Smoking Gun (Adam Cartwright Trilogy Book 1)

by Dennis Debney

  “Okay. Last question. Do either of the unnamed men have any connection to the Mount Godwin Gold Mine?”

  Hargreaves exploded in anger. “Enough of this badgering us for information regarding police investigations. I’ve already pandered to you more than I should. I’m not going to answer any more of your questions.”

  His non-answer was not as revealing as his outburst of anger and the glint of something that might have been fear in his eyes. The reference to the Mount Godwin Gold Mine had clearly struck a nerve and I did not want to provoke him any further. My one wish at that point was to calm things down and leave so I asked in a conciliatory tone of voice. “Sorry, I overstepped the mark. But I do have a final question. Do you wish me to wait while you have the statement here re-typed so that I can sign it?”

  Hargreaves shook his head. “No.” For a moment he had looked like he was going to continue speaking but remained silent.

  I picked up my briefcase and stood on my feet. “So, I’m free to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Well you know where to reach me if you need me.”

  Neither of them spoke as I left the interview room.

  ***

  I checked my watch as I exited the police station, it was later than I had hoped. I had missed the Noon flight back to Cairns and would now have to wait for the next flight which departed at four o’clock. Flagging down a passing taxi I returned to the Casino Hotel to pick up my overnight bag before being driven to the Townsville Airport. I’d have three hours to wait for the flight, but the Qantas passenger lounge was comfortable and provided refreshments and somewhere to make phone calls.

  It was just after two o’clock when I rang Toni Swan. I had timed my call to catch her as soon as she returned from her lunch break.

  Earlier in the morning, before I had met Phil O’Brien for breakfast, I had sent an email to Toni Swan. In it I had described the previous night’s events and told her of the upcoming meeting with Detective Inspector Hargreaves at the Townsville Police Station. I had also attached the photographs that I had taken of the two men and their Drivers Licences.

  No sooner had we started talking than she asked if I could hang up and call her on Skype in another fifteen minutes. She wanted to include her assistants in a video conference and to be able to record what I had to say.

  Fifteen minutes later I was sitting with my back to a corner with my laptop computer in front of me. The combined earphones and microphone headset provided me with all the privacy that I needed particularly as there was no one sitting near me.

  Toni Swan was seated in a conference room with Peter Williams and Margaret Smith. All three greeted me in a friendly and respectful manner. Their demeanour was a welcome experience when compared with the antagonistic attitude of Detective Inspector Hargreaves and his team.

  It did not take long for me to summarise my meeting at the police station. I then played the sound file that I had transferred from my cell phone. During the meeting with Hargreaves and Strong my cell phone had been recording everything. Now, as I replayed it from my computer it was being recorded in Brisbane.

  Toni Swan audibly exhaled as the sound recording ended. The other two might have done so as well. It was the sound of satisfaction that something had been resolved. Perhaps something previously suspected had just been confirmed. I did not have to wait long to find out.

  Toni Swan looked at the camera and said, “Adam, we believe that you are in danger. We’d like to do more but we can at least keep you informed of what we know. But first, a question, why do you think that the two men attacked you last night?”

  “I have given that some thought. It was not planned. When they recognised me they were in doubt as to what they should do. I think that all they wanted to do was to leave without being identified. For a few moments they were undecided but the taller one, Harry Hawsall according to his drivers licence, eventually reckoned that their best chance of escape was to stop me from following them.”

  Toni Swan responded, “Yes, that’s what we think too. Well what we can tell you is that Harry Hawsall works as a security guard for the firm that is responsible for gold security at the Mount Godwin Gold Mine. He is a member of the security team contracted to the mine. He has a two weeks on, one week off roster and was off-duty at the time of the robbery. James Foster is an employee of the Mount Godwin Gold Mine. He also has a two weeks on, one week off work roster and was on-duty at the time of the robbery. Both have criminal convictions for grievous bodily harm.”

  I was puzzled and asked, “How on earth could someone with a criminal record get a job as a security guard?”

  Peter Williams replied enthusiastically before Toni Swan could respond, I think that he had been waiting impatiently for a chance to drop his bombshell. “Harry Hawsall had a recommendation from…would you believe, Detective Inspector John Hargreaves.”

  Toni Swan nodded. “That’s right, Adam. No one here has any doubts that D I Hargreaves is corrupt. The circumstantial evidence against him continues to mount. It seems to be almost overwhelming but I am told that we still don’t have enough to prosecute. We need to find a smoking gun.”

  I sat in silence for a few moments taking it all in. Then thinking out loud I said, “So we know that D I Hargreaves is connected somehow to the hit-and-run and is linked to the Mount Godwin Gold Mine via Harry Hawsall. Harry Hawsall is linked to the attempted drowning and to the Mount Godwin Gold Mine. And of course, James Foster is also linked to the attempted drowning. There are still more questions than answers. For example, why did Hargreaves recommend a known criminal for a job as a security officer. It seems logical that it is somehow linked to the subsequent robbery and murders, but you have no proof.”

  Toni Swan smiled wryly. “That’s about it. It is very tempting to simply join the dots, but that involves speculation which won’t stand up in Court.”

  I had a suggestion. “What about checking the DNA on the cigarette butts collected near the hit-and-run with DNA from Hawsall and Foster? That might definitely link them to the hit-and-run.”

  Toni Swan looked sideways at Margaret indicating that she should respond. Looking a little sheepish she said, “It is out of our hands. All the cigarette butts that you sent us were passed on to the police...”

  I finished her sentence for her. “And it’s unlikely that Hargreaves will co-operate. Well, the good news is that I sent you only half the items collected. The rest are safe and sound in two clearly marked Ziploc plastic bags.”

  The relief on Margaret’s face was clearly evident. “That is good news. Would you send them down to us as soon as you can?”

  “Sure. I’ll have them in the hands of a courier within a day or so.”

  Toni Swan responded, “Good. That will remove any chance of embarrassment about the Commission not retaining the potential vital evidence. We expect that the police still hold DNA samples from Messrs Hawsall and Foster. They would have been taken at the time of their convictions, but we can’t interfere in what appears to be a routine police matter unless we can get the approval of the Public Interest Monitor. It requires some bureaucratic processing of paperwork but it’s worth a try.”

  “How good a case can you put for getting access to the DNA records of Hawsall and Foster?”

  Toni Swan glanced at Peter Williams. “Well, Peter, I know that you have a view on this point. What is it?”

  He grinned and immediately replied, “Good. We have a very good chance of getting approval from the Public Interest Monitor. Adam’s testimony and evidence should be enough to swing it.”

  It sounded like all was not lost. Then a thought hit me and I exclaimed. “I’ve just remembered something else. In early January, three to four weeks ago I was talking to a guy, Roger Gray, who has a boat in the Cairns Marina in a pen near mine. He told me he had seen a couple of men checking out my boat from the jetty on two occasions. Once in early December and the other about two months earlier. Roger thought that they might have been police but not loca
ls.”

  Toni Swan jotted down some notes on a pad before asking, “You haven’t mentioned this earlier?”

  I shook my head. “No, I haven’t. I did not expect corrupt police officers to be possibly involved. Also I did not want to start any rumours circulating around the marina by showing too much interest at that time as there were several others there with us. I had intended to have a casual follow-up with Roger later but I haven’t had the opportunity so far. But now if he was shown photos of Hawsall and Foster he might recognise them. That would support my claim that they are the ones involved in the man overboard incident.”

  Toni Swan smiled and said, “However, if Roger Gray does not recognise Hawsall and Foster then he just might recognise D I Hargreaves and/or members of his team if he is shown their photographs. That is certainly something that we, the Commission that is, can do without having to get approval from the Public Interest Monitor. But even so it will take time to set up, several weeks at least. But it will happen.”

  I grinned and said a little facetiously. “Either way, it would advance the cause of the righteous and might lead to the triumph of good over evil.”

  They all laughed and Toni Swan responded, “That sounds a little biblical but I agree. But, Adam, there is one important point that I need to bring to your attention. You are in danger. Two attempts have been made on your life already. The reason that they failed is that your attackers tried to make your death look accidental. We at the Commission do not think that they will complicate matters like that again. There will be no subtlety next time round. You don’t qualify for witness protection even though it is clear that your attackers believe that you are in possession of information or evidence that endangers them. Perhaps they believe that you have possession of, or know the whereabouts of, the ‘smoking gun’ that will convict them of a major crime such as the Mount Godwin Gold Mine robbery and murders.”

  I responded thoughtfully. “I agree with all that you have said, But please do not repeat your earlier recommendation that I leave Queensland. I am determined to complete the Red Rock Project and there is no certainty that I will be safer anywhere else.”

  She nodded. “We accept what you say. But what about carrying a weapon?”

  “What would you suggest?”

  She replied, “The Commission can recommend that you be granted a licence to carry a concealed weapon, such as a handgun or something less lethal.”

  Her suggestion had taken me by surprise and I had stalled briefly by asking if she had a suggestion. My first instinct was to reject the idea due to time consuming hoops I would still have to go through with the Cairns police. Then there was the impracticality of carrying a concealed handgun in a climate where I rarely wore a jacket. The concept of a handgun being concealed beneath a shirt on a construction site did not seem to be realistic. On the other hand a concealed weapon like a stun gun did seem to be a little more practical.

  Brian had suggested last October that I acquire a stun gun as part of our Hardy Boys approach to security after the first attempt on my life. When he was sourcing the various CCTV items that I now have, he had recommended a stun gun that looked like a cell phone. I guess that it would be better described as a disguised, rather than a concealed, weapon.

  I had considered it at the time but eventually rejected the idea as its potential usefulness was not clear cut.

  A stun gun would not have helped me to protect myself on the two occasions when I was attacked previously. On the other hand if I was threatened by anyone close enough for me to use a stun gun then I felt that I could deal with them without a weapon. Unless, of course, my assailant had a firearm, in which case a stun gun would be useless anyway.

  The three of them sat silently watching me mull the suggestion over. Finally I made a decision and said, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  ***

  Later that evening I made a Skype video call to Christine. I was still in Cairns and would catch a charter flight to the mine site early in the morning. Phil O’Brien had called during the afternoon to confirm that Geoff Fry had moved all of his other work out of his workshops and had instituted a twenty four roster working on the Red Rock contract. Phil was going to hang around in Townsville at least until the weekend to monitor progress. On his own initiative he had rung the FNQEB in Cairns to tell them that they were not needed. I was pleased. He was much more on the ball than earlier and I was confident that he would continue that way. There were also a few brush fires amongst the subcontractors to be put out as soon as I got back to the construction site in the morning, but they would have to wait until then. My immediate priority was to talk to Christine.

  Our greetings had become more and more easy-going and light hearted each time that we talked. It seemed that we had fallen into a confident relationship where we both enjoyed exploring each others thoughts and ideas. Finally I got around to describing the meeting with Hargreaves and the discussion with the people from the Crime and Corruption Commission. I did not mention their suggestion that I arm myself, but I did tell her about the likely DNA tests and the plan to check the identity of the two men who had been interested in ‘Irish Mist’ on two occasions.

  ***

  Wednesday February 10

  Red Rock Project Site

  It was around two a.m. fifteen days later when I was awakened by a beeping from my cell phone. It was a signal from the security camera set up on ‘Irish Mist’. If it wasn’t some sort of electronic malfunction then someone was on board.

  I rolled out of bed and sat down at the small table on which my laptop computer normally slept and got re-energised during the night. Moments later it was up and running and I was linked to the onboard webcam.

  It was not an electronic malfunction. Someone was onboard ‘Irish Mist’. Two someones actually. They were both wearing balaclavas which were pulled down to conceal their faces. The thought crossed my mind that they must be hot and uncomfortable to wear in the warm and steamy Cairns night.

  I had a choice, I could remotely trigger the alarm on the boat. The chances then were that the two intruders would flee and I would be none the wiser regarding either their attentions or their identities. Or I could wait and see how things panned out.

  There was never really any doubt about what I would do, I would wait and see what they did next.

  The intruders seemed to be searching for something and had turned the cabin lights on knowing that the cabin porthole windows were covered. Eventually one of them looked in the direction of the webcam and exclaimed. “Got it.” Then reaching up he plucked an object from the bulkhead close to the webcam lens.

  Then turning the object over in his hands he gave a contemptuous laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s just a dummy. The stupid fool outwitted himself this time. The cheapskate thought that he would scare us off with a dummy security camera.” As he stepped back I could see the object. It was the dummy camera that Brian had suggested that I use as a decoy. I had placed it about half a metre from the well hidden webcam which was installed in a cupboard behind a bulkhead. A three millimetre hole had been drilled in a dark coloured section of the bulkhead which made the hole virtually impossible to see particularly as it was close to a bulkhead light facing into the cabin. The webcam lens fitted snugly in the hole and Brian’s plan had worked perfectly. Having found the decoy, the man now holding the dummy camera turned towards the second intruder and removed his own balaclava saying. “We can take these bloody things off now, thank God.”

  As he turned back to look around the cabin I recognised him immediately, it was D S Strong. I punched my fists in the air and gave a whispered shout of “Yes.”

  We had done it. Brian and I had caught a big fish in our trap. We had struck the jackpot. But who else had we caught. I did not have long to wait. It turned out to be an even bigger fish. As the other intruder peeled off his balaclava I recognised him just as readily, it was none other than D I John Hargreaves himself.

  Both men were wearing rubber gloves, probably police
issue for use at crime scenes which struck me as being a little ironic. This clearly wasn’t quite the crime scene use intended when the gloves were issued to them. As I watched them in action it was soon evident that they had a plan that included not wasting time.

  Strong dropped to his knees and started examining the cabin floor muttering. “Harry said that it was here somewhere.”

  I instantly knew what he was looking for. He was seeking the floor panel that covered the under-floor storage for canned goods and other seldom accessed items. The Harry that he mentioned was probably Harry Hawsall. Just another piece of evidence linking Hawsall to ‘Irish Mist’.

  It did not take him long to find it. Moments later he exclaimed, “Found it.” And lifted a section of the cabin floor measuring about a metre long and a third as wide. I could not see inside the storage area but I knew what was there, canned food and a collection of heavy objects including tool boxes and a small dinghy anchor. Sitting immediately on top of the keel these heavy items were stowed in a location that helped keep the yacht’s centre of gravity below its centre of buoyancy. A key characteristic of all yachts.

  D S Strong then commenced removing stored items and laying them on the floor behind him. A minute or so later he reached up and was handed a paper wrapped package that Hargreaves had removed from beneath his jacket. After Strong stowed it below the floor Hargreaves handed him a second package which was also placed in the under-floor storage area. D S Strong then proceeded to place the previously removed items on top of the two packages and replaced the floor panel.

  As D S Strong stood up he grunted. “Now, let’s see that tricky bastard wriggle his way out of this.”

  D I Hargreaves grunted. “Okay. That’s done. Stick that dummy camera back on the wall, lock up and we are on our way.” Looking at his watch he added. “Good. At this rate we should be back in Townsville by daybreak.”

  Once again I felt a little voyeuristic spying on them without them knowing that I was watching everything that they did, and heard everything that they said. And recorded it all in the Cloud.