Wyatt Earp: and the Boomerang Refugium
Page 19
“Can do,” she said. “Give me your email address and they are yours.” Trevor handed over his card and Susan immediately sent off a text. Trevor kept looking at the tax return, and then abruptly stopped.
“Look at this. This one is based in Townsville.” Without missing a beat he moved to his computer and began typing.
“Should know soon,” he said with no explanation given.
“This is exciting Jack. We need tea. We might be further than I imagined.” At that Trevor moved to the other side of the room and put the kettle on to boil, came back, and spoke to Susan.
“How rude of me earlier. Congratulations on your engagement to Jack here. And you too Jack. I wish you both every happiness.” And in a near whisper he said, “Please don’t ask for a look at the files I have on both of you. It would not do.” And then he laughed.
Having just poured some tea and taken a sip, the computer chimed. Then it chimed again. Trevor had a quick look and seeing the messages contained six PDF files, sent them to the printer for printing.
“File 1. Looky here, Johnson’s Copy Centre, Townsville, on land owned by the Cavallos for decades. And these referring to earlier tax records might tell us a story or two. Let’s lay them out and do some cross-checking.”
With notepad in hand Trevor was off and running.
“Guys. Give me a minute or two, would you? I have an inkling.”
“Did not know about these,” Trevor said, but without indicating what he was looking at. “Let’s cross check listed business addresses with Cavallo holdings to see if we have some ghost properties. Obviously, many businesses operate from leased premises. Starting with Townsville, Johnson’s Copy Centre is on Cavallo land, but the tax return lists lease expenses. We need to know where.”
The three of us continued for about half an hour, when Trevor said, “So we are actually working for the government here. And with their assistance when necessary. That’s nice. Should not get into trouble or have to explain myself.” Trevor then broke out into a grin any cat would be proud of. “Okay boys and girls, apart from property to find and identify, what else do you notice?” Trevor looked at me, then at Susan, and we looked at him.
With both Susan and I both stationary and silent, Trevor said, “I like it. The return for Johnson’s Copy Centre. Take a close look. What do you see? It’s a small thing, but it could prove highly significant in our enquiry.”
Susan and I looked but failed to see what Trevor was onto.
“Okay. Your focus is the Cavallo brothers, right? But when does a second or third generation Italian family consist of only two people? Sure, they have family here in Brisbane, and that is the point. So, who operates the Townsville copy centre? More to the point, who can they trust to operate it and why is a now Brisbane owned company operating in Townsville with an additional leased property, using a Townsville accountant rather than a Brisbane one? On top of that, they changed their Townsville accountant three years ago.”
Trevor continued. “Townsville. What does Johnson’s Copy Centre do? They own a property, lease at least one other, apparently make little profit, and its accounting is separated from Cavallos’ other Brisbane interests. Currently Tuesday afternoon. I suggest we get up there first thing in the morning. The three of us. As you would know Susan, there is a large AFP presence in both Townsville and Cairns if we need them, which is likely. Three days and we should be on top of this.”
Trevor was always optimistic when hot on a trail. It helped that he was good at what he did, and with AFP support we knew it would go faster.
“Okay,” he said, looking up from his computer. I have us on a Qantas flight leaving Brisbane at 6.40am arriving at 8.40am, with a Toyota Tarago or equivalent waiting for us. We can easily get other vehicles if we need them. Let’s say we go our own ways for now and meet up at the airport tomorrow morning. I’ll track down as much as I can here this afternoon. But first, let’s look at the outside of the copy centre.” By the time Trevor said this he was already working Google maps and Street View. The image was likely to be old, but it was a start.
“Would you take a look at that? It is just a suburban street, or was three years ago. A copy centre. Well we’ll see.”
We met again at the Qantas Lounge the next morning over a surrogate breakfast. Trevor brought us up to date.
“We’ve got maps for all of Townsville, though I also brought my GPS. Also, lists of all real estate agents that have rent rolls. On the maps are drawn concentric circles at one kilometre separation, centred on the copy centre address. Jack, you will like this. I have some literature here for you and Susan to brush up on.” He passed over a satchel of small booklets. I opened it, took one peek and passed them onto Susan.
“Trevor, you have to be kidding, but I am sure Susan can handle it if necessary.”
Trevor said, “I thought you would like it.”
The next morning we got to Townsville on time and picked up the waiting car, and Trevor set up the GPS.
“Okay,” he said, “I’ve got all the necessary addresses programmed in. Let’s go cruising.”
We cleared the airport carpark with Trevor repeatedly saying, “Isn’t this fun.” It was only a few minutes before we found the street housing the copy centre. Lined with white gums, it made for a pleasant north Queensland residential setting. We cruised down one way, u-turned and came back the other. In addition to the GPS, Trevor had mounted a dash cam and recorded the whole street travelling both ways.
It was Susan who spoke first. “Not much different from Google Street View. What next Trevor?” By that question I figured she knew who was best at this type of work.
Trevor replied, “There is a park nearby. Let’s take a moment and slomo the video for clues. But I think on foot is the next step after that.”
Trevor ran the video feed through his laptop computer, but it gave us little. The house just looked like a typical hi-set suburban house, with one car parked underneath. A low fence at the front, and no obvious dog or sign warning of same. Besides the gate was open. One car underneath, possibly a car had already left, or maybe not. One set of steps up to the front veranda, and what looked like a back set of stairs.
“Knock-knock time boys and girls. May I suggest starting two doors up to get in the mood, practise, and progressively annoy any dogs. This is anything but stealth here. And here, you will need these.” He handed over a bag of surveillance gear. Micro eyes and ears, noise activated. “I will plant the remote recording box.”
We drove off and pulled up at one end of the street.
“Enjoy,” said Trevor, with a grin wider than the car itself.
I said to Susan in hearing distance of Trevor, “It’s good of you to lead the enquiry here. My knowledge of the Jehovah’s Witnesses is really limited, and as I saw you trawling through the Watchtower magazines on the way up, I think you’re obviously the best equipped to handle this. Thanks sweetie.”
As we were on the footpath in full view of anyone watching, it took a great deal of restraint on her part not to slap me.
We were quickly reunited with truth that a lot of worry about uncertainty is completely unnecessary. It was, however, disappointing for Trevor. The house of interest was fourth from the corner. But really what was the problem. Who is at home in the suburbs mid-morning, mid-week? House one, no one home. Relax. Try the next one. House two, door open - no thanks, - door closed. House three, no one home. House four, the copy centre house, no one home either. On the good side, we did not have to pretend to be JW’s anymore. On the down side, no one was home to talk to. Further on the good side, we chanced looking under the house – just car parking space, a laundry, and the back yard with what appeared to be a small garden shed. Not like there was much here, but we were able to plant some eyes and ears. And while we were exercising our religious freedom, Trevor had secured his recording unit inside a telephone line concrete box on the footpath conveniently positioned outside the copy centre home. He must have done that a time or two before, for
he was back in the car by the time Susan and I walked out the gate.
We climbed into the Tarago to hear Trevor immediately say, “You know Jack. I have to hand it to you. You did an excellent job being a messenger of God. Let’s go.”
Next stop was the nearest cluster of real-estate agents to try finding the location of the property leased by the Copy centre. Trevor’s map had numbers on it matching the lists of agents he had. Thankfully agents are often clustered together. Could be that though they compete with one another, they probably like each other more than some of their clients. With Susan’s AFP ID, the process went quickly. The first cluster though was unrewarding, probably because they were housed within a recently completed shopping centre, much younger than the Johnson’s Copy Centre.
Luck came our way with cluster number two. It was about three km away, but much older.
The second agency we approached and we had our address, and to our utter surprise, “Would you care to borrow the office copies of the keys?” Rule number one. If you are offered something useful that you never expected to easily get, say yes and be gone quickly.
Trevor loaded the address into the GPS. “Look at this,” said Trevor. “Only about eight km away. Same deal, let’s do a double take.” We found the rented property in an older part of Townsville and probably built in the 1950’s by the look of the bricks, fibro-cement sheeting and corrugated roof iron that was common for the area and age.
Townsville’s climate is seasonally dry with low rainfall, and the dry season is reflected by many a lawn unmown for months at a time, especially in the cheaper and invariably rented properties. And this was also true of the rental of our interest. The building was simply a large shed, fronted by three pre-roller door, swivel tilt-a-doors, and a people entrance door. What made the building interesting though was the concrete apron in the front connected to the road by a bitumen driveway. The lawn area comprised unmown rough grasses and daisies, while the driveway was bare bitumen and as such not going to tell us whether recent traffic had passed over it.
Trevor took out his laptop. “Step two. Pull the electricity account. The tax return shows usage equivalent to a small home, but obviously, nobody lives here. Step three. When is the best time to enter?”
Being in an outer suburban industrial area, the entrance to the shed was not readily visible by anybody tending nearby sheds.
“Susan, how about a look around with your religious friend, then a discreet entry?”
That said Susan and I were out and on foot. Rule number two. If you want to look the part, be confidant, stand upright and walk with purpose. Was this what we were looking for? Soon find out. By walking around the outside, nothing looked suspicious, but I guess we should have expected that. On the tilt-a-doors though, there was no build-up of cobwebs as is usual for infrequently used sheds.
Step three, follow through and enter.
Trevor had parked a little up the street to be able to see any vehicle traffic and alert us if necessary. The follow-through of entering the shed was a little out of Susan’s comfort zone. “Jack. What if someone is inside?”
“There isn’t,” I said. “Let’s just do this and get out. Especially with investigator Trevor watching our performance. Maybe hold a bible in one hand.” For that I got another dark look from her. She took the key and unlocked the door, then immediately checked that the copy Trevor had made also worked. We then opened the door and entered.
“Oh wow. What have we got here? A building within a building.” The shed when opened revealed a vermin proof cabin built inside, complete with windows and adjustable blinds, currently in a closed position. I approached the door of the cabin, rotated the handle, and to my utter surprise it opened. I entered and stopped just inside waiting for my eyes to adjust to the low light intensity. I turned around, found the light switch and turned it on. Susan edged in and we looked at a near Spartan room. Two tables were adjacent the far wall. No other furniture or boxes were present. But on the far wall was another door, closed. Given the small size of the room we were in, the door no doubt led to another room. But this door was locked. I snapped several photos of the room and the lock and suggested we quickly leave.
“Nothing further we can do for now.” With the light turned off and the door closed and locked, we were back on the road, in and out in less than four minutes.
Not surprisingly, Trevor had been anything but idle while we were inside the shed. We told him what we had found, but what he had found was interesting, very interesting indeed.
“Fascinating what crooks do at times,” he said.
My retort was, “Well, go on. Tell us more.”
“Johnson’s Copy Centre, centred in an outer suburban residential house, rents a shed, and guess who owns the shed?” He waited a moment.
“None other than another Cavallo company. How do you figure that?” He did not wait for a reply and said, “We have to find out what is in there, and secondly talk to the solicitor-accountant they used to use.”
A quick trip into an adjacent suburb had us parked at Lloyd’s Accounting. Inside we were greeted by Mr Lloyd.
Trevor handed over his business card. “Mr Lloyd. Pleased to meet you. Trevor Smith.”
“Please call me Simon.”
“Simon. I have an enquiry you may be able to help me with. I am a private investigator, but am currently liaising with the Queensland Police and the AFP. Let me explain.”
Trevor pulled out the tax returns which showed that the copy centre returns were being handled by an agent other than Lloyd’s Accounting. “What I would like to know is did the Cavallos take their business elsewhere or did you give them the flick?”
“Normally I would not discuss anything about a client with third parties, present or past, but I’m not surprised by your question, or having the police involved. The straightest answer is that they went elsewhere after I told them that what they wanted to declare as costs, was technically incorrect, that is illegal. They were kind of pushy, and my association with them simply ended. At that I have not heard from them since. If it was alleged that what they do is somewhat suspect, it would be worth establishing whether true or not.”
“Thank-you Simon. I may want to call you at some time, but I may not have to.”
Trevor handed over another card. “This is my AFP contact. If you think of anything that may additionally help us, please give either of us a call or email. Thanks again.”
Trevor then met Susan and myself down town not far from Townsville’s main Queensland Police Station. For some reason Trevor preferred to not enter the Station, but that was his call, and I preferred to not know why. Trevor filled us in on what he had found, which Susan and I did not find surprising. We also had news for Trevor. As we had been offered a key, we could enter the property legally without recrimination. The locked internal door is inconsequential, like a locked filing cabinet. Given we had legal access, we could also go through the locked door. The question was when to do so.
Susan had the answer. “I can get a locksmith to open the door without breaking it, and relock it if necessary. What say we take a look now, but also get some unmarked cars to keep any straying owners a few minutes away from us?”
We all agreed, and Susan made the necessary calls to get things moving.
The enquiry was going better and faster than I thought it would. The combination of police and private contractors was working well and within the hour we were back at the shed.
The locksmith’s name was Geoff, and at first sight of the lock he said, “About a minute at the most I reckon.” And true to his estimate, that is how long he took to open it. The door opened and we looked inside. If we were suspicious before, we sure were now. In front of us was a shipping container with two large padlocks. Geoff looked at them and said, “Simple if you know how. Pneumatic bolt cutters are the fastest, or give me about five minutes a piece max.”
“Geoff.” I said. “I like the idea of bolt cutters, but we may need to lock up again.”
Trevor said, “Hold on a moment. I’ve often found that appearances can be deceptive, and the obvious often hides the hidden.” He looked around, and then said, “Ok. Tell me what you see?” Trevor liked this form of questioning in preference to immediate explanation. If he was not good at what he did, his manner could be overly annoying. But we looked around to humour him. I think he really did not expect an answer but just wanted to bog us. He knelt and looked at the power point near the floor.
“Look at this guys. Conduit down the wall, power point on the floor. Oh yeah. Ok. Let’s find the door. The one that’s on the floor.”
I looked at Trevor and asked, “What’s up?”
“Power points in rooms are usually on the wall, right? Having the power point on the floor hides the conduit that goes below. I’d say there is another container, or at least a room below. All we have to do is find the way in.”
It was Geoff who saw it first. “Trevor,” he said, with screwdriver in hand. This is likely it. And look at the screws. All show signs of wear, yet those over there appear unworn.”
A cursory inspection of the container and it was likely that you would not notice anything unusual or hidden. But a few minutes later a section of floor was lifted out revealing a set of steps leading below. Naturally we got excited at what could be below.
Trevor had his light out, took a brief look below and said, “Close it up. I need to get something else before we go in. Give me a mo, and I’ll be back.” He was gone not waiting for us to reply. We had little idea of what he was up to. He returned and extracted an aluminium case from his work bag.
He explained, “From the smell of it, the room below has been closed up and not ventilated for some time. So, whatever was in there, or whatever happened in there, is most likely evident in the atmosphere. With these three glass containers, the insides of which are sterile, I can flush either gas or liquid through them. We simply get the atmospheric footprint of what transpired in there.” With that said, he and Geoff reopened the floor door, and taking a sizeable in breath, Trevor descended the steps quickly and flushed the three glass bottles. He returned with a smile on his face and exhaled.