Once the eggs were full of new viruses, the whole procedure could then be repeated many times, using six of the first batch of eggs to generate another two dozen trays and so on. All the albumin was then freeze-dried. A second-hand freeze dryer had been acquired by Dino Sutic from Massey University a year before. Although the university had sold the unit as scrap it was in remarkably good condition and took Graham-Collins only a few hours to restore to perfect working order. Having been freeze dried the albumin was triple bagged and stored in a large domestic freezer in the feed store at the rear of the piggery.
Petera had learned very early on at The Finches not to ask too many questions about what Tony was doing. So, the appearance of the glove box was noted but ignored. Likewise, the fire in the orchard, usually one of his chores, was also noted and ignored. Petera knew that there were always things going on which were not part of the crystal meth production, orchestrated by some big boss in Auckland. Petera had a cushy job that was very well paid and he didn’t want to jeopardise that for a second.
Although he was a Skorpion, he had been tamed by the farm. Growing up in Otara, Petera knew nothing of how the food on his plate got there. He had no interest in what the vegetables were or how they were grown and processed. He didn’t care about how the animals he ate lived or what animal husbandry meant. When he was assigned to The Finches he was as green as grass knowing nothing of how to look after animals. For that matter Tony knew even less. But that soon changed. Petera had read farming books, used the internet to research modern farming methods, he had even corresponded with farmers all around New Zealand, asking their advice. Although he was no contender for the “Young Farmer of the Year” competition, he was as much a farmer as any down-country. Petera loved what he did and made absolutely sure that he did nothing that would jeopardise his position at The Finches. If Tony was diversifying what the farm produced, he must be doing so with the approval of the Big Boss, so until he was asked to help, it was none of his business.
***
After Goran Sumovich handed control of the MV Olga Tovic to the Tauranga pilot, he relaxed and watched Mount Maunganui recede into the dusk of early evening. The different coloured lights of Mount Maunganui and Tauranga twinkled brightly against the darker background of the Kaimai Ranges. With the gentle throb of the engines and the swish of the water sluicing along the side of the ship, Sumovich thought of home, of his wife Sara, their two adult daughters Nina and Milena, and of course Anica. Goran was a grandfather of six and he missed his family more and more. Although the sea was his love it was not his lover, and with the years now passing so quickly, he yearned for home so much more these days. A sign of getting older he believed. It was time that he retired from the sea. After the weapon that Dino had planned to unleash was deployed, he would retire; spend more time with his grandchildren, Sara and Anica too. It would be a while though before he held them in his arms once more. He thought again of his home in Trieste, the warm fire crackling in the kitchen, the delicious aroma of dinner cooking on the Aga, and listening to the radio, where people spoke the same language. He had no problem speaking English, he was fluent in the language, but he always felt better at home and more secure when he spoke his native tongue.
It was twenty minutes before the ship slowed and the ship’s embarkation ladder was lowered to allow the pilot to disembark. As Goran looked down at the man climbing nimbly down the ladder and the black sea below, he was full of admiration for these brave men. When he recalled how they came aboard his ship, in steep pitching ocean swells, he was always glad that he had never become a pilot. With the cold wind freshening, Goran gratefully moved into the warmth of the closed bridge and ordered full speed. The clang of the bridge telegraph acknowledged his command and the MV Olga Tovic slowly gained her cruising speed. The First Mate, Gregor Bukovac, had already set a course that took them east of Mayor Island. Once clear of Needles Point at the northern tip of Great Barrier Island, they would swing Norwest towards Cape Brett. From there it was just a short distance to Whangaroa Bay, where they would pick up the two assassins.
When Goran saw the lights of Mahinepua, he slowed the Olga Tovic and steered in a more westerly direction until the ship was just two nautical miles from the shore. As the ship’s engines were slowed there was a fine balance between moving slow enough to execute the pick-up and fast enough to have controlled steerage of the vessel. All the deck lights were on, so the ship could easily be seen from the shore. Although this aided the safe arrival of their passengers the risk of discovery from prying eyes ashore was ever present. Goran did not wave a flashlight to signal his guests as this would have been foolish, courting discovery. He just allowed the Olga Tovic to move gently through the water until he heard the distinctive noise of the approaching Zodiac. As the inflatable nudged the starboard side of his ship, hidden from the shore, Sumovich ordered the empty number three lifeboat davit to be swung out. While two of the crew operated the davit, another two prepared the ship’s embarkation ladder. Within ten minutes the Zodiac and its passengers were onboard and the Olga Tovic was under way once more.
***
When her sister Sharon died it was as if a trapdoor had opened in Lisa’s heart and her life had poured through the gaping hole, into the blackness beyond. The strident sound of the heart monitor’s monotonous tone signalled a life lost and Lisa felt the departure of her sister’s spirit. Slowly her skin, festooned in tubes and wires, turned the colour of white parchment and became cold to the touch. The staff of the Intensive Care Unit allowed Lisa to stay with her sister for another twenty minutes before she was ushered away so that they could prepare her body for the morgue. Before her encounter with Sharon at her father’s flat, the last time Lisa had seen her sister was when she had been led away to begin her prison sentence. Though she had not seen Sharon for over two years, she loved her sister dearly and now that she was dead, Lisa was alone. When their mother had died, they had had to fend for themselves and Lisa had taken up the role of being a mother to her younger sister. No relations came forward, all the two sisters had was each other. They had survived together. When their father eventually turned up it was too late for him to take up the paternal mantle again. With his death there was just the two of them again, and now, Lisa was alone.
Sharon’s death surely lay at her feet, she thought. It was her fault; she had led her sister into drugs. Lisa had always been a role model for her sister and when she buckled under the pressure of her modelling career and resorted to drugs she wondered if she had led Sharon along the same path to destruction.
“Are you going to be alright?” asked the charge nurse.
“Sorry?”
“Can I get you a cup of tea?”
“Tea?”
Lisa was not cognisant of the world around her. All the sounds of people moving along the corridor of life had just become one confusing cacophony. The charge nurse sat on the seat beside Lisa and wrapped her arms around her. Lisa’s head fell against the woman’s bosom and the tears flowed once more. Heart-breaking sobs wracked her whole body. The nurse cradled Lisa as she would a child, hugging and rocking her to soothe the pain away. But the pain cut through Lisa mercilessly.
“Why did she have to die, why? Why couldn’t it have been me?” The nurse held her more tightly till the sobs died away.
“Do you want me to call anyone? Have you a relative that you can stay with?
“No, it’s OK, I have a friend I can call.”
Suddenly a cup of tea arrived in front of her, held by the staff nurse, Rewa Isaacs, who had looked after Sharon in ICU. Crouching in front of Lisa, she too tried to comfort her. The tea was sweet and though Lisa never took sugar in tea or coffee, this tasted so good.
Scott must have been waiting near the phone as it had barely rung before he answered it. Lisa poured out the whole story.
“She’s dead Scott. She had been taking meth like me. She must have been a user for a long time because she wasn’t the sister I knew before prison. She died of an over
dose early this evening.”
Scott listened to Lisa pour her heart out.
“She was better than me Scott, I can’t forgive myself for her death. She was in a terrible state at the end, mixed up with all the wrong sort of people.”
When the time was right Scott spoke quietly and reassuringly. “Lisa, you’re not lost. I’ll be there soon, so hang on till then. It’s just a short time to wait, OK? I know the address of the flat in Eden Terrace and I’ve phoned Alison and Caroline to come over and see you later. You remember them, from university. So, get yourself back to the flat and wait for the twins to get there. Waiting around the hospital won’t help at all. So go straight back to the flat as quickly as you can.”
Lisa heard Scott, but couldn’t motivate herself to move.
“Lisa, Lisa? Speak to me love. Tell me what’s going through your mind?”
“I don’t know what’s going through my mind, I’m just numb. I feel as if all the energy has been sucked out of me. I killed her Scott, just as much as the meth”
“Don’t think like that Lisa. She made her own choices. You can’t blame yourself for the choices your sister made. Sharon stopped talking to you long before you were imprisoned. Remember, it was she who condemned you for taking the drug. When you didn’t take any notice of what she said, she didn’t want to know you anymore.”
“I feel as if some part of me died with her, Scott.”
“Of course, you do. She was so much a part of you. You need time to grieve and the pain of her loss will always be with you, but you have to move on Lisa. You’re in the process of rebuilding your own life and Sharon wouldn’t want her death to impede that.”
“Yes, but she called me for help Scott, and I failed, I let her die.”
“She had made a choice to get more of the drug after she called you. Do you think she would glorify her death, or tell you that she stuffed up? Would she blame you for failing her or would she say to you that you have a second chance and that you must remain focused on your own recovery?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I think she would say, Lisa don’t stuff up like me. Keep going girl.”
“OK, I can hear her saying that.”
“Then focus on those words, hear them in your mind when you start to blame yourself. Now get yourself off to the flat. Alison and Caroline shouldn’t be far behind you.”
“OK then. See you tomorrow.”
When Lisa got back to the flat, Alison was already waiting for her and Caroline arrived before the kettle had boiled. Alison and Caroline were at one time best mates with Lisa and Sharon. They used to go clubbing together, and were famous for piling their handbags on the dance floor and dancing around them all night. At that point in their lives blokes were a bit like hyenas harrying the lionesses on the savannah, always sniffing round for some opportunity to get inside their knickers. The girls used to laugh about how pathetic they were. Sharon often said that such men would fuck anything if it stayed still long enough. Sharon was always a little tougher and rougher than the others. Lisa remembered fondly that Caroline, a marine biologist, imagined Sharon to be a praying mantis, tall, fine and elegant, but with the ability to eat her suitors alive. Yes, Sharon was the tough one.
The girls had bought wine, chocolate and potato chips. They had decided that the best way to fight off the gloom of Sharon’s death was to reminisce about the challenges and the comedic moments they had all shared together, specifically the trials and tribulations of life as a student. With their favourite music playing in the background, they soon got past the hugging and the crying part of the evening. Before long they had drunk two bottles of wine, eaten too much chocolate and laughed themselves silly playing Twister. After another hug and a cry, a third bottle of wine was found, and after that everything else was a blur.
***
The ringing in Caroline’s ears persisted, even though she pulled the pillow around her head to stop it.
“Oh, for God’s sake, someone answer the bloody door.”
“What door?” Croaked Alison, who was lying next to her on the king-sized bed.
“Yeh, what door? We don’t have a bedroom door, the bloke from downstairs smashed it in,” Replied Lisa, lying between Alison and the edge of the bed.
“Well, if that door is already open it must be the front door. We don’t need to answer it, do we?” Croaked Alison again, “And what’s wrong with your voice Leez? Have you swallowed a mouse?”
“Where’s a bloody mouse?” shrieked Caroline, sitting bolt upright.
“Lisa’s the bloody mouse you freak, now lie down again, you’re letting cold air in the bed.”
All three girls were giggling uncontrollably now and when the doorbell rang again, they giggled even more.
None of them wanted to answer the door alone so, they all hid beneath the bed covers, hoping that whoever it was would go away. But with the ringing now continuous, they could no longer ignore it. Taking deep breaths, they all answered the door.
“What the hell’s going on here?”
It was Scott, and once they realised it was not Pete-the-Prick they rushed back to the bedroom giggling uncontrollably.
“What’s the big joke? I’m not that funny, am I?”
There was no reply, so Scott gave up waiting for one and went to the kitchen to make some coffee.
One at a time all three girls padded into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of their eyes, each one greeting Scott with a kiss on the cheek.
“Gosh are we glad to see you, we thought it was someone else at first,” offered Alison.
“At least you’re not a mouse,” shrieked Caroline.
The giggling started afresh. So, Scott, shaking his head in disbelief, continued making the coffee.
When sense prevailed, everyone wanted to speak at the same time. However, when the doorbell rang again pandemonium ensued. As the girls huddled together Scott answered the door. It was Alex MacLean.
“Hi Lisa, I just came by to ask how your sister was”
Lisa didn’t say a word; the look on her face said everything.
“I’m so sorry. I thought she would make it once the paramedics got her to hospital. I am so sorry Lisa, I’ll go.”
As Alex turned to leave, Lisa spoke.
“No, please don’t go, we’re fine. Let me introduce you.” Once Lisa had concluded the formalities she continued;
“Alex helped me try to save Sharon. We gave it a good go too, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did,” replied a subdued Alex. “I hope you don’t mind, but I contacted the apartment supervisor about the bedroom door. They have a tradesman contracted to fix things around here. I was told that he would be here about 11.30.”
“Great,” replied Scott. “Would you like a cup of coffee? The pot has just boiled?”
“No, I can’t stay long. We’ve just moved in ourselves; we still have lots of boxes to unpack. As I said, I just came to ask about Sharon. I am so sorry for your loss Lisa. I’ll see myself out.”
Just as Alex was disappearing through the door to the hall, he turned and asked;
“Lisa, is your surname Davis by any chance?
“Yes, that’s me, why do you ask?”
Alex had to think quickly.
“Oh, it’s just the superintendent said that your sister was Sharon Duncan, that’s all.” He paused. “Do you mind if I pop by later? My wife said that she would cook a meal for you this evening.”
“Thanks that would be nice. It’s very thoughtful of her, please thank her for me.”
As Alex MacLean left the flat, he tried to remember the details of the AKA report that had linked Sharon Davis with the import of the plastic drug baggies. And didn’t the sister have a criminal record for the possession of methamphetamine? He would look up the details when he got back to work next week.
10.
Lavender’s Blue Dilly Dilly
The undulating waves of purple flowers moved in synchrony with the gentle breeze that came from the w
est. The chorus of birds and the buzzing of bees busily foraging for nectar and pollen in the January sunshine were a symphony to the ear. Bruising the stems and heads of the Lavandula angustifolia flowers intensified the fragrance that filled the air. Robert Jerman loved his work, standing amongst the fields of the Tasman Estate Lavender Farm was a feast to the senses which he never tired of. Nestled between the mountains and the sea, in the north-eastern corner of Tasmania, the 55-hectare farm was one of the largest single commercial lavender farms in the world. During December and January, when lavender flowers bloom, the rolling fields of purple are one of Tasmania's most spectacular sights. Established in 1921 by Denzel Moughan, a skilled London perfumer, Tasmania is renowned the world over for the quality of its lavender oil and prized by many fragrance manufacturers.
Robert was a quiet man who had worked for the Moughan family for more than twenty years. His grandfather, Stanislav, had been with Denzel Moughan when the first lavender seeds from the European Alps were planted in 1922. Though Robert was an Australian citizen he was also a passionate Slovenian Muslim, something which his parents Martin and Erica were not. Though few people knew, Robert had been recruited by Casimir Zupančič and joined the jihad. In July 1995 his cousins Kristina and Darinka Kuhar were brutally raped and murdered by the Serbian Army, during the ethnic cleansing of Srebrenica. Reading his father’s newspaper, The Dubrovacki-vjesnik a Dubrovnik newspaper, Robert learned that the massacre had occurred after General Bertrand Janvier, the commander of the United Nations Protection Force, refused to carry out the UN's mandate to defend the Safe Area, which included Srebrenica. Instead, he handed it over to General Ratko Mladic and the Serbian army. As a result, nearly 8000 people were tortured and killed by the Serbs. When Robert visited Casimir Zupančič, a cousin, in Zagreb during the summer of 2002, Casimir described what he had witnessed when the bodies were finally discovered. This had horrified Robert, and he declared then that he would take revenge for their deaths. Following his declaration, Casimir introduced him to Matej Korošec, who schooled Robert in the glory of the jihad. Korošec taught them both that the United States were the power brokers behind nearly every conflict across the globe and that if the US had intervened at the beginning of the troubles, when they were asked to, their cousins would still be alive. The hatred that festered inside Robert Jerman grew from those teachings. He declared that he would eagerly volunteer his life for the jihad, but Matej Korošec told him to wait.
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