by Peter Kozmar
“You removed evidence? Tell me you left the drugs,” Carter said, looking as if she couldn’t believe he'd be stupid enough to remove evidence.
“What drugs?” he said without hesitation.
Amy looked annoyed.
Andy continued quickly so she couldn’t cut in and give him a lecture on tampering with crime scenes. “Look, if the anti-depressants were planted, then it’s more than likely the other stuff was planted too, set-up to make Mark look like the villain. Plays to the narrative that he cracked under pressure and killed his team while high on coke!”
“You don’t know that!” Carter protested.
Andy leaned forward and whispered, “Too late, we’ll never know.”
The waiter arrived with their coffees and carefully placed them on the table. Andy took a sip of his. “Mmh, you’re right this is good coffee.”
Carter ignored his comment, she was angry with him and he knew he had to reel her in if he was going to get her back on his side. “But if that wasn’t weird enough, something else came up at Fiona’s place.”
“Go on,” Carter looked up from her coffee and made eye contact.
“Jake said Fiona found something which concerned her enough to flag it with the British Government. She even met with the MI6 agent at the High Commission to share her concerns.”
“Anthony Clement-Bridges,” Carter said, rolling her eyes, “he’s not very dynamic. I think he upset someone in London and got posted as far away as possible. If there had been a position at Scott Base in Antarctica, the British would have put him there, but New Zealand ended up being as far as they could send him.”
“Fiona worked with someone called Tom Evans on whatever they found,” Andy paused and held both palms upwards as if catching raindrops, then dropped his hands and continued, “but he wasn’t murdered at Plimmer Towers, so where is he? Why isn’t he a suspect along with Mark?”
Carter was silent for a moment and leaned back against her chair, “Evans drowned in Wellington harbor a week before the murders. A tragic accident. Apparently, he’d been out kayaking alone and didn’t return. The harbor police were alerted and found his body a few hours later floating face down. They pulled him from the water and pronounced him dead at the scene.”
Andy felt the hope – that there was someone other than Mark in the frame – evaporate. He took another sip of his coffee and allowed the hot liquid to swill around his mouth so he could maximize the impact of the caffeine on his senses. It bought him a few seconds to control his emotions. “Anything suspicious?” he asked.
“Well, no, the police didn’t find anything to indicate foul play. At the inquest, they said he’d been over-confident as he went onto the water on his own and without a life-jacket. He didn’t even tell anyone he was going out on the water. We have a lot of drownings each year and this was put down to just another accident.”
“Don’t you think it’s another coincidence? A week after one of the team dies in the harbor, the rest are gunned down. This doesn’t add up.” He was exasperated, it didn’t appear anyone, other than him was connecting the dots.
Carter paused for a long time before she spoke, “You have a point, but at the time it was put down to an accident. I’ll get you Tom’s address, but next time, if you do find anything suspicious, don’t remove it from the scene.”
“Okay, thanks,” Andy said before continuing, “ so, what have you got for me?” Andy pointed to the brown leather case.
Carter opened the case, pulled out a stack of papers and handed it to Andy. “This is a print out of Mark’s credit card records,” she said tapping the top of the stack. “And this,” she said, reaching into her pocket and producing a USB memory stick, “contains a record of his cell phone meta-data going back 12 months.”
“Great. Have you had a chance to look through any of this?” he asked.
“Yes, I had a cursory look, but nothing jumped out.”
Andy finished his coffee and asked for the check.
“Is there anything else you need from me?” Carter asked.
“Can you ask Copeland who tipped them off to raid Mark’s home?”
“I don’t understand?” Carter replied looking puzzled.
“As I left, the police arrived. They were armed and had drugs dogs. Can you speak with Copeland and find out who tipped them off for the raid?”
“Maybe it was just a coincidence?” Carter replied.
“What? A bit like Tom’s death?” Andy said leaving her with no doubt about what he was thinking.
CHAPTER 10
Andy stuck a large map of New Zealand on one of the walls in his hotel room. He’d prepared to use round colored sticky patches to identify where Mark’s cell phone had pinged off a tower. The USB stick contained weekly data dumps from his service provider. Each dump contained records of which cell towers he’d connected to and each of the phone numbers he’d called together with the dates, times and call durations. The data dumps also detailed the message content for all his messages. For each new cell tower Andy stuck a colored sticky patch on the map at the location of the cell tower. It didn’t take long for Andy to realize there were too many entries for Wellington and had to stop adding stickers to the local sites.
Andy spent the next three hours searching the map for locations and using his stickers. When finished he stood back and studied the map. Andy’s map plotting revealed Mark spent most of his time in Wellington. He’d visited Castlepoint, a small coastal settlement on the east side of the North Island. There were multiple visits to Ohakune, National Park and Mount Ruapehu in the Central Plateau Region at weekends during the ski season. There were two trips to Christchurch and one to Auckland and Queenstown.
Andy found a six-day trip in the Abel Tasman National Park in the South Island and regular weekend trips into the Tararua Mountains. Both these had a start point, then no communications with Mark’s phone and a return to communications some days later. Clearly, the Abel Tasman and the Tararuas were remote locations. The Tararuas were close to Wellington and the map revealed Mark had accessed the area from a number of different places, but the most frequented start point was a place called Mount Holdsworth.
Andy recovered Mark’s hiking log book and studied the entries from Mount Holdsworth. There were a number of huts he stayed at more than once. Andy wrote down, ‘Powell, Jumbo, Neill Forks, Totara Flats, Sayers, Kime, Alpha, Cone and Tutuwai.’ Andy used the search engine in his laptop for Mount Holdsworth and the Tararuas. A series of options were presented. As Andy selected the first link, his cell phone rang.
“Hello,” he said, absentmindedly.
“Hi Andy, it’s Amy Carter. I’ve got Tom Evans’s address.”
“Oh, hi, hang on while I get a pen,” he said, lifting paper to find his opened his notebook, “Okay, go on.” Carter rattled off the address and he repeated it back before ending the call and looking at map, quickly locating Eastbourne, on the far side of Wellington harbor, nestled between steep hills and the sea. He looked at his watch, he was hungry having not eaten breakfast, lunchtime had also somehow come and gone.
Using the information Carter had provided he’d made good progress in understanding his son’s activities and concluded that the Tararuas were as good a place as any to search for Mark. Andy sat at his laptop and followed the link which took him to the Department of Conservation website which clearly showed the location of each of the huts on his list on a topographical map.
Since Mount Holdsworth was Mark’s most common point of departure into the mountains, Andy decided he’d start from there. The most logical order appeared to be: Jumbo, Powell, Totara, Sayers, Cone, Tutuwai, Neill Forks, Alpha and then Kime. He could see some of the huts were easily accessible by air, while others could only be accessed on foot and through challenging terrain. With an outline of a plan, he headed out of the hotel and towards the waterfront in search of a cafe for a deli sandwich and soda.
***
Andy looked out over the waterfront as he ate. The water
was calm and clear; the sky a cloudless blue. With the stunning setting, he let his mind wander, a thought crossed his mind. If Fiona had a major issue with the UN and she took it to her own Government via the High Commission, maybe Mark had done the same. He could have reached out to the US Embassy. Andy was overdue for his meeting with Brad Trojan, the CIA Station Chief, to collect data on Mark’s emails, phone calls and social media activity which Hobbs had arranged.
He googled the location of the US Embassy and, on seeing it was in Thorndon near the pharmacy he’d visited earlier, he knew it would take about twenty minutes. He paused to check the weather forecast for the next few days and smiled, it looked good. With his sandwich devoured, he paid the check and started walking along the waterfront in the direction of Thorndon. He called Carter and she answered within two rings.
“Hi Andy, how can I help?”
“I need a helicopter tomorrow morning to get me into the Tararuas so I can search for Mark. Can you set that up for me?” he asked.
“Okay, I’ll have it pick you up from the helipad on the pier, opposite Shed 1, the Indoor Sports arena. It’s easy to find as it’s across from Fergs Kayaks.”
“Great. I’ll need it on and off for the day,” Andy said.
“Okay, be at the helipad for eight-thirty.”
“Thanks.”
There was a pause on the line before Carter continued, “Andy, look, I’m sorry for earlier and the raid. We really want to help, they didn’t tell me in advance, Keith said they got an anonymous tip-off which they acted upon.”
“Thanks, I know it wasn’t down to you, it just seemed very conveniently staged.”
“I’ve had the team pulling out all the stops and we’ve got the CCTV footage ready for you to watch. I’ll meet you as arranged at four o’clock at the Central Police Station?”
“Great, I’ll see you there,” Andy said as he ended the call and stepped up his pace.
***
In a darkened room on the 7th floor of the Intercontinental Hotel, the Listener removed his headphones and rubbed his eyes. He’d had a long day gathering information and pulling the threads together from Flint’s digital footprint. The cyber security software he used with its worms, trojans and ghost identities enabled the Listener to easily compromise all but the most secure devices connected to the internet. Flint’s cell phone had quickly surrender his photos, messages and emails. Flint’s online accounts and content libraries offered no resistance and were soon available at the fingertips of the Listener. The only real delay he faced was when downloading positional data which mapped Flint’s exact location every five minutes for the last six months from Flint’s smart watch and cell phone. It only took three key presses for the Listener to be notified of each call Flint made or received. The Listener had the option to eavesdrop in real time or play it back at his leisure. For this operation, his orders were simple, everything was real time. The Listener studied his notes before he wrote and sent his own secure email.
***
Andy approached the Guardroom of the US Embassy where a Marine in dress uniform sat behind thick ballistic glass.
“Andy Flint, here to see Brad Trojan.”
“Do you have an appointment?” the Marine asked in a slow Southern drawl.
“No, but he’s expecting me,” Andy said.
The Marine looked skeptical, then shrugged, “Can I see some identification, please, sir?”
Andy reached into his jacket and placed his passport into the chute which fed below the security screen. The Marine removed Andy’s passport, thumbed through the document checking it for signs of tampering and settled on the ID page where he studied the photograph. He changed his gaze and focused on Andy with a dead-eye stare, then held the passport up and compared the image to the man in front of him. He placed the passport down, picked up the phone and punched in a number from memory.
“Mr. Trojan. This is PFC Kozawski in the Guardroom. I have an Andrew Flint at the front desk, says he doesn’t have an appointment, but that you’ll see him. Can you confirm this is correct?” Kozawski listened carefully. “Yes Mr. Trojan.”
Kozawski hung up and slid the passport back into the security chute for Andy, “Mr. Trojan says he will see you. Please enter the Guardroom when you hear the buzz.” Andy stepped to the right, listened for the buzz from the lock and pushed the door open.
Once inside the Guardroom he was faced by two more Marines wearing side-arms. To one side sat a large x-ray machine, like those used at airports. Kozawski stared at Andy from behind another screen of ballistic glass as one of the two Marines, whose name tag said ‘Donnelly’, stepped forward, “Sir, are you carrying any firearms or explosives?”
Andy thought this an odd question, surely the machine was good enough to detect them, but he needed to get inside so he answered, without any attempt at humor, “No.”
“Sir, please remove all items from your pockets and place them in the tray. Then take your jacket off and place it in the tray. If you have a cell phone, include it in the tray. Do you understand my instructions?”
Andy nodded that he understood and followed the brief to the letter. The second Marine, whose badge said ‘Armstrong’, took his position on a seat behind a large monitor and watched the color image from the scan of Andy’s items. The tray slowly rolled out of the scanner.
“Sir, just stay there and put your arms out to the side,” Donnelly instructed.
Andy held his arms out as Donnelly stepped forward with a handheld wand and slowly worked the device around his body. The wand beeped as it passed over his belt and beeped again as it passed over his watch. Donnelly looked closely at Andy’s belt and watch before finishing his security sweep. “Sir, you can put your arms down,” he said when he had finished.
“Sir, Mr. Trojan will be with you shortly. If you can make your way to the main reception, through the next door and a short walk across the compound, Mr. Trojan will meet you there,” Kozawski informed him through the glass, “do not deviate from the path.”
Andy nodded and stepped towards the plastic tray to recover his items.
“Sir, you need to leave the phone with us. You can collect it on your way out,” Armstrong said.
Andy picked up the phone and powered it down. He closed its leather case but didn’t press the popper to firmly hold the case closed, then handed the device over. Andy headed for the door, he saw Kozawski press a button on his control desk, there was an electronic buzz and Andy pushed the door open, exiting into the compound.
He quickly covered the thirty meters or so between the two buildings. He knew he was being closely watched as there were several cameras on the buildings covering every corner of the compound. He made sure he didn’t deviate from a straight course so he didn’t get their attention. He reached the entrance door to the main building and felt a sense of relief when he heard an electronic buzz and saw the door click open a fraction.
Andy pulled the solid wooden door open and stepped into an airy reception complete with two armed Marines; their uniforms immaculate right down to their highly-polished black shoes which looked like shiny black glass. Once through the entrance door, he faced a security booth, and, through another window of thick ballistic glass he saw two more Marines.
“Sir, how can we help you today?” one of the Marines in the booth asked. His name tag stated he was ‘Saunders’.
Knowing that Kozawski had already phoned through his intentions, Andy fought hard not to respond with an attempt at humor, instead, he stuck to the tried and tested simple response, “I’m here to see Brad Trojan.”
“Sir, let me see if he’s available.” But before the Marine could lift his phone, the connecting door opened and in walked a short plump man wearing a tan suit, white shirt and plain brown tie. His brown shoes looked scuffed and his hair hadn’t seen a barber for some months. Trojan offered a complete contrast to the towering, square-jawed Marines.
“Mr. Flint? Great to finally meet you. I’m Brad Trojan. Helen told me to expect
you.” Trojan offered his hand for Andy to shake. Andy did so and was welcomed with Trojan’s sweaty palm and weak grip.
“Mr. Trojan …,” was about as much as Andy could manage while trying hard to restrain himself from drying his hand on the side of his trousers!
Trojan smiled at Andy, “Follow me.” He then turned to the Marines, “At ease men.”
Andy watched as the Marines glanced at one another as though sharing a private joke. Trojan led Andy to a small, windowless, meeting room which had a screen displaying the crest of the State Department and video camera set onto one wall. A wooden table was set with four high-backed leather chairs. “Please take a seat,” Trojan gestured as he sat down on the opposite side of the table.
“Wellington’s a small, beautiful city, did you ever meet my son, Mark?” Andy asked.
“Why do you ask?” Trojan evaded with a question of his own.
“Well being a small city, I’d imagine the American community must be quite tight here. I would have thought almost everybody would know each other.”
Trojan momentarily looked away, then adjusted his gold cufflinks before replying, “Err, no, I can’t recall meeting him. I don’t believe he came to any of the socials the Embassy arranged. Not everyone wants to be reminded of home or be seen as a close friend of the Government.” Trojan’s body language contradicted what he was saying. He could understand Trojan’s point-of-view. Some people left the States to get away. To start a new life for themselves, while others despised the Government and wanted nothing to do with it.
“First time I heard about Mark was when Helen contacted me. I’ve been sent files, which I’ve printed for you.” Trojan said, sliding a thick brown paper file marked ‘Confidential, US Eyes Only’, across the table.
Andy looked down at the CIA crest before opening the file and quickly flipped through it. The file contained all Mark’s emails, call records and social media activity for the last twelve months. “Have you looked through this?” Andy asked.