Crystal Ice

by Warren Miner-Williams

  Captain Gregor Bukovac was dumbfounded when Mikka Haurer faced him on the bridge and impounded the vessel.

  “Captain,” declared Mikka, handing him a search warrant, “we have reliable information that this ship is carrying drums containing a class A drug, namely methamphetamine dissolved in drums of ether.”

  “But Officer Haurer, we have been cleared by Tauranga Customs. We were told we were free to leave.”

  “Yes Captain, I understand. But we need to apprehend your vessel while you were in the process of smuggling the drugs out of the country. It’s all to do with mens rea, what the legal eagles call the guilty intent. My officers are at this very moment inspecting your cargo of ether. Once it has been confirmed that five of the drums contain methamphetamine, then I will ask the pilot to guide us back to Tauranga.”

  “I must protest at this Officer Haurer,” stated Bukovac indignantly. “I will notify our ambassador by radio immediately.”

  “At the moment Captain you and all your crew are under arrest. Your protest is noted. I already have an officer stationed in your radio room and you will not be allowed to use your radio again. Not until your vessel has been returned to you, and that sir, will not be until after your appearance in court. However, I will allow you to telephone your embassy once we return to Tauranga.”

  At that moment Officer Neil Loundes stepped onto the bridge and gestured to speak to Mikka in private. The pair moved away, before Neil spoke,

  “We’ve found the five unmarked drums boss, and the NIK Test was positive for methamphetamine.”

  “Thanks for that Neil, congratulate the boys for me, they’ve done well,” said Mikka to his second in command. Then, turning back to Captain Bukovac, he said:

  “Sir, our chemical test for methamphetamine was positive in five of your ether drums, this vessel is now formally impounded and you and your crew are under arrest for the exportation of a class A drug. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  ***

  From the seaward side Mount Maunganui, Dino Sutic saw the MV Olga Tovic turn back to port. Although he realised what had happened, he took out his cell phone and telephoned Goran Sumovich. It was answered immediately.

  “Goran, what has happened?”

  “We have been boarded by seven customs officers.” said Goran quietly, hiding in his cabin aft of the bridge. “We have to return to port, where we’ll be handed over to the New Zealand Police. It’s all over Dino, they know everything.”

  “Has there been any mention of the flu virus?”

  “Nothing. But they aren’t stupid, they will surely know about that soon. So, I suggest you get out while you still can.”

  “Will do Goran. Goodbye my friend, and good luck.”

  Three hours later Dino Sutic was aboard a Boeing 737 bound for Cairns, Australia. He had an apartment in Port Douglas that was registered in the name Dino and Frančiška Jankovic. It was where Frančiška and he had gone on their honeymoon, somewhere that now seemed as though it were in an earlier lifetime. It was a favourite haunt of theirs, a retreat for those intimate times when they wanted to be together without the kids in tow. Dino felt he would be well hidden there. Hidden but not lost.

  ***

  “Ah, Mr Kolarič, you’re awake again, welcome back,” said Brick brightly. “Now where were we? I remember, I was asking who your contact was in your little band of brothers who kill innocent women and children all across the world. Who pays you the big bucks, my friend?”

  “Fuck off, I’ll tell you nothing.”

  “That’s where you’re mistaken. You will tell me, though when, I can’t say. Now we know about your bank accounts, all of them, including your Irish one. By now,” said Brick, looking at his watch for dramatic effect, “all your money has been frozen and soon it will be confiscated. So, I’ll ask nicely one more time, who pays you your fucking money?” he ended angrily, unable to hold his contempt for the man any longer.

  “Fuck off. In how many languages do you want me to say this? You ignorant piece of American shit, you will never dominate me or my brothers in arms. We will fight you till the last breath leaves our bodies.”

  “OK, let’s have some more fun then. Michael, if you please.” Brick turned to one of his assistants.

  Michael very purposefully allowed the main saloon lights to reflect off the blade of his scalpel and shine in Kolarič’s eyes. Although Kolarič portrayed himself as tough, he was just like any other prisoner they had ever interrogated. Always tough to begin with, then crying for their mothers like babies. And the Chief of Police would be no exception. From behind, Brick put a 30 cm long piece of broken broom handle in Kolarič’s mouth, then he pulled his victim towards his own chest. Kolarič was completely immobile, his hands and legs were secured to the chair, his feet to the floor, now his head was fixed. Michael Adams skilfully cut away Kolarič’s eyelids tossing them nonchalantly over his shoulder. Kolarič’s muffled screams fell on deaf ears, Brick and his friends were there for the long haul and he would break, just like they all did. After the gag was removed Kolarič slumped down in the chair whimpering.

  “My mum always said you should look someone in the eye when you speak to them, she told me its good manners. Well anyway I digress, so now that I’ve got your attention...”

  “Fuck you and fuck your mother, you’ll get fuck all out of me,” interrupted Kolarič, who then spat in Brick’s face.

  “Tut, tut. That’s bad form, very rude,” said Brick, wiping the saliva from his face. “Michael.”

  Michael squeezed the skin of the orange he had been eating close to Kolarič’s face and allowed the zest to squirt oil into his ever-open eyes. Without a gag his screams were animalistic, piercing high-pitched squeals like that of a wild pig caught in a poacher’s trap. They were too loud so another wad of kitchen roll was rammed into his mouth. Drops of Clear Eyes were then dribbled onto his irritated eyeballs to sooth the pain. Too much and the nerve endings would be overcome and die. As the pain faded, the whimpering returned.

  “We have a wonderful array of eye drops for you to sample today, Mr Kolarič. Let’s try a few more, shall we? Here we are, what about some onion?”

  As Michael moved towards his tethered victim, Brick replaced the gag. Once the sulfenic acids released from the onion volatilise and dissolve in the tears it changes into weak sulphuric acid. Weak perhaps, but agony all the same for his already-sensitive eyes. Kolarič screamed again. Brick was a master at delivering just enough of the right kind of pain for his victims to eventually beg for mercy. Kolarič would break soon enough, all it would take was time and a few more common food ingredients.

  After a few more drops of Clear Eyes, the pain was attenuated and the questions continued.

  “You...bastard!” screeched Kolarič, panting for breath to endure whatever came next.

  “Michael, let’s have a little chilli pepper, shall we? I think Mr Kolarič is ready, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I think so too.”

  Kolarič’s screams, though muffled by the gag, were still loud enough to be heard by Joan Anderson, relaxing on deck as she sipped her favourite Belgian beer, Stella Artois. Every now and again Joan scanned the shoreline for any prying eyes or the approach of other boats. As the sun sank slowly towards the western horizon, Brick and his team would not be disturbed.

  42. The Fish that Get Away

  In shock and complete dismay, Tony Graham-Collins stood at the Do Not Cross yellow boundary tape tied across the front of the burned-out shell of Terra Brasil. His life too was a smouldering wreck, like the restaurant before him. This was surely the end, the end of everything in his misdirected life. The realisation that he had lost his family, his home and his livelihood. Possibilities he had previously chosen to ignore, hit him like an express train at that moment. Graham-Collins fell to his kne
es. Two people standing beside him stepped away, as if he carried the plague. Holding his face in his hands, he began to cry and as each second passed his sobs became more and more audible. His life was over, completely washed up, and it was all his own doing. Blinded by the large sums of money he earned he had ignored every moral objection he had had. He was mesmerised by the dreams of an opulent lifestyle which he believed he was entitled to. Now all that was gone, the farm, his family and now the restaurant.

  To the side of the boundary tape, a man watched with interest what Graham-Collins was doing. He took a photograph from his pocket and compared it to the man opposite. They were one and the same. He couldn’t believe his luck. Throwing his cigarette onto the pavement he stamped and twisted his foot on the butt as if it were Graham-Collins’ head. This pathetic excuse for a man was a modern-day Dr Death, responsible for the death of hundreds, if not thousands of people, worldwide. The man, a veteran operative in the shady world of intelligence gathering, had just been presented with one of the FBI’s most wanted individuals.”

  “Hi,” he said, crouching beside Graham-Collins. “You look as if you’re having a bad day. Can I help you in anyway?”

  “No…. I…. I’m fine.”

  “My name is Paul Monroe, I’m an insurance loss assessor, I work for State Insurance.” He wasn’t Paul anybody and he certainly didn’t work for an insurance company, he was in fact a member of New Zealand’s SIS, – Secret Intelligence Service. “Look, I can’t do my job until the fire service has completed their investigation, so I’ve got plenty of time on my hands. Let me buy you a cup of coffee from next door, you look as though you need a caffeine boost.”

  Graham-Collins looked up at the man with the kind reassuring voice. He must be a saint, thought Tony. He dragged the sleeve of his new suit across his face, then smiled at his saviour. “Yes. That would be good, thanks.”

  “Good,” said the would-be insurance assessor, “let’s get you smartened up a bit then.” He helped Graham-Collins up, and then brushed the dust from his trousers. Taking him by the arm he helped him over to the ‘Loaded Hog’ Having sat Graham-Collins down under one of the umbrellas outside the pub, he called over a waitress and ordered them both coffees.

  “I take it you must be Mr Sutic, the owner of the restaurant?”

  “Gosh no, I…I’m just the restaurant manager, Tony Graham-Collins. I just work there.”

  “You must love your job a whole lot to be so upset. I hate mine.”

  “Well, yes I do, I suppose. But surely yours is a lot more interesting than mine.”

  “Hell no, it’s a stinky job. It doesn’t do my asthma much good, plus every client I see thinks we’re going to rip them off. In most cases it’s the other way around. Anyway, they’re not always very pleasant.”

  The agent lied. He actually loved his job, and the highlight of his long and illustrious career was at that very moment sitting right in front of him.

  “Have you seen Mr Sutic this morning?” he asked.

  “Actually, there are two owners, they’re brothers. Dino, he’s the top guy, and his brother Levorko is the other.” Graham-Collins was by now completely at ease with the insurance man with the soft, disarming voice.

  The coffee arrived and both stopped talking until the waitress had left.

  “Strange names, are they foreign, perhaps?”

  “Yes, Croatian.”

  The SIS man laughed “That’s weird, Croatians with a Brazilian restaurant. How did that come about?”

  “Mr Sutic – that’s Dino – spent some time in Brazil and he fell in love with their culture and their food. They had a Croatian restaurant in Wellington at one time but it wasn’t a success. So, they all moved up here to the America’s Cup Village and started again. They did a roaring trade and now they’ve made their name in the market, it’s become a goldmine.”

  “So, does this mean you’re out of a job then? Is that why you were so upset?”

  Graham-Collins looked across the table at his new friend, the smile rapidly fading. His eyes became cloudy with grief.

  “I’m sorry, this must be a terrible time for you, I apologise for my insensitivity.”

  “No, no, it’s just that things are a little bleak at the moment. I’ve just split up with my wife. Such a silly dispute in the scheme of things, and then this, fire. Bit too much for me I’m afraid.”

  “You must be good friends with Dino and Levorko Sutic then?”

  “Well sort of, in as much as an employer/employee relationship allows. Why do you ask?”

  “I can understand you’re upset. If one of my friends had died in the blaze, I would be too.”

  “Pardon?”

  The SIS man immediately understood Tony’s puzzled reaction. “Gosh I’m so sorry, seeing you so upset I just assumed you knew. It’s definitely arson and the guy who set it ablaze died in the flames. Probably a little careless with the petrol.”

  “No, never. Neither of the brothers would set fire to their own restaurant. I knew them both, they were just getting over the arson attack on the farm. They’d never set the restaurant on fire, never.” Though he hadn’t realised it, Graham-Collins had just made his first mistake.

  “Gosh, that’s terrible, they had a farm go up recently? Wow, that’s bad news for their business. State didn’t insure their farm, so we hadn’t heard about that in the office. Do they know who’s behind the attacks?”

  “Yes, some mad Māori woman with a grudge. She blamed both the brothers for the death of her gang leader defacto husband.” Mistake number two.

  “Gangs? They’re pretty ruthless people, once they come after you, they keep coming, I’m told.”

  “Well, this mad bitch certainly does. She’s a self-confessed vigilante with a burr up her butt, not really part of the gang at all. I think that if they found her first, they would do her in. She has put the searchlight firmly on them and they don’t like it. One of her partners in crime died in the farm fire,” he continued, “so perhaps this too is one of them.”

  “Not unless he wears a one carat diamond pinkie ring.”

  Tony’s shoulders sank. “Oh my God, that’s Levorko, he wears a ring like that. That fucking bitch will be made to answer for that. Dino won’t let that go unpunished. Shit, I’d even stab her myself.”

  The SIS man let that statement go unquestioned, the chemist had taken his care and concern hook line and sinker, so he wanted him to continue leaking information.

  “Do you have a lot of trouble from gangs then?”

  A ripple of concern flashed across the mind of Graham-Collins. Why all these questions? But he quickly dismissed it.

  “No, never before. And once this bitch is caught, we shouldn’t have any more either. Ngaire fucking Rakena, that’s who we have to thank for all this trouble.”

  “Hasn’t she got any friends who would continue her battle?”

  “No, she’s the only one left now. She’s the bitch that cut the balls off one of her mates and let him bleed to death. It was in the Herald earlier this week, you must have seen it. It was on the TV as well.”

  “Cut his dick off as well, didn’t she? No one should die like that, no matter what he’s done.”

  “Exactly my point, she’s completely off her trolley, a bloody psychopath. I hope they catch her and lock her up.”

  “Are you worried that she might come after you next?”

  Graham-Collins laughed. “No, I’m just a little fish, she wouldn’t bother coming after me.”

  “A little fish, but an important one though I suspect.”

  “Yes, and not fully appreciated either. I’ve given my life for those two brothers. Now one’s dead and the other has skipped town, I shouldn’t wonder. I haven’t spoken to him in days. I’ve tried both his Auckland address and his Mount Maunganui palace. All I got was his wife, and she hasn’t heard from him either.”

  “Perhaps he’s scared that she’ll chop his balls off as well?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so, Dino
is a very calm and cool guy, not easily flustered. He’s a big fish and he has some powerful friends that he can call upon to sort Ms Rakena out. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re not on their way here as we speak. She’s as good as dead.”

  Graham-Collins once again paused, thinking that he had again said too much, but when Paul seemed so nonchalant about what he’d said, he continued unabated. “Even if she escapes Dino’s goons, then Sonny Rewaka, the Skorpion Gang leader will get her. As I said, she’s as good as dead.”

  “What if Dino is abroad? He won’t have heard what has happened to his restaurant and brother. Does his wife know what’s happened? If she gets the wrong end of the stick from the TV news tonight, she might think that it’s her husband who died in the blaze, not her brother-in-law.”