Quinn was in Sydney by 4am. He drove directly to a suburb on Sydney’s north shore, and parked within sight of a large house where he slept at the wheel of the car, until he was awoken by the sound of traffic.
He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he watched the house. A short time later its front door opened and Sudovich walked from it to his Mercedes motor car. Quinn noted the man’s manner of dress and was glad to see that the businessman had not changed his routine. With this knowledge in mind he followed the Mercedes through the tree lined streets to Sudovich’s destination. Where Sudovich parked his car, and took a golf bag from it to a large building.
Quinn checked his watch and noted the colouring of the sky in the East, guessing that the sun would be up in probably fifteen minutes.
He reckoned he’d seen enough, and left the car park to drive his car around the golf club’s landscaped perimeter of lush trees and thick bush.
After a short reconnaissance he decided it was time to sleep, and a motel close to the golf club suited his needs. He pulled into its car park and booked a ground floor room which gave him a view of the bush land. He slept until midday and then returned to the clubhouse. Hired clubs and played each of the fairways until he found a good place to lie up.
Quinn rested at this spot and allowed some other players to play through, watching where their balls landed at this juncture.
The fairway was narrow and bunkers on the far side could be avoided by playing to this side of the fairway. It was bordered by bush thick enough to give good cover and he memorized the spot for he would have to find his way to it in the dark.
There were not many players on this part of the course now, so he ducked into the bushes, chose a secure area and checked its field of view.
He was happy with what he saw.
Quinn moved further into the bush until he came upon a fence line. He climbed it and fought more bush until he came to a track.
His motel was in sight, and he got bearings from the surrounding landscape which would help guide him to this place during darkness.
He remembered that the moon was waning, and should be high when he made his trek across the bush land to this point on the fence line. Satisfied with his plan, he returned to the fairway and finished his round of golf.
*****
Sudovich looked at the carriage clock at the far side of his office and decided he had waited long enough.
It had been a long day and he was tired.
Having not heard from Weston, he would have to be patient until tomorrow and then wait again.
He wished that people were easier to contact, but understood that the man’s work probably involved a certain amount of travel. To God only knows where, and to adventures that Sudovich felt he was most definitely too old for.
Sudovich was in the situation where he needed Weston badly. He needed the man to be placed in the small outback town now.
Right now.
Time was slipping away, and he knew that when Simon left where he was now known to be, he may be hard to locate again.
His office window overlooked the highway traffic. It was thinning out as the rush hour had passed, and would offer little difficulty on his way home.
He looked again at the clock, and made a move to collect the few papers he needed to take home to revise for tomorrow’s business.
Sudovich was like all other humans in taking the future for granted. He put the papers into a small attaché case, along with a mobile phone and a new set of C.Ds. He kept them with him now, and he smiled as he noted his cleverness in thwarting future thefts by the C.D bandits.
“Bastards!” He spoke aloud.
The phone sounded as a call came straight to his office. His secretary redirected calls onto overnight extension as the last of her office duties each working day. He picked up the hand piece, wondering whether this phone was still secure. It had been only connected up for a short time, but he wondered anyway.
He dropped into his soft chair.
“Sudovich,” he answered.
The English accented voice that whispered into his ear sounded tight lipped.
“Ah! Mr. Sudovich. My name is Henry Horton.”
“I don’t recall your name Mr. Horton. What is it that you want?”
“Mr. Sudovich I’ve just flown in from Sierra Leone by way of South Africa. I think you may familiar with that part of the world. Sierra Leone, I mean.”
Sudovich was stunned.
Unable to, at short notice, come to terms with the way that the conversation was heading. He felt an overwhelming need to field his way carefully, like a barefooted man who found himself in a patch of burrs.
He couldn’t control the slight tremble in his voice, so he tried to steer the conversation on a different course.
“What is happening over there? I heard on the news there was a revolution or something. Is the government still in power?”
Horton stated easily as if Sudovich had asked for the time of day or simple street directions.
“It doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Are you sure?” The question seemed to speed from Sudovich’s slack lipped mouth.
Horton replied casually in a way that to Sudovich sounded weary.
“I’m absolutely sure. I organized redundancy packages for some of its members personally.”
Sudovich’s heart quickened. The sound of the man’s voice seemed to crawl into his open ear, and he wondered if at any moment he might shiver. He didn’t, and was left with the feeling that one has after a succession of sneezes. Sure that there will be one more sneeze, hoping in a way that there will be and kind of disappointed when it doesn’t come.
Sudovich’s confusion willed him to just tell Horton to stop pissing around and get to the point, but his nervousness restrained him. Horton’s mention of Sierra Leone could mean only one thing, and that thing was most certainly Abu’s lost fortune. The fact that he was even having this conversation suggested to Sudovich that Horton was also searching for it.
Now he needed Horton to confirm it for him, but he delayed in asking the man outright. Almost as if he believed that if he didn’t raise the question, then maybe the question wouldn’t be raised at all and the man might just go away.
Sudovich had buried his head in the sand at times in the past. It hadn’t worked then either.
Horton furthered the conversation.
“Mr. Sudovich, a couple of days ago I met with an associate of yours. He gave me a bag of valuables. Along with these valuables were some documents which show of your dealings with him. These documents suggest to me that you and maybe another associate of yours relieved Mr. Mohammed of a certain sum of money. I would have liked to further my discussions with him, but unfortunately he fell out of a helicopter. Of little consequence normally, but on this occasion the helicopter was some distance from the ground.” The shiver finally came upon Sudovich. Not because of Horton’s voice, but because of the fact that he’d suddenly been placed at the top of another slippery slope. Sudovich at that moment felt very much afraid, and he silently cursed the man named Simon West.
Horton listened to Sudovich’s silence for a moment, knowing that he had driven his point home.
“Mr. Sudovich, Mr. Mohammed insisted that I take all that was his. Now taking into consideration that your partnership with him was probably based on a fifty-fifty split, it would appear that you owe me a little over sixteen million American dollars.”
Sudovich squirmed in his seat as a panic swept through his brain.
“But I don’t have the money. I didn’t get it.”
“Come now, Mr. Sudovich. Mr. Mohammed dealt with you, and the money left on its way to you. Are you trying to tell me that it got lost in transmission?”
“Yes,” he stumbled. “No. No. It was stolen, and I have people searching for it now.” Sudovich was thankful for the silence which presented itself from Horton’s end of the line. Fleeting moments, and each one of them graciously accepted as a short interval that all
owed him to try to sort the thoughts which raced through his brain.
The fleeting moments were soon over.
“Mr. Sudovich. Are you a family man?”
Sudovich was unsure what to expect next, but he had a feeling deep in his gut that the time for threats had arrived. He remained silent as he waited.
“Mr. Sudovich. Your silence suggests to me that you are. I find that to be very interesting, because I see in the telephone directory there are only three listings for the name Sudovich in the city of Sydney. I can only presume that your family lives at one of them? I can also presume that this moment in your life is probably the only time in your life that you wish that your name was Smith, or something similarly common.”
Sudovich listened intently to the pause.
“Do you have any children Mr. Sudovich?”
Sudovich felt a chill. It seemed to frost him to the bone as a vision of his three teenagers flashed through his head.
His kids gave him a headache at times. As teenagers will, with their fluctuations of manner, temper and general revolt, but they were his kids. He could lose the money and still live, but if he lost his family, then no amount of money would allow him the same quality of life.
For the first time in his existence he realized the enormity of affection that he felt for them, and his basic need to be part of a family.
He felt his back to the wall, and then a certain resolve seemed to descend upon him as his priorities suddenly became clearer. His family came first, and all other things were just general factors in life.
He sat up in his chair and spoke clearly into the telephone.
“Listen, whoever the hell you are Horton, I will tell you this, and I will say it once only. I don’t know where the money went; I mean I don’t know where it is. I do know it was stolen from Abu Mohammed. Someone intercepted a communication from Abu, which was supposed to come to me. The person who intercepted the communication stole the money. I knew nothing of the theft until the African told me about it, and then he asked for my help in finding it.”
Horton was silent for some seconds.
“What proof can you give me to back up what you say?”
“The man who has stolen the money is called Simon West, and I can give you precise directions that will lead you directly to him.”
Horton’s voice changed and Sudovich couldn’t quite guess if it had gone quieter or just colder.
“Mr. Sudovich, I did ask for proof, not directions. How do I know that you are not just sending me off on some wild goose chase?”
Sudovich felt he was finally gaining some control of the situation. He could feel it in his bones that he was about to be in his element. They’d been through the introductions, now it was time to talk business and talking business was what he knew best.
The threat had passed.
He sat back in his chair and spoke quietly into the telephone.
“I very much doubt that your name is Horton, but until the time comes that you have to tell me your real name I will call you that. Now as far as...”
“What makes you think that I will have to divulge my real name to you?” Horton interrupted.
Sudovich smiled to himself as he had played his only ace.
“Mr. Horton. Do you understand the basic rules of international banking? I mean I will give you Simon West, but when you find him, don’t expect that he’ll be carrying thirty million dollars around with him in a suit case.” Sudovich paused for some seconds to allow this information to sink in before he continued, “I’ve no doubt that West has it stashed in a bank somewhere.”
Sudovich’s voice lowered into a matter of fact tone, almost like a teacher who explained a small problem to a pupil.
“Mr. Horton. When you deal with a foreign government and use the method that the African usually used, the monies owed by that foreign Government are paid from bank to bank. West would not have seen any cash; he would have only made his presence known in order to sign the documents necessary for the transaction to be completed. As they say, the proof is in the pudding. In this case, Simon West is the pudding and the proof is in his head. When you catch him you will have to remove this proof from his head in whichever way you find practical. Then, when you have that information you will need to make your identity known to me because I think you will need my experience and expertise to acquire the money.”
Sudovich felt that he could almost hear the man thinking, until once again he heard Horton’s voice. It too seemed thoughtful.
“What makes you think that I will need you to help me to carry it through?”
Sudovich knew that this was going to be the tricky part.
“Before you go off to where I’m sure that West is, I will make available to you a document that you will have to get him to sign. It will give us the authority to access his account. I already have a Swiss bank account, an empty one unfortunately, but it will suit our needs. I will also make available to you another document which will allow you access to that account. Basically, it will be worded in a way, to say that you are the beneficiary of half, and only half, of the amount that is deposited. For example, if we deposit thirty million U.S dollars then fifteen is yours. The document will also state that I will only be able to withdraw fifteen million dollars; we will have both of our arses covered. I will write the document that way, because you did say at the beginning of our conversation that your main interest was in the African’s share.”
Horton was interested; Sudovich could hear it in his tone.
“If I agree to this arrangement, where do we go from here?”
“I will give you directions to where our company’s plane is located at Mascot airport. The pilot will be waiting for you, and he will have the banking documents for you to look over. After you have done this, he will call me and I will make known to you West’s location. When we are both agreed, then the pilot will take you to the outback town’s airport. You will be given an untraceable car which you will drive to the thief’s location.”
Horton was impressed.
“You are a very clever man, Mr. Sudovich.”
Sudovich thought to himself. Perhaps that is your arrogant way of admitting that I am as clever as you, arsehole.
“There are one or two other things Mr. Horton.”
“And they are?” Horton answered cautiously.
“I may appear to you to be very clever Mr. Horton, but unfortunately I’m not infallible. You will be the third person who has gone to find Simon West. The first two appear to have disappeared for I’ve not heard from either of them. This may suggest that Simon West is a dangerous man, or maybe he’s just very persuasive.”
Horton was slow to reply, and Sudovich was glad of the man’s silence, because it showed a lack of bravado. Bravado to Sudovich was a weakness, a weakness which more often than not led to carelessness.
“Mr. Horton, there is one thing more to understand. Simon West’s precise location was known to me yesterday; he may, or may not be still there today. I say this because, I want you to be assured you will be furnished with the correct information which should lead you to him. After all, my share in the bank account depends on you finding him, and relieving him of the information that we need. Proof I hope, to you that I have no desire to send you on a wild goose chase. If West has relocated, then I have no idea where he may go, or for that matter how we might relocate him. That will be in your hands mainly as you will be on site. If I can give you any assistance, then you have only to call this number. I will also give our pilot my mobile telephone number. Would you say that up to this point we are agreed to go ahead?”
Horton was surprised at the way that Sudovich had taken a direct threat to his family, completely turned it around and twisted it into a simple business arrangement. Usually he had to at least carry out part of a threat to gain compliance. In this case Sudovich had countered his basic thrust, and used it to form a plan which should be in both their interests.
“Mr. Sudov
ich. I am impressed, and most certainly agree.”
“Very well Mr. Horton. When the pilot gives you a sealed envelope you should open it and view its contents. You will notice a space left for you to print your real name. A space will also be left for you to sign the document. Beside your signature, the pilot will sign as witness to your signature. Make sure you date the document.”
Sudovich spent the next few minutes giving Horton directions to where he would find the plane, and finished his side of the conversation.
“Good luck Mr. Horton.”
“And good luck to you too Mr. Sudovich.” Sudovich put the phone down and sat back in his chair. He felt good. Almost elated, and he smiled to himself as he took a fat cigar from a drawer in his desk and lit it.
He had two safes in his office. He opened the second one and withdrew a C.D which he inserted into his computer. On it was a copy of the directions he had made available to Peter Quinn, and a copy of the document that Quinn was to have had signed by West. There was also a copy of an older bank document that he’d used in the past to cover the African’s arse. Minor alterations only were needed, and they would cover his arse also.
He made a call which interrupted the pilot’s plans. His instructions were that he would receive two envelopes. The first he was to give to Horton and after it had been signed, he was to call Sudovich. When this call had been made he was to then give Horton the second envelope.
Sudovich then telephoned a messenger to deliver the two envelopes to the pilot within the hour.
He was still on his high when suddenly he hoped, that Lee or Travers didn’t need the airplane tonight.
He’d been lucky so far. As far as Lee and Travers were concerned anyway, but it was nearing the end of the month and bills would have to be paid. One being the planes fuel bill and the second was the pilot’s wages which were associated with a time sheet. Barrett being the accountant that he was wouldn’t fail to note inconsistencies.
He took from the second safe a diary, into which he entered the names of Horton and Weston. He made no other entry as he felt the names only would be enough to remind him of this afternoon’s eventful conversation.
After all, he could complete the entries tomorrow. By then he would hopefully have results to record as well.
Touch wood, he thought. He put his cigar down and punched numbers into the telephone, listened to the voice at the other end as it was answered.
“My name is Sudovich. I called earlier, have you heard from Mr. Weston yet?”
It didn’t hurt to hedge your bets he thought.
CHAPTER 31
End It With A Lie Page 31