Cyanide Games: A Peter Tanner Thriller

by Richard Beasley

  ‘Professional courtesy?’

  Tanner smiled. ‘I’m not doing Mr Aitken’s job for him.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Aitken said.

  ‘You’ve known for weeks about the Cook files. Yet neither you nor the police thought to ask this guy about prior conduct that may have been relevant.’

  ‘He’s got no priors.’

  ‘Most killers don’t.’

  ‘Enough,’ the judge said. He looked at Aitken. ‘Are you still going to object?’

  ‘Judge, I haven’t seen this document. I’ve been given very brief instructions.’

  ‘You take instructions from Richter’s lawyers, do you, Richard? Gee, I thought you were representing the Crown. Quick, someone ring Buckingham Palace, the Queen’s being usurped.’

  ‘Be quiet, Mr Tanner!’ the judge yelled.

  ‘What I’ve been told,’ Aitken said, ‘is that the document contains a confidentiality clause, and –’

  ‘So what?’ Tanner said. ‘This is a criminal trial.’

  ‘Let him finish.’

  ‘The parties to the deed can only disclose its contents if compelled to do so by law. That hasn’t happened if someone gave it to Mr Tanner, as he says.’

  ‘Richter is a party to the deed,’ Tanner said. ‘I think me asking him questions in a murder trial qualifies as being compelled under law.’

  ‘Mr Tanner –’

  ‘You’ve got a discretion, judge. We say none of this is relevant to –’

  ‘This is in the red-hot zone of relevant evidence, your Honour,’ Tanner said. ‘In the interests of justice, you are obliged to let it in.’

  ‘Judge, if I can –’

  ‘No, you can’t.’ Knight sat back in his chair and sighed. ‘Here’s what I’m going to do. It’s three forty. I’m going to send the jury home for the day. I’ll consider the photo overnight, and this issue. My inclination though, Mr Tanner, is that if you want to use this document, I’ll need evidence about how it came into your possession. I want to know whether you got it lawfully.’

  ‘This is an ambush, judge,’ Aitken said.

  ‘You should’ve told Richard you’d been given this document, Peter,’ Knight said. ‘Why didn’t you tell him you intended to use it?’

  Tanner stood, and motioned for Jane Ross to get up too. He walked to the door. ‘It didn’t suit me to do that, judge. That’s not really the key question though, is it? Why isn’t Richard prosecuting Mr Richter, that’s what I want to know? Why’s he leaving that for me to do?’

  50

  Tanner worked late in chambers after court. He refined his notes for finishing his cross-examination of Richter, and looked over the ones he’d made for his cross of Klaudia Dabrowska. He was getting ready to leave when his mobile rang. It was Maria, calling from his home.

  ‘Hi. I’ll be half an hour,’ he said when he answered.

  ‘The man is waiting here,’ Maria said after a short pause.

  He tried to think what she meant. ‘What man?’

  ‘The man. He said to me . . . he said to me you want to talk to him about your trial. He’s here, waiting.’

  She was making no sense. ‘Maria,’ he said, ‘what man are you talking about?’

  ‘He’s here.’

  ‘In the house?’

  ‘He said you told him to wait.’

  Tanner’s heart started to beat faster. ‘What’s his name, Maria?’

  ‘He . . . I don’t know – Steve? I put him on.’

  ‘Maria?’ he said again, but she no longer had the phone to her ear. He could hear her walking through the house, then heard him say his name.

  ‘Mr Tanner?’ a man said. It sounded like a smoker’s voice, deep and husky.

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘We have some mutual friends.’

  ‘What are you doing in my house?’

  ‘Maria let me in.’

  Tanner wanted to throw the phone against the wall. ‘I want you to leave,’ he said.

  ‘It will be better for our friends if you talk to me.’

  ‘You need to leave.’

  Another pause. ‘If you want to help your friend in China,’ the man said, ‘come home and talk.’

  As soon as he was in a cab, Tanner called Tom Cable.

  ‘I’m getting ready for bed, Pete,’ Cable said as he answered. ‘How’s the trial –’

  ‘Can you get to my house now?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you drive to my house now, Tom?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do it, please. It’s – Drive to my house now. Wait in your car. I’ll be home before you make it. Get the plates of whoever leaves. If I text you to come in, don’t walk.’

  • • •

  The man was sitting in Tanner’s study. He was in a chair opposite the desk, looking at the back cover of a novel he’d taken from one of the bookshelves. In his other hand was a glass of water.

  ‘Who are you?’ Tanner said after he shut the door. ‘Who sent you?’

  The man put the book on the desk, and looked up, his face expressionless. ‘Don’t raise your voice,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to wake your son. You can call me Steve.’

  ‘I’m going to ask you once more before I call the police. Who sent you?’

  ‘What will you tell them?’

  ‘That I have an intruder who won’t leave.’

  ‘Maria let me in. She gave me this glass of water.’ The man was in a blue suit, a white dress shirt, a white kerchief in his breast pocket. His legs were crossed. His shoes were black leather. They were handmade. He didn’t look like an intruder. ‘If I leave, you won’t hear what I have to say about our friends.’

  Tanner moved behind his desk, and sat in the chair. ‘I doubt we have any friends in common.’

  Steve raised his eyebrows and frowned slightly, nodding his head. ‘I thought Joe Cheung was a friend of yours?’

  Tanner’s heart rate was still elevated, and he was not yet sure what was happening, or what to do. ‘What do you want?’

  Steve smiled fractionally. ‘The same thing as you,’ he said. ‘I want what’s best for Joe.’

  ‘And what is best for Joe?’

  ‘I’ve worked in countries that have the death penalty,’ Steve said. ‘They tell me you can be executed for some corruption offences in China?’ He shook his head, looking almost sad. ‘They shoot you. Five years sounds better than that, don’t you think?’

  Tanner felt his stomach start to churn. ‘Are you threatening me? Who do you – ?’

  Steve started laughing: a low laugh, almost a snigger. ‘We’re not threatening you.’

  ‘Who’s “we”?’

  Steve shook his head slowly, a look of disapproval on his face. ‘We want what’s best for your other friend, too,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been to Sicily.’ He lowered his eyes to examine the nails of his right hand. ‘I’d like to, one day.’

  ‘What is it that you want?’

  Steve uncrossed his legs and leant forwards in his seat, then ran a hand over the stubble of his goatee beard. ‘My other friends would like you to – to exercise more discretion in court tomorrow.’

  Tanner shook his head and gave a forced smile. ‘More discretion?’

  ‘Asking questions about Felicity Horton – we don’t think that’s in the best interests of Joe and Gabriella. The misunderstanding John Richter had with this poor girl . . .’ He paused as though he was searching for the right words. ‘That was cleared up years ago. It’s best left in the past.’

  ‘I can’t just –’

  ‘You know, the late Mrs Richter – and I hate to speak ill of the dead – she really was trying to extort an innocent man out of a lot of money.’

  Tanner took two deep breaths before speaking. ‘The people who are instructing me know about the deed between Richter and Felicity Horton. So does my client. The judge knows it. I can’t not use it.’

  Steve shrugged, looked at his glass of water like he was examining evid
ence, then took another sip. ‘You can find a way of losing an argument about the deed, can’t you?’ He paused as though waiting for a response. ‘It’s only right to allow Mr Richter a fair chance to give his version of events, don’t you think? You want the truth, don’t you?’

  Tanner ran a hand across his face. ‘Or what?’

  ‘It will be better for Joe if that’s what happened. How old are his kids? Younger than your boy, aren’t they? Kids need a father.’ He paused. ‘I guess they need mothers too.’ His smile almost looked real. ‘That’s a nice-looking woman you’ve been seeing. The lawyer some of my friends don’t like very much? How tall is she?’

  Tanner closed his eyes for a moment, trying to will the man away. ‘Get out,’ he said when he opened them. ‘Now.’

  Steve nodded slowly, and rose. He put his glass of water on the desk. ‘Make a smart choice,’ he said, walking to the door. ‘And thank Maria for the water, will you?’

  As soon as the door closed, Tanner rang Lisa Ilves. She answered on the fifth ring.

  ‘I’m brushing my teeth.’

  ‘You’ve got a number for Gaby Campbell?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Call her now. Tell her she needs to get out of Taormina for a few days. Whatever the time is there, she needs to take a break right away.’

  ‘Pete, what are you – ?’

  ‘Just do it, Lisa,’ he said.

  ‘What’s happened? You’re not making any sense. I can’t just –’

  ‘Listen to me,’ he said sharply. ‘They are unhappy with her. Do you understand that? Maybe as unhappy with her as they were with Anne Warren. Just do what I ask. Tell her to leave.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ she said, fear in her voice.

  He took a breath, and focused on calming himself. ‘When you’re done, come around here, okay? Stay here tonight.’

  As he ended the call, there was a knock on the door. He ran to the hallway. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Me.’

  Cable’s hair was sticking up, like he’d just got out of bed. ‘What’s going on?’ he said as Tanner let him in. ‘Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a –’

  ‘I need you to take Dan to school in the morning,’ Tanner said. ‘And I need you there to pick him up when he’s done.’

  51

  The following morning, Tony Kerr took a seat at a café near the office tower where he worked. It was just after nine. He had a gift box with him, which he put on the table.

  The man he was waiting for, with whom he’d had one prior meeting where a small package was exchanged, joined him five minutes later. This time he was carrying a larger package, wrapped in red paper. When their coffees came, they drank them quickly. The men talked only about the weekend sport while they sat together, the business part of their meeting having taken place at an earlier time. The weather was warm for October, but the man with the red package, who did not remove his hat or sunglasses, was wearing gloves.

  He left first, taking Kerr’s box from the table when he did. Kerr left not long after with the red package, only remembering to pay the bill when he was almost out the door. He returned to Citadel and went straight to his office. He opened his cupboard, then the safe that was in it, and placed the package inside.

  Fifteen minutes later, his phone rang. The receptionist asked him to come to the front desk immediately, as Mr Randall needed to speak to him. Randall was his boss, the general counsel of Citadel Australia.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mr Randall is here. He wants you to come now.’

  Kerr had a tight feeling in his gut. He wondered why Randall hadn’t called him, or come to his office. Then he reached reception, and saw five men in suits with Randall, one of whom was carrying a video camera. He knew right away they were cops. He approached the group, but didn’t speak.

  ‘Are you Anthony Kerr?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My name is Detective Sergeant Woods, from the State Crime Command of the New South Wales Police Force drug squad. As a result of information provided by a confidential informant, we have reason to believe that you have in your possession a quantity of illegal narcotics, and that they’re kept in these offices. We also have reason to believe you’ve been selling narcotics that you keep at these offices. We’ve just provided Mr Randall with a search warrant, which authorises us to search your office, including the contents of your computer. I should warn you that . . .’

  The cop said more words, but Kerr didn’t take them in. While the detective talked, Kerr rushed behind the reception desk, fumbled for the waste bin, and vomited.

  When they reached Kerr’s office, the detective directed him to enter his password into the computer, then turned the computer over to a cop who was an IT expert. Meanwhile, another officer had opened the cupboard and found the safe.

  ‘Is this yours, sir?’

  Kerr stood in the middle of the room, pale and clammy, his hands shaking.

  ‘The company doesn’t supply safes,’ Randall said. He was standing in the doorway.

  ‘It’s empty,’ Kerr said.

  ‘Please open the safe, sir.’

  ‘I’ve never used it . . . I’m – I have no idea what the code is.’

  ‘Sir, open the safe now. If you don’t, we’ll have someone force it open, and we’ll charge you with hindering police in an investigation.’

  ‘Open the fucking safe, Tony,’ Randall said.

  Kerr’s hand shook so much it took him three attempts to enter the correct code. When he did, he ran back to his desk. This time he vomited in his own waste bin.

  52

  A short time later, Justice Philip Knight was handing down a ruling in which he held that the defence could use the blown-up photo of Nikki Richter from Sally Cook’s files.

  While Knight was reading out his reasons to the court, Tanner felt one of the two phones he had in his pockets vibrate. He put the phone under the bar table, and looked at the message, which was from an unknown number. Went mining. Minerals found.

  ‘You followed all that, Mr Tanner?’ the judge said as he put away his phone.

  ‘If it please the court.’

  ‘Are we ready for the jury?’

  ‘Not yet, your Honour.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m waiting on an affidavit concerning the matter discussed in your Honour’s chambers yesterday afternoon. I don’t expect it to take long.’

  ‘That should have been done last night, Mr Tanner.’

  ‘Everyone on my side of the bar table is pulling their weight, your Honour. I’m asking for an hour at most.’

  The judge shook his head. ‘Mr Aitken?’

  ‘I’d need some time to consider any affidavit when we have it, your Honour.’

  The judge sighed heavily. ‘I want that affidavit served within the half-hour, Mr Tanner. You can have fifteen minutes to consider it, Mr Crown. Don’t tell me you didn’t prepare an argument last night about admissibility. I’ll adjourn for forty-five minutes. I’m not holding up a jury trial for any longer.’

  When the judge left the bench, Jane Ross grabbed Tanner by the arm. ‘We have the affidavit, Pete,’ she said. ‘What – ?’

  ‘Get Porter to swear another copy with today’s date,’ he said.

  ‘Pete?’

  He stood. ‘I need time to sort out my argument, Jane,’ he said firmly. ‘I want to be left alone in our room.’

  Once in the defence room, Tanner responded to the text he’d received in court. Time is of the essence for me.

  Within a minute he received a reply: Looking.

  Twenty minutes later, another came through. Found.

  Tanner walked to the prosecution room and knocked on the door. When it was opened he threw the affidavit towards Aitken, who was seated at the far end. ‘I’ll tell the associate,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in court in fifteen minutes.’

  • • •

  When court resumed, Tanner handed up an affidavit sworn by Charles Porter. It recounted a conversation he’d
had with lead counsel for the accused, Peter Tanner, on the previous Friday evening, when Tanner had informed him of the details of his meeting with Trevor Horton. Annexed to the affidavit was a copy of the deed. Also handed up was a short submission admitting that Horton was in breach of the confidentiality obligations in the deed, but that the court should allow the document to be admitted into evidence anyway.

  Aitken handed up a submission seeking to have the document excluded from evidence on the grounds it had been unlawfully provided to the defence, and was insufficiently relevant to the primary issue before the court concerning the guilt or otherwise of Justin Matheson.

  The judge adjourned to consider a ruling, but it took him only thirty minutes. Trevor Horton was in breach of the deed’s obligations of confidentiality, but that was neither a crime, nor unlawfulness of any great magnitude. The potential relevance of the deed outweighed the desirability of ensuring that what in effect was a private contract was not breached. The defence could use the document to question the witness.

  When the jury came back, Tanner deferred taking up the judge’s ruling to use the photo; he wanted it to be the last image they saw when he was done with Richter. He went to the deed first.

  ‘Mr Richter, yesterday I asked you if anyone else had made an allegation of violence against you other than your late wife. There was an objection before you could answer. Do you recall that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’ve now heard the judge’s ruling that you have to answer that question?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your late wife wasn’t the first person to allege you’d hurt them, was she?’

  Richter paused for longer than normal. ‘No,’ he finally said.

  ‘Who was Felicity Horton?’

  Another long pause, as though Richter was waiting for someone to save him. ‘That whole thing was a setup.’

  Tanner shook his head. ‘I asked you who she was, Mr Richter. She was your girlfriend?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you ever go on a date with her?’

  ‘We went to a couple of parties together. It was more like giving her a lift.’

  ‘She made an allegation that you caused her some form of physical harm, didn’t she?’