Red Mist

by Angus McLean

  A name jumped out at him.

  Hoani Trevellick.

  Ace scanned through the details of the incident, his stomach dropping as he read.

  Wounding, Middlemore Hospital.

  Male dropped off at Middlemore Emergency Dept approx. 2300hrs by unknown persons. ID’d as Hoani Trevellick, 18yrs, of Otahuhu. He refused to give any details of how he came to be injured. Injuries at this stage are broken ribs, heavy bruising, large contusion to the head, and possibly internal damage. Currently in ICU, Status 2. Early shift to follow up.

  Status 2 meant his injuries were serious but not considered life threatening at this stage. The Intensive Care Unit at Middlemore was the best in the country, and Ace knew he was in good hands up there.

  He checked for an update from night shift, knowing they would be following up with the hospital for any news. There was an entry in the occurrences list stating exactly that, but with no change to the status quo.

  If Hoani was refusing to co-operate the incident would effectively die a natural death. The question Ace had, was why? Why not say what happened? The lack of co-operation was not uncommon, usually from domestic violence victims or criminals who had no interest in talking to the Police, even when they had come off second best.

  But Hoani? He was just a kid from a bad neighbourhood. He had no reason not to co-operate, unless he was covering for someone.

  Ace grabbed the phone and started to dial an extension number at Crime Squad. He paused for a second, realising that his interest in the matter could be questioned and, cops being cops, a logical jump being that Hoani was an informer.

  He took a few seconds to get his story straight, and redialled. The phone was answered by some young guy who sounded rushed and important.

  Ace identified himself and asked if the guy knew anything about the bashing of the young fella at Middlemore. He deliberately didn’t use Hoani’s name, to avoid any sense of familiarity.

  ‘Not much,’ the other cop said curtly, and went silent.

  ‘So there’s no update on it?’ Ace pressed.

  ‘No.’

  More silence.

  ‘Sorry mate,’ Ace said, ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t give it,’ the guy replied. ‘It’s Dale.’

  ‘Dale who?’

  There was a pause, and Ace wondered if he was supposed to know who Dale was. He could almost hear the guy rolling his eyes.

  ‘Dale Turner.’

  Ace remembered the guys recounting their encounter with him last week at the robbery, and the attitude fell into place.

  ‘Right,’ he said, ‘so is the file coming to us today or are you guys hanging on to it?’

  ‘I’m on night shift, so I won’t be working on it, no. I can’t speak for early shift.’

  Ace suppressed a growl.

  ‘True,’ he said, ‘but they’ll be there now, so you could ask them.’

  ‘Why the big interest?’ Dale wanted to know. ‘I don’t know if you know how Crime Squad works, but...’

  Ace cut him off abruptly.

  ‘Yeah mate, I know how Crime Squad works. I’ve done my time, so cut the attitude and just tell me if we’re getting the file today or not. And the reason for the big interest, as you put it, is that it’s from our patch and I want to know what work we’ve got coming in.’

  He paused but Dale didn’t reply. Probably too busy rolling his eyes. Or maybe checking his hair.

  ‘So let’s start that again. Are you guys working on it today or shifting it on to us straight away?’

  ‘Um, if you hang on a second, I’ll just check with the boss.’

  Ace heard background noise as Dale moved the receiver away from his ear and called out to someone.

  ‘Hey Paul, are you guys passing that Wounding from Middlemore on to Otahu or are you gunna keep it today? Some guy called Aids from Otahu wants to know.’

  Ace felt his blood pressure take a jump. He heard Dale sniggering in the background. A second later the kid came back on the line.

  ‘He said it’ll be delivered to you guys today, unless you want to come and pick it up.’

  Ace was silent, fighting to control his anger. It was too early in the morning to be raging, but he was battling.

  ‘You still there, buddy?’

  When Ace spoke his tone was low and cold.

  ‘I heard. Tell Paul I’ll come and get it. And young fulla...’ Ace’s voice was full of venom now. ‘You crossed my colleagues the other day with your attitude. You just crossed me too. There better not be a third time, understand?’

  ‘Whatev...’

  ‘Oi, sunshine,’ Ace cut in, ‘don’t talk, just listen. Your card is marked. You better be gone by the time I get there, or we’ll be having words.’

  He heard a sharp intake of breath down the line.

  ‘Seriously, are you...’

  ‘No, I’m telling you. Take it on board and grow up.’

  He hung up, fuming with the kid and angry at himself for the way he’d handled it. Didn’t mean he hadn’t meant it. He knew there’d be repercussions, but the hell with that.

  He had more important things to worry about than the sensibilities of some jumped up fool.

  By the time he got to the hospital it was nearly seven. He went to the designated Police car parks outside the Emergency Department, finding a marked patrol car in one and a lowered white Skyline with mags in the other.

  Ace parked across the back of the Skyline and blocked it in. He didn’t know whether he could get the car towed or not, and didn’t have time for that anyway. He crossed the car park to the main entrance and made his way through the corridors and up in the lift to ICU on the fifth floor. He was buzzed through the swing doors to the ward when he ID’d himself over the intercom. He made his way to the Nurse’s Station down the corridor.

  It was never a good time to visit Middlemore, but the staff usually made time for the cops. This time though, he was met with a brick wall in the form of a skinny Maori nurse with more salt than pepper in her frizz and more fire in her belly than White Island.

  ‘No way,’ she said, giving a firm shake of the head. ‘Not a chance, officer.’

  ‘Just a couple of minutes,’ Ace tried. ‘I understand the rules, but...’

  ‘No buts.’ Another head shake and a look his mother would’ve been proud of. ‘If you know the rules then I don’t need to explain them, do I? And you will understand why I say no, won’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, but...’

  She arched her painted-on eyebrows at him.

  ‘What did I just say to you about buts?’

  Ace shut his mouth. Her face softened ever so slightly. Like maybe a snowflake melting in a blizzard.

  ‘Look, I appreciate your need to talk to the young man, I do. But he has said no to any visitors, especially the Police, and we have to respect that. My priority is his care.’

  Ace nodded, knowing she was right.

  ‘Look, give me your card, and I’ll see if he wants to reconsider once the doctor’s done his rounds. If he does I’ll call you. Deal?’

  ‘Deal.’ Ace removed a card from his badge wallet and gave it to her, checking her name badge as he did so. ‘Thanks, Gloria.’

  She peered at the card, then looked up at him. ‘Ace? Seriously? Your mother a comedian?’

  Ace left her to her wit, but was still smiling when he got outside. It was nice to meet a fellow professional with a sense of both humour and duty.

  As he crossed the car park he saw the white Skyline manoeuvring out of the Police slot. Unable to reverse, the driver was trying to get out forwards. That meant bumping up and over a chunky wheel block designed to stop cars from hitting the kerb, then over a narrow strip of bark garden before crossing the footpath.

  Ace guessed it could be done, but certainly not in a lowered Skyline.

  The car’s engine was revving as the driver tried his best to get out. Unfortunately his lack of foresight in parking in the wrong place was compounded
by his lack of planning on how to escape. The front wheels had got over the block but the car had then bellied on it, the chassis lowered so far that the muffler barely cleared the tarmac.

  The driver was a fat tattooed gangster with a bandanna around his head. He saw Ace coming towards him, and saw Ace grinning. He scowled and revved the engine again. The car rocked but made no progress.

  The guy swore as Ace laughed at him.

  ‘Nice driving, buddy,’ Ace chuckled, bleeping the locks on the Commodore.

  The guy swore at him again, and Ace laughed again.

  ‘Think you’re smart, ow?’ the guy snarled.

  Ace chuckled as he opened the door. ‘Smart enough to be driving outta here. Guess I’m the only one.’

  He got in and fired it up. The guy revved the Skyline some more, still to no avail. Ace wondered for a moment if the guy would try and ram him, or get out and have a crack. Unlikely, he decided. Most gangsters were all mouth and no action unless they were in a group. He saw a couple of security guards heading across from the ED. He left them to deal with the idiot and drove off.

  He had a case to work on.

  ***

  Dale Turner had heeded the warning and disappeared by the time Ace reached the Hub.

  He walked into the empty Crime Squad office and found the file, as scant as it was, in the Deliveries tray by the DS’s pod. He grabbed it and turned to see the early shift supervisor, Paul, approaching him with a cup of tea in his hand. He was an older DS, and Ace had crossed paths with him a number of times. He was a good operator and a straight shooter.

  ‘Gee,’ he said without preamble, ‘you made a new friend this morning.’

  Ace shrugged. ‘I hope you had some tissues handy.’

  Paul sat and gave him a grin. ‘He’ll get over it. I heard Mr Crowley gave him a serve the other day too.’

  ‘Apparently so.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Paul took a careful sip of his tea. The mug had a large yellow smiley face on the side. ‘Just watch him,’ he said gently, ‘he’s not scared about moving things up the chain, if you know what I mean.’

  Ace pulled a face, wanting to downplay it and move on. He had things to do.

  ‘I told him to take it on the chin,’ Paul continued, ‘but whether he will or not is another thing.’

  ‘Sweet, thanks mate.’ Ace hefted the file and smiled. ‘I’ll go and crack on with this.’

  ‘Go easy,’ Paul called to his back, ‘try and play nicely.’

  There was more chance of a peace settlement in the Middle East, as Ace took the back stairs and found Tug and Romana ascending towards him, coffee cups in their hands.

  ‘Well, well,’ Romana sneered.

  Tug said nothing, but gave a smirk. Ace eyed them both, the bashing file tight in his hand.

  ‘Don’t suppose you two know anything about a kid in ICU, do ya?’

  Their faces belied the truth. Tug gave a nonchalant shrug as he reached the half-way landing up where Ace stood.

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about mate,’ he said.

  ‘You guys tapped him, didn’t you? Went behind my back to get my source.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘And now he’s in ICU with internal injuries.’

  ‘Not our problem, pal,’ Tug replied dismissively. ‘You don’t own the source, he’s a departmental asset. Yeah we approached him, but he had nothing so we left it at that. If you wanna keep running him that’s up to you.’ His piggy little eyes ran over Ace’s face. ‘I thought you were supposed to be some sorta hotshot informant handler, but he’s crap. Knows nothing about anything.’

  Ace shook his head and turned to go. There was obviously no point wasting his breath on these two clowns. Something was tugging at his brain though and he stopped, turning back to them.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘you said you approached him, not contacted him.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Romana looked at him. The slightest hint of guilt crept into his face.

  ‘You went to him, face to face,’ Ace stated.

  ‘Look...’

  ‘Where’d you front him up?’

  Romana glanced at Tug before replying. ‘At home.’

  ‘Where?’ Ace insisted. His head was pounding. He knew the answer, and they knew he knew.

  ‘Look it doesn’t matter where we spoke to him,’ Tug interrupted, ‘the point is...’

  ‘The point is you went to see him at his cousin’s place, didn’t you? Trey’s place in Mayflower.’

  Neither of them replied, but there was no way he was letting it lie there.

  ‘And Trey was home, wasn’t he.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘So he knew immediately that my guy was a source, because you two idiots weren’t smart enough to cover your tracks.’

  Tug opened his mouth to protest but was drowned out by Ace.

  ‘And he told his mates, and my guy is now in intensive care, probably lucky to be alive.’ He was seething now, his anger at them and their stupidity threatening to boil over any second. ‘Good one fellas, I hope you’re proud.’

  ‘Hey pal,’ Romana snapped back, ‘he chooses to live the life. He takes the consequences of that life too.’

  Ace’s fists balled tightly and he took a step forward, ready to beat the living daylights out of the other detective and ram the file down his throat.

  Paul appeared at the head of the stairs, Dee at his side. It was obvious they had both heard the commotion.

  ‘Everything cool here, fellas?’ Paul enquired easily.

  Tug glanced up the stairs at him. ‘All good,’ he said. ‘Young Ace here is just moving along.’

  Maybe he felt emboldened by the presence of witnesses, but he nearly wore a hook from Ace, who was stepping forward again before Paul’s voice cracked like a whip.

  ‘Enough!’ he barked. ‘You guys walk away and get on with it.’

  Tug looked like he was going to argue the toss, being the same rank as Paul. He may have been the same rank, but he definitely didn’t have the same pull and he knew it. He relented, gave Romana a toss of the chin to follow suit, and headed up the stairs.

  Romana gave Ace a last glare before following his boss. Once they had reached the top, Tug stopped and started to say something to Paul. He was cut off with a sharp ‘No’ and moved on.

  Paul turned back to Ace, who stood waiting for his own rebuke. Dee remained silent, watching with wide eyes.

  ‘I know what happened,’ Paul said calmly. ‘Leave it with me, and keep your hands in your pockets.’

  Ace nodded his thanks.

  ‘That’s two today, Ace,’ Paul told him. ‘Don’t let there be a third, eh?’

  Ace nodded again and glanced at Dee. Her eyes were like saucers. He turned away and headed down. He figured he’d outstayed his welcome at the Hub today.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The arms on the clock seemed to be stuck in reverse.

  Molly swore it should have been morning tea time already, but the sadistic dial on the wall was certain it was only nine. It even seemed to be smiling as it broadcast its message of misery across the office, its arms gently meandering their way around the circle like a geriatric driver at a roundabout.

  She scowled and put her head back down, ignoring the unspoken taunts. It was, however, harder to ignore the latest soundtrack from her colleague.

  Ailsa had moved on today from soppy love ballads to the greatest Christmas hits-in Afrikaans, accompanied by an organ and an oompah band. She clearly thought it was great. Molly wasn’t convinced.

  ‘Isn’t it a bit early for Christmas carols?’ she tried, doing her best not to sound like she was plotting murder.

  ‘Pfff,’ Ailsa scoffed, ‘Christmas is less than a month away, my friend. It’s time to get with the programme.’

  Molly’s eyebrows shot up to her fringe. She opened her mouth to reply but caught herself at the last second. Best to bide her time.

  Molly’s Nana had always said that the only thing you ever got from diving straight in was a broken neck. Nana had ne
ver broken her neck. Come to think of it, she didn’t even like swimming. But, being a farmer’s wife, she had a practical solution for every occasion.

  She rolled her neck, feeling and hearing a decent crack in her joints. God, it was only Monday morning and already she felt as tight as a drum. She turned back to her work, hoping the lengthy To-Do list would keep her mind off the problem that was continually poking it, nagging like a world-weary wife with a useless husband.

  She gave it a solid hour, responding to emails and processing orders until the clock finally ticked over to ten o’clock and Ailsa heaved herself to her feet. Moving with more enthusiasm than she ever showed for her work, she grabbed her coffee mug, smokes and lighter.

  She glanced pointedly at her watch and sighed.

  ‘Better take a quick five,’ she said, as if it was ever just five minutes and as if she was ever going to miss it.

  Molly gave an “Uh-huh” and continued typing the email she was working on. Ailsa disappeared out the door and Molly immediately opened up her internet browser window. The home page of one of the major banks faced her.

  Identifying the bank used by the ghost employee had been easy. The first two digits in the account number denoted the bank itself, while the second set of four digits identified the branch which held the account. A basic internet search had given her both, although she didn’t need the branch details.

  She punched in the call centre number on hands free and waited while she continued with her work and keep an ear open for the sound of Ailsa’s return.

  She wondered how long it would take for the call to be answered. She wondered if Dan had remembered to get the chicken out for dinner. She wondered if what she was about to do was against the law.

  It took nine minutes of mindless muzak, invitations to obtain a credit card and reminders that they were sorry for the wait and really cared about the inconvenience before an actual human being came on the line.

  Molly grabbed the receiver up and clamped it to her ear. She didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing this conversation. She had the ghost employee’s details handy, and gave them to the suspiciously American-sounding call taker. She was tempted to ask how things were in Manila today, but held her tongue. No point being silly about these things. As her Nana would have said, nobody likes a smart-arse but the smart-arse themselves.