by David Archer
Noah nodded. “I was hoping to speak to Montoya. Where might I find him, and Captain Reynolds as well?”
Jamison touched a button on his phone and his receptionist stepped inside. “Janine, I want you to have Captain Reynolds and Jorge Montoya brought to my conference room. Mr. Rogers and his staff need to speak with them.”
The young woman smiled and nodded. “Right away, Mr. Ambassador,” she said, and then she backed out of the door and pulled it closed behind her.
“They should be available within a few moments,” Jamison said, turning back toward Noah. “Would any of you like some coffee or something?”
Neil looked up with a glint in his eye. “Would it happen to be American coffee?”
Jamison grinned. “Of course,” he said. “Comes in a red can, unlike this rust remover they sell in the coffee shops down here.”
All four of them accepted a cup and Jamison led them into the conference room. They sat down at a large oval table to wait for the men they were going to interrogate.
* * *
Captain Walter Reynolds, U.S. Army special forces officer assigned to provide security to the ambassador, appeared a few moments later, carrying a cup of coffee of his own. Noah stood to shake hands with him and he took a seat directly across from where the three of them sat.
“Mr. Jamison tells me you are trying to identify someone who was here last night,” he said. “How can I help you?”
“That’s correct,” Noah said. “I’m particularly interested in anything you can tell me about Dermot Calloway and Charles Olson. It’s my understanding that both of them seem to be more powerful than would be expected under normal circumstances.”
Reynolds leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, his entire posture relaxed and confident.
“Calloway is a local boy, grew up in the outback and became a self-made billionaire. He got his start by dealing in real estate, but now he’s in just about every industry you can imagine. He made a few million buying up distressed properties and flipping them, then started making some very shrewd investments. Some people think he has a Midas touch, because anything he puts money into seems to succeed. There are probably a thousand companies around the world that wouldn’t exist if he had not soaked a little money into them in the beginning.”
“What kind of companies?” Neil asked. “Are we talking about particular industries?”
“Industries? You name it, he’s in it. Everything from organic agriculture to high-tech companies, and probably everything in between. He owns farms and orchards, factories, chemical plants, drug companies, makes computer parts and weapons and just about anything else you can imagine.”
“And all of it seems to be legitimate?” Noah asked.
“I didn’t exactly say that,” Reynolds said with a grin. “Calloway doesn’t shy away from something just because it might not be legal. There’s never been any provable evidence, but it’s pretty much common knowledge that he owns some of the biggest cannabis fields in the world, and some of his weapons have been turning up in the middle of rebellions and other unsanctioned conflicts. He’s probably one of the most diversified billionaires in the world.”
“Makes you wonder how he keeps track of it all,” Neil said. “A guy like that would have a team of people handling things, people who report to him.” He looked at Noah. “He’d probably also have people who could fix problems before they got big enough to cause any interference in his operations.”
“I agree,” Noah said. “Captain Reynolds, in your opinion, would Mr. Calloway have any reason to want harm to come to Patrick McNealy?”
Reynolds bit his bottom lip and thought about it for a moment. “I couldn’t point to any particular reason why he would,” he said a few seconds later, “but McNealy is in a pretty powerful position in the banking industry here. He’s the guy who runs any sort of financial investigations for the government. I can imagine that if Calloway had something he wanted to hide, something he wouldn’t want the bank regulators to see, he might want to get rid of McNealy and hope for someone less thorough to take over.”
Gary cleared his throat. “Or arrange for someone less thorough,” he said. “Our target seems to be the kind of man who would not leave something like that to chance. He was almost certainly grooming someone for the position.”
Noah nodded. “That’s a good point. Neil, I want you to look at who would’ve taken his place if McNealy had been killed. See if you can find a connection to Calloway, or anyone else with that kind of power.”
Neil set his computer on the table and opened it up. He began working quietly while the conversation went on.
“What about Olson?” Noah asked. “How does he compare to Calloway?”
“Probably just as rich,” Reynolds said. “Not nearly as diversified, though. He made most of his money in medical technology. From what I understand, he actually invented a kind of prosthetic hand that works on spring action, with no power supply. That made him a small fortune and he was able to hire engineers to work on his more complicated ideas. His company, Olson Med, developed a chip that can go in the brain and relay instructions to artificial limbs that make it work like the real thing. I’ve seen a man who lost both legs just below the hip joint learn to tap dance with their technology. It’s pretty damned impressive.”
“And is he also involved in less legal activities?”
“Not as far as I know, but it’s possible. As far as the Australian government is concerned, Olson coming here was one of the best things that ever happened to them. The taxes his company pays actually help the country out, and he’s always running some sort of benefit or charity. I remember reading an article recently about how he gave away more than two billion dollars last year to various charities.”
Jenny looked at Noah. “Could be camouflage,” she said. “He could be doing that just to make people think he’s one of the good guys, when he’s really one of the worst there is.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Noah said, “but one of the primary markers of a criminal organization is greed. They don’t usually like to give up money or power, unless it’s an exchange for something of greater value.”
“I’m going to disagree with you on that, no,” Gary said. “Al Capone was extremely well known for his generosity. He gave money to the church in Chicago, spent thousands of dollars every year buying Christmas presents for underprivileged kids, did all sorts of charitable works even though he was one of the most notorious crime bosses ever.”
“Yes, but it was a power exchange,” Noah said. “By doing so, he won the hearts of the people around him so that whenever the police tried to take action against him, their own citizens would try to interfere and protect him. The money he spent on those things was probably cheaper than any insurance he could have bought.”
Gary looked at him for a second, then shrugged. “Okay, I guess I see your point.”
“And Olson could be doing the same thing,” Jenny said. “It’s like I was saying, make himself look like some kind of miracle worker that everybody loves, and it would prove to be very difficult to bring any kind of prosecution against him.”
Neil looked up. “Got something,” he said. “The most likely man to replace McNealy if something happened to him would be Clarence Dartmouth. Dartmouth has been in charge of three different investigations into Calloway’s operations, and all of them were closed with no findings of improper activities.”
“Send a message back to Molly,” Noah said. “Have Dartmouth picked up and questioned. I think there’s a pretty good chance we have discovered the identity of our elusive Spear.”
EIGHTEEN
People were coming and going from the embassy, just as they always did. It was one of the most busy places in all of Sydney, due mostly to the fact that so many governmental operations were dependent on a good relationship with the United States. As a result, the security was accustomed to seeing many faces show up at the front gate every day, and a number of them had b
ecome familiar enough to cause the security to be less than thorough.
Corporal Darrell Garrett stepped out as the car pulled up to the gate and leaned down to look inside at the driver. He smiled when he saw who it was.
“Mr. Hanover,” he said. He glanced cursorily at the ID that the driver held up, then looked at the man again. “Wasn’t sure if we were going to see you today, after what happened last night. Real shame about Mr. Wentworth, wasn’t it?”
“It was indeed,” Hanover said. “He was a good man.”
Corporal Garrett nodded and stepped back, then reached through the window and hit the button to raise the gate. He waved Hanover ahead and the car proceeded on through.
Jonathan Hanover was the embassy liaison with the Australian government. A member of ASIS, he was primarily concerned with ensuring that any spying that went on at the embassy would not endanger Australian sovereignty or security, and while he was extremely capable at his job, he was also very well-liked by most of the embassy staff. He was a jovial man, slightly overweight, but far more physically fit than he appeared.
He parked his car in his assigned space and got out, then walked quickly into the building. He didn’t bother going to his own office, but presented himself to the ambassador’s receptionist.
“Is Mr. Jamison in?” he asked.
Janine looked up and smiled. Like most of the staff, she found Hanover to be a delight to deal with.
“He is, sir,” she said. “If you’ll take a seat, I’ll see if he has time to see you.”
“Yes, please,” Hanover said with a smile. He took a seat in one of the comfortable chairs in the waiting area, and it was only a moment later that Janine told him he could go on in.
Ambassador Jamison looked up from his desk, but the smile on his face seemed forced. “Jonathan,” he said. “Good of you to come. Can you give me any idea what’s happening on your end of this mess?”
Hanover walked directly to the desk. “Actually, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said. “Our people seem to think that yours might be behind the fiasco that happened last night.”
Jamison’s eyes went wide. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said. “What possible reason could we have wanting any harm to come to McNealy?”
“That’s not what I’m referring to,” he said. He reached into a pocket and produced a small pistol that had a silencer attached to it, which he pointed directly into Jamison’s face. “The fiasco I’m talking about is the one that kept me from accomplishing my objective.”
Jamison stared at the pistol for a moment, then raised his eyes to look into those of the man holding it.
“You’re not Jonathan Hanover,” he said softly.
The pistol coughed once and Jamison fell backward into his chair, a small, red hole appearing in his forehead while a large one spewed blood and brain matter out the back of his skull.
Dawson stepped around the desk quickly and began typing on the keyboard to Jamison’s computer. He continued looking through various screens for several moments, then cursed softly when he couldn’t find what he was looking for.
He glanced down at the deceased ambassador and then turned away. He walked over beside the door and then spoke in a voice that was very much like the ambassador’s.
“Let me know if I can be of any service,” he said, and then he opened the door and stood in the doorway, looking back toward the desk.
“I’ll be sure to do that, mate,” he said. “Give my best to Beulah.” He pulled the door shut behind him, then nodded at Janine as he walked past her desk and through the door. Five minutes later, he was back in his car and out through the same gate where he had come in. As soon as he was out of sight of the guard shack, he reached up and pulled the mask off and tossed it into the floorboard.
“Damn things are so hot,” he said.
* * *
Noah had finished up with Captain Reynolds and told Gary to tell Mr. Montoya to step inside the conference room. The man came in and took a seat, and Noah looked him in the eye.
“Mr. Montoya, thanks for coming,” he said. “I wonder if you can tell me what you know about Dermot Calloway.”
“Mr. Calloway? He’s a businessman, I know that. He has a tendency to be a little bit on the pushy side, sometimes. Mr. Wentworth had to deal with him as technology attaché, and there were times when the exchange would leave him rather angry, but in general, I think they got along pretty well.”
Noah nodded. “Do you think he is an honest man?”
Montoya’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Honest? I’m not really sure that would be an accurate description, though I would be hard-pressed to put my finger on anything specific that would make it a lie. He’s certainly a determined individual, and he doesn’t like to take no for an answer.”
Noah looked over at Neil. “How much can I say?” he asked.
Neil’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and then he looked back at Noah. “Mr. Montoya has sufficient clearance,” he said. “I don’t know if he was privy to Wentworth’s association with our bosses.”
Noah turned back to Montoya. “Are you aware of an organization known as E & E?”
Montoya nodded. “I’m aware that Mr. Wentworth was connected to them in some fashion, and I know what they do. Is that important somehow, with regard to Mr. Calloway?”
“My team is part of that organization,” Noah said. “Our mission is to determine the identity of a particular international crime lord, and we are beginning to believe that Mr. Calloway might be the man we’re looking for. Did Mr. Wentworth confide in you about any of his work with our people?”
Montoya shook his head. “No, sir,” he said. “In fact, he specifically warned me against asking any questions about it. The only involvement I ever had was when he needed something delivered to one of your people. I would be given a box and told to take it to a specific person, then leave before the box was opened.”
Noah started to say something else, but a sudden commotion outside the room went from a low buzz to a loud roar. He glanced toward the door, then got up and quickly snatched it open to find people running toward the ambassador’s office up the hall.
Noah hurried to follow. The receptionist, Janine, was sitting at her desk in tears, and several security personnel were entering the ambassador’s office. Noah spotted Captain Reynolds and caught his attention as he was about to step through the door.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Reynolds turned and looked at him for a moment, his face set in an angry, stony expression.
“Ambassador Jamison has been murdered,” he said. “And the last person to see him alive was the Australian Intelligence liaison.”
“I need to see security video,” Noah said. “Get my intelligence man access to it on his computer, now.”
Reynolds stared at him. “Who do you think you are?” he asked. “You don’t come in here and start ordering my people around like…”
“Condition Delta Theta two seven,” Noah said, providing a code that only a high ranking government agent would know. “I’m E & E, and I have reason to believe that the killer might not be who you think it is. Give me that access, now.”
Reynolds’ eyes were wide, but he nodded instantly. “Yes, sir,” he said. He took a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call, then scribbled down a code onto a piece of paper from Janine’s desk and handed it to Noah. “That’ll get you in,” he said. “Sir, please let me know if you learn anything.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Noah said. “Why don’t you come with me?”
He hurried back into the conference room with Reynolds following. Neil, Jenny and Gary were sitting where he had left them, as well as Montoya. He passed the paper to Neil and told him to get access to the security video for the embassy, specifically for the hallway around Jamison’s office.
Neil’s fingers flew over the keyboard and the video opened a moment later. They watched as a man came up the hall, and Reynolds said, “That’s Mr. Hanover. He’s the
Australian Intelligence man I was talking about.”
“Gary,” Noah said, “take a look.”
Gary leaned close and looked at the monitor, then asked Neil to back it up and run it again. After the third time, he looked up at Noah.
“I don’t know who that’s supposed to be, but it’s Dawson. I had plenty of opportunities to watch him walk, and that’s him.”
Noah nodded. “I thought so,” he said. “Neil, see if you can trace him out of the building.”
“Easy,” Neil said. They watched the monitor as the view changed from camera to camera, keeping up with Dawson until he exited the building. A moment later, Neil found the camera outside that showed him getting into a car. He zoomed in to get the tag number and Reynolds scribbled it down.
“I’ve got to get this to the police,” he said, and started out of the room.
“Go ahead,” Noah said, “but they will only find the car abandoned somewhere not too far away. Neil, any chance you can track him down?”
Neil shook his head. “None that I can imagine,” he said. “I just can’t figure out why he would risk coming back into the embassy to kill the ambassador. That doesn’t make any sense at all, not to me.”
“Of course it does,” Jenny said. “There’s a computer on the ambassador’s desk, right? I would just about bet it has access to everything that has to do with embassy operations. He came in looking for information, and he didn’t have time to try to con it out of anybody. The simplest way was to go straight to the computer that would be able to access it and silence the only person who would be in the way.”
“I think you’re right,” Noah said. “Neil, can you tell what he might have gotten into?”
“I’m on it already,” Neil said. “I had a subroutine running on my computer to hack the network here when we came in this morning, just in case we needed any information out of it that somebody didn’t want to give us. Give me a moment to find the ambassador’s terminal—okay, got it.”
