Private Sydney

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Private Sydney Page 12

by James Patterson


  Geoff’s eyes beamed. ‘They disguised this place to look like farmland. Fake houses, fake roads, dummy roofs to hide the hangars.’

  I thought it sounded a lot like Eric Moss. Something hidden in full sight.

  A helicopter’s rotorblades started up.

  ‘Robinson R44?’ Mary asked.

  ‘You’d get on well with Eric. He loves military history and flying.’ Our host pointed to a helicopter that landed on a pad in front of another hangar. ‘Eric pilots the one we have at Contigo.’

  I knew Eliza hadn’t mentioned that skill. Maybe she didn’t know. She had said that her father didn’t like flying that much.

  If Moss had access to a helicopter, the odds of us locating him just got a whole lot worse.

  Chapter 64

  ANY INFORMATION GEOFF Andren could give us was critical. He had vital knowledge no one else at Contigo was willing or able to share.

  ‘It would help us to know a little about Mr Moss’s routine, especially with travelling to and from Contigo,’ I said, pleased Mary had gained his confidence.

  ‘I always had the plane at the terminal, ready for take-off as soon as Mr Moss arrived.’

  At the four-seater Duchess, Geoff hesitated. ‘All staff were issued with advice from Sir Lang not to talk to private investigators.’

  ‘We don’t want you getting into trouble, but we have real concerns for Eric’s safety.’ Mary made the powerful point.

  The pilot shoved both hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on the plane wheels. ‘He gave me a job when I was let go from a commercial airline. He’s been good to me from the start.’

  Moss’s intentions may have been noble, or he deliberately recruited people who were at a disadvantage and most likely to be compliant.

  I asked why Moss chose the Duchess.

  ‘His work was unpredictable. The Duchess is the most efficient way to get him around.’ He proudly touched the wing. ‘Extra instrumentation means she’s more capable in rough conditions. We’re over the Blue Mountains to and from Contigo, so he wanted something that could fly even in bad weather.’

  The pilot asked Mary which military bases she had worked on, which quickly segued into which installations he had flown Moss to. The list was extensive.

  ‘I thought he spent most of his time in Contigo Valley,’ I ventured.

  ‘True, but there are frequent short flights. Anything from one to four a week.’

  ‘To the bases?’ Mary was almost drowned out by a plane taking off.

  Geoff explained, ‘Often Mr Moss is in transit at the bases. Sometimes I see the other plane he’s meeting. Otherwise I leave him alone to wait on the runway.’

  The notion struck me as odd. ‘How do you mean alone? With the people he was meeting?’

  ‘Funny thing, I never saw anyone else. Not even the other pilot. My instructions were to wait in the lounge if he was gone for a few hours. Otherwise, I’d fly home and then go back for him. The longest he was away was three days.’

  ‘Anyone return with him?’

  ‘Not that I saw. He was always standing there alone when I arrived to pick him up.’

  ‘What did he take with him? Luggage? Did he bring anything back?’ The whole thing seemed highly suspicious to me.

  ‘He only ever had the same duffel bag. Khaki, about so big.’ He made a shape about 60 centimetres wide and 30 centimetres high.

  The bag wasn’t large enough to fit much of anything in apart from a laptop and maybe a change of clothes. ‘Do you know what was in it?’

  ‘Never saw. That thing didn’t leave his side. He always insisted on carrying it himself.’

  I now understood how Moss had managed to leave the country without a passport. He was using military planes, which meant there was no available record of where he’d been.

  Yet we still had no idea who Moss actually was, or who he was really working for.

  Chapter 65

  JOHNNY FELT THIS was the break they needed to find Louise’s killer, and baby Zoe. He entered the radiology practice in Manly where a series of ultrasounds had been billed to Louise Simpson’s Medicare number and credit card. She was a victim of identity and medical fraud. Paying her bills automatically meant it could have gone on indefinitely if the amounts weren’t enough to raise suspicion and Louise didn’t scrutinise every transaction. Like most people, she seemed to have just scheduled payments to avoid late fees.

  Johnny suspected the fraudster was using other identities as well. This imposter knew not to be greedy and risk exposure. Otherwise, she could have cleaned out Louise Simpson’s account, taken out loans and financially ruined her for the sake of a quick pay-off. This woman had other plans. Surrogacy was her way of leeching money from desperate couples. They could hardly report her to the police if things went sour, given their involvement was illegal.

  A soap opera blared on a large TV screen to a waiting room full of children and elderly people.

  Johnny joined the queue at the reception desk, wondering if he should have done medicine after all. The radiology business was booming.

  ‘Request form?’ A middle-aged woman held out her hand without looking up.

  ‘I’m not here for an X-ray. I need to see whoever’s in charge,’ Johnny began.

  ‘I’m sorry. Doctors only see technicians and equipment reps with appointments. You’ll have to wait until September.’ She tapped at a keyboard.

  Johnny showed his ID, leant over the counter top and said quietly, ‘I’m investigating this practice’s involvement in Medicare fraud in the case of a young mother who was brutally murdered.’

  That caught the receptionist’s full attention. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  She wheeled back her chair and rushed off behind the scenes.

  Nothing like the mention of murder and scandal to get action, Johnny thought.

  A small man in a shirt and tie appeared with the receptionist. She was flushed and tugged at the hem of her shirt.

  ‘I’m Dr Kwong,’ he said. ‘Please come this way.’

  Johnny followed him down a corridor and into a large X-ray viewing room. Multiple lit boxes held films of chests, limbs and sections of a brain scan.

  ‘How can I help you?’ Dr Kwong offered a seat.

  ‘You may have seen on the news,’ Johnny said as he sat, ‘a woman was murdered in Killara. Louise Simpson?’

  The doctor lowered himself into a chair. ‘My wife went to church this morning to pray for her and the baby. Do you know if she has been found?’

  ‘Not yet. The woman who died supposedly had scans performed here recently and I need to see documentation of who did them and why.’

  ‘With any patient and medical record, there are strict confidentiality issues. I have to check with the Medical Defence Association before we can speak about any cases, even a deceased patient.’

  ‘I respect legality and ethics.’ Johnny leant forward. ‘There were a number of charges for ultrasounds billed to your practice. We believe Louise Simpson’s Medicare number and credit card were used in those transactions. And because of that an innocent young mother is dead. A whole lot of trouble is about to rain down on this place.’

  ‘I’ll make a quick call,’ Dr Kwong said. ‘What do you need to know?’

  Chapter 66

  GEOFF ANDREN WAS taking replacement engine parts to Contigo Valley and agreed to take us there so we could see firsthand what Eric Moss had built. I wondered if it would give us any clues as to why the Americans were so desperate to find him. All things going well, Geoff estimated we’d complete his business and the three-hundred-kilometre round trip in four hours.

  We climbed on board and were handed earphones with microphones. Geoff checked his flight plan and cleared us to taxi. Once the engines were on, my stomach felt unsettled. Lack of sleep, food and a neck ache were adding up. I also hoped Collette would be safe. I had no idea who we had been targeted by. I disliked putting a team member at potential risk without knowing who we were up against.
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  The one positive was that we’d be back in time to monitor her house and provide backup for Johnny and Darlene.

  We were soon cleared for take-off. The engine hummed louder and we were seamlessly in the air.

  Mary and Geoff chatted about the plane’s technical features and I closed my eyes for a few minutes. I could fly in helicopters and large planes. It was the small ones that unnerved me. I’d known at least two people killed in them, both due to pilot error.

  And for some reason, I couldn’t get Eliza Moss out of my head. The feel of her hands, the smell of her citrus perfume.

  The hum and vibration of the engine hastened the need to doze.

  I was startled by Mary tapping me on the leg. ‘You’ve got to see this,’ she said into her mike.

  We were flying west over the Blue Mountains. I’d never seen them from this perspective.

  ‘Gillies Falls.’ Our pilot pointed to the right side.

  The site was spectacular even if clouds were moving in.

  ‘We may be in for some turbulence,’ Geoff warned.

  With the plane buffeting, we passed Lithgow and came on a spectacular green valley, like something from a lost world.

  ‘That’s Contigovale, known locally as CTV. It isn’t part of the organisation but is dependent on our staff to stay afloat.’

  There were a small number of buildings on the ground, more like a village than a town, I thought. It had what appeared to be its own runway.

  Mary asked, ‘How much land does Contigo own?’

  ‘Thirty-three acres surrounded by grazing land and national parks. The actual base sits above the valley, by the Casta River.’

  This had to be the wealthiest non-profit organisation in the country. It made me more than curious to find out where Moss really got all the money.

  Chapter 67

  WE FLEW OVER a series of shipping containers, one of which was located next to a helipad.

  ‘Did Eric ever invite guests out here with him?’ I asked.

  ‘Bankers, potential donors, celebrities, politicians. We’ve brought people who begged to come out and be photographed here.’

  The engine buzzed and the aircraft dropped a couple of times.

  ‘We fly everyone over this spot to show them what we’re developing.’

  ‘What’s in those?’ Mary pointed to the containers with helicopter access. There was nowhere else to land.

  ‘Collateral, resources. Each is filled with millions of dollars’ worth of high-tech equipment and can be opened if bankers need to see them before they approve loans. They view a couple at the base first, but they’re free to see the others if they wish.’

  I was curious about the funding. ‘Did the GFC affect the organisation and make it more dependent on loans?’

  Geoff checked the instruments and adjusted something I couldn’t make out. ‘The tours increased for sure, when donations slowed. Banks were banging on Mr Moss’s door, throwing million-dollar loans at him. Mr Moss is good with people. A hands-on guy. He was on every tour, answered every question. Equipment sales and contracts repay the loans and all profits go straight back into research and development.’

  Mary prompted, ‘Were international businessmen interested in investing or donating?’

  ‘Sure. Everyone from the Chinese, Russians, Indonesians and Americans wanted to invest, even a Bollywood actor. Not that I knew who he was, although Mr Moss said he was a superstar.’

  ‘Do you know which ones shook on deals?’ she pushed.

  ‘Couldn’t say. That was all done back at the base.’

  I tried to elicit more on the secret trips. ‘Did you ever wonder who he met on those other bases, or where he went?’

  The plane shuddered a little. ‘Wasn’t my place.’

  We were no wiser about the contracts missing from Moss’s office safe.

  I had to know what the pilot thought. ‘Do you think Eric chose to resign?’

  ‘I can’t believe he would, and by email? This is a man who does deals with a handshake. He doesn’t text or email you. He phones. It’s all personal.’

  ‘Do you have any idea where he might have gone?’

  ‘Wish I knew,’ Geoff admitted. ‘This place was his life. He would never have given it up without a fight.’

  We took in the near-vertical sandstone cliffs below; adjacent fields merged into dense forests. If Eric Moss hadn’t absconded and instead met with foul play there were infinite places to dispose of a body out here.

  Chapter 68

  JOHNNY AND DR Kwong reviewed the scans and billings. The first was performed at eighteen weeks’ gestation. The report by Dr Kwong’s colleague described a foetus with significant abnormalities of the lungs, heart and brain. Dr Tan concluded that the developmental abnormalities were incompatible with life. The baby was unlikely to survive beyond twenty-four weeks. The second scan described an eighteen-week pregnancy. The irregularities were identical. Only this scan was performed three weeks later.

  Dr Kwong pulled up the dates on the films and viewed the first. He then located the second on the computer and placed the video recordings on dual screens. The angles and close-ups were identical.

  ‘If this is the same pregnancy,’ Johnny asked, ‘could the dates have been wrongly typed in?’

  Dr Kwong’s brow furrowed. ‘Different ultrasonographers, different days should produce unique scans no matter the condition. Each ultrasound is like an original piece of art, dependent on pressure, position of the baby and mother, depth of abdominal tissue among a host of other variable factors.’

  He searched computer records for another few minutes. Johnny checked his watch. All he wanted to know was who had access to the billings and who fraudulently presented Louise’s details.

  Dr Kwong used the phone and spoke in what sounded like Cantonese. ‘My colleague will join us shortly,’ he said and viewed the third scan. It looked exactly the same as the others.

  An older gentleman wearing a green surgical gown and protective glasses entered the room. Dr Kwong introduced Dr Tan, describing him as their most experienced interventional radiologist.

  Dr Tan took a seat at the screen as the videos were replayed.

  He moved closer and craned his neck.

  ‘I remember this patient. From a couple of years back. She had already suffered a number of miscarriages. The baby died from a rare congenital condition not long after that scan.’

  ‘Do you know the name of the syndrome? I mean, is there a database of cases like it, carriers, for example?’

  He shook his head. ‘I can tell you their name wasn’t Simpson though. They were first cousins from a small village in Lebanon. I remember because the mother spoke English but the father needed an interpreter. She was too distraught to tell him.’

  ‘Are you certain the scans are all identical?’ Johnny needed to be sure.

  ‘There is no doubt,’ Dr Kwong answered.

  So the doctors had just confirmed what they’d suspected – that the woman claiming to be a surrogate was using the same scan, with altered dates, to con couples.

  The question was, how had she managed to pull it off?

  Chapter 69

  JOHNNY POINTED OUT that the unknown surrogate using Louise Simpson’s identity was their only link to finding the missing baby. Dr Tan was keen to cooperate.

  He explained that the only way to date the scans and patient details was within house. The machines themselves embedded the names and dates into the scan. Either someone re-entered details on to a copy of the scan, or had somehow managed to copy the videos and alter them on the main computer system.

  Johnny wanted to know every other possible means. ‘What about obscuring details for teaching purposes? If you send them to someone else, can they alter the information and print out images?’

  ‘In theory, that’s possible. However, most doctors obscure the patient details with a sticker or leave them blank.’

  It still meant other doctors or ultrasound technicians theoretical
ly could alter patient information.

  As expected, the reports were even easier to change. The practice logo and wording could be done by anyone with a computer and printer.

  The realisation seemed to hit both of the radiologists hard.

  Because the original scan with the Lebanese couple had been performed in their practice, they had to consider that one of their employees was involved in a murder and baby kidnapping. They both wanted the source found and punished. Johnny doubted either of them was personally involved in the scam.

  Dr Kwong provided a list of employees with accompanying photos that had been taken for ID badges. A total of forty-four full- and part-time staff. Nearly half were male, which left twenty-three potential female suspects. Johnny knew that the Wallaces could identify the surrogate they had met. If the woman had a male accomplice, he’d have to consider investigating the men and their partners. At least the photos were tangible.

  What kept him positive was the fact that the other scans had been billed to the same practice. In case anyone checked, there would be a paper trail to suggest the scans had all been performed in Manly.

  Johnny needed to be sure the location was significant. Given the Wallaces had met the supposed surrogate at the nearby Queenscliff Beach, he reasoned this was the most likely source of the fraudulent scanner. He knew that if he was wrong, the time wasted investigating the staff could cost baby Zoe her life.

  Chapter 70

  GEOFF ANDREN TAXIED to a hangar at the north end of Contigo’s base. A security guard met us but didn’t check our IDs or ask us to sign in, something I found surprising. We weren’t provided with visitor badges either. That meant we were free to wander unmonitored.

  The guard, Arnie Pymble, offered to show us around while our pilot disappeared to meet with the maintenance crew. From the air the place had resembled a university campus, with summer camp touches. Buildings were separate, connected by concrete paths. The corporate office was dwarfed by a research and development section. A basketball court, indoor swimming pool and gymnasium were featured on our brief tour.

 

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