Disappear (33 page)

Teddy grimaced. ‘I suppose you want me to run a check all the way back to the year dot?’

‘Let’s go back twenty years. For starters.’

‘That all? Lucky for you I owe you one, eh?’

‘Lucky.’ Lachlan relaxed and allowed himself a laugh.

The jogger was up early that morning and tuned in to the television. The first newsbreak concerning the bombing went to air at 5.53 a.m. The jogger’s face broke into a self-satisfied grin as he watched the aerial footage of the pandemonium across the fire-ravaged site.

Later, he phoned Fred Hargreaves. ‘You’ve done well,’ he said. ‘So well you’ve given me an idea. I need one of those explosive devices for a project of my own.’

‘No problem,’ came the reply. ‘You deliver the cash, we deliver the product.’

The jogger made the necessary arrangements and then hung up. His aborted attempt on Jennifer Parkes’ life had left him fearful that his plans were falling apart. But he felt much better this morning after watching the scenes of carnage on his TV screen. A new plot was hatching in his mind, one that made far more sense and solved all his remaining problems with one decisive blow.

Earlier, on his way to Police HQ in Parramatta and his visit with Teddy Vanda, Lachlan had listened to the radio news about the Southern Star bombing. Why had this happened now, at the very same time his investigation showed a link between the missing persons and the garrotte killings to a company owned by the Kaplan Corporation? Co-incidence?

After seeing Teddy, Lachlan went to the special unit in the Sydney CBD. ‘I was expecting an update call from you,’ he said tersely to Max Bryant, referring to Bryant contacting the Burbank police in the U.S.

‘Still no luck, Neil. I left a message. No return call as yet so I’ve emailed a request for any info Burbank can give us- or find out quickly- on Lifelines Inc. I’m following that up with repeated calls.’

Ron Aroney had been on the phone. Concluding his call, he approached Lachlan and Bryant. ‘Those council plans arrived first thing this morning. I put them on your desk,’ he said to Lachlan. ‘According to the original design the building had a large basement, with a lift and stairwell access.’

‘No sign of that when I was there,’ Lachlan replied, ‘but that’s not to say they hadn’t been sealed off.’

‘The obvious question then,’ said Bryant, ‘is what the hell is down there that had to be sealed?’

‘And,’ Aroney added, ‘who sealed it?’

The deputy commisioner took the anonymous call at 9.45 AM. ‘Someone on the phone, won’t give his name,’ his P.A said, ‘says he has vital information on the Southern Star bombing.’

It was unusual for Ed Razell to take such a call. Usually he directed something like this to one of his senior detectives. But the nature of this call changed that. He’d already had a call earlier from the Federal Minister for Industrial Affairs, requesting a full enquiry into the allegations of the asbestos cover-up. Although the incident had occurred in Queensland, the HQ of the Kaplan Corporation was in New South Wales and the minister wanted the authorities in both states involved. ‘I’ll take it,’ Razell said.

‘Who is this?’ he said gruffly.

‘The phone calls to the press from these AVO crazies are fake.’

Razell had heard similar voices on the phone before, handkerchief over the mouth to disguise the voice. The sign of an amateur.

‘There’s no such organisation.’

Razell had expected as much. He already had several men looking for information on any such group. ‘You need to identify yourself,’ Razell demanded. A useless question but one that had to be asked.

‘Consider me a friend. The bombing was organised by someone who had a lot to gain by casting attention on Kaplan today. Have you seen that rag People Power this morning, Razell?’

‘No.’

‘Then go get a copy. Couldn’t have been better timing for the journalist who wrote the exposé on Kaplan.’

There was a click and the line went dead.

It made sense.

Razell had already considered the possibility that AVO might be a smokescreen for someone bombing the mine for a totally different purpose. He pulled out the report he’d received that morning from Lachlan.

Rory McConnell, freelance journo for indie paper People Power, had been added to the list of suspects in the missing persons murders. Razell pondered the fact that these two names kept cropping up. McConnell attacking Kaplan in print, while Kaplan fed information on McConnell’s dubious past to the police. What was it with those two?

Razell marched out of his office. ‘I’m paying Detective Senior Sergeant Lachlan a visit,’ he informed his P.A.

‘I got the shock of my life when I ran the data on aborted violent attacks, with garrotting as the main selection criteria. I expected maybe two or three unrelated attempts over the twenty year period.’

‘And?’ Lachlan was impatient.

Teddy Vanda, recognising the anxiety of the moment, shifted his internal gears effortlessly from light-hearted into deadly serious. ‘The computer came up with twenty-six attempted garrotte killings, all in the north western suburbs of Sydney, at staggered intervals in the mid- 90’s. Some were a few weeks apart. Towards the end of the cycle they were up to six months apart.’

‘Twenty-six attempts,’ Lachlan repeated, stunned.

‘Twenty-six over a period of a couple of years. Then nothing since. And that’s not the interesting part. In each and every attack, the intended victim reported being saved by the intervention of two men.’

‘Who?’

‘Unknown. In each reported attack, the victim told an identical story. They had no idea who their attacker was, and no idea who their saviours were.’

‘Were they always the same two men?’

‘Apparently not. Descriptions of the two men varied, Neil. But they were always large, powerful looking characters.’ He allowed himself a light moment. ‘Like me.’

‘The link between these attacks was never noticed,’ Lachlan assumed.

‘The reports were made to different stations, depending on the exact locale of the attack. Local detective Constable Ron Nicholls recognised the pattern and instigated an investigation. It went nowhere and was relegated to the back burner after the attacks stopped.’

‘So, the reason this guy stopped killing was because someone else was stopping
him
.’

‘In order to be on the spot like that, someone had to undertake twenty-four hour surveillance of the killer, or of his intended victims,’ Teddy suggested. ‘You’d find those skills in security specialists or private detectives. I programmed the computer to compile a list of companies involved in that kind of work.’

‘I knew there was a reason I kept hanging around you,’ said Lachlan.

Teddy raised his right eyebrow appreciatively. This was the Neil Lachlan with whom he’d always had camaraderie. ‘And I ran a cross check of those company names against Winterstone for a possible connection. Nothing. Zero-ville.’ Teddy paused, held up his finger to highlight his next comment. ‘Then I did something I rarely do.’

Lachlan was intrigued but kept his impatience in check. ‘The suspense is killing me.’

‘I left the computer alone, picked up the phone, and did some old fashioned police work called talking to people. You’ve piqued my curiosity. Must have, for me to do stuff like this off my own bat. I may have come up with something.’

‘On Winterstone?’

‘Not exactly. On the parent company. The Kaplan Corporation hired a private investigator, a Swede named Hans Falkstog, back in the 70’s, to watch over Kaplan’s son during a kidnap scare.’

‘You got this from Falkstog?’

‘Are you kidding me. It’s nigh on impossible to get information from these security specialists. Too secretive. I phoned the accounts division at Kaplan Corp. and asked for a list of security firms and private investigators that had ever been on a retainer. I said I was from Corporate Affairs. The accounts woman was very obliging. Falkstog Security Systems had been used by the corporation since the incident in the 70’s. They supplied a variety of services, patrolling offices and factories that Kaplan owned, advising on the installation of electronic security systems, that sort of thing.’

‘Falkstog? I’ve heard of him.’ Lachlan searched his memory. ‘Ex-military. The Federal Police called him in to advise on a couple of difficult cases a few years back.’

‘He’s not so popular with the feds these days,’ Teddy said. ‘The local vice boys investigated Falkstog a couple of years ago. He’s suspected of illegal surveillance practices, of running drugs, and of operating a prostitution racket.’

‘They couldn’t pin anything on him?’

‘Right. Smooth operator, covers his ass brilliantly.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought prostitution his style.’

‘I remember talking with one of the Vice Squad boys about that. Falkstog has a quirky, vicious side to him. That’s the reason they think he got into brothels. Vice believe he acted as a client. Whenever a new girl joined she’d be sent to Falkstog for a session.’

‘Trying out the goods himself?’

‘That’s what the vice guys thought,’ Teddy confirmed. ‘But surveillance tactics are Falkstog’s specialty. And that fits in perfectly with the surveillance that appears to have been placed on this garrotte killer, or his victims.’

‘But most likely surveillance on the killer.’

‘Yeah. I was about to come over and see you with this, Neil, because I thought you might be able to make something of it. So your visit’s saved me the trouble. You’re considerate that way.’ He flashed a grin, but was equally as quick at getting back to business. ‘Maybe there’s a connection in all this. Or maybe I’m dreaming. Stuffed if I know.’

‘No dream.’ Lachlan ran his fingers through his hair. Lack of sleep was catching up and the strain was showing in the lines around his eyes. ‘Someone with inside info on the Kaplan Corporation knows who the killer is. He hired Falkstog’s firm to follow the killer and intervene whenever an attack occurred. That’s the kind of scenario that leaps immediately to mind. It would cost an arm and a leg, but it’s something a corporation like Kaplans could afford.’

‘But there’s nothing irregular in the accounts. They fitted in with payment for the regular security patrols and consultations.’

‘It’s probable,’ said Lachlan, ‘that funds were diverted to a personal account and paid that way. Harold Masterton has shaped up as the main suspect in this. He set up Winterstone in the first place and ordered the equipment.’

‘What equipment?’

‘We don’t know yet, but never mind about that.’ There would be time enough later to fill Teddy in on all the details. ‘In the meantime, mate, could you run an investigation into the personal cheque accounts of Harold Masterton, Henry and Roger Kaplan and other members of the board, for starters. We’re looking for any amounts made out to Falkstog Security Systems.’

‘I’ll need warrants to access the records.’

‘You’ll have them in an hour.’

‘You realise that if someone has been paying Falkstog they could have been using cash.’

‘Could have. But large amounts of cash, as often as they’d need paying, could be messy. Personal cheques would be easier and wouldn’t be subject to company audits.’

‘Your optimism is showing.’ It was the cheeky Teddy again.

‘Not as much as I’d like it to be.’

When Teddy Vanda called Lachlan- four hours later- he had the information Lachlan wanted. Through his personal cheque account at National Combined, Henry Kaplan had raised a cheque to Falkstog Security Systems for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars per month, for as far back as non-archived records were held. The last cheque had been issued three months earlier, just prior to the initial bankruptcy proceedings.

Masterton wandered the halls, listening to flashes of radio news from different offices. The entire building was abuzz with the events of the morning. Becker’s words still echoed in Masterton’s mind. He ambled into Roger’s office. The boss’s son had just hung up the phone.

‘What on earth is happening to us?’ Masterton croaked. ‘First the police connect Winterstone to those murders. Now that God-awful bombing. And Becker’s pulled out of the deal.’

Roger threw his hands up in dismay. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never even heard of this AVO mob before. Where the hell did they spring from? And as for that bastard McConnell and his lefty rag article…’

‘I spoke to the Herald editor a few moments ago,’ Masterton said. ‘Apparently a copy’s been faxed to them and to every major newspaper in Australia.’

‘The bastard,’ Roger repeated. ‘Every paper in the country will be after him for more info. If he gets onto this link with Winterstone and feeds that to them…You haven’t been talking to him, Harold, have you?’

The blood rose in Masterton’s cheeks. ‘I don’t know the first thing about McConnell or that blasted warehouse.’ He was interrupted by Henry Kaplan, who burst into the office unexpectedly. ‘Harold. Leave us please.’

‘Henry…?’

‘Leave us!’

Masterton glowered from Kaplan to Roger and then, swallowing his anger and his pride, stormed out.

‘Only someone with inside knowledge could have organised the bombing at Southern Star,’ Kaplan told his son. Fury had distorted his features, changing his face from the one that beamed from the covers of so many business magazines, twisting it into something that revealed the darker, hidden side to his nature.

‘You don’t think it was Harold?’ Roger asked.

‘Someone with something to gain by the bankruptcy going ahead.’

‘What would Harold have to gain?’

‘Nothing. His career, like mine, is over. But yours isn’t, is it?’

Roger’s brow furrowed with lines of confusion. ‘Dad…?’

‘You’re happy to live on the money you have stashed away, aren’t you? The hidden accounts. The easy life. You don’t give a stuff about the company, you never have. What is it, Roger? It doesn’t satisfy you like your other interests?’

‘What the hell is this all about?’

‘Don’t play dumb. Not now. You don’t need to worry, do you, now that the corporation and its money are gone? Christ, you’re actually pleased.’