Cyanide Games: A Peter Tanner Thriller

by Richard Beasley

  ‘A lawyer there? Are they working on – ?’

  ‘Lisa,’ he said firmly. ‘No.’

  Two nights before, Nadine Bellouard had worked late, until after all the lawyers on her floor had left. As a partner’s senior assistant, she had access to the accounts system. She searched for Citadel files, and printed the bills he’d asked her to. She put them in an envelope, and on the way home in a cab, dropped them on Tanner’s front door step.

  Lisa paused and looked at him and eventually nodded. ‘So, this person doesn’t work on the file?’

  He ignored the question. ‘Going into the BBK computer system leaves a trail – whoever has taken over Joe’s Citadel files might notice that. But access to the billing system – no one would bother checking that.’

  Lisa started flicking over pages. ‘So, where do I . . . ?’

  ‘I’ve highlighted them.’ He turned a couple of pages and found the first relevant entry. ‘Here – Peruse draft of Campbell report. You see the date?’

  Lisa nodded.

  ‘Then here – Discuss report with Campbell. Then Discuss hydro report with Kerr.’

  ‘Kerr?’

  ‘Anthony Kerr. He’s Citadel’s deputy general counsel in Australia. I did Google searches of Kerr-BBK and Kerr-Citadel, and came up with him.’

  ‘So Joe was discussing this report with in-house legal at Citadel?’

  He nodded, and started turning pages. ‘He also had a conference call with Robert Spry.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘Spry is the global general counsel.’ Tanner refilled their wine glasses, then looked at Lisa. She was running her eye down each page, reading the highlighted entries.

  ‘Gaby’s report caused quite a stir.’

  He nodded. ‘Did she ever mention speaking to Joe?’

  She shook her head. ‘A lawyer talking to a hydrogeologist about a hydro report – I get that if it’s about a court case. But this is for an environmental assessment. What’s – ?’

  ‘Maybe Citadel told him to call her after they’d seen her report.’

  ‘And say what? Threaten her?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I only know they had a report saying their mine would kill the river. That would make it impossible to get an approval from the government – at least for a mine of the size Citadel needed.’

  ‘Needed?’

  ‘They’re in a joint venture with this Chinese company, North Shanxi. Investment funds buy shares in them, they raise capital, they borrow from big banks –they’ll have promoted this project in the market. Citadel’s probably told the market an approval for this gold mine is a sure bet. Privately, they’re probably saying they’ve got some of our politicians on the payroll. You can bet your last dollar they wouldn’t have been telling anyone they’d end up with a water report that says a river’s going to be killed, or there’s a risk the mine won’t get approved.’

  ‘So if it’s not approved, it hurts more than Citadel?’

  He smiled. ‘Apart from anyone else, I doubt the Chinese like being disappointed.’ He turned several pages. ‘Read that.’

  It was an entry for an all-day attendance for Joe Cheung, including travel time, for another BBK file for a matter involving Citadel.

  ‘What – I’m not sure what to make of that,’ she said.

  ‘Look at the next entry.’ It too said All-Day Attendance, as did the next two days. ‘That’s Joe on Tovosevu Island,’ he said.

  ‘How do you – ?’

  ‘The dates. Joe’s wife told me when he went there, within a few days. This is from a file he’d had open for years for the gold mine on Tovosevu Island.’ He turned a few more pages over. He’d highlighted an entry that said Peruse AW report. Before it was a short telephone attendance with Anthony Kerr.

  ‘Anne Warren report?’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘The discussions about it start a few weeks after Joe went to the island. Not long after, Warren is killed in Port Moresby. Not Tovosevu, but still PNG.’

  She shook her head. ‘The AW report is something to do with Tovosevu?’

  ‘There’s a reasonable proximity between the report and Joe’s trip to the island.’

  ‘You know what Anne does? I mean, she was an ecotoxicolgist. She could be running tests – checking that mine waste isn’t leaking into the environment somewhere.’

  ‘Why would Joe need to be there for that?’

  ‘You tell me.’ She undid the clip holding up her hair. It was long and black, almost blue. ‘You think all this has something to do with Joe and what’s happened to him in China?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m guessing this gold mine is high stakes for Citadel. A gold mine would be a much more important asset than a coal mine at the moment. He paused for a few moments. ‘There’s something you can do for me.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Can you find out who Campbell’s and Warren’s friends were?’

  ‘I’ve tried with Gaby. The people I spoke to didn’t know where she’d gone or why, or they wouldn’t say.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘My age. Thirty-five at most, I’d guess.’

  ‘Not married?’

  Lisa shook her head.

  ‘Parents?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Was she from here?’

  ‘I never asked.’

  He nodded. ‘Maybe I’ll get my investigator on this.’

  She looked at him for a moment. ‘I want to be involved in this, Pete. This is part of my client’s case – the action group’s opposition to the gold mine. How do we . . . ?’

  He smiled. ‘We’ve already committed criminal offences over this, Lisa,’ he said. ‘We’re already both involved.’

  25

  It was as though Dan was starting kindergarten again, Tanner thought. Back then there had been a tiny band of leg between the top of his socks and the bottom of his shorts. By the time he reached the end of primary school, he was tall and thin, a giant next to the kids in kindergarten. Now, walking through the gates of his new school, he looked like a child again, dwarfed by the stature of the older boys.

  Tanner’s phone rang as Dan disappeared into the throng. He put the call on speaker and pulled his car away from the school.

  ‘You won’t like this.’ It was Jane Ross, his co-counsel in the Matheson case.

  ‘Won’t like what?’

  ‘Klaudia Dabrowska’s unlikely to make the committal.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s got some ear infection. Mastoiditis. She can’t fly.’

  ‘What the hell is mastoiditis?’

  ‘I knew you’d ask,’ she said. ‘It’s a middle-ear infection. In bad cases it can get into the small bones and cause perforation of the eardrum. You can’t fly with it. They’re saying she wouldn’t be well enough even for a video link at the moment.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘Charles just received a letter from the DPP.’

  ‘Do they have a medical report?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I’m calling Aitken,’ Tanner said, and hung up.

  The committal hearing was to determine whether Justin Matheson would stand trial for the murder of Elena Mancini. All a prosecutor has to establish on committal is that, based on the evidence, a properly instructed jury could convict the accused, not that it would. It’s not a high hurdle, and many committals are done purely on police statements, with no oral evidence. In some cases, Tanner didn’t want to cross-examine a witness at committal. He’d hold his fire for trial rather than giving them a practice run beforehand.

  There was no doubt that Matheson was going to be committed to stand trial for the murder of Elena Mancini – the DNA alone would see to that. Tanner had decided not to cross-examine John Richter at the committal. He’d wait for the trial. He wanted to take a look at Klaudia Dabrowska, though. If Matheson was telling the truth, she was lying; he’d have to accuse her of that in front of a jury. He wanted to see how
she responded to pressure, how she handled slow questioning or fast, how she reacted depending on his demeanour. He wanted to know if she’d come across as sympathetic, or as someone hiding something.

  The prosecutor assigned to the Matheson case was Richard Aitken SC – one of the most experienced prosecutors in the DPP’s office. Tanner and he had clashed in several cases over the years; they only spoke to each other when they had to, and the usual pleasantries were dispensed with.

  ‘What’s mastoiditis, Richard?’ Tanner asked as soon as his call was put through.

  ‘It’s an infection of –’

  ‘How long’s she had it?’

  ‘– the ear canal. Do you want to listen or talk over the top of me? We’ve been told it’s serious. It looks like she’ll need surgery.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘Her doctor.’

  ‘What doctor?’

  Aitken sighed. ‘One of the solicitors here has dealt with this, not me. The bottom line is, she can’t fly.’

  ‘My guy can’t get a fair trial without her at committal.’

  ‘Rubbish. You know you can . . .’

  ‘Where’s your medical report?’

  ‘We’re getting one. Her father’s unwell too, we mentioned that –’

  ‘Unless he’s saying he was with Richter too, I don’t want to cross-examine Mr Dabrowska.’

  ‘She can’t fly. Think about video link if you have to.’

  ‘I want to see this girl.’

  ‘So you can frighten her?’

  ‘Has she got something to be frightened about, Rich?’

  ‘I’m due in court, Peter. Goodbye.’

  • • •

  When Tanner opened his front door that night to let Lisa Ilves in, she was carrying a bottle of wine. She had her hair down, and was wearing a black dress, which ended just north of her knees.

  ‘You didn’t have to bring this,’ he said, taking the wine.

  ‘I can only have a glass,’ she said, holding up her car keys.

  ‘Say hello to Lisa, Dan,’ he said when they reached the open-plan kitchen-living room.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘How was school? Day one, right?’

  ‘Yeah. Good.’

  ‘That’s the most you’ll get,’ Tanner said. He noticed Dan looking at Lisa’s shoulder, which was uncovered. ‘It’s not polite to stare, Dan.’

  ‘What is that?’ the boy said.

  ‘CO2,’ Lisa said. ‘Being eliminated.’

  Dan smiled. ‘Cool.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It’s about climate change, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re against it, right?’

  ‘Of course. Aren’t you?’

  ‘Sure. We did a project on it at my old school.’

  ‘That’s a longer conversation than I’ve had with him for a year,’ Tanner said. ‘Go watch TV for half an hour, then read.’

  When Dan left, Tanner offered Lisa a seat at the kitchen table. He opened the wine she’d brought and poured it into two large shiraz glasses. He sat down next to her.

  ‘What do you have to tell me?’

  ‘I ended up getting contact details for two colleagues of hers that sound like they were friends. She went to university with both of them, and worked with one. The guy’s name is Matthew Durham. He works for the Commonwealth Department of Conservation. He’s a water guy based in Canberra. The woman she worked with is called Kate McDonald. She’s at KEC Group – they’re a competitor of GreenDay. Anyway, the guy in Canberra was guarded. He said he didn’t know where she was. I think he was lying, though.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He wanted to know precisely what I wanted to speak to her about, what project it was, why I needed her, not someone else. All that, then he says he doesn’t know where she is, and doesn’t have a number.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I used client privilege as a cover. I think he knows more. Just gut feeling.’

  ‘And the woman?’

  ‘She was suspicious at first, but warmed up. I told her about some of the other cases I’d done. Anyway, she said she thought Gaby was travelling in Europe.’

  ‘Is she in contact with her?’

  ‘She said she got an email a few months ago.’

  ‘She didn’t give you the address?’

  ‘I asked. She wouldn’t.’

  ‘So now what?’

  ‘I told her Gaby and I had worked on a case together – which is more or less true. I asked her to contact Gaby for me, and to tell her I had to talk to her about something for a case. She eventually said she’d try, when I pleaded.’

  ‘That’s progress, I guess,’ he said.

  She shook her head. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Kate called me about an hour ago.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She said she’d emailed Gaby, and Gaby said she knew what it was about, but couldn’t help.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  Tanner took a sip of wine, and sighed. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘at least we know she’s alive.’

  ‘Any thoughts?’

  ‘My guess is that Citadel has made it clear to Gabriella Campbell that she and her report aren’t to be seen or heard of until the Bageeyn River gold mine is approved and operational. What do you think?’

  She nodded. ‘You think they’ve bought her off?’

  ‘Or scared her off.’ Tanner picked up his wine glass and swirled the wine around. ‘This Kate – what’s her last name?’

  ‘McDonald.’

  He stood and left the room, and came back holding his laptop. ‘You said she works for the KEC Group?’ The KEC Group had a website detailing the services they offered, and a list of their offices. Head office was in Sydney, but they had two others in Western Australia, one near the Galilee basin in Queensland, and another in Newcastle near the Hunter Valley. ‘There she is,’ he said after a few moments. Kate McDonald was listed in the water team. There was a short biography and CV, and a small photo.

  Lisa looked at him reading from Kate McDonald’s profile. ‘What are you going to do, Pete?’

  ‘Make Kate say no to a face.’

  26

  While Tanner was in his car early the next morning, heading north on the Pacific Highway, he got a call from Charles Porter. The office of the Director of Public Prosecutions had just emailed a medical report on the condition preventing Klaudia Dabrowska from flying from London to Sydney for Justin Matheson’s committal.

  ‘She’s got acute mastoiditis, as they claimed in their letter.’

  ‘How’s she being treated?’

  ‘Oral antibiotics failed to clear up the infection. Currently intravenous antibiotics – may need surgery to drain fluids from the ear.’

  ‘How long’s this all meant to take?’

  ‘It’s not specific. “Can’t fly for the foreseeable future,” it says.’

  ‘What’s the doctor’s name?’

  ‘Dr Simon Anthony.’

  ‘He’s some kind of ENT specialist?’

  Porter paused for a moment, and Tanner could hear him turning over a page. ‘I don’t think so. He’s MBBS.’

  ‘A GP? Any mention of a specialist?’

  ‘Not in this report.’

  Tanner thought for a moment. ‘Write a letter to the DPP,’ he said. ‘Tell them we want a report from an ear specialist or we’ll be taking this to court. The doctor she sees for her sniffles and pap smears isn’t good enough.’

  ‘You want me to word it like that?’

  ‘Use your imagination.’

  • • •

  Tanner pulled up in front of the Newcastle office of the KEC Group at ten. He’d left home at eight, and had beaten the Friday traffic that later that day would be heading north for the weekend. The office was open plan, and as he walked into the reception area, he spotted Kate McDonald in the middle of the main room, leaning over the cubicle of another worker to talk to her.


  ‘My name’s Peter Tanner,’ he said loudly to the receptionist. ‘I’m here to talk to Kate McDonald. She’s right behind you.’

  McDonald looked up as Tanner spoke. She straightened and slowly walked over to the reception desk.

  Tanner immediately handed her a card. ‘I’m working on a case with Lisa Ilves. Can I take up five minutes of your time?’

  McDonald looked at Tanner blankly, then at his card. ‘You couldn’t call?’

  ‘I thought I’d come and see you.’

  ‘I’m busy. I’ve got a flight to catch at –’

  ‘Five minutes, Kate. Let me buy you a coffee. I’ve driven up from Sydney this morning.’

  McDonald looked at Tanner’s card as if something mysterious was written on it. ‘You should’ve called.’

  ‘I promise,’ he said. ‘No more than five minutes.’

  She took him to a conference room and shut the door.

  ‘This is new?’ he said, as he took a seat at the table. ‘These offices?’

  ‘We’ve been here a year.’

  ‘You live nearby?’

  She nodded. ‘On week days. My partner works in Sydney,’ she said. ‘I spend most weekends there.’

  ‘You’re heading to a work site?’

  ‘Up north. Queensland.’

  ‘Some big mines starting up there?’ he said.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘The price of coal’s not great at the moment. There’s a lot of community concern about CSG.’

  ‘Should the community be concerned?’

  ‘You’re not here to ask me about coal-seam gas, are you?’

  He shook his head. ‘Lisa spoke to you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Gaby Campbell’s a friend of yours? Lisa talked to you about her report? The one Citadel buried?’

  ‘I can’t talk to you about that.’

  He smiled. ‘Can I tell you a story?’

  ‘Will it take more than three minutes? You said five, and it’s been two.’

  ‘What I’m going to tell you, I want you to tell your friend.’

  ‘I can’t reach her.’

  ‘You passed on a message from her to Lisa.’

  ‘I can’t always reach her.’

  ‘Well, when you can,’ he said, ‘I want you to pass something on.’

  She sighed, but said nothing.

  ‘I have a client called Joseph Cheung. He’s in a jail in Shanghai. You may have read about him in the papers?’