THE BROTHERHOOD

by Steve Jovanoski

  ‘The Americans spent millions of dollars inventing a pen that’ll work in space and the Russians just used pencils. Can you believe that, mate?’ The man shook his head.

  ‘Yeah, that’s amazing,’ Aazim muttered, making his lack of interest clear, but the man would not be deterred.

  ‘Hey, what brings you here alone? Are you waiting for a lady friend?’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Aazim said.

  The couple had finished up and Aazim moved in to get the table. Sitting down, he waited anxiously, looking around and taking note of people’s faces. Bill had told him to look for a short stocky man wearing a brown sports jacket and light cream pants. After a few minutes, Aazim noticed a man of that description enter the building and make his way up to the restaurant floor. He peered behind him for any bearded goons following, but none appeared. Aside from a few cabbies scouting for clients the streets were empty. The man in the sports jacket entered the restaurant, where he waited to be seated. When a waiter approached he pointed in Aazim’s direction; Aazim’s nerves flared again as the man headed his way. Suddenly the man stopped short and greeted a female companion sitting a couple of tables away.

  ‘A pretty good choice of location,’ a voice said from behind him. Aazim swung around and looked at the smiling face of the barfly.

  ‘Hi, I’m Bill. Sorry, forgot my brown jacket was at the drycleaners and I don’t actually own cream pants. Oh, and I’m not really stocky.’

  ‘You’re Bill? Why didn’t you say something at the bar?’

  ‘I like to know what kind of a person I’m dealing with, and you’re a man of patience, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘How did you know it was me?’

  Bill grabbed his beer and sat down. ‘You’re alone and constantly looking around and out the window. It wasn’t hard to work out.’

  ‘I didn’t realise I was that obvious.’

  Bill smiled. ‘You are to someone looking for you.’

  Moving closer to Bill, Aazim discreetly put his hand in his pocket and drew out the stun gun. He switched it on and shoved it into Bill’s kidney area. ‘Keep your hands on the table,’ he ordered.

  Bill was startled and looked down at the object jabbing his side.

  ‘I know you’re not from the Department of Foreign Affairs,’ Aazim said. ‘It’s not hard to work out. You’re a private investigator and I bet Sam sent you.’

  ‘Where did you get that idea from?’ Bill asked.

  ‘I found your details in the White Pages.’

  ‘But that could be another Bill McKane.’

  ‘Stop the games,’ Aazim snapped and shoved the stun gun deeper. ‘What did he send you here for?’

  Bill sighed. ‘Clever move, I’ll give you that. Sam is my client but he didn’t send me here. I came by myself.’

  ‘And you made up a story about my father just to have a meeting with me?’

  ‘Relax, Aazim, and put that thing down. I mean you no harm. I figured he was travelling and that’s why I used that ruse to get you here, to hear your side of the story.’

  ‘And how did you know he was travelling?’ Aazim asked, getting more and more suspicious.

  ‘Well …’ Clearing his throat, Bill ventured, ‘I was at your apartment when your phone rang. Your father left a message on your answering machine.’

  Caught off guard, Aazim was momentarily lost for words. Frustrated and helpless, now his life was being invaded by all sorts of strangers. ‘What were you doing in my apartment?’ he stammered. ‘What gives you people the right to break into my home? You murderers, you make me sick!’

  ‘Murderers? Wait a minute, what’s this about murderers?’ Bill looked at him, surprised.

  ‘Look, I’m not stupid. You know very well what I’m talking about.’

  ‘No, actually I don’t. Now lower your voice and calm down,’ Bill said firmly.

  ‘What’s he hired you for?’

  ‘I was asked to make an exchange with you for that data you swiped. I was told you want a million dollars to return it. I don’t know anything about any murders.’

  ‘That’s rubbish. I didn’t ask for any money and Sam is a liar.’ Aazim settled down and rubbed his eyes. Things were just getting more and more bewildering.

  ‘What’s on those databases, Aazim?’

  Aazim sighed. ‘I have proof that Aust Global Fund is involved in money laundering. Hundreds and possibly thousands of companies could be involved worldwide. I suppose he didn’t tell you that either.’

  Bill didn’t register the sarcasm. ‘Why haven’t you reported it to the police?’

  ‘Not before I make sure my father is safe.’

  ‘What’s this about murders?’

  ‘You tell me, you were at my apartment. My dead neighbour is sprawled on my bedroom floor and two employees from Aust Global Fund are missing.’

  ‘I didn’t see any dead bodies in your apartment,’ Bill said, frowning.

  Aazim gasped in astonishment. ‘What do you mean? The place was trashed!’

  ‘It was spotless, Aazim. I saw no signs of violence or dead bodies.’

  ‘You think I’d lie about something like that? It was them. They must’ve come back and covered it up. I’m telling you the truth. They strangled my neighbour and turned the whole place upside down. They even took my computer.’

  ‘Okay, calm down. Were there any witnesses, or someone in the building who may have heard something?’ It sounded a little far-fetched to Bill but he remembered the fresh paint on the apartment door and the meticulous neatness inside.

  ‘Why don’t you ask Sam about it, he was the one who sent them. My trusted friend Rami was there. The bastard works for him too.’

  ‘I’d like to see the data you have, Aazim,’ Bill said steadily.

  ‘I bet you would. After all, you’ve been hired by Sam.’

  ‘You’re making pretty serious allegations, mate, and I don’t think you know what you’re doing. I know you can’t trust anyone right now but if what you say is true then you’re going to need someone’s help. And I can help you.’

  ‘I don’t need anyone’s help, especially from someone hired by the guy who wants me dead.’

  ‘I was hired to do a job I wasn’t really informed about. I don’t work for your boss. If you can convince me that you’re telling the truth I’ll try to help you.’

  Aazim eased back and deliberated for a moment. ‘What’s this about a message from my father?’

  ‘He said he’s fine and that he had some problem with his mobile phone. Oh, and he left a phone number where you could reach him,’ Bill added.

  ‘A number? Give it to me.’

  Bill gave him the number and then said, ‘Think carefully about what you’re about to do next, Aazim. And whatever you decide, make sure you do it soon.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ Aazim took out his mobile and dialled the number, waiting impatiently for the international call to connect.

  ‘Hello?’ A distant voice answered in a noisy background.

  ‘Dad? It’s Aazim. Dad, can you hear me?’ Tears welled up in Aazim’s eyes. He wished he could give his father a hug and tell him everything that had happened but he didn’t have the heart to do it. After all, Ilias was on the other side of the hemisphere and dumping his problems on him wouldn’t do either of them any good. His father would take the next flight home and probably put himself in further danger. Instead, he listened to Ilias talk excitedly about how much things had changed in Lebanon, and about the sights he planned to visit. Aazim was glad to hear he was on the move; he would be harder to catch.

  Aazim was mindful of not using his mobile for too long. ‘Dad, I have to go.’ Then he passed on a subtle warning without alarming him. ‘Aba, please be careful and watch your back.’

  ‘Don’t worry, son, I always do.’

  ‘Don’t trust anyone,’ Aazim added nervously.

  ‘Oh, I don’t. Taxi drivers are the worst here, you have to make sure the meter’s switched on as soon as you
get in or they’ll rip you off. Just because I’m a tourist they think I’m made of money.’

  ‘Okay, Dad, be careful and stay safe.’

  ‘I will, son. Say hello to Mrs Sparrow and I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll tell her.’ Poor Mrs Sparrow. Aazim wondered what they’d done with the body.

  He allowed himself to relax and put the stun gun away, but he had it with him just in case. He decided to give Bill a chance. For some reason the man’s presence made him feel comfortable. There was something sincere about him. He looked like an easy-going guy with lines on his face that told a story of their own.

  ‘Before you see what I’m about to show you,’ he said to Bill, ‘I need you to know that I’m not in this for the money. I got myself into it by accident. People have been hurt and I want to make sure it goes in the right hands.’ Aazim looked at Bill and waited for a response.

  ‘Okay, let’s see what you have and we’ll take it from there.’

  Bill had been observing Aazim from the moment he arrived: body language, mannerisms, the nervous handshake, and most importantly his eyes. Aazim most definitely didn’t fit the profile of a criminal. In fact, he looked desperate and lost.

  Aazim opened his bag and reached for the laptop. Placing it on the table, he faced it towards Bill and away from onlookers, punching the keys while explaining how the Oracle application worked, how it was used for accounting, money transactions and business-to-business operations. He opened up a few accounts and gave him examples of clients Aust Global Fund did business with. Clearly, money laundering was not Bill’s field of work, but Aazim explained it as a three-stage process. First was the ‘arrangement’, referring to the initial gathering of funds collected from illegal activities that were put into a financial system. Second was ‘layering’, the process of covering up the trail of entry and exit when money went from one financial institution to another, and a number of transactions could be made internationally, continually being moved around to avoid detection. Finally the funds were fully integrated into the mainstream financial system; this process was called ‘integration’. By then the money was fully legitimised and could be used without threat of detection.

  Bill admitted there was no doubting the evidence: the number of transactions made by some sources was vast and cleverly disguised to avoid leaving any trails. Only a person with an eye for detail could uncover the extent of the crime. Bill was impressed; no wonder someone was trying to knock Aazim off. They had only looked at a handful of accounts and there were gigabytes of data to sift through.

  A well-known offshore tax haven close to Australia was the island nation of Nauru. With a population of just over thirteen thousand, the country had over four hundred registered banks. Phosphate had been their main export, and they’d mined it until there was nothing left. Its government, desperate to find other sources of income, turned a blind eye to criminal elements such as the Russian mafia, who in turn used their financial institutions for money laundering. Sure enough, there were a number of accounts linked to various banks in Nauru.

  Bill noticed something familiar about certain business names but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. ‘Aazim, can you tell me more about your company?’

  ‘I don’t know specifics about the business. I guess the company deals with normal stuff involved in finances, like accounting, investments, trust funds, borrowings and that sort of thing.’

  ‘What about the owners? Do you know anything about them?’

  ‘It’s overseen by partners and some are based locally, in Australia. Not sure how many of them exactly. I’ve been told there’s one Arab businessman who’s also a partner.’

  ‘Can you tell me anything else, something about the employees or what you learned while you worked there?’

  ‘Kareem and Sam are the two I had the most contact with. I haven’t really worked there for long enough to get to know people that well. Kareem kept to himself and I know Sam mostly from our meetings at the mosque. I’m sure Sam killed Kareem too.’

  ‘Mosque? What’s the name of the mosque? Tell me everything from the start, Aazim. How you met Sam, where you met, what you did there and anything you can think of.’ Bill took out a pad and began taking notes.

  Aazim breathed out and reflected on his experience. ‘Rami was the one who introduced me to Sam at Masjid Saad Mosque.’ He explained how Rami had told him of the job available at Aust Global Fund, and he described the mosque visits and debates in private back rooms, the meetings with mysterious characters and the close encounter with the bearded pursuers.

  ‘What do you make of all this?’ Bill asked. ‘Why do they want you to be a part of it?’

  ‘I have no idea. The only thing I have to offer is my skill as a technician.’

  ‘You mentioned that your friend Rami betrayed you. Why would he do that?’

  ‘That fat pig is a member of their group or something. He’s one of them.’

  ‘What group?’

  ‘He said it was a Muslim humanitarian organisation. He and Sam are part of The Brotherhood for Justice or something.’

  The name immediately registered. Bill raised his eyebrows and stopped writing. He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. ‘Are you sure that’s what he said?’ He realised now why some of the business names were familiar.

  ‘Yes. He told me how much good they apparently do. Their members have good professions. Perhaps that’s why they wanted me to be part of it, I don’t know. Why do you ask, have you heard of them?’

  Bill nodded like a person remembering a past experience. He leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. ‘Aazim, these guys you’re talking about are not just fundraisers for the poor and disadvantaged. They’re known to have terrorist links worldwide. The US has them blacklisted, the UK has locked up three members and a cell was discovered in Italy a few years ago. They deny all illegal activity and they own legal businesses like Aust Global Fund. Their operations are underground and membership is kept extremely secretive. Law enforcement agencies have had no success in shutting them down because they’re so well organised. Say a Brotherhood operative is caught – that leads to the arrest of a messenger at the most. Once a member’s captured the cell’s dismantled and re-established somewhere else.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Aazim’s face turned white. ‘You mean these guys are al-Qaeda or something?’

  ‘No, not quite, but close. Among legitimate businesses and charity work, they raise money for groups involved in terrorist activities. Participation in conflict is always by proxy. In Afghanistan they funded the mujahideen during the Soviet invasion and now the Taliban. We suspected a cell in Australia and we could never track down leads. They’re phantoms.’

  ‘Shit! Bloody hell Bill, I just want this to be over and go home. I want nothing to do with it or any terrorists.’ Aazim was shaken from the revelation.

  ‘We could report it to AUSTRAC,’ Bill contemplated. ‘It’s a government agency that keeps an eye on organised crime. The problem is, we don’t know if they’ll go straight to the federal police or ASIO, and from what you’ve told me ASIO might have informants working for them. We have to be careful how we handle it. I have a friend in the agency who may be able to help. Where are you staying?’

  ‘At a motel a few kilometres out of the city. What agency does your friend work for?’

  ‘ASIO. I used to work there myself.’

  ‘You were a spy? That’s just great. Anything else I should know about?’ Aazim said sarcastically. His predicament was taking twists and turns he could no longer fathom.

  ‘Not from me. Don’t use credit cards because they can be tracked. Stick it out for now and I’ll work something out for you later. I’ll need to run a check on those accounts. It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with this kind of stuff but some of the business names you’ve shown me are familiar. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re using Melbourne as a major money-siphoning hub. Have you made copies of this?’ Bill asked, mea
ning the data.

  ‘I have another copy back at the motel.’ Aazim wasn’t sure if he should have kept that to himself, just in case.

  ‘Good. Do you have a printout of the account names? I’ll take it with me and run a few checks.’

  ‘No, but you can take the laptop. I have another copy on a flash disk.’ Aazim looked dazed. He felt like he was in some horrible nightmare. It was so surreal and he was still trying to grasp the enormity of what Bill had told him.

  ‘Listen, mate, it’s going to be all right. You’ve done the right thing getting this information. A lot of lives will be saved if we get these guys, but keep in mind they’re a nasty bunch and will stop at nothing to protect their secret. They’ll kill for it – as you’ve already seen.’ Bill was trying to reassure the clearly shaken young man but Aazim didn’t find his words comforting.

  A waiter came to serve them, but neither felt like eating so they just ordered a couple of beers, Aazim putting his religious beliefs about alcohol aside. Both men needed a break and some time to digest what they’d learned from each other. One round of beers went to a second and then a third. Going over the data several times was imperative. There could be no doubt of the evidence confirming illegal activities, but as the alcohol took hold, keeping focused became tougher. Eventually Bill lightened the mood of the conversation.

  ‘Tell me about yourself, Aazim. Do you have a girlfriend or someone special in your life?’

  Aazim welcomed the change of topic and moved the laptop aside. ‘Nope. I’ve been preoccupied with work and I haven’t been in a social mood for some time.’

  ‘I wish I was at your age, with this mind though,’ Bill said, pointing at his head and smiling wistfully.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Let’s just say I miss being young. Opportunities are far less frequent as you get older and you just become less tolerant.’ Bill’s smile faded and he skolled his beer.

  ‘A bad relationship?’ Aazim asked tentatively.

  ‘You could say that,’ Bill replied. His mind wandered to his ex-wife. ‘I’m no angel myself and with my job it was never going to work.’