Dead Secret

by Peter Kozmar

  Durand drove quickly through the quiet city streets to the carpark at Chaffers Dock. He parked the car facing the harbor and killed the engine. There were only two other cars in the carpark; both unoccupied.

  With their privacy assured Durand started talking, “I don’t say this often. I was wrong. I assumed your son had murdered his co-workers. You proved it wasn’t your son.”

  Andy nodded. It wasn’t an apology. Even Durand couldn’t ignore the mountain of evidence pointing to Matt Temple as the gunman.

  “Can you tell me what you know? The New Zealand Police haven’t been very forthcoming with information. Inspector Copeland only helps when he’s directed by Agent Carter and she’s not good at replying to my calls.”

  “I don’t know much, but I will tell you as much as I can. I’d like to start with the murder of Tom Evans.”

  “Murder?” Durand looked surprised.

  “Yes … Murder. You seem to be unable to grasp the truth even when it’s starring you in the face, so I’m going to spell it out for you. Tom Evans, a fit, experienced kayaker and former special forces Royal Marine Commando doesn’t go and drown in the harbor in near perfect conditions. There’s no way that was an accident. Everyone looked at the circumstantial evidence, the absence of a life-jacket, and failed to see beyond it. Then, less than twenty-four hours later, his home was broken into and all items related to his work were stolen which was made to look more like an opportunistic burglary,” he paused, “and no-one listened to his widow … so no-one connected the dots.”

  “Mmh, it’s a nice theory, but, the police reported his death as an accident and the break-in was simply coincidental. It didn’t need further investigation.”

  “You are speaking with the same level of insight you used to blame Mark for the office murders. You know, in this business coincidences don’t happen, they are manufactured by deliberate events.”

  Durand looked stung, “Go on. Then tell me what you think really happened?”

  Andy looked out across the dark waters of the harbor, “Tom Evans had a routine he followed every time he went in the water. He’d always tell his wife where he was going and when he’d be back. If she was available, she would offer to go with him. They enjoyed each other’s company and this time Evans didn’t tell her. That was his first change of routine.”

  “Maybe he forgot. Maybe he was keen to get onto the water and in his excitement he forgot to tell his wife.”

  Andy shrugged, “Maybe so. However, as I said, he was a man of routine and the second change in routine was his favorite talisman which always went with him when he went near water. It was his Neptune talisman which he’d had from his days in the Royal Marines. He’d left it behind.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “Evans was very safety conscious and that day he didn’t wear a life jacket. His wife said he always wore a life jacket.” Andy let Durand process the information. “Calm conditions and an experienced kayaker ends up in the water. As a former Marine, he’ll have been a very strong swimmer. How can a man like that drown?”

  “It happens,” Durand couldn’t hide the doubt in his voice.

  “Really! You asked what I thought. I think Evans was either incapacitated, taken to the water and drowned. Whoever did it wasn’t aware of his routine and so missed out those things when they gathered his kit to stage the accident. Or Evans was acting under duress and avoided doing those things to send a message.”

  Durand nodded, turned in his seat and touched Andy’s upper arm.

  “I’m sorry about Mark. To see your son murdered in front of you. Absolutely terrible. Just terrible.” Durand shook his head, “What did Mark tell you before he died? Did he hand you anything, computer files, paperwork, that sort of thing?”

  “He didn’t hand me anything,” Andy lied. Why would Durand ask specifically about that? “I asked him what happened at the office and why he’d run. He talked about his former colleagues and said he’d miss them. We talked about why he thought the office was attacked.”

  “What did he say?” Durand was suddenly listening very carefully to each word.

  “Mark had no idea why they were killed. He’d been out of the office when the killer struck and came back to find everyone dead. He called the police, but then realized the gunman may have still been in the building, so he took off. He went straight to the US Embassy for sanctuary, but they said wouldn’t protect him and, when they came out mob handed, he thought they could be involved in some way, so he ran from them.”

  The two men sat quietly looking at the lights reflecting across the water’s surface when Durand broke the silence, “I’m not getting any details from the police about the man you killed, they say they are still in the process of identifying him. What do you know?”

  “The gunman used a ghost identity, Craig Jones. His real name was Matt Temple and he served with the British SAS. Why he murdered UN staff and who directed him are, as yet, unanswered questions.”

  “This is a great mystery we have in front of us.” Durand let his words hang in the air between them as he looked out across the still water at the flashing harbor lights. “Did the police tell you what they found when they searched Temple’s accommodation and car? Did they find the equipment he removed from our servers?”

  “No. They didn’t share any information with me. They were more interested in charging me with murder and other offences.”

  “If the rumors of what you did are true, I can understand that course of action, a bit of overkill if you don’t mind me saying. However, it looks like we are both in the same boat and being kept at arms-length.”

  “What happens now?” Andy asked.

  “I’ll write my report. It will have a number of unanswered questions.” Durand shrugged before continuing, “I’d like to thank you, on behalf of the Secretary General, as your involvement with us is now at an end. We are all saddened by the tragic and untimely loss of your son and we deeply feel for your sorrow.”

  “Okay. Well, thank you.”

  “Look, due to the nature of our work, we can’t accept an invoice from you for your services.”

  Andy looked surprised.

  Durand shook his head. “I don’t think you realize what I’m saying. Here. Take this!” Durand handed over a bulky brown paper bag, “it’s a small gesture of appreciation from the UN.”

  Andy looked into the bag. He saw several bricks of twenty-dollar bills in US currency. He was at a loss as to what to say. He’d never been given money like this before. “Oh ... okay … thanks … err, do you need anything else from me?” he asked.

  “No. If something crops up, we’ll be in touch. In the meantime, I’ll take you back you back to your hotel.”

  Durand fired up the BMW and screeched out of the car park, the violent moves from the car pushed Andy around in his seat as the car cornered a little too quickly. Durand kept his foot pressed firmly down on the gas without breaking for corners, junctions or for red stop signals. Andy didn’t know which he found more terrifying, dodging bullets fired from a trained killer or Durand’s driving; both had the potential to kill him!

  They were soon parked on the sidewalk outside the Rydges Hotel. Andy said a brief ‘Goodnight’ to Durand as he exited the car. Durand didn’t hang around, pulling away from the sidewalk on to the road and through a red stop light, narrowly avoiding a car which had right of way. Andy shook his head, turned and entered the hotel firmly gripping the bag of cash.

  He saw Vladim and Dortman sat at the bar and walked over to join them. They stepped down from their bar stools as he approached them. “No need to bring a take-out we’ve eaten already.” Vladim said with a smile looking at the paper bag. The smell of whisky on Vladim’s breath wafted over him.

  “Courtesy of the United Nations,” Andy said, smiling, “payment in cash for services rendered, I found my son as per the brief.”

  “That’s nice of them,” Dortman said dryly, clearly unimpressed.

  “Completely unexpected, howeve
r, I’m sure I’ll have issues trying to take a large bag of used notes out of the country having been accused of murder!”

  Vladim thought for a moment. “Give the money to Tomas, he can bank it and he’ll transfer the money to you. No one will question him at the bank handing over a bag of cash to put into one of our accounts. It’s petty cash to him,” Vladim winked at Dortman.

  Andy handed over the paper bag with the cash.

  “How much is in there?” Dortman asked.

  “No idea, I trust you.”

  Dortman smiled.

  “What did our friend from the UN want with you, apart from giving you a paper bag stuffed with cash?” Vladim asked.

  “He wanted to know what I’d found out. I gave him enough to keep him happy. He accepts there are unanswered questions, but unless the New Zealand Police or the British start to share, he can’t wrap it up without loose ends.”

  “I see,” Vladim replied.

  Andy yawned, “Well, gentlemen, it’s been a long day and I need to get some sleep.”

  “How do you feel?” Vladim said, then he touched Andy’s upper arm, “You know we care about you, Tomas will go with you.”

  Andy smiled as he said, “I’m a lot better, thank you. I know I have some way to go, but I’m nowhere near as raw as this morning. I’m still hurting, I’m still angry and I’m still looking for answers, but I don’t need to have Tomas sitting in my room watching over me while I sleep.”

  ***

  Later, as Andy slept restlessly, Dortman sat only feet away, and had just finished messaging his partner Hans about their day. Dortman settled in for a long night and found the latest anime release from Empty Glass Studios which he started to view while watching over Flint.

  CHAPTER 28

  The next morning, after breakfast, Andy headed across the city to Fiona’s house with Dortman accompanying him as his driver and minder. Andy knocked on the door loudly and waited. Nothing. He looked at Dortman and before he knocked again a little more loudly and firmly than the first time.

  “Hold your horses. I’m coming!” a voice shouted from within, Andy heard the shuffling of feet before seeing a figure approach through the patterned window.

  Jake Armstrong opened the door. He was still a wreck and was wearing the same soiled pajamas from Andy’s previous visit. “Hi Jake. Can we come in and have another look around?”

  “Why?” Jake asked as he scratched his unkept hair.

  “I think I may have missed something on our first visit. I’ve come across clues which lead me back here … can we come in and talk? It won’t take long.” Andy needed Jake to let them in, as once across the threshold, it would be harder for Jake to refuse to let Andy search again. The longer he stood outside, the less his chances Jake would help. “Please?” he asked gently.

  “Are you any closer to catching the killer?” Jake questioned them, clearly irritated by their presence.

  “Can we discuss this somewhere less public?” Andy could sense a break in Jake’s reticence. After a brief pause Jake opened the door wider and walked down the hall into the kitchen. Andy followed while Dortman closed the front door and caught up with them. They pulled up stools against the table and sat. Andy thought the kitchen looked even more distressed than his last visit and in need of even more attention, much like Jake.

  “The killer who murdered Fiona also killed my son,” Andy paused to allow his words to sink in, “the killer is dead.”

  “You certain?”

  “I’m sure. He murdered my son in front of me, then tried to kill me, but I got him first.”

  “Who’s your friend?” Jake asked looking at Dortman.

  “I’m in a dark space at the moment. He’s here to keep me safe,” Andy found being honest much easier than trying to think of another way to explain why Dortman was sticking to him like glue. Jake avoided eye contact and looked at the kitchen floor. Andy pressed on, “With my son murdered in front of me, I’ve been having dark dark thoughts with no clear way out. You know, I didn’t feel I could carry on … today I can see through the pain and I’ve channeled my anger to get me out. That’s what keeps me going.”

  Andy paused before he continued, “Jake do you need help?”

  Jake’s red eyes started to tear up. “I still hear Fi around the house. I can still smell her on my clothes. I keep thinking she’ll walk through the front door carrying a bag of groceries. I keep hoping this is a nightmare from which I’ll soon wake and she’ll be right here with me.” Jake rubbed his tear stained cheeks and eyes with the palms of his hands. He sobbed as he continued, “You know, Fi said I was the strong silent type … look at me … I’m a mess!”

  Dortman looked concerned. “Has anyone looked in on you?” he asked.

  “Apart from the police who broke the news and you, no one has been to see me.”

  “Have you been to see your doctor for help?” Dortman asked.

  “I’ve not been out of the house,” Jake replied, clearly struggling to give the answer.

  “Have you harmed yourself in any way?” Dortman asked.

  “No.”

  “Have you thought of ending your life?”

  Jake fell silent.

  He folded his arms and wept.

  Dortman produced his cell phone and did a quick internet search. Andy glimpsed the screen and saw Dortman had found the number for the Wellington Community Mental Health Team. “You should go and follow-up on your clue. I’ll stay with Jake and see if I can get him professional help.” Andy, nodded, stood and left the room.

  ***

  In the study, Andy scrutinized the picture of the London Eye he’d seen during his earlier visit. The frame appeared slightly thicker than he’d expected. He held the frame firmly in both hands, took its weight and lifted it clear of the wall. He turned and placed the picture, glass side down, on the desk.

  He studied the clasps which held the back to the frame. The plywood showed signs of repeated scuffing, indicating the back had been removed several times. Andy removed the clasps with his thumbs and pulled away the plywood backing to reveal a large brown envelope stuck to the inside. Jackpot!

  Andy quickly pulled the envelope away, opened it and removed the contents, spreading it out on the surface in front of him. There were copies of emails, bank transfers and, what looked like transcripts from phone intercepts.

  He needed to study the papers in detail, but here wasn’t the time or place, not with Jake’s life on the line. Andy put the papers back into the envelope and placed it in his jacket pocket. He replaced the plywood backing of the picture and pushed the clasps down before returning it carefully on the picture hook. He made sure he aligned it correctly so it didn’t look like he’d removed it. He didn’t want his mistake to put Jake’s life at risk; he had a hard enough journey ahead of him without needing to look over his shoulder.

  He stopped and looked around the room again. His attention was drawn to Fiona’s book collection, the genres of books didn’t shout ‘casual read’ and it puzzled him. He didn’t have time to wait for an answer to his curiosity to come to him so he removed his cell phone and took several photographs of the books, then headed back to the kitchen.

  When he entered Jake was in tears, quietly sobbing while he pressed the phone to his ear. Dortman approached. “I’m making sure Jake gets help. Do you mind if I stay with him until the Crisis Management Team arrive? They’ve told me they’re on their way and not to leave him on his own.”

  “That’s fine with me. I’ll grab an Uber back to the city and I’ll see you later,” Andy replied. He tried not to disturb Jake as he slipped out of the kitchen down the hallway to the front door. Andy knew the dark place Jake was in and hoped that Dortman’s intervention would save another life.

  ***

  Standing outside Jake’s home while looking at the expansive views, Andy arranged an Uber to take him to the Botanical Gardens. He’d decided against sitting in his hotel room to read the papers he had concealed in his pocket. The thought of
Trojan turning up unexpectedly or that the room was bugged had put him off using his room for anything other than sleep. The Uber dropped him at the entrance to the Cable Car Museum and Botanical Gardens.

  Ignoring the quaint Museum, he walked the short distance towards the observation point next to the Cable Car terminus where he stopped and looked out over the city. The views of the harbor were stunning; the clear blue water twinkling in the bright sunlight. He leaned against a metal railing and watched as a twin-engine aircraft slowly crossed the harbor making its final approach to the airport.

  Andy closed his eyes and felt the sun on his face, he could hear the distant drone of the aircraft engines mingling with the birdsong in the trees nearby. He used the moment to ground himself in the present. He slowed his breathing as he listened actively to what was going on around him clearing a space in his mind to allow himself time to think things through. He focused on what he needed and made a commitment to himself. He wasn’t going back to his old ways where he escaped reality and avoided responsibility by drowning himself in alcohol.

  Now he could focus on solving the mystery behind the multiple murders. Maybe he held the answer in his head. Maybe it was all about Fiona Armstrong and Tom Evans. Everyone else had been collateral damage; his son had been just a loose end that someone needed to tidy up.

  The sound of a high-pitched clanging brought Andy out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes in time to watch a red cable car slowly leave the terminus and head down the steep slope towards the city below.

  Andy turned away from the viewing platform and walked along a path which ran along the top of the ridge above the city. He casually looked around; there were no surveillance cameras to be seen. The tourists were behind him, still congregated at the view point. He stopped at an unoccupied bench and sat. Andy took out the envelope and removed the paperwork. It has been roughly divided into three clusters.

  He kept the first cluster in his hands while putting the rest of the paperwork back in the envelope. The name ‘Kavell, Knight and Schroder’ jumped out at him. They were connected to large financial transactions from the United Nations. The payments were forwarded to companies registered in the Seychelles, Cayman Islands and Bermuda. Andy whistled when he looked at the numbers, thirty million dollars, twenty-five million, forty-five million, twenty-five million, the numbers kept rolling.