by Peter Kozmar
“I’m at the railway station. Anthony Clement-Bridges has just been shot dead,” Andy said as calmly as he could, given the circumstances, keeping the pillar between him and the shooter.
“Shit!”
Andy heard a child’s voice from the other end of the line, “Mummy why are you swearing?”
“I’m sorry darling. I’ve just heard some bad news. I know I shouldn’t use bad words like that. Mollie, can I talk with my friend?”
“Yes mummy, but no more bad words.” Andy could almost hear the sound of a tiny finger being wagged at Carter.
“What’s happening?” Carter asked.
“Someone’s already called for an ambulance. I’m sure the police will be here soon. I didn’t see the shooter or hear the shot,” Andy relayed, still keeping clear of the killer.
“Okay, get off the line, I need to make some calls. Stay there and I’ll be with you once I’ve dropped Mollie off.”
Andy hung up. He could hear the sound of sirens approaching from different directions. He dialed Vladim’s number and told him Clement-Bridges had been shot dead. He said he’d phoned Carter and she was going to meet him at the scene. Vladim confirmed Dortman was still driving back to the city and, once he’d arrived, they’d meet with up with him.
“Okay, when Tomas is with you, let me know where you are and I’ll come to you, because the crime scene is going to be locked down for hours and you’ll not be able to get here,” Andy replied, then hung up.
How did the shooter know I’d be at the railway station this morning? Why kill Clement-Bridges? Clement-Bridges didn’t even work for the UN, so what’s the connection? What did Clement-Bridges know that has him now lying on the floor bleeding out? The questions were whizzing round Andy’s mind as he tried to figure out the gunman’s firing position. Sufficient time had passed for the gunman to have wrongly assumed he had fled into the station. Likewise, Andy assumed if the gunman was a professional, he’d be well clear of the area too. Andy peered around the pillar, carefully scanning the building in front.
The sirens grew louder; their shrill screeches, amplified off the tall buildings, adding to the drama that was unfolding in front of him. The first emergency vehicle arrived on the scene; the paramedics jumped out and ran towards the body of Clement-Bridges.
Moments later a police vehicle came to a halt on the freeway and two armed officers alighted sprinting towards the crowd. “Make way, Police!” they shouted as they ran. The crowd parted for them while some of those on the periphery continued to film the action.
The paramedics, who had already arrived at the body and checked for signs of life, leaned back on their heels. They nodded agreement at each other and looked up just as the police officers reached them: “He’s dead.”
The police officers looked up and one of them started speaking into their radio while the other addressed the crowd, “Did anyone see what happened?”
A young man with a baseball cap replied, “Yeah, bro, he was shot from over there.” He pointed to a large building about one-hundred-and-fifty meters away which had a clear and unobstructed view of the entrance to the station. The officer continued to talk into his radio while looking at the front of the indicated building.
“How many shots were fired?” the officer asked.
“Only one, I think, I didn’t hear it, I just saw a puff of smoke from over there,” he continued to point to the building. “Then this guy went down, he’d been walking down the steps and fell the rest of the way,” he pointed to the body of Clement-Bridges.
“You, stay with me,” the officer said looking at the young man before he turned to address the crowd. “Right, I need everyone to move inside the station for your own safety. When you’re inside, don’t go anywhere as we need to collect witness statements. The crowd, which had grown larger as more commuters exited the station, stood motionless as if transfixed by the drama taking place in front of them. No one seemed prepared to head back to the safety of the station.
“Okay folks, time to move, the gunman could still be nearby. Do you want to be the next body? Move back into the station.” The potential threat of an armed felon on the loose seemed to get through and the crowd started to slowly file back into the station. “Don’t go away. We need to collect your statements!” The second officer ushered the crowd towards the station’s main entrance rounding up a few stragglers who looked like they were more interested in heading for their offices than getting drawn into something they didn’t witness directly.
More police cars and two more ambulances arrived at the entrance to the station. The ambulances parked up to form a screen either side of the pedestrian walkway obscuring the view of the body from the prying eyes and cell phone cameras.
“Right, can you show me where you saw the shot come from?” the officer asked the young man.
“On top of the pharmacy, just above the blue billboard on the right,” came the reply
The officer spoke into his radio to direct his colleagues towards the tall building opposite. One group broke to the left and headed for the vehicle entrance while a smaller second group headed for the main building entrance. The officer with the young witness spoke to him again, “Can you describe what happened before the shooting?”
“The dead man was talking to that guy,” he turned to look for Andy. He moved slightly so he could see him and pointed him out to the officer, “That man, up there, hiding behind the pillar.”
“You, by the pillar, don’t move,” the officer commanded, pointing directly at Andy. Damn!
Andy smiled nervously and acknowledged the instruction. The last thing he needed was to be shot by the police. He looked across to where the young man said the shot had been fired. The sniper’s position had been well planned with a good line-of-sight across the station entrance. Professional. They would have been well concealed with multiple escape routes not covered by cameras.
Heavily armed police officers arrived, their masked faces hidden under their black Kevlar helmets. The first paramedics to arrive at the scene had covered Clement-Bridges’s body with a red blanket before returning to their vehicle to update their records. The police had taped off the crime scene and were inside the railway station doing their best to collect the names and addresses of the witnesses.
The officer who ordered Andy not to go anywhere approached him. “Did you know the deceased?” he asked.
“I met him for the first time on the train. His name is Anthony Clement-Bridges. I believe he worked at the British High Commission.”
The officer used his radio to update the control room with the details of the dead man. When he’d finished, the officer turned to Andy, “Can I have your name and date of birth, please?” Before Andy could answer, Inspector Copeland appeared, he looked flustered as though he’d been in a rush to get there. “It’s okay John, I know him, let me have a few words with him,” he instructed.
“Sure, boss,” the officer replied and walked away.
“What the hell is it with you and murders?” hissed Copeland as he stood inches from Andy. “Since you’ve been in our country, our annual murder rate has doubled. We’re going to look worse than Mexico and they’ve got their narco wars. The media will have a field day. Tourists will think twice before coming to New Zealand. The Prime Minister will question the Police Commissioner and he will look for someone to take the heat. You do know who that will be?” Copeland was struggling to keep his cool.
“I didn’t kill him,” Andy said calmly. The last thing he needed was to give Copeland an excuse to arrest him.
“Did you have anything to do with that?” Copeland asked pointing at the body.
“No, I just happened to be stood next to him. That shot could have been intended for me and the shooter missed me and struck him instead. You will remember I have already had one attempt on my life since I’ve been in your country.”
“You know I don’t believe a word you’re saying. You’ll bring in your fancy lawyer and even if you had gunned him down
in front of a dozen witnesses, on live television, he’d get you off!” Copeland spoke as if he was still aggrieved from the outcome of their previous encounter.
“You really think I’ve something to do with all of this?” Andy asked, he was starting to get bored with Copeland’s approach.
Copeland looked as if he was about to answer, when Carter arrived and stepped in between them.
“Did you see the gunman?” Carter asked, looking directly at Andy.
“No. I didn’t even see where the shot came from,” he replied, an edge of irritation in his tone.
“Single shot at Clement-Bridges. Any shots at you?” she continued, ignoring Copeland.
“Nothing at me.”
“Do you think a half-decent marksman could have shot you too?”
Andy thought for a moment. He’d been frozen to the spot for several seconds before he reacted and moved behind the pillar. “A half-decent marksman had plenty of time to take several shots at me. I could just as easily be lying next to Clement-Bridges under that blanket. They wouldn’t have missed, I was a sitting duck.”
“Are you okay? Do we need the paramedics to take a look at you in case you’re coming down with shock?” Carter asked.
“I’m fine,” Andy replied, however, Carter ignored him and waved to a paramedic, summoning them over.
“I’d like you to check him out. He might be going into shock,” Carter said to the paramedic, “he’s had a lot to deal with in the last few days and I want to make sure he’s okay.”
The paramedic placed a blanket over Andy’s shoulders and slowly coaxed him to the rear of an ambulance. A fuming Copeland stayed behind to speak with Carter. Once out of sight of Copeland, Andy handed the blanket back to the paramedic, said a quick, ‘Thank you, I’m all good,’ and strode away from the railway station, through the cordon and into the gathered crowd of morbid onlookers. He quickly disappeared amongst the large mass of people and headed the short distance back to the hotel.
CHAPTER 31
To get away from the crowds and the curious onlookers, Vladim, Andy and Dortman headed down Featherston Street to the Thunderbird Café. The café looked quiet with only a few patrons catching their first coffee of the day. Once at the counter, Andy felt the urge for breakfast. The adrenaline from the morning’s shooting had worn off and hunger had replaced it.
He chose blueberry pancakes with bacon, grilled banana and maple syrup and a long black coffee. Vladim chose poached eggs on sourdough with bacon and hollandaise sauce and an English breakfast tea. Dortman went with poached eggs on toast and a long black. After they’d ordered and were given a table number, they moved to an empty booth.
“Who did you tell about your meeting with Clement-Bridges? How did the gunman know you would be at the railway station this morning?” Vladim asked out of curiosity.
“I spoke with Hobbs and the three of us discussed it at dinner.”
“Do you trust Hobbs?” Vladim enquired.
“I don’t believe she would have planned the attack if that’s what you mean.”
“So, if she didn’t set you up and we didn’t tell anyone, how did the gunman know?” Dortman asked.
“That’s a good question, I have no idea, but someone knew and that someone organized the hit on Clement-Bridges.”
“What did you find out before he was shot?” Vladim asked.
“He admitted he knew of Matt Temple, however, he wasn’t here on behalf of MI6.”
“Do you believe him?”
“He claimed to be in the dark on this one. He thought Temple may have been contracted out to some other agency or Government who needed a top-drawer trigger man.”
“Anything else?”
“He confirmed to me that Fiona Armstrong had approached him about corruption within the UN which she couldn’t flag via her own line management for obvious reasons.”
A young man in black clothing sporting a long, unkempt beard arrived at the booth with their drinks. Andy nodded with approval as he caught the smell of the strong bitter coffee. After placing their drinks down, the young man carefully removed glasses of water from his tray and placed these on the table. “Your breakfasts won’t be long,” he smiled and returned to the counter where a small queue had formed.
Andy took a sip of his coffee before he continued, “When Tomas and I were at Fiona’s house yesterday, I found some papers she’d hidden in a framed picture of the London Eye. The papers were from multiple sources. When brought together it looked like they identified bribes being made from the UN and taken by Heads of Governments and senior politicians who exert global influence.”
“You could be getting somewhere,” Vladim stated.
“I also think I may have found another clue,” Andy said, “when I mentioned Kavell, Knight and Schroder to Clement-Bridges, he went as white as a sheet. He knew them and it spooked him enough to end the conversation as we were approaching the station. Outside, he warned me to drop my investigation. He was about to say something else when he was shot.”
“Tomas knows of the law firm,” Vladim informed him.
“I told Mr. Flint that you have been approached by Oliver Knight a few times over the years. Knight wanted to see if you would be interested in changing legal representatives and to use them for a trial period,” Dortman replied.
“Did we?”
“No, we did not!” Dortman said more emphatically than Andy had ever heard him be. He continued, “When I met with him, Knight referred to a small number of his business and celebrity clients by name, clearly thinking this would sway us to use his services. Such a lack of discretion was enough to indicate he was not to be trusted and ended any interest we might have had in becoming a client.”
Their conversation stopped when the bearded host arrived with a tray carrying their meals. As he placed their plates down Andy’s cell phone rang. He looked at the display. It was Carter. Andy discarded the call and held his phone up.
“Carter. She can wait until I’ve had something to eat. She was smoothing things over with Copeland when I left, which gave me the opportunity to get out of there.”
Their host removed their table number and left them to their breakfasts.
“Okay I need to go and meet with Oliver Knight and see if there are more connections.” To Andy’s surprise Dortman laughed out loud and shook his head. “What’s so funny?” Andy snapped, irritated by Dortman’s outburst.
“I don’t believe they will meet you. After you call them to set up the appointment, one of their interns will be tasked with finding everything they can about you. The first thing they’ll do is look at your tax returns and bank balances. Even after Mrs. Martirossian’s generous payments for securing the release of Mr. Martirossian in Saint Petersburg, your six-figure bank balance will not be enough to secure a meeting,” Dortman stated by way of an explanation.
“Have you got a better idea?” Andy asked, still prickly, but not about to make a scene.
“Yes I do. I can arrange an appointment on behalf of Mr. Martirossian, but you and I will attend the appointment. It is a given that, having tried and failed to get us to sign up before, there won’t be a problem with achieving this, their egos will be stroked. That way you will not fall foul of their background checks and you’ll be able to get inside their building.”
“That’s a great idea,” Vladim said.
Andy’s phone rang again. He looked at the display and sent the call to voicemail. “Carter,” he informed his companions. They tucked into their meals, but Andy sensed there was something on Vladim’s mind that he wanted to share. He knew that he would have to wait until Vladim was ready and he was relieved he didn’t have to wait long as Vladim spoke to break the silence.
“Ana got bored in Queenstown after a week, she came to Wellington and made her mind up that she needed to leave. She’s staying at The Retreat, Hans is there with her. After your appointment with Oliver Knight, you’ll have to excuse Tomas and I as our respective partners need to spend some time with
us,” he paused to allow Andy to take in what he’d said, “besides, Switzerland is a far safer country than New Zealand at the moment. I don’t think you’ll need us … unless you need to have one of us keep an eye on you in case you decide to kill yourself again.”
Even though Vladim meant his throw away comment in jest and good humor, it surprised Andy how deep it cut. “No. I’ll be fine. I think I’m in control, for now. You two have really gone out of your way to help me. Thanks, I really do appreciate what you have done to help me.” Andy was genuinely pleased to have had their support. They had saved his life and for that he would be in their debt.
Andy’s cell phone rang again. Carter. Just as he was about to answer a thought entered his mind. “Maybe there is always someone else on the line with us,” he said cryptically as he held his cell phone up before answering the call. “Hi Carter.”
“Where did you go?” she asked, clearly annoyed with him.
“I thought the police had a lot to get on with at the scene. I didn’t want to get in the way. Did the police find any trace of the gunman?” Andy countered, he knew she was mad at him and he didn’t really need it just now.
Amy ignored his question, “Where are you? The police were expecting to take your statement as you’re an important witness.”
“I’m just down the road having breakfast with Vladim and Dortman, I was up early this morning and didn’t have anything to eat before I caught the train in Greytown. I’ll pop down and see you when we’ve finished.”
“Keith is very keen to see you. He thinks you attract trouble and the closer he is to you, the quicker they’ll be able to respond to the next murder,” came the terse response, Carter’s tone showing little patience.
“Look, I didn’t plan any of this,” Andy protested, “someone else is behind this and it isn’t me!”
“We are down by the railway station where you left us. We’ll still be here when you’ve finished your meal. If you don’t appear, Keith will have you picked up and he’ll be happy to ruin your day.”