by Peter Kozmar
“No. It came in overnight, I just had time to print it before you arrived.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about the UN Operation in Plimmer Towers?”
“Not really, we paid no attention to them, they were not on our radar.”
Andy pressed on, “Did you know anyone from the UN station?”
“No. I’ve not had any reason to, like I said, they weren’t on our radar for targeting.”
Andy felt frustrated with his lack of progress. “Okay,” he said, “why do you believe they were murdered?”
Trojan’s smile slipped for a moment as he looked up to a camera positioned in the ceiling at the far corner of the room. As he returned his gaze to Andy, his smile re-fixed itself, he leaned back against his chair, held his palms upwards and shrugged, “To be honest with you, I don’t know. Your best chance of finding out is to find your son.”
Andy re-opened the printed file from Hobbs, “Can I take this away with me?”
“No, I’m sorry, it’s a sensitive document and can’t leave the Embassy.”
Andy started to quickly skim read the document. It was a particular skill he’d developed at Langley so he could read a document four or five times faster than a normal speed reader. With the help of the specialist educators at Langley, Andy had also learnt to read text presented to him upside down and more impressively, upside down and in Russian.
“I understand,” Andy replied, not understanding why the material in the file on Mark would have been that sensitive. Trojan could have been helpful and wasn’t. Andy knew the anger and aggression he felt wouldn’t help, he needed to calm down, Andy changed the topic of conversation. “Do you know Chuck Boston?” he asked while he read.
Mark’s social media feeds didn’t show anything unusual. Most of the pictures were of him climbing mountains, snowboarding or kayaking with an occasional night out with friends thrown in.
“Yes, I met him a few times at Langley. I thought he was a bit of a creep, I couldn’t believe what happened to him. The Agency quietly dropped him without any support. I hear he’s doing twenty-five to life. I don’t suppose prison for a guy convicted of child sex offences is going to be easy.” Trojan replied.
“I’d just been speaking with him before he was taken into custody. He looked pretty surprised when it happened and the cops turned up,” Andy said as he started to look at Mark’s most recent cell phone calls. He saw the call he’d made to Mark when he’d landed in Queenstown, there were a few other cell numbers and some Wellington numbers too which Andy recognized by their zero-four prefix.
“Were you a close friend of Chuck’s?” Trojan asked.
“He was helping get me back in with the Agency, I found him very supportive,” Andy smiled as he lied.
Two numbers jumped out at him: a Wellington landline; and, a cell phone number from around the time of the attack. Andy went back through the records and discovered Mark had started making calls to those numbers three weeks before the Plimmer Towers attack. He didn’t recognize the landline, but the cell number was vaguely familiar. He couldn’t think why; it would come to him he just needed to note it at the back of his mind for the moment. Nothing else caught his attention. There were no regular numbers, indeed there were very few numbers at all, the report wasn’t as long as others he’d had to go through at speed.
Andy had a feeling of disappointment, the report confirmed to him that Mark had no girlfriend in his life.
“Thanks, I think I’ve seen everything I need, you can keep the files,” Andy said as he closed the file and slid it across the table.
“You were quick. Did it tell you much?”
“No, pity, I thought it might give me a clue, but it hasn’t.”
Trojan picked up the file, stood and gestured to the door. Andy left the room and headed for the exit. Trojan caught up with him before he reached the door and nodded to the Marine in the security booth, who released the lock. Trojan pushed the door open and held it for Andy. The two of them walked to the Guard Room, the door gave an electronic buzz and opened an inch as they reached it. Again, Trojan held it open for Andy.
“I just need my phone and then I’ll be on my way,” Andy said.
Kozawski nodded towards a Marine who stepped towards a small box and made an obvious gesture to show he was recovering the cell phone and handing it to Andy. The clasp on its case now closed. “I’d be lost without this,” Andy waved the cell phone at the Marine. The Marine nodded, but didn’t speak.
“Mr. Flint, it’s been great to meet you. I’ll let Helen know that you’ve reviewed the documents and you were happy with my co-operation,” Trojan said as he held out his hand which Andy shook; his grip still limp and sweaty.
“Thanks for your help, I hope you won’t mind if I call on you for assistance should I need it?”
Trojan looked startled, caught off guard, so Andy rammed it home, “I’m sure Director Hobbs would want that.”
“Yes. Yes, you can call on my help.”
“Great,” Andy smiled and headed for the exit. Since it was a warm afternoon, he decided to walk to the police station. Andy glanced at his watch. He’d be cutting it fine, but Andy was getting used to taking the opportunity to exercise whenever he could and he believed walking was a good form of exercise.
Arriving a few minutes after four at the reception desk, he asked for Amy Carter. He didn’t have to wait long before Carter, accompanied by Copeland, approached him.
“Flint, good to see you,” Copeland said extending his hand. As they shook, Andy received another bone crushing handshake which, after Trojan’s weak and sweaty hand, was almost refreshing. Then, with his free hand, Copeland slapped him hard on the back while he continued to grip his hand, taking Andy by surprise at the informality.
Carter rescued him from his embarrassment, “Keith has booked the video suite for us.”
Copeland broke his grip with Andy, “Okay, let’s go!”
Andy followed Carter and Copeland towards the security doors which led to the elevators beyond. Once inside the elevator Copeland used his access card and selected the third floor.
They entered the video suite, a large, windowless room lit with a dull pastel blue glow, one wall covered in high-resolution screens. Each screen showed a different live view of the city. Andy was suitably impressed with the layout and easily recognized the freeway, the waterfront and Lambton Quay. At the back of the room, he saw two technicians in civilian clothes, sitting behind what looked like a control panel, ready to operate the system.
“Let’s take our seats,” Copeland said. Once they were seated he turned to the operators saying, “Can we start at nine-thirty on the day in question, please? Bring up all views from the cameras around Plimmer Towers.” The screens went black for a moment before returning with what looked like live feed views from any normal day.
“These four central screens show the entrances to Plimmer Towers. The screens further out show the main routes beyond. We’ll be switching views as we go,” Copeland explained.
“Do you have views from inside Plimmer Towers?” Andy asked.
“We’ve got some footage from within the building which we’ll look at later. There’s nothing from the twenty-second floor though and there are no cameras in the stairwells. So, what we’ve got isn’t complete, but no one could enter or leave the building without being picked up on a camera.”
“Okay.”
“There’s Mark!” Carter interrupted as she pointed to one of the screens. Sure enough, they saw Mark dressed in denim pants, a blue hoody and sneakers. He held a coffee in his left hand and his cell phone in his right. He appeared to be engaged in a conversation on the phone as he crossed Lambton Quay and up Plimmer Steps. Mark looked relaxed and happy.
“Do we know who he was speaking with?” Andy asked.
Copeland looked at Carter with a knowing glance before Carter answered, “That’s the last call Mark received, our records show it was you.” Andy felt a lump grow in his throat. He w
ished Mark was safe. He wished he could protect him.
“We have the target coming into view from Plimmer Steps onto Level Four and heading towards the elevators,” one of the operators announced. Andy felt stung at the use of the word target to describe his son, it wasn’t right. The commentary continued, “We lose the target when he gets into the elevator. There was no one else waiting by the elevators with him and we know that the elevator went straight up to the twenty-second floor.”
Carter’s voice cut through Andy’s thoughts, “We have a period of twenty minutes before Mark is seen exiting the building on the eighth floor.” One of the screens showed Mark, alone and walking from the elevators to the main exit on Level Eight.
“He’s heading towards Gilmer Terrace,“ Carter said. Another screen showed Mark crossing the access road and head to the right, towards a car park.
“Where does this lead to?” Andy asked. A screen on the far right changed its content from a video feed to a map of central Wellington. The center of the map showed the car park on Gilmer Terrace.
“Do you have footage from the car park?” Copeland asked.
The main screen changed to show the view from inside the car park. The footage was black and white, but good enough to identify Mark as he walked quickly passed the camera. Another view showed Mark approaching the stairwell. All exits from the stairwell were covered. They showed Mark alone in the stairwell, there was no chance of losing him. They watched as Mark exited the carpark via The Terrace, one of the busier roads in the city. A screen on the right showed Mark walking towards the camera, reaching for his cell phone and make a call. An instant later this view was presented front and center.
“Where is this?” Andy enquired.
“Identify the target on the map,” Copeland instructed the operators.
A small red circle appeared on the map. An arrow indicted the direction of Mark’s travel. Andy could see from the map that Mark had chosen a very public route walking past several prominent government buildings. This didn’t have the feel of a man on the run; Mark was highly visible and didn’t care who saw him. The number of Government buildings in the area meant the area was well served by surveillance cameras, making it easy to track as he walked briskly along The Terrace, past The Treasury and The Reserve Bank, heading straight towards parliament. Mark ended his call and pocketed his phone.
“Where’s he going? He doesn’t live on this side of town,” Carter said.
“Who did he call?” Andy asked.
Carter started looking through her paperwork, “That’s unusual, it’s unregistered. No name against it.”
“Can you find out who is paying the bill for it?” Andy suggested. Carter nodded to Andy, stood and left the room.
Mark walked through the parliament grounds, his route taking him behind the Beehive and around the rear of the parliament buildings skirting the impressive Parliamentary Library, before the cameras picked him up again walking confidently passed two parliamentary security guards without as much as a pause. Mark turned left onto Molesworth Street; the camera views changed and tracked him heading towards the Thai Embassy.
“Here we go,” Copeland announced. However, Mark kept moving. He gave only a cursory glance through the high fencing at the modern embassy building.
“What else is along this road?” Andy asked.
“The Police National Headquarters, the Ministry of Health and the US Embassy,” Copeland answered. “We know he didn’t hand himself in, so that rules out the Police HQ, I can’t imagine he needed to speak to someone about public health policy, so my guess is the US Embassy.”
“Okay, let’s see what he does,” Andy replied.
Mark walked passed the Police HQ without even a sideways glance. He didn’t break his stride as he headed across Murphy Street and straight for the entrance to the US Embassy. Several screens showed different views of the US Embassy as Mark approached the guardroom. They watched as Mark appeared to speak with one of the Marines.
Unlike Andy, Mark didn’t step inside, instead he stepped away and paced backwards and forwards on the sidewalk for a few minutes. Finally, Mark approached the guardroom and appeared to speak with the Marine again. Then, without warning, and with explosive speed, Mark ran away from the Embassy.
“Keep the main view on the guardroom,” Andy said, “I want to see why he ran.”
Carter re-entered the room and, before looking at the action on the screens, said, “The number Mark called is paid for by the US Embassy. I found it’s used by someone called Brad Trojan.”
Trojan! Andy looked at his cell phone and checked the number he’d been given for Trojan, then recalled the number he’d seen in the Embassy files. The number looked familiar. Trojan had lied. He did know Mark.
They watched as two men in suits burst out of the guardroom, their arms pumping hard as they ran in the same direction as Mark. The video footage showed they were carrying pistols in their right hands. Andy looked back towards the guardroom to see Brad Trojan step out into the street from the guardroom entrance, but, unlike the two goons, he wasn’t built to run. Trojan looked pissed.
Andy frowned at the footage he was watching which only gave rise to more questions than answers.
CHAPTER 11
“He’s guilty of something!” Copeland stated, then, when he saw Andy’s reaction, added, “Why flee the crime scene and run from the Embassy? We need to bring your boy in and keep him safe so he can tell us what’s going on.”
“Hold on, let’s not jump to hasty conclusions,” Carter cut in, to calm the waters before Andy could say anything, “time-stamp this point and go back to Plimmer Towers at nine-thirty-five. Show all entrances and exits.” The screens went dark for several seconds before lighting up with the scene from earlier.
“What are you looking for Amy?” Copeland enquired.
“Just run it. I’ll direct.”
The video feeds started. There weren’t too many people coming and going. They watched again as Mark entered the building via Plimmer Steps. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary except, at nine-forty-five, a maintenance man appeared on the stairwell on Level Seven and exited the building. “Stop!” they all shouted in unison; the feeds stopped abruptly.
The maintenance man wore dark blue coveralls and a dark baseball cap which concealed his face from the cameras. Slung over his right shoulder, a small black backpack. All Andy could deduce from the image was the figure on the screen was male, Caucasian and of average height. Because of his baggy coveralls, they couldn’t tell his build, but by the way he moved Andy could tell the guy probably kept in good shape.
“Who’s this?” Andy asked.
“No idea, let’s follow him,” Copeland replied.
The feeds showed the maintenance man duck out of view for maybe a minute. He reappeared on a different screen, the video feed showed his back, but he’d lost his coveralls and cap. He now wore a dark business suit. The backpack looked slightly bulkier.
“Sneaky,” Andy muttered under his breath.
The man walked up the stairs to the car park on the eighth floor and disappeared from view again.
“What’s going on?” Copeland asked.
Carter’s phone beeped, she looked at the screen’s message and ignored it.
“There is no footage from within the car park. The cameras around this area had been vandalized and haven’t been repaired,” one of the operators replied.
“Widen the view, so we can see where he pops up,” Carter requested. The screens changed to show the area around the car park and within Plimmer Towers. They continued to watch for a full ten minutes with no sign of their new target.
“He’s flown,” Copeland stated, “where did he go?”
“So, we have another person of interest … it’s not just Mark in the frame now,” Andy said, certain that despite his best efforts, his relief was tangible to those around him.
Carter’s phone started to vibrate on the table as a call came in and broke the tension in the r
oom. Andy watched as Carter picked up the phone and briefly looked at the screen before sending the caller to voicemail. With the interruption dealt with she replaced her phone on the table.
“Your son’s not off the hook yet,” Copeland stated bringing everyone’s attention back to the room. “Go back to the time-stamp at the Embassy, let’s see where your boy went.”
The screens changed back to Mark running from the Embassy, leaving Trojan standing in the middle of the empty street. “Can we get back to the target on Murphy Street?” Copeland requested. The views switched to show Mark running away from the Embassy and over the highway bridge. His two pursuers were just entering the picture. Mark was younger, fitter, and a better runner than his pursuers so quickly ran out of their line of sight. He sprinted along Park Street, turned right onto Grant Road and disappeared from view.
“Where’s he gone?” Copeland demanded, looking towards the operators.
“We’re outside the area of surveillance coverage, sir,” came the reply, “we don’t have any cameras that far out.” Now Copeland looked pissed. The video feeds continued to roll, picking up the pursuers, who’d stopped running and were frantically looking up and down the street. It would have been comical if it hadn’t been so serious. The pursuers holstered their weapons with one of them reaching for his cell phone and making a call while they continued to look in gardens and behind parked cars. They searched without luck for any signs of Mark. After a several minutes, they too moved out of range.
The tension returned to the room as each of them ran through what they had just witnessed on the screens and what it all meant. Andy was in no doubt that the appearance of the maintenance man threw doubt on Mark’s guilt. He was also aware that it could be seen as Mark having an accomplice so there was still some way to go before he could prove Mark’s involvement. Andy turned to Copeland, “This has been an interesting experience. Can you get some screenshots of our mystery man and send them to me? It would be helpful to have them on file if I need to refer to them later.”