End It With A Lie

by Peter M. Atkins

Tuesday 4 am.

  Lee’s mood was just plain rage which prompted him to command his motor car aggressively. It bounded out through slowly opening electrically operated front gates and onto the quiet suburban street. Where its tyres squealed loudly, almost competitively, with its howling high revving engine and offered a combined noise, which would without doubt leave Lee’s neighbours less than impressed.

  It also alerted an old ginger cat that had been scrounging about the street. The headlights of the fishtailing vehicle, along with its screaming roar confused it to the extent it scratched at the tarmac surface of the road in its effort to get to safety.

  The cat’s quiet life was suddenly interrupted, and its experience in dealing with the hazards of life in the city had not equipped it with the exercise needed to avoid a fishtailing vehicle. Its tried and tested method of evasion was, avoid the lights, avoid the car. A basic manoeuvre that was popular with cats and usually easy to perform. The vehicles headlights swept back and forth, almost in time with the cats indecision. As it scratched the tarmac a second time to change direction, it realized it might be about to use up another of its nine lives.

  A split second later it discovered it may be its ninth life, as it bounced off various mechanical automobile parts before being thrown out from under the rear of the vehicle.

  Lee saw the cat too late and shortly after it disappeared from his view he heard a thump as the animal passed under the car. His troubles with Kane and the wooden crate began to pale in significance, compared to the scary ordeal of dealing with Mrs. Brown.

  Lee slowed the car and pulled to the side of the street, parking close to the kerb whilst trying to put his thoughts into order. He felt sorry for the cat for a while, until he remembered the few contacts he’d had with the animal in the past. As he sat in the darkness he considered the times he’d cursed Mrs. Brown’s cat for its tomcat stink and its noise.

  The cat had certainly interrupted his sleep at times with its late night wailing. There were also the mornings when he’d decided on breakfast on the back porch only to be met by its eye watering stink. As he considered the cat’s demise and his part in its end, he felt less sorry for it. After some minutes he felt almost glad he’d done it in. He laughed out loud as a thought occurred to him, and he visualized a newspaper headline, ‘Underworld figure whacks neighbours cat.’ He laughed uncontrollably as his frustration began to lift, and as he wiped away his tears of mirth he looked around and over his shoulder. The houses in the street were quiet and there were no lights visible.

  Anyone who had woken to the noise he’d made, would surely, after a brief look into the street, be back in their beds by now he thought. He looked at his wrist watch and decided the ‘crime’ he’d committed was only five minutes old, so the crime scene was still fresh.

  He’d turned off the cars headlights when he’d parked. Now as he pulled the car into gear he left them as they were and turned the car around towards where the cat lay in the middle of the road.

  Pulling up beside its body he left the car to pick up the cat by its tail, then walked around to the boot, lifted the lid and dropped the cat inside. He was still chuckling lightly as he quietly closed the boot lid and returned to the driver’s seat. Safely inside and hoping he’d been unobserved. He again pulled the car into gear and cruised slowly to the next side street, where he turned left towards the main highway.

  As he went he said to himself.

  “There you go Mrs. Brown, no body, no motive and you can only guess at the weapon. Tom Lee has whacked your stinking cat, and if you accuse him he will admit to it and say that he took the cat from the road in an attempt to find a vet. I’m very sorry Mrs. Brown. It was a terrible accident, but you have to admit that it was an effective way of stopping it from pissing on everything. For that reason, its passing will more than likely be celebrated by everyone in the street.” He’d travelled a short way down the highway with his mind still totally involved with Mrs. Brown’s cat when suddenly his mobile phone called for his attention.

  “Shane. What’s happening?”

  Shane voice came to Lee with a rasping sound, breathless from his early morning run.

  “Mr. Lee. I ran down the road as quick as I could, but I missed seeing which direction the van went.”

  “Did you see its number plate or anything?

  “No. Just a dark coloured van with no lights. The three blokes in it looked like they knew what they were doing. They were in, loaded and back out again in short time, pretty smooth.”

  Lee was silent for a short time before he instructed.

  “Right. Look, there’s nothing that we can do about it now. I want you to sit tight for the rest of the day. Keep me informed as the day progresses. Let me know everything that goes on in there today. Who comes, who goes, delivery trucks whatever. How are the boys getting along?”

  “Dion’s a bit fidgety, but Charlie’s keeping him in line. I’ll tell them we might be out of here tonight sometime that be alright?”

  “If you want, you can tell Dion he can leave. You and Charlie can handle the job, can’t you?”

  “No Mr. Lee. He won’t go on his own. He needs me or Charlie with him or both of us. He doesn’t like being on his own.”

  “Alright Shane, you know him better than I do. Whichever way you do it, just keep me informed, eh?”

  He rang off, and immediately dialled Larry Barrett’s number.

  “Larry. Time to get up son, there’s work to be done.”

  Lee waited a moment for Larry to wake before he continued.

  “It’s nearly four thirty and time for your early morning run. Ha. Ha. Listen, I’ve just talked to Shane and he tells me that three men in a dark coloured van have broken into Grey Street and stolen the wooden crate. I don’t want to talk about it over the phone, so I’ll see you in the club as soon as you can make it. Be quick Larry, I’ll be there in twenty minutes and I want you there soon after, right?” His next call was to Dan the Man, and shortly after he placed a call to Mika.

  Lee had fifteen trusted troops in his employ. He gave instructions to Dan and Mika to make sure that all of them understood they had work today, and that he expected no excuses from any one of them. After he’d broken the connection and put the phone into its battery charger receptacle, he considered the work that had to be done on this day.

  Dealing with the reasons behind Kane’s existence, and whatever it was he had going on in Grey Street was one thing, but what crazy idea could be behind the theft of an empty wooden box. He considered the problem for some minutes more before he compiled his thoughts.

  “Point one; the wooden box is, correction, could be, a serious threat. There’s nothing I can do about it outside of killing Kane, and even that mightn’t solve the problem, particularly if Kane is only the front man.”

  “Point two; what is it that can be so important about a bloody transformer, to Kane or his employer, that they’d be prepared to pay Sudovich a fifty thousand dollar down payment just to import it for them. A two hundred thousand dollar import they could have imported themselves for a tenth of the cost.”

  “Less.” He corrected himself.

  Lee consoled himself, even though he was uncertain about Kane and his mysterious wooden crate, he was certain about the work that he and his people would carry out on this day, and the next if necessary. He would take out insurance. After all, that’s what most people did if there was a hint of a threat to their goods and chattels. As there was no insurance company that would cover this particular problem, then he would cover it himself.

  The first thing he would do would be to have Larry bag all of his assets. Business, real estate, everything he could safely strip from Sudovich Holdings and transfer offshore, just in case this mild form of hiccoughs became a serious influenza. While that was happening, Dan and Mika and the rest of the troops will be out on the streets calling in all loans. Sell off as much stock as possible. Bring in as much cash as possible in the shortest possible time, an
d most importantly, as quietly as possible.

  Lee knew he would have to work quickly, because as soon as the story hit the street that he was pulling in stocks, it might appear to some that he was in trouble. Once his competitors had a sniff of that possibility, it wouldn’t be long before they started to infringe on his turf.

  They’d dip a toe in at first just to test the waters, and if he didn’t react then they’d try to move in permanently. With too many people crowding the starting blocks they could find themselves confronted with a trade and turf war. If that happened, then a lot of people would get nervous, and Lee knew from experience the complications that could arise when criminals got nervous. He knew it eventually boiled down to shoot first and ask questions later, which in turn, only made people more nervous.

  It could get a little tricky, he thought. But he was trying to cover his arse here, and if it upset anyone else then that was just too bad. They’d just have to look after their own freckles.

  Lee had direction. He had a plan, and he felt good as he drove towards his club. There was a new day about to begin, and by the end of it he was sure he would feel a little more secure than he had in the most recent past.

  It was funny, he thought. It seemed he had turned a corner with the wooden box problem. His thinking had become clearer and more positive since he’d whacked Mrs. Brown’s cat.

  “Should have killed it a week ago,” he said out loud as he pushed his foot down hard on the accelerator.

   

  Tuesday 9.30 am.

  Tuesday morning saw Ben Preston in his office. Having risen early he’d made his way into work before sunrise with a heightened sense of excitement. The feeling in his gut made him feel more alive than he’d felt for some time.

  Being close to Lee, as close as anyone had ever been, had caused his blood to flow more readily. Now he needed Lee to make his next move, and as Lee had made initial contact with Beth, Ben knew he would visit her again.

  He also knew, or was quite sure anyway, where that second visit would take place. Lee would probably not return to her place of residence, he thought. He would go to where he expected the money to be, and that was at her office.

  His overbearing arrogance would carry him there, where he would most likely waltz into her office unannounced as if he already owned the place. Ben would have both places wired to make doubly sure and enhance his chances to pull off the perfect ambush.

  He was in an interesting position. It was not often that people in his profession had knowledge of a crime before it was committed. It did happen at times, but usually it was based on information gained from informants whose advice may or may not be accurate. This information was accurate to the extent he had the where, why and how.

  With a little patience he’d have the when.

  While he waited for the when he’d have the where wired for audio and visual. A few secreted electronic accessories would record each footfall of Lee, and with these in possession would come the power to legally turn the world upside down for the crime boss. Give it a few extra shakes too, he thought. There was one drawback though, and it almost hurt him to think about it.

  He needed Beth to help him, and this she was prepared to do, but in doing so she would be the one out on a limb, and Lee would be the arsehole who held the saw.

  Ben wanted Lee badly, but he felt an awkward need to keep the limb intact. Not necessarily only for her sake, but also for the thirty million dollars and the plans she had for its disposal. The two reasons which his humane side used in its plea for a small justice.

  Thirty million dollars he reminded himself.

  It was a lot of money, and indeed it appeared to be the reason for at least five deaths already. That is of course, if he took Sudovich and the missing man Scott into consideration.

  Ben knew he was officially obliged to investigate the circumstances surrounding the deaths of all these five people. He also knew he could officially put that investigation aside for the moment, if he had reason to believe another investigation held priority. Tom Lee held utmost priority at this time, and his gut feeling emphasized that belief

  He glanced at the clock on the wall, and as he noted the time he saw Anderson and Rodgers enter the operations area. He’d summoned them earlier and was pleased to see they were punctual. He asked for the door to his office to be closed, and as they neared his desk he invited them to sit, and then asked Anderson,

  “Rodney, you’ve brought Alan up to speed on your outing yesterday?”

  “Yes Sir. Up to the point when I left the women’s flat upon your arrival,” Anderson replied.

  “Good man,” Ben said.

  There were two brochures on his desk. He handed them one each and then sat quietly while they read.

  The brochures were outlines of the Sarah Ray Foundation. Much the same as the charity brochures that ordinarily turned up in most people’s mail boxes, with pictures of skinny African children and drought ravaged crops. They also displayed the function of the Foundation, and the way the profits were to be dispersed.

  Beth had, had them printed up, for even though Simon’s money offered a firm base fund for the Foundation, she would still advertise for private and public donations.

  Rodgers spoke first.

  “Is this where the thirty million went, Boss?”

  “Unofficially Alan, yes. It seems that West stole the money and then hired Beth Cooper to manage it. She has documents in her possession that should, unless under very close scrutiny, prove she accepted the job from West without any knowledge of where the money came from. West was careful on her behalf, and set it up so if anyone ever asked any questions then she’d be in the clear.” Ben drew a breath before he continued.

  “The situation now is that Tom Lee, being Sudovich’s silent partner, has turned up on her doorstep. He’s demanding what he calls his share of the money. I’ve spoken in depth with Cooper, and I know that she, being the one responsible for the Foundation will be scrutinized and audited like any other charity. Hence I believe the money is in good hands and will be used as the brochure states, so I’m prepared to let it be.” Ben let what he said so far sink in, as he studied carefully his two apprentices’ faces.

  “This is where there’s a slight problem. I want Lee, but I also want to keep the Foundation aside of that investigation. So, I might want to steer the investigation into Lee in ways that may not be totally by the book.” When no question of dissent seemed evident, and with no sign of fresh questions from the men, he persisted,

  “In regard to your question Allan, I said unofficially because I wanted to keep you both in the loop, and let you both know where I would like to go with this. I will be retiring from the job in seventy-two days. You two both have your whole careers ahead of you, so if any shit hits the fan, then I’m totally the responsible party. If anything comes up at all in the future, then all the two of you know is what you knew before this briefing started. If you agree to do it my way, then this conversation never took place.”

  Ben sat back in his chair and looked at them in turn.

  “If you decide we must do it by the book, then the thirty million could end up in the politicians’ and lawyers’ pockets.” Now would be a good time to go and make a cup of tea he thought. Give the two men a chance to talk.

  “Tea or coffee?”

  “No thanks, Boss.” Rodgers said as Anderson asked for coffee.

  Ben returned some five minutes later bringing two cups. He seated himself and looked at each of the two men in turn.

  “O.K then, what’s happening?”

  “We’re in agreement with you Sir, but I reckon that Lee, if we can get him, will spill the beans on the Foundation at his first chance anyway. So what’s the point in hedging around? We want Lee, but if we get him this way, through Cooper, then the Foundation is going to be in it up to its chin isn’t it?”

  Rodgers was the younger of the two men, and even though Ben knew he was going to become an excellent detective, it wa
s yet to come with experience.

  Ben looked to the more experienced of the two.

  “What’s your feel of the situation, Rodney?”

  “Under normal circumstances I’d agree with Alan, Sir. By normal I mean, if we were dealing with a smaller time criminal rather than Lee. On this occasion I’d bet that Lee won’t spill the beans, because it’s in his own interest to remain quiet. He’ll know as well as we do, that if the Foundation is investigated then the money will disappear into the system. Probably into Government coffers, and if that happens it’s lost to him forever. If he stays quiet about it, he can hope it is still within reach and he can try for it again at a later date. I think that even criminals rely to a certain extent on hope.”

  Ben looked Alan in the eye and followed up Rodney’s statement.

  “Lee will also keep quiet because he’ll believe he’s the only one who knows where it is. I think he’ll want it to stay that way for fear of someone else stealing it away before he can get to it himself.”

  He watched as Alan slowly nodded his head and was delighted in the sight of the young detective learning another facet of his trade.

  “There are books available on Criminal Psychology,” he added for Alan’s ears before he got back to the business at hand.

  “Rodney, I want you wire Cooper’s office and her flat for audio and visual. Get the technicians to install something that either she or Booth can safely activate when it’s needed. Ask them about that new one they have which automatically dials a mobile phone the moment the tapes are turned on. When they’re finished setting it up, see to it that I get one of the mobile phones please.”

  Technology had come a long way since the old days when officers sat around waiting for the tapes to roll. These days the tape recording system would automatically dial the operating officer via the mobile network the moment the tape was turned on, by either Cooper or Booth.

  The operating officer, when alerted by the mobile phone call could then listen in on the conversation while it was being recorded. It played an important part in allowing him to keep pace with the situation while he was travelling to where the taping system was placed.

  It saved on man hours, and cut out the tedious boring hours of waiting for the target to arrive, if of course he arrived at all.

  In this case Ben would answer the phone and do the listening. If things got out of hand for the two women, he could have back up people on the spot in minutes.

  “Now Lee is bound to mention to Cooper about where the Foundation’s money came from. I want the tapes hot of the press, delivered to me personally, by either one of you. Don’t let anyone else hear them. You might explain to both Cooper and Booth that they should communicate with one of us three only, and for the time being I think we’d be well advised to restrict the loop to just we three.”

  Ben looked at Anderson, and then to Rodgers.

  “Any questions?”

  When neither of the two spoke, and each nodded their heads he moved on to the next issue.

  “Alan, what did you find out about that box in Grey Street? Alan had his note book open and he began to deliver his report, at times reading from his notes an outline of his previous day’s activities.

  “Sir, I checked out the carrier and he gave me the address that he delivered the transformer to. It was a building site in Liverpool. I asked him why he didn’t deliver it to the delivery address on the consignment note. He said that as far as he knew, instructions had been given by phone to the carrier company asking if the crate could be delivered to the Liverpool address instead.”

  “The driver told me that when he arrived at the Liverpool address, there was a truck carrying its own fork lift. They transferred the crate to that truck on the street outside the building site. The driver also said he thought the people with the second truck had no connection with the building site, because he was still there when they drove off in a westerly direction.” Alan stopped a moment and looked up in silent apology as he was suddenly faced with a blank page in his notebook. He quickly turned the page and continued.

  “I checked with the carrier’s office, and it was signed for, by the side of the road, by someone going under the name of Turner. The name on the side of the second truck, as far as the driver could recall, was the same name as on the con note. That being Sudovich Holdings.”

  “My request to customs and the State Police for alarm bells to be placed on anything connected to Sudovich Holdings, Walters or 16 Grey Street is in process. If there’s as much as a parking ticket, then we’ll know about it.”

  Ben was thoughtful for the moment after Rodgers report. He’d listened without interrupting while the young detective had delivered it before he made an observation.

  “It would appear our suspicions about the crate may be correct. The fact that the crate has gone the long way around certainly suggests we may be on to something. Now we have some idea as to what we might look out for in the future.” His voice trailed off as a thought from another angle struck him. Both Anderson and Rodgers watched their boss as he suddenly appeared to reflect deeply, his teeth clenched and his fingers pulled at his chin as if there was an invisible beard beneath it.

  He finally spoke the thought out loud.

  “I’ve been looking at this box thing as maybe an import device for smuggling drugs, or that was the first thing that I thought of when I learned it was connected to Sudovich.”

  “What else could it be, Boss?” Anderson asked, “Unless of course it’s weapons, there’s a strong market out there for hand guns.”

  Ben looked to the younger of the two.

  “What springs to mind for you Alan?”

  “Well, Sir. It could be a terrorist link. It sounds unlikely, but times are changing.”

  “I agree on all three possibilities Alan. I’ve just had to remind myself that this is the twenty first century and the criminal climate has changed. Is this crate any different than an unattended backpack or suitcase at a transport terminal? That’s the problem with terrorism, you never know, and even the least hint of suspicion must be evaluated.”

  Ben paused and sipped at his now cool tea before issuing an instruction.

  “Alan, I want you to write your report on the box right now. Everything we know so far and have it to me within the hour. I have a meeting scheduled with the Commissioner at nine thirty, and Commander Rusty Bates of the new Terrorism Task Force will be there. I think they should be brought into the picture. I’ll pass it on to his Task Force people just to be on the safe side. If it comes to nothing then I’ll just have a little egg on my face, but I’d rather that than the possibility of living with regret in the future. If they come up with something that lends to Lee’s involvement, even if it’s only that the crate is on his land, then he’ll hit the ground harder under the new terrorism laws than he will for his attempted extortion on Cooper’s Foundation.”

  He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands together unconsciously, as Scrooge might do, when he envisaged a new financial plan.

  Ben was quiet for some seconds before he said, almost to himself,

  “It would seem that we may well have two ways to crack Lee’s golden egg. With a little bit of luck, either way will be suitable.”

  Rodgers and Anderson both stood to leave Ben’s office. Anderson holding the door as Rodgers walked through the doorway before Ben caused the two of them to turn when he offered a final word.

  “By the way, I asked Cooper what she knew of West’s reasons for stealing the thirty million. She told me she asked him the same question during the last conversation she had with him. It seems that his answer to her was that, he thought that it was the right thing to do.”

  “One other thing,” Ben said before the two men left the area, “What did the Bourke Police say about the swimming pool?”

  “Oh! They confirmed its existence, Sir.”

  Ben noted the inquisitive look upon Rodney’s face and felt it deserved some form of explana
tion.

  “Just adding backbone to my informants’ credibility Rodney, that’s all.”

  CHAPTER 12