Ten minutes later the plane from Sydney arrived, and through the large glass doors of the small terminal Vinnie saw the trio greet someone wearing a grey suit and looking very official with brief case and just carry-on luggage. Vinnie muttered to himself again. ‘Spot the copper, or maybe this is our friend from ICAC? Either way we’ve got big trouble now.’ Vinnie again waited until they’d left the car park before he followed, and they led him back to the police station. Vinnie frowned, thinking—this looks bad, very bad. He pressed an autodial on his hands-free mounted mobile phone, which was instantly answered by The Man.
‘Bad news and more bad news, I’m afraid,’ he said.
‘Talk!’
‘Wellsmore’s gone fishing forever—it was too late to stop it.’
There was a short silence before The Man said, ‘And?’
‘Jack the journo is back, and I’m sitting outside the cop station here in Dawson. Inside there are two dudes who, if I’m any judge, are either both out-of-town coppers or maybe one’s from ICAC,’ said Vinnie.
‘Fuck,’ said The Man with venom.
‘There is some good news, though. So far no-one has been to see GrowOz—although that might be about to change—and I’ve arranged for my helpers who took Wellsmore fishing to piss off and stay away for a while,’ said Vinnie, deciding to leave out the information about more water theft going on.
‘Keep me advised on any developments. I’m still not sure they’ve got anything. By the way, what happened to our whistleblower lady friend? Is she still a worry?’ said The Man.
‘I don’t know. I frightened the crap out of her. I reckoned she’d run and hide after being roughed up,’ replied Vinnie.
‘Yeah, you thought the same about Jack the journo, remember?’ The Man responded with cutting sarcasm. ‘You’re losing it, Vinnie.’
Vinnie grimaced.
Chapter 77
Inside the police station, Luke filled Mark in on the recent happenings. Mark asked, ‘So how long can you hold McMahon?’
‘We can at least question him now. Based on what Wellsmore told Lisa, and what we overheard McMahon say to her, I think we have grounds to keep him until at least tomorrow. That depends on what the search finds. Excuse me, Lisa; but if they find Wellsmore’s body, then his comments to Lisa provide a stronger case for holding him longer,’ said Luke.
‘Ok, let’s go talk to him now. When can I see Mary?’ asked Mark.
‘She and her husband should be out at Mike’s by now,’ said Jack. ‘We can go see her tomorrow.’
Lisa, becoming increasingly anxious, said, ‘When can we go start the search for dad?’
‘Lisa, I’d prefer you waited for the officer being sent from regional HQ. He will take charge of that. I’m not sure it’s wise for you to be going out there, given the circumstances,’ replied Luke.
‘Luke, I can’t just sit here twiddling my thumbs,’ Lisa insisted.
‘I’m afraid you have no choice,’ said Luke.
Mark and Luke entered the holding cell where McMahon was sitting—his body language exuding belligerence.
‘It’s about bloody time. I don’t know who you clowns are but this is simply a misunderstanding,’ said McMahon.
‘Is that right,’ replied Luke. ‘This is Mark Samuels from ICAC and I’m Senior Detective Luke Matthews; and unless I’m very mistaken your career in the police force just came to a screaming halt, mate. So sit down, shut up and answer our questions. That might help you when this all comes before the courts.’
McMahon, taken aback by this unexpected verbal assault, lowered himself silently onto the dirty old metal-framed chair.
‘We think you’re up to your neck in all sorts of corruption relating to water theft, Pat, so now is the time to tell us all you know, mate,’ said Mark, trying the good cop role.
McMahon glared at both of them in turn before replying, ‘I know my rights. I’m not answering anything without a solicitor present. So once I have one here we can continue this chat, boys. Otherwise, kiss my arse.’
Mark and Luke exchanged glances. ‘Suit yourself, but if we find Wellsmore’s body floating out in that river you can rest assured the minimum charge you’ll face will be aiding and abetting a felony,’ said Luke, heading for the door.
Before he could turn the door handle, McMahon said, ‘Hang on, I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Pete. He’s the one who stuffed things up and the Sydney mob must have decided he was too much of a liability. All I’ve done is turn the occasional blind eye to some minor goings-on reported by various people, just to help keep this community well off.’
Mark laughed, ‘So you’re telling us you glossed over Jack Miller’s car accident and the associated theft of his laptop and camera as a community service—give us a break here, Pat.’
‘Well, no, the recent stuff has gotten out of hand with bloody Mike and his journo mates stirring it up,’ responded Pat.
‘Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. What about the attempt to burn down Mike’s place and the shooting of one of his dogs in close proximity to his grandchildren? What can you tell us about them?’ asked Mark.
‘Jesus, I didn’t even know about those,’ said Pat with a tone that told Luke and Mark he wasn’t lying.
‘We need to know who else is involved here in Dawson and who’s involved in Sydney. You help us out and it will help you down the track,’ said Luke.
‘You want me to rat on these guys—my life won’t be worth living,’ said Pat.
‘Apart from Wellsmore, who are the other players? Without this information you’ll be seen as obstructing justice on top of whatever other charges they lay against you,’ said Luke.
Just then Luke’s mobile phone rang. It was Benny. ‘I’ll have to take this, it could be something about our shooter,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Luke stepped out of the room and took the call. ‘Hey Luke, we hit paydirt for you on that name you gave me. Casperson’s full name is William Gary Casperson. Ex-military. Was a trained sniper and did one tour of Afghanistan before bailing out. No fixed address at present as far as we can find. Has one prior for attempted armed robbery back in 2005 and got out after three years for good behaviour. So, we had his fingerprints and I crosschecked them with that shell casing you sent through and bingo—they’re a match. He’s your shooter.’
‘That’s great, Benny; thanks mate. That gives us a bit more to work with,’ said Luke.
Returning to the holding cell, Luke asked Pat, ‘Who’s Billy Casperson?’
‘Name rings a bell. Can’t put a face to that name though,’ said Pat.
Luke decided to try a bluff. ‘We understand he works for GrowOz and hangs around with someone called Marcus Girodella who drives a beat-up old Holden ute. Does that help you?’
‘Oh, yeah, I’ve seen those two in the pub occasionally. Didn’t know they worked for GrowOz—you sure about that?’ said Pat with obvious deception.
‘Ok, you’re not helping us much here. Come on, Mark, we’ll leave this for the Police Integrity Commission boys to sort out,’ he said, standing to leave.
Pat finally understood how serious his situation was.
‘Look, these guys scare me. If I tell you any more I really will have to disappear, and I’d prefer it wasn’t like Pete.’
‘We can protect you Pat, you know that,’ said Luke.
‘I wish I could believe you,’ he scoffed.
Chapter 78
With the arrival of the replacement sergeant, Tony Richmond, late in the day, it was decided to hold off the full search along the river until first light—despite the desperate pleas to the contrary by Lisa. He reasoned that it certainly wasn’t cold, far from it; so if Wellsmore was alive, hypothermia wasn’t going to be a problem. They had also discussed the fact that Wellsmore was no city slicker and could look after himself in the bush.
‘A bit later on I’ll go out to the shack to check it out with one of the constables; Lisa, you go home,’ advised Richmond.
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‘I can’t do that, Sergeant, I’m beside myself with worry. I may as well be here on the phones if nothing else,’ she pleaded.
‘Ok. I understand,’ he said.
The prolonged drought had seen the MacKinley River drop to levels not seen since before the Carnaby dam was built upstream. The water levels in the dam were down to 15 per cent and it was only because the government had decided to give licence holders 10 per cent of their entitlement that year that any flow was happening at all. The irrigation season had been shortened as well and it had been decided by the tap turners to piggyback a long overdue ‘greenie’ water release on the back end of the licensed water.
This small flush of new water was only a couple of weeks after the reopening of the Murray cod season and so the enthusiastic fishermen were ready and waiting as the moon rose at about 8.00 pm on a hot December evening. As the sun set they saw the silhouettes of wave after wave of flying foxes heading out to cause havoc in the stone fruit crops.
They took to the river, under the now blazing moonlight. There was lots of swearing and hooting as they took to their tinnies with eskies full of cold beer for a fun night.
All good fishermen knew that big fish like big snags and deep holes in the river and it wasn’t long before one of the tinnies tied up to a huge snag, an old fallen tree with its roots still tangled on the bank and its partially-submerged trunk stretched halfway across the river.
On his second cast, old Jacko’s expensive lure got caught on the snag, or so he thought. ‘Bugger,’ he said, ‘I’ve only cast this fucking lure twice and it cost me $20. Hey, Pricey, you got the anchor there; try to break off the bit of snag it’s caught on, will ya?’
Pricey leaned over into the warm MacKinley River and reached down into the muddy water while releasing the anchor rope. As he started to haul it back up it caught on something heavy. ‘You sure you didn’t have something on this lure, mate; it’s bloody heavy and whatever it is, it’s coming to the surface.’
As Jacko and Pricey gazed into the water a wrinkled white hand emerged and was silhouetted in the bright moonlight. ‘Holy shit, it’s a fucking body,’ yelled Pricey. He and Jacko exchanged stunned glances.
‘What the hell do we do now?’ said Jacko, recovering his composure as more of the body appeared and floated face up at the moon.
They heard a call from one of the nearby tinnies. ‘Don’t tell us you buggers have landed a big one already?’
‘You could say that,’ answered Jacko as the other boats approached.
Cries of ‘Fuck me’ and ‘Bloody hell’ rang out from those in the other two tinnies as they came into view and shone their strong torches on the floating form.
‘Has anybody got mobile coverage out here?’ asked Pricey. ‘We’d better call the cops.’
‘I’ve got coverage—suppose I’ll call triple zero,’ said someone in one of the other boats. They all sat mesmerised by the body. The gentle current tried to carry it away downstream while Pricey held the rope with the anchor itself caught in the sleeve of Wellsmore’s shirt.
‘Do you think we could roll him over,’ asked Jacko. ‘I don’t like him looking at me like that.’
‘Reckon it looks a bit like that Wellsmore guy from Water Resources. I heard in the pub the other night he was missing and I think there’s a shack down from here a bit that he and his fishing mates use,’ said one of the other fishermen.
As Lisa was dozing off at her desk, the call she didn’t want to receive came through; redirected from the 000 emergency service.
‘I have a caller in your region who claims to have found a body floating in the river. They assure me the person is deceased so at this point I need to pass this caller on to the police,’ said the very efficient male voice.
While she had tried to hold out hope, Lisa was half expecting this news; and so she was able to thank the 000 operator and accept the call, with tears starting to well in her eyes.
Luke had also tried to get Lisa to go home. She had convinced him to let her stay another hour. He heard the call come through and walked over from his temporary work station in time to overhear enough of the conversation to know what it was about. As the tears began to trickle down Lisa’s cheeks, he reached around and gently took the phone from her. Lisa slumped to the desk, wracked with convulsions of grief.
‘This is the Dawson Police Station, how can I help?’ he asked. Listening intently, Luke reached for a pen and paper and wrote down some details. ‘We have a vehicle on its way. Please stay with the body but don’t touch it in any way. We may need to do some forensics on it. Thank you, they should be there very soon,’ said Luke.
Hanging up the phone, he reached down to console Lisa—still crying uncontrollably on the desk. ‘Lisa, I need you to go home now, this is no place for you. Let us handle this.’
Lisa’s sobbing slowly subsided and she said, ‘Yes, I know, Luke. I’m too emotional to be much use to you right now. I’ll be better tomorrow.’
Luke reached for the phone to call Seargent Richmond—who had departed for Tindale’s shack about 30 minutes before—to give him the news.
Chapter 79
The next morning, Mark, Luke and Jack turned off the highway into GrowOz’s tree-lined driveway. A kilometre away on the highway a black Land Rover slowed and then stopped under some shady trees.
‘I’m not sure this is a good idea; you tagging along, Jack. Technically you’re a civilian and we’re here on official business. I’m only allowing it because it might unsettle Robertson to have you there,’ said Luke.
‘Thanks, Luke, I appreciate your frankness. Don’t forget these bastards tried to kill me and kidnapped my daughter—I think I deserve the chance to see one of them squirm,’ Jack replied.
‘Sure, but remember what we said—we do the talking. You say nothing,’ stressed Mark.
They were ushered into Robertson’s office and he came in from a rear entrance with a perplexed look on his face. ‘Gentlemen, I’m Steve Robertson, regional manager for GrowOz. What seems to be the problem?’
‘Mr Robertson, I take it you know who we are then?’ said Luke, trying to put him on the back foot immediately. When making the appointment they had avoided saying who they worked for or why they wanted to see Robertson.
‘No, no, I don’t,’ he stuttered, realising his faux pas.
‘I’m Senior Detective Luke Matthews; this is Mark Samuels, a senior investigator with ICAC; and this is Jack Miller, an interested observer, shall we say.’
‘Oh, this is a surprise,’ said Robertson even though it was clear to all that it wasn’t. ‘What can you people want to talk to me about?’
‘Why don’t we start with Peter Wellsmore. Do you happen to know where we might find him?’ asked Luke.
‘No, I’m afraid I don’t. I play 18 holes every Saturday with him and since he took his sudden sick leave none of us at the club have heard from him,’ said Robertson.
‘So you say his sick leave was a surprise?’ queried Mark.
‘Yes, it was. He’d not mentioned any health problems to us at the club. You could check with his mates in the fishing club. I’m not a fisherman myself.’
Changing tack; Luke asked, as he produced the photo of the ute taken by Jack at the illegal diversion site. ‘I wonder if you’re able to identify this vehicle?’ handing it over to Robertson.
Robertson was obviously surprised to see the photo. He pretended to study it and then replied, ‘No, can’t say that I do.’
‘That’s strange because two days ago I observed that car driving up your driveway here,’ said Luke.
All eyes were now on Robertson and how he would react to being caught out. He took a deep breath. ‘I suppose it could belong to one of the casuals, then. I don’t keep tabs on all their vehicles.’ Clever sidestep, Jack thought.
‘The vehicle belongs to a Marcus Girodella whom we’re keen to speak to. Do you know him?’ said Mark.
‘Again, he could be one of our casuals. I’ll have to chec
k. Can I ask why you want to speak to him?’ said Robertson.
Luke avoided the question, and produced another photo, this one of the excavator and its number plate from the illegal diversion site. ‘Can you confirm that this belongs to your company?’
This time Robertson was clearly stunned. ‘I need to ask where this photo was taken,’ he said defensively.
‘We’ll get to that in a minute. Is this GrowOz’s equipment?’ said Luke slightly belligerently.
‘It would appear so although the photo is not clear,’ said Robertson.
Mark changed tack again, keeping Robertson on the hop. ‘We’re also interested in speaking to someone we believe has a connection to your company. His name is Billy Casperson. Can you tell us where we might find him? We understand he might be an associate of Mr Girodella.’
Robertson, as they had hoped, was now obviously flustered. ‘Look’ he said, ‘what the hell is this all this about? I think this interview is over unless you tell me why you’ve barged in here and are treating me like some common criminal.’ He glared at all three of them.
Not wanting him to go the ‘I want my lawyer’ route, Luke took a more conciliatory approach. ‘Steve, can I call you that?’ he asked before continuing, ‘Steve, you’ll be aware that a few weeks ago Mike Thompson made accusations in a public meeting about corruption in the water industry in this region. Well, since Jack here arrived and started asking a few questions about that there have been a string of incidents. These have encouraged us to look into those accusations a little more.’
‘You do realise that bloody Thompson has been banging on about these issues for years. Everyone knows he’s got a chip on his shoulder,’ said Robertson.
‘Yes, we’ve heard that from several sources. The problem is what’s happened since Thompson made the accusations. Our lines of investigation keep pointing toward your company,’ said Mark.
‘Like how?’ challenged Robertson.
Flood country Page 20
