South Pacific Affair

by Drew Lindsay

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You seem to be aware that he was trying to locate a valuable necklace given to a king of Tonga many years ago by Queen Elizabeth?’

  ‘Yes, I covered that in my statement.’

  ‘You have seen a photograph of the necklace?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ben.

  ‘Joseph Hunter was attempting to sell it back to the King of Tonga. Negotiations were being conducted via a special email account which we understand the Tongan police were attempting to trace.’

  ‘No luck?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Not initially. They didn’t even know who they were dealing with or even where the emails were being sent from. They involved Interpol and got lucky. Hunter was killed before they could involve the Australian police. Oddly enough, the Tongan police seemed reluctant to provide all the information they had, especially the photograph of the necklace that Hunter had emailed to them.’

  ‘It’s just a necklace,’ said Ben. ‘What was their problem?’

  Hannam dropped the papers and photograph back on the desk. He sat back. ‘It would appear that you are involved up to your neck in this matter and the water may get deeper quite quickly. If you can undertake to keep your mouth shut, I will disclose something that I feel you should know.’

  ‘I know how to keep my mouth shut when circumstances dictate silence,’ said Ben.

  ‘This information is of a nature that may put your safety and the safety of your client in a rather precarious position.’

  ‘I have a feeling we’ve just gone past that mile post,’ said Ben.

  Detective Hannam picked up the large photograph and pushed it across the desk to Ben. ‘Have you seen this before?’

  Ben picked up the photograph and examined it briefly. ‘No.’

  ‘You just told me that you had seen the royal Tongan necklace.’

  ‘I have and this is the necklace but there is one additional piece added to it which I’ve never seen.’

  ‘It’s a diamond.’

  ‘I’ve seen better,’ said Ben.

  ‘No you haven’t.’

  ‘It’s nice. It complements the necklace perfectly but I’ve seen diamonds cut more professionally than this one and it has an odd white colouring. Does that make it special?’

  ‘It was part of the Crown Jewels of England long before the current Crown Jewels of England were created,’ said Hannam. ‘It was a special diamond that was believed destroyed or smashed and sold off in bits and pieces when Oliver Cromwell took to the royal family with a sword in the mid sixteen hundreds.’

  Ben examined the photograph again. ‘Big bucks eh?’

  ‘You couldn’t put a price on that rock.’

  ‘Who knows about this?’

  ‘Just a few. We now know that the Tongan police were reluctant to share this particular piece of information with Interpol or any other police organisation as it would appear Joseph Hunter didn’t know the true value of what had come into his possession. The king of Tonga is more concerned to have the diamond returned to the Queen of England than to recover the royal necklace.’

  Ben nodded. He pushed the photograph back towards Hannam. ‘So the stakes are higher than first imagined.’

  ‘Much higher. I’m not sure if the charming Harold Pickering knew this but his employer probably did.’

  ‘Pickering is obviously the Leb muscle?’

  ‘Yep. He doesn’t come cheap and he never talks. He’s done time for standover work but he never gives up the client.’

  ‘He’s doing worse than time now,’ said Ben.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hannam. ‘I don’t condone your type of violence.’

  ‘Do you condone his kind of violence?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Then you had better get your priorities in order mate,’ said Ben.

  Hannam put the photograph and papers back into the file and closed it. ‘We must work within the framework of the law and so must you, especially seeing that you are hired to work closely with Mrs. Hunter and anyone who may decide to come after her for information concerning the necklace.’

  Ben leaned forward in the chair. ‘If anyone comes after Sophia Hunter, do you think they will work within the framework of the law?’

  Hannam folded his arms. ‘What kind of question is that?’

  ‘A stupid one,’ said Ben.

  Hannam was silent for a moment. ‘She probably knows where her husband stashed the necklace.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ said Ben, ‘but I think she knows a tad more than she is letting on just now.’

  ‘I appreciate your honesty,’ said Hannam. ‘Can I rely on you reporting information to me that will assist our inquiries?’

  ‘Not entirely,’ said Ben.

  ‘What the hell kind of answer is that?’

  ‘I’ll report anything that isn’t likely to get me or my client killed,’ said Ben.

  ‘How would that be likely?’

  Ben sat back in the chair. ‘Anything I communicate to you is going to be sent to others…right?’

  ‘I’m not the Lone Ranger for God’s sake!’

  Ben was silent for a moment. ‘There are times when I have to be the Lone Ranger and just deal with situations on my own.’

  ‘I don’t like that,’ said Hannam.

  ‘Tough.’

  There was a gentle knock on the door. ‘Yes!’ said Hannam rather loudly.

  The door opened and a rather large uniformed female constable entered. ‘I apologise for the intrusion Detective Hannam but I was told to show you this immediately.’ She walked to his desk and laid a single sheet of paper before him. The constable glanced at Ben as she quickly left the room.

  Hannam read the short document without picking it up. He rubbed both hands at a short growth of rather unsuccessful ginger beard on his face. He didn’t look at Ben but kept his eyes on the document as he spoke. ‘I can prevent you from leaving Australia if necessary.’

  ‘I have no immediate plans to leave Australia just now,’ said Ben.

  Hannam spun the sheet of paper on his desk 180 degrees and pushed it towards Ben. ‘It seems your client is in receipt of a royal invitation.’

  Ben read the printed document. The Royal Standard of Tonga comprising a red cross and star in the centre surrounded by three stars, a crown, a white dove and three swords, occupied the top left hand corner of the document. It was addressed to Sophia Hunter and signed by the king of Tonga. The invitation was concise. “Sophia Hunter and her personal assistant Ann Flynn are invited to be special guests of King George Tupou VI at a private meeting in the Royal Palace, Nuku’Alofa Tonga in two days time. A bodyguard named Ben Hood is also invited to attend if Ms. Hunter feels it appropriate, although her safety is absolutely assured.”

  ‘How does the king of Tonga know about you?’ asked Hannam?’

  Ben shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps there is a blabber mouth in the camp?’

  ‘Not my camp!’

  ‘I don’t even have a camp,’ said Ben.

  ‘I’m not at all comfortable with this,’ said Hannam.

  ‘The original invitation was obviously sent to Sophia and you guys were copied in. The Tongan king trusts you to some degree,’ said Ben.

  ‘He seems to trust you also,’ said Hannam. ‘You wouldn’t get within a bull’s roar of that guy unless he had done his homework.’

  ‘He must know about the diamond,’ said Ben.

  ‘Of course he does.’

  ‘Sophia may dig her heels in and not go,’ said Ben.

  ‘Sophia is our unknown quantity here,’ said Hannam. ‘I need you to find out what she knows about that bloody necklace.’

  ‘I’m just her bodyguard,’ said Ben.

  Hannam stared at him.

  Ben got to his feet. ‘I meant to ask you. What police unit do you belong to?’

  ‘Special operations.’

  ‘International?’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Do I have your permission to leave Australia?�
� asked Ben.

  ‘I’ll be watching you,’ said Hannam.

  Ben walked to the office door. ‘If you watch too closely, you’ll bugger up this entire operation. Try explaining that to the Police Commissioner and the King of Tonga.’

  Hannam didn’t comment further as Ben left his office.

  “****”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The small but well built and neatly dressed man blew his nose on a pure white handkerchief. He glanced at Nancy Fiumara as he slid the handkerchief back into the right hand pocket of his very expensive suit pants. ‘I seem to have picked up something nasty on the plane. I do apologise my dear.’

  ‘Will it affect your work?’

  ‘Nothing affects my work.’ His voice was raspy and laced with menace. ‘I may be more expensive than others you hire, but I know my job.’

  Nancy nodded. ‘Harold Pickering worked on this particular assignment until he got taken down by a very accomplished bodyguard.’

  ‘Harold Pickering is a mindless ape. You should have known better.’

  ‘It would seem that birds of a feather…’

  ‘I’ve never flocked together with Harold Pickering and his kind. They disgust me.’

  Nancy glanced at the man’s thin white face, small mouth and short cropped brown hair. She had already decided that she hated him. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. The stakes however, were high and they needed the best in the business. ‘My client has a variety of reasons for having this particular necklace returned to him,’ she said. She placed a large photograph of the Royal Tongan necklace in front of Luke Darby. He studied it for a moment without speaking. Nancy put a long slender finger on the diamond attached to the necklace. ‘This gem is of particular importance however the entire piece of jewellery is probably worth more than you could ever imagine.’

  ‘Perhaps I should pinch it for myself,’ said Darby with a grin. His accent was slightly English as he had been born and raised in the UK. He had killed his father when he was eleven. Nothing was ever proved and he moved with his mother to Australia soon after. His mother knew what had happened but she was glad to be rid of a husband who gained pleasure in dominating her and making her life extremely miserable. Luke Darby enjoyed killing his father. It was well planned, deadly effective and didn’t leave the slightest trace that could implicate him in a culpable act. The Australian Army welcomed young Darby with open arms and his aggression against the enemy in Afghanistan would have probably been highly decorated other than for the fact that he was strongly suspected of butchering a number of unarmed enemy prisoners. Once again, charges were dropped because of lack of evidence but the army got rid of him and he slithered into the underworld of Australian crime as smoothly and silently as cooking oil goes down a drain.

  ‘You’ll do what you are paid to do and you’ll be watched,’ said Nancy.

  Darby sat back in the chair and laughed. ‘Are you going to watch me miss prim and proper?’

  Nancy stared back defiantly. ‘Don’t even think of crossing me Mr. Darby or you’ll end up where all your kind goes.’

  ‘Like Pickering?’

  ‘Worse than Pickering. Just find the necklace and if you screw with me and my client, I’ll have every low life junky wanting to make a buck after you in a flash. I want this done right. You have the necessary qualifications. Do your job and we’ll all come out on top.’

  Darby was silent for a moment. ‘I’ll be arranging some time off work to engage in this assignment.’

  ‘I know where you work,’ said Nancy.

  Darby raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you now?’

  ‘What in God’s name motivated a bloke like you to get so highly qualified in forensic science?’

  ‘I like messing with the dead. I’m very good at finding out how they died.’

  ‘And you kill on the side.’

  Darby put the index finger of his right hand to his lips. ‘Nasty rumour.’

  ‘Perhaps you should commence legal proceedings against anyone who slanders you in this regard.’

  ‘Would you represent me, as a lawyer and all?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ said Nancy.

  ‘That’s not very accommodating of you darling,’ said Darcy.

  ‘I’m not your darling.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘Full instructions are in the folder you have been given together with a photograph of the necklace. Sophia Hunter seems to be the key to locating the necklace. She has personal protection of a very high standard. I won’t tell you how to do your job.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ said Darby.

  ‘There is one other thing which may be of consequence.’

  ‘The story of my life,’ said Darby.

  ‘The owner of the diamond has hired her own person. My client’s life is at risk as may be the life of anyone who attempts to locate that necklace.’

  ‘Who owns the diamond?’ asked Darby, knowing that he wasn’t going to get an answer.’

  ‘That is none of your concern. She does however, have powerful connections with people like you.’

  ‘Male or female?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Females often use their own kind in this line of work.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Nancy.

  Darcy stood. ‘It would appear that Pickering ran into a big tough male.’

  ‘That was Hunter’s bodyguard. He will present a very real problem.’

  ‘Competition,’ said Darby with a smile. ‘This job seems to just get better and better.’

  ‘Don’t let your obvious male ego get in the way of doing this job effectively,’ said Nancy.

  Darcy tapped the file under his arm. ‘Bit of light reading and I’ll try and keep my male ego under control darling.’

  ‘If you call me darling once more, I’ll take you off the case.’

  Darby tapped the folder under his arm. ‘I’m on the case.’

  ‘You are as expendable as the rest of your kind,’ said Nancy.

  ‘So are you,’ said Darcy as he left the room.

  Rodney Reid put the piece of paper down on the coffee table in front of him. He glanced at Rose. ‘He’s been invited to have dinner with the king of damn Tonga!’

  ‘It’s a joint meeting,’ said Ben, sipping his coffee.

  ‘Obviously he has to go,’ said Rose. ‘It’s all about the royal necklace. I’d kill to meet the king of Tonga.’

  ‘Ben’s likely to get killed doing just that,’ said Rodney. ‘The Tongan kings plotted to kill Captain Cook you know.’

  ‘That was a very long time ago,’ said Rose. ‘The current Tongan king is a highly decorated and educated gentleman.’

  ‘How would you know?’

  ‘I read international news,’ said Rose. ‘The world has changed since the seventeen hundreds.’

  Rodney looked at Ben. ‘What’s with this Hunter woman?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Well, we’re off to a great start there, aren’t we?’

  ‘I have a gut feeling that she doesn’t know where the necklace is,’ said Ben.

  ‘Well the king of Tonga feels otherwise I’m sure.’

  ‘He’s fishing,’ said Ben.

  ‘Can’t you sleep with her and do pillow talk and stuff like that?’

  ‘Rodney Reid!’ snapped Rose. ‘You continually berate him for sleeping with the clients.’

  ‘Perhaps we could make an exception in this case,’ said Rodney meekly. She’s just his type.’

  ‘Meaning?’ asked Ben.

  ‘You know,’ said Rodney, holding up both hands underneath his chest. ‘Built…younger than you, recently bereaved.’

  Rose put down her tea cup. She fixed her eyes on her husband. ‘You are a very wicked man and I should have cut off more than your damn foot during the operation I performed to save your rotten life.’

  Rodney held up both hands in a defensive position. ‘It’s not as if he hasn’t done it before!’

  Rose g
ot to her feet and walked quickly to the kitchen muttering obscenities under her breath. Ben put down his coffee mug. ‘I think you pair need a holiday.’

  ‘Who keeps an eye on you if we go for a holiday?’ asked Rodney.

  ‘Once this job is over, we’ll all take a break,’ said Ben.

  ‘All I asked was that you attempt to extract some vital information from Sophia Hunter.’

  ‘By sleeping with her and a female witness?’

  Rodney slapped his forehead with the palm of his right hand. ‘I should never have shown you a photo of that witness.’

  ‘Loa Tei?’

  ‘See, it’s bloody obscene! You even remember her name for God’s sake!’

  ‘She is stunning,’ said Ben.

  ‘She works in a bloody chemist shop,’ said Rodney. ‘She probably screwed Joseph Hunter. I should have never shown you her photograph.’

  ‘But you did,’ said Ben.

  ‘I had to get you to agree to take on this job!’

  ‘I did,’ said Ben.

  ‘Because of a hot Tongan woman in a damn bikini?’

  ‘Why not?’

  Rodney sat back on the lounge. ‘You’re a very sick man. You need some professional assistance.’

  Ben got to his feet. ‘Never believe everything I say mate.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Rodney. ‘I need a drink!’

  ‘I’ll sort out the trip to Tonga and keep you informed.’

  ‘Well that will be a first.’

  ‘Perhaps I will sleep with both of them if you think that is appropriate,’ said Ben.

  ‘What!’

  ‘Both of them.’

  ‘Hunter and the chemist girl?’

  ‘And even Ann Flynn.’

  ‘Who the hell is Ann Flynn?’

  ‘Sophia Hunter’s personal assistant. Her name is on the Tongan invitation.’

  ‘Oh, her. Would she know anything?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Ben.

  ‘Is she old?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Late 20’s,’ said Ben.

  ‘Is she Tongan?’