‘Tevita, are you okay? You’re not getting sick, are you?’
He beamed at being singled out by his hero. ‘No, Joe. I’m tough. You know. Where you been, Joe? I don’t see you around the streets all week.’
‘You don’t miss much, do you, Tevita?’ The boy looked even more pleased with himself. ‘You’re right. I’ve got a case in the hills. I’ve been up there a lot. But I came back so I could come to training today.’
Another cheer went up. Musudroka walked in with another volunteer cop, looking surprised to see Horseman already there. ‘Glad you could make it, sir.’
‘Right, let’s get these champions moving,’ Horseman shouted. ‘DC Musudroka will lead off round the oval. Who can overtake him?’
Musudroka grabbed a ball and set off at an easy lope, increasing his pace when any boy passed him. Horseman marked the finish line with the kit bags. Musudroka touched down, then leapt up, waving his arms in triumph. All the boys threw themselves over the imaginary line, each scoring a try in his imagination.
‘Don’t wind yourselves before you get started boys. Twenty push-ups now. Let’s grow those shoulders! One…’
Not all the boys could make the twenty, but each tried his utmost. That’s what Horseman found rewarding and yes, even touching about these street kids. They had rough lives, some kicked out of their homes, some beaten or neglected. Marginally criminal. Yet show them some positive discipline, admit them to the magic circle of a rugby team, and they would do anything for you, anything.
‘Right, Shiners. Form your passing lines, four in a row. Up to the centre line, then back. Steady pace now. Stay in your lines!’ The two volunteers jogged along beside the first and last lines, yelling instructions. The jagged lines started to straighten.
His phone rang. ‘Bula, Josefa. I got your messages.’
How happy he was to hear her low, firm voice. ‘Bula vinaka, Mum. How are you?’
‘Io, I’m well, as always. More to the point, how are you Joe? Is anything the matter?’
‘Fine too. I’ve got a demanding case up in the hills. The timing couldn’t be worse. I hope you can help me, Mum.’
‘Happy to help, son. Is there some information you’re seeking?’ Her voice betrayed her eagerness. She’d been delighted to supply a vital piece of information in his first murder case, on Paradise Island resort.
‘Not yet.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘I have a visitor arriving at Nadi tomorrow. A friend from the States. She’s got three hours to wait until her flight to Suva. I hope you may be free to meet her and look after her a bit, put her on the next flight, and so on.’
He’d managed to get it out. He knew what was coming next.
‘Of course I will, Joe. Nothing I’d like better. But son, why are you telling me this now? With a few days’ notice, I could rally the family around, put on a proper welcome, maybe a lovo at your sister’s here. She could stay overnight at least, we could give her a whirlwind tour of the west before sending her on to Suva!’
‘Sir?’ Musudroka enquired. All the boys were back, looking expectant.
‘Excuse me a moment, Mum.’
He yelled at the boys. ‘Twice more up and down, Shiners. There’s nothing more important than coordinated passing. DC Musudroka will let you try it faster when you’re more accurate. Off you go, now.’
‘Sorry. I’m at training, as you probably heard.’
‘Io son, I’m proud of you for helping those rascals, you know. But I do need to know all about your friend. For a start, what’s her name?’
‘Melissa Martini. She’s a physical therapist at the rehab centre at Portland Hospital where I had my knee operation.’
‘Oh good, a physio, a fellow health professional. We’ll have a lot to talk about. I like her already. But I surmise she’s more than your therapist if she’s chasing you all the way to Fiji!’
‘Mum, don’t tease, please. She’s not chasing me anywhere. And you wonder why I didn’t tell you? To avoid this interrogation, naturally.’
‘Now who’s teasing? Never mind, Joe. I’m sure Melissa Martini will tell me all I want to know tomorrow morning.’
‘She’ll probably be very tired. Go easy on her, Mum.’
‘My word, I hardly need instruction in how to look after guests, do I? Don’t worry son, I’ll give her the royal treatment.’
‘I know you will. Vinaka vakalevu. I’ll text you the flight numbers and times after training. I’m going back to the station for more desk work.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Nadi’s not LA. As you know, there are only three flights a week from the States. Julia’s friend works at the airport. I’ll get an update from her tonight. She’ll let me know about any delays, too.’
He couldn’t argue with the sensible Fijian way.
‘What I do need is a photo, however,’ Mrs Horseman continued. ‘I’ll make a sign with her name and hold that. But it would be good to recognise her. Julia has a laptop, so you could email Melissa’s photo to her. I suppose you’ve got your sister’s email address?’
‘Io, sounds like you’ve made a lot of progress with the digital revolution.’
Mrs Horseman snorted. ‘Digital revolution! These computer people do big-note themselves! They’re just machines aren’t they? Handy ones, too. Julia’s been showing me a few tricks.’
‘Great stuff! I’ll send her the photo when I get back to the office and I’ll text Melissa to let her know you’ll meet her. I’m really grateful and Melissa will be too. Sorry I didn’t let you know sooner.’
‘No surprise there! Moce, Joe.’
Horseman turned his attention back to the Shiners and the passing drill. Their improvement was undeniable.
He shouted encouragement. ‘Bula, bula, bula! That’s more like it. We’ll have ten minutes dodging practice before our break. If you improve, your reward will be a full-scale Sevens practice game. Any objections?’
Amid more hoots, the trainers sorted out the trios for dodging practice. Horseman felt content for the first time since he got the call about the murder at Tanoa village. Helping the boys? He hoped so, but most of all he was helping himself, so how could he take any credit?
***
When Horseman returned to the station, he sent the team home.
‘Get some sleep, and come back bright in the morning. Sergeant Singh and Tani will leave early for Tanoa. However, two extra experienced DCs from Financial Crimes are joining us. They’ll really speed our progress with these NLTB files. I’ll push on for a while here. Early as you like in the morning.’
He set himself up with his tray of files on his left, his meal of leftovers from the Shiners’ dinner parcels provided unfailingly by Dr Pillai. Horseman smiled when he thought how proud the boys were to belong to a team with their own doctor. The food was simple, but good. This evening it was boiled dalo and yams, a few little tomatoes, and some snake beans. A small handful of roughly chopped chicken, a real treat for the boys, completed the meal.
Horseman ate slowly, checking methodically through the file as the forensic accountant had instructed. Nothing to note so far. He suspected the accountant had reserved for his own team the files he thought were most likely to show irregularities. Nevertheless, they had been selected because they had passed through Vili’s hands or related to Tanoa and district lands, so each one had to be combed through. It was the thought that in these files may lie a clue to the motive for Vili’s murder that kept Horseman pushing through the tedium of the repetitive task.
He took a few minutes to make a mug of tea to drink with the bananas that Dr Pillai always supplied. He thought about Kelera’s whispered phone call to Singh. Kelera had sounded worried, maybe frightened. Did she know who the killer was, and did the killer suspect that she knew? It seemed the most likely reason for her fear.
Singh said Kelera might simply have been concerned about her lack of privacy in telephoning from the police post. He agreed, but had niggling doubts. He felt like rushing off to Tanoa this evening, but
knew that would be foolish and almost impossible. Singh had acted correctly. He was glad she’d confided in him about the hint of fear in Kelera’s voice, but he mustn’t overreact.
He’d just started on the file again, banana in hand and tea by his elbow, when in walked Superintendent Navala. He greeted Horseman with a nod and a tired smile. ‘Bula, Joe. Still at it?’
Horseman stood up and shrugged. ‘I won’t be able to put in a full day tomorrow, sir, so…’
‘Joe, you have leave tomorrow. We will carry on without you. We might even make progress, you never know.’
‘Io, sir.’ He smiled. ‘No one’s indispensable, least of all me.’
‘I’ve just come from the commissioner. He gave me a good dinner in his office suite too. Served by a constable at his conference table. A first for me. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?’
‘The good, please.’
‘We’ve got access to the Chatterjee files, at last.’
‘Fantastic, sir. I just about gave up on that one.’
‘Never give up, Joe, that’s the lesson from this. I was so mad I took it all the way to the top. I probably should have done that more often in my career. Would have been more successful.’
‘I’d say any police superintendent is by definition successful,’ Horseman said awkwardly.
‘Vinaka, but I realise that it’s only now, when I’m about to retire and have nothing to lose, that I have the courage of my convictions. That’s far from ideal, don’t you think?’
Horseman simply didn’t know how to respond to the super’s confiding in him like this.
‘But I’m embarrassing you, Joe.’
‘Not at all sir. I’m privileged to hear your thoughts. What about the bad news?’
‘Ah yes. When I said we have access, that’s literally it. You and me only. No digital files, just the paper. The files don’t leave my office. They’re the original files, no photocopies or scans to be made.’
‘Inconvenient, but I can live with that. I can’t wait. When do we get them?’
‘Eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I was promised that. If they’re not here then, I’ll give it half an hour, then go in person to collect them. I’d like that.’
What a boost to Horseman’s spirits! ‘I feel better already. I’ll finish the file I’m on now, then call it a night, sir. I’ll happily hand over the rest to the DCs from the Finance Unit tomorrow. I’ll be here before eight o’clock, just in case the top-secret Chatterjee files arrive early.’
He meant what he’d just said. He was honoured to have such a rare glimpse into the super’s personal thoughts on the eve of his retirement. He would help his boss all he could.
FRIDAY
25
They hadn’t expected Detective Inspector Chatterjee to deliver the files himself. But at twenty past eight, Reception called Horseman to announce DI Chatterjee’s arrival. Horseman met him at the top of the stairs.
He was equally surprised by Chatterjee’s appearance. The head of the Cultural Properties Unit was a slender man of Horseman’s own height, who seemed both too young and far too well-dressed to be a policeman. He couldn’t imagine Chatterjee in uniform. His long, straight hair was brushed back and tucked behind his ears. Some sort of gel must keep it in place. His neat moustache and goatee lengthened his face, while small, gold-rimmed spectacles added a scholarly quality. The linen suit and emerald shirt fitted him like a glove. A constable followed him, carrying just one archive box.
They introduced themselves. Chatterjee offered his hand but did not return Horseman’s firm grip.
‘Thank you for bringing the files yourself, Inspector Chatterjee. Superintendent Navala’s office is just along the hallway.’
‘As you know, I didn’t want them out of my safekeeping. I certainly won’t trust anyone else to deliver them. I may not ever see them again, the number of idiots about.’
Horseman knocked on the super’s door and made the introductions. A constable brought tea.
Navala began. ‘We do appreciate this opportunity for a briefing, Inspector. This is a bonus. What do you make of this rare kind of theft?’
‘It is unusual in Fiji, sir, I agree. But not so if we take the global view. I’m fortunate enough to have experience both in my unit’s counterpart in India, and in UNESCO in Paris. The scale of illicit trafficking of cultural property is mind-boggling, absolutely mind-boggling. How does US$ 6 billion a year sound to you?’
‘I agree, that’s mind-boggling, Inspector. How does our little Fiji Museum’s missing war club fit into this global scene?’ Navala asked.
‘Sir, because the club is the only item taken, indications are that it was stolen to order. The source of the order would be either a private collector in America, Europe, or even China, with a specific interest in pre-colonial Fijian weapons, or a crooked dealer who would sell the item on to legitimate museums keen to extend their collections in this area.’
‘What would the price of our club be, d’you know?’
Chatterjee inhaled audibly through his teeth. ‘Substantial, substantial, not only because of its quality, but its provenance. Cannibal weapons proven to have killed Christian missionaries carry a prurient attraction, inflating an already-high price due to rarity. It could be limited only by the collector’s degree of obsession.’
Horseman seriously doubted this, but knew nothing to contradict Chatterjee’s claims. This was a new world to him.
Navala continued. ‘Have you identified any dealers involved in smuggling Fijian artefacts?’
‘Not as such. That is why this case is so vital. It’s the first instance of theft of a cultural treasure since my unit was set up, that we’re aware of, that is. Who knows, it could be just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.’ He shook his head dolefully.
‘What has been the focus of your unit, generally speaking?’ Horseman asked.
Chatterjee leaned forward, eager. ‘I’ve set up a specific database to register stolen objects, on the model of the Italian Carabinieri. Theirs has two million entries. Two million! I’m liaising with the Fiji Museum, the university, and overseas institutions to develop a complete catalogue of Fiji cultural items held in their collections. This will take some time, but I’ve made a start.’ It was easy to see this last project was his true passion.
‘It’s exciting to take up a new challenge, isn’t it?’ Navala commented diplomatically. Chatterjee nodded.
Horseman indicated the archive box on the super’s cupboard. ‘Did you get any leads on the club from the museum staff?’
‘Sadly, no. Short of a confession, what can you do? No one saw anything amiss until the morning cleaner found the display case key in the lock.’
‘Did the SOCOs find anything—fingerprints?’
‘Negative again. I concluded it was a professional job. It all points to transborder trafficking.’
‘Did you explore possible local motives for the theft?’ Navala asked.
‘The only one is the greed motive. It’s galling that 98 percent of the final purchase price of stolen cultural property is retained by middlemen. Our petty thieves or corrupt museum staff are accepting small change in return for risking their liberty. That’s if locals did carry out the burglary.’
‘So, what did you concentrate on, Inspector?’ Navala persisted.
‘In line with my training, sir, I’ve approached the problem from the receiving end. I’ve set up alerts through Interpol and UNESCO databases. I scan acquisitions of overseas museums, particularly those with noted Oceania collections. I also scrutinise auction and sale catalogues of the major art dealers. If the club’s offered for sale, I’m confident I’ll learn about it quick smart.’ Chatterjee leaned back again and re-crossed his legs.
‘And if it was stolen to order by a private collector? The other possibility you told us about?’ Horseman continued.
Chatterjee frowned. ‘Yes, in that case, we’ll probably never see nor hear of it again.’ He paused. ‘Although strange re
coveries have occurred. Did you know 265 items from the museum in Corinth, Greece were seized from a fish warehouse in Miami last year? So, there is hope.’
He withdrew an A4 buff envelope from his briefcase and handed it to Navala. ‘This is a receipt for my files and an agreement about the conditions of their release. I understand you’ve already agreed to them verbally with the commissioner. Sir, could you please sign both copies and return one to me?’
‘Of course. I don’t fully understand the need for these conditions, but I will certainly comply with them as I have already agreed. I do understand the importance of your work, however.’
‘I’m grateful, Detective Superintendent. I hope the files help your own case. Please get in contact when you no longer need them, and I’ll come to pick them up.’ He offered his hand to both men, straightened his jacket, and departed.
The super shook his head. ‘Back to work on his database with one entry, I suppose. Do you think he brought them himself because he’s got so little to do, Joe?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, sir. Every database begins with a single entry, doesn’t it? Don’t forget there’s all that liaising with international stakeholders. He’d be burning the midnight oil with that.’ They both laughed, Horseman’s first good laugh of the week. Come to think of it, he’d never before witnessed the super laughing. Ever. It took a while for their tension-busting chuckle to subside.
‘I shouldn’t laugh, Joe. These days, I spend at least half my time in what’s called liaising. Glad I didn’t get any higher, or it’d be all my time, eh?’
‘Did you get Chatterjee’s story from the commissioner?’
‘I did. Father has a garage in Lautoka which does well. Seems he’s a graduate in fine arts and archaeology from New Zealand, and it’s true, he did an internship with UNESCO in Paris. He worked in India too, but not with the police. It was with the Delhi Museum. He was sussing out a job at our museum when he returned to visit his family. The South Pacific Forum has been talking about doing something about protecting cultural property in the region, so our commissioner thought he’d beat the forum to it, rather than follow some future policy they dictated. So he created the Cultural Properties Unit. Bright boy presents himself and gets taken on, reporting directly to the DC. Does his basic police training, then CID, and within the year he’s a DI and head of the unit. Which consists, by the way, of himself and two constables.’
Death by Tradition: Fiji Islands Mysteries 2 Page 13
