Crystal Ice

by Warren Miner-Williams

  Pete Rupene started to scream like a baby and his brother Brian, who had soiled himself, continued to beg for mercy. Only Ngaire remained silent. With her face turned to the ground as she passively accepted her fate. Now they were going to experience for themselves the pain and suffering that they had meted out to Andrew Kuri. Sonny promised them it would be a long night.

  ***

  Thursday again and ten pin bowling was the game. Alex MacLean was winning and his buddies were whinging, as usual. Alex, Tony Boucher, Doug Asher and Andy Williamson had once again met up for their weekly ‘bloke’s night out’ at the Manukau Superstrike on Great South Road. This night Alex wasn’t just winning, he was slaughtering his opposition by over one hundred points. Every time he got up to bowl his three buddies booed him, every time he got a strike, which was most of the time, they called him a cheat. They, on the other hand had only had four strikes between them. Alex admitted that he was using a voodoo spell he had read about to sabotage their game and shouted how pathetic they were every time they failed to knock all the pins over. None of them were bothered by the noise they were making, as it all added to the atmosphere of competitive bowling.

  “Alex,” said Doug Asher whilst Tony Boucher was trying to get his first strike of the night, “you know that guy you wanted me to check on, Tony Graham-Collins? Well, I couldn’t find any record of wrong-doing for him. Not even a speeding ticket. Clean as a whistle. But guess what? His seventeen-year-old daughter is on the books already, a written warning for smoking weed. So, your theory isn’t all fiction, at least one of them is a druggie.”

  “Oh well, when you aim for a strike and just get a couple of pins down it isn’t all a wasted effort, as you well know tonight.”

  You cheeky bugger, I should tell you to do your own police checks from now on. But I won’t. This must be the final nail in your conspiracy coffin now though surely?”

  “I suppose so, but I just can’t seem to let it go, I just have this feeling that he’s bent.”

  Alex’s chin dropped as his theory about Graham-Collins had run aground again.

  “Shit, you’ve only been in the job five minutes. It takes a lifetime of experience to have “feelings” about someone. I should know.”

  “Since when has ten years being a plod been a lifetime’s experience?”

  “I feel so bloody old these days, it feels like a lifetime. Believe me the job isn’t getting any easier.”

  Tony Boucher came over to the scoring console and stared at his two buddies talking shop, again.

  “Are you two going to chat all night, or do you need a written invitation to bowl?”

  “OK, keep your bloody hair on we professionals are talking important business here.”

  “Come on guys, leave your work at the office, this is bowling time. See if you can miss altogether this time Doug, I’ll get the beers in.”

  Though Alex was winning the bowling, he felt defeated as his pet theory crashed and burned.

  20. Damage Limitation

  “Come on Tony, answer your bloody phone,” Nadine Graham-Collins said aloud. She was becoming increasingly annoyed at her husband for switching his mobile phone off during the day. She thought that he was always trying to dodge the responsibilities that fatherhood brought. She could never believe that he was busy and couldn’t be disturbed so often. What was he, an international spy? Nadine waited for another ten rings, and then put the phone down. Bugger! she thought.

  In desperation she dialled the restaurant, Terra Brasil. The number she had been given would put her through to the office where Tony, had his desk. In fact, it put her through to Dino Sutic’s office who would field any questions about Graham-Collins, who was not and never had been his manager. Dino had organised a separate extension for Graham-Collins at The Finches. Whenever that extension rang it would be answered as if it were part of the restaurant, by Tony or his assistant, Petera Mokaraka.

  Nadine clicked her tongue impatiently. “Come on Tony where the bloody hell are you?” She said out loud.

  She could never know that Tony and Dino Sutic were both in Mount Maunganui, waiting for the docking of the MV Olga Tovic.

  As there was no reply from his mobile and no reply from his office, in frustration, Nadine rang the maître d’ in the restaurant itself. This time the telephone was answered immediately.

  “Good afternoon, Terra Brasil. Simone Lewis speaking, how may I help?”

  “Oh, hello Ms Lewis, I trying to get hold my husband, the restaurant manager. Is he there? We have a small family crisis.”

  “I’m terribly sorry Mrs Sutic, but he is away today. Can I take a message? I might be able to reach him on his mobile.”

  “No Ms Lewis, my name is Graham-Collins, not Sutic. My husband, Tony Graham-Collins, is your restaurant manager, Mr Sutic is the owner.”

  “I’m sorry Mrs Graham…Collins, I am afraid your husband doesn’t work here. Mr Sutic is our manager. You must have the wrong restaurant. This is Terra Brasil.”

  “Look don’t muck me about, Ms Lewis, I know my husband is your manager, I’ve had lunch with him there on numerous occasions. Please tell me where he is”

  “Mrs Collins, there must be some mistake your husband doesn’t work here.”

  “How long have you worked there Ms Lewis? At this rate it won’t be for much longer.”

  “I am new to the staff, so perhaps I have made an error. I’ll put you through to Mr Levorko Sutic. Please hold.”

  Now Nadine had some automated music to contend with and her patience was at an all-time low. She was ready to ‘blow a fuse’ if the next idiot said her husband didn’t work there.

  “Hi Nadine, how can I help you?”

  “Ah someone with a brain at last. I’m sorry to disturb you Levorko, I’m looking for Tony, I need him to pick Carol up. Naomi’s broken her wrist at school and has been taken to Greenlane Hospital, I need to get over there as soon as I can.”

  “Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that, I do hope she’ll be alright. Look, Tony’s with Dino in Tauranga this afternoon, looking at some property there. I’ll get a message to him as soon as I can, but in any case, it’ll still take him a couple of hours to drive back. Let me help you. I can pick Carol up for you and drop her at home.”

  “Thanks, Levorko that would be good. If you don’t mind, that is”

  “Of course, Nadine, I don’t mind at all.”

  “She’ll be at the front gate of MacLean’s College at 4’.”

  “Tell her to look out for me. I’ll be in the gold Merc’.”

  “Brilliant, I’ll tell her. Before I go, Levorko what’s the problem with Simone Lewis? She said she’s never heard of Tony, and that he isn’t your manager.”

  Levorko’s response was casual, expertly hiding the truth.

  “Oh, just a minor misunderstanding. She’s just started today and as Tony isn’t here, she hasn’t been introduced to him yet. I’ll get that sorted right away. I do hope Naomi will be OK, do you mind if I send her some flowers? It might help take the pain away.”

  “That would be lovely, she’d like that. And thanks very much for your help, Levorko.”

  “Not a problem Nadine, always willing to help. Take care now and I’ll see you soon.

  “Goodbye, and thanks again.”

  Levorko Sutic speed dialled his brother’s mobile phone, apprised him of the situation with Simone Lewis and told him about Naomi Graham-Collins’ accident and his offer to help out.

  “OK, sort Simone out and pick Carol up. We’re just waiting for Goran to appear, so we’ll be a couple of hours at least. Our rendezvous with the Olga Tovic is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for; we don’t want to stuff that up. I understand that the Customs have been a little more inquisitive this time, so we’ll have to wait for the dust to settle before we can get on board legitimately. Explain to Nadine that we’re in delicate negotiations for this new restaurant and that we have to wine and dine the local council guys about a licence, or some other bollocks. Then when we�
��re on our way back I’ll give you another call and you can brief us on what you have said. Does that sound OK?

  “Yes. Bit of an unforeseen problem this one, some damage limitation is necessary I believe. But I’ll get it sorted and wait for your call.”

  The moment Levorko had rung off, Dino gave Tony the news, then told him what he had decided.

  Tony nodded. “Don’t worry Dino, I’ll smooth over the cracks, everything will be OK, I promise.”

  “I certainly hope so. We don’t want any fuck-ups now do we? Perhaps your wife would like some flowers too. We’ll get some for you to give to her. Women always appreciate flowers Tony, remember that.”

  ***

  It was 9pm before Dino and Tony could legitimately get on board the MV Olga Tovic. Both were wheeling a cargo trolley upon which were stacked three cases of Smirnoff, enough vodka to throw a party for the entire crew for a week. But partying was the last thing on their mind. Secured beneath the vodka, in a hidden compartment, was the real reason for their visit, the freeze-dried albumin that contained the influenza virus. The ship was ablaze with lights and bustling with activity as the crew got ready to unload some of their cargo. The Olga Tovic was due to sail again inside twelve hours, so speed was the key. Its next port of call would be its homeport, Trieste.

  “Welcome aboard the MV Olga Tovic, gentlemen,” said Captain Goran Sumovich as Dino and Tony came aboard. Dino and Goran exchanged kisses on either cheek, Tony just got a handshake.

  “You must be Dr Collins?”

  “Yes. Good evening, Captain Sumovich.”

  “Thank you, Dr Collins, for your work on this project, your expertise has been invaluable. Please step this way Dino, I have all the necessary equipment that you will require in cargo hold two.”

  Just before moving off, Sumovich turned to a sailor behind him.

  “Get those cases of vodka brought aboard and set them down in hold two. Be quick please, we don’t want some nosey stevedore stealing our vodka, there is some serious drinking to be done celebrating our journey home.”

  “Dino, Dr Collins, this way please. By the time we have coffee everything should be ready for us in cargo hold 2.

  As the three men headed aft, to Captain Sumovich’s cabin, they could hear the clink of the vodka bottles being brought aboard.

  Captain Sumovich’s cabin was in fact four inter-connected rooms: the main lounge/office, a smaller bedroom, a small kitchen and separate bathroom. The main cabin was opulently fitted out with European oak panels and a plush red carpet. It was quiet and warm, with subdued lighting from four strategically placed table lamps, a welcome haven from the harsh lighting of the companionways outside and the business of trans-shipping cargo.

  “Gentlemen, please have a seat and help yourselves to coffee. It’s been a long, stressful evening, trying to convince our friends in the New Zealand Customs that we are not carrying any contraband. This time, ironically, we are not. Do you wish to grab something to eat? I can get some fresh sandwiches brought up, or something hot if you prefer”

  “Sandwiches will be fine Goran. I think I can speak for Tony too when I say we’re both starving. We had no way of knowing how long the customs boys would be, so we haven’t had anything since lunch.”

  “While we are waiting, I have some news that won’t particularly please you Dino. Can I speak freely?” said Sumovich, looking across at Tony.

  Tony took the hint, said that he would be out on deck watching the transfer of cargoes, and left the cabin.

  “What’s the matter Goran?”

  “I’ve decided to retire, Dino. I’m getting old and weary of being away from my family. I’ve been at sea for nearly my entire life and I’ve only been with my family for a fraction of that time. I want to be with Sara and watch my grandchildren grow up.”

  Dino paused for a moment. The announcement that Goran wanted to retire had been anticipated, though not at this crucial stage.

  “That’s certainly big news but not completely unexpected. Do you want to stay ashore on your return to Trieste, or can we count on you for just one more journey?"

  “It would be good if this was my last journey, but I appreciate that you’ll need to find someone else to take my place. We’ve been coaching my number one, Gregor Bukovac, to take my place for some time now and I think he’s ready. Although he hasn’t been in our inner circle, or been one of the decision-makers, he does know and supports what we are doing. His family has suffered, like yours and mine Dino. He’s loyal and trustworthy and it’s time he took over.”

  “You’re right, it is time. I fully support your retirement Goran, though I wish that you would consider taking one last trip for us. We’ve achieved some great things together. Levorko and I couldn’t have done it without you. Perhaps you could school Gregor in our ways on your journey home and, if you’re sure he’s ready, then there may be no need for you to take another voyage.”

  Dino and Goran Sumovich rose simultaneously and hugged each other. They were closer than merely friends they were brothers-in-arms.

  ***

  Tony Graham-Collins carefully removed the security seals from each of the five drums of lavender oil and set them to one side. He opened the first of the drums and the lavender fragrance was almost overpowering in the steel confines of the cargo hold. It took many minutes for the ships ventilation system to clear the fumes. Sumovich, standing on the deck above, caught the tell-tale smell and wondered if anyone on the dock would realise what they were doing. Taking the first of the five bags of albumin from their hiding place below the bottles of vodka, Graham-Collins carefully cut off a corner of the polythene bag and slowly tipped its contents into the first drum of lavender oil. There would be no need to mix the contents, the albumen would rapidly disperse and dissolve in the essential oil, long before it reached the shores of America.

  Every precaution had been taken to ensure that none of the albumin powder would escape into the atmosphere of the hold, Graham-Collins was fully equipped with breathing apparatus, a disposable plastic suit and double latex gloves. Although he had no idea of the virulence of the viruses he had cultured, he knew there was a serious risk of infection. It took him an hour and forty minutes to complete the process and re-seal the drums with the new seals that Robert Jerman had provided. Putting all his rubbish into zip-lok bags for burning later, he washed thoroughly under the chemical spillage shower in the corner of the hold before he removed his protective clothing. Bundling everything into a large canvas bag, he left the hold and its deadly cargo to the crew, who would soon transfer it to the lorry waiting on the dock. When he stepped back on deck and into the cool night air, Graham-Collins was exhausted. Drenched in sweat, he desperately needed a hot shower and a change of clothing.

  “All done?” It was Dino, standing in the shadows behind him.

  Tony jumped. “Shit, you gave me a fright. Yes, everything’s done, all sealed and ready to be off-loaded.”

  “Excellent. Let’s get you showered and changed, then we’ll leave everything else to Goran.”

  ***

  Mary Rewaka was always picking up her husband’s dirty washing from the floor of the bedroom. No matter what she said to Sonny, she couldn’t change his bad habits.

  “Sonny, you’ve got blood on your jeans. Have you been cut?”

  “No, it’s not my blood.”

  Mary almost dared not ask. “Oh, whose is it then?”

  “It’s from the Rupene brothers. They were the guys who attacked Andrew Kuri. They needed their focus on life adjusted. Did you go and see Andrew today?”

  “Yes. He’s still very crook. The doctors said that he should recover, but it’s going to take a long time. And he’s going to be crippled for the rest of his life.”

  “Good to know he’ll mend.”

  “What happened with the Rupene brothers then?”

  “They’d tracked down Sarah Heta, to her aunt’s place in Turangi. They were going to kill her, but we got there first. We got her away safely and th
en waited for the bad boys to arrive.”

  “Oh. Is everything OK?”

  “Yeh, it’s all sorted now.”

  “Oh, good.”

  Mary knew that it was not good to probe too much. She knew she would get the whole story eventually; she always did. Sonny was obviously not in a talkative mood. Gang war, the struggle for control, was always a delicate matter; there was always a lot of posturing, then threats, then the violence, always quick and always cruel. But there hadn’t been much blood spilt for a long time, Sonny and Danny had ruled well and there wasn’t anyone strong enough to challenge their authority. Until now. Danny’s death had created a shit storm within the sub-culture of his friends and family. Sonny had been prepared though, and a lot of disgruntled Tua loyalists had backed off after the posturing phase. They knew Sonny and they realised that the violent phase would be unmerciful. Ngaire, though, was too thick to realise this, and her unqualified hatred of Sonny had been counter-productive. Only Janet Packwood, Vince Eremia’s de facto, and the Rupene brothers, had remained loyal to Ngaire. The attempted murder of sweet Andrew Kuri had somewhat alienated Ngaire and her motley crew. The attempted murder of Sarah Heta and the injuries to her aunt, Ada Henare, would alienate her even more, if she even survived.