Crystal Ice

by Warren Miner-Williams

  38. Amongst the Ruins

  “Oh God, oh God no,” mumbled Tony Graham-Collins as he put the phone down.

  “What’s the matter darling?” asked Nadine anxiously.

  “Oh no,” repeated Graham-Collins ignoring his wife. “Oh God, oh God.”

  Nadine went over to her husband and put her arm around him. “Tell me Tony, what’s happened. Tell me.” There was still no response, so she shook him gently. “Tell me what’s happened? Tony, you’re frightening me.”

  Tony seemed to be in a trance, rocking backwards and forwards, repeating the same thing over and over again. She hugged her husband, stroking his hair and asking him gently what had happened. Eventually she got through to him. As Tony turned to face Nadine, she saw tears rolling down his cheeks.

  “It’s all over,” he sobbed, “our lives are finished.”

  Nadine was perplexed.

  “Don’t speak like that Tony, tell me what’s happened.” Now Nadine was beginning to worry.

  “No, not yet, I must ring Dino first.” Tony relied.

  Picking up the phone, he rang Dino’s number. After two seconds he dialled another number. “He’s at the Mount,” Tony said over his shoulder. It took nearly half a minute for the phone to be answered by an annoyed and still-sleepy Dino Sutic.

  “Yes, who is this? Do you know what bloody time it is?”

  “Dino, it’s me, Tony. There’s been a fire at The Finches.”

  Is the place OK? Was it a small one?”

  “No, the whole place is ablaze. The police and the fire brigade will be there by now. The whole thing’s fucked, everything’s gone.”

  The line went dead. Tony was still holding the telephone to his ear when Nadine spoke again.

  “Tony,” she said more firmly, having not made any sense of the half conversation that she had just heard, “tell me what has happened.”

  Tony stood up and paced nervously backward and forward, speaking rapidly.

  “I’m not a restaurant manager, I am still a chemist. I work at a farm near Papakura, manufacturing methamphetamine for Dino and Levorko Sutic. Someone has set the farm buildings on fire, someone in the gang with a grudge.”

  “Methamphetamine? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a drug, a class A fucking drug, and I’ve been manufacturing the stuff for Dino. The police are bound to find out who has been at the farm….”

  “You said gang,” she interrupted, “What do you mean by that, the Mafia or something?”

  “No, the Skorpions. They’re a motorcycle gang who buy the drugs off Dino.

  “You mean a gang like the Hells Angels?”

  “Yes, sort of….”

  “Sort of? What do you mean sort of? Are they the guys we see on the TV behind steel walls, who push drugs to school kids? You mean those murdering bastards are your customers?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  “You’re telling me you’ve been making drugs for Sutic? I can’t believe this, the man I’m married to is a bloody gangster not a restaurant manager?”

  “Where do you think the money came from for this house? A money tree? No restaurant manager could afford this place. Your life is the way it is because of me and the money.”

  Nadine had heard enough. She slapped the stranger who stood before her as hard as she could. As Tony’s head twisted to the left, she hit him again, this time with her fist. Tony staggered backwards, dazed.

  She screamed at him. “I don’t know who you are anymore, but I do know that you’re endangering this family. Pack a bag Tony, I don’t want you anywhere near this house. Get a bag and go, NOW!”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” he said defiantly, “This is my house, it has my name on the deed, you can’t make me go anywhere. Besides Nadine I...”

  Nadine picked up the phone and punched in the numbers 1. 1., she paused before hitting the final 1. “Get the fuck out of this house, you thoughtless bastard, or I’ll complete the number.”

  “Nadine, listen to me. I did it all for us, for this family. I tried to get a proper job but this was too good to turn down. It’s paid for this house and all the holidays; it’s paid for every stick of furniture...”

  “You have ten seconds,” she interrupted “to get your things. Or I’ll ring the police and they can get you out. Don’t think I won’t either. Every second you’re in this house we’re in danger. GET, OUT!”

  At that moment Naomi appeared at the door.

  “Mum, what’s all the shouting about?”

  “Dad and I have just had an upsetting telephone call, we’ve just been arguing about it, that’s all. Go back to bed love, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “What was the phone call about?”

  “Naomi, go back to bed now, I’ll be there in a minute,” Nadine commanded. Naomi was hurt by the tone of her mother’s voice, but did as she was told and went back to her bedroom.

  With her daughter gone, Nadine renewed her efforts to get Tony out.

  “Get out of this house Tony, now,” she hissed, “or I’ll not only tell the police, I’ll tell your daughters as well what you’ve been up to. Is that perfectly clear to you?”

  “Yes, I’ll go,” he stammered.

  “Be warned Tony, if you’re still here when I come back, the next room you’ll see will be a prison cell. You’re finished in this family Tony, completely finished.”

  As Nadine went to comfort her youngest daughter, Tony staggered around the bedroom, collecting the things he would need for a few days in a motel, until Nadine calmed down and changed her mind.

  As Tony closed the front door and walked to his car, he tucked the house keys into his pocket, convinced that the situation would all blow over in a few days and then he would be back home again.

  ***

  Four fire appliances attended The Finches, two from Papakura and two from Pukekohe. Because of the nature of the fire, the hazardous flammable chemicals stored inside, the blaze was fought from the outside and being less effective three of the farm buildings were gutted. The three buildings that were not burnt were all set apart from the others, and as a result a large shed and the two deep litter pig barns were more easily saved. By the time the Fire Investigation team arrived there was little left of the bungalow or the three main farm buildings. It was obvious from the start that the fires were the result of arson, as the bungalow was over half a kilometre from the farm and coincidence was not part of the investigation team’s remit. The investigation into how a fire started had its empirical components, but the forensic analysis of a fire was a more exact science, based on theory and pure logic, not speculation or guesswork. However, one question stood out more than any other – where were the owners? By 7.00am a body had been found in the burnt-out shell of one of the buildings and the ESR – Environmental Science & Research – forensic team were called. By 8.00am the body of a man had been discovered on Great South Road, just opposite the farm. By 8.30am a television news team was at the entrance to the farm, with a second team on the other side of the motorway, on Great South Road. The first speculative television report was aired at 9.00am, and The Finches quickly became national news.

  One of the first policemen on the scene was Alex MacLean’s friend, Doug Asher, the community constable for Papakura. Until the senior officers arrived Doug liaised with the fire brigade and secured both scenes of crime, the Great South Road site with the near headless body of a young male and The Finches farm building that contained the mysterious woman’s body. From the moment Doug arrived at The Finches, and was briefed by the fire brigade regarding the circumstances of the fire, he knew that this was Alex’s meth lab. From what Alex had told him Tony Graham-Collins was the cook, therefore securing evidence to link the farm with the English chemist was a priority. Telling Alex what they had found was also a priority, as he was presenting his theories to his bosses later that day.

  “Hi Alex,” said Doug, after calling Alex’s mobile number. “I thought that I would give you the heads up about what t
ranspired in my neck of the woods early this morning. There was a fire at a farm near Runciman, I think it’s your boy’s meth lab.”

  Alex was stunned.

  “Really? Tell me about it.”

  “Well, I’ll have to be quick, because I’m the senior plod here at present. First, none other than Pete Rupene, has been found near the farm with his throat cut, almost decapitated.”

  “Brilliant. He was the guy remember who was poking Sharon Davis, the ex-model druggie I told you about.”

  “Yes, I thought he was. The farm is at the end of Harrison Road, there’s a bungalow at the entrance to the property and that’s been set on fire too, probably the home of whoever looked after the place. That place is just a shell now, so we won’t get much evidence from there. Of the farm buildings, three have been gutted by fire and it was in one of those buildings that we found a second body. We think it’s a woman but it’ll take a small miracle to identify her. One of the buildings that has survived the firestorm must have been a storeroom; it’s full of solvents and other chemicals. I’ve only had a cursory inspection myself, but two things found in there match what you’ve told me already. Number one; five 210 litre drums of ether with labels for “Uni-Glue NZ Limited” down in Hamilton, and Number two; an industrial- size egg incubator. What do you think of those couple of gems?

  “Bloody brilliant. Do you think you’ll get any fingerprints to link Graham-Collins to the farm?”

  “Absolutely certain, this was a working lab until the fire, they wouldn’t have cleaned things in the storeroom before they fled. Why they didn’t torch the storeroom I don’t know, because I’m sure it’ll provide all the evidence we need to nail the bastards.”

  This will corroborate a lot of the circumstantial evidence I’ve already dug up.” Alex’s voice was jubilant. “I have to present my theories to my boss later today.”

  “I thought it might help. Look I’ve got to fly, give us a call later I’d like to know the result of your presentation.”

  “Thanks Doug, you’re a star, see you later.”

  Once the forensic team arrived at the farm, a picture started to emerge about what had transpired that night. On Great South Road there was insufficient blood found at the scene for Pete Rupene to have been killed where he lay. Later that day police found the burnt-out shell of a stolen Holden Commodore on some waste ground near Wiri. That in itself wasn’t significant, but the bloody, size six footprints leading away from the car were. The footsteps ended abruptly too, indicating that whoever made them, probably a woman, arrived in the Commodore and left in another car.

  Whoever worked the meth lab must have left the farm in a great hurry, judging by the wealth of evidential material they had left behind in the storeroom and what remained of the bungalow. Before senior CIB, – Criminal Investigation Branch – officers arrived Doug Asher had found out from the Manukau City Council offices that the farm was owned by a Petera Mokaraka. Having been given a name, the criminal profile of Mokaraka took Doug Asher only seconds to establish. A patched member of the Skorpion motorcycle gang, Mokaraka had been convicted of a variety of offences, principally assault. He had dropped off the police radar five years ago when he inherited the farm from an aunt, Ellen Reihana. Doug could recall having trouble with her son Tio Reihana, another trouble making turd like Pete Rupene. Doug recalled something about Tio that had occurred last year. He couldn’t recall what it was exactly, though he had a vague recollection he had died. He called the control room on his mobile phone and asked the sergeant to see if there had been any formal report regarding Tio Reihana’s death. Sure, enough there had – Reihana had been washed overboard in a storm in the Mediterranean Sea. He had been a stoker’s mate aboard none other than, the MV Olga Tovic.

  Doug quickly realised the importance of this little gem and rang Alex immediately. Alex didn’t pick up, so Doug left a message on his voice-mail, spelling out what he had discovered regarding the ownership of the lab and its connection to the MV Olga Tovic.

  Just before Alex met with his boss, he listened to his voice-mail and smiled, Doug Asher was a gem. It was another vital piece of the jigsaw corroborating his theory that Tony Graham-Collins had been the meth cook employed by the Sutic brothers, that they were possibly involved with the recent bioterrorist attack in the US and that the MV Olga Tovic was the ship at the centre of their smuggling operation.

  ***

  When Sonny Rewaka met with the team of soldiers who were assigned to prevent Ngaire Rakena from torching his meth lab he was ominously calm. Having been told what had transpired at the farm by Steve Honetana he stood in silence for nearly five minutes, in part, pondering what he should do next. If Sonny was to remain in power as the leader of the Skorpions he had to appear both wise and ruthless. Jewson Street, Otara, was no place to conduct the interview he planned with this bunch of retards, so he postponed that until the evening. In the meantime, he put Reuben Waiwiri in handcuffs. Now he had to deal with the Sutic brothers. He dialled the number of Dino’s latest cell phone.

  Dino’s voice betrayed his tension. “What went on at the Finches last night, Sonny?”

  When Sonny outlined all that he knew, Dino said nothing for over a minute. At last he spoke.

  “Have the police any evidence to link us to the farm?”

  “No,” lied Rewaka, purposely omitting the fact that one building had not been destroyed. “Petera knew of you, but he was never privy to your identity or your whereabouts. The farm is registered in his name, so his identity will be known to the authorities. Petera knows this and is in hiding. He’ll also be connected to the Skorpions, so we’ll probably get a visit from the pigs, but they won’t get anything out of us, be assured of that. You’d better check with your own man though, about his name being connected to the lab.”

  There was another pause, then:

  “So, the police will know it’s a meth lab, and they will soon discover that Mokaraka was involved. But that’s all they will know. Am I reading the situation correctly?”

  “Yes Dino, that’s correct.”

  “OK then, we’ll wait a few months, then start up somewhere else. Somewhere in the boonies, far away from either of us. Then when we have a place earmarked, I’ll give you the money and whoever you choose to replace Mokaraka can buy the place.”

  “That’s fine, I’ve got a place in mind up North, beyond Whangarei. I’ll suss it out and let you know if it’s suitable. Is there anything in the pipeline to tide us over?”

  “Nothing in a form that we can sell directly. So, we’ll have to shut everything down till we know for sure that everything’s still secure. I’ll text you my next secure number later. Now, about this fuck up. I expect you to make an example of those who were incompetent tonight, and I’ll expect to hear about it pretty soon.”

  “I don’t tell you how to run your end of the business, so don’t tell me how to run mine. I’ll deal with this our way,” said Sonny forcefully.

  “Message understood. Right then, till later.”

  Sonny put the phone down, “Steve,” said Sonny to Honetana, his most competent soldier, “you can partly redeem yourself by finding Ngaire Rakena and the Rupene brothers. Don’t harm them, I want that pleasure. Gather all the boys who were at the farm last night. I think we need to visit the Hunua Ranges tonight. Now fuck off and find Rakena.”

  ***

  “Hi honey!” called Alex MacLean as he opened the door of their apartment in Eden Terrace. “What’s for dinner? It certainly smells good.”

  Leanne emerged from the kitchen, a glass of wine in each hand. She smiled at Alex. “Fruits of the vine for the all-conquering hero.”

  Alex kissed her, before taking one of the glasses.

  “Well, tell us how it went. Give me all the good news. And how much more they are going to pay you now that you have been promoted,” she joked.

  “Promotion? Shit I wish. But all past misdemeanours have been forgotten. They all listened to what I had to say, and complimented me on my flow c
hart. They were bowled over by what Doug told me this morning. I’m starving what’s for dinner?”