Dead Secret

by Peter Kozmar

  “Ginger Beer, with ice please,” Andy said, now aware that his relationship with alcohol was never going to be positive and, no matter how far he walked in the wilderness, it was still going to be a challenge every time he had temptation placed in front of him.

  Having given out the menus their host left them to their deliberations. The trio studied their menus in silence and, when their drinks arrived, they gave their orders. Andy watched as the light faded and the twinkling lights around the waterfront became more prominent.

  “What did you learn today?” Vladim asked.

  “I heard two different versions of what happened,” Andy said.

  “Mmh, interesting. Go on.”

  “The UN are leading the investigation and the New Zealand Police are in a supporting role. I get the impression the police aren’t being consulted and there’s professional animosity between the two,” Andy paused.

  “What else?”

  “The police believe it was a professional hit. No clear video footage of the perpetrator entering or leaving the building. The victims were killed efficiently and died where they fell. The killer moved quickly through the office and used a silenced weapon.”

  “How did they know he used a silenced weapon?” Vladim asked.

  “If they didn’t the noise of the first shots would have given sufficient warning for the remaining the staff to escape.”

  “Makes sense,” Vladim responded nodding thoughtfully.

  “The killer also removed equipment from the server room. The police showed me video of four open cabinets with hardware missing.”

  “And the other version?” Vladim pushed gently, after Andy paused again.

  “Mark was depressed and a drug addict, he’d had a bad day and snapped. In the process he shot everyone and stole the hard drives which had the video of him shooting his co-workers. This version has Mark suffering from PTSD, and depression and high on illegal drugs at the time. By the time I got to the scene, the office had been thoroughly cleaned and all evidence removed from the desks. Only one server was missing hardware, unlike what I saw in the police footage.”

  “What? They covered up the fact the other servers had been compromised?” Dortman asked.

  “Yes, why hide that?” Andy asked, out loud.

  Their host returned carrying their meals. He carefully placed their chosen plates in front of them before asking, “Is there anything else I can get you? More drinks?”

  Vladim looked at Dortman and Andy, then shook his head, “No, we’re good for now.”

  Dortman leaned back in his chair and looked out of the large glass window before he spoke, “Something doesn’t add up. Two events happened in the UN office. First, everyone in the office was killed. So, were one or more people in the office the target for assassination? Or was it because of the hardware and the data it contained. Which leads to the second event: the removal of equipment from the server room. Could one of the team have found something which cost them their life and the lives of the rest of the team? The gunman silenced the person who found the material and then removed the material itself. Your man from the UN wants to cover this up, that’s why he’s only admitting to the office security archive being stolen. This makes it easier to blame your son.”

  “If they have what they came for, is Mark is safe?” Vladim asked.

  Dortman responded almost apologetically, “No. We can’t assume the killer found what they were looking for. Also, from what Mr. Flint has described, the UN would like to see this pinned on Mark.”

  They started eating their meals and made small talk away from their main topic of conversation. When their meal was finished and their plates were cleared away, they ordered coffee’s.

  “Where do you think I should focus for the next few days?” Andy asked.

  “You already know what to do. Visit the home of each of the team and build up a picture to figure out why they were killed. Find out what data was on the equipment which the gunman took … then find your son,” Dortman replied.

  “Remember, the killer has a head start on you,” Vladim added.

  Andy knew they were right, he needed to figure out how to get access to the homes without raising the alarm. He also had to find Mark and make sure he kept his promise to Jane.

  CHAPTER 6

  Andy skipped breakfast so he could get to Mark’s rental in the suburb of Kelburn, a suburb of Wellington, located on the other side of the city to the hotel. He jumped into a waiting cab which soon climbed out of the city and into the surrounding area which looked down on the waking city. With no breeze and brilliant blue skies, the harbor had a smooth, mirror-like appearance in the early morning sun.

  The cab stopped on the road next to a white letterbox showing the number 42, Mark’s street number. He paid the driver, giving him a generous tip, before getting out and standing on the sidewalk as the cab drove away. Andy looked around, most of the houses in Wellington appeared to be built on the steep hillsides surrounding the harbor. Impressive wooden supports, fixed deep into the ground, provided a solid footing for the structures and allowed the buildings to somehow float in mid-air.

  Mark’s rental was perched at the top of a steep set of steps bordered on one side, by a freshly-painted white picket fence, with a well-manicure hedge on the other. The single story, 1920’s timber house looked pretty much unchanged since it had been built, save for a new green tin roof and a lick of paint. The windows were large and lacked double glazing. A metal chimney stack told Andy it had a solid fuel fire and no climate-controlled heating. He couldn’t live in a house like this in a modern city.

  Andy knocked loudly on the front door, the large frosted glass panel amplified the sound. After a long pause, he knocked again. With no signs of any answer, Andy stepped back and looked for the likely hiding place for a spare door key. He looked under the doormat and under two plant pots without success.

  He looked further out and noticed a stone at the edge of the lawn, looking out of place, as there were no other stones even near the lawn. He picked it up and knew by Its weight and texture, that it was artificial. Andy turned it over and found a plastic cover with the house key nestled inside. Using the key, he unlocked the front door and entered the house.

  A quick glance revealed no visible alarm panel. No alarm panel meant no alarm system. He was relieved at not having to work through a screeching alarm and all the unwanted attention it would bring. The house felt cold and still. He didn’t think anyone was at home and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He turned and faced a narrow passageway, at the end of which was a surfboard and mountain bike caked in mud from its last outing. To be absolutely certain he was alone, he called out: “Hello?”

  No reply. Silence.

  Andy walked through a door on the left and found himself staring at a life-sized poster of Arnold Schwarzenegger wearing dark sunglasses and an open leather jacket revealing his hairless chest and holding a large semi-automatic pistol pointed upwards with his index finger curled around the trigger. He was in the lounge, the poster was the only thing that stood out from the usual furnishings. He turned and walked towards the door on the opposite side of the passageway.

  He turned the handle and the door opened into a room with a large bay window. It was furnished with a double bed, a large pine wardrobe, a bookcase and a writing desk. The plain brown curtains were pulled back allowing the morning sunlight to attempt to enter the room through the yellowing net curtains hung for privacy. A faint scent of cologne hung in the air.

  Mark’s room.

  Andy noticed a corkboard on one wall littered with photos, paper notes and to-do lists. He moved to take a closer look. There were photos of Mark enjoying the great outdoors, a few party scenes and one of him standing in Times Square posing next to the Naked Cowboy.

  A large, thin, curved-screen connected to a laptop sat on top of the desk; the sound fed through a modern music system with tall thin speakers positioned either side of the set-up. “Okay, son, give me a clue on h
ow to find you,” Andy said to himself as he powered up the laptop, but was stopped in his tracks when asked for a password; he switched it off disappointed that he didn’t know nearly enough about Mark to have an inkling of what this could be.

  He turned his attention to the desk and opened the top drawer. There were three boxes of prescription-only medication. Andy carefully pick them up and studied the labels, Terpiazan, Amoxicillin and Prozac; they had been dispensed to ‘M Flint’ by a local pharmacy. This wasn’t good news. The tablets would support Durand’s case against Mark.

  He put the boxes in his pocket knowing they would be essential when he found him as it would be too dangerous to return to the rental to collect them if Mark did need them. Underneath where the prescription boxes had been were a number of magazines. Andy reached in and removed them. The top one was a New Zealand hunting monthly. The next related to the supernatural, its headline: ‘Are your thoughts your own? The power of telepathy!’, the front page also alluded to a major feature on UFO sightings. The last two magazines, were about guns, ammunition and military tactics.

  “Mark, what’s this crap about?” he said to the empty room.

  He was concerned for his son, and wondered if he knew Mark at all. Andy closed his eyes. He felt sick at the thought Mark had serious problems and could have gone off the rails. The guilt at not being there for his son while he was growing up spun around in his mind driving him towards an emotional black hole. He took a deep breath and forced himself back to this moment. Mark needed him to be his biggest advocate and it wouldn’t be good for Andy to lose it and reach for the bottle. Whatever he had or hadn’t, done Mark need his father. And Andy, for all his faults over the years, had a chance to be there when Mark needed him. He opened his eyes and looked at the magazines again.

  The evidence was starting to look a little too convenient. Andy knew Mark had been one of the top shots in his unit and would have been an experienced marksman, but this had all been put behind him when he resigned his commission in favor of the job at the UN. So what’s with all the magazines on guns and military tactics lying just out of sight but within easy reach? It didn’t feel right, Andy knew his instincts were good, but was the oddness down to him being a father or was there really something more sinister going on?

  Andy went over to the bookcase and studied the material. There were numerous guidebooks about New Zealand and adventure guides. A few books on hiking, mountain-biking and surfing, along with a number of topographical maps and a good quality compass. The maps were arranged in series and there were none missing as far as he could tell. There were no books on weapons or military tactics.

  At the end of the shelf, Andy found a creased looking journal which he removed and opened. He immediately recognized Mark’s handwriting and figured it was his hiking journal with information on all the trips he’d been on, detailing the routes he’d followed, what he thought of the journey and a description of the huts and campsites he’d stayed in. Andy pocketed the book to study later.

  He pulled out his cell phone and took several pictures of Mark’s corkboard, his desk, the books on the shelves and some wider photos of the room in general. He wasn’t convinced the scene was clean and he wanted a record of what he found so he could have a reference point should the need arise.

  He walked down to the next room on the left, it was the kitchen and looked in need of some serious care; the cheap wall units were grimy and splattered with specks of dried food of various colors. The benchtop was peeling in places where it wasn’t hidden under numerous take-out boxes containing the remains of half-eaten meals which were showing signs of age. He was reminded of the state of his apartment the day Dortman had entered.

  Andy approached the large, relatively new, fridge/freezer. Magnets held a shopping list and several photos to the door. The shopping list looked more of memory jogger listing toilet rolls, disinfectant and shaving gel. Andy studied the photos. There were mountain views, beaches and in the last one, Mark with a woman about his age. They were both carrying backpacks and smiling into the camera from beneath their baseball caps. They looked like they were enjoying each other’s company.

  He opened the fridge door and found it well stocked with beer and white wine. There were a few staples: a half empty carton of milk, a few eggs and an open pack of bacon. Andy removed the milk carton, opened it and the smell of soured milk filled his nostrils. He looked for its best before date, which confirmed it should have been chucked out days ago! He put the milk back and closed the door. The sink was full of plates stacked high waiting to be cleaned, the food was well and truly dried on. Andy had seen enough. He walked out of the kitchen into the passageway.

  He turned the handle on the next door on the right, it wasn’t locked, so he pushed the door open. The room looked more of a junk room than a bedroom. Four suitcases were pushed against one wall and cardboard boxes took up the rest of the space on that side of the room; they were piled two high, three boxes wide and two deep. A large pine wooden wardrobe with no doors, was standing in the middle of another wall; its hanging space filled with ironed shirts, pants and a few dark suits. Andy noticed the room had no bed.

  To one side of the wardrobe stood an ironing board, the iron upright and ready for action once plugged in. A washing basket next to the wardrobe was piled high with clothes waited to be ironed or put straight into drawers. Andy couldn’t get further into the room due to an obstruction behind the door. He peered round the door and saw a large high-tech rowing machine. He closed the door and continued down the passageway.

  Entering the last room on the right he found the small box room with a single bed made up ready for use. The room looked unoccupied. There was a pile of hiking gear dumped on the floor in one corner. Andy could make out two small tents, a sleeping bag and assorted clothing, but that wasn’t what caught his eye.

  His attention was drawn to a small bag of white powder which lay open on the dressing table, the only other furniture in the room. A faint, thin line of the powder tracked across the surface. A credit card was lying next to it with small specks of white giving the impression that it had been used to cut the powder. The credit card was lying, conveniently, with the name of the holder clear for the world to see: M FLINT.

  “Coke?” he said as he shook his head.

  He thought for several seconds as to what he should do next. He took photos of the room and several of the desk, white powder and credit card. He went back to the kitchen where he grabbed a kitchen cloth and ran it under the cold tap. He picked up a dry tea towel and looked in the drawers until he found a pack of plastic bags. He pulled out two and put the package back.

  He returned to the room and carefully sealed the bag with white powder before putting it inside one of the clean plastic bags and then into his pocket. Not wanting to leave any evidence, Andy wiped away all traces of the powder from the dresser and using the tea towel, he rubbed the surface dry so there was no evidence. He wiped down the credit card and put it in the second plastic bag before pocketing that too.

  Satisfied he’d cleared away all evidence of the white powder, he went back to the kitchen and washed the cloth thoroughly using the nearby washing-up liquid. He put the wet cloth in the cupboard under the sink amongst a packet of new cloths. He did the same with the tea towel putting that under the pile of clean ones he’d taken it from.

  “Time to for me to leave,” he said to the empty house.

  Andy headed for the front door, locked it and stepped into the bright morning sunshine. He used his cell phone to arrange an Uber ride back to the waterfront, then used the time before it arrived to carefully place the key in its hiding place where he’d found it. A few minutes later the ride arrived.

  As they drove away, five police cars turned into the street and stopped at to the curb where he’d just been standing. Andy turned and watched as a dozen heavily armed officers, together with a large black Labrador, made their way up the steps to start their raid. He turned round smiling to himself that he’d
disrupted the set-up, but the question remained: Who was trying to set Mark up.

  CHAPTER 7

  Andy’s ride dropped him off by Chaffers Dock, a short distance from Te Papa. The waterfront was busy with cyclists, joggers and office workers all sharing the wide walkway, enjoying the sunshine and waterfront while they occupied their thoughts with their day ahead of them. Andy decided he’d look around and appreciate the views.

  To his left, the shimmering glass and steel from the modern office blocks towering over the waterfront, dwarfed themselves, by the bush-clad hills framing the city. In front, the harbor, its surface still, with the glass-like appearance he’d observed earlier. Across the other side of the harbor, a large ferry slowly cast off from its berth and maneuvered into open water. Andy watched the ferry for a few minutes and noticed another, smaller, ferry out in the main harbor, heading towards Matiu/Somes Island.

  Andy headed to the entrance of Te Papa and followed the signs to the rest rooms off to the right. The museum was quiet, having just opened. Andy found the rest room empty. He selected the first cubicle and locked the door. He removed the plastic bag which contained the bag of white powder, opened it carefully then upturned it shaking the contents into the toilet bowl, which had the strong smell of cleaning liquid. Once the white powder had dissolved, he dropped both plastic bags which held the drugs into the bowl, hit the flush and watched the bags disappear. Satisfied the incriminating drugs had gone, he left the cubicle and washed his hands, using more hand wash than necessary, before exiting.

  He stepped out of Te Papa into the sunlight feeling a bit less stressed now he’d dealt with the white powder. He removed the boxes of medication from his pocket. He examined the labels. All were issued from the same pharmacy in Thorndon, each prescribed by a Dr. Matthews. He checked his phone for directions to the pharmacy. It was a twenty-five minute walk, mostly along the waterfront, or a ten minute Uber. As it was such a nice day, he opted to walk. It felt good to have the opportunity to stretch his legs after being cooped up in meetings the day before.