No Witness, No Case

by Bill Robertson

  Thus, the Sunday Herald Sun carried a remarkable expose of dirty business and dirty politics, greed, corruption and callous disregard for the environment, the law and the community. The story raised questions about the nature of democracy and who really made the rules: business or government? The article concluded with a comprehensive profile of a man once considered a brilliant government Minister with potential to be Premier. A manipulative man driven by power, ruthlessness and an insatiable appetite for wealth – no matter the cost to others. A man utterly devoid of principle.

  Chapter

  SIXTY- FIVE

  Lying on the lounge, Teresa Marchese read the lead story in the Sunday Herald Sun. With growing amazement, she found that everything she hoped would emerge to engineer Aldrittson’s downfall now stood revealed. He was publicly shamed and humiliated. For a man who cherished his urbane, sophisticated image of power, he had truly been dropped in the duck pond to emerge reeking of slime. Rosslyn Zimmer, you absolute legend, she thought. As she read on, an occasional soft chuckle erupted as she found snippets of her own information interspersed with new material from Zimmer’s ample research.

  As comprehensive as the story was however, two key factors were missing: the brilliant new waste-disposal concept and Aldrittson’s partnership with Pescaro. Zimmer apparently had not discovered these aspects. Not surprising – Aldrittson, Pescaro and Santini had worked diligently to bury them. Soon though, even they would emerge. She fervently hoped the new toxic waste scheme would surface unscathed and be seen in a positive light – it did not deserve to become a casualty of either politics or evil men.

  After a month in protection, Teresa had changed significantly. At first, traumatised by Drummond’s shooting and prevented from seeing him, she felt scarred, guilty and vulnerable. It was her lifestyle and her connections that had brought death so close. No amount of counter argument by Mary and Tony or even Aleisha Campbell, could convince her otherwise. Direct contact with Drummond was prohibited because the medical staff wanted a strong recovery before his shoulder reconstruction and they had embargoed any social intercourse. Thus Teresa’s progress reports were mostly second hand, a situation which slyly fed her festering guilt.

  Just as she had been warned, the monotony and restriction of witness protection was gruelling. She missed choice, spontaneity, stimulation and freedom. Even Aleisha, who was magnificent in her support, could not lessen the grey, exhausting repetition of police interviews, endless television, reading and confinement, a confinement punctuated only by the spark of an occasional small, safe, outing.

  Adding to this cage of horrors was growing uncertainty about her own future. From her many discussions and interviews with Commander Donovan it was plain that her role in Pescaro’s empire was seriously criminal. She had always known the money she moved, managed and invested had unlawful origins. Somewhat naively, she once had said to Donovan that it seemed like monopoly money.

  ‘That’s the very point,’ he had responded with a crooked smile, ‘it comes from a highly structured, efficient and well organised criminal monopoly. What you were doing Teresa was wrong. It’s called money laundering and it’s a serious bloody crime.’

  Donovan explained they would be seeking a transactional indemnity against prosecution in return for her evidence against Pescaro and others. Negotiating this process however was a matter of intense frustration. Co-operation was the very heartstone of Teresa’s actions yet Donovan still could not say whether indemnity was certain. Glumly he told her that a couple of powerbrokers in the Office of Public Prosecutions were unhappy about the request for immunity – they preferred she got some form of sentence. Their argument was that evidence from criminal informers was always tainted and raised questions about the propriety of the prosecution. The balance, they said, lay in a lenient penalty which acknowledged the quality of the evidence and results obtained.

  Donovan’s news was not cheering and Teresa feared the OPP’s resistance might be driven by one of Pescaro’s many “plants”. Safe under police protection, her deepest fear was that Pescaro would exploit this impasse to find and eliminate Drummond, and then herself.

  Self-doubt, uncertainty about the future and the tedium of “protection” combined to drag her into the dark and claustrophobic vortex of depression. She became withdrawn, moody and encrusted with lethargy. She felt old, saw new shadows and lines crease her face and experienced numbing exhaustion. Not even Aleisha’s bright company could banish the phantoms.

  But today – today was different. Zimmer’s expose was uplifting. Teresa’s faith in a higher authority being able to correct all manner of wrongs had, for the moment, returned.

  Nearing the end of the article she heard a soft knock at the door. Checking the spy hole, she opened up to Aleisha Campbell who was beaming and bearing a large bunch of flowers.

  ‘Hi girl. Felt I just had to come and say g’day. I see you’ve got the good news bulletin,’ she nodded towards the paper on the couch. ‘I got mine early this morning, read Zimmer’s story and thought, this calls for a celebration. What a show stopper. And, what an absolute prick is that bloody Aldrittson. How could people elect such a rotten bastard to government? All I can say is, he must have been deft at hiding his double life.’

  Aleisha’s good humour was infectious and Teresa laughed with her. ‘I know! I told you he was a shit. Now the world knows it too.’ Inwardly, she glowed with satisfaction at being Zimmer’s secret source.

  ‘Okay girl, get your glad rags on. We are going to kick our heels up today. Where would you like to go? Somewhere you like that we haven’t yet been.’ Aleisha’s eyes sparkled, her mood was irrestible. ‘And while you get yourself ready, I’ll drown these flowers in something. Is there a vase?’

  Teresa laughed, ‘You should know. This place has, at least for me, redefined the term minimalism. The best I can suggest is that you retrieve a plastic fruit jar I pitched with the rubbish this morning. That’ll have to do. Tell me, have you ever been to Maling Road?’

  ‘No, where is it? What is it?’ Aleisha busied herself rinsing the plastic jar and trimming the flowers.

  ‘It’s a small street off Canterbury Road tucked in behind the Canterbury railway station,’ replied Teresa. ‘It’s charming and reeks of the 1920s and 30s. I love going there. Old fashioned tea rooms, interesting shops, beautiful artwork and a curious antique place in what used to originally be a theatre. It’s a good place for a celebration.’

  ‘Good. I have another little surprise for you too, but not until we get underway. Are you a long or short and curly blonde today?’

  Teresa laughed. ‘Well, I think Maling Road is a classy place so I’ll attempt to be the sophisticate – I’ll have long hair today.’

  Half an hour later they drove away from the Witsec unit in an unremarkable blue Holden Astra belonging to the police fleet.

  ‘Alright Ms Campbell, we’re underway, what’s the surprise?’ Teresa was curious and though her eyes shone with the prospect of a day in Maling Road, a small pucker of uncertainty creased her forehead.

  Aleisha looked sideways and grinned at her. ‘Two things actually. First, I can share a small secret about those videos from Baker’s boat and second, we are going to see Andy … Hey! It’s okay. That’s meant to be good news.’ Aleisha pulled gently to the kerb.

  Her news had brought instantaneous and total shock. Teresa thought she would burst; tears flooded her cheeks. It would be the first time she had seen Drummond since their goodbyes in mid-July. She wanted to laugh with joy but could only weep; her throat was constricted and her heart thumped. Even breathing was difficult. Gradually, she regained her composure. She turned to Aleisha and smiled, a mixture of fear and gratitude on her tear stained face. ‘Aleisha Campbell,’ she said softly, ‘you are a bitch. Why didn’t you tell me this back at the unit? At least I could have repaired all this damage before we left.’ She gestured to her face.

  Aleisha reached across and clasped her hand. ‘Andy Drummond will find you beaut
iful make-up or no make-up. I didn’t tell you because I really did want to surprise you and secondly, Andy’s shoulder reconstruction is tomorrow. It’s almost five weeks since the shooting and he’s made excellent progress. My boss knows everything going on and he suggested this visit. His opinion was that you not only needed, but deserved it.’

  Teresa leaned across and kissed Aleisha’s cheek. ‘Thank you, thank you. I know that’s inadequate, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And please thank him too.’

  ‘Good. Are we right to go?’ Aleisha was touched by Teresa’s sincerity and understood the importance of this meeting. Her decline had been discussed at Witsec and they favoured direct contact in the hope it would lift Teresa’s “blues”. Continuing in comfortable silence, Aleisha allowed space for Teresa to think. Teresa, on the other hand, could scarcely contain herself. Head spinning with anticipation, reigning in tumultuous feelings and picturing Drummond’s reaction, she was ready to explode with happiness.

  Eventually Aleisha said, ‘We have to take precautions. As far as the nursing staff are concerned, we are both detectives. Every step we take will be monitored. When you are with Andy, apart from medical staff, no one else can enter the room. Unfortunately, you can only have ten minutes because this visit is very risky. So, minimal exposure. Clear on all that?’

  ‘Yes – crystal.’ Teresa, still overcome by her feelings, spoke in a low husky voice. ‘Ten minutes?’

  ‘Yep. Absolutely no more. Normally, we don’t do this but sometimes, unique circumstances demand unique actions.’ Aleisha’s gentle smile softened her unequivocal tone.

  ‘Oh, I forgot,’ Teresa exclaimed, ‘you mentioned something about Baker’s videos?’

  ‘Yes, I sensed your curiosity about them even though you didn’t say much. I had about thirty to get through and all but three were genuine – it took quite a while I can tell you. The three non-genuine ones were all porno stuff involving kids – boys and girls – between the ages of about five and twelve. They were homemade and apparently put together by members of Baker’s group. Baker’s in them by the way. I’m not going into detail because it’s disgustingly horrible. As soon as I realised what I had I asked for an appointment with A/ C Tavistock. I told him everything and he brought Commander Danniellson in. I went through it again, gave him the videos and left it at that. Now we’ll wait and see. Anyway, last Friday afternoon Danniellson’s Staff Officer rang me. He was oblique and a bit crass but told me to watch the news on Sunday night. I would recognise some amateur actors he said. His message was about the videos. Maybe we’ll know tonight.’

  ‘What about Marnie Baker and her girls? Are they in the know?’

  Aleisha frowned. ‘Look, the truth is, I don’t know. I did raise my concerns about them with the A/C and he understood. Being the man he is, I would imagine he’s dealt with all that tactfully. Naturally I can’t discuss it with Marnie while the investigation is proceeding. In a sense, Baker is irrelevant because he’s dead, but all the others are still around. A word out of place by me could jeopardise the enquiry before it is completed. I can’t take the risk of talking to Marnie about it.’

  Teresa nodded and remained silent as they drove into the hospital carpark. She was tense and watchful. Stepping into the lift, Aleisha punched six: “Surgical”.

  They stepped from the lift into a wide corridor smelling of antiseptic and followed floor arrows to the Nurses Station. Aleisha pressed the buzzer on a small counter outside the station. A petite Asian nurse stepped from the glassed room. ‘I’ve been told to meet Sister Hibbert here. Is she available? I’m Aleisha Campbell.’

  The nurse vanished. Moments later a tall angular woman in her mid forties appeared. ‘I’m Louise Hibbert, I’ve been expecting you. Follow me.’

  Hibbert stopped and pointed ahead. ‘Third door on the right from here. Aleisha, you are to keep time from the moment your colleague enters the room. When you are done, come back and check in with me on your way out. Clear?’ They both nodded. Hibbert turned and swished away, rubber soles squeaking on the polished floor. Aleisha and Teresa moved on to Drummond’s room.

  Outside his door they stopped. Teresa apprehensive. Aleisha read her uncertainty and said, ‘Go on, you’ll be right. Tell the copper inside I’m waiting out here to speak with him.’ She gently pushed Teresa towards the door.

  Although only a little after eleven o’clock, the room was darkened. Drummond was in bed next to a window at the far end of the room watching TV and listening through a set of headphones. He glanced briefly at Teresa then turned his attention back to the screen. As Teresa spoke quietly to the police guard, her eyes remained fixed on Drummond. The upper half of his body was encased in bandages, his arm strapped across his chest. He was attached to an electronic monitor – drips and drainage tubes hung from him. Slowly, silently, she walked forward, eyes glowing.

  Conscious of her presence, he turned to face her. He removed his head phones and looked at her closely, eyes beginning to widen. ‘Teresa,’ he whispered incredulously.

  ‘I told you I was good at dressing up,’ she said, her voice low and husky as she flicked her long blonde hair,

  Drummond’s eyes glistened. ‘Teresa.’ His voice, although barely a croak, was still Drummond’s voice. He raised his left arm and drew her down and they kissed. In that instant, all Teresa’s doubts, fears and guilt about how he might feel towards her evaporated in a wave of tenderness. It was a kiss of both joyous reunion and complete absolution.

  ‘What are you doing here? You look so … so thin! God I’ve missed you. Dreamt of this for weeks. How are you sweetheart?’

  ‘Enough, enough. Too many questions,’ she said, pressing her finger across his lips. She smiled lovingly. ‘Andy, I’ve only got ten minutes, probably eight now. The Witsec people arranged this and thought you were well enough for us to talk. I’m okay but I have been so worried about you and feel so guilty about all this.’ She pointed to his bandages.

  ‘No,’ he wheezed, ‘Tavistock warned me, remember? Home not a good idea. Not your fault. Own pig-headedness. What other news?’ His speech was laboured and breathy.

  ‘Well you probably know all about Ben Aldrittson and that Jack died.’ Drummond nodded. ‘Two of Giuseppe’s men – Franse and Gibaldi – were executed and I suspect that was organised by Ed Masseria. Giuseppe believed he was being sold out to the Russians. Those two went missing after a big banquet he sponsored. I know the method is crude and old fashioned, but it’s the way they do things. Tavistock and his team are working hard. I’ve had so many interviews my head hurts and my evidence is looking like War and Peace. Donovan suspects I leaked information to Zimmer and has given me hell over it. I’m not admitting to it though and I’m sure there’ll be more grief tomorrow about today’s article. I know I shouldn’t have done it but, by God I feel good.’ She grinned broadly. ‘Tavistock is still having trouble getting me indemnified against prosecution but thinks it will work out in the end.’

  ‘Whoa, whoa; back up. What do you mean – prosecution? What are you talking about?’

  ‘All that work I did for Pescaro – money laundering. As you know, I want to testify about that and everything else. The police want me indemnified against prosecution in return for my evidence. Someone at the Office of Public Prosecutions is objecting and it’s taking a while to sort out. Tavistock is pretty confident it will be okay.’

  They kissed again. ‘Enough of that. What about you? Will your voice and lungs return to normal? And the arm and shoulder – what’s happening there?’

  ‘Voice okay,’ he rasped, ‘just not used much. Lungs healing well – matter of time. Can’t say much about the shoulder. Surgeons say my fitness helped. Mobility might be seventy five – eighty per cent – don’t know. Means lifestyle change though.’

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Teresa, eyes searching his face. ‘Andy, I’ve missed you so much, when you get out of here I’m determined not to let you out of my sight again. Andy Drummond, after this is over, would you c
onsider marrying me?’

  ‘Thought you’d never ask. In fact, I demand it.’ Andy smiled, overwhelmed.

  She touched him gently on the cheek and kissed him tenderly. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I’ve only got a minute left. They are rigid about the time because of the risk and they don’t want you too excited before tomorrow. Donovan said we have to think about another country to live in. He says my face is too well known among Mafia families here. Australia would be too dangerous. So, while you’re lying there getting soft and fat, think about where we could live.’

  She looked up as the door opened and Aleisha entered. ‘Got to go,’ she said softly. ‘I love you Andy – never doubt it. Good luck tomorrow, I know you’ll be fine. They’ll tell me as soon as they can.’ They kissed again. ‘Be sure to watch the news tonight; something is breaking.’

  ‘Be very careful my darling,’ said Andy hoarsely, ‘I love you too.’

  She walked towards Aleisha and vanished through the door.

  Chapter

  SIXTY- SIX

  On Sunday evening, in their various locations Drummond, Teresa, Aleisha and Pescaro, watched the seven o’clock news on ABC television. Introducing the lead story, anchorman James Richardson said, ‘In a remarkable day that has shaken the government and many highly respected Melbourne companies, there is mounting evidence of huge environmental damage caused by the dumping of toxic materials. It has been alleged that Aldrittson Waste Disposals dumped poisonous chemicals and fluids in at least four states for more than twenty-five years as part of an illegal multi-million dollar black industry. It is also alleged these activities were concealed inside their legitimate waste business. They have even been accused of trying to legalise their scam. Managing Director, Jack Aldrittson, recently died of a heart attack. His son, disgraced former politician Ben Aldrittson, presented Premier Meadows with an elaborate proposal for handling toxic waste just three months ago. Had the scheme been approved, it is alleged that Aldrittson’s would not only have continued their previous illicit activities under government sanction but also gained huge profits. This afternoon Premier Meadows refused to comment on the matter and Mr Aldrittson could not be located. In an exclusive interview to the ABC this evening, Professor Cameron Blake of RMIT said that in mid-July Premier Meadows asked him to examine a proposal for the destruction of toxic waste. Professor Blake said he wanted to set the record straight because he was concerned that people would misconstrue his, and RMIT’s, involvement in the Aldrittson scandal. He said he attended a meeting with the Premier and then Minister for Trade and Industry, Ben Aldrittson, on July 14. The Premier was seeking a second opinion on a waste destruction scheme. Professor Blake said that in his opinion it was a brilliant and important innovation and he did not know then that Aldrittson’s had allegedly been dumping black waste. ‘It would be a great pity,’ he said, ‘if the waste concept I examined was scuttled for legal or political reasons. What I saw was innovative, comprehensive, well regulated and intended to be very legal.’