by Ray Smithies
‘Probably in the caravan park initially.’
Our discussion drew to an end and we parted company. I had further errands to run for Emily and there was work to be done when I returned to the park.
~ * ~
Later that afternoon Neville Bradbury had a meeting with Charlie and Sol at Broadbent Warehouse to discuss the fate of Brigit O’Neill. Both Bradbury and Sol chose to approach the matter with caution and not be too hasty in making rash decisions. By contrast, Charlie wanted her eliminated in fear that his cover may have been blown. Forever the hothead, he argued with the other two, pointing out that they weren’t directly affected.
‘You’ve got no balls! For Christ’s sake! She’s got to go because I don’t want these fuckin’ cops onto me!’ fumed Charlie.
‘You’re pissing me off, Charlie!’ Sol said. ‘Shut up and listen carefully. We’re running an operation here and the last thing we want is another murder. Brigit O’Neill’s circumstances are different because she’s employed by the syndicate. Her role may be minor but there’s still traceability. Therefore this needs to be dealt with in another way, do you understand?’
‘All right then!’ grumbled Charlie, looking like he’d just lost his best friend.
‘The regional head will provide the answer in due course. That decision’s not ours to make,’ continued Sol.
‘I took the liberty of phoning the hospital this morning,’ Bradbury said. ‘She’s already been discharged and gone home. I found her address listed in the white pages.’
‘Good, time now to contact the boss,’ said Sol.
~ * ~
After leaving James I went back to the park and informed Emily of the possible dangers confronting Brigit. She listened with no interruptions and as the story unfolded her eyes appeared strangely hypnotised, with a hint of a tear surfacing in one corner. Her eyes rarely blinked. She was completely dumbstruck.
‘Tom, I simply don’t know what to say. I would have never expected Brigit to be involved in that sort of thing.’
‘It just goes to show - some people are not what they appear.’
‘But marijuana is hardly the drug to commit a murder over.’
‘You’re missing the point. Marijuana’s not the issue here, it’s what the trail can lead to. This syndicate deals in heroin and the like. It’s big business and probably far greater than what most people realise. They’re not going to take a chance on allowing some two-bit hooch dealer blowing their entire cover.’
‘If the potential risk is there to jeopardise the organisation, then why would they take a chance with marijuana in the first place?’
‘You just don’t get it! It’s like a lot of things in life. There’s a natural progression. Brigit’s been dealing in marijuana, which, given time, may well lead to cocaine and heroin and consequently bigger returns for her employer. This organisation couldn’t care less whose lives they ruin because their only interest is in accumulating wealth.’
‘Tom, I’m very concerned for Brigit’s safety.’
‘I’m coming to that, Em. We must assume the syndicate is of the opinion that Jake told Brigit of this guarded secret. Given she already has some inside knowledge of their organisation, this implication must be extremely damaging to them for it’s already resulted in two deaths. That being the case, her life is in danger and measures must be taken to prevent any further blood.’
‘But Tom, that’s police work, not yours!’ protested Emily.
‘Yes, but the police have only offered periodic checks on the house and unfortunately that still leaves her in a vulnerable position. I plan to visit Brigit this evening and to persuade her, with Helen’s consent, that she would be safer laying low in one of our caravan sites for a few days until we figure out something more suitable.’
‘What... here?’
‘I can’t think of anywhere else for the moment, and besides, we both need to be on our guard from now on. We don’t know who can be trusted.’
‘All the more reason to go to the police,’ Emily insisted.
‘Again I must point out that Forbes and co can only offer limited protection. We’re dealing with my niece here and I for one won’t take that risk at the moment.’
Our conversation was interrupted by a sound from the office counter bell. A short man in his mid-thirties, of fair complexion and sporting a ginger goatee greeted me with an outstretched arm holding a business card.
‘Tom Harrison, I presume?’
‘Yes it is, can I help you?’
‘My name’s Ashley Collins. I’m a reporter for the Pedley Advertiser assigned to the Reynolds case. Could I please have a moment of your time?’
I’d anticipated this visit, but I still wondered how I could contribute to their grossly exaggerated articles. These people were no more than male versions of Ruth Evans, sticking their noses into other people’s business and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Still, I had to tread carefully and be pleasant. There had already been enough bad publicity without contributing further.
‘Certainly, but I’m not sure if I can assist you.’
‘I’ll try and keep this brief. My objective is to provide the public with an honest and accurate account of this case. The police have not been overly cooperative, except to say the local drug syndicate has been accused and every effort will be made to flush out the villains.’
‘Yes, I’m already aware of this.’
‘My source advises me that you knew Jake Reynolds well, and his partner Brigit O’Neill. I would appreciate some background on these people, if you don’t mind.’
I gave him a brief overview while he scribbled down some notes. Careful not to divulge too much information, I spoke only of the positive aspects and did not mention Brigit’s drug involvement. Nor did I let on that she was my niece.
‘Mr Harrison, I see this case developing into one long investigation now that the drug underworld appears to be involved. They won’t be easy to infiltrate, I’m told. Therefore you’ll understand when I say my readers are to be provided with factual information from the start. Credibility is an important aspect of journalism and this will need to be maintained as we progress through the case. The hunt for the guilty party will intrigue our readers and subsequently promote more sales.’
‘Yes, all that makes sense,’ I replied, wondering if this guy was for real. Talk about expressing the bleeding obvious.
‘Do you suspect any drug involvement may originate within the caravan park, considering the murder scene is on the edge of your property?’
‘Now steady on, you’re crossing the line here. I can assure you there’s zero involvement on my property.’
‘My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend.’
‘Please don’t imply our park is under suspicion.’
‘Again, I’m sorry. And thank you for your information on these two people. I’d like to keep in touch as this whole matter unfolds, if you have no objection.’
‘Very well, but be careful with your line of questioning in future.’
I watched the reporter depart. What an odd person, I thought. Why ask me for some background on Jake and Brigit when there were many others he could have approached? I could only surmise that the location of the crime scene was the governing factor. Perhaps Collins was hoping there was a connection with one of the tenants but backed off following my reaction.
~ * ~
Marsh had just returned to the station following some interviews up town with two youths regarding the local drug trade. Forbes called a meeting immediately to discuss their progress.
‘The alibis of both James Slattery, Brigit’s ex-boyfriend, and Kurt Muller, a resident of Harrison’s Caravan Park, have been verified up to their last public sighting,’ Marsh said. ‘We also checked the listings in the Harrisons’ guestbook and found no irregularities.’
Forbes took centre stage. ‘Detective Marsh reports that a local drug syndicate called Scorpio is flourishing and dealing in a wider range of stimulants, depressa
nts and various amphetamines than first thought. Unfortunately the harder drugs such as heroin are plentiful, which suggests the bulk of their supply is being made available via a city outlet. We’re therefore most likely dealing with some powerful and influential people who manage and operate a highly successful logistics network. Let me give you some insight into this industry.’
Forbes paused to gather his thoughts. ‘Organised crime that has been revealed in this country is both widespread and serious, probably more so than those who exercise political power will admit. Most politicians are either ignorant of the facts or neglect their responsibility to take appropriate action. There’s an extremely wide range of criminal activity operating on a national basis, and it has strong global links as well. The hierarchy and level of coverage by these present organisations are basically unknown to the authorities, due to insufficient detailed reports or studies that have been carried out in the past.
‘The sooner governments recognise and act upon this apparent liability, the more informed and accomplished our investigations will become. We cannot judge these organisations merely by accumulating the known crimes they’ve committed. When faced with an enemy, and this case is no exception, its threat is not to be judged only by its present operation but rather by its organisation with respect to numbers, dispositions, opportunities and potential. Their leaders, as would be in the Reynolds case, are highly intellectual and versatile, and they have the ability to change their criminal activities and plans of operation according to the strength or weakness of their opponent. Therefore the true seriousness of their threat depends upon their ability, and the power and resources they can accrue.’
‘So where does one look for this organised crime?’ asked Burke.
‘These people or their leaders can come from a multitude of backgrounds and sometimes from the most unlikely sources. Let me give you an example. There are instances where narcotics agents pose as dealers in their undercover work and then deceive the authorities by selling these drugs. It’s what you could call the perfect cover, but with increasing profits rivaling annual salary comes the greed to seek a greater wealth. On the other side of the ledger, the agent will receive a bonus or commission when he helps bust and arrest those responsible for importing a large shipment. There are agents who can’t resist using some of their own spoils and their whole way of life begins to transform for the worst. They become rich dealer addicts as well and over time some of them decide to phase out their law enforcement activities in favour of full-time dealing. There are also agents who take vengeance against their ex-colleagues and will turn them in through spite for having made too much profit. The whole drug world was and still is a dingy and obscure place.’
‘But where do these drugs come from?’ asked Chris Martino.
‘Well, by using heroin as an example, most of the world’s supply today, in fact seventy-five percent of it, comes from Afghanistan or neighbouring areas which serve around ninety percent of the western market. This excludes the US. Most of theirs comes from Columbia. In terms of distribution there are five links in the chain, commencing with the opium farmer and progressing through to the manufacturer, importer, dealer and finally end user. Naturally our efforts concentrate on the latter three.’
‘Are there different types of heroin?’ Martino asked, intrigued by the detective’s briefing.
‘Certainly. Three forms of heroin arrive in the country - white, brown and base. White is the purist grade and derives from the western Asian region, primarily Afghanistan as mentioned before. This form of heroin is the most commonly seized by customs at wharves and airports throughout the country. Brown heroin, also known as brown rock, contains impurities introduced during the process stage, where users heat it on tinfoil and inhale the vapours. Heroin base is simply a very low-grade form of the drug. When we bust this local organisation it’ll most likely be the white form of heroin we uncover.’
Forbes’ mobile rang. He took a moment to digest the contents of the text message, then looked around at his captive audience and proceeded with the meeting.
‘To conclude, make no mistake, the enemy in our midst is no different from what I’ve already pointed out. Their structure and logistical operation is a highly professional and well-run unit. We are dealing with a ruthless foe that is most likely supported by a national syndicate which will protect their investment at any length.’ Forbes stopped, looking around for something to quench his thirst.
Marsh reinforced Forbes’ briefing. ‘So, as you can see we’re not dealing with some two-bit organisation in this case. Our objective is to break down this regional operation, which I’m convinced will lead us to those responsible for murdering Jake Reynolds.’
‘With regards to delegated duties,’ Forbes said, ‘Marsh and I will continue to concentrate on these drug issues. Burke and Martino, you’ll be reassigned to this case when required, so for the moment you may return to local station matters.’
‘You’ll need to give me some forewarning when I’m to release any of my men,’ Whittaker said. ‘Spur of the moment transfers may create problems.’
‘How many officers are under your command?’ asked Forbes.
‘Four sergeants and sixteen constables stationed in Pedley.’
‘Then asking for only two officers at this stage should not cause any undue distress,’ said the pompous Forbes and then softened the arrogant remark by adding, ‘Again, I must emphasise that this will not be a continuous necessity. It’s more likely to operate on an as-need basis.’
‘I understand,’ acknowledged Whittaker unconvincingly.
‘Bear in mind that should this case escalate to the point where a full-time team is warranted, backup should be made available via city headquarters,’ Forbes added.
The remaining constabulary could sense an air of friction escalating between their two most senior-ranked officers.
~ * ~
I
n the presence of Bradbury and Charlie, Sol was calling the regional head to ask about the fate of Brigit O’Neill. A silence came over the room as he began to explain the situation, being mindful not to omit any important detail.
Charlie appeared agitated and was pacing the room, much to the annoyance of Sol who frowned at him to stop the distraction. Sol knew Charlie possessed a cruel streak and would be hoping the boss would issue orders to spill blood.
‘So there you have it,’ Sol said into the phone. ‘We think the O’Neill girl should be handled differently.’
‘I totally agree,’ responded the regional head. ‘A further elimination’s not the answer, and besides, it may be totally unnecessary if Brigit O’Neill is found to be holding no incriminating knowledge. I already have enough issues to deal with.’
‘Then what should we do?’ asked Sol.
‘Okay, this is how we’ll handle it. Charlie and one of his men are to go to the O’Neill residence tonight and bring the girl to the underground, where you’ll await my further instruction. Brigit must be blindfolded and under no circumstances is she to be harmed.’
‘And what if her mother creates a problem?’
‘Deal with it sensibly but nothing too vicious, just enough to immobilise her. And leave the woman in the house. I don’t want two kidnappings to contend with.’
‘Okay, boss. I’ll have Charlie and Mick there around ten,’ responded Sol.
‘Give me a call tonight after you’ve dealt with it,’ instructed his superior.
~ * ~
Driving to the O’Neill residence I couldn’t help but think that good deeds deserve to be carried out in more favourable weather. It was nine pm and bloody cold. Tonight Jack Frost would be spreading his cover again, resulting in chilblains and frozen tap water come morning. I made a mental note to search for that elusive hot water bottle when I returned home.
Helen opened the front door, obviously startled to see me standing there looking so miserable in the cold. ‘Why, Tom, what a pleasant surprise. Please come in and warm yourself by the fire.’<
br />
‘Thanks, Helen.’
I followed her through to the lounge room, where I found Brigit seated in a club armchair pulled up to the edge of the hearth.
‘Hello, Tom, long time no see,’ said Brigit, gesturing to the chair beside her. ‘Grab a seat and get some warmth, you look like you need to thaw out.’
‘Hi, Brig. You’re looking far better than I expected.’
‘Yeah, much better now. I amazed the doctors with my quick recovery. Something to do with being young and in reasonable health, they kept telling me.’
‘And how long will the arm be in plaster?’
‘About six weeks.’
An uneasy silence came over the room. The sound of crackling red gum seemed to intensify. It was Helen who redirected everybody’s attention away from the hypnotic fire, for she sensed that at nine o’clock on a cold winter’s night this was no ordinary visit.
