The man nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his chair as the yacht rode the swell. He’s eaten too much, gloated Brady, and the movement of the sea’s making him queasy. He looks almost green.
“This is my new offer. When you complete the job according to our earlier agreement we will increase your bonus by twenty-thou. Is that acceptable?”
Another twitch of his head acknowledged acceptance. Brady stood up, fished a pair of gloves from his pocket and squeezed his hands into them. He flexed his fingers thoughtfully then retrieved a steel box from a side cabinet. Solemnly he unlocked it. Inside was another box, this one protected by a keypad. He glanced at Prez and then moved to block his line of sight. He stabbed at the numbers, opened it and stepped aside signalling his guest closer.
Inside was a bag containing cocaine with an approximate street value of fifty-thousand dollars. He watched as Prez picked up the bag, judging its weight before he dropped it into an inside pocket of his leather jacket. A cocky grin flashed on his face. His nose widened and his nostrils flared. Brady noticed a missing molar. An agreement had been reached without any argument.
Brady pleasant expression changed. He glared at Prez belligerently until he finally looked away. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as venom laced every word,
“You will do as agreed in our contract ... If I ever see you again your body will be fed bit by bit to the fish out here in the Strait and your gang will be destroyed. Don’t underestimate the resources I have at hand to carry out my threat. I repeat; never again contact me directly. Do you hear me? … You will forget you ever knew me or met me. Do we understand each other clearly?” He moved closer invading the man’s personal space, ignoring the smell of sickness on Prez's breath. His slow clear words poisoned with hostile malice. “Do you understand me?”
The yacht bounced about as the swell roughened. Behind his expensive clothes and conviviality Brady was as hard as steel and as dangerously sharp as a flick knife.
A strangled “Cool man!” was the most Prez could manage.
Brady picked up the intercom and ordered the captain to return to Wellington. Prez disappeared into the toilets and was violently ill. He emerged white-faced and spent the rest of the voyage outside. Unobserved Brady disposed of the steel boxes. They sank quickly.
The yacht docked and Brady’s guest jumped onto the quay almost before it was properly moored.
Brady grinned grimly to himself. He poured another coffee and helped himself to more dessert. It had been an expensive exercise but he knew he would have no more trouble in that quarter. Prez has pocketed his severance pay. The gang would not get another dollar from him. It was all in the contract. No job, no final payment, it worked both ways. He removed the hidden camera and slipped it in his briefcase.
CHAPTER 32
Pania was fed up. All she seemed to be doing was waiting. Waiting for George, waiting for news, waiting for leads. It was extremely frustrating. The nasty emails worried her too. For the last month there had been no progress on any front. Nothing further of interest was reported, no covert operations detected, not even rumours of rumours. The surveillance reports of Prez's landline and MOB calls were analysed and filed. Nothing of significance was noted. It was so boring and with each passing day the Forum opening loomed closer.
Then Pania took another call from Tom at Police Central.
“This might be of interest to you reef maiden!” She groaned theatrically and Tom laughed. “Remember Prez? Recently he travelled to Wellington, where he was observed boarding a chartered yacht which left the harbour for a cruise in the Marlborough sounds. We tracked its route and confirmed that they stooged about in Cook Strait. A strong southerly swell would no doubt have made the trip unpleasant. They returned some hours later. Bruno was waiting. He took photos of his quarry leaving the yacht. It had not been smooth sailing and he looked a bit green about the gills. Despite that he strutted down the wharf looking pleased with himself. Not quite Bruno’s exact words but you get my drift. Because he left on his own, Bruno stayed in position and half an hour later he photographed another man coming ashore. The crew followed soon after. We questioned the girl and the captain and they confirmed the yacht had been chartered. The client had identified himself as Brady Ambler. He was probably American or perhaps Canadian and he’d paid in advance. He had one guest and the meeting had been private. They’d cruised into Cook Strait heading for some fishing in the Sounds when the trip was aborted on Mr Ambler’s express orders. … Do you want us to do a follow-up?”
Pania thought for a moment chewing the end of her pen before she answered.
“I’ve made some notes; email your findings and attach the snapshots. I’ll check them out and then get back to you. Thanks Tom I owe you one.”
Who was Brady Ambler? Was this significant? She passed the name and photos to immigration and suddenly she had a wealth of information.
Brady Ambler, a US citizen involved with charity aid work, had been a frequent visitor to NZ. There were fifteen recorded visits in the last five years. According to immigration forms he had been in New Zealand to set up Change Makers, a new aid network, initially sponsored by ESAP. The date of his first visit seemed familiar. What was significant about that date?
Then Pania remembered. It had been the same time as their first Forum conference. She wondered if that was purely coincidental or was there some sinister connection. There was something else in the information before her that tugged knowingly at her. She read and reread the report, put it down and later she took it home. Finally the significance rested on the words ‘Change Makers’. Rawiri had mentioned there was a Change Makers club in Minginui. She looked at the clock; almost quarter past nine, not too late to ring. She picked up the phone.
“Kia ora.”
“Kia ora Mira.”
“Pania! Good to hear you. How’re things?”
“Fine Mira. How’re things with you?”
“Yeah good.”
“I’m following another hunch and wondered if Rawiri’s free to talk to me for a few minutes?”
“Hang on I’ll pass the phone to him.”
Pania could hear Mira talking to Rawiri in a low voice.
“Kia ora Pania – how can I help?”
“Kia ora Rawiri. I’ve just received some information which has triggered my curiosity and you could say I’m following a line of enquiry.” She laughed. “I have before me an immigration report concerning a certain Brady Ambler, allegedly the founder of Change Makers. I recall when I stayed with you and Mira that you spoke very highly of this organisation and its impact on your school community. I wondered if you still held that view.”
“Brady Ambler? Change Makers? My view hasn’t changed. Should it have?”
“I don’t know Rawiri. This may not be related but Mira mentioned that some locals seem to have extra money to spend and are throwing it around a bit. I asked her if their parents were part of the gang scene. When this connection to Change Makers materialised and I remembered there was a club in your area, I put two and two together. Probably got five, hey? Still I wondered if those kids attend Change Makers or if their parents are involved?”
“I don’t know the answer to that Pania.”
A plan started to form in Pania’s mind as she talked.
“Rawiri, if I could organise a daytrip for your pupils to Te Puia in Rotorua, could you do something for me? The boys could attend a carving workshop at Te Wãnanga Whakairo Rãkau and the girls could get some instruction in weaving at Te Rito. What do you think?”
“Depends what you want Pania. I won’t do police work for you.”
“No no. I just need some information. I can arrange for your school to visit on the tenth, eleventh or twelfth of September. To determine the best date I want you to arrange for all the parents to be rung and asked if they can assist with the trip on those dates and which date suits best. You’ll need both men and women. I’d like a list of those parents who can’t help and the dates
when they are unavailable. If any parent provides an excuse I’d like to know that too. It would be really helpful if I got some sort of idea of who’s who. Who’s involved with gangs, Change Makers and which are the kids with money to burn? … I’d also like you to contact the organiser of your local Change Makers and ask if they’d be willing to sponsor the cost of one of the buses. I’ll get you funding from ‘Art in Schools’ ... Would you do this?”
She waited. She imagined Rawiri considering her proposal. A trip to Te Puia would be a very attractive carrot and he’d be thinking of the kids. She knew that they would love the opportunities and the school would benefit from including parents. Hadn’t he told her himself that he wanted to bring new skills back into the school community but would he be prepared to pay the price? She held her breath and crossed her fingers.
“Okay Pania you have a deal. When do you need the information by?”
“The end of the week! I should book the facilities as soon as possible. You need to decide on a date as well. Tomorrow you’ll get a call from ‘Art in Schools’ about the funding. Do you know roughly how much the transport costs will be?”
“I’ll get that tomorrow. I hope the information I get you is worth it. We will certainly get heaps of value out of Te Puia workshops and the kids will be over the moon.”
Pania could hear the enthusiasm rising in Rawiri’s voice as he warmed to the idea.
“Thank you Rawiri. I hope I get nothing from you and can eliminate the Change Makers link as incidental.”
“I hope so too Pania.”
“I’d better let you go, it’s getting late. Thank you Rawiri. Give my love to Mira and a kiss for Ngaio. Haere Rã.”
Pania hung up pleased with her inventiveness. Later that week she attached the report, photographs and immigration findings in her weekly email to George.
That week she noticed a change to the rogue emails which continued to drop into her inbox. They were full of slanderous, weaselly words which disturbed her with their venom. Pania kept a running total. She’d received eleven since Christmas; all from different addresses, all attacking George. This one was different. It was more specific and she was no longer the sole recipient.
CHAPTER 33
George had had a busy week. He’d attended three different meetings in three different countries and arrived back home exhausted. He checked his emails and noted the one from Pania. It seemed a routine report so he left it for the morning.
The first thing George did the next day was print off the report and read it. It was routine. It referred in passing to the attachments and it was only much later that he had a spare moment to open them. As he read the immigration report his face lost all colour. He clicked on the jpg and Brady’s face displayed on his screen. George stared at it, a knot of dread tightened in his stomach. Don’t jump to conclusions - think, the inner voice of reason counselled. What’s Brady been up to since college?
He made a couple of phone calls. While he waited he searched the internet. There was certainly a lot of information in the public domain regarding Brady, all confirming that he was clearly well respected and recognised worldwide as a man of integrity. There was not a single hint of scandal or criticism anywhere. Strange, George thought, not one negative report. Surely someone, somewhere had detected a flaw in this squeaky clean image? If now why did he have this festering sense of unease? Did it warrant further investigation? He weighed up the alternatives and made a decision. He flicked an email off to Pania. It was then that he saw the incoming email with his name in the subject-line.
The bruising pain in his belly returned. This was much worse than Pania’s report. He felt sick and his head started to throb. It was sometime before he noticed her name on the email and realised that she had received a copy. For once his decision making powers deserted him. He couldn’t ignore it and had no idea how to deal with it. Eventually he forced himself to compose a message to Pania.
CHAPTER 34
Rawiri’s report confirmed that both ‘Change Makers’ and ‘Art in Schools’ had agreed to sponsor the costs and that the eleventh was their preferred date. He commented that he was delighted with the uptake. Most of the parents had volunteered to take part and Pania was pleased to see that he’d included the excuses as she’d requested. She flicked through them. Some had previous commitments and were involved in a fundraising exercise in Wellington. The parents of one child had advised they had planned a holiday in the South Island from the third till the tenth but were available for the eleventh or twelfth. A little mark beside their names indicated their child was one of those with money to spend. She groaned with disappointment and although she knew it was unnecessary she jotted down their names on her desk pad.
When she passed them through the police computer system she learned that they were known dissidents, with a history of protest and civil disobedience. They’d taken part in various land marches and antigovernment demonstrations and had been investigated during the terrorist arrests in 2007 but no charges were laid and since 2010 they’d kept out of trouble. The information held was mildly interesting but had no obvious relevance to her investigation.
She contacted Te Puia and booked carving and weaving workshops for the eleventh, then rang Mira and confirmed the date of the booking.
“Please tell Rawiri everything’s in order. I’m really grateful for his help. At least it removed one of my concerns. I’m sure it’ll be the highlight of the school year.”
“That’s great Pania. I’ll pass on your message to Rawiri. He’ll be relieved and delighted. I hope this outing doesn’t blow your budget eh.”
Pania laughed. “No, it doesn’t. Don’t worry cuz. You should go with them Mira. You’d enjoy the weaving and learn heaps. They have excellent tutors and their workshops are really cool.”
“We’ll see. I’ll think about it and if there’s room on the bus maybe Ngaio and I will go. Thanks … and Pania … take care won’t you?”
“Of course - I’m in no danger.”
“We had a … fantail come inside the other day. I know it’s superstitious nonsense but I felt spooked, as if someone walked over my grave. That night I dreamt about you and … you were surrounded by flames. I know it was only a dream and we don’t believe the old myths but please cuz, be careful.”
Pania shivered instinctively. A fantail inside was bad news, to be followed by a dream was surely coincidental. She shook herself. She didn’t believe all those old wives tales. She turned back to her computer. There was an email from George.
She read it thoughtfully and hoped his assessment was right then she picked up the phone and called Tom.
“Remember Bruno’s Prez? Can you bring him in for questioning? My UN colleague wants to clarify his relationship with Brady Ambler. He’d like to be able to eliminate them as potential security threats to the coming Forum. In particular, would you focus on the source of the money which he’s been splashing around and follow-up on those rumours of a big job?“
“Geez Pania sounds like a waste of time and resources. The guy’s a small time crook and drug dealer. We’ve been keeping our eyes on him and his mates as part of a wider narcotics investigation. He probably doesn’t even know there’s a Forum planned. Are you sure you have authorization?”
“I have and maybe it’s a red herring but we need to eliminate him and Brady from our list.”
“Well, if you’re sure. I won’t do anything without seeing the authorization forms.”
“I’ll send them through. My UN colleague also wants to know everything about Prez's meeting with Brady. You can use the photographic evidence to add pressure.”
“That might take time. He won’t like being interrogated. He knows his rights and we don’t want to jeopardise our undercover operation.”
“Damn it. Tell him you’re not interested in him but in his sailing companion. Offer him immunity, whatever it takes to get the info. I’ll get the legal documentation to you ASAP.”
She put the phone down. She looked
at the email again. So Brady’s charity fundraiser image was for real. Surely that was not the full story? A second email from George arrived as she was still pondering. It was far more serious that the first and she wasn’t sure that she should be waiting for him to arrive before acting. He hadn’t put it into words exactly but she knew that George was really asking her to keep quiet, to protect him. It was an unsettling thought and she was disappointed in him, disappointed that he wasn’t ready to trust her with the truth.
A week later Tom sent through the full Police report. She really did owe him a beer. It had taken hours, days of sustained interrogation and left new questions unanswered. The arrested man had been evasive, denying any knowledge of Brady Ambler, changing his story and then backtracking again. He was clearly hiding something and was also scared. In the end he’d tried to strike a deal and bit by bit it had come out. First the death threat from Brady and slowly what had caused it. Reading between the lines she realised Prez had probably threatened to blackmail the man but that he’d met his match.
Now, finally they had something, small clues pointing to a much larger unknown. The interrogators were satisfied their suspect did not know what the big job was or when it had been scheduled but were equally convinced that he was involved.
On the issue of Change Makers Prez was unhelpful. He had no kids, he insisted, so it had absolutely nothing to do with him. He resolutely denied any knowledge of the organisation or any links to its organisers. He never wavered and eventually he sat silent refusing to answer their questions until they changed the subject. Eventually he admitted he’d signed a twelve month contract with Brady, pocketed a retainer fee. To date he’d received seven monthly payments. In return, he had guaranteed his gang would be available at short notice for a big job. He’d also admitted to regularly receiving a quantity of narcotics. A final payment of double the contract value would be made if and when they completed their assignment.