Cassidy

by Morris West

  ‘It bothers the hell out of me, Arthur.’

  ‘Because you think your wife’s having an affair?’

  ‘Because she’s never done anything like this before. She’s always made a big event of getting the kids back to school. Why didn’t she call me? Why did she leave it to Clare to send the telex?’

  ‘Perhaps she tried to call but missed you.’

  ‘There were no messages at the hotel. She’s meticulous about communications, always has been. Besides, the security aspect is dangerously messy – the kids in England, she in Switzerland. Nothing’s happened yet, but if anything blows before I get home, everyone’s terribly vulnerable.’

  ‘Perhaps Mr. Marius Melville has persuaded her otherwise: a powerful man, a lifetime friend of her father, connections everywhere. I imagine he could be very persuasive… about anything.’ He broke off for a moment and then, a trifle uncertainly, broached a new argument. ‘I’m more worried about you. You’re being forced to rush through a critical confrontation with Marius Melville because you’re worried about a domestic situation. You’re resentful about it, too, which makes you vulnerable in other ways. I can’t help wondering…’

  ‘Whether Marius Melville is setting me up.’

  ‘Or simply softening you up. You and I have both done that with legal adversaries. You’re quite a prize for any marauder. You’ve got to expect rough tactics.’

  ‘So what do you advise?’

  ‘Talk to your wife first. I presume she will call as you asked. Suggest, very gently, that there are certain risks and you’d prefer she were home with the children. If she doesn’t buy that, don’t fight. Arrange to meet her in Zurich. There’s a regular Swissair flight from Bangkok. I’ve used it several times… Old and simple counsel, Martin: never fight over the telephone. One of you is sure to slam down the receiver. Then there’s hell to pay afterwards… What else can I say? Let’s get back to work. We’ve got a lot to get through today.’

  We went to join Sergeant Donohue at the scanner. I told him of my conversation with the Commissioner. He was very offhanded about it.

  ‘Then he’ll instruct me in due course. That’s his way. I’ll get a phone call or a telex or a letter in the daily bag. Relax, Mr. Gregory. The Commissioner works strictly by the book. I’m surprised he gave way on this one…’

  Ten minutes later, while we were trying to make sense out of a complicated but badly drawn diagram on the banking connections of certain casino owners, Pat called from Switzerland. I asked the switchboard to give me the call in an interview room two doors down the corridor. Pat was composed and cordial.

  ‘Martin! I’m sorry we’ve been missing each other. You got Clare’s telex?’

  ‘I got it. I’m not sure I understand it.’

  ‘It’s simple really. I’ve been working very hard at langlaufen. That’s –’

  ‘I know what langlaufen is, darling.’

  ‘Well then, you’ll understand. There’s a big competition at the end of this week. My instructor thinks I’m good enough to enter the women’s section. I don’t expect to win, but I could manage a place… I put all this in a letter. Mr. Melville’s bringing it out to you in Bangkok. He’s been very kind. He’s letting me have the house for the extra time. You sound very grumpy. Is something the matter?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t like the family being split up at this time. There are certain risks…’

  ‘I know. I talked about those with Mr. Melville. He told me he’d have people on watch day and night at the kids’ schools and at our house. He says you’re very valuable to him and he wants to make things as easy as possible for us all. So I’m not really a neglectful mother, darling. Truly I’m not…’

  Had I let it lie there, things might, just might, have been different. I didn’t. I had to hammer the nail right into the wood. I said, ‘Listen, love! I told you from the beginning I didn’t want you to accept favours from Marius Melville. You did, so that’s water over the dam. But now, any day, I can find myself in an adversary position with him – and you’re asking his advice on your life as if I don’t exist. It isn’t good enough, sweetheart. He’s not your husband, I am. At least you owe me the courtesy of a call before you make a decision like this…’

  Then, with an almighty crash, the heavens fell in.

  ‘Courtesy! My god, Martin Gregory, you’re a fine one to talk of courtesy. Did you ask my permission before you started catting around Sydney!’

  ‘What the hell do you mean, catting!’

  ‘You know damn well what I mean, Martin! I was prepared to wear it, because I knew you were working for us and I knew the stress you were under. But not now, Martin… not ever again…’

  And then, as Arthur Rebus had warned, the receiver was slammed down and I had only myself and my ill-humour to blame. Or did I, by Christ? Someone had done a very good job of traducing me to my own wife. It was a real Cassidy ploy – convoluted, paradoxical, full of nasty little ironies – except that Cassidy was dead and buried and the piping of his ghost was getting thinner and thinner. Rebus counselled, as all lawyers do, a cooling-off period. He drafted a telex to Pat and handed it himself to the operator at the bank:

  I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE HEARD SO I CANNOT AND WILL NOT DEFEND MYSELF AGAINST ANONYMOUS CALUMNY. I WILL BE PASSING THROUGH ZURICH ON MY WAY HOME TO LONDON. WILL TELEX YOU ARRIVAL TIME AND ASK YOU TO MEET ME. IF WE CAN MAKE SENSE TO EACH OTHER, LET’S GO HOME TOGETHER TO OUR CHILDREN. I LOVE YOU.

  MARTIN

  I told him I didn’t believe it would do much good. Pat was her father’s daughter. Once an idea was fixed in a Cassidy head you had to use a jackhammer to ream it out. Rebus did not argue. He sat me down in front of the scanner and ordered me to concentrate.

  ‘…It’s your last chance. You have to know the issues that will be decided by a sale or no-sale of our information to Marius Melville. You have to guess what more he’s going to ask of you and how you’re going to respond. We’ve got to discuss worst cases, best cases, all the options in between – including, very possibly, a bullet in your head. Are you ready now, Mr. Gregory?’

  ‘I’m ready, Mr. Rebus.’

  ‘Then switch on, Sergeant Donohue, and let’s see how we arrange the rape of the ungodly.’

  Half an hour later we struck gold: a whole series of diagrams of the organisation and shareholdings of Cassidy’s trading companies in the Far East. They followed an identical pattern. One-third share held by a local – like Pornsri Rhana in Thailand – one-third by Melville through his Melmar group, one-third by Cassidy through the Rotdrache trust. Since the local shareholder was always a Cassidy nominee, the assumption was that policy would be determined in Cassidy’s favour.

  These organisation plans were followed by schematic diagrams, showing the acquisition of products, their distribution and the transmission of funds from their trading transactions. These diagrams made it clear that Australia, as a stable, British-style democracy in the South Pacific, was emerging more and more as a clearing house for financial transactions, container shipping and bonded air-courier services. Money was washed through under a variety of business names. Goods were held in bond, free from Customs checks, and onforwarded by container ship or aircraft. Given the proliferation of trading in arms, drugs and classified strategic materials, given the shortage of trainee Customs officers and the venality of some local staff, it was an almost foolproof system.

  Finally, there was an outline, less easy to follow, of the connection between Cassidy’s Far Eastern operations and groups on the mainland United States, in the Bahamas, Europe and the Mediterranean Basin. Sergeant Donohue was hopping with excitement. He was insistent that all the diagrams had to be copied before the briefcase left the country. The schematic material was too valuable to risk. It was, like the Enigma cypher during the war, the key to a huge sector of criminal operations. Once again, it was Arthur Rebus who issued the caveats.

  ‘…First question: how much does Marius Melville know about the actual contents of the briefc
ase?’

  ‘He must know a hell of a lot.’ Sergeant Donohue was emphatic about it. ‘Otherwise, why would he offer five million for it?’

  ‘If he knows,’ said Rebus amiably, ‘why pay anything?’

  ‘To remove the thing from circulation.’

  ‘Not good enough, Sergeant. Every villain knows that you buy nothing in a blackmail situation. You can copy anything ad infinitum. What say you, Martin?’

  ‘I’m trying to read what was in Cassidy’s mind when he put together this little box of tricks… He never did anything simply. His whole career was an elaborate series of moves and counter-moves, designed to confuse his friends as much as his enemies. Laura Larsen was telling me the other day that Cassidy and her father were like brothers. I believed her; but I’m sure it was like the Brotherhood of the South – full of reservations, open always to conflict of interest and the suspicion of treachery. Cassidy was comfortable with that. He understood it. So my guess is that, in all his dealings with Melville, the information we have in this briefcase was his insurance policy. He let Melville know just enough so that he realised the insurance policy was in force and that Melville might be able to cash it in after Cassidy’s death… Now I’m not sure that situation obtains any more.’

  ‘Why not?’ It was Sergeant Donohue who asked the question.

  ‘Because by now Melville knows we’ve been in contact with the Federal Police.’

  ‘How would he know that?’

  ‘His daughter has been having me watched. She was able to give me a full account of our movements and contacts in Canberra.’

  ‘So you’ve got nothing to sell,’ said Rebus flatly. ‘The material has been exposed. It’s worthless.’

  ‘Except that Melville doesn’t know what the material is.’

  ‘You think he won’t guess?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what he guesses. He doesn’t know. He won’t know until the material is actually in his hands.’

  ‘Why should it ever get there?’ asked Donohue. ‘You leave the briefcase here, locked up in the vault of the Banque de Paris. Rebus has access to it. So have we. You go to Bangkok and simply tell Melville, very courteously, that there’s no deal.’

  ‘And,’ said Arthur Rebus, ‘that the briefcase material is compromised. What does he do then?’

  ‘Then he has to present a new deal. I’m still sitting as delegate of a half-billion trust fund which is also the effective owner of one-third of all the Oriental enterprises and has a stake in some of Melville’s as well.’

  ‘On the other hand,’ said Donohue pleasantly, ‘he might decide to take you out – permanently!’

  ‘I don’t see what that buys him.’

  ‘An empty space on the board.’

  We were just mulling over this pleasant proposition when the telephone rang. The switchgirl asked me to hold for a call from Parliament House. A few moments later, Rafe Loomis came on the line.

  ‘Martin?’

  ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Loomis?’

  ‘You remember our last meeting?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘My driver drove you to a dinner date.’

  ‘Not exactly. I told you I had a dinner date. Your driver took me back to my hotel. I went out later to keep the date.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Martin. The police would like to talk to you about your date.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Best we don’t discuss it on the phone. Detective-Inspector Nichols is on his way to see you now. Is it convenient?’

  ‘As it happens, yes. Arthur Rebus, my lawyer, is with me – and Sergeant Donohue of the Federal Police.’

  ‘Oh! Well, in that case…’

  ‘Inspector Nichols will be very welcome. Once I know what he wants, I’ll give him all the help I can. There’s only one problem. I leave tomorrow for Bangkok.’

  ‘I know,’ said Rafe Loomis. ‘I hope the Inspector will have finished with you by flight time.’

  When I put down the phone and told them what Loomis had said, Sergeant Donohue offered the happy thought that this was where the dreck was about to hit the fan. Arthur Rebus regretted that he had not made the handover to Standish and Waring and taken delivery of the share certificate. Donohue then began to debate whether he shouldn’t call the Commissioner and seek some direction on the matter. He finally decided against it on the grounds that he couldn’t yet define the matter in terms the Commissioner would accept. Which was just as well, because the matter which Detective-Inspector Nichols wanted to discuss was something quite different.

  At seven in the morning, a neighbour going to work noticed that the front door of Pornsri Rhana’s apartment was ajar. She rang the bell. There was no answer. She pushed open the door and called. Then she went downstairs and asked the doorman to investigate. He found Pornsri lying on the bed. She was heavily bruised on the neck, face and arms. An empty syringe was lying on the floor. The body was cold. She had obviously been dead for at least an hour. All the evidence suggested that she had been forcibly subdued and injected with a massive overdose of narcotics.

  My first reaction was numbness. It was as though I had been struck by a bullet and was still walking. Then I felt violently ill. I rushed to the toilet and vomited into the pan. When I came back, the Inspector began his questioning.

  ‘We know from our surveillance reports and from our questioning of Marco Cubeddu that you had contact with the lady. So we’d like to ask you some questions – in private, if possible.’

  ‘Not possible,’ said Arthur Rebus quickly. ‘My client will respond here and now, in the presence of his solicitor and an officer of the Federal Police.’

  ‘So be it,’ said Inspector Nichols wearily. ‘Had you in fact met the lady, Mr. Gregory?’

  ‘Yes. On two occasions. The first was on the evening after Charles Cassidy’s funeral. She came to my hotel. We had a brief conversation about her connection with the deceased and her involvement with his affairs abroad. The second was on the day of my last meeting with the Attorney-General. I went to her house for dinner and was back at my hotel before midnight.’

  ‘Where were you last night?’

  ‘With me,’ said Arthur Rebus. ‘We dined at Rosa’s in Kings Cross. I dropped him back at his hotel about half an hour after midnight.’

  ‘You didn’t go out again?’

  ‘No. I telephoned Klosters in Switzerland. Then I went to bed.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Regrettably, yes.’

  ‘No other communication with the lady other than on the two occasions mentioned?’

  ‘Yes. A telephone call to her house.’

  ‘I was there when the call came through,’ said Arthur Rebus. ‘I was conferring with her about some documents.’

  ‘This would be when?’

  ‘The night before last.’

  ‘What documents were you conferring about, Mr. Rebus?’

  ‘A share certificate in a Philippines company and the consideration that was to be paid for it. The transaction was being handled through Standish and Waring, who represent the Macupan Pharmaceutical Company in Manila.’

  ‘Was there anything abnormal about that transaction, Mr. Rebus?’

  ‘Quite a lot,’ said Rebus. ‘And Sergeant Donohue here will be able to communicate it to you. Before we get to it, however, I’d like to establish some groundwork.’

  ‘What sort of groundwork?’

  ‘Are you aware that the deceased was the mistress of the late Premier, Charles Cassidy, and that she had borne him a child?’

  ‘Yes, we were aware of that.’

  ‘It was common knowledge?’

  ‘In certain circles, yes sir. On the whole, though, it was what you might call a discreet situation.’

  ‘You were aware of the fact that she was a major shareholder and director of the Chao Phraya Trading Company, Bangkok? Are you also aware that the Macupan Pharmaceutical Company of Manila is run by Erhardt Möller, a former member of the Painters and Dockers Union, who h
as heavy form here and big criminal connections abroad?’

  The Inspector was uneasy about both questions. He stumbled a little over his answer.

  ‘I’m sure both pieces of information are in my files, Mr. Rebus, but I’ll have to check. I’ve come straight from the scene of the crime to you.’

  ‘Furthermore – and you’ll note that all this information is volunteered – Mr. Gregory as executor and I as his local solicitor are engaged to settle Mr. Cassidy’s estate. We have still to establish what provisions Cassidy made for his mistress and her daughter – and, indeed, what happens to the girl now. This is one of the reasons which takes Mr. Gregory to Bangkok tomorrow and was taking Miss Rhana there on the same flight.’

  ‘All this is very helpful, sir; but what we’re really looking for is a motive for the murder. Can you help us there, Mr. Gregory?’

  ‘Not very much, I’m afraid. From the start, I found myself in an embarrassing situation with the lady. She was the mistress of my wife’s father. Her child, therefore, is my wife’s half-sister.’

  ‘They could therefore be rival claimants to an estate.’

  ‘Not possible, Inspector,’ Arthur Rebus intervened swiftly. ‘You’ll see that when I demonstrate Cassidy’s will and trust deeds, which I am sure Mr. Gregory will want me to do.’

  ‘I can confirm, Inspector, that Miss Rhana told me that Cassidy had made adequate provision for her and for their child. It was he who established her interest in the Chao Phraya Trading Company. I am not yet clear on the details. We were to discuss them in Bangkok.’

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen. This brings me to Sergeant Donohue and this – this abnormal share transaction. What can you tell me about it, Sergeant?’

  ‘Not a lot,’ said Donohue cheerfully. ‘I’ll have to clear with my Commissioner first. Do you mind if I make a phone call from another office?’

  He walked jauntily out of the office, secure in his own righteousness and the protection of his own Service. Inspector Nichols was less happy.

  ‘I might have to take some new instructions myself. I’m not sure you’re going to make that plane tomorrow, Mr. Gregory.’