The Consequences of Finding Daniel Morgan

by Peter J Robinson

  “Okay,” she grinned, handing back the weapon, “you’ve got a big one, but you still have to show me what you can do with it.”

  A short time later they all three pushed back their chairs and headed for the exit, Royle’s partner still muttering about the dress she was wearing.

  Back at the office Whitland and Charlie exited the Chevy beside the main entrance, leaving Royle to return the vehicle to the basement parking area. He then checked in with Paula, who had already attended to Whitland and was seated in front of her computer.

  “Doug says it was an interesting trip,” the secretary observed, apparently inviting comment.

  “We didn’t get far with finding Dan, but we got a few other things done,” he responded, ignoring her invitation.

  “I heard.”

  He studied Paula from behind her computer screen. “If you’re referring to the little problem Charlie had then it’s not worth discussing.”

  “Word is, you two are quite good friends now, which you must admit is a change from a couple of days ago.”

  “I wouldn’t read too much into that. We had to resolve the situation somehow and we seem to have done that.”

  “It’s the somehow bit that interests me.”

  “Don’t read anything into that either. We just had a long talk.”

  “Doug says you weren’t only talking.” But then Paula changed tack, “What happens now?”

  “Well, for starters I need a desk I can call my own. Seems sensible I take over Dan’s workspace until he’s back.”

  “Are you sure he’ll be back?” the secretary wondered, ceasing typing and pushing her glasses up onto her forehead.

  “I’d be lying if I said yes, though it’s a big leap thinking otherwise.”

  “The person dealing with phone tracking is upstairs; I’ve scribbled his number for you. Have I forgotten anything?”

  “Anything from Steve McGill?”

  “Nothing yet. I’ll leave you to find Charlie; our boss seems to have spent most of his time away thinking of urgent things I should do.”

  Royle tucked the Dan Morgan folder under one arm, pouring two coffees at the corridor drinks dispenser, before entering his old office. Charlie was seated at her desk, his old desk in fact. He was surprised to see two other people had moved in since he had last worked there, otherwise things seemed much as he remembered.

  “Paula agreed I use Dan’s workspace,” he explained, pulling out Dan’s chair and sitting down opposite her. “The desk you have used to be mine, though I prefer the view from this one.”

  He cast an eye over Dan’s desk and its surrounds, noticing the half-used cigarette packet. He held it up. “He’s still not kicked the habit, then?”

  “Keeps threatening to.”

  Leaning back and sipping his drink, Royle reflected on how little there was to go on in their joint search for their missing colleague.

  * * *

  Charlie watched him sitting there, his eyes busily exploring Dan’s workspace. There seemed no denying she had changed her opinion of him. Even if their working relationship progressed no further, this was still preferable to Morgan. She was also beginning to realise her earlier impressions of him may have been mistaken. In fact, much of what she had seen and heard since Monday morning’s initial meeting in Whitland’s office had proved her wrong.

  She was surprised, too, at how easily she accepted him sitting opposite her, almost as if he belonged in the chair.

  “You and Dan obviously worked together a long time, but how close are you really?”

  “You can’t call us close, not by any stretch of the imagination. He gets upset too easily, likes to throw his toys out of the pram, as you probably discovered.”

  Charlie shook her head. “Things may have moved on some. In my opinion he’s losing it, goes into black moods and won’t talk to anyone for days.”

  “Hasn’t he told you anything of what he’s working on?”

  “Doesn’t talk much at all and he certainly never mentions his private life.” She considered adding that this seemed to be a common fault amongst the men in this office, but then thought better of it.

  * * *

  Royle dialled the upstairs number Paula had given him, and from somewhere on the fourth floor a male voice responded.

  “Communications. Daren speaking.”

  “We were wondering if you’ve had any success yet with locating our missing man’s cell phone?”

  Daren sounded deeply apologetic. “I’m afraid not, but I promise we’re working on it.”

  Royle made a note on his pad before turning to Charlie. “They’re still working on tracking Dan’s phone,” he explained, before lowering his voice and inclining his head in the direction of the office’s two other occupants. “Who are these people?”

  “There’s a shortage of space in Licensing; they’re the overflow.”

  He was obviously unhappy. “It’s not good practice mixing enforcement staff with others. We should be careful what we discuss and make sure we remove or lock up all documents.”

  That little mystery solved, Royle suggested they firm up on their priorities in the search for Dan. “Say if you disagree, but I think we should concentrate on finding what he’s working on. Knowing that might help us find where he is.”

  “Sounds logical. Perhaps we should list what we know already.”

  Just one of several challenges currently facing Royle was that whilst Charlie was as far as he knew reliable, he needed to keep in mind what Whitland had said about her inexperience. One of his priorities, therefore, was to establish exactly what she was capable of. And under what conditions. And he now saw an opportunity to start obtaining answers.

  “What do we know, then?”

  She considered his question. “Thinking about it, perhaps we should start by listing what we don’t know.”

  “Which is?”

  “Well, at the risk of stating the obvious, we don’t know where he is or what he’s driving. His department vehicle’s parked in the basement covered in our Crime Lab’s ‘Do Not Touch’ stickers. Neither do we know what he’s working on, except that it might involve wildlife smuggling. Plus, we don’t have his diary, notebook or computer.”

  Royle was nodding his agreement. “He probably has the last three with him. I’m still unclear when he was last seen, though; he could have been missing for more than two weeks now.”

  Charlie seemed to agree. “Our most obvious need is his phone, which we’re working on tracing.”

  “We should check there’s nothing in his apartment that we’re still looking for,” Royle concluded. “I’d also appreciate it if you could backtrack details of his personal vehicle, through the system, and come up with a description and registration number. I can’t believe we don’t know that… Oh, and don’t forget that Akroyd character over in LA.”

  Later that same afternoon they went to have a look inside Dan’s apartment, the same one Whitland had authorised emergency entry to the previous week. Although the inside did not seem unduly disturbed, in Royle’s opinion someone had carried out a detailed search prior to Whitland’s break-in.

  “I understand how you know the apartment’s been searched, but how can you tell when?”

  “Easy. They can’t have had a key to Whitland’s new lock, so it had to be before then.”

  “Any idea who might want to get in here, or what they were after?”

  “Who knows. But it may be useful at least knowing someone thought Dan’s place important enough to search it.”

  “Where would they get a key?”

  “That is a very good question.”

  “Does Dan keep any case files here?” Charlie wondered.

  “I doubt it, he’s never been big on taking work home. But you never know with Dan, he’s pretty unpredictable.”

  Fift
een minutes later they were outside Sharon Morgan’s new address, a flashy third-floor apartment on an exclusive gated development in the Deerfield Beach area, north of the city out towards the coast. They took the elevator and Sharon opened the apartment door; for a second he hardly recognised her. She appeared years younger than he remembered, so obviously something was doing her good.

  She led them through into the living area, which by most people’s standards was large, Royle noting that her lifestyle had clearly turned a corner since she used to spend time complaining about how difficult it was surviving on Dan’s government salary. Dominating the room was a huge polished hardwood table and chairs, plus leather sofa and twin reclining chairs. Of note too were the various supporting features, including a pair of silver candelabra, a well-stocked wine rack and a six-foot wall-mounted television screen.

  Sharon was the first to raise the matter of her missing husband. “What’s Dan been up to that’s got him into trouble this time?”

  To Royle this was bad news. “You really have no idea what he’s been investigating?”

  “None whatsoever. I only see him now when he’s feeling down and needs to offload.”

  Royle had known Sharon for years; he could not put his finger on it but something was not quite right with the way she was responding. “Are you sure there’s nothing else going on in Dan’s life?”

  The woman looked troubled. “The Dan I last saw, four or so weeks ago, was not the man you knew. Kept banging on about how unfair it is the bad guys getting all the rewards, while the good guys just go to work every day.”

  “Same thought’s crossed my mind often enough.”

  “But you only say it for a laugh,” Sharon responded. “You don’t mean it.”

  Charlie too had an interest in where this conversation might be heading. “What are you saying, Sharon? It’s important we know exactly what we’re dealing with here.”

  The woman hesitated. “If I knew more then I’d say. All I know is he’s not in a fit state to be making important decisions.”

  The pair exchanged glances. There was no need saying anything; if Sharon was right then Dan was in no state to be performing his role as a federal agent. It might also go some way towards explaining why they were now having to search for him.

  “Is he seeing anyone new?”

  Sharon screwed up her face at his question. “My guess is women are the last thing on his mind.”

  As a long-time friend of both parties Royle was about to respond with something suitably neutral, when his mobile rang. He stepped out into the hallway, leaving his partner to come up with a response.

  It was Paula. “Guys upstairs think they know where Dan is, or where his phone is. You might want to talk with them?”

  Slipping back into the lounge he apologised to Sharon and informed Charlie they were needed back at the office. Then, literally as they were leaving, he turned to Sharon again.

  “Rude of me not to ask about your new partner. I’m guessing he’s at work?”

  “His name’s Greg Saunders and he works for United. He would have liked to have met you.”

  “He’s aircrew?”

  “Works in the ticketing department. He’s on days now, though sometimes he works through the night.”

  Back in the car Royle briefly explained Paula’s call, though Charlie could see he was frowning.

  “We’ve just had good news so what’s bugging you?”

  He screwed up his face. “One possible explanation for the mystery airport photographer is that information on my movements came from the airline. Then lo and behold Sharon’s new man works in United’s ticketing office. You must admit it’s a coincidence.”

  He got the impression Charlie still needed convincing.

  “On top of which she’s not telling us the whole story,” he continued. “There’s more to this than she’s saying.”

  The drive back to the office took ten minutes, Royle making several calls on his mobile which as usual was in speaker mode. He also received a call.

  “Phil. Todd Shepherd. You good to talk, mate?”

  Briefly glancing across at Charlie, Royle declined Shepherd’s request on the grounds that he was driving and was due back in the office on urgent business.

  “I’ll get back to you, Todd. Good to hear from you, though.”

  Back at the office, Communications Head Daren was feeling pleased with himself. Dan’s phone was now known to have been static at a location a couple of weeks or so ago but had not been traceable since.

  “Where are we talking about?” Charlie queried, and their attention was drawn to a pin in a wall map, way up in the north of Florida.

  “It’s one of those yuppie hunting ranches,” Daren explained in a voice suggesting he disapproved. “Sad people pay serious money to shoot some poor unsuspecting creature imported from Africa or somewhere. But it can still be dangerous so there are bound to be permits involved. State Wildlife should know more.”

  Royle looked from his watch to Charlie. “How about you give your Tallahassee contacts a call, see who owns this place. And more importantly, what the access is.”

  Five

  Royle listened to Charlie taking a return call from her State Wildlife contact over coffee and a roll in their motel next morning. They had checked out and were loading their bags by the time a big green State Wildlife truck pulled into the parking lot.

  Ed Kimberley seemed a likeable guy and was probably not far off the end of his time with the state. It seemed the ranch was owned by an outfit going by the name of Big Experience USA, with addresses elsewhere, including California. Kimberley confirmed it was a dangerous place to go wandering around in, for the simple reason that there were all manner of large animals living under what passed for natural conditions. He enquired as to whereabouts they thought Dan’s phone might be and Charlie indicated an area on his official site map. All three took note of the word ‘CATS’, printed large and in red over what looked like an extensive paddock area.

  Royle was getting a bad feeling. He had worked with a range of wild creatures, none of which troubled him unduly, though there were exceptions. He always had confidence issues around snakes, and had learned the hard way to distrust large cats. He had worked in areas where lions habitually removed locals from their huts after dark, and he knew how much that focused the mind.

  “Does that mean big cats?”

  “Sure does,” Kimberley responded.

  “Lions or tigers?”

  “Both.”

  “They get shut away at night?”

  “Nope. Going in any time is like doing it for real; enter there and you put your life at risk.”

  Royle suggested Kimberley might be exaggerating and the man seemed genuinely hurt.

  “What if I told you the tigers were removed from the wild because they’re man-eaters?” Then he took a deep breath. “What on earth was your man doing going into somewhere like that?”

  “All we know is that Dan’s phone was in there at some point. We’re just assuming he may have been with it.”

  The hunting ranch turned out to be larger than anticipated. It took several minutes’ driving from the entrance gate to the headquarters buildings, through open grassland grazed by small herds of antelope, zebra and African buffalo.

  It took the three officers a while convincing ranch staff they were serious about someone possibly being lost in their lion or tiger paddocks. Added to which the staff seemed unhappy with any suggestions that the three accompany them on a search, only eventually giving way to the considerable pressure of a federal demand.

  There was a brief discussion on the need for weaponry, purely as a precaution, staff explained.

  Royle promptly held up the Winchester and in response Ed Kimberley extracted his state-issue rifle, checking to see it was loaded.

  Royle then surprised his partne
r by handing her his fancy shotgun, the same one she had handled back out at the ranch.

  “It won’t kill a big cat, but it should slow it down while either Ed or I get a shot at him. Probably best you stay close though.”

  Following which they all piled into the back of a pickup and headed for the big cat compounds.

  There were two high wire-fenced enclosures, both extensive and well vegetated, reportedly holding five African lions and four Indian tigers respectively. Although no one said as much it seemed generally accepted that they were probably searching for a body. Cautiously working their way first through the tiger pen, it was Ed Kimberley who came across the partly covered remains. Attracted by the flies and the unmistakeable smell of death, enough of the body remained to make clear it was human.

  Obviously, they had found the missing Daniel Morgan, all the signs pointing to a tragic accident, which would not have occurred had Dan remained outside the enclosure – in which case, for all they knew, the compound’s rightful occupants were at this very moment considering reducing them all to the same messy condition. Royle also recalled what Ed Kimberley had said about these creatures being addicted man-eaters.

  “I’m going to take some quick photographs then we’ll see what Dan has on him,” Royle explained to his partner.

  The pickup had been called forward and one of the ranch staff produced a shovel before setting about recovering the body. Carefully, Royle went through each item of torn clothing as it was revealed, some of it no longer attached to Dan’s remains. He also noticed that the number of people prepared to help recover the body had shrunk – to just himself and the man with the shovel. He decided that that suited his immediate needs. Someone next produced a large plastic sheet, which they spread on the ground before laying the various body parts onto it. The driver, meanwhile, had positioned himself on the vehicle, rifle at the ready lest any of the inmates decided to take advantage of the situation.