‘Yes, sir. The last door to your right leads into the loading bay. The roller shutter should still be open. Straight through to the wharf.’
‘Did the boat bringing the Paradise camp gear arrive?’
‘I’m not sure, sir. Check with anyone around the wharf.’
‘Right. Tanielo, go with Petero. Back in a minute.’
He broke into an uneven jog. Through the warehouse and onto the wharf apron. A sturdy launch lay alongside. No one was in sight. Breath rasping, he ran across to the boat. The cabin hatch was open. He shouted ‘Police!’ and rapped on the cabin roof. A slipway alongside the wharf led up to a boatshed, also open, and also devoid of workers. If only he’d got here earlier—if only he hadn’t given in to his self-indulgent impulse to look at rugby shoes for the Shiners he would have got here 45 minutes ago! Holding on to the cabin roof, he swung down to the deck and stuck his head through the hatchway. A man lay face down on the bench that ran the full length of the dim cabin, his head cradled on his arm. He was snoring—sonorous, rhythmic snorts and crackling exhalations. He’d probably been up before dawn and now, the day’s duties done, was grabbing some well-deserved shut-eye.
‘Kerekere. Police! Wake up!’ Horseman yelled in Fijian.
The man heaved himself up, swung his feet to the floor and peered up at Horseman through narrow slits of eyes. ‘What’s up, Ovisa?’
‘Police enquiries. Come up on deck, please. Anyone else on board?’
‘Take it easy, Ovisa. Only me.’ The man slowly dragged himself onto the deck. He was in his fifties, weather-beaten, dressed in faded navy canvas shorts and a T-shirt. Horseman introduced himself, showed his ID.
‘I don’t need your ID, Josefa Horseman.’ His voice was gravelly with sleep.
‘What are you doing, sleeping on the FIMS boat?’
‘I’m a FIMS boatman. We cast off early tomorrow morning, so I’m spending the night here. No one minds me doing that occasionally. No harm in it, eh?’
‘Did you carry cargo from Paradise Island camp this afternoon?’
‘Io, Ovisa.’
‘Who was on board?’
The boatman looked puzzled. ‘Why, the students. Sitiveni and Anil. Good boys, they are.’
‘Did a woman ovisa speak to you? Slim, pony tail, navy skirt, orange blouse?’
‘Ah, the young Indian lady? Is she an ovisa? My goodness! Such beautiful eyes! Yes, she spoke to Anil in Hindi. She seemed to know him. They walked back through the warehouse together.’
‘Where are the boys now?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. They could still be unpacking the gear and stowing it away. They might be in the laboratories, or storerooms, or the warehouse. Or they might have left the fish factory already. Very probably,’ he said, gesturing at the fading light.
‘Which storerooms will they be using?’
The man yawned, patted at his mouth. ‘The ones in the Biology Department, I suppose, but I can’t be sure. I’m just a boatman, you know.’
He certainly looked the part, and Horseman understood his irritation at being hauled from his bunk. ‘Vinaka, boatman. Ni sa moce, good night.’
Horseman was hurrying back to the warehouse when his mobile rang. It was Taleca. The Sea Track passenger lists had arrived, and Sitiveni Doka’s name was not on any of them between Thursday, when Dr Chakra died, and yesterday. Horseman asked for backup as soon as possible. The players were at last moving into position. It was looking like Anil and Steve could be conspirators in murder, not just wildlife smuggling. With or without Lee? Or one could have murdered both Nisi and Dr Chakra without the knowledge of the others. Why? Because both victims presented threats to the smuggling business? But they were hardly professional criminals. Would Anil or Steve really kill to protect the few hundred dollars Lee paid them irregularly? Surely there must be something more, something personal, to drive these young scientists to murder in cold blood.
He wished his mother would call with the answer to the question he’d asked. He checked again for missed calls or messages. He rang her number again, left another message and pocketed the phone, disappointed.
51
SUVA
The storage bays at the back of the warehouse were neat—nothing was on the floor waiting to be put away. Horseman retraced his steps through the Biology Department. A door was open. He peered in cautiously. Musudroka’s head was bent, his back turned to the door. He was talking to someone shorter than himself.
Horseman walked into the room ‘Bula Tanielo, good! Where’s Petero?’ The shorter man was handcuffed, sullen. A red mark on his jaw.
‘Petero had to get back to the gate, sir. Anil Gupta refused to come back to the station with us, so I had to handcuff him.’
‘Good! Anil, I’m Detective Inspector Horseman. Where’s my colleague Detective Sergeant Singh?’ he asked courteously.
‘I told this constable already. I haven’t seen her. If she came here to see me, she didn’t find me. She went away again. Simple!’ Anil emphasised each point by punching his cuffed fists into his thigh.
Horseman kept his voice pleasant. ‘The boatman heard you talking together, Anil. Saw you walking into this building together. Where is she?’
Anil shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t tell her anything about the attack on Mr McKenzie. Then she left. Inspector, I want to make a formal complaint about this constable. He assaulted me, punched me in the face. My jaw could be broken. I need urgent medical attention!’ Veering out of control now, he shouted his laughable demands.
‘All in good time, Anil. You can make a statement when we get back to the station. But we can’t go back to the station without Sergeant Singh. Petero, the security guard, saw her enter through the gate, but she didn’t leave.’
‘Ha! That’s good, coming from that lazy bastard. He’s always skipping off, yarning with his mates. Sometimes he’s even away from the gate officially, like when he had to bring you here. Obviously, she left without him seeing her.’
‘Stop changing the subject. Again, where is Sergeant Singh?’
‘Again, I don’t know.’
The insolence reminded him of Dr Chakra. Maybe they both had too much education and not enough sport. ‘Where’s Sitiveni Doka?’
‘Steve? I’m not sure. I think he went home.’
‘Finished all your unpacking, did you?’
‘Yes. I stayed back to wash some of the stuff and work on my notes.’
Horseman yawned wearily. ‘Anil, please listen to yourself. You lied barefaced when you told me you hadn’t seen Sergeant Singh this afternoon. Then, when you’re caught out by the boatman’s evidence, you change the subject to allegations against DC Musudroka, shift your ground, and lie again, claiming DS Singh left FIMS, despite Petero being certain she didn’t. You’re behaving like a small child! You’re a post-graduate student. Anyone would assume you’re highly intelligent unless they could hear you now. It’s in your interest to tell the truth. You will eventually. My advice is to do so now. Maika’s told us about your greedy little smuggling ring. So much for scientific research, eh? I used to respect that. Now I know you’re just grasping, crooked hypocrites.’
Anil was cooling down now but his quivering hands strained against the cuffs. ‘Relax, Anil. You’ll hurt your wrists. It’s time to tell me what happened when you came back into this building with Sergeant Singh.’
Horseman glanced up and spotted the top of a black head through the high louvers of the corridor wall. Motioning Musudroka to stay where he was, Horseman raced to the door.
‘In here, Steve!’ Anil shouted.
Steve ignored the summons, fled back down the corridor and into another room, slamming the door behind him. Horseman found it locked.
‘Police, Sitiveni. Detective Inspector Horseman. Open up. You’re not going anywhere.’
The lights inside the room went out. Silence. ‘Come now. Be sensible, Steve.’
Then Tanielo was beside him, holding out a card. ‘Sir, I’ve locked Anil in the lab.’
Thuds came from further down the corridor. Anil must be taking his temper out on the furniture.
Horseman whispered. ‘Let me in and lock it again. Stay here. Don’t let him get out. I’ve already called for backup, but you radio again.’
It was almost dark. He found a switch and turned the lights on, but couldn’t see anyone in the large lab.
‘I know you’re in here, Steve. I’m Detective Inspector Horseman, here to escort you to the station for questioning. Please show yourself.’ Three sides of the room were fitted with cupboards below the benches. If they didn’t have internal shelves, a man could hide there. He circled the room stooped, opening the doors, fast as he could. All were shelved and packed with equipment. He straightened up painfully and noticed for the first time an internal door set flush in the end wall. An interconnecting room. He prayed it didn’t have its own door to the corridor.
‘Open the door, Steve!’
He flattened himself against the wall and tried the handle. The door wasn’t locked. He kicked it back but it wouldn’t open beyond 90 degrees. The light from the lab shone only a little way in. The room hummed. Then a crash inside and a roll like thunder. A heavy cylinder, like a kitchen gas cylinder, bowled through the door. He sidled through the doorway and felt for a light switch. None. The room was packed with stuff—dim piles and bundles around the walls and a great rectangular stack in the middle.
‘Steve! Give up now!’ He shouted into the dimness.
A grunt and something hurtled towards him at chest height. He ducked. It glanced off his shoulder, smashed into the wall beside him. Another cylinder, heavy as lead. It came from the other side of the central stack of boxes. As soon as he entered the passage around this stack, Steve would run out the door. Summoning all his will, he catapulted himself into the dark over the central stack before Steve could throw another lethal missile.
One hip caught a hard edge of the stack, which wobbled as he landed on top of a flailing body. He pinned the thin boy down with his own weight, extracted a bony wrist and snapped on one cuff. Before he could grab the other wrist, a dull grinding alerted him a split second before heavy weights pounded onto his leg. His good one. He must have unbalanced the stack above him. His leg was wet. Christ, a corrosive chemical? He pulled away, dragging the bucking, grunting body beneath him along the floor, groping towards the door and the narrow band of light. He heard more thuds behind him, and high-pitched crashes like glass breaking. Liquid streamed along the floor. There was no smell, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t toxic. The boy now started laughing wildly, but his violent thrashing was tiring him. Laughing or crying, he wasn’t sure. With an immense effort, he pulled an arm from beneath the writhing body, wrenched it behind his back and cuffed it to the other.
‘You’re arrested, Steve. I’ll go through the formalities when we’re out of here.’ Steve lay on the floor, raw gasps and sobs shuddering his body.
Horseman clutched at some boxes to heave himself up, found the light switch behind the door, cursed the carelessness of the unknown electrician, and leaned against the wall, panting. A heap of tiny aquarium tanks, each holding a single fish, glittered before him. Dozens more, some shattered, glinted on the floor, their occupants’ fins flapping like wind-up bath toys. As he stared, the unstable face of the stack slipped away, more tanks teetered and smashed on the floor. His most surreal crime scene ever.
Steve lay trembling, quiet now. Horseman was not gentle when he hauled him to his feet; he could barely stand upright himself. Pain like slivers of glass stabbed his shoulder, hip, legs, underscored by the deep throbbing of his knee.
‘Constable!’ he yelled. Musudroka appeared, looking alarmed. ‘Alert FIMS security. Damaged property. Glass—and fish. It’s a mess. There’s a wall phone over there.’ He turned to Steve, who leaned against the wall, tears running down his face. ‘Before we go to the station, where I’ll charge you, you’re going to take us to Sergeant Singh.’
Musudroka hung the phone up. ‘They’re coming, sir.’
‘Good. Escort him, Constable. Lead the way, Sitiveni.’ Musudroka gripped the prisoner’s arm, Horseman gave an encouraging shove and Steve turned left down the corridor towards the loading bay. Anil was still banging away in the lab further along.
‘It’s no use anyway. She’s awake now,’ Steve muttered. What? Did he mean Singh? Steve stopped before they reached the room where they’d left Anil. Horseman could hear muffled growls as well as thuds. The door vibrated.
‘In here. My card’s in my pocket,’ Steve said, resigned now.
‘Susie, it’s Horseman. Everything’s alright now. Move away from the door if you can.’ More thuds and softer shuffling came through the wall.
Musudroka whipped out the master key-card and opened the door. She was sitting, mouth taped, wrists cuffed, legs bound with cord. Her mouth was distorted by the gag, her inflamed eyes blazed with fury and relief.
‘Radio for an ambulance,’ Horseman told Musudroka quietly.
‘Bula Susie,’ he said. ‘We’ve been wondering where you’d got to.’ He dropped beside her, supported her chin with one hand and eased the tape away, gently pulled the gag from her mouth, then cut her bonds, uncuffed her hands. He rubbed her ankles briskly while she gingerly massaged her jaw.
An approaching police siren blared, then stopped. ‘Our back-up, Tanielo. Hand Steve over and bring two officers here to take Anil away. I’ll stay with Sergeant Singh until the ambulance comes.’
Her hands dropped into her lap, as if their weight was too much for her. The skin around her nose and lips was blotched with red lumps. ‘Susie, you’re going to be fine. An ambulance is coming to take you to hospital for a check-up, those blisters look like they need treatment.’
She glared at him. ‘No way!’ Her voice was a croak, but an angry, determined croak. Then her eyes dulled, welled and rolled back. She crumpled forward into his arms. He wondered if he’d ever be able to tell her he’d been discussing rugby shoe prices over tea while she lay drugged, imprisoned in a cupboard. Probably not, he was too ashamed.
52
SUVA
Steve sat hunched opposite Horseman in the interview room. The fight had gone out of him. But there was plenty of fight left in Singh. She had refused to stay in hospital overnight, refused to go home and rest. Insisted on interviewing Steve with him. Said she couldn’t trust herself to be calm and professional with Anil. The intensity of her fury with Anil surprised him a bit. He would have asserted his authority, and should have, but she was far from well and he was strung on tenterhooks, not knowing how to treat her, not understanding her state of mind or body. Dr Young had come promptly when he called, warned her that the after-effects of chloroform could linger for some days, but she forced him to admit no lasting damage would be done.
So here they were together, both determined to find out why Nisi had died. They at least understood the motive for Dr Chakra’s murder now, and knew who killed him, for half an hour ago, Horseman had received a text from his mother: YES. SITIVENI DOKA.
‘I’m glad you’ve realised the game’s up, Steve. You’re an intelligent man. Tell us the whole truth now and it will go better for you in court. We can prove you didn’t go to Savusavu. We’ve checked the passenger lists and you haven’t travelled on any Vanua Levu ferry during the past week. You didn’t fly either. You admit that?’
Steve shrugged, hanging his head.
Singh cut in. She clearly had no patience left. ‘You must speak for the recording, Steve.’ Her grated voice was fierce.
‘No, I didn’t go to Savusavu.’ He mumbled sulkily, but it was a beginning.
Horseman continued. ‘But it was a good cover, wasn’t it?
Everyone knew you’d gone to visit your mother. So no one would suspect that you were the one who crept into Dr Chakra’s bure at the resort and injected him with deadly snake venom while he slept. Why didn’t you hit him on the head? Or stab him? It was a lot of trouble to go to. And you can never claim you killed him by accident, or on the spur of the moment.’
Steve looked desperate. ‘B-but it was an accident!’
Horseman was all good humour. ‘Of course it was. You accidentally found a syringe full of venom and accidentally crept to Dr Chakra’s bedside and plunged it into him!’
Steve looked at them straight now, spoke fluently. ‘He’s such a shit, lapping up the high life on Paradise—just watching him and knowing what I know got me so wound up. I wanted to punish the sleazy bastard, wanted him to feel what it’s like to be helpless, when the neurotoxin’s doing its work. He shouldn’t have died for at least twenty-four hours, maybe two or even three days. There’s anti-venene developed for Australian sea snakes. Even the Australian tiger snake anti-venene works with banded sea krait venom.’
‘How preposterous! It took two days for Fiji’s top pathologist to discover it was snake venom that killed the doctor. Just who do you think was going to front up with the right anti-venene before he died?’
It was Steve’s turn to be reasonable. ‘I thought Professor Burgermeister would be at the resort. He’d recognise the symptoms straight away and could get the anti-venene—we’ve got it at FIMS.’
‘Looks like you gave him the wrong dose then, doesn’t it? Any jury will believe this was murder.’
‘He was totally pissed. Are you sure he didn’t have a heart attack?’
‘The pathologist’s sure, that’s more to the point. Look Steve. I know you must be bright, you think you can get away with a manslaughter conviction, don’t you. But I don’t buy your “accidental” scenario.’
Steve shrugged.
‘How did you get out to Paradise on Thursday night?’ Horseman asked.
DEATH ON PARADISE ISLAND: Fiji Islands Mysteries 1 Page 29
