No Witness, No Case

by Bill Robertson

  ‘No, but listen, I don’t need those two. Last time they were here they stood out like country dunnies. If Santini is tuned in, he won’t miss them.’

  ‘Righto ate, I’ll leave it to you.’

  Fox settled back in his camp chair. His bug revealed that Santini was now watching the Sunday night movie. At 10:45 p.m., Santini’s light went out. Fox settled himself for sleep and set his watch for 4:30 a.m.; he wouldn’t need it, just a precaution. He didn’t want to miss Santini leaving for work.

  Chapter

  THIRTEEN

  At 9:45 a.m. Monday, June 1, Andy Drummond parked at AWD in Brooklyn. A bright yellow sign pointed the way from the car park to the Reception Office. Carrying a copy of the employment section from The Age on Saturday, he walked to reception. Entering, he found himself in a foyer with several comfortable seats and a large counter running across its width. A sign on the counter declared: Ring for Assistance. Drummond pressed the buzzer and waited.

  A door behind the counter opened and a woman in her fifties appeared.

  ‘Good morning. Can I help you?’ She was neatly dressed, hair in a bun and bespectacled, her face was motherly, her manner friendly.

  ‘Yes,’ Drummond smiled. ‘I’ve come about the ad. for a tanker driver.’ He brandished the paper.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  ‘Well no, I assumed from the way the ad. reads it was just a case of coming in.’

  ‘That should be alright dear. Mr Santini’s put mornings aside all week and has just finished with someone. He shouldn’t be long. Help yourself to coffee or tea. What’s your name?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Drummond smiled. ‘Andy Drummond.’

  She nodded and disappeared through the door.

  Drummond had given a lot of thought to this meeting and while he didn’t know Santini, or his role in the company, he had decided to trust no one. Intuitively he also felt it would not be helpful to mention the location of his farm or the truck fire but remained uncertain about that. He was still mulling this over when the receptionist reappeared and beckoned him.

  ‘Mr Santini will see you now dear.’

  ‘Right thanks. Anything I should know about Mr Santini that will help present my best side?’

  She smiled gently. ‘You’ll find him very quiet and pleasant. He’s a good listener and very fair. Just tell him why you want the job and what your qualifications are. I’m sure you’ll be alright.’

  She led him down a corridor. To the right, behind a glass half-wall, lay an open office in which twenty or so people worked. The place looked professional, well organised and superbly equipped.

  The woman paused before a door near the end of the corridor, knocked briefly then ushered Drummond into the office. ‘Mr Santini, this is Andy Drummond, he has come for a job interview in response to Saturday’s advertisement.’

  Drummond saw a smallish man in his mid to late fifties rise from behind a well polished wooden desk. He was neatly and fashionably dressed and peered at Drummond with shrewd, unwavering, deep brown eyes. Drummond’s impression was that Santini appeared coiled, like a spring – full of latent energy.

  Stepping away from the desk Santini offered his hand. Drummond noted it was hard and dry and the grip strong.

  ‘Take a seat please Andy.’ He spoke quietly in measured tones and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. ‘What made you apply for this job with Aldrittson’s?’

  ‘I’ve got a few shares in the firm, so I know that financially it’s a good company. And recently, I read an article in the Financial Review that was pretty positive about the management here, you know, caring, good pay, bonuses and all that. Apart from that, I’ve met some of your drivers over time and they spoke well of the place. Lastly, I made some enquiries and found that jobs for drivers here are few and far between. That says a lot about the joint.’

  Santini had not taken his eyes from Drummond’s face. He listened impassively. ‘So you’ve done your homework then. What qualifications do you have?’

  ‘Four wheel driving, light commercial trucks, heavy vehicles and articulated vehicles. I can handle bull dozers and I’m a qualified fork lift driver. I spent a long time in the army and got my qualifications there. I brought copies if you want to see them.’

  Santini waved his hand dismissively. ‘Not yet. I’m interested in why you want to come and work for Aldrittson’s. You haven’t told me that yet. Where do you work now? Why do you want to leave that for here?’

  Santini was no one’s fool – he had gone for the jugular. Behind the impassive face Drummond saw watchfulness and caution. Santini and bullshit were mutually exclusive. He decided to tell part of the truth. ‘My wife Sue died of ovarian cancer three years ago. Since then I’ve been lost.’ Santini’s caution prompted Andy to test the waters. He continued. ‘I’ve got a small property at Heathcote which we started together about eight years ago but, since her death, I can’t seem to settle or stop thinking about her. Being a driver would take me all over the place, put me in touch with lots of different people, keep me busy and help reduce some of my thinking time.’

  With the exception of wanting to be a driver, all of what he had said was true. He didn’t add that he and Sue had received a bumper start from winning a half share in a seven million dollar lottery first prize six years earlier. Back then, he still had a year of his term to serve in the army and Sue was teaching. They were happy and satisfied with what they did and saw no reason for Drummond to finish his career prematurely. They invested wisely and began planning for life outside the army.

  At the mention of Heathcote, Santini’s eyes hooded slightly. Drummond knew then exactly how to proceed. He continued, ‘As a matter of fact, I went to a truck fire near my place recently. I don’t know whose truck it was and the local coppers don’t know much either. It provided a bit of excitement for a couple of days. Yeah, strange it was. Seemed to be no reason for the fire. Driver got incinerated … charred to a twist. Horrible! As far as I know, the coppers still haven’t identified the truck owner or the driver. Hell of a way to die.’

  ‘Yes, it sounds terrible,’ said Santini smoothly. ‘I suppose it’s one of the hazards of long distance driving. Now, perhaps I could see your driving authorities.’

  Drummond passed his certificates to Santini and watched as he checked them carefully.

  Santini looked up, a mild expression on his face. ‘Mr Drummond, I’m sorry, we may have wasted your time. You have very good credentials but I’d like to see a few more people yet. Thank you for coming in. I’ll be in touch.’ Although obviously lying, Santini was courteous yet cool. He remained seated and didn’t offer to shake hands again. ‘I’ll have Mary show you out.’ Hardly had he finished speaking when she reappeared, a look of surprise on her face.

  ‘Yes Mr Santini?’

  ‘Mary, show Mr Drummond the way out please.’

  Her eyebrows rose slightly as she said, ‘Of course, come this way Andy.’ She closed the door and escorted Drummond back to the foyer. ‘Well, that was quick. He’s been taking thirty to forty minutes. Did you say something wrong?’

  He grinned at the suggestion. ‘I don’t think so Mary. Perhaps I didn’t have the qualifications he was looking for. By the way, has the job been filled yet?’

  ‘No, not yet. Two drivers have been interviewed this morning and there’s another scheduled for 11 a.m.’ She was silent for a moment then continued, ‘the reason I asked if you’d said something wrong is that you were in and out so fast. That was unusual. He’s a hard man to upset.’

  ‘No, I can’t think of a thing I said wrong. I’ll just have to look elsewhere. Thanks Mary, nice meeting you.’

  At 5:00 p.m. Drummond rang Maud and told him of his meeting with Santini. The response was immediate and fiery.

  ‘Andy, you are pissing me off! I told you not to get up to mischief and you go on the bloody offensive. If the shit hits the fan it’s my neck on the friggin’ chopping block.’ He sounded truly offended.

 
‘Don’t worry, it’s okay. I promise you Tony – no damage done. Santini wanted me out of there quick smart and I am keeping you informed. It’s just that there are all these bloody questions about this fire and no answers. I simply wanted to see if I could push a couple of buttons to provoke a response. I got one. He didn’t want to know me.’

  Tony calmed down. ‘Alright, alright. Do you think Santini is involved in what ever’s going on?’ He sounded doubtful.

  ‘I am. Well, I think so Tony.’ He almost sounded confident. ‘As soon as I said I was from Heathcote the shutters fell. He remained polite and courteous but the room temperature dropped ten degrees. He just seemed to withdraw and suddenly, the interview was over. Then, ever so nicely, he threw me out. I won’t be hearing from him again.’

  Maud accepted that. ‘Okay mate. But so far, Aldrittson’s have been nothing but helpful. Once they established it was their truck and their man, they bent over backwards to help. I’d say they want this cleared up as much as we do. I was told they arranged the funeral and have already handsomely compensated the driver’s widow and family.’

  ‘Sorry to be cynical Tony, but that sounds like a pay-off to me. I think their actions are designed to throw us off the scent.’ Drummond sounded thoughtful. ‘I mean, usually, people hiding things are obstructive or defensive and want to make life difficult. If Aldrittson’s are using distraction as reverse psychology they’re probably hoping you’ll quickly disappear without looking too deeply.’

  Maud pondered the idea. ‘I’ve mainly been dealing with the boss, Jack Aldrittson. I may have spoken to this Santini bloke a couple of times, can’t be sure. He was quiet and polite. He certainly didn’t cause any trouble or create the impression of being anxious. But I have to say, when Aldrittson told me about the payout to Browne’s wife, $300,000 and he’s not even cold yet, I did wonder.’

  ‘You just reminded me,’ said Drummond, ‘I told Santini the police didn’t know who the driver was or where the truck came from. He never said a word to correct me. If they have nothing to hide you’d think he would have said something. Look, I’ve got no real reason for saying this but my impression is that Santini knows something. I could be wrong, but gut instinct tells me differently. Where does he live?’

  ‘Why? Have you got rocks in your bloody head or something?’ Maud was annoyed again. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Calm down, I’m not stupid. I just thought I could drive by to see what sort of place he has and how he’s set up. Call it intelligence. I won’t go snooping around his house or anything like that and I will keep you posted.’

  ‘Okay, I’ve got a couple of favours to call in. I’ll see what I can find out. I can’t say when I’ll get back to you I’m on call tonight; one of the lads here is sick and I’m covering the late shift.’

  Drummond smiled to himself as he hung up, confident he would be checking on Santini later. Tony Maud was a good copper and would come up with the address.

  Chapter

  FOURTEEN

  As soon as Mary Edwards closed the door, Santini lifted the phone.

  ‘Pronto,’ said Pescaro.

  ‘Don Pescaro, I’ve just had a man here wanting Browne’s job as driver. Said he was Andy Drummond from Heathcote. He seems to know all about the truck fire. Said he was ex-army but he gives me a bad feeling. He looks and smells like a copper. Oh, and on that, how’s the dossier on the local copper going?’

  ‘Slowly Nardo, but building.’ Pescaro’s tone was thoughtful.

  ‘I think it would be a good idea to have our man check out this Drummond,’ suggested Santini.

  ‘I agree,’ Pescaro responded, ‘Leave it to me.’

  Pescaro was not unduly worried by this turn of events, it was to be expected, but he was annoyed. He had pushed Jack Aldrittson and through him, Ben. Jack’s reaction at their recent dinner had surprised him.

  Over the years he had seen plenty of Jack’s meanness and toughness. By his standard they were not the high tensile qualities born of personal combat or loss. He had thought Aldrittson was tougher. He was a bully who paid others to do his dirty work and all his life he had been insulated by money. First Old Tom’s and then his own. Yes, he was a spoilt bully with no real guts.

  Ben Aldrittson though was different. After observing him in public and private life, Pescaro concluded he was resilient, engaged his enemies directly and didn’t mind occasional losses for the strategic advantage of some grander plan. He was highly intelligent and rat cunning. Despite attributes which, in most crooks would be regarded as assets, Pescaro had little respect for the younger Aldrittson. He grudgingly conceded however that Ben was probably more formidable than his father. With Santini’s intuition about Ben on high alert, it was important to keep pressure on Jack to bring the younger man to heel. Timing was everything and what Pescaro wanted now was compliance without bloodshed.

  He wondered if Drummond and Ben Aldrittson were somehow connected. After his conversation with Nardo, it wouldn’t surprise him to find that Drummond’s visit was arranged by the politician. Ben would want to retaliate that was a given. It may well have been this mood in Ben that Nardo had tuned into.

  He rang a number at Tooborac. A voice answered faintly, barely audible over the noise of machinery.

  ‘Mario, this is Don Pescaro. I want to talk to you.’ Pescaro heard the machinery begin to fade.

  ‘Sorry Don Pescaro. I’m in the yard cutting wood. Go ahead.’ Mario Embone was attentive. He was one of Pescaro’s legion. Arriving in Australia thirty-five years before, he had established himself as a wood cutter at Tooborac in Central Victoria. He collected from the Heathcote State Forest and farmers who wanted fallen trees removed. Known throughout the district, he was a reliable and industrious man with a tight mouth. People in the area liked him.

  ‘Mario, what’s that copper Maud up to?’ Embone’s task had been to provide reports on local activity since the truck fire.

  ‘Nothing new Don Pescaro. I’ve talked to ‘im a few times at Gaffney’s Bakery. ‘E likes nattering with da counter ladies. ‘E’s not let anything slip about da fire we don’t know already.’

  ‘Do you know a man called Andy Drummond?’ queried Pescaro.

  ‘Sure, ‘e’s gotta small farm near da truck fire. I wouldda like his big, fat ironbarks.’

  ‘Does he know Maud?’

  ‘Don Pescaro, everybody knows Maud. Apart from being da local copper, ‘e does stuff with kids – you know, cricket, football, tennis and bike safety – ‘e sees da schools regular. ‘E’s on da Progress Association and pushed for the Bendigo Bank ‘ere. ‘E’s as big as a house and good with trouble – thinks before ‘e acts. A betta question is: who doesn’t know Tony Maud around ‘ere?’

  Pescaro’s lip curled at Embone’s description of the country cop. He didn’t sound much of a threat. Nevertheless … better to take nothing for granted.

  ‘Is he particularly friendly with Drummond, Mario? Do you know that?’

  ‘No Don Pescaro, I don’t. Is important?’

  ‘Mario, if I ask a question the answer is always important.’ His tone cut like a cleaver. ‘Ring me when you have something concrete.’

  Monday afternoon the Lower House was noisy and fractious. Ben Aldrittson was presenting Jakob Kindler’s Hart Lite concept. The Member for Melbourne Ports, Simon Candy, was giving Aldrittson a hard time. Candy, still fuming over the government’s refusal to use the Victorian firm, Scintilla, for a major project constantly interjected.

  ‘Mr Speaker,’ roared Aldrittson, straining above the din. ‘The Honourable Member is obviously deaf. I agree with the need to monitor the environment. I agree with the urgency to tackle green house effects and reduce carbon emissions. That is why we must take a serious look at this solar energy scheme. My colleague Mr Baker, Minister for Environment, shares my view. We have a golden opportunity to lead the nation and develop a huge global export market using Australian know how and Victorian labour. Furthermore, we could use this opportunity to esta
blish a carbon trading scheme.’

  ‘Who will you shaft this time Aldrittson?’ interjected Candy. You’ve always got an angle. You’re as slippery as the Premier’s election date.’ The Opposition howled with derision and the speaker thumped his gavel.

  Unflustered, Aldrittson resumed. ‘I seek your indulgence Mr Speaker because I would like to touch on the fossil fuel industry a moment. The Australian Greenhouse Office reported recently that climate change in Australia is unequivocal. Predictions are for a hotter climate, more droughts, more frequent and violent storms, agricultural losses and serious agricultural damage. We all know, on both sides of this House, of the cosy and long standing relationship between the Federal Government and the fossil fuel and mining industries. Recently, through the media, we’ve also learned of secret meetings between representatives of those industries and members of various federal governments. These “arrangements” have substantially shaped the power industry and its practices today. And we, at state level, on both sides of this House, are no less blameless. For the greater good, we all must change. We must continue reducing green house emissions by all means available. To that extent, the Victorian Government is firstly going to limit, then phase out over the next three years, all State benefits to the coal industry.’

  Sounds of disbelief arose from the Opposition benches.

  ‘We will then transfer those benefits to a range of projects like the Hart Lite program and show leadership in an arena the Federal Government continues to walk away from. We will reduce reliance on fossil fuel in this State by encouraging new forms of power generation, sun, wind, sea and geo-thermal, all non-nuclear. Additionally, we will work harder to find an effective method of cleaning fossil fuel emissions because we have to minimise the damage caused by residual coal fired power plants. We have to encourage the major coal fired energy producers to invest, to innovate, to explore and to develop in these new directions as well. As you perceive Mr Speaker, I am presenting two key strategies here; a new generation of solar engineering unique to this country and a new energy philosophy and policy for Victoria. The new solar technology can be retrofitted to any building, is about 150 per cent more effective than any other form of solar power now available and is a quarter the price of solar units currently on sale. Once the new factory is underway in Victoria, unit costs will reduce even further. I therefore give notice, Mr Speaker, of the Government’s intention to acquire the Camp Road Reserve, 800 metres west of the Hume Freeway to build a new industrial complex devoted to the manufacture of these solar energy units.’