“Text them and delay them for an hour or so. By then, we will either be finished with our questions or we will have made arrangements for a further chat elsewhere.”
Trev was unsure how he should respond. He pulled out his mobile and texted his chef and the two waitresses and told them to have a coffee down the road on him until he got hold of them. He sensed the agent was trying to put him at ease and this was to be a low-key, non-threatening interrogation. Nevertheless, Trev felt threatened by them. These guys could get his immigration status revoked, and they probably had a number of other ways they could ruin him, in their arsenal. His mind raced with possibilities. Calm down! he told himself, which was easier said than done.
Trev wondered whether he should have lawyer present to make sure he didn’t incriminate himself. It sounded like a good idea, except that he didn’t really have one.
The agent who had shown him his identification card seemed to sense his state of mind. “Rest easy, you’re not in any kind of trouble, Mr Todd, but we do have to talk to you and this might take some time until we are satisfied we have all the answers we require. We basically need you to corroborate evidence we have collected from other sources. OK?”
“Don’t believe anything they say, Trev; you’ll live to regret it. I have,” Sue said from her seat at the bar.
“Now grab yourself a drink and come and sit with us and we will get this straightened out in no time at all.” The agent nodded slightly in Sue’s direction and added, for her benefit, as though she was a naughty child, “If you don’t behave yourself, Mrs Harwood, you can go and wait outside in the car.”
“Can I call a lawyer?” Trev muttered almost inaudibly. He had a pretty good idea what the answer would be, but decided to ask anyway.
“That won’t be necessary at this stage, Mr Todd. As I already indicated, you are not under investigation yourself. We simply believe you have information which will help us unravel an on-going case. I am Special Agent Duke and my associate …” Duke motioned to the other agent who had taken up station by the door, “… is Special Agent Adams. Now, please sit.”
Trev grabbed his drink and sat beside Duke at the table.
“Right, Mr Todd, or can I call you Trevor?”
“Most people just call me Trev,” he replied helpfully.
“OK, Trev it is then,” Duke said, as though they had just met and were starting a casual conversation and he was trying to put Trev at ease. Duke rather spoilt that image by pulling notebook and pen out of an inside pocket of his jacket and revealing the holstered pistol under his armpit Trev had assumed was there.
Duke opened the notebook and turned to a page with a few handwritten lines of text. He tapped his pen against the first line of text and paused. Trev got the impression Duke was waiting for someone to prompt him with some questions through his earpiece. He also assumed the conversation was being recorded and vowed to answer as best he could without incriminating himself. It would have helped if he knew what they were after so he could prepare a few answers.
“Now, I have four or five questions for you,” Duke began. “The first being, how long have you known Mr Bruce Harwood; the second being, where did you first meet him?”
Bruce! Trev exclaimed to himself. He should have guessed. He had not really put two and two together until that moment. In hindsight, it seemed to make some kind of sense. Then he wondered whether Bruce and his own brother Dick were up to something between them but dismissed the idea.
Before he answered, Trev cast his mind back a few months. “Bruce is some kind of acquaintance of my brother,” Trev began. “The gist of the story is Bruce mentioned to my brother over a beer he was coming here. To Portland specifically, and Dick told him I had a bar here and he should look me up.” Trev failed to add that he felt obligated to accommodate Bruce because his brother had basically financed the bar for him. Dick also had the place pretty well wired with cameras hidden all over the place so could keep a good eye both on his brother and on his investment. Trev glanced at his watch. Dick would be asleep most likely and not taking a live feed, but the current conversation would be recorded. Which might be really useful at some point in the future.
“Dick, that’s my brother, suggested this might be a good place for Bruce to base himself while he was here.”
Special Agent Duke glanced over at Sue. Trev failed to understand why, as Sue merely shrugged her shoulders.
“My brother rang me three or four months ago to tell me to possibly expect Bruce. It was not necessarily confirmation, you understand. You know how it is, some people say they’ll catch up and visit but never do, for one reason or another, particularly when they’re travelling.”
This bit of information seemed to interest Duke. “Did you at any time believe Mr Harwood arrived here with any specific purpose in mind?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He didn’t come directly here, and I assumed he would carry on with his trip pretty quickly. Then he and Sue bumped into each other and the next thing I knew he was sticking around, then the two of them decided to get married. Very quickly,” Trev added thoughtfully.
Now he stopped to think about it, there was something odd about the whole episode. He had the distinct impression there was a gap in his memory which, until that moment, he had failed to notice; that at some point in the process someone who looked and sounded like the United States President had sat in this very bar with only him and Myfair for company, waiting for Bruce. Not Bruce and Sue. Just Bruce, even though he had eventually turned up with Sue and the baby in tow. The baby was another mystery all together.
And now he thought about it, where did Myfair spring from. He, and then later on Leaf seemed also seemed to appear out of thin air.
Then somehow the five of them disappeared and he was left alone in the bar late at night by himself, wondering whether someone had slipped something into his drink and he was having some kind of hallucination.
Then the next day everything seemed to be back to normal. Though now he realised that was not the way it had happened at all. Bruce and Sue – and he assumed the President and presumably Myfair – had gone somewhere in the interim. Oh shit, he thought. What have they done to me? Trev started to relate the story to the agents but then thought better of it.
“There was no indication he was looking for anything specific while he was here. Initially he was only supposed to be here for a few weeks before going home, anyway,” Trev added lamely. He was trying to convince himself Bruce was not some kind of international terrorist. After all, the President was still around, although he had not been seen in public recently and was not as visible as he normally was.
“So when did you meet Mrs Harwood for the first time?”
“Sue, er Mrs Harwood that is, dined here a few times before Bruce even arrived on the scene,” Trev replied. “I thought it was an incredible coincidence they knew each other.” Trev paused. “And then there was the baby, of course.”
Duke’s eyelids flickered and he looked at Trev with renewed interest.
“What baby?” he asked. The existence of a baby in the story mix was news to him.
“Bruce and Sue’s baby, naturally.”
Duke made a note in his notebook and then tapped his earpiece. He doesn’t realise he’s doing that, Trev thought; it must be some kind of unconscious habit. It also just confirmed for Trev someone was on the other end of the wire prompting the questions.
“Did you ever get the idea Mr and Mrs Harwood had met before?” Duke asked on a slightly different tack, pretending the baby was of no consequence.
“Yes, I did,” Trev replied. “I know this’ll sound really odd but initially I don’t think they knew where. But after they came back from their trip away, everything seemed to have fallen into place for them.”
“What trip?” Duke asked. This little nugget appeared to be news to him as well.
“The trip they look with the President and Myfair, Bruce’s very odd friend.” Trev had not meant to blurt this information o
ut but could not help it in an attempt to ingratiate himself with the two agents in the hope they would just go away and leave him alone.
“What do you mean ‘a trip with the President’?” There was clearly a lot of things Duke was not in the loop about.
Then Duke paused and tapped his earpiece a couple of times. “Yes sir!” Duke barked for all to hear, and stood up.
“OK, Mr Todd, you uttered the magic words. We need you to come with us, please. Text your staff they can have a few unexpected days off on full pay. Actually, give us your phone and we’ll tell them.” Duke held out his hand for the phone.
Then before he had time to process what was going on, Trev found himself being bundled into one of the ubiquitous big black SUVs these guys all seemed to tootle importantly around in, just like they did on television, with Sue all the time managing to keep his drink in his hand.
“Told you so!” Sue smirked at him.
Somehow Sue being right failed to make him feel better.
Eleven
Back on planet Earth things were getting a little tense at the Harwood homestead. The Tauroas were demanding their daughter be returned to them forthwith. Doris Tauroa was understandably upset, and Rangi Tauroa was demanding to speak to Moore’s superior officer in order to get some action on his daughter’s disappearance.
Good luck with that, Moore thought. Nobody I know can get any sense out of him so I doubt you will, even if I could get him to take your call. Moore was loathe to say anything out loud in case the comment found its way back to his boss.
Instead he said, “We don’t have them in custody Mr and Mrs Tauroa; if I could present them to you, I would. We have no reason to have your daughter in custody, and we don’t have any reason to have Mr Harwood in custody either,” he added rather lamely.
“Just how long have you been watching this place?” Rangi asked.
“Several days now,” Moore admitted a little sheepishly.
“So why are you here? I’ve known Cyril Harwood all my life and there’s no way he would do anything illegal.”
You would be surprised, Moore thought, what people can and do get up to with the right motivation or coercion.
“What about his son Bruce?” he asked. “Bruce is a bit wild and rough around the edges, but he isn’t the kind to get himself tied up in drugs or any criminal activity.” Rangi had always been happy to leave Ngaio in Bruce’s care because, unlike many of the other local kids their age, he had an unusual sense of responsibility and a good nose for determining right and wrong, for someone so young. “He’s not the type.”
Moore bit his tongue again. He was about to add there was no type. People got involved in drugs or various forms of criminal activity for many reasons, sometimes reasons beyond their control, or because of a simple error of judgement or lapse when under the influence of something or someone. Often it was the most unusual of people, successful people, who got caught up in the drug scene because they succumbed to the allure of taking the drugs or making money off them, or believed it was somehow glamorous to inhabit the criminal twilight world without consequence. Or, as was often the case, they thought they were too clever to get caught. Not understanding, until it was too late, there was always a consequence to getting too involved with the drug scene – it was a high-return, high-risk business, and the kingpins were ruthless.
However, Moore was convinced this situation had nothing to do with drugs at all. Something beyond his understanding was unfolding around Bruce Harwood, which Moore was at a loss to explain. Because it didn’t appear terrorism was the subject either, so maybe some economic or white-collar crime?
Leaf decided to choose that moment to come out to the kitchen to see what all the noise was about. The latent, inquisitive side of her nature suggested she should be trying to understand these offworlders a little better – the way events were unfolding she could be living amongst them for some time to come. She though they might also like to know that Bruce was on his way back, although he could have told them himself if he had thought about it.
Both Rangi and Moore turned to stare at her as she stood watching them from the doorway without any signs that she felt threatened by the tension between the two men.
“They’ll be back soon,” she informed them.
“What do you mean they will be back soon? How do you know?” Moore asked.
“I am in communication with the Mobile Security Platform. The patrol ship,” Leaf added for clarity in case the offworlders didn’t understand, which she thought was likely in the circumstances.
“What ship?” Moore walked out onto the kitchen deck and searched the harbour for any signs of a vessel out on the water.
“Where are they? What have you done with them?” Rangi demanded of Leaf as he realised the police really didn’t have his daughter locked away somewhere. Rangi had been reunited with his rifle and in one fluid movement he picked it up from where he had propped it beside him and aimed it at Leaf, working the bolt as he did so. Then he remembered at the last moment that the policeman who had returned the rifle to him had handed the magazine back separately and it was still in his pocket. He hoped he could bluff the woman into revealing some more information anyway.
However, to his horror a compartment opened in the women’s forearm, and he found himself staring down the barrel of some kind of weapon, one he was pretty sure was loaded. His aim wavered and he started to look for a way out of the situation as his wife started to sob beside him.
“OK, that will do!” Moore said and interposed himself between Rangi and Leaf, pushing down gently on the barrel of the rifle before taking it out of Rangi’s hands and handing it to one of his officers. He gave Rangi a gentle shove to make the old man sit down on one of the kitchen chairs and when he turned he was relieved to see the woman, Leaf, had lowered her own arm, and he watched in awe as the weapon folded itself away and the compartment closed again.
“What the hell was that?” Moore asked nobody in particular.
Leaf seemed about to say something then thought better of it. She turned around and went back to her seat in the lounge.
Moore breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good news then,” he said to the Tauroas.
Rangi nodded his head, he felt like a beaten man. Faced down by a woman in front of his wife. How was he ever going to live this down? He would never hear the end of it at home. In thirty-odd seconds his whole life had been turned upside down and his masculinity had been stripped from him.
“There there, dear,” Doris Tauroa said to comfort her husband. “Ngaio will be back with us soon.”
Moore followed Leaf into the lounge where she was watching television. “Do you have any indication of how long they will be?”
“Not long,” Leaf replied enigmatically.
Moore was about to ask a few more questions but he saw little point in making an effort at this stage. He considered himself a pretty good judge of character – you had to be, to be successful in his line of work, and he had also undertaken enough interrogations to realise this woman was not readily going to give up any information she did not feel she had to. It was not so much that she had anything to hide – people like her simply did not feel the need to share information that they didn’t feel they had any valid reason to share.
“OK, then,” Moore replied, uncertain how to respond and proceed.
Trev assumed he was going to be taken to the local cop shop or some other government facility to be interrogated – there wasn’t another way he could think of describing what he thought was going to happen next. The FBI building, maybe, for some kind of grilling. However, their destination turned out to be a boardroom in a nondescript office building in the centre of town, which stunk of dog shit and industrial strength sanitiser.
“Make yourself at home while we sort out the equipment here,” Agent Duke told him. “We’ll have a few other people online who may also want to ask a few questions. OK?”
Trev shrugged his shoulders. He thought he was fuc
ked so there was no real value in not cooperating with these guys. Whoever they were. He took a last swig from the glass he still held in his hand then made his way to the kitchenette at the end of the room where he poured himself cup of coffee from the machine gurgling away on the bench.
“Do want a coffee as well?” he asked Sue.
“Thank you, yes I will.”
“Do you know where Bruce is?”
“You know the car that was blown up on the interstate outside Las Vegas yesterday with a bunch of terrorists inside? Well, supposedly Bruce was inside the car. Well that’s what these guys believe anyway. I doubt he was now, and the forensic people don’t appear to have found any bodies. It’s a bit of a mystery and it has them worried.”
Trev’s heart skipped a beat. The agents had lied to him, well perhaps been elusive with the truth. Was Bruce was involved in some kind of terrorist activity? The whole concept left him more than a little shaken. If not terrorism, what the hell had Bruce been involved in? He was a lot of things but some kind of fanatical extremist? That was stretching credibility a little.
“Because Bruce …” Sue started to explain until Agent Duke cut into the conversation.
“Now, Mrs Harwood, there is information we want from Mr Todd and there is information we want him to corroborate if possible. Then there is information we are not about to share with Mr Todd. Are we quite clear?”
“Right, Mr Todd, please take a seat and we will begin. The sooner we can get started, the sooner we can send you on your way. Now, take us back through the events leading up to and including when you met Mr Harwood for the first time and Mrs Harwood becoming one of your regular customers. Then finally how the two of them met in your bar for the first time.” Duke paused for a few moments then added, “There are some remarkable coincidences here that seem in some respects just too good to be true.”
“It didn’t quite happen like that, them meeting up in the bar. I mean, as far as I know they had met up before somewhere in town, which was certainly a coincidence.” Trev paused for a moment trying to piece the sequence of events together.
The Lifeboat Page 27
