Flood country

by Robert Maddison

  ‘No, nothing, as far as we know. Luke did say that it will be vital to have that evidence from Mike’s whistleblower. Otherwise it’s just a lot of supposition and coincidences,’ replied Sharon.

  Pip said, ‘Maybe you should give Mike a call before we go out there tomorrow to see if he’s gotten anywhere with the whistleblower?’

  ‘I can do that tonight, if he’s around,’ said Jack.

  ‘If ICAC is interested I’m in favour of us going to Sydney ASAP to see these guys,’ said Sharon. ‘The violence is escalating and I think we all need to be taking extra precautions for our safety. Would be good to know we could get some people with muscle on the scene soon, wouldn’t it.’

  ‘Ok then, let’s talk again later and see what extra we know by then,’ said Sharon.

  They finished their snack and Sharon left, reminding them she still had a newspaper to run. Pip and Jack sat for a few minutes before the stresses of the last few days took their toll. ‘I’m feeling knackered. Might go and have a lie down, if that’s alright?’

  ‘Sure, sounds like a good idea. Nurse Brenda suggested I make you do that, so we wouldn’t want to upset her!’

  Pip showed Jack to his room and helped him lower himself to sit on the bed. Pip noticed him grimace. ‘I’ll go get you some of those pain killers they gave you at the hospital. They’ll help you sleep.’ She dashed out the door and was back in a few seconds with the pills and a glass of water. ‘Here you go.’

  He swallowed two pills and then tried to lie down, which wasn’t easy with his tender shoulder and ribs. Pip noticed and came to the rescue by wrapping her arms around him and lowering him down. They ended up entwined with their faces a few centimetres apart.

  ‘Don’t you go getting any ideas here now, Jacky boy. You’re in no condition to be doing anything about what I suspect you’re thinking,’ she said with that playful tone in her voice again. With that gentle rebuke she leaned forward and placed a soft and tender kiss on his lips. Yum, thought Jack.

  ‘I’m glad you’re going to be ok, Mr Miller,’ she said, standing. ‘I’m starting to like having you around. Now get some rest.’ She walked out. Jack was still floating from the drugs, and her kiss, but it didn’t prevent him admiring her shapely backside as she went through the door.

  Chapter 26

  As Jack snoozed, the Board of Directors’ meeting for the Goodacres supermarket chain was convening in a high-rise office building on Sydney’s Pitt Street. The Chairman, Sir Lawrence Patterson, called the meeting to order.

  ‘Ladies and Gentleman, we’ll make a start. We have a full agenda before us this afternoon.’ Sir Lawrence had all the credentials for this position—business studies graduate from Oxford, 20 years of experience in senior corporate management and a family well connected into the conservative side of politics. His appointment as chairman of Goodacres two years earlier had caused a small blip of anticipation on the stock exchange.

  ‘So, let me welcome you all to this, our November meeting of the Board,’ said the Chairman with his very formal English way. Sitting around the elongated oval-shaped polished timber table were 11 others, ten Board members and the CEO. The majority of Board members had credentials as impressive as the Chairman, although of Australian birth, and then there was the ‘compulsory’ former Olympic champion as well, to window dress the group.

  ‘Our first item of business is the “Drought proofing” pro-gram. Paul, can you provide us with an update please,’ said the Chairman, turning to Paul Stannard, the CEO.

  Stannard reflected on how he had wanted to call this the ‘Climate change preparedness’ program, but several of those sitting around the table were climate sceptics. Drought was real and here now. Climate change was still in hot dispute—according to them—so ‘Drought proofing’ the business was what they were doing.

  ‘Thank you, Paul, I’d be delighted,’ Stannard began. ‘As you know, shortly after Sir Lawrence took up the chairmanship he suggested that it would be prudent from a business sense to start acquiring water in order to give long-term confidence for our fresh produce supply chain. At the time it was also felt, as has proven to be correct, that ultimately the current Federal Government would bow to pressure from green groups and scientists and cap water allocations along several of the rivers which support our suppliers.’ He paused to make sure he had their full attention.

  ‘In the first twelve months, through a combination of buying up deceased estates or farmers going to the wall, we were able to buy close to 9,000 megalitres of high and general security water at an average price of about $1,200 per megalitre. Then, as I reported at your last meeting, the Federal Government started its water “buy back” program and the price immediately doubled and has risen even further since, to be now sitting at around $2,500–3,000 a megalitre. While there are now more sellers of course; the cost is higher and you as a Board need to consider whether you wish to continue acquiring water or pull back and wait to see what the market does.’

  There was a momentary silence around the table before one of the Board, Maurice Cameron, the most vocal climate sceptic, commented. ‘So, if my maths is correct we’ve spent close to $11 million dollars on this so far, is that the case?’

  ‘Yes, Maurice, that’s true,’ replied Stannard.

  ‘Well, as you would all know, I’ve questioned the need for this from day one. I went along with you all for reasons of solidarity. Now, I think we should sit and wait.’ There were several nods of agreement around the table.

  ‘Sir Lawrence, if I may say one more thing?’ Stannard asked of the Chairman, who nodded his agreement. ‘Let’s not forget, people, that even if some of you continue to question climate change predictions the expected population growth along the eastern seaboard means that within 20 years the demand for fresh produce will more than treble. What we’re doing here is positioning Goodacres to out-compete our rivals in the fresh produce market. As well, we’ll be able to take the moral, and marketing, high ground by saying we’re sourcing our produce locally, not off-shore as the others will be forced to do. Let’s not get hung up on whether or not climate change is real. This is about the long term positioning of the company to have at its disposal a resource—water—that will eventually be an even more precious commodity than it is today.’

  ‘I think Paul’s right, we should push on,’ said Pam Prescott, a former CEO of several smaller scale businesses. ‘My understanding is that fresh produce currently represents 30 to 40 per cent of our turnover and is valued at nearly $100 million annually. The shareholders expect us to protect and grow that part of the business. Not sit on our hands and surrender to this ill-conceived, greenie-driven buyback program of the Government. As the polls turn against them, as they inevitably will, they’ll pull back from it anyway—the next Federal election is only 12 months away.’

  For the next hour the Board argued back and forth before the Chairman intervened, ‘I think we’ve exhausted the arguments on both sides here. What I’m hearing—although correct me if I’m wrong—is that we shouldn’t wind up the program, just maybe slow it down and see what the Federal Government does—in the hope the price of water may fall. Is that a fair summary?’ he asked.

  There were nods all round, some less enthusiastic than others. ‘It’s agreed then,’ said the Chairman, adjusting his paperwork in readiness for the next agenda item.

  ‘Mr Chairman, if I may?’ asked the former Olympic archer, Jamie Tucker.

  ‘Yes, Jamie, does it relate to this item?’ the Chairman asked, sounding peeved.

  ‘Yes, it does, or it may?’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Please be brief, as we have a lot to cover yet,’ the Chairman grudgingly conceded.

  ‘My question is to Paul. A few days ago I saw reported in the Sydney Morning Herald some allegations of corruption in the water industry in the Dawson region, along the MacKinley River. I know that’s one of our target rivers for water acquisitions and that we have interests in GrowOz in that region. I wanted to be sure that no
ne of our dealings or operations have been brought into question by these allegations.’

  Stannard had been hoping this wouldn’t come up. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before replying with carefully chosen words. ‘Be assured you have nothing to worry about, Jamie. The accuser in that case is a grazier and well known for his antagonism to the irrigation industry. There is fierce competition over water between graziers and irrigators, as you know, and this seems to have been yet another attempt to revisit the Water Sharing Plan which was adopted for this river by State government legislation four years ago. Some people missed that boat—it would be fair to say—and remain unhappy. I’m keeping a close eye on the situation.’

  With that, the meeting continued on through its agenda.

  Chapter 27

  ‘Dad, how are you; and more to the point, where are you?’ Lisa asked her stepfather.

  Peter Wellsmore, his speech slurred from a few drinks, replied, ‘I’m lying low at present. How are you, darling?’

  ‘I need to see you. Things are really spiralling out of control. People are saying you’ve gone on extended sick leave? And that that’s just because Mike Thompson has got something on you relating to funny goings-on in the water business. What’s happening? Why are you needing to lie low?’

  ‘It’s a long story, dear, and probably best you know as little as possible. This might get very ugly and I wouldn’t want you caught up in it,’ said Pete.

  ‘Dad, at work I overheard that local journo from the Dawson Times tearing strips off the sarge because he wouldn’t investigate a car accident that some Sydney journo had. She said it wasn’t an accident and that it was somehow tied up with this water thing they’re all investigating.’

  Lisa heard a long, mournful groan come through the phone before her father replied, ‘Listen to me. I’ve been dragged into some stuff which is probably going to turn very bad. A few years ago one of my drinking buddies, Robbo, asked me to ‘overlook’ a situation where some water had been diverted—they said it was water owing to them. Well some young hotshot field officer heard about this, got photos, the works. He then showed it wasn’t a back payment of water at all and presented me with the full case—game, set and match. What could I do; this was a potential prosecution against GrowOz and apart from Robbo being a mate, I knew how important GrowOz was to the town. For God’s sake Lisa, they transformed this place from a typical haemorrhaging rural community to one that now has thriving local businesses and they even sponsor our footy team.’

  ‘What are you saying? What have you done?’ Lisa asked.

  ‘I buried that case. I had the young field officer promoted to the Ballina office overlooking the sea and ever since I’ve been doing the same with any cases that are reported. These people expect it of me now and even have the audacity to ring me sometimes to ask me to make sure nothing comes of certain situations. I’d either take the cases over myself and tell the junior staff that these things take time to work their way through the system, or simply tell them there’s not enough evidence to proceed. Staff turnover is so high few have ever asked about these cases.’

  Lisa was horrified. ‘Dad, that’s corruption. There’s no shade of grey here. You need to come forward and tell all. The police will treat you better if you do that rather than being caught out with whatever evidence Mike Thompson has.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can do that, darling,’ Peter’s voice was becoming more and more slurred. She could hear that he was drinking more as they spoke. ‘If I do that, I suspect I won’t live to tell my tale. One of these people I’ve met; he’s scary, very scary, let me tell you.’

  ‘Please tell me where you are. I’ll come and get you and bring you in here so we can take a full statement and give it to the sarge,’ pleaded Lisa.

  Wellsmore laughed long and hard. ‘Bloody McMahon’s caught up in it too. That’s why he’s turning a blind eye to that car accident. I can’t come in there, he’d be telling Mr Tough Guy within minutes and then… I’m sorry Lisa, so very, very sorry.’ His voice trailed off and the phone call came to a sudden end.

  Lisa sat and contemplated. What can I do? What should I do?

  Chapter 28

  The next morning, ‘I hear the journo’s going to be ok.’ As usual, Vinnie could hear sea gulls in the background whenever The Man rang. Doesn’t this guy ever work, he thought.

  Vinnie replied. ‘Yeah, but he’s not a well boy. The bigger concern is that he’s hooked up with the local journo now and she’s sniffing around too.’

  ‘Don’t tell me some country hick journo has you worried Vinnie?’

  ‘Of course not, but they’ve got this chopper pilot helping them too; so the numbers are starting to build. The local sergeant has managed to hose down the car accident and the missing camera and laptop. The worry is that we couldn’t find anything at Thompson’s place and he came back in time to stop the place burning down. Now they really know we’re after them.’

  ‘Christ, you really are losing your touch. If you’re not up for this, I can always get someone else,’ said The Man.

  ‘That won’t be necessary. I’ve got Todd in my ear over this too. You guys must really have lots at stake here.’

  ‘Don’t you worry yourself about that, just do the fucking job you’re paid to do,’ and as usual the phone went dead.

  Ok, arsehole, you want action—I’ll give you fucking action, Vinnie thought as he picked up his phone to call Billy.

  Chapter 29

  As a detective, Luke had had dealings with the Independent Commission Against Corruption in the past. A fellow detective had been investigated, and subsequently cleared of any wrongdoing, a couple of years earlier. Through that process he’d gotten to know one of the investigators, Mark Samuels. He was a tough, uncompromising guy who took his work very seriously. In ICAC there didn’t seem to be any other types.

  Luke rang Mark and asked if he could buy him a coffee at a quiet café not far from the ICAC building. Mark remembered him and they agreed to meet at 2.00 pm.

  In the interim, Luke checked out the photos Sharon had emailed through. In them he could clearly see the earthworks but without the local context it was difficult to make out where water was flowing to or should be going. He could read the registration plate on the ute and ran it through the vehicle database. It came back within seconds telling him it was registered to a Marcus Girodella who seemed to have moved around a bit, going on how many times his registration details had been updated. The last address was for Moss Vale in the Southern highlands, a bit over an hour southwest of Sydney, a long way from where the car was now. He might have sold it so Luke accessed the electoral role to cross-check the name with the address. Sure enough, they matched; so he was none the wiser. He checked the white pages. No number for ‘M Girodella’ in that area code. This was mildly interesting, but not too unusual.

  Luke looked more closely at the photo to try to find some identification on the excavator. These vehicles were required to have certification and registration plates if being driven on public roads. He could make out just two letters and one number from the registration plate. These were the letters SR followed by a 5. Not much to go on but worth a try. A search like this was beyond him so he wandered down the corridor to the Station’s resident CSI-geek. ‘G’day Benny, how you doin’?’ he asked. ‘Any chance you could run a search for me? Beyond the capability of this Luddite.’

  ‘I’m flat out, so join the queue; unless it’s super urgent?’ Benny replied.

  ‘Moderately urgent—when you get a chance—appreciate it.’ Luke put the written request with photo attached in Benny’s ‘in tray’ and walked back to his desk.

  Chapter 30

  Pip, Sharon and Jack flew out to Sunset Downs. Mike was waiting for them; and with him were Charlie, Sandie and the kids. ‘I thought these guys should be in on this since they’ll inherit this place if I go belly up,’ said Mike, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

  Sharon introduced herself to Mike’s son,
daughter-in-law and the grandkids Kate and Ben. ‘I think I’ve seen you guys in the supermarket aisle occasionally. Next time I’ll say hi,’ she said.

  ‘Good to see you back on your feet, Jack. Sounds like you were lucky,’ said Sandie.

  ‘Thanks. Yeah, you’re right, I owe these two a lot,’ he said, looking at Pip and then Mike. They smiled in return.

  Mike offered the perennial cup of tea, which everyone else declined. ‘I’ll make a plunger of real coffee, Dad,’ said Sandie as she moved off toward the kitchen.

  They gathered round the dining room table. The kids could be heard outside playing with a cricket bat, and teasing the dogs.

  ‘So, let’s put it all out on the table, everything we know and then see what we should do next, if anything,’ suggested Jack. Over the next hour; Mike, Jack, then Pip, and finally Sharon, downloaded it all. What Sharon told them about the land owners was the real news. ‘I’ll be buggered,’ said Mike and Charlie in unison, before Mike continued, ‘I always suspected those fellas were cashed up and too well organised. Now I understand why.’

  Sharon proceeded to tell them about her police contact and how he now had the photos Jack took and was running some checks. She also mentioned that he was going to talk to someone he knew in ICAC. This news sent a ripple through the room, and Mike said, ‘You’re very well-connected young lady. What if this ICAC fella doesn’t take any notice?’

  ‘I’m glad you raised that because it’s been nagging at me too. It’s one thing to have some photos of their excavator, a suspicious car accident and your arson attack; but what it might come down to is just whatever is it we’ve got on Wellsmore.’

  As Mike was about to answer a gun shot rang out—clearly a rifle from the echo—not the usual bird scaring noise. And it was obviously nearby. Sandie, who had listened quietly up to this point jumped to her feet. ‘Oh my God, the kids,’ she said; rushing to the door, flinging the fly screen open and charging outside. Charlie followed closely after, screaming, ‘Sandie, get down.’