by Matt Hammond
“A bit like EBay?”
“Kind of. Cowood realised they needed a legitimate way of laundering the money, so they set up a complex system, relying on New Zealand’s physical isolation from the rest of the world. There are a number of agents who import these goods and advertise them on the auction website under the guise of being one of the hundreds of thousands of legitimate online traders. In reality there are probably only about seventy-five to a hundred Cowood agents trading on the site, but each has several hundred online pseudonyms. Of course, they set a reserve price to cover the cost of the item and then, if the item sells for more, Cowood makes a small profit as well as successfully laundering the money. The bizarre thing about all this is that, as a result of Cowood coming up with this scheme, New Zealand now has one of the most enthusiastic online trading populations in the world. So many Kiwis have signed up to buy or sell their own stuff perfectly legitimately that, in the past year alone, the population of New Zealand has contributed around eighteen million dollars in commission to Cowood’s online trading scam and therefore is actually willingly bankrolling its oppressors. So there you have it, Dave. A subtle invasion. The money comes in, gets laundered and is absorbed into the economy with the tacit co-operation of the population. The money is then used to purchase vast tracts of land, again with the entirely reasonable aim of establishing forestry or dairy herds. The profit from these operations will then be used to construct the conversion plants to produce the bio fuel and connecting pipe work infrastructure, and eventually a Trans–Pacific pipeline. Because all the profit is re-invested in the business, there is very little the regulatory authorities can do to either influence or stop how the business grows. It’s only a matter of time before Cowood actually achieves its aim. They’re obviously very secretive of their true intentions, and we have a hell of a job trying to convince people any of this is happening at all.”
That was it. Right at the end, just then, the confirmation David had been waiting for. Ed had finally let slip an innocuous ‘we’. He was involved in this far more than he had let on up until that moment. Sure he knew the background story and seemed to have a good grasp of the bigger picture, but with that one small slip of the tongue he had confirmed a suspicion that had been increasing in David’s mind ever since they had reunited the day before.
“You said 'we'.”
Ed sat back, momentarily startled. “What do you mean?” he said, defensively.
“You said we have a hell of a job. Who are we?”
Ed shook his head, trying to find the right words. ‘However I say this, it’s going to come out sounding melodramatic and overly sensational, so I’m going to just say it, OK? I’m with the resistance.”
A smile turned into a gentle chuckle, which developed into full scale laughter as, in David’s mind, Ed was now speaking in a French accent and wearing a beret.
A momentary grin crossed Ed’s face also. “Piss off, Dave! I can’t think of any better way of putting it, alright?”
“So what does this resistance do then, Ed?”
“Well, we try and find out what the Government knows about Cowood, try and resist by stopping the money coming in. That can be the most difficult thing. We know the New Zealand Secret Intelligence Service has agents in all the major cities around the world that immigrants originate from - London, Johannesburg, Los Angeles and about a dozen others. For example, in London the SIS placed an agent in a senior position in the Royal Mail. He, in turn, handles a number of other agents who are employed as sorting office supervisors. The SIS have trained them to re-programme the sorting office technology to recognise the distinctive pre-printed envelopes that the Associated Bank of Monaco uses for mailing out the credit cards to potential couriers. They can then send a list of who the bank has targeted to be cross-referenced with passenger lists for flights inbound from the UK to Auckland.”
“So you knew I was at the airport waiting to come here?”
“Not exactly. I found out about four hours into the flight that it was you, after the stuff happened with the SIS agent being murdered.”
“You already knew about that?”
“He was working as a cleaner at the airport and was trying to intercept you and get the credit card before you left. It was the poor bugger’s first proper mission and he decided to take on the guys who were planting the card on you. The poor sod was overpowered and thrown off a roof. Anyway, your name sounded familiar. I ran a quick check on your last address and confirmed it was the same fella I went to school with. Meanwhile the SIS put what they call an Alpha One Zone in place. They kept watch and guided you all the way to the seat you’re in now.”
“All the way?”
“The intercept at Changi Airport was the SIS. They can only work officially within our own border, so had to assume British identities before the Singapore authorities would allow them to question you. The guy at the car rental in Auckland was also SIS. I didn’t anticipate you trying to track me down, and you threw them off for a bit when you booked that flight south. They traced my email reply back to you, which they could only do when you went back online at the ferry terminal in Auckland. We didn’t count on them having a cover story ready and coming here quite so soon.”
“So how did you get involved in all this, Ed?”
“It was when Trevor, the sales guy from the Pharmaceutical division of Cowood, came to the island and started promoting their so called wonder product. Being a vet myself, we got chatting about this and that, and one night after our third bottle of Pinot his tongue loosened up. At first it all sounded wildly far-fetched, until a few days later when a farm hand called me to come and look at an animal. When I got there, we drove out in the 4x4 until we got to a deserted paddock. Not a bloody cow in sight. I stopped the engine and we sat there for an hour while he confirmed not only everything Trevor had said, but far more stuff. Trevor had painted this rosy vision of a hugely successful multi-national conglomerate that was investing in the future of this country and would make all the farmers - dairy workers and everyone in between - stinking rich. This farm hand said he had heard another darker side to what was going on. He explained how Cowood was about to move onto the next phase of their plan. Coffee?” Ed decided now would be a good time for a break, stood up, and made his way towards the kitchen. “He said the biggest obstacle Cowood would have to overcome, when the full extent of their plans eventually became public knowledge, would be the huge international and local opposition to their proposal. They would need friends in high places, and lots of them, when the time came.”
David interrupted as Ed continued making the coffee. “So who is going to support this supposed invasion if everything you have been told is true?”
“The Greens.”
David was surprised by this unexpected reply. “The Greens?”
“Exactly, the Ecological Political Assembly of New Zealand. EPANZ, is our equivalent of the European and North American Green parties. They have a significant groundswell of popular support in New Zealand, especially in the middle class. Cowood recognised this early on. Slowly and methodically they have infiltrated the Party. Just think about it. Cowood advocates sustainable, renewable energy using existing resources and infrastructure. The tree huggers love the idea but the poor bastards don’t realise their principles are being manipulated for massive corporate gain. The next general election is in three years time. Between now and then Cowood aims to have a leader of EPANZ who is completely sympathetic to their aspirations. They’ll pump huge dollars into EPANZ, quite legally, through member donations from ordinary Kiwis; farmers, land owners and the like who traditionally would have been the last people to vote Green, but who now, of course, sell their products exclusively to Cowood, who in turn will exercise complete control over the manifesto of EPANZ. In three years, New Zealand will be the first country in the world to elect a leader from a Party founded solely on ecological issues. They will have such an overwhelming majority that they’ll be able to pass any bill in Parliament that Cowood
needs in order to begin work on the construction of the interconnecting pipelines and the consequential destruction of the land in-between.” Ed passed David his coffee and sat back down. “Believe me, Dave, it’s going to happen. In fact, it’s already started. Today is evidence of that.”
David sipped his coffee. “Ok, Ed, so how do you stop it?”
“We can’t really stop the money; we can only slow it down. Each card brings in such huge amounts of the stuff it’s like fighting a forest fire with a bucket of sand. There are some guys on the mainland who are starting to take direct action, mainly out of frustration. Some of the smaller landowners feel they are being intimidated into selling out when Cowood buys up the surrounding acreage. These fellas might start a fire and destroy a few hectares of Cowood forestry, but Cowood just ignores it or puts it down to personal grievance or jealousy. So, for the moment, they don’t seem to be aware that there is any kind of undercurrent of unrest or resistance to them.”
“But what about what happened at Heathrow? Surely that must have shown them someone is trying to sabotage their plans?”
“The Government managed a pretty good cover story with that one. The High Commission in London issued a press statement saying the murdered agent was part of a criminal gang at the airport who were employed as cleaners and who then branched out from pick pocketing and petty theft in the public areas to stealing from vehicles in the car parks. The press release said the car parks are the territory of the Asian baggage handlers who work at the airport. He was busy casing vehicles when they saw him in his cleaner’s uniform and took exception to him working their patch, so they threw him over the wall as a signal to the other cleaners to stay away. Unfortunately, the fact that he died in the line of duty, trying to protect his country, can never be revealed to his family or the public.” Ed glanced at his watch. It was six-thirty. “Go upstairs, grab a bag and meet me by the truck. We don’t have much time. MAF have called a public meeting in the Memorial Hall at seven to brief the farmers and the rest of the islanders. It’s going to be our best chance to get you off.”
David walked into the bedroom. Katherine was lying on the bed, sobbing. She looked over to him and another wave of salty tears rolled down her left cheek to join the others steadily moistening the cotton sheet beneath her head. She sniffed. “Do you know where they are taking you?” She seemed to have known the next step before he did;
“Er, not sure, back to Auckland, I think, at least for tonight anyway, How do you know? What’s Anika been saying?”
She sat up, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “She said a war has started, and that by coming here and invading their own island, the Government has made it clear that it knows what’s going on and that it isn't prepared to let it go. She thinks the Americans will make the next move and that’ll probably be to try and intercept you. Ed is taking you to meet some guys in the South Island who can protect you and what you are carrying.” She stood, the vertical movement unleashing another wave of tearful emotion as she hugged him tightly. “Dave, what’s going on here? Why can’t they leave us alone to just get on with setting up home and living our lives? How have we become so heavily involved in all of this?”
“It’s precisely because we’re just normal Mr and Mrs Average, the kind of people who can move into and around the country without attracting any suspicion or attention. So we’ve become part of their plan. But we’ve realised what is going on, paid attention when we shouldn’t have, so I just need to be kept out of the spotlight. The Government want to use me as bait and Cowood wants their card back.”
Katherine dried her eyes and looked up at her husband. “Anika has said I can stay here. Of course, I want to come with you but she says, if I stay here, it’ll throw them of your scent, at least for the next twenty-four hours. Hopefully they’ll think you’re still here as well and that will give you time to get away, down south, somewhere safe, then you can let me know and I can come and join you.” She trailed off into yet more sobbing, hugging and tears.
They stood for several minutes holding each other, feeling each other’s warmth. They had not held each other like this for a long while.
Ed called up the stairs. “Dave we have to leave NOW!” They didn’t move. Ed called again, this time softer, more apologetic. “Sorry, both of you. We have to go, Dave.”
Reluctantly they pulled apart. The room became instantly cooler. David kissed her again, turned, picked up his bag from by the door and hurried down stairs, through the deserted café and out into the dark early evening gloom.
Ed explained high tide was at seven-thirty which left just enough time to drive as far as they could before tramping the final kilometre to the isolated bay where a boat waited to take them back to Auckland.
Chapter 10
Ed turned off the road into open countryside. The 4x4 loped over the undulating terrain until they reached a wooded area. Ed slowly weaved amongst the thick tree trunks, their bark and leaves unfamiliar to David, before stopping and turning off the engine. “That’s as far as we can go by car. Grab your stuff, Dave. We’re on foot from here.”
They made their way down the steeply sloping wooded terrain. In the increasing darkness, exposed tree roots and slippery rocks made the descent treacherous. David used the thin whippy trees sprouting from the hillside as handrails - grab and jump, grab and jump - each time jarring his wrists. First left then right, each took the full weight of his body as he continued the steep downward journey.
Ahead, and below, a uniform lightness as if the trees suddenly ended and there was just a void beyond, nothing he could focus on. He felt about to tip over the edge of the world. Three more leaps and they would be horizontal once more, standing upright on a small sandy beach. Ed managed it. David misjudged the angle and landed face down in the sand.
He looked up, spitting out the dry crunching, gritty sand. A small boat bounced around in the breaking waves, its bow facing towards the shore. Standing in front of it, and holding a rope as if controlling an unbroken horse, he could just make out in the darkness Hone’s amused grin.
David hesitated. Shit! The last time he had seen the huge Maori was in the rear view mirror picking himself up from the dusty road where he had been left to find his own way back to civilisation. What was he doing here? Was it a trap? Why had Ed betrayed him? It must have been some consolation to him that it was now David lying spread–eagled, about to pick himself up, and shake the sand from his hair, eyes and ears, with some semblance of dignity.
Ed was already walking straight into the sea, shoes and jeans still in place. He shook Hone’s free hand, said something the breaking waves completely drowned out, then catching the crest from an incoming wave, pulled himself over the side of the boat.
David paused, hopping around, trying to casually slip off his shoes and socks. It was all right for Ed - he could go home and get a dry pair. Maybe he should keep them on and run back into the trees? The next problem, standing as he now was on the high water mark, were the shards of crushed razor sharp sea shells beneath his bare feet. With shoes in one hand and socks in the other, he made an undignified zigzag dash towards the smooth wet sand and into the surf.
Hone laughed. “How’s it goin’, Dave? Bit of a mission getting this far, eh, Bro’?”
David wasn’t sure if he meant the last four days or the last four metres. The important thing was the tone had been friendly.
Trying to judge the incoming surf as he had seen Ed do so expertly before, he heaved himself aboard on an incoming wave, deftly avoiding the hard metallic hull that was rising up to meet his flailing body as he hauled himself over the side, landing face down on the wet deck.
The rumbling Mercury engine roared and a whoosh of white spume flew into the air as Hone expertly guided the small craft into deeper water before turning the bow to the west and out into the blackness of the Hauraki Gulf.
David negotiated his way to the bench at the stern, desperately trying not to lose his balance once more as the aluminium
hull rhythmically bounced and thumped through the waves.
Ed shouted above the combined howl of engine, wind and sea, “We need to get to the mainland as soon as possible. Our rendezvous point is on a rocky bit of coastline and it’s hard enough to negotiate in daylight, let alone pitch black.”
Bumping westwards for over an hour, Hone finally eased back on the throttle. The small boat was once more at the mercy of the waves and, within four hundred metres of landfall, barely visible through the thickening darkness of night that had now enveloped them.
Hone cut the engine and they drifted the last twenty metres towards the shore. The rolling motion abruptly stopped as the metallic hull grazed against the shallow sandy seabed. Each wave lifted them, supporting the vessel’s weight before dropping it heavily back on to the sand as the boat was hoisted closer to the beach.
Ed disappeared over the edge and into the sea, taking the painter with him. He pulled the boat through the water, looking back, judging the wave, using its force to haul the boat out of the sea and onto the sand. Finally it tilted to one side, beached, and David followed Ed onto the wet sand.
They were in a small bay, enclosed on three sides by steep wooded cliffs, just like those they had left behind on the island. Now they had stopped moving, the wind had died down and David could feel his face glowing despite the cool evening air.
