19
The next morning Harry picks up the papers at Central Station before catching the train out to Parramatta. Another Kelly Pool scoop fills the front page of the Bankstown Chronicle, ATTEMPT TO SUPPRESS KRISTICH FILES. Harry smiles to himself, she’s spinning it out. The story continues on pages two and three, with pictures of Kristich at social functions alongside celebrities and politicians. On page four there is an account of the recent crime scenes in and around Crucifixion Creek, with a map and more photographs. Finally, the paper’s editorial follows up, raising questions about Kristich’s activities and his connections with the Crows. It’s almost as if the Chronicle has decided to become a single-issue paper. The other dailies have followed in its wake, printing versions of Kelly’s revelations of yesterday.
When he gets to the eighth floor he finds everyone reading the Chronicle. There are muttered expletives, ‘How the hell did they know that?’ Deb is on the phone. She gets to her feet and calls him over. ‘Your girlfriend’s hit the jackpot today, Harry. The boss wants to see us.’
Marshall is sitting at his desk, wearing his uniform and an angry frown. He takes one of his antacid pills before he speaks.
‘I’m going to Jack D’Arcy’s funeral in an hour. The commissioner will be there, and she’ll be wanting answers. Where did this come from? Not from the coroner’s office, not from the ambos. This time there’s no fucking doubt, is there? It’s come from here, from Strike Force Gemini, from us!’ His fist comes down on the copy of the Bankstown Chronicle lying on his desk. ‘So who’s the ratbag pig’s arse leak?’
Deb takes a deep breath. The whole floor must have heard his roar through the thin partitions. ‘I’ve no idea, sir.’
‘Well, you’d better find out, inspector! It’s your bloody strike force.’
‘Could it have come from the legal office, sir?’
Marshall growls, baring his teeth. ‘Find out. I don’t want vague speculation, I want answers.’
‘I suppose,’ Deb says cautiously, ‘it could work in our favour, if it puts pressure on them to release Kristich’s computer. That’s what we really need for a breakthrough.’
‘Are you telling me, inspector, that your bloody team deliberately leaked this information to the press in order to cruel the lawyers?’
‘No, sir, of course not.’
‘Well…’ Marshall’s mood seems to take an abrupt swing. ‘In your shoes I might have done it, years ago. But these days it’s not on, Deb. It’s just not on. The bloody lawyers have got us all by the throat. They’ll crucify whoever did this, if they catch them. And the commissioner’s a careful woman.’
‘Well, we’ll do our best.’
‘Yes, yes.’ He says it without much conviction. ‘Course you will.’
When they get outside Harry remarks that she handled it well.
She stops, pulling him aside out of sight of the others. ‘Are you the ratbag pig’s arse, Harry? Are you Kelly Pool’s little helper?’
‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘I don’t know, Harry. She seemed very friendly.’
‘Tap her phone, then. Bug her home, her office.’
Deb stares at him for a moment, then says, ‘It’s already done,’ and marches away.
At lunchtime Harry takes a car into the city and meets Nicole to take her to the bank where she opens a new account, into which he transfers an initial deposit.
When they get back to the car he says, ‘That’ll tide you over for now. I’ll make arrangements to transfer more shortly. You should talk to the school. I’m sure they’ll help you work something out. They won’t want people saying they acted harshly.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that. The trouble is, with all this in the papers now about the bikies and the Creek, I’m afraid people will think Greg was mixed up with them somehow, what with the fire and everything. I still don’t understand what he was doing out there in the middle of the night.’
‘He was just working late at the depot. It was the end of the tax year and his books were in a mess.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Have you thought about going back to work, Nicole? Get out of the house, meet new people, start a new life?’
‘Oh…I don’t know. It feels too soon.’
‘Yeah, sure. Sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ She puts a hand on his arm. ‘I do appreciate all you’re doing for me, Harry. Jenny’s very lucky. You’re a good man. I’ve always known that. And I know how difficult the last few years have been for you. It must be so hard, living with someone and unable to see things together, or share a meaningful look.’
It’s an awkward moment. He starts the car and drives her home, then returns to headquarters. On the way he switches on the news. The New South Wales opposition has attacked the state attorney-general and the police minister over their handling of the Kristich affair, alleging a cover-up. When he gets back to the office he finds people tidying their desks and putting on their ties. Strike Force Gemini is to be visited by some important people.
It’s four in the afternoon before the team is assembled in the briefing room and Detective Superintendent Marshall escorts the visitors in. He introduces the commissioner and the police minister, Derryn Oldfield. The minister steps forward. The audience sits stony-faced, bracing for a politician’s platitudes and waffle, but when he begins to speak Harry senses a shift of mood. Oldfield is direct, without any of the bluster of parliament.
‘If you were listening to the radio earlier today you’ll know that the attorney-general and I have come under attack over the Kristich murder enquiry, and I wanted to come here today to say that you have my complete support. I understand that you are working to resolve a difficult case under trying conditions of press speculation and legal obstruction, but I have confidence that you will not be deflected from your duty to bring all the facts out into the light of public scrutiny, no matter how embarrassing they may be for some people. And to that end, I am very happy to inform you that we have just received word that the Supreme Court has now cleared your access to all of the material seized under authorised warrants, including Alexander Kristich’s computer.’
There is a stir of interest, then someone begins clapping and others join in. Oldfield continues, about the importance his government attaches to the war on organised crime, outlaw motorcycle gangs and public corruption.
As he speaks, Harry watches him closely, troubled by some memory. He has seen his face many times before on TV and in the press, but he tries to recall a more recent sighting, and then it comes to him, the image of Sandi Krstić in Vanuatu with the Australian high commissioner. Could that have been Derryn Oldfield, now a member of the New South Wales upper house and minister of police? Harry joins in the applause as Oldfield finishes his speech and the commissioner steps forward with a brief, brisk demand for progress.
The meeting breaks up, but before the VIPs leave Marshall brings Oldfield over to meet Deb as head of Strike Force Gemini. When they’ve exchanged a few words he also introduces Harry, standing next to her.
‘Belltree?’ Oldfield says. ‘Interesting name. Any relation to the judge?’
‘Yes, sir. He was my father.’
‘Really?
Well, well. I didn’t know he had a son. You have big shoes to fill.’
‘Yes. You knew him?’
‘By reputation of course, and we did meet a few times.’ He turns to Marshall and says, ‘I’m afraid I must be getting back to Macquarie Street, Bob. Good to meet you, Harry, and you too Deb. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with the good work,’ and he gives them a big smile and walks away.
Several hours later they are packing up for the night when two people arrive from technical support. Deb welcomes them and everyone clusters around.
‘So what have you got for us?’ she asks.
They glance at each other, then the senior one, Yeang, says, ‘Nothing.’
‘Oh. Well, how long is it going to take?’
‘No, I mean there’s nothing. Kristich’s hard drive is empty.’
‘Empty?’ Deb stares at him, incredulous. ‘How can it be? You mean someone’s deleted the files?’
‘No, if they were just deleted we could retrieve them, but the drive has been wiped.’
‘You’ll have to explain that, mate.’
‘Well, someone’s used a drive-wipe utility on it that overwrites the data with ones and zeros, so it’s hard to read. The utility can make as many passes over the data as you want, although it takes time, and each pass makes the data harder and harder to retrieve. The Department of Defence specifies three passes for most material, but you can do more.’
‘And this one?’
‘It’s had a lot more. It’s impossible to retrieve anything.’
There are groans of disbelief.
Deb says, ‘When was this done?’
‘Couldn’t say.’
‘I mean, before or after we took possession of it?’
‘We can’t tell. I’m sorry.’
The boss is in a meeting at police headquarters in the city. Deb says she has to speak to him urgently and eventually he comes to the phone. She explains what’s happened, then hands over to Yeang who says it all again.
Harry murmurs to Deb, ‘How did he take it?’ and she shrugs.
‘Disbelief. I mean, how is this possible, Harry? What’s going on?’
When he gets home he searches out the photograph of Kristich in Vanuatu. The caption doesn’t name the high commissioner, but he looks very similar to Oldfield. He tells Jenny about it, and she says it shouldn’t be hard to check. While she does it, she says, ‘I think there are pictures among that stuff I printed off yesterday. Though I couldn’t see, of course.’ She smiles towards where she supposes he is, although she’s slightly off-target, and he thinks of Nicole’s remarks in the car earlier. Her manner was intimate, almost flirtatious. Or had he imagined that?
He picks up the stack of printouts and begins to leaf through them. If Kristich had a file of photographs on his computer Jenny hasn’t found it yet. But there is one picture that seems to be part of an email Christmas greeting. The message reads, ‘We three kings… Merry Christmas guys.’ The sender is ‘Chocky’ and the photograph is of three men seated in the stern of a yacht, grinning, wearing dark glasses, stripped to the waist, raising champagne flutes at the camera. On the left is Kristich, in the centre the high commissioner figure from the Vanuatu picture, and on the right someone Harry doesn’t recognise.
‘Yes,’ Jenny says. ‘Derryn Oldfield was the Australian high commissioner to Vanuatu between 2004 and 2006. He was elected to the Legislative Council in the 2007 election.’
‘How about Chocky? Have you come across that before?’
‘Oh yes, another nickname I suppose.’
‘Yes. I think he’s one of these three guys.’ He describes the picture.
Jenny sighs. ‘I wish I could see it. I may have missed so many things.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll do it together.’
They work through the material that Jenny has been able to retrieve so far from the hard drive, Harry making notes, trying to find connections. After a while she says, ‘I’ve been trying to work out these nicknames. It would be so much easier if we knew who they were.’
‘Yes.’
‘Pol, for instance. Could that mean a policeman, or a politician? Maybe Rooster is a rugby league player or fan. I’ve found another like that—NRL, National Rugby League? And Crystal? Is that a reference to crystal meth? A drug dealer? Bebchuk?’
‘Could be. What about Kristich himself?’
‘Oh, that’s obvious from the correspondence. He signs himself “47”.’
‘Why 47?’ Harry ponders. ‘Kristich, Alexander Kristich, AK—AK47! It’s cryptic, like a crossword puzzle. Maybe they’re all like that. Maybe we should list the people we know he knew, and try to match them to a clue. What about his two victims—Greg and the old couple.’
‘What was their name?’
‘Waterford.’
‘Well, how about Waterford Crystal? And “Chippy”, that could be Greg. He was a carpenter.’
They play it like a game together, coming up with outrageous puns and obscure references.
‘What about Oldfield?’ Harry asks, and Jenny stares up at the ceiling for a moment, then says, ‘Tubular Bells! You remember? Mike Oldfield?’
‘Bells.’ Is that possible? Oldfield, not Dad. ‘You could be right. Are there other references to Bells apart from the offshore bank account?’
‘I think there were a couple of emails…’ She asks her computer to find them. ‘Yes, the latest last month, the thirteenth, from Kristich to Bells. Thanks for coming round last night, mate. Got that sorted. All good, 47.’
So Bells is still around. Definitely not his father. Harry relaxes, relieved and ashamed. ‘In that case,’ he says, ‘I think you should go ahead and take that money for Nicole. Are you sure you can do it without it being traced back to you?’
‘Yes.’ She reaches out to find his hand. ‘I’m sure it’s the right thing to do, Harry. If we find out otherwise, I can always put it back.’
They go on. Rooster might conceivably mean chook, as in Bebchuk. Pol still stumps them.
‘Now I need to go back through the references to see if they make sense with those people,’ Jenny says.
Harry hears the ring of a mobile, not his usual one, but the one whose number he gave to Kelly Pool. He gets it out of his jacket pocket and answers. ‘Hello, Kelly.’
‘Harry, have you seen my stuff?’
‘Oh yes, everyone has. You’ve been stirring things up a bit. What’s coming tomorrow?’
‘More about Kristich’s former career in Queensland. I’ve been getting all kinds of messages from members of the public, people who knew Kristich, were burnt by him. Trouble is, it’s hard to verify them. Do you have anything for me?’
‘I have a photograph that might interest you. I don’t know, it may be quite innocent. Kristich on a yacht, drinking champagne with two other guys. I think one of them may be Derryn Oldfield, our police minister. The other one I don’t know.’
‘A yacht? That’s interesting. Any idea of the date?’
‘I’m guessing it was when Kristich was in Vanuatu. Oldfield was the Australian h
igh commissioner there.’
‘Shit, I didn’t know that.’
‘There was a caption with the picture. It said, “We three kings”.’
‘Oh, lovely. Maybe I can identify the third man. Harry, after what went on in parliament today, a picture of Kristich with Oldfield would be explosive.’
He wonders if this isn’t going too fast, getting out of hand. He doesn’t mention the wiped computer drive.
‘How can I get hold of it, Harry? Can you email it to me?’
‘No. They’re bugging you, Kelly, like I said they would. You’re not calling from home, are you?’
‘No, I’m in the mall, getting something to eat.’
‘Okay…’ He thinks. ‘There’s a litter bin at one end of the concourse in Central Station.’ He describes the location. ‘Go there in forty minutes and you’ll find a brown envelope in the bin. Give me a call afterwards to let me know you got it.’
‘Right. Thanks, 007.’
He changes quickly into his joggers and sets off. As he runs down the hill towards Central, hood up, he wonders if he’s got it all wrong. It may just be coincidence and wishful thinking. So what if Kristich and Oldfield met in Vanuatu? Of course they would, expats together. Is he just giving Kelly material to ruin a good man’s reputation? But then he thinks of Tubby Bell and his offshore account. It’s got to be him. Hasn’t it?
20
There is a queue at the newspaper stall the next morning, everyone buying the Bankstown Chronicle, and Harry is lucky to get a copy. The yacht photograph is spread across the front page. Kelly has identified the third man as Maram Mansur, a property developer with interests in both Sydney and the Gold Coast. A picture of his luxury yacht Rashida is featured on page two, along with an apartment block in Surfers Paradise built by his company Ozdevco Properties, the building from which Kristich’s wife had her fatal fall. Closer to home, Kelly reveals that a quantity of methamphetamine was seized in the recent raid on the Crow clubhouse, similar in type to drugs found at Kristich’s office.
Crucifixion Creek Page 13