Red Dragons

by K W Frost

  ‘He’s not one of the people you spoke to about the Amazon affair?’

  ‘No, I’ve done business with those men before — that’s why I was prepared to talk over the phone. I would recognise them immediately.’

  ‘Who else would be interested in following you then?’

  ‘No one was interested in following me, you have the wrong man.’

  Kioki looked disdainfully at Whittingham. Could he really be so stupid as to doubt him? He tried another track.

  ‘What security arrangements that you have undertaken since our meeting earlier?’

  ‘Nothing… when I was out at a meeting, my rooms were swept by a professional.’

  ‘When did you ask for this to be done?’ asked Kioki.

  ‘Well, actually, I didn’t… I presumed the government had sent someone. I’m an important negotiator for the business community,’ Whittingham explained pompously.

  ‘Did you find out who came to your office, and who authorised the sweep?’

  ‘There was no need, was there?’

  ‘Check, right now,’ ordered Kioki.

  ‘Uh… okay… I’ll have to ring Raewyn,’ stammered Whittingham. He got out his cellphone and punched a few buttons, his brow furrowed.

  ‘Hello Raewyn, this is Whittingham here —yes, I’m fine thank you. I just have a few questions concerning the security check this afternoon. Did you contact the firm to check on the man’s credentials? No… okay… well did you get a card? No card, right. Well, can you remember the firm or the man’s name? Hardaway from Superior Securities. Yes, yes, I’m sure it’ll be fine, I might just double check that’s all.’

  Kioki gestured at Whittingham, asking him to cover the mouthpiece.

  ‘Get her to describe the man to you.’

  ‘One last thing, Raewyn — could you describe the man to me please…’

  As Raewyn described the man to Whittingham, his faced slowly turned grey and then white. Stunned, he ended the call without even thanking Raewyn. Kioki saw Whittingham’s reaction and demanded an explanation.

  ‘What is it Whittingham? Do you recognise him?’

  Whittingham looked over at Kioki disbelief.

  ‘Child.’

  ‘Child?’ Kioki asked, his voice beginning to show some irritation.

  ‘Simon Child is the problem that I thought we’d be rid of by now,’ Whittingham said in a low whisper. ‘He was supposed to be dead.’

  ‘Explain,’ demanded Kioki.

  Whittingham proceeded to tell Kioki everything, from how the yellow container was mislaid, to all the attempts to retrieve it. He recounted last night’s attack by the Black Power mob, and explained about his phone conversation with Child as he had left Kioki’s hotel earlier today. Kioki was furious by the time Whittingham had finished.

  ‘You should have told me all this before,’ Kioki raged. ‘He knows all about the computer board and its functions!’

  ‘No, he knows nothing of importance,’ replied Whittingham in a low voice. ‘He only knows about me.’

  ‘Go home now and I’ll contact you there,’ Kioki spat. ‘I’ll have both your office and home swept by our people. Do not — I repeat — do not call anyone or do anything.

  Whittingham left the grey building quietly, relieved to get away from a furious Kioki. He realised now that he had made a major mistake by underestimating Child. Who would have thought that a lone wolf like him could take on a Black Power gang and beat them down in only a few hours. Whittingham knew he had to reach home safely and do some serious rethinking of the situation. He was still important to the plan, and Kioki’s main Kiwi connection over here.

  Kioki waited till Whittingham had left the building before swearing loudly in Japanese.

  ‘He could ruin everything,’ he snarled, his huge chest puffed up with rage. ‘How could he let someone like this Child get away like that…’

  ‘Please, Mr Kioki, now is a time for clear thinking,’ soothed Tagahasi. ‘We will find Child and remove him from the situation.’

  Kioki looked over at Tagahasi, a questioning look on his face.

  ‘Mr Whittingham works in a new, plush office,’ Tagahasi explained. ‘When I visited him there, I noticed security cameras everywhere. I will simply access the security files, locate the correct time from earlier today and then we will have a clear visual of our man.’

  ‘Yes, good thinking, Tagahasi… identify and eliminate.’

  ‘We may also have another problem, Mr Kioki.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘How did you know where to go to meet me here?’

  ‘Ah… yes. I was called by phone, which of course will be bugged now. Child will know all about this place.’

  ‘He’ll have a location, but that’s all,’ Tagahasi agreed. ‘If this is of my doing only, they couldn’t suspect or understand what is here,’ he continued, gesturing to his workstation.

  ‘Is it possible to move it?’ Kioki asked. ‘Move it and still be ready by tomorrow night?’

  ‘No, unfortunately that won’t be possible… and on reflection, it wouldn’t be desirable either. When Child locates this address, he will of course come here to investigate. All I ask, Mr Kioki, is for sufficient protection so that I am not disturbed or attacked. I’m hoping a man with your kind of resources can help me with that. That way, we might remove Child and his associates in one action, and then be free to continue our work in peace.’

  Kioki looked at Tagahasi and nodded.

  ‘Right, Tagahasi, I have work to do. Thank you for your hard work.’

  The two men bowed slightly before Kioki exited the office, leaving the smaller man alone with his electronic masterpiece and packets of dried noodles.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  After losing Whittingham on the street, Ritson hung around the area where he had last seen him, his eyes scanning the sea of faces. However, Ritson had missed Whittingham exiting the grey building as he had returned to his underground car park by a different route, spooked by Kioki’s suggestion that he was being followed. Eventually, Ritson gave up on finding Whittingham on the street. He met up with Child again, who had retrieved the bug data from Whittingham’s office. Child wanted to know if Whittingham had made any calls after his meeting today.

  An hour later, driving in a small rental van with Interflora signage printed on both sides, Child and Ritson passed by Whittingham’s home address. As expected, a large American car was parked in the driveway. This meant Whittingham was at home.

  Ritson parked on the opposite side of the street from the Whittingham residence. Child enjoyed Ritson’s broad grin when he handed him a bunch of gift-wrapped roses with a note saying From Your Loving Admirer. Child gestured to the house opposite Whittingham’s.

  ‘Just give them to the lady of the house. Say you were asked to drop these off for a friend, but you couldn’t say who and then just leave. By the time you get back I’ll be done.’

  ‘First time I’ve ever given a stranger flowers,’ Ritson grinned. ‘Should be interesting.’

  Ritson headed up the concrete path, whistling a tune, his broad frame making him an unlikely flower deliveryman, even if his formal suit wasn’t out of place.

  Child stayed in the van to download the data from the bugs Ritson had placed there earlier in the afternoon.

  Child had contacted Ritson and asked for his help on this job. Ritson was often on the same team as Child when it came to the mock war games, and he had developed a skill in being sneaky. Ritson had successfully placed the bugs while posing as a charity collection person.

  Child let the electronic download proceed while keeping an eye on Whittingham’s house and the street. Across the road, a gardener was trimming an already immaculate hedge dividing Whittingham’s property from his neighbour, using a hand clipper to remove individual shoots. Further down the street, a young girl was riding her bike up the footpath towards the intersection before turning and coming back down again. Whittingham was nowhere to be seen.

>   By the time Ritson had delivered the flowers, the download had finished. The download was done at speed and didn’t really need the time given, however, Child made sure he had a good look at the Whittingham residence. If he needed to pay Whittingham a visit, he wanted some idea of the layout.

  As Ritson and Child drove down the street, they saw an NZTS van parked at the corner. It was the sort of area where all services were catered for. Child didn’t think it necessary to follow Whittingham every minute of the day. He knew where to find him if required.

  Sam also had a frustrating afternoon. After agreeing that they should try to keep an eye on Kioki, she drank three cups of coffee watching for him, and was almost afloat before she had called Child and they soon agreed she should leave it. Unbeknownst to Samantha, Kioki had slipped out a side door of the hotel and went to his meeting with Whittingham.

  After leaving the cafe, Samantha collected the Toyota from where Child had left it and went in search for some new accommodation and takeaway food.

  An hour later, they met back at a motel. It was situated down a side street and barely scraped its one-star rating. The only room available was a four-person suite with a double and two single beds, but no one minded. She had been lucky to find anything at all, with APEC starting. The wallpaper in the suite was beginning to peel where the damp of the bathroom had penetrated the walls. The single picture on the wall was faded and the curtains looked in danger of disintegrating. However, the television worked and Child had turned it on hoping to catch the news.

  That day, the news was all about the prime minister of New Zealand meeting with leaders of foreign states. Only at the very end of the main news, was there a mention of a burnt out car being found by Mount Eden prison. The news anchor speculated that gang rivalry was involved. Nobody wanted to make a big deal out of it with foreign press seeking out impressions of New Zealand, as well as the government wishing to maintain the country’s image of natural beauty and safety.

  There were four people crowded around the small table. Child and Samantha on sat one side with Gray looking from the other end. They watched as Ritson slowly unfolded blank piece of ink blotting paper that Child had taken from Whittingham’s office.

  Ritson had retrieved his small but powerful magnifying glass. He was carefully, if not painstakingly, going over every square inch of the paper. Samantha tapped her fingers on the table with growing impatience. Child and Gray both mirrored calm exteriors, happy to let Ritson complete the examination in peace. Finally, Ritson stood up and turned the blank piece of paper around until it was up the other way.

  ‘Whittingham is right handed — he, sat down here and made three different markings today,’ stated Ritson gesturing towards the paper.

  ‘How do you know he was right handed?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘Indentations are just right off the centre,’ explained Ritson. ‘It looks like a telephone number. It’s tilted down on the left and rises again slightly to the right. This is a natural action for a right-handed person. It’s possible for a left-hander too, but it’d be more difficult. So, the percentages go with him being right-handed.’

  ‘How do you know that the three markings were made today?’ inquired Gray.

  ‘Again, just working off the percentages… if you had a blotter on your table for a whole week, what would be on it?’

  ‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ Gray nodded. ‘It would be covered with random notes, sketches, ideas. With there only being a few things, you are quite correct to assume that Whittingham replaces his blotter with a new page each day.’

  ‘Probably gets his secretary to do it,’ added Ritson.

  ‘Thank you, Watson,’ interjected Child in slightly mocking way. ‘Now can we continue and find out what he wrote today.’ His smile removed any ill intent.

  Ritson rummaged through his shopping bag and produced a 2B pencil.

  Carefully, he began to lightly brush the areas that he had already identified as marked. Again, there was silence as slowly Ritson began to reveal the first of the markings. He stepped back to allow more light to fall on the paper.

  ‘It’s a telephone number: zero, two, five, six, seven, seven, one, three, five, nine… or it might be another seven.’

  Ritson then leant forward and started on the next indentations. The next area was a bigger and it was full five minutes before Ritson stepped back again.

  ‘This one is a little easier to see,’ he said. ‘It reads: Mr Kioki. Regent. 2pm.’

  Samantha turned to Child.

  ‘Whittingham’s meeting with Mr Kioki.’

  ‘Yes, yes, we already know about that one. The question is, if the blotter gets changed each day… what did Whittingham write today?’ Child asked Ritson.

  ‘This may be the hard one,’ explained Ritson, inspecting the paper closely. ‘It looks like a sketch or maybe just an idle doodle.’

  Samantha couldn’t understand the calm exteriors of the men around her. It was in her nature to be active and wanting answers immediately. Almost subconsciously she rested her hand on Childs forearm. Child smiled back at her and slipped has arm around he waist to give her a reassuring squeeze. They then returned their attention to the doodle being revealed.

  ‘Well that’s it,’ stated Ritson as he stepped back. ‘It looks like he might’ve just been drawing some random lines… the position is in the right place for absent-minded doodling while thinking about something else.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Steve,’ Child agreed, ‘but I have to disagree with your conclusion. If you’re thinking about something else wouldn’t you naturally draw what’s on your mind?’

  ‘Yes, Simon… I think you are right,’ added Gray. ‘It might just give us a lead on what he was thinking about earlier today.’

  The group peered closely at the markings revealed by the pencil shading.

  ‘It almost looks like a syringe,’ Gary continued, turning to look at Child. ‘Didn’t you say Whittingham was involved in drugs in some way?’

  ‘I filled Gray in on what’s been happening on the way down here,’ explained Ritson.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Child, his eyes fixated on the drawing. Once the imprint was firmly in his mind, he stepped back and focused absently on the far wall.

  ‘He’s a supplier, not a user,’ Child said almost to himself. ‘He gave no indication of using drugs himself, but this was just my initial impression, so it may be wrong. Many a businessman has got hooked on ‘P’. I think that the doodle is of something else. The top part definitely has a long point coming from a wider base… he’s used two converging lines… ‘

  Child’s eyes returned to the drawing. Something had clicked in his brain.

  ‘Of course! it’s the Sky Tower.’

  ‘The Sky Tower?’ Samantha repeated.

  ‘The Sky Tower!’ agreed Ritson. ‘I think you’re right, Simon.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘Come and take a look,’ said Child as he moved over to the window. From there, the dominant feature of the Auckland skyline could be seen. Samantha joined Child and agreed that it did look like a grotesque, upright syringe.

  ‘Okay, so why is Whittingham doodling the Sky Tower?’ she inquired further.

  ‘It’s a dominant feature in the city centre,’ offered Ritson. ‘Perhaps he was just looking out the window and saw it?’

  Ritson always ready to state the obvious solution. He was often right.

  ‘It’s possible, only Whittingham’s office looks out over the harbour,’ countered Child. ‘The Sky Tower is at his back. Anyway, it’s too early to speculate, as we don’t have enough information. Let’s hear the tapes and then try to work out a plan.’

  ‘No, let’s eat first — I’m starved,’ Ritson demanded hungrily. ‘Thank god someone was thinking around here and brought food,’ he added with an admiring look at Samantha. ‘Not like our esteemed leader…’

  ‘Can’t think of everything all of the time,’ Child grinned. ‘Besides, I
knew you’d get hungry before me. You’re built for it.’

  Gray moved over to help Samantha open up the takeaway boxes.

  ‘Look at yourself,’ retaliated Ritson, ‘if you needed food to maintain muscle, you could probably feed yourself for a week on a club sandwich and a glass of water.’

  ‘Do they always go on like this?’ Samantha asked Gray quietly.

  ‘Most of the time…’ Gray laughed. ‘It does help relieve tension though doesn’t it. Come on, let’s get them eating before they start fighting!’

  It was half an hour before they were ready to listen to the tapes. It was agreed that they would listen all the way through them while taking their own notes, and then discuss what they had heard from there. Ritson turned the volume up and they sat back to listen. There wasn’t much recorded and it only took ten minutes to listen to both tapes. They repeated the office tape twice before each person spent a couple of minutes noting down thoughts and options.

  Child and Samantha sat back on the lounge settee, their legs almost touching. They had resisted looking at each other’s notes. Gray sat at the end of the table; his ashy hair and thick glasses made him look like an old professor marking papers. Ritson controlled the tape, his solid frame at the side of the table watching Child and Samantha making notes.

  ‘Well, that’s it,’ stated Ritson. ‘Anyone want to hear anything again?’

  He got no reply so turned the tape recorder off.

  ‘I’ll start off, if you like?’

  ‘Yeah, go ahead,’ Child nodded.

  ‘Blue Water Securities are important.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Samantha and Gray simultaneously.

  ‘Agreed,’ added Child, ‘but let’s be clear and state your reasons.’

  ‘Fine, okay. First off, it’s obvious that this was the meeting that Whittingham had arranged with Kioki. The fact that he had cover and that a tracker was prevented from following him down Queen Street meant that the location of the meeting had to remain a secret. Therefore, we need to investigate it. Secondly, this Kioki guy must have slipped out of the Regent from a side door, otherwise Sam would have seen him.’