The Family Cleaner, page 25
“Don’t suppose we can find out if Carter is back in the country? This is the sort of thing he’s capable of doing.”
“I’ll check, but we have a flag on the names Mathieson and Carter, so if he’s back he’s got another ID.”
Smyth ended the call and read the replies from the rest of the group.
It doesn’t look like this case is going to be my ticket out after all.
He was contemplating an early lunch when his phone rang again.
What else can go wrong today?
“DS Smyth. Whoever this is, please make my day better.”
He listened as one of Kleinberg’s data analysts told him that she had found an anomaly.
“A what?”
“I’ve been crosschecking all the Perth to Rocky flights for those ten days. As you can imagine it’s mostly FIFO workers in and out, and the same names cycle through. You asked to focus on men who just made one trip, and there was one. Someone called Jamie Scott went up and came back a week later, and I figure it’s unlikely to be a genuine FIFO worker, right?”
Smyth was elated with the news but annoyed it had taken this long. He ended the call, barely taking the time to thank the analyst, and rang Brownsill.
“Jim, we got a name. Jamie Scott,” he said.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Jamie Scott flew from Perth to Rocky and was there a week during our ten-day window.”
“What are the chances he flew into Australia in the past few days? We couldn’t be that lucky, could we? We need a bit of luck. Email the others and I’ll see if the border guys can run a check for us.”
Police Video Conference, 9th April 2019
Brownsill’s excitement was palpable.
“Roger has given us the break we’ve all been waiting for. I’ve just had it confirmed that Jamie Scott flew into Brisbane out of LA seven days ago. The security footage is clear. Although he has a full beard, it’s him for sure.”
“I have something else,” Smyth interrupted. “Forensics have confirmed the bullet that killed the old codger in Gympie came from the same type of weapon used to shoot Brown in Brisbane.”
“Well, that’s it. We have him,” Brownsill said.
“So I guess we’ll see a reappearance of the inspector?” Prosser said.
“Probably, but either way, we have Carter. We can trap him in that lie about Perth, the Mathieson twist, and now the forensics on the rifle,” Brownsill said.
“Assuming he’s still here,” Jefferson said.
“Well, he hasn’t flown out on any of known aliases.”
“Do we have footage of him posing as Jamie Scott in Rockhampton?” Jacobsen said.
“No footage, but if he wasn’t in Perth or Brisbane, at least as Mathieson, then it must be him,” Smyth said.
“We know it’s a Jamie Scott, and a Jamie Scott has flown in from LA,” Jacobsen said. “But how do you prove it’s the same Jamie Scott? We need to be careful we’re not talking ourselves into this.”
“She’s right, Roger,” Brownsill said. “I know we all want this to be the break we need, but we must establish that the person who travelled from Perth to Rocky is the same as the one from LA, and we have no footage of him on the Rocky flight.”
“So we find out who sat next to him on one of the flights. He’s a pretty big bastard, so whoever was sitting next to him would have noticed,” Smyth replied.
“It was a while ago. Those FIFO guys have probably flown twenty times since then,” Brownsill said. “Roger, can you get onto that for us and we’ll see where we go? Before we finish up, Lauren, do you have any timing of Jessica’s moves?”
“They’ve gone. Left this morning. I had a call two minutes before I came onto this call,” Jefferson said.
“Gone! Where?” Prosser said.
“They were on a flight to Helsinki via Singapore.”
“They must have this planned a while; you can’t just uproot and go that quickly,” Prosser said.
“Alright this is a development but let’s stay positive. Lauren, you do everything you can to see how they got away so smartly and where they might be. I take it you have contact with Border Force and immigration,” Brownsill said.
“Yes, I’m sending emails as we speak.”
“So we’re all buying into the scenario that somehow Carter is in league with his cousin and her wife?” Prosser asked. “And somewhere in the mix my bikies and Smyth’s Army officer are linked or just collateral.”
“He’s not my Army officer. Brisbane is overseeing that,” Smyth said.
“Yeah, we get that, but for the sake of simplicity is that what we’re proposing?” Brownsill said. “John, it was your original proposal.”
“Why in the hell is this investigation still sitting with us?” Prosser asked. “Why hasn’t it been escalated? We’re talking about major crime on a country-wide scale, with the perps wandering around Australia and travelling overseas.”
“What, don’t you think we’re capable of solving this thing?” Jacobsen asked.
“Not so far. It’s been over a year now. It’s crossing almost every jurisdiction in the country and internationally. This needs to be pushed up the food chain and bloody Kleinberg should have never left the scene.”
“He’s right, guys, you know he’s right,” Jefferson said.
“I’ve copied him in on all that we’ve found in the past few weeks without a peep from him. What do you suggest?” Brownsill said.
“I think I’ll get my boss involved. He’s asked about it a few times and when I said Victoria had leadership he backed off,” Jefferson said.
“You know if this escalates out of here Kleinberg is going to lose his shit,” Brownsill said.
“He should lose more than that. He needs to lose a stripe or two,” Prosser said.
“So, Lauren, will you escalate and let us know what happens? And for the record, if Kleinberg asks me, I know nothing ...” Brownsill said.
“Ditto,” Prosser laughed. “It’s that aggressive DS in Sydney. She escalated it and we couldn’t stop her.”
“It’s okay, guys. I don’t mind taking a hit for the team,” Jefferson said.
Fairhaven, 9th April 2019
After ditching his rifle in the Brisbane River, David, sans the beard, unwrapped the papers for an unused ID. He headed to Sydney where he picked up a flight to Melbourne.
The taxi driver needed an extra hundred dollars to convince him to take David from Tullamarine to Fairhaven, but he considered it a good investment. He didn’t want to have to use any ID to rent a vehicle. The taxi dropped him at the end of Ivy’s street.
Halfway down Ivy’s driveway, he noticed the garage doors were open. He froze; he’d been sloppy just walking in without checking. He moved into the shadows of the big old pines that lined the driveway and silently made his way to the garage.
If the doors were open, someone, most likely the cops, will have found the Subaru. Ivy would have answered anything they asked. And if they have the car, they have the weapon and the cash.
David considered his next step. As much as he trusted Pete, it was also apparent that under pressure from the police, Pete might fold. No, he would need to get help from somewhere else.
If not Pete, who can I call?
He walked back into the centre of Fairhaven, feeling vulnerable without access to a weapon, and considered whether a visit to his house was worth the risk. Otherwise, it would be back up to the Geelong storage unit. Do I have that much time?
Davide walked to his house, avoiding the direct route and taking a few back lanes, hoping his tenants were away or asleep. He waited nearby for ten minutes before moving a little closer. The lights were on, and two cars were in the driveway. He waited an hour, then checked his watch, Midnight, these guys must be night owls. Access would be risky, what he needed was in the bedroom ceiling.
Right now, time was not on his side. He couldn’t wait any longer. Plan B it is. Geelong, but how to get there?
The beautiful thing about the Holden Commodore was it was so easy to steal. And there was one parked right in front of him, so unloved it wasn’t even locked. He released the hand brake and pushed the old car fifty metres down the street. The boot lid opened with a hard tug and he found a screwdriver and jammed it in the steering lock. He fiddled in the darkness till he found the wire he needed and waited for the engine to cough into life.
He drove back up the highway to Geelong and checked his phone for the combination lock number of the storage unit. Returning from Mexico to do a job he could have outsourced hadn’t been his brightest idea. He wasn’t comfortable operating on the fly, and no plan came to mind. I really didn’t think this through.
The storage unit was one of the few that didn’t have CCTV coverage. It had been the reason he had selected this from the start. He waited behind the toilet block, where he could keep an eye on the unit and the front gate of the storage yard. He checked his watch again; nothing had moved in the fifteen minutes he had been in position. He waited another ten minutes till he was sure there was no one around, then made his way slowly. The roller door screeched as he eased it up and he hesitated, praying the noise would be lost in the other ‘night noises’. He turned on the light and recovered the four-wheel drive keys from their hiding place and the bag of cash from a cupboard. From memory, he had about two hundred thousand in the bag. He retrieved a nine-millimetre Beretta and a box of shells from a compartment under the four-wheel drive bonnet. He was starting to feel a bit more in control.
So, what now? Short of getting back to Mexico I need to get away to let things cool down a bit.
He found a burner phone in the glove box and plugged it into a nearby power socket. Time crawled till suddenly the phone beeped and he called Monahan.
“Monahan, I need some fresh papers,” he said when the lawyer’s sleepy voice answered.
“Hang on a sec.”
David waited as he heard someone say, ‘Who’s that at this hour?’
‘No one, it’s work, go back to sleep.’
“You there?” Monahan said a few seconds later.
“Sorry to wake up the missus, Monahan,” David said.
“Fuck you, Carter! You have someone threaten to shoot me, and now you want favours.”
“It’s business, I don’t want favours, I just want new papers, two sets and yesterday.”
“Hang on a sec, if you need papers, you must be back in Aus.”
David thought about the question for a second. “No.”
“Bullshit! Why should I help you?”
“’Cause you’re a greedy fucker and ’cause I can always send my friend around to see you again.”
“Fuck you, Carter. That’s going to cost you twenty each. I suspect you could have them next week.”
“I’ll give you an address in Croatia. Tell no one. And Monahan, if you hear anything about me and this case, you contact me, understand? You’ll get paid,” he said and ended the call.
He dumped the Commodore in Pakington St, Geelong and walked to the Aberdeen Motor Inn. He needed in order, a shower, a Wi-Fi connection and a bed.
The reception clerk seemed disinterested in his 3 a.m. customer; the transaction was completed, after he had finished yawning, in grunts, nods and gestures.
David looked up at the CCTV camera mounted in the corner of the room. The clerk followed his gaze and said, “Don’t worry about that, hasn’t worked in months. “The room had a familiar feel to the Bendigo motel he’d stayed in, right down to the air freshener. It wasn’t doing its job. After a long, hot shower he sat on the edge of his bed and pulled out a burner phone and inserted a new chip. The Wi-Fi password, 1,2,3,4, said everything about the security regime in the motel, which helped David relax.
He scheduled the money transfer for Monahan and sent the details of the address for the passports. Then pecked away at the keyboard to send an email to Pav.
Hi Pav,
Hope you are in good shape. I need a favour. End of next week you will get a package. Please repack and send DHL urgent to the post box in Geelong we used to use. Send addressed to Tim Mathieson. I am in a bit of trouble so need this favour.
Please confirm asap if you can help.
DC
He hit send and left the café. Minutes later his phone buzzed with a reply.
Will fix. Better if I bring. Time for holiday. Meet in forest, yes
He replied.
Perfect Pav thanks
Chapter 30
Police Video Conference, 11th April 2019
Smyth emailed the team an interview with a passenger from the Perth to Rockhampton flight.
He confirmed the picture shown to him. He remembered him ’cause the guy he sat next to didn’t speak the whole flight. Our witness is a chatterbox and when “Scott” (Carter) didn’t want to engage he made a smart-arse remark and Carter shut him down. Have asked for a written statement from him which I should have tomorrow. Surely this is enough to issue a warrant.
On a hastily arranged call, it was agreed that Smyth had jurisdiction over the issuing of a warrant after he informed his regional commander.
DS Jefferson sat on a bench seat in the park opposite Balmain Station, enjoying ten minutes outside of the office when her phone rang.
“Jefferson,” she said.
“Morning, free to talk?” Brownsill said.
“Yes, just having a coffee and a smoke in the park, you know, nothing much to do.”
“Yeah, know what you mean. So, you raised the flag with your boss, I hear.”
“Oh, I gather you got a reaction on your end?”
“You might say that; I could have heard the inspector without the aid of a phone. He cracked it. Asked how I could let it get escalated in Sydney without telling him and why didn’t I tell him about the warrant in Queensland blah, blah, blah. Went on for about ten minutes without taking a breath.”
“I hope you reminded him everything’s on the document system and he’s copied on every bloody email,” Jefferson said.
“Yeah, all of that, but he’s been caught out and he’s shitty. I couldn’t give a continental, to be honest. I just want to catch these bastards and put ’em away.”
“Do we need a call?”
“Don’t think so. Roger’s going live tonight in Queensland with his regional boss to announce the warrant. That means all the border control people and other police services will be on notice. He won’t be able to move anywhere.”
“I don’t know, Jim, this guy is slippery.”
Brisbane Ranges National Park, 13th April 2019
David arrived at the track that lead into the old plantation site with enough provisions to last a couple of weeks. He covered the four-wheel drive with brush and made his way to the quad bike. He had convinced Pav to leave it well hidden; somehow he knew he’d be back one day.
He set up trips and telltales along the path to warn him of intruders and checked that his sat phone was working and charged.
He relaxed with a beer and contemplated the next couple of weeks, and the folly of returning to deal with Jessica’s problem.
His phone buzzed with a message.
My inside sources advise Qld police issued a warrant. If you are in Aus, keep your head down. No forensics but they can place you in Rocky M
“Fuck!” David said.
He called Monahan. “So they believe I concocted a set-up to cover me being in two places at once?”
“Pretty much. It was hard to get details, they’re keeping the investigation tight. The best I could find out is that they know it wasn’t you in the Margaret River and they have you ID’d in Rockhampton. They’ve cross-matched at least two of your fake IDs. I could go in and provide a statement on your behalf, but I’m not sure what it would achieve. If I were you I’d just stay away from Australia.”
“Thanks for the advice,” he said. “What do I owe you?”
“Twenty should cover it.”
“Greedy bastard,” he said and ended the call.
This changed everything. He would need to change his appearance, and he needed those new IDs now. He figured a week to get them over to Pav and then a few days back. Say ten at best.
He thought about a plausible reason for faking his whereabouts, but nothing jumped out at him. No longer relaxed, he paced the plantation.
What I wouldn’t give for a joint right now.
He mounted the quad bike and spent the rest of that day and the next checking out three escape routes. It kept him occupied and made him feel like he was on the offensive, although against what he was unsure.
Police Video Conference, 20th April 2019
Kleinberg joined the call late. “Sorry, everyone, had a bit on. Where are we?”
“Nice of you to join, Inspector, it’s been a while,” Brownsill said.
“Very droll, Detective Sergeant. Assume I am up to speed on all that you have posted. I’ve spoken with your boss, Smyth, well done on the warrant. That should cause Carter some heartache. Jefferson, no further news on Jessica Chisholm’s movements?”
“No, sir, these international cooperation processes move like treacle. I’m not even convinced our request has even moved outside of immigration. I do know it’s about to be posted to Interpol. But even that is slow. All we know is they got off a flight in Helsinki.”
“Pity she’s not around. I’ve just come off the phone with the South Australian police. I would have liked to hear her reaction to what they told me,” Kleinberg said and waited.
No one took the bait. The wait extended an embarrassing length of time until Brownsill said, “What’s that, sir?”
“It seems that Jessica Chisholm was seconded to the South Australian Forensics group eighteen months ago to review the processes relating to the Snowtown murders. She could have taken possession of the fingerprint forensics.”
“How would you even do that? I mean, transfer fingerprints from evidence and re-use them later,” Jacobsen asked.
“It can be done if the original print was on the right type of surface,” Kleinberg said. “I had a very enlightening conversation with a very young forensic technician who explained to me how it works. I’ve posted his note on the server so you can be similarly enlightened. If the print is on a hard surface they can use an alcohol mist and lift the print from the original surface to another. Anyway, the details are on the server.”
