Dead Secret

by Peter Kozmar

  “Andy, stop trying to move. I’m going to turn you over and place you in the recovery position for a few minutes.” It was Dortman again, his calmness betrayed by the clipped intonation he used when stressed.

  Andy gave a slight nod and felt himself being lowered back down to the sand, gently turned over and placed into a more comfortable position. His throat and lungs burned with the salt from the sea water and the acid from his stomach contents. He started to take deeper breaths, but each breath came with a sharp stabbing pain across his chest.

  “I may have cracked a few ribs so he’ll be a bit sore for a while,” Dortman said.

  “Better alive than dead, thank you, Tomas,” came Vladim’s reply. Andy felt a warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Welcome back my friend. You gave us quite a fright.”

  Andy lay still. He couldn’t find the energy or figure out how to communicate with Vladim. He heard someone move away and some minutes later return. “I’ve grabbed a blanket from the car to keep him warm,” Dortman’s voice filtered through.

  Andy smiled to himself when he finally had the strength to make his left hand move, then he tried to flex his right hand.

  “Look, he’s trying to move!” Vladim’s emotion escaped into his voice.

  “It’s okay, we should see if he can sit up, then we’ll wrap the blanket around him,” Dortman replied, his intonation more controlled now Andy was moving. Andy made a huge effort to open his eyes. He saw Vladim and Dortman kneeling on either side of him. Both men helped him to slowly sit up. Vladim wrapped the woolen blanket around Andy to keep him warm.

  “How do you feel?” Vladim asked.

  “Sore, sad, angry with myself …” Andy’s voice trailed off mid-sentence as if the effort to say those few words was herculean and drained him of his energy.

  “Promise me something,” Vladim said, still very emotional.

  “What?” Andy wheezed between his effort to breathe.

  “Don’t do anything stupid like this again!”

  Andy coughed. “Okay,” he said quietly, “but how did you find me?”

  “Last night I had deep concerns about you, so I had Tomas keep an eye on the front entrance of the hotel. This morning you walked straight by him as he sat in the corner. Something about you didn’t look right, so he followed you and called me, giving a running commentary on your route. I jumped in the car and made my way to you.”

  Dortman spoke next. “Alarm bells were ringing as I noticed several times you appeared subconsciously drawn to the water when you were running. You took off when you saw the steps to the beach. I told Vladim he need to get here quickly as you were heading for the water. By the time I reached you, you’d been under for several seconds.”

  “Thanks, I owe you.”

  “Let’s get you on your feet and back to the hotel. I’m parked near the steps,” Vladim turned and pointed. The two men slowly helped Andy up from the sand. Andy felt weak and unsteady on his feet. Vladim saw his legs buckle and he quickly ducked under Andy’s left shoulder and helped support his weight.

  Once inside the Range Rover, Vladim sat beside Andy as Dortman drove them back to the hotel. Dortman parked outside the front entrance of the hotel as Vladim got out and held the door open for Andy. He climbed out without assistance and walked slowly through the entrance of the hotel. Vladim moved quickly and spoke to the receptionist to recover Andy’s electronic room key and asked for the Range Rover to be valet parked in the hotel’s garage. Dortman caught up with Andy and Vladim at the elevators and threw the keys for the Range Rover high into the air for the receptionist to catch easily.

  In the elevator Vladim turned to Dortman. “I’ll stay with him while you get yourself cleaned up,” he said. Dortman nodded. When the three men alighted from the elevator, Dortman turned to the right and headed for his room leaving a trail of water in his wake. Andy and Vladim turned left to Andy’s room.

  Once inside, Vladim turned the lights on and gestured towards to bathroom. “You need to get out of your wet clothes and have a warm shower to bring your temperature up slowly to normal,” he said, adding, “Tomas’s instructions and we don’t want to upset him.” Andy nodded, but didn’t answer and headed for the bathroom, removing his clothes, he discarded them on the floor as he went.

  Moments later he stood in the glass shower cubicle; the warm water washing away the sand and salt from his tired body. As he looked down at his feet, he was shocked to see them etched with angry red scratches and at least three nails were broken. His feet were covered with dark purple and brown bruises. The result of the previous day’s barefoot chase and the badly fitting walking boots.

  Vladim shouted above the noise of the running water, “You know it’s normal to feel crap after what’s happened to you over the last twenty-four hours, right?”

  “Mark would be alive if I’d taken the chopper to the aerodrome to be fixed, but because of my selfish action, he’s dead. If I hadn’t chosen to walk down, he’d still be alive,” Andy shouted back in reply.

  “No, Andy, you’re wrong. The gunman killed Mark. Not you! The gunman acting on orders from someone, killed Mark. You can play the ‘what if’ game all day with me if you want, but it doesn’t change the fundamental truth. You didn’t kill Mark. The gunman did that and he would have killed you too if he’d not underestimated you.”

  “If I’d got there earlier…,”

  “The gunman could have got there earlier. The gunman could have got there two hours, three hours, eight hours earlier. Mark could have been at a different hut. The gunman’s weapon could have had a failure and not fired. We can go on all day. You killed the gunman. He isn’t going to kill anyone else or cause any more pain and suffering. Now there are solid leads to follow to find out who lay behind Mark’s killing. Surely finding out who was behind this and why is important to you?”

  Andy created masses of soapy lather as he rubbed the soap across his body and lost himself deep in his thoughts.

  “My friend, you must talk, share your emotion, your anger and your pain. You must channel the energy in the emotion and use it to find them.”

  “Vladim, I’m so angry. I feel a fury which I’ve never experienced before.”

  “My friend, this may take years to get over. You’ll never be completely free of these feelings because Mark was your son and you are still a father left behind to grieve a tragic loss. It’s like a stone skimming over the surface of a calm lake; when you throw it, the stone has great energy, but each time it briefly skims the surface of the water, it loses energy , when it is spent it stops and sinks to the bottom. The stone still exists, but it has no power. This will be how your anger will feel; today you have just thrown the stone, your anger has great energy, but the anger will, like the skimming stone, lose its energy and release you from its grip; it may still be there in the years to come, but it will not have the same energy as it does today.”

  “That’s very philosophical of you,” Andy replied.

  “It’s Hans. He served in the military and had been on operations in countries where the enemy weren’t easy to tell from civilians. Countries where children were used as suicide bombers and child soldiers. I don’t know what he’s seen or done and I don’t want to know. Tomas supported him through his therapy sessions. Tomas has shared some of the techniques they used to help me deal with my stress.”

  “Maybe I should speak with Tomas or Hans?”

  “If it helps.”

  Andy stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dried himself. He felt calmer and appreciated having his friend nearby. He didn’t want to be alone or in a space where his thoughts could drift. He dressed quickly and grabbed his jacket.

  “You ready for breakfast and maybe a coffee?” Vladim asked.

  “Sure.”

  Stepping into the corridor they met Dortman walking towards them, he’d showered and changed into dry clothes.

  “Breakfast time,” Vladim announced. They headed for the elevators and less than five minutes later
they were sat in a French café ordering strong coffee and crepes.

  Andy turned to Dortman, “Thank you. I don’t know why I did it.”

  Dortman leaned forward so only Andy would hear him and whispered, “Sometimes we find ourselves in dark, lonely places where we feel we have no control. We mistakenly believe there is only one way out, just remember, you aren’t alone.”

  Andy felt a lump form in his throat and he wiped the tears from his eyes. Their coffee and crepes arrived. Before Andy could take the first drink of his coffee, his cell phone rang. Who the heck is calling me? Clearly irritated, he removed his cell phone from his jacket and looked at the display. Hobbs. His irritation immediately evaporated and his mind started to refocus as he answered the call. “Hi Helen. What news is there?”

  “Before I get into what I’ve learnt I want to know how you are?” came the reply.

  “I’m with Vladim and Dortman, they’re making sure I’m okay and we’re about to start breakfast. What have you found?”

  “The pistol was purchased by the Foreign Office of the British Government and sent as part of an aid package to Iraq in the fight against ISIS. On the silencer I found a serial number which was a great help as I was able to track it. The British Security Services, MI6, purchased the silencer three years ago from Krystal Precision Technology, a Czech arms company.”

  “They’re interesting threads. Thank you.”

  “It gets better. I’ve had a hit on facial recognition, but I’d like to be one hundred per cent before I give you the name. To be certain I’ll need better fingerprints because your photos weren’t clear enough. Once I have them, and if I’m one hundred percent right, then I’ll share what I’ve learnt.”

  “Okay. I’ll speak with Carter. She’s with the security services here in Wellington and should have access to our man’s fingerprints.”

  “Thanks Andy. You be careful. From what I’ve learnt, the guy was a pro. He was not acting on his own.”

  “Okay, talk later Helen.” The line went dead, Andy pocketed his phone and started on his crepes.

  ***

  In a darkened room on the seventh floor of the Intercontinental Hotel, The Listener replayed the conversation from his laptop. To help him concentrate, he held the leather cups from the headset firmly against his ears. After listening for a second time to the intercepted conversation, he typed a message into the secure messaging application, hit send.

  Flint was making progress with his investigation and getting the evidence to Hobbs at the CIA was a good move for him. He knew they would use another trigger man or woman to clean up the mess. However, unless they had an asset already in country, or close-by in Australia, he knew he could be re-tasked to kill. The Listener knew he had to wait and then follow his orders.

  ***

  With their plates clear and on their second coffees, Andy asked Vladim if he would join him in returning to the Tararuas. “Why do you want to go back there?” Vladim asked.

  “Mark had a memory stick with evidence on it which may be the reason they were all murdered. I got my hands on it and hid it before I flew out.”

  “Why hide it?”

  “Same reason I took the evidence with me from the crime scene. I didn’t want it to go ‘missing’.”

  Dortman spoke next, “Walking in may be a challenge as the police will probably restrict access to the area. The easiest way for the police to do that is to stop access from the car parks. We’d be turned away long before we get near the site.”

  “What are you proposing?” Vladim asked.

  “You flew out yesterday and we fly in today. We’d be dropped right in where you hid the memory stick.”

  “Great, but before we head out, I need to go back to the hotel and grab my passport to drop off at the Central Police Station,” Andy said, “part of the agreement Alex made to get me out.” With their coffees finished, the three men headed back to the hotel.

  As the three men entered Andy’s room, they were surprised to find a man sat at Andy’s writing desk, reading the morning’s paper: Brad Trojan, wearing his crumpled suit.

  “Err … what are you doing here?” Andy asked, feeling the anger well-up inside him.

  Dortman quickly moved into positioned between Trojan and Andy.

  “You know this man?” Vladim asked.

  “Brad Trojan. CIA Station Chief for New Zealand,” Andy replied.

  “I heard about Mark. I’m sorry. You have my deepest sympathies,” Trojan said.

  “Thanks, but that doesn’t explain why you are an uninvited guest in my private hotel room,” Andy stated.

  “If there is anything you need from me. Let me know.”

  Andy stepped in front of Dortman to face Trojan. Andy towered over him. “You can start by telling me the truth. You’ve been lying to me all along. You told me you didn’t know Mark. Mark had met with you at the Embassy on more than one occasion.” Trojan looked uncomfortable and shifted in his chair as Andy continued, “Why were you and your goons chasing Mark after he came to you for help after the UN office murders?”

  Trojan had the look of a rabbit caught in the headlights as Andy pressed on, “Was the gunman, Craig Jones, one of your assets?”

  “Okay, okay, I admit it. I’ve not been on the level with you, okay?” Trojan held his hands up in surrender before dropping his hands and continuing, “Mark had been to see me a few times. I first met him shortly after he arrived in New Zealand. I respected that he had a job to do, but from a professional perspective we were playing for different teams and the United States Government must never come second.”

  “Why did he come to you? Why did you chase him and was Jones one of yours?” Andy demanded.

  “Mark said he’d come across a video from a secure Russian Government site. The video showed a senior official in bed with two hookers. He wanted the US Government to be aware of it so we could prepare for its release by the Russian Government via one of its many social media proxies. He wanted to hand the video to us in exchange for money and protection. When his office was compromised he came to me for help. I said I wanted the video before I’d help and he ran. We chased. We lost him.”

  Andy took in Trojan’s story and compared it to what he’d been told by Mark. Trojan continued, almost whining, “No, Craig Jones, whoever he is, is not one of my assets.”

  The stories matched.

  “What brings you to my room?” Andy asked as he stepped back from Trojan.

  “Mark had the video. He said he’d hand it over. Do you have the video?” came the reply.

  “No. I don’t. Search me. Search my room.” Andy gestured theatrically with one arm and waved it in a continuous sweep around the room.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Trojan stated matter-of-factly, though Andy wasn’t easily fooled.

  You’ve already searched my room, and decided to sit tight for me to return to take it from me. I don’t think you expected me to have company, he thought.

  “Okay, so what do you want?” Andy asked.

  “If you do come across the video, please hand it over to me, you’d be doing a great service for your country.”

  “If I do find it, you’ll be the first to know, now, if you’ve finished, I have to go to the police station.”

  “Oh yes, to hand over your passport,” Trojan replied, “I think you’ll find that won’t be necessary.”

  “That’s what they told me to do last night and that is what I am going to do. I think your business here is finished and you need to leave,” Andy said as he gestured with his open hand towards the door. Trojan stood and headed to the door. Dortman stepped to one side and allowed him to pass.

  As Trojan opened the door he turned and spoke, “I’ll be in touch. Remember, if you need anything, let me know.” A look of concern spread across his face as he added, “Just so you are clear, if you do have the video and don’t hand it over, you’d be committing an act of treason against your government.” Happy that he’d got his point across, he exited
the room and closed the door behind him.

  Andy would have chased after him if Dortman hadn’t positioned himself in front of the door.

  CHAPTER 22

  Andy walked with Vladim the short distance to the Central Police Station on Victoria Street while Dortman stayed behind at the hotel to organize the helicopter.

  “Andrew Flint to see Inspector Copeland,” Andy stated at the reception.

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “Yes he is expecting me.”

  The receptionist keyed details into their computer, made a call and spoke a few words which Andy didn’t quite hear.

  “He’ll be with you in a few minutes. Take a seat,” the receptionist said as she pointed to a row of blue chairs set against the far wall. The two men sat and waited around ten minutes before Copeland turned up. Copeland looked surprised as he must have expected to see Andy on his own.

  “Mr. Flint, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said without any hint of honesty, “is this another lawyer?”

  “No Inspector. This is a good friend, Vladim Martirossian, we’ve known each other for years and we’d just finished the Milford Track when all this happened.”

  “I see, well I’ve got some good news for you, shall we go somewhere more private?”

  When Andy nodded his agreement, Copeland led them through the security doors to a meeting room and, once inside, Copeland closed the door.

  “Go on.” Andy prompted.

  Copeland didn’t look like a man about to deliver good news, his body language said the opposite. “We’ve decided to allow you to keep your passport. You can leave the country if you wish. We’ve not yet arrived at a decision on whether we’ll be laying charges against you. Public interest. National Security. More questions than answers. That sort of thing.”

  “So what’s happening?”

  “The question on whether we proceed against you has gone to the Attorney General and The Prime Minister for a decision. We’ve made our recommendations. The Commissioner is meeting with them this afternoon. Your lawyer has been busy briefing on your behalf. He’s like a possum in a chicken coop. So we’ll have a formal decision on whether we prosecute you by the end of the day. But, as I said, nothing stops you from leaving the country.”