘Can we take that as an admission of guilt?’

  Soufi: ‘My client asserts his right to silence.’

  Knight: ‘Sometimes, Mr Soufi, actions speak louder than words.’

  Roselands Police Station

  Harris had told them about the TIs on the first day of the investigation, when he’d dragged Knight and Bec into the super’s office and shut the door. In fact he had two crucial pieces of information derived from phone taps. This pleased Knight and Bec but it did not surprise them: police spend an enormous amount of time tapping phones, although they do not like to talk about it in public. They do not wish to harm the telecommunications industry by discouraging people from using its services. First he described the surveillance on Imad Habib’s mobile phone calls in jail, which revealed him saying he believed Teller had given information to the police.

  ‘Not true,’ said Knight. ‘We didn’t talk to Teller during Imad’s investigation. I didn’t even know he existed.’

  ‘Well, Imad believed it,’ said Harris.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘No idea. But it gives you motive.’

  ‘I could kiss you.’

  ‘If you promise not to, I can give you means, too.’

  The other surveillance operation, on Sam Deeb and his contacts, had netted Jason Teller. This was Operation Condor, which had also involved the Crime Commission. They’d had Teller under occasional physical surveillance, although not on the night of his death. But the phone taps had been non-stop, for two months up to the shooting. Harris took out a small digital recorder and played them the brief call from Rafiq to Teller.

  Habib: ‘I’m here, man, see you in two.’

  Teller: ‘You here?’

  Habib: ‘Just coming up the road. See you—’

  Harris clicked off the device, said, ‘The technology puts Habib near Gallipoli Park, 10.16 pm. Intel says they had reason to meet— Habib was buying coke from Teller, it started at the gym they both used.’ He pulled a big glossy from a green folder. It showed an enormous Anglo muscle man and a handsome Lebanese youth close together, the youth putting a package into a sports bag. Then a second pic, the big man taking a fat envelope from the youth. ‘Buy and sell. That’s a few months earlier. Plenty of others.’

  ‘Rafiq was in the game?’

  Rhetorical question. ‘Probably still is, moron. He’s going to uni and does a bit of dealing there, University of Sydney. It surprised us because we’d been told the family plan was for the two younger brothers to go straight.’

  ‘But now . . .’

  Harris produced a thumb drive and held out the folder. ‘Here’s the call, transcripts. Plus other stuff, video of Rafiq buying drugs from Teller near his gym. On several occasions.’

  Knight did not take the offerings. He said, ‘You put a lot of effort into this bloke.’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was some staring, Bec excluded. ‘Any other calls, him to Rafiq?’

  ‘He always had a couple of phones, couldn’t get them all.’

  ‘Big op, this thing against the Deebs?’

  ‘Sam upsets a lot of people. The media build up these flashy types into great crims and then blame us for not doing something about them.’ Deeb’s Elizabeth Bay penthouse by the harbour had been featured in a newspaper recently, in the design pages. They hadn’t mentioned that Sam owned the entire four-storey block. Harris added: ‘If it was up to me, I’d put the resources into the Habibs. They’ve got a property portfolio, investments, you name it. Imad’s a stone-cold killer and Farid’s a smart businessman, best of both worlds.’

  ‘You reckon they’re worse?’

  ‘When we get Sam, the Deebs are finished. They’ve got a family rep but the brothers stopped working together years ago. The Habibs are different, they’re pretty tight. Farid is a very good businessman. Their accountant is some sort of second cousin and they’ve got this lawyer prick in the family now. Take them down, I will be a happy man.’

  ‘What about Mahmud, the dad? He the godfather?’

  Harris frowned. ‘If The Godfather was set in Sydney today it would be about the Lebs. But brothers, lots of brothers. Fathers don’t matter anymore.’

  He seemed to have given the matter a lot of thought.

  ‘John?’

  ‘Our intel says he’s honest.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘What the family call him, Honest John. But who knows?’ Harris’s face was flushed. Bec figured he was remorseless, had a lot of energy. She had a lot of energy herself, could see the appeal of attaching it to a cause like destroying the Habibs. You needed focus.

  They went over it once more, the relationship and why Rafiq might have wanted Teller dead. A lot of police work was going over the same material again, putting it in different orders, looking for connections. A lot of police work involved getting nowhere. Then you gave up; but not with murder.

  ‘Teller’s been here about two years,’ Harris said
. ‘Worked the door at the Ninety-Four, one of Sam’s. When that closed he became manager of Java. It’s in his name and two mates’, but Sam funded it through various companies. Same old, it’s a shopfront for drugs, mainly whizz and eckie.’ He smiled at Knight. ‘Like in our day, mate. Names change, the basic story’s the same.’

  ‘Sound business model.’

  ‘Sam’s genius lies in how he’s managed to keep himself distanced from all that, turn the money into legitimate dollars. Like the old rum dealers.’

  Bec got the analogy. Sydney’s first cohort of successful businessmen, British military officers in the 1790s, had made their money from dealing illegally in spirits. They’d paid other ranks and ex-convicts to retail the stuff for them, put the profits into farms and sandstone mansions.

  Knight said, ‘Those guys have got streets named after them now. Suburbs.’

  ‘Yeah well,’ Harris said. ‘Our guys are going to jail. Look, Java opened only two nights a week. That left Teller with a lot of down time.’

  He produced another photo from the green folder. It was Teller without a shirt, lots of tattoos, shaved head, bulging arms. Bec wondered why Harris hadn’t shown the photos of Teller at the briefing earlier. It was as though he’d wanted to present the case to Knight all at once, as a package.

  ‘Liked the gym,’ Knight observed.

  ‘And the ’roids.’

  ‘City East, one of Sam’s places?’

  ‘No. But we were wondering if he’d find out anyway, about the drugs.’

  ‘He’d’ve wanted a cut?’

  ‘Doesn’t like his employees branching out on their own. If he did find out, maybe they had an argument.’

  ‘So where does Rafiq come in?’

  Harris looked impatient, as though it was time to move on. He still had the folder in his hand, wanting Knight to take it. But the big man was standing back, hands in pockets.

  ‘Who knows?’ Harris pulled out his phone. ‘You want this stuff or not?’

  ‘Of course. Keep your hair on.’

  Harris placed the folder on the desk. ‘I’ve got to go. Have to leave you guys some work to do.’