Fatal Impact (31 page)

55

I
n between answering the phones, Rhonda kindly showed her to a computer.

‘You can’t access any databases. Just the internet. Don’t need to tell you the sites you click on can be tracked. Just in case,’ the female officer reminded. ‘It’s a standard spiel. Anyone accessing a computer gets it.’

‘I just need to log in, check emails and send my report, then I’ll log straight out. You’ll never know I’ve been here.’ She hoped no one would find out what she was doing.

The USB could provide evidence as to who killed Patsy Gallop. This was, in an odd way, an ideal time, while the station was minimally staffed and in turmoil following another shooting.

Simon Hammond wore a distracted frown and gazed towards the front windows. He had been asked to write his statement before being formally interviewed for this shooting. He hadn’t even had a chance to process the event or his involvement.

‘Hey, Hammo, at least you didn’t trash another car.’ Rhonda tried to lighten the mood, unsuccessfully.

Jocelyn was still in the bathroom scrubbing her hands.

Anya could already see the headlines. Country cop kills again; radio shock jocks decrying police brutality. Violent criminals were more likely to be glamourised, even have TV series made about them. Simon’s life and family would be picked over by reporters and there would be little empathy for how his life was forever changed.

Anya knew he didn’t wear a wedding ring.

‘Is there anyone I can call and let know you’re safe?’ She was concerned.

‘No one here.’

‘Anywhere else?’

‘Not anymore. My girlfriend didn’t want to leave her job in Melbourne. I didn’t want to leave Dad. By the time he died, she’d found someone else.’

The phone rang again and Rhonda dutifully repeated, ‘No comment,’ and referred the caller to the department’s media spokesperson.

Simon swivelled back to the desk and began two-fingered typing.

Anya plugged in the USB and pulled up the contents. The device contained hundreds of files. None was named; instead, each had been numbered. She decided to go methodically, starting at the first document.

Up came a copy of an email, sent from the CEO of PT, Graham Fowler, to Christian Moss. It praised the minister for his foresight and vision of the future. There was nothing suspicious or incriminating in it.

She tried the next file. It was an email dated months later, this time from Moss to the CEO.

I have every confidence that the MIV will be a phenomenal success and we will achieve our mutually advantageous goal. I guarantee this will be a state-of-the-art facility. Any further questions or concerns, do not hesitate to contact me, or my chief of staff, Ryan Chapman.

Their mobile numbers were included. Anya tried to remember where she’d seen the letter, MIV, before. Then it became clear. It had been circled over and over again on the scrapbook page under mother’s bed.

She read through a number of banal exchanges, dates of meetings. It seemed the CEO was on the board of a committee known as CTGM, which stood for Controlled Trials GM.

She decided to search the internet to see who else was on it, but found only a number of names she didn’t recognise. She kept the site open and returned to the documents.

Jocelyn had returned and sat down next to Anya. ‘I feel like Lady Macbeth. The blood stains and this pigment are fading, but it’s as if they don’t wash off.’

Anya wanted desperately to assuage her mother’s guilt. ‘You didn’t do that to Craig. Or to Len.’

‘I only wish we knew why Craig did what he did. To Len and himself. His wife and kids didn’t deserve this either.’

Anya had to ask. ‘Do you know what MIV stands for?’

Her mother grabbed her wrist. ‘It’s what Len was trying to find out.’

Anya’s thoughts returned to Craig’s connection to Mincer Leske. He had sold Leske the property at Cressy. Mincer was dead. He wasn’t a threat to Craig, if he ever had been. Whatever it was, Craig was obviously in way over his head. He’d said
he was a ‘dead man’ once he found out Jocelyn had inherited Len’s estate. She wondered if he owed a lot of money to someone dangerous. He was also closely associated with Christian Moss and the CEO of PT. He had been included at the lunch with Moss that day at the restaurant, in what was supposed to be a private crisis meeting. Except that it had happened to be organised prior to any crisis taking place.

Anya scanned more uninspiring emails among committee members. Then one stood out. It was dated August two years ago. Jerry Dyke had been appointed to the committee. She clicked back to the web and searched for the dates of Reuben Millard’s trial. The lawyer had been appointed to the same government committee responsible for approving GM trials during the murder trial.

Anya sat back. Madison Zane had mentioned that trials only had to run for a period of three months. As Patsy Gallop and Reuben Millard’s experiment had shown, none died within ninety days. Many became ill after that. Dyke had to have known the full study results when he defended Millard at trial.

Phones rang in the background. Hammond answered one, Rhonda picked up the other.

‘Senior sergeant’s on his way back,’ she said, to everyone in the office. Simon’s typing accelerated.

‘What is it?’ Jocelyn prodded.

Anya showed her the screen. She read silently and her mouth opened when she read Jerry Dyke’s name.

Time was running out. Anya searched the files for ‘cancer’. Nothing.

She tried Reuben Millard. Nothing.

Patsy Gallop. Nothing.

Finally, she typed Blainey. A file popped up.

Had correspondence from an Alison Blainey from POWER. The organisation plans to block MIV plans. Could be a problem.

The message was from Graham Fowler. Moss and his chief of staff were recipients.

Moss responded,

Familiar with POWER. Making name re Antarctica. Will organise a meeting. See what’s negotiable. Our side will not compromise. MIV must be impenetrable – secure, private, disaster-proof.

Jocelyn read it as well. ‘Len was a fox. He contacted Alison Blainey to find out more about this facility. He didn’t anticipate the E. coli infection but met her anyway. She has no idea he had this, obviously.’

Everyone in the office was preoccupied with phones.

‘Maybe they’re building a defence facility or a nuclear power station,’ Anya suggested. ‘National defence and energy are way out of Moss’s jurisdiction.’

The thought occurred to Anya that PT could have been brokering some sort of secret deal to benefit the Chinese government. Whatever it was, security was deemed paramount.

McGinley loped through the back door, followed closely by Oliver.

Anya escaped the screen and hid the USB in her jeans pocket.

‘How did the wife take it?’ Rhonda asked solemnly.

McGinley’s face reddened. ‘Four-year-old was asking when Daddy was coming home. The two-year-old was at a neighbour’s. The wife has to ID the body later. If that’s not lousy enough, she had to find out her husband shot himself in the street and was shot by police in the process. After breaking that news, we barge in and demand to search the joint for evidence he murdered his brother. How do you think she took it?’

‘She seemed decent.’ Oliver slouched into a chair. ‘Your heart breaks for those kids. Looks like she was in the process of leaving him, although she denied it. Had a lot of the toys packed in boxes. His side of the wardrobe was full, hers was almost empty.’

Jocelyn cleared her throat. ‘Anything to confirm he shot Len?’

McGinley conceded, ‘He didn’t smell of petrol that night like Len did. He’d already changed and washed before he came back to the scene. We found a blood-stained shirt buried in the shed. It was with a pair of old boots that look like they’ve got blood splatter on them.’ McGinley leant forward, arms straight, hands on the desk nearest him. He paused, then became upright again.

‘Also found a sale agreement. If signed, it would have had Len sell the property to PT. It had a small bit torn off the top. Think they’ll find it matches the scrap of paper found in Len’s hand.’ McGinley stepped forward. ‘Believe I owe you an apology, Dr Crichton.’

Anya could only imagine how difficult this was for the senior officer, in front of his subordinates. She chose not to remind him about the sanctity of a crime scene in front of them. ‘The only positive is that the truth has come out. Inevitably, it does.’

‘Not all of it.’ Jocelyn seemed agitated again. ‘Anya, we need to go. NOW.’

56

J
ocelyn asked to be alone for a while to rest. Rhonda drove her home. Oliver asked if Anya would join him at a cafe in town. The team from Hobart would begin going over the individual statements and re-interview in the morning. She decided to tell him about the existence of the USB, just not where it came from. To protect her mother, she implied, by omission, that it was in the parcel under the chicken coop.

Inside the cafe, Oliver went to order. Anya scanned for a corner table, where she could sit with her back to the patrons, in case anyone recognised her. She still had the USB for safe keeping.

‘I thought country life was supposed to be peaceful.’ Oliver returned with coffees. ‘Changed my mind about wanting to move here.’ He sat down. ‘While we were in Hobart, McGinley took Alison Blainey’s formal statement about that night in Len Dengate’s house. He also showed her a series of photos. She identified the woman who stopped her on the road as Mincer’s girlfriend. His kid’s name is Brutus, by the way. Seriously.’

Anya focused. ‘Mincer did assault Alison Blainey after we met her at Len Dengate’s place?’

‘Looks like it. After what the medical student told us, I checked into Blainey’s background,’ he said. ‘Degree in environmental law at the University of California. Worked for organisations like POWER ever since. She specialises in Arctic and Antarctic protection and opposing genetic modification, or genetically modified organisms, depending on what you read.’

A waitress delivered a hamburger and chips on a plate for the male detective. While he admired it, Anya helped herself to a chip.

‘There’s nothing in her background suggesting corruption. Earns a good living. POWER and companies wanting to go green fly her around the world business class. Unlike members of the police force who always go cattle class.’

‘Len Dengate said she was attending a conference on Antarctica,’ Anya reasoned. ‘If Craig Dengate paid Mincer to light the fire, maybe he paid him to assault Blainey as well.’ Although she couldn’t work out a reason why he would do that.

‘All right. Why go after Jocelyn then?’ he asked.

‘Because Mum inherited his brother’s property.’ Anya thought logically. ‘Craig was trying to force Len to sign a sale agreement to PT before he killed him. He was so desperate for Len to sell that he threatened him with a gun. Even though,’ she emphasised, ‘he wouldn’t get anything for it, apart from a real estate commission. If he thought he was the beneficiary, he may have had to kill Len to finish the deal?’ It suddenly made sense. Craig had to have promised the property to PT and been unable to deliver once he discovered Len had changed his will. Even Jocelyn’s death wouldn’t help him. The land would then go to Anya. ‘Craig implied his life depended on delivering Len’s property to PT. It explains why he went after you two in a rage.’ Oliver chewed on a couple of chips. ‘All we have to do is find out what it is about Len Dengate’s place that’s worth killing and dying for.’

‘I think I know,’ Anya said. ‘May I borrow your phone?’

He handed it across. She pulled up a map of the local area and PT land. ‘See the South Esk? It flows right through .
. .’

‘What are all the orange shadings?’

‘The land the Chinese own via PT.’ Anya could barely believe how many properties on either side of the river had been amalgamated. Apart from a small section that broke the pattern. ‘The green area is Len’s land. His brother sold his share and the Chinese have been making offers on Len’s section. They need it to monopolise the river for irrigation. They dam it, stop it flowing and strangle the downstream properties as well. They own most of the north of the state that way and monopolise the farming.’ Attached to a corridor to the east was her mother’s property. ‘Or they need the pure water supply for something else as well.’

‘Have they ever made your mother an offer?’

‘Not that I know of. Guess there was no point unless Len accepted. He was the domino that wouldn’t fall.’

It didn’t have to be said. Now Jocelyn owning her and Len’s both properties meant she was in their way.

Oliver dipped some chips into mayonnaise. ‘It’s worth finding out who else bought properties in and around Cressy a year ago, and what they paid for them. Maybe Mincer knew something we don’t about the area’s potential.’ He took a mouthful of burger.

‘How are you getting to spend time on this?’ Anya had wondered. The detective was supposed to be investigating Leske’s shooting by Hammond.

‘This place is a smorgasbord for someone like me. Botched crime scenes, stuffed-up police investigations à la Patsy Gallop, a policeman shooting two people in a matter of days. I can take my pick. My bosses won’t expect to see me for months.’

Anya smiled.

‘I can get a team of forensic accountants to go through Craig Dengate’s financials. There are sites that post the properties that have sold in the area in the last few years and the prices paid, and whether they were overvalued compared to others in the area. They’ll let us know if there are likely to be hidden accounts.’

Anya slowly sipped her coffee.

Oliver wiped his hands on a napkin. ‘The USB you mentioned. I’ll need that as evidence.’

‘Only if you let me see what else is on it.’

‘Anya, this is serious. You could have been shot today. So could your mother. From what McGinley and you say, Craig Dengate didn’t kill himself out of depression or because his wife was leaving him. He really believed he was a dead man once he found out he hadn’t inherited Len’s property. He failed to deliver and knew the cost. Whoever’s behind this, they’re playing for keeps and covering their tracks. The less you know, the safer you are. Please hand it over.’

‘The more I know, the safer Mum is. Alison Blainey met with Christian Moss after Graham Fowler, the CEO of PT, emailed him. The emails mentioned words like “impenetrable” and “state-of-the-art” in reference to MIV.’ Whatever MIV stands for, Alison is involved.