2014 Year of the Horse

by Liliane Parkinson

  The tail was in place outside the hotel when Brady left for his afternoon appointments. While under observation Brady addressed several meetings and met with the coordinators of Change Maker groups in the area. There was nothing unusual about his activities. Each evening the photos of the people whom he met landed on Pania’s desk. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack but on the second day Pania had her first lucky break. She noticed that Brady arrived at a meeting with a briefcase and left without one. She went back over the previous day’s photos. Six black briefcases had mysteriously gone missing or was there only one briefcase which mysteriously found its way back to him? It was worth investigating to see what was really going on. The tail was asked to obtain more photographic evidence. In the late afternoon of the third day he boarded a plane for the USA.

  Knowing it was Brady’s last meeting, police set up roadblocks, ostensibly testing breath alcohol levels. While Brady was on his way to the airport the police detained his last companion and confiscated a briefcase. It contained a large amount of money and a quantity of drugs secured in a smaller locked metal box. The woman was arrested and interrogated.

  There was another lucky break. The tail had seen Brady remove the SIM and casually discard the phone into a rubbish bin along with his newspaper. He retrieved the phone. Even without the SIM card communication engineers were able to identify the phone signature. Soon they had a list of all the numbers Brady had called but none were registered. A trace was put on each number.

  Meanwhile Pania had informed border control and asked them to pay special attention to Brady Ambler. His luggage was isolated and scanners examined the contents of the suitcases carefully. Drug detector dogs walked their noses over them and smear samples were taken. All the tests were negative. There was not one detectable whiff of cocaine or opiates and nothing unusual showed up on the scanner. Still Pania decided to ask their American counterparts to scrutinize Brady Ambler’s activities.

  The investigation continued. The rental car was impounded and subjected to forensic testing. The only finger prints they found belonged to the service agent who had inspected the car. Pania felt her suspicions flare and she was glad she had a photographic record of Brady’s activities. Each of his contacts, several of whom were known to police, were identified and in coordinated raids they found themselves sitting in the back of a police car beside a burly uniform, escorted to the station and invited to assist with investigations.

  CHAPTER 38

  The air hostess paused beside Brady, her professional smile in place. He looked very relaxed. He declined the champagne with a confident smile and ordered a single malt whiskey. When she returned with his order, he thanked her and winked. That cheeky wink distracted her from her routine and she felt herself colour. It presumed a degree of familiarity which he did not have. Passengers sidled around her looking for their seats. He took a lingering sip, his eyes locked into hers. She wasn’t sure if he was appraising the single malt or her then he glanced away and she remembered what it was that she was supposed to be doing.

  Brady was pleased with himself. The whiskey was mellow, the hostess pretty and everything was primed and paid for. Wages were in the paymasters’ hands and each project had been given the green light and was now in countdown mode and out of his direct control.

  Brady landed at Los Angeles airport after a very pleasant flight. As he presented his passport, recognition flashed in the officer’s eyes who straightened his back slightly. He asked Brady some questions and spent considerable time looking at his computer screen. Out of nowhere an armed officer appeared. Brady was over 185 cm tall and looked down on most men but this officer seemed to tower over him by at least another 30 cm forcing him to tilt his head slightly to make eye contact. He noted the man’s bulk and height, his rough skin and knew it had been a several hours since his last shave. His eyes were icy blue and his stare so cold that Brady shivered involuntarily. Immigration handed Brady’s passport to the man. He studied it briefly.

  “Mr Ambler?” he stated rather than asked. Brady nodded. “This way please.”

  “What’s the issue officer?”

  “Just a few questions sir. Now follow me.”

  Brady hesitated about to protest further when he felt the man’s fingers grip his arm. He couldn’t quite grasp why the officer was standing over him. He shook his arm free and tried a winning smile.

  “I think it’s best if you come quietly sir.”

  Brady nodded still trying to make sense of this unexpected interruption. They didn’t have far to walk. The officer stood aside and Brady stepped into the small side room. It seemed that they were expecting him. Had he made a mistake, he asked himself or had he been betrayed? No-one knew enough to betray him, Brady was sure of it. So who or what had gone wrong? He was hardly concentrating as one of the officers read him his rights and despite his vehement protests he was arrested, handcuffed and escorted to the Los Angeles Police Cells. Since their tip-off twelve hours earlier, Brady’s activities had been probed and his known contacts were being interrogated.

  Wesley was one of the first to be interviewed.

  He reacted with obvious dismay but had cooperated fully with the authorities, confident there was no substance to the allegations and no incriminating evidence linking him. The officers were somewhat overawed by Wesley’s charismatic presence and found themselves inclined to agree. Some of the officers were ESAP supporters and one had been a PB for several years. ESAP was a hugely respected, true blue American company built on ideals of freedom and equality. It embodied all that was best about the American dream. That one of its leaders might be a closet terrorist was just too preposterous to swallow and they could see nothing about Brady which fitted the terrorist model. Still they had to investigate every accusation. Sniffer dogs were brought in and swabs taken and tested. The results came back clean, no chemical residue and no evidence of drugs or explosives in Brady’s workplace or condominium. They completely their scene examination, thanked Wesley for his cooperation and left. He was pleased to see them go. He secured the door to Brady’s office and returned to his desk but he was troubled.

  Doubts squirmed about unsettling him. What was the man up to, he asked himself? Drugs - terrorism ... whatever next? It was altogether too far fetched. He hoped that Brady had not ... He firmly suppressed those dangerous thoughts. He’d trusted Brady with so much, hadn’t asked any hard questions and now he hoped this would not be something he’d come to regret.

  His mind flitted briefly to Plan B. Brady was not the only one with secrets. He’d listened carefully when the experts had advised him on managing risk. He briefly considered his emergency plans but he couldn’t admit to himself the possibility of needing to go down that path. First he had to get his SIC released and back by his side. He wanted Brady to be free to celebrate the success of their long planned venture.

  He picked up the phone and rang one of his VIP supporters to enquire who would best counter these allegations. By the time he hung up a crack legal team was being assembled and an application for Brady’s release prepared. Despite his apparent confidence Wesley remained worried and uncharacteristically glum. The bond, on top of the funds which Brady had just delivered to New Zealand would empty ESAP’s main account, tipping it into unauthorised overdraft. It was a temporary situation, he told himself. They would get it back. It was the first time this had happened and he felt confident that the bank would release the funds. No doubt they would charge a hefty fee for doing so. He grimaced at the thought and refused to fret over the consequences.

  CHAPTER 39

  Brady stormed out of the LA Police Detention Centre without his passport. He made no effort to hide his rage. People were quick to step out of his way but he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice. What grounds did they think they had? They wouldn’t get away with it, he fumed. House arrest, that’s what the conditions of his bail felt like; prohibited from leaving town and obliged to report in every day. It was humiliating! He felt like
a common criminal. In a few days time they’d be forced to change their tune, he reasoned grimly. Someone would pay. That thought made him feel only marginally better. He flagged down a taxi, slammed the door hard and grunted out his destination. He caught the driver observing him through his rear view mirror and glared back. They rode in silence.

  Brady’s office door received the same rough treatment and the water in his fish tank rocked from the bang. The fish fled to safety hiding amongst water plants, rocks and ruins. He grabbed the phone and dialled. As he waited for the call to be answered his anger boiled.

  “George these charges against me must be dropped.”

  He interrupted George’s stutter.

  “Don’t play the fool George. You know exactly what I mean.”

  More stutter. Brady felt powerful.

  “Then find the right people otherwise… If it’s done, your secret’s safe with me. We both know what I am talking about or do I need to be more specific?” Brady smiled grimly to himself. It was time to call in a debt or two. “By God I’ll bring you down with me I promise. You have a week to fix it.”

  Brady felt better after shouting down the line at George. He felt he was back in control, giving orders and confident that his threats would be effective. Already his thoughts had moved on. The longer he sat at his desk the more his mood improved.

  The fish came out of hiding. He watched an angel fish gliding past the glass, fiddled with the things on his desk, carefully rearranging them and admired his pens. No, not pens, they were his writing instruments. Events were counting down and nothing would stop his plans now. They would be successful. He should reward himself … a new limited edition Montblanc perhaps, or … a date with that hostess. He grinned as he remembered how he’d made her blush.

  CHAPTER 40

  George’s eyes skittered over the crowded departure lounge but no-one was paying him any attention. He kept his responses low and held his newspaper close to his mouth. He hated the way his voice sounded, thin like an over-stretched guitar string. The menacing words in his ear trapped him and he saw his future vanish. The phone clicked in his ear and the line was cut.

  He was glad that he’d been seated when he took that call. It was almost a quarter of a century since he’d spoken to Brady on the phone and yet the instant he’d heard “George!”, he’d recognised the voice and sensed danger sweeping towards him. His body reacted; blood ebbed away leaving his face ashen. His face muscles locked and his teeth ached. Now reaction set in. The woman sitting along from him must have felt the bench begin to shake because she looked up.

  “You all right?” she asked gawping at him.

  George ignored her, still trapped in Brady’s threats. They were only words, he told himself, a few electronic waves surging down a telephone wire and yet he could feel that wire tighten around his neck, constricting his airways. He caught a whiff of his own fear, a sharp unpleasant smell. It swirled around him and seeped from his skin. He could taste it at the back of his throat.

  I haven’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t my fault.

  Like a mantra the words repeated in his head but they lacked conviction and left him troubled. No matter how hard he’d tried, he could not forget. For twenty-four years those memories had played hide and seek in his mind, never buried for long. Brady had not forgotten either. If he obeyed he’d be safe. That thought too lacked real conviction. He would never be safe and George knew it. This wasn’t his first warning. Subconsciously he’d known that time was running out from the moment he’d opened that email. He was on notice that one day, perhaps sooner rather than later, his secret would be exposed. He felt crushed and hopeless, as if the light was being squeezed out of his life.

  Why had Brady chosen this moment from all the previous hundreds of thousands? What had changed? He couldn’t think. When the facts were made public everything would change. He could almost feel his hands manacled behind him, almost hear abusive shouts of scorn and disgust and see the darkness of his cell.

  The loud speaker crackled, advising passengers that boarding was commencing. George sat. He stared blankly at the newsprint he was hiding behind. His thoughts raced chaotically. How had Brady got his number he asked himself? Yet it was as if he’d been expecting that call. Brady had been stalking the fringes of his mind for some time.

  Gradually the room emptied. The woman beside him stood up. She made her way to the check-in and spoke to the hostess. George became aware that they were staring at him and whispering. Their scrutiny added to his discomfort and he forced a smile on his face. It made him look worse. Shaken and feeling sick in his stomach, he pulled himself together and made his way to the counter.

  “Are you all right sir?” the hostess asked as she checked his boarding card and passport. He nodded. “You look upset sir.” She placed her hand lightly on his arm. Instinctively he flinched. “Is everything okay?” He felt her eyes scrutinizing him.

  “Um … I just got a phone call, ma'am, with some … um bad news. I’ll be okay. Thank you. It’s the sh-shock.” He stared at the passport in her hand willing her to return it. She hesitated. The stragglers behind him were getting impatient. He caught the edge of her nod and grabbed his documents.

  “Enjoy your flight Mr Ritmeyer,” she said and turned to look at the next passenger.

  George had never felt this bad before a flight. Normally he enjoyed flying. His UN responsibilities took him far and wide. Being free to travel was part of his job description and he put the idle hours to good use. Without phone interruptions he could concentrate. At least Brady wouldn’t be able to get hold of him, he told himself. He needed to plan and prepare for the meeting. His visit would be brief, an overnighter, planned meetings, a hotel bed and then onto the next flight. For the first time in his life he longed for the familiar comfort of home.

  He continued down the ramp. The corridor sloped unevenly and he tottered as if drunk. He felt bile rise in his throat and was thankful that he hadn’t eaten recently. Thoughts scuttled frenetically in his head. He had absolutely no control over them. What had Brady said? A week? He had a week. A lot could happen in seven days. The words skittered away. He needed to sit and grow calm.

  “Excuse me sir.” The deep voice startled him. He hadn’t noticed the security officer watching him but now his eyes fell on the man’s large hand hovering over his gun.

  “If you’ll come this way please.”

  CHAPTER 41

  George sank with a relieved sign into his seat. It had taken time to persuade the security officer that he posed no risk to the flight. In the small side room he’d been obliged to walk through the x-ray detection system. Not reassured by the machine’s humming silence he had had to endure the guard’s big hands, his cabin bag and pockets turned inside out and his breath analysed. Even then he was not cleared. The officer had insisted on ringing the UN. George had had to answer several security questions before they would confirm that he was who he was. When the hostess was finally permitted to escort him to his seat, the waiting passengers had glowered at him impatiently. One or two even clapped. He felt humiliated.

  The plane finally taxied along the smooth runway. He rested his head against the chair and closed his eyes to shut in his panic. It looked as if he was trying to unwind. Most of those in the cabin appeared to be similarly occupied. Few were able to relax fully until the huge belly lifted. Now that he was on his way the waves of panic began to wash over him again. Despite twenty-four years his body reacted in exactly the same way. He shivered as the evaporating sweat cooled his body temperature. His head pounded. He could feel the throb under his eyelids and behind his eyes. It was impossible to think coherently. He needed a friend to tell him what to do, but he had no-one. He’d made that mistake then but this time he knew there was no-one. His friend had become his enemy. He was a stupid, stupid fool to have ever relied on Brady and what really happened? What had Brady done to fix it? George wished he knew. For years he had refused to open that can of worms, refused to face reality.
There was no security in ignorance. His work had taught him that and yet he’d continued to ignore the facts. Now the threat had returned and it was as if he had learnt nothing. He still had an overwhelming instinct to bury his head in the sand and pray it never happened. It hadn’t worked then, despite what he had believed and it certainly wouldn’t work now.

  An image of Pania floated into his mind. Sometimes his imagination was overactive. He sighed to himself and at the same time felt his spirits lift at the thought of her name. There was Pania walking through his mind, so close he could almost smell her fragrance. He saw her draw her eyebrows together in a frown and heard her say his name with such sad disappointment. He was a miserable cad. She’d believed in him, despite the emails and the intimidation she’d believed and now he would prove her wrong. A coward that was all he was, he berated himself. The belt tightened across his lap as he tried to stand up and it reminded him of where he was. The seatbelt light above him glowed. The plane was still climbing. He had plenty of time to work things out. He sank back.

  The plane landed and George exited. He was met by an English-speaking official who escorted him to the conference centre. He knew no-one and although he looked grey with exhaustion and worry lines crossed his forehead no-one commented. He felt as if he was walking in a bubble. Voices seemed distant and faint. Everything seemed to have slowed down. He just had no energy and despite his efforts he couldn’t shake his inertia. By evening his mind was dead-tired and he hardly remembered the events and decisions of the meeting. He fell onto bed, into a dark, restless sleep.