Читать книгу Choices - Jeff Edwards - Страница 20

Diane held on for her life as Pile slid their government car past a semitrailer as it turned into one of the many enormous warehouse seemingly piled on top of one another in the new industrial complex at Wallgrove.

Pile seemed unconcerned that overtaking the long vehicle as it was turning on these narrow streets was akin to attempting suicide as the oncoming traffic was hidden from view until the very last moment.

Diane gripped the handle above the door in grim desperation. It’s alright for you, she muttered, you’re not far off retirement, but I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.

Trying to keep the quaver of fear out of her voice she said loudly, ‘We’re not in that much of a hurry. You can take your time.’

Pile glanced over at his partner. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise. This is how I drive normally. It works in Canberra.’

‘We’ve got proper wide roads at home built by decent planners. Not like these narrow goat tracks the developers put in. I’d hate to have to drive around here during peak hour.’

‘That’s why I want to get there, get it all done, and be on our way.’

Diane consulted the sat nav on the dashboard. ‘We’ll be there soon. It’s just around the corner.’

When Diane had received her latest assignment from Graeme Connors she had needed to select a partner as all agents were required to do their field work in pairs, for reasons of both over-sight and safety. From the roster of unassigned agents she had chosen the maturity of Pile in preference to one of the much younger agents, deciding that a mission like this would be seen as too boring for a younger person. When she initially outlined the task to Pile he was glad to join her and get out of the over-crowded office. He was prepared to do anything to escape the endless paperwork which was accumulating in his in tray.

Diane gave a sigh of relief when they finally pulled into the parking area in front of the factory unit displaying the large Taxico sign. An array of dusty taxis were parked nearby and Diane could see that most of them had seen better days. They displayed a variety of nicks and bumps that had been hastily beaten back into some semblance of shape before being covered with a thin layer of paint. ‘I’ll bet none of them has less than half a million kilometres on them,’ she said with a look of disdain.

‘They’d never be allowed out on the road in Canberra,’ nodded Pile.

Inside the factory unit they found that the ground floor consisted of a large workshop where three taxis were up on hoists while a trio of men in grease stained overalls worked on them. In the corner of the unit was a recreation room and toilet where the drivers took their obligatory breaks, or awaited the arrival of the vehicles they would be taking out on their next shift.

A short staircase outside the recreation room led to an office area. The agents climbed the metal stairs and opened the door. Inside they found a series of small cubicles and a miniscule reception area. Diane noted that one of the cubicles held a large two-way radio console, and that it was being operated by a female who appeared to be of African heritage. Disappointed that Travers was not present Diane turned her attention to the reception desk where the company’s owner Bob Clements had installed his wife to answer the phones, mainly as a cost cutting measure rather than for her ability as a telephonist.

Ailsa looked up from the magazine on her desk. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked Pile.

Pile produced his identification. ‘Agent Pile from ASIO, and this is my boss, Agent Hall. We’d like to talk to a Mr Dan Travers. Is he here?’

‘Sorry! I thought you must be the boss,’ blushed Ailsa. She turned to Diane. ‘It’s too early. He’s not here yet.’

‘Do you know where I might find him?’ asked Diane.

‘At home I suppose.’

Pile shook his head. ‘We’ve been there. The house is empty.’

Ailsa turned toward one of the cubicles where a middle-aged man had his back to the door and was hunched over a computer keyboard. ‘Bob!’ she called. ‘There are some people here from ASIO.’

Bob Clements spun around in his chair at the mention of a federal government agency, his face suddenly losing its colour. ‘ASIO?’

‘They want to speak to Dan,’ explained Ailsa.

‘He’s not here.’

‘So we’ve been told,’ said Pile. ‘We were wondering if you can help us.’

Clements stood and made his way over to the reception desk. ‘Ailsa,’ he began, ‘could you go downstairs and make me a cup of coffee?’

‘Um, sure.’

Diane watched as the woman scurried outside and down the stairs. She also noted that one of the cubicles off the reception area held both a soft drink machine and a coffee maker.

‘Now, what did you want to know?’ asked Clements with a look of utter innocence painted on his face.

‘We wanted to know where we can find Dan Travers.’

Clements’ answer was interrupted by loud, foreign sounding voices coming from downstairs. All sounded agitated, and were quickly followed by the sound of slamming car doors and squealing tyres.

‘He should be at home,’ said Clements over the din.

‘He’s not there,’ replied Pile.

‘If he’s not here, and he’s not there, then he must be at the beach.’

‘The beach? Which beach?’

Clements shrugged. ‘Wherever the surf is running, but I think he prefers the north side of the harbour. It’s easier for him to get to, but I know he’ll go as far south as Wollongong if the waves are right.’

Ailsa returned with a chipped mug of coffee and placed it on the desk in front of her husband who ignored it completely.

‘Who does he go on these surfing expeditions with?’ asked Diane.

‘No one as far as I know. He goes alone. You don’t need help to surf.’

‘He has no friends?’

‘Not that I know of. We haven’t known him that long have we Ailsa?’

‘No. Not long.’

‘Does he have any friends here? Who does he talk to?’

‘No one, just us, occasionally. He spends all his time in the radio room, and there’s usually no one else here at that time of night.’

‘He only works at night?’

‘He prefers to work at night. That’s the busiest time for us, and it gives him time to surf during the day.’

‘And he has no friends that you know about?’

‘He talks on the phone sometimes, but not often.’

‘When is he due to start work?’ asked Diane.

‘He takes over the radio at four, but he usually arrives earlier to have a shower and change his clothes.’

‘We’ll be back at four then,’ said Pile.

As the agents were about to leave the office Diane turned back to Clements with a smile. ‘Don’t even think about letting Travers know that we’ve been here to see him. I’ll tell you right now that we’ll be checking on what you’ve told us. If we think you’ve lied to us in any way, we’ll be back and we’ll probably have some friends from immigration with us as well, if you get my drift.’

Clements swallowed involuntarily.

Downstairs, the factory unit was now surprisingly quiet.

There was now only a single mechanic at work on a vehicle, with the other two left abandoned on the hydraulic lifts. Hastily discarded tools were lying where they had been dropped in the mechanics rush to depart.

Outside, there was not a single taxi to be seen.

‘It looks as though there has been a sudden rush of customers,’ smiled Diane.

‘Business has certainly picked up since we arrived,’ nodded Pile.

* * *

Returning to Wallgrove at three thirty meant facing the early stages of the evening peak, a situation that the residents of Canberra rarely had to face, and certainly not to the degree that the agents were now subjected. If they hadn’t been cocooned in their air-conditioned car they would have been in a very evil mood by the time they finally arrived at their destination.

Warned by two-way radio that the federal agents were due to return, the factory unit remained virtually deserted, and the female radio operator was now missing, her place taken by Clements himself.

Ailsa looked up as the agents entered. ‘Dan’s here,’ she informed them. ‘He’s downstairs in the recreation room taking a shower. Do you want me to tell him you’re here?’

‘Stay where you are. We’ll wait till he comes up.’

A few minutes later footsteps could be heard on the steel staircase, and Dan entered the room dressed in a pair of camouflage patterned cargo pants, a yellow t-shirt and sandals. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he looked very fit with his skin tanned to a dark brown.

Dan’s face registered a momentary shock at finding a pair of suited strangers in the reception area, and then an even greater shock as he recognised Agent Hall from his visit to ASIO headquarters.

‘I see you recognise me,’ began Diane with a smile. ‘This is my associate Agent Pile, and we’d like to have a little talk with you Mr Travers.’

‘There’s not enough room up here for you to sit down,’ said Ailsa. ‘But the recreation room will be empty.’

Dan was at a loss for words. He simply nodded and led the agents back down the staircase.

Clements shot his wife a worried look. ‘Why did you do that? Now we won’t be able to hear what this is all about.’

Ailsa held one finger to her lips and motioned for Clements to join her at the reception desk. When he was standing beside her, she flipped a switch on the intercom and they heard the sound of chairs being scraped on the hard floor below. ‘I turned on the intercom before they arrived,’ she whispered, as the agents began their interrogation.

* * *

‘Well then Mr Travers, we meet again.’

‘Yeah,’ offered a seemingly very confused Dan. ‘What do you want?’

‘We need to speak to you. We need you to clarify some matters for us. Some very weighty matters.’

‘What matters?’

‘Coincidences, Mr Travers. We’re here to discuss coincidences.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ smiled Pile. ‘Let’s start with spear pistols, shall we?’

‘What?’

‘Spear pistols. You know. Smaller than a spear gun, powered by compressed air, and used by skindivers, that sort of spear pistol.’

‘Okay. I know what they are. What have they to do with me?’

‘Did you know that you can hire spear pistols at your friend Habib Bashir’s shop in Bali?’

‘You can rent a lot of diving equipment from Habib.’

‘Yes. But someone stole one of those pistols. Habib reported the theft to police.’

‘So what? Are you saying I took it?’

‘Are you saying you didn’t?’

‘Why would I want to steal anything, especially from a friend? I’ve never been a skindiver. Why would I want it?’

‘Ah well. That’s where coincidences seem to occur. You see the theft took place the day you arrived in Bali, and we believe that the pistol was used a day later, also while you were in Bali.’

‘Used? Used how? What has this got to do with me, and why are you involved?’

‘We’ll be coming to that in a minute Mr Travers. You’re here to answer our questions, not ask them. Now then, what did you do during the daylight hours when you were in Bali?’

‘We surfed of course!’

‘All day? Every day?’

‘Yeah … well … for most of the day.’

‘Oh? And what did you do when you weren’t surfing?’

‘Not much. We hung around the hotel or the beach, drunk a lot of beer. Chilled out. You know.’

‘Was there someone with you all the time, someone who can confirm where you were during the daylight hours?’

‘I was with my mates Rick and Sam.’

‘All the time?’

‘We had separate rooms. So I wasn’t with them every second of the day and night.’

‘Did you spend much time with your friend Habib Bashir on your latest visit to Bali?’

‘We were out on his boat the first and last day of our holiday. He was booked out with other charters the rest of the time. Most days we surfed from the beach when we couldn’t get out to the reef.’

‘So you would have had the opportunity to steal the spear pistol on the first day?’

‘I didn’t steal anything!’

‘But you had the opportunity?’

‘I suppose so, but I didn’t do it.’

Pile now turned the questioning over to Diane, giving Dan no time to get orientated.

‘What do you know about a man named Arny Holland?’

‘Holland? I know about him. He’s bad news. Everyone in Bali knows about him, but the cops don’t do anything.’

‘Did you ever buy drugs from him?’

‘No. Never. I tell you he’s bad news. He’s letting those poor bastards die in prison over there. They were doing his dirty work when they were caught, but the cops can’t prove he was involved, so he goes free, the prick!’

‘So you’ve never bought drugs from him?’

‘Never. I don’t do drugs!’

‘You used to.’

Dan tried to look indignant at the accusation but realised that these people probably had access to his past. ‘Yeah, well that was when I was a kid. I got that knocked out of me by a sergeant in basic training, and I’ve never bothered since. I don’t need it, and I don’t want the hassles of having it.’

‘So you never had any dealings with Arny Holland?’

‘No. Never.’

‘What about your friends?’

‘Rick and Sam? They’re straight. I’ve never seen them use anything. We all prefer a good beer, and plenty of them. They know about Holland too, and they hate what he’s done to those kids on death row.’

‘And what could Mr Holland do about those people in jail?’

‘They’re his responsibility. He has plenty of money, and he should be spreading it around to get their sentences cut down from the death penalty at least.’

‘Well, I’m afraid it’s a little bit late for that. You see Mr Holland is dead.’

‘Dead?’

‘You didn’t know?’

‘Why should I? I haven’t been to Bali for a while.’

‘Well Mr Travers, I’ll tell you. He was killed while you were in Bali. Arny Holland was shot through the head with a spear pistol, exactly the same as the one that disappeared the day you visited Mr Bashir’s shop. A coincidence wouldn’t you say?’

‘Are you saying that I did it? You’ve got to be kidding! There were thousands of other people at Bali at the same time who could have done it.’

Hill nodded. ‘I might have agreed with you Mr Travers except for the fact that this is not the only coincidence.’ He waited for a moment, allowing time for Dan to speculate about what was to come. ‘What do you know about Din Nassir Abbas?’ he asked finally.

‘That bastard!’ spat Dan. ‘He organised the murder of the greatest surfer ever known. He was behind the explosion at Murphy’s Bar. I hope the arsehole is rotting in hell.’

‘What about Abu Bin Ahmad?’

‘The bomber! He actually boasted to the media about killing my friends!’

‘And they’re both now dead.’

‘They deserve to be.’

‘True, but now we come back to coincidences. You see each one of them were slain while you were in the immediate area.’

Dan was incredulous. ‘Are you trying to say that I had something to do with their deaths?’

‘Coincidences Mr Travers, coincidences.’

‘You’re both mad. ’

‘We might be mistaken Travers, but certainly not mad. What we need from you right now is proof that you were not responsible for any of these events.’

‘Ask Rick and Sam, they’ll tell you that I had nothing to do with this.’

‘Be assured Mr Travers, we most certainly will, but we’ll need the word of more than just your friends to convince us that you had no knowledge of these events.’

‘You can check all you like. In fact I hope you do. You’ll soon see that I’m telling the truth. Is there anything else? I’ll tell you now I wasn’t in Dallas when JFK was shot.’

Diane chose to ignore the last facetious remark, but as the agents stood up and were about to leave she remarked icily, ‘We’ll be back, Mr Travers. We’re not finished with you. Not by a long chalk.’