Dead Secret

by Peter Kozmar

  “Why do you believe he was murdered?” Dortman asked gently coaxing her to help them understand.

  “Tom was a Commando in the Special Boat Squadron. He’d worked with the sea for many years and treated it with great respect. He used to say, ‘she could be your best friend and give you an amazing thrill, but the next minute she could turn on you and take your life’. Tom believed repetitive drills and safety awareness were paramount to making sure you minimize risk. He took his responsibilities seriously, especially if it involved others, to ensure everyone came home.

  “He knew the drills and always followed a set routine before going anywhere near the water. Every time. No exceptions. He’d done it all the years I’ve known him. It was drilled into him in training where it was important everyone took responsibility for themselves and their kit so the team could do their job.” Tash stopped and started to cry.

  Andy gently repeated Dortman’s question, “So why do you believe he was murdered?”

  “It was no accident. That day. The day he died, the conditions were calm on the water, with light winds and a cloudless sky. There were no risks. A child could have kayaked across the harbor that day without a problem. Also, Tom had a routine, and for the first time, it had been broken? Why? It doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  “Go on.”

  Tash cleared her eyes of the tears and blew her nose. She composed herself again and continued. “He didn’t take his Neptune, a good luck talisman,” she explained, “it went with him every time he went in the water. This time I found it in his kit room. That was very odd.”

  “Did you see or hear from Tom before he went out?”

  “No, that’s the other odd thing, he didn’t tell me about being on the water that day. I know his work offers an amazing degree of flexibility, but he always tells me if he’s going into the mountains or onto the water. Hell, I would have gone with him. He knew I was free that day and that was one activity I didn’t mind taking part with him.”

  Maybe Tom was incapacitated before he left the house, transported to the harbor, put in the kayak and capsized so he drowned without regaining consciousness. In the absence of a life-jacket, the police jumped to the conclusion that he’d gone out over-confident and got into difficulties. They didn’t look any further and the Coroner didn’t look for foul play because they also assumed it was a tragic accident. It was a long shot, but it fit with what Tash had just told him. He needed concrete evidence, not just thoughts and suspicions, before he could have a hope of proving the connections. He wasn’t there yet.

  “Could I have a look at Tom’s things? Did he have a study or somewhere he occasionally worked?” he enquired.

  Tash led them to Tom’s study on the side of the house with views towards the harbor entrance and the snow-capped Kaikoura mountains in the distance. Andy thanked Tash as he scanned the room and homed in on the book collection. He wasn’t surprised at the number of military history, action adventure, fitness, outdoors, extreme sports and biographies from ultra-marathon and Ironman legends.

  Andy turned his attention to a wall-mounted corkboard to the left of the large window. It had several paper notes pinned to it, each with brief word or statement:

  World, Trust, Change, O, Votes, Copper Creek and New Order.

  Andy removed his cell phone and took photos of each paper note. Next, he turned his attention to Tom’s desk, positioned below the window. A pad of plain paper covered a large portion of the desk. The paper didn’t have any doodles, instead it had writing in the bottom right corner:

  Kavell, Knight and Schroder, Oliver Knight, Geneva and Prizm.

  Again, Andy took a picture. Dortman peered over Andy’s shoulder and spoke. “Kavell, Knight and Schroder are a top-flight law firm based in Geneva. Oliver Knight is one of the founding partners,” he informed Andy.

  “How do you know that?” Andy asked in surprise.

  “Mr. Martirossian is approached every week by one legal firm or another asking to represent him. They all claim to offer a better, more discrete, service than our current law firm. They usually mention three or four high net-worth individuals they represent.”

  “So much for privacy.” Andy remarked.

  “They all end up speaking with me and I let them down gently. That’s how I know about Kavell, Knight and Schroder, I’ve always politely declined meetings with Oliver Knight when he’s approached us.”

  “Have you heard of Prizm?”

  “No. I can’t help there, I’ve not come across that name before,” he said.

  Andy went through each of the desk drawers and, as expected, drew a blank. He went back into the lounge to find Tash sat, arms folded, staring with a blank expression towards the city. She appeared lost in her own thoughts. He walked into her view and coughed so as not to startle her. “Do you know who Tom worked with at the office?” he asked.

  “He tended to work with only a few of the team, not all of them. Most recently it was Fiona Armstrong. I don’t know what they were working on. I know it was big and they talked a lot about it, but in only private.”

  “What do you mean?” Andy inquired.

  “They wouldn’t discuss it over the phone or in the office. Fiona would come here and they’d use the study with the door closed and talk about whatever it was in there out of prying eyes.” Tash stated.

  “Is there anything else you can share with me? Did Tom leave anything with you?”

  “No. He never gave me anything and you’ve searched his study. Though I think some stuff is missing.”

  “Why, what happened?” Andy wondered who had been through the study before him.

  “The day after Tom’s murder, the police phoned and asked me to head into town to formally identify him. While I was out, some scumbag broke in and stole Tom’s laptop and diary. They also took some cash and Tom’s work phone.”

  Andy was immediately suspicious. That’s a bit convenient. Take the wife out of situation and then search the place. “Did you report the break-in to the police?”

  Tash looked annoyed, “Of course I did! They said it was probably a junkie trying to get money for their next fix. I asked them to consider the two events connected. I told them Tom worked for the UN. You’d think they’d have taken notice, but no, they kept up with the junkie line even though I’d spelt it out for them!”

  “What did their CSI team find?”

  Tash laughed, “They didn’t send the CSIs, or even send an officer to look at it. When I called them for the third time, they just gave me a crime number and told me to phone my insurers.”

  “Tash, I would appreciate it if you’d allow me to look around his kit room. Would that be okay?” Andy asked.

  “Sure.” Tash led Andy and Dortman down to a lower level where Tom kept his adventure gear. The room had the look of an Aladdin’s man cave, packed full of sports and outdoor gear. There was a surfboard, speargun, diving gear and tanks hanging from the ceiling and three wet suits.

  A large yellow double kayak rested on a purpose-built storage rack attached by bolts to the wall and, below it, a red single kayak,. Under the red kayak there was space for another, but the rack where it should have been was empty. Above, in the ceiling rafter, were the paddles.

  Against the wall on the hillside of the house were rows of grey colored, metal storage shelves. The shelves were filled with rucksacks, sleeping bags, a tent, two or three different cookers, pots, pans, and boots. On the top shelf sat a waterproof GPS unit, a personal locator beacon, two head torches and a Go-Pro camera.

  “He was well organized,” Andy said out loud, not expecting a reply.

  “Tom was always well organized, everything had a place. He loved structure and routines. That’s why his death being called an accident doesn’t make any sense.”

  Andy had seen enough of the house and gained good insights from speaking with Tash. “Tash, thanks for speaking with us and showing us around, we need to leave now, but I’ll let you know if I find out who is behind all of these murders
.”

  Tash nodded and showed the two men out.

  As they started to walk away, Tash called after Andy: “Thank you for killing the bastard!”

  CHAPTER 26

  They arrived at Empty Glass Productions just before five. The cars in the carpark had started to thin out which made it easy to get a space near the entrance. The reception area had the look of an elaborate mini-shrine to the creators of the company, or rather to one of them: Rick Sprag, poster boy for film production in New Zealand.

  They made their way over to the reception desk and asked to speak with him, and yes, they did have an appointment. While Andy waited, he used the time to read about Rick’s illustrious career, the awards he’d won and, in their words, ‘His sheer brilliance’. Rick started his career in Wellington, but to gain backers, make big budget movies and create a name for himself he headed to LA and the center of the film industry. After a lucky break with a low budget murder mystery movie, he gained bigger budgets and some star-pulling power which started his collection of Oscars and numerous industry awards to his name.

  Rick returned to Wellington and set-up Empty Glass with his long-time business partner, Jack Corker. Jack had made a few of his own movies, but Andy didn’t recognize the names of any of them. Jack had also won some awards, but nothing as grand as Rick. The well-lit cabinet in the center of the reception was dominated by Rick’s awards.

  The cabinets on either side were filled with props that had featured in some of their movies, from models of spaceships, through to an animatronic head which moved and looked around the room from inside the cabinet. Andy thought it looked creepy and wondered whether the reception staff were freaked out at having to look at the moving head all day.

  A tall, middle aged man with wild grey hair wearing sandals appeared from a side door. He seemed guy seriously under dressed in his Hawaiian shorts and a bright blue tee-shirt with a print of a large red question mark on the front.

  “Andrew Flint?”

  “Yes,”

  “Rick Sprag, pleased to meet you.” Sprag looked older, greyer and a few pounds heavier than the photo’s in the shrine. Sprag quickly covered the short distance to shake Andy’s hand enthusiastically before turning his attention to Dortman.

  “Tomas Dortman. I’m here to assist Mr. Flint,” was as much as he managed to say before Sprag gave him the same enthusiastic handshake he’d just given Andy. Andy inwardly chuckled to himself at Dortman’s obvious discomfort in the encounter.

  “Amy reached out to me before you called so I was expecting you. She said it’s pretty important.”

  “I think it is and I’d really would like your professional assistance,” Andy replied.

  “I’m happy to help my old friend and put my resources at your disposal for a few hours,” Rick smiled before his expression changed to one of concern, “however, we are working on several projects which are commercially sensitive, and we have our own technology and techniques which we’ve developed so I hope you don’t mind our policy of no phones inside the building.”

  Rick pointed to a sign ‘No cell phones beyond this point’, before continuing, “You can leave your phones with Mel at reception.” It was more of an order than a request, but they nodded their understanding of the ruling. Melanie sitting at reception gave them a warm ‘I get paid to do this’ smile.

  “Also, if you have a smart watch or a recording device of any sort, they have to stay here with Mel.” Andy and Dortman handed their cell phones to Melanie. Once they were relieved of their communication devices, Sprag directed them towards the direction he’d entered. “Come with me gents. We’ll have a quick chat before I figure out how best we can help. Mel, please hold any calls until we’re done.”

  Sprag led them away from reception and down a wide corridor which had enlarged photographs of memorable moments from Sprag’s and Corker’s movies. There were also cast and crew photos, taken after the final scene had been shot, when it was a wrap. In these were dozens of smiling faces celebrating the end of their shared, experience, naturally, Sprag was front and center, the cast and crew still acting as his props.

  He led them into the oak-paneled boardroom where a television screen along entire length of one wall dominated the space. A large oak table took center stage surrounded by eight black leather and oak chairs. Sprag sat heavily and gestured to the others to sit. “Okay Andrew, tell me what you have and what you want from me?”

  “Firstly, thank you for agreeing to meet with us at short notice. I know you’re a busy man and have many other things you could be doing right now, and please call me Andy.”

  Sprag nodded and smiled in return. Andy carried on, “I have a video of a person who appears to engage in various sex acts with two women in a hotel in Moscow. I need to know whether it’s real and determine whether the person on camera is the person we believe it is.”

  “Okay, you’ve got my attention, I’m intrigued,” Sprag replied, leaning forward in his seat.

  “It looks like the President of the United States sometime before he went into politics.”

  “Holy moly!” Sprag exclaimed. Out of the corner of his eye Andy caught sight of Dortman almost rolling his eyes at his reaction.

  “Clearly this is a sensitive matter and your discretion is required.”

  “How did you come by it?” Sprag asked, “it may help establish its authenticity.”

  Andy thought for a few moments about how much he could share. However, as Sprag would soon be watching what could be highly compromising material which could potentially change the face of US politics, he decided to be upfront. “It came from a Russian site. I got it from my son. He, along with anyone who has had anything to do with it, have been murdered.” If he’d made an error of judgement in sharing its history, then at least Sprag was now aware how dangerous it was for him to mention that he’d seen it.

  Sprag’s demeanor changed, he looked serious for the first time since they’d met him. “I’m sorry. Amy didn’t tell me. Someone clearly believes it’s real if they are prepared to kill for it. You have the video?”

  Andy reached into his pocket, produced the memory stick and held it up for Sprag to see.

  “I have my team in the editing suite, they normally work until I leave. I trust them, and you’ll have to trust them too. They’re the best in the business at what they do and if they soil their reputations by breaching our confidence, they know they’ll never work in this industry again.”

  “If Amy trusts you, I trust you and your team,” Andy replied.

  “Good, now that’s out of the way, I need to check the memory stick. I can’t go sticking it into our systems without virus-checking it first. You’d be surprised how many memory sticks carry all sorts of nasty surprises, and I’m not just talking about porn. After we know the memory stick isn’t packing a virus, we’ll have a look.”

  Andy handed over the memory stick. Sprag stood and headed for the door, Andy and Dortman followed. Sprag led them back towards the reception area, but before they reached it, they turned into a side room on the left.

  The room was small and windowless, with a table pushed against one wall. On the table sat a computer, keyboard and mouse. The computer had a large display which came to life when Sprag entered the room and displayed the message: ‘Welcome Back Rick’. “We use facial recognition as part of our biometric authentication process, much easier than typing in your username and some complex password that you’ll forget two minutes after you’ve created it.”

  Sprag sat in front of the computer and inserted the memory stick into one of the side ports and waited. The mouse moved in a blur across the screen as he selected a program, clicked on the symbol for the memory stick, chose an option and executed the scan. Several seconds later the display showed a large green circle with a symbol of a white tick in the middle. “That’s good,” he said to no one in particular, “let’s get going.”

  Sprag removed the USB stick from the computer and led them back towards the boardroom and ma
de a left turn down another corridor before entering a room on the right. It took Andy a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lowered lighting levels which came from the soft lighting from the sides and floor.

  Andy was surprised to see two men and a woman sat at computer workstations. Each workstation had two large screens. On the wall to the front another screen took up the entire wall, in a similar way to the boardroom. With the door closed, Sprag made brief introductions, “James, Kate and Chris,” pointing at the three technicians in turn. He held up the memory stick, “We have a video on this USB stick which shows a well-known public figure acting-out with call girls. We need to know whether it’s real or a fabrication.”

  “Okay boss, spin it up,” James, in a heavy metal tee-shirt, replied.

  Sprag inserted the memory stick into a console and waited for the data to be copied into their powerful processing systems. A small light on the console flicked to green and Sprag nodded to James.

  The large screen changed from its black backdrop and displayed the video. The opening scene showed the hotel lounge area filmed from a wide-angle lens in the ceiling. The quality wasn’t what the team were used to working with, but they wouldn’t mind the change.

  There came the sound of knocking from the door. A tall, golden-haired man appeared from the bedroom and opened the door in the video. He wore a white bathrobe which contrasted with his deep orange fake tan. With the door open he ushered two young women into his suite.

  “We are here to show you good time.”

  “You know I don’t pay for this kind of thing,” the man replied.

  “It okay. Account already taken care of, you no pay.”

  “Freeze it there,” Sprag ordered, then, “Zoom in on the central character and get the date on the recording. Who do we think this is?”

  Kate raised her glasses, placing them on her short blond hair and looked up. “That looks like the President of the United States,” she said. Andy noticed she was wearing a tee-shirt with an image of the Houses of Parliament in London with the words ‘Jokers in the House’ across it in red print.