Cyanide Games: A Peter Tanner Thriller

by Richard Beasley

  ‘I can’t answer either question.’

  ‘Why the hell not, Li?’

  ‘Joe is my client, Peter. We are in my country. He did not authorise me to breach his confidence, and I cannot discuss the evidence with you in a case like this.’

  ‘What’s the point of this meeting, then?’

  Li looked at Tanner for a long moment. ‘Joe told me to ask you to trust him,’ he said. ‘He also wants you to trust me.’

  ‘Trust you? I don’t know a thing about you.’

  ‘This is what I have been asked to say to you.’

  Tanner sighed, and drained the last of his wine. ‘Another?’

  Li gestured towards his glass, which was still half full. Tanner ordered two more anyway.

  ‘Have the prosecutors served their evidence yet?’

  ‘Some. I expect to have the balance soon.’

  Tanner nodded. ‘When you get the whole case, will you . . . if the case seems thin . . . Would you tell Joe not to plead guilty then? Will you at least try and point out to the prosecutors that their witness might be a liar, or just plain mistaken?’

  Li shook his head slowly. ‘Joe intends to plead guilty. If he changes his mind, I’m sure you’ll be told. For now, though, it appears that my job will be to attempt to persuade the court to minimise his sentence.’

  ‘Forget his instructions,’ Tanner said, anger in his voice. ‘If the case looked weak, what would your advice be?’

  ‘Joe’s instructions are clear, Peter. I cannot say it any other way.’

  ‘Is the case based on the word of one witness? A witness who’s appeared out of nowhere after three years? Does it come down to that?’

  ‘You know that I must not say.’

  Tanner leant back in the chair and shook his head. He looked out the windows for a few moments, before turning back to face Li. ‘I’m going to ask our consulate to seek permission from your government to let me look at the evidence against Joe. I’ll sign a confidentiality undertaking, or whatever they want me to. Please, can you have him wait until I’ve at least made that request?’

  Li paused again, before nodding slowly. ‘Joe’s case will not be before the court for some months yet. I can ask him if he wants to delay indicating that he will plead guilty until all the evidence is provided.’

  Tanner leant forwards in his chair again. ‘I’d really like to talk to you about that evidence, Li. I’d like the name of the man who said Joe offered to sell his client’s secrets.’

  Li sat impassively.

  ‘We’re not being listened to here, are we?’

  Li said something in Chinese.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Li smiled. ‘It means the wine is very good’

  PART TWO

  15

  Her name was Lisa Ilves.

  He recognised her from a photo on her firm’s website. Her dark hair was pulled back, lifting her cheekbones with it. She had feline features. She was wearing a black jacket, and leather jeans suitable for riding a Harley. She was thin and tall. When she sat and crossed her legs on the bar stool, there were angles everywhere.

  ‘Where’s your name from? Ilves?’ Tanner asked after he’d been given a drinks list. They were in a wine bar he’d suggested in Hunter Street, near where she worked.

  ‘My grandfather’s Latvian,’ she said. ‘He came out to help build the Snowy dam.’

  Tanner nodded. ‘My father’s from Sweden.’

  ‘Wine?’

  ‘Red.’

  ‘Any preference?’

  ‘Shiraz.’

  ‘There’s a Margaret River shiraz on the list that’s said to have hints of blackberry and leather. How’s that for a combination?’

  She shrugged. ‘Don’t ask the sommelier on my account.’

  ‘I can see you like leather,’ he said, looking at her legs.

  ‘I got them online last week.’

  ‘Your generation is killing retail.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s restricted to people my age.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘My divorced colleagues get their new spouses online.’

  She smiled. ‘That’s how I met my last boyfriend.’

  ‘I hope you buy books in stores,’ he said, and then turned to order the wine. He looked in the mirror behind the bar, and saw that she was watching him.

  ‘I was here about a month ago,’ she said. ‘Almost the same seats.’

  ‘Did you meet him online?’

  She shook her head. ‘He spent most of lunch looking at himself.’

  ‘Couldn’t have been a member of the criminal bar then.’

  ‘A political advisor.’

  Tanner turned to her. ‘Even with all that online choice?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘The last date I went on was with a prosecutor,’ he said. ‘That didn’t work out either.’

  When the wine came he picked up the menu. ‘I’m starving,’ he said. ‘Do you want to eat?’

  ‘Something quick.’

  He gave her the menu.

  ‘I’ll have a burger.’

  ‘You’re divorced?’ she asked, after he’d ordered two burgers. ‘Assuming the prosecutor isn’t your wife?’

  ‘She died six years ago.’

  Lisa paused. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was a logical question.’

  She took off her jacket. She was wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt, and on her right shoulder were two red circles, each with the letter O in the middle. They sat on either side of a larger black circle, which had her skin as letter C in the middle. Drawn over the top of the whole thing was a giant X.

  ‘What’s that?’

  She smiled. ‘The enemy.’

  ‘The enemy?’

  ‘Of the planet.’

  ‘You’ve got a CO2 molecule tattooed on your shoulder?’

  She nodded.

  ‘When did you get it?’

  ‘About three years ago,’ she said. ‘A thirtieth birthday present.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘Myself.’

  ‘Is it your only tattoo?’

  ‘I have others.’

  ‘Do you disclose that in your online dating profile?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are the other tattoos greenhouse gas molecules?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  She sighed. ‘Do you want to talk about my tattoos, Peter, or do you want to talk about Citadel Resources?’

  Lisa Ilves was a new partner at a law firm called Corcorans. They were class action specialists. For several years she’d been acting for various community groups who were opposed to the grant of mine approvals around the state.

  When he returned from Shanghai, Tanner did some more research on the exploration licence granted to Citadel that had Joe Cheung in prison. He found a community action group opposed to mining in that region. On their website the group listed Corcorans as their legal advisors. He also found an article in a legal journal and some newspaper pieces about Corcorans advising other action groups who opposed mine approvals in other parts of the state, including two others involving Citadel. Corcorans couldn’t provide Tanner with the answer as to why Cheung was in prison, but they might at least have more information about where the projects were at, and what work Joe might have been doing for them.

  Within a year, Lisa told him, the government was expected to grant development approval to Citadel for three new mines. It was seeking approval for what would be one of the world’s largest gold mines about halfway between the towns of Cowra and Orange in western New South Wales. There was also a proposed new coal mine in the Upper Hunter Valley. In the far north of the state, not far from the Queensland border, Citadel had paid two hundred and fifty million dollars for a vast exploration licence for coal and CSG – the same EL that Joe Cheung was accussed of seeking a bribe over.

  ‘So if the government grants approval for these mines, your action group will take it and Citadel to court?’ Tanner
asked.

  ‘We lobby the government not to approve the mines in the first instance. We just think that’s a battle we can’t win.’

  ‘Too much money at stake?’

  ‘For Citadel, and for the government in royalties.’

  ‘Do these groups pay you for lobbying?’

  She shook her head. ‘We believe in the cause. It’s why I’m at a place like Corcorans. And there’s a long-term strategy as well. These mines are bound to end up causing irreparable damage of some kind – either to the environment, or to human health, or maybe both.’

  ‘You want to be on the ground floor for any class actions?’

  ‘We’ll earn the right for that.’

  When the burgers arrived, Lisa picked hers up and took an enormous bite. The mayo and meat juice ran down her chin. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  Tanner offered her his napkin. ‘Good?’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘What’s your pleading look like?’ he asked. ‘Say if this Hunter coal mine is approved?’

  ‘We’ll argue that the approval shouldn’t have been made on its merits, and that it’s legally invalid as well.’

  ‘Different concepts, right?’

  ‘We’d argue an approval has no merit on the facts. Invalidity would require us to prove some error of law in the decision-making process. Either way we win, although it’s better to win the first way.’

  ‘Because the legal error can be cured, and the government just grants approval again?’

  She nodded. ‘If a court finds on the facts that the mine shouldn’t have been approved – say for a human health or environmental reason – it’s much harder for a government to justify approving it at a later time.’

  ‘And why shouldn’t the mine be approved on the merits?’

  ‘I can give you twenty reasons, but one will do: dust.’

  ‘Dust?’ He waited as she chewed another large bite from her burger.

  ‘The whole area is full of particle pollution,’ she finally said.

  ‘Because of the other coal mines there?’

  She nodded. ‘We’re talking cumulative impacts. A new mine will add coal-dust pollution to air that’s already over-saturated with particles.’

  ‘The straw that breaks the camel’s back.’

  ‘The camel was flattened years ago.’

  ‘What about this proposed gold mine?’

  ‘It’ll have to be the edited version,’ she said, looking at the time on her phone. ‘I’ve got to be somewhere in half an hour.’

  ‘Did you meet him online?’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘Another wine?’

  ‘You go ahead.’

  Tanner caught the bartender’s attention, who refilled his glass.

  ‘It’ll be one of the biggest gold and copper mines in the world,’ she said. ‘Underground workings, and a huge open pit as well.’

  ‘That means how big?’

  ‘Maybe two million ounces of gold per year, and nearly a hundred million tonnes of copper. They want approval to mine for forty years.’

  ‘And the edited version of what’s wrong with that is what?’

  ‘Water,’ she said. ‘There’s a river running right through the proposed mining lease area called the Bageeyn.’

  ‘Hence the Bageeyn River Action Group. I read about them when I came across your firm.’

  She nodded. ‘The mine will kill it. It’ll also take out most of the aquifers that farmers use in the area.’

  ‘How does a mine kill a river?’

  ‘The Bageeyn’s vulnerable. It’s becoming almost intermittent. Some years it has a constant flow down its entire length, but occasionally now it nearly dries up in some sections. There’s always a subterranean flow, though. This mine will kill the river, and all the wildlife that depends on it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You don’t know much about gold mines, do you?’

  ‘You’re about to tell me a lot of water’s involved.’

  ‘Sixty to seventy million litres a day. They’re saying it will be half that, but they’re lying. They’re also saying the river will survive, and the drawdown the mine will cause on local aquifers will recover, but they’re lying about all of that too.’

  ‘Who’s lying?’

  ‘Citadel. Its experts. The government’s expert.’

  ‘Lying is a strong word.’

  ‘Citadel’s experts are guns for hire. They’re like insurance doctors in personal injury cases. Nothing’s ever wrong with the plaintiff.’

  ‘Surely the government uses –’

  ‘You think they can’t be paid off?’

  Tanner shook his head, and smiled a bemused smile. ‘I’m assuming you can prove that allegation?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That won’t help your court case.’

  ‘Citadel knows the mine will kill the river.’

  ‘They know it?’

  She looked at him. ‘I’m not sure I can say any more.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve got client confidences to respect. Privilege?’

  ‘We could consider this a conference. I’m a lawyer, after all.’

  She smiled faintly. ‘You’re not retained by our clients to give advice, Peter. This is beyond the public record.’

  ‘Could what you’re about to say have something to do with Joe Cheung?’

  Now she paused. ‘I don’t know,’ she finally said. ‘I’ve only been thinking about that since you called.’

  ‘The corruption they’ve accused him of –’ Tanner said, shaking his head, ‘– there is no way Joe would do it. He’s looking at ten to twenty years. Please. I promise you, anything you say to me, I’ll keep between us. I’d consider myself bound like you were one of my clients.’

  She drained the last of what was left in her glass, and put it back on the bar. ‘Citadel had a report for their environmental assessment that told them the mine would kill the river.’

  ‘What do you mean, “had”?’

  ‘It went missing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It, and the hydrogeologist who prepared it.’

  ‘Is this a conspiracy theory, Lisa, or do – ?’

  ‘This gold mine is vital to them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They’re not making the money from coal they once were. A gold and copper mine is a different story. It’s very important to Citadel’s future bottom line.’

  ‘And how do you know this report went missing?’

  She hesitated for a few moments before answering. ‘We had an informant. Two of them.’

  He paused and looked at her. ‘People at Citadel?’

  ‘A hydrogeologist who worked at a firm that was engaged by them.’

  ‘And this whistleblower and his report have – what, vanished?’

  ‘It was a woman. And yes, she’s left.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you have a copy of the report?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, taking another sip of wine. ‘You said you had two informants?’

  She nodded. ‘There was another scientist who knew about it, but she wasn’t working directly on it.’

  ‘And has she vanished?’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘She was killed in Port Moresby.’

  He leant towards her. ‘I saw – was this on the news a few months back? Some gang attack?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was she working in PNG?’

  ‘I don’t know. Citadel have mines there.’

  When Melissa had told him that Cheung had been to a PNG island not long before his arrest, Tanner did some research on what mines Citadel owned there. Several came up, including a gold mine on Tovosevu Island. ‘Do you know anything about a mine called Tovosevu?’ he asked. ‘It’s on a PNG island.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘What kind of scientist was the w
oman who was killed?’

  ‘An ecotoxicologist.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘She checks water around mines for pollution, among other things.’

  ‘This report,’ he said, ‘the one that went missing about the river – would someone like Joe have seen it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Would he – ?’

  ‘Peter?’ she said. ‘You can’t talk to anyone about this. When the informants spoke to me, we were probably all breaking the law.’ She looked at him and he nodded.

  ‘Is there anything else about this gold mine case you can tell me?’ he said.

  She put her jacket back on. ‘Maybe,’ she said softly, ‘but I have to go now.’

  ‘You haven’t said anything about the CSG mine yet.’

  ‘You’ve heard of fracking?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Do some reading, if you’re interested. Have a look at how much water is needed, and what kind of substances can end up in aquifers. While you’re at it, do some research about Citadel.’

  ‘Why?’

  She got off her stool and stood next to him. ‘It’s not just about coal dust and water. I don’t – I don’t know what your friend has seen or heard, or why he was arrested, or what he’s done. His client, though, is an organised criminal. They’re the mafia of the corporate world.’

  ‘I’m going to need you to explain that more fully to me.’

  ‘Citadel shouldn’t be allowed to operate here. Our governments know they pollute in other countries on a catastrophic scale. They lost the moral right to mine any of our resources years ago.’ She shook her head slightly. ‘When I said that a hydrogeologist and her report had gone missing, and that I thought another expert had been corrupted, you looked at me like I was crazy. Ask your friend in prison in China if I’m crazy. They kill people, Peter. Native landholders, union leaders in poor countries – people who stand in their way. Lying about water tests is small time for these guys.’ She put out her hand to say goodbye.

  ‘You’re going to need a barrister eventually, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘If any of these cases get to court?’

  She stared at him. ‘We don’t pay the money you’d be used to.’

  ‘I’m in our profession for love.’

  She grabbed her bag and looked at him for a long moment. ‘I know you’re a heavyweight in your area, Peter, but you’re not a planning lawyer. You don’t do environmental cases, or class actions. How would I tell the clients we should use someone who specialises in crime?’