Milkshake (20 page)

Ed interrupted, “Which, don’t forget, has been actually been
donated by sympathetic farmers and landowners who have sold out to
Cowood who, in turn, have persuaded the farmers to produce the milk
for them. So as far as O’Sullivan and his little green friends can
see, it’s the farmers, who have always historically been against
the environmentalists, who are now backing them for the next
government.”

“So why did the card open the door?” David
threw this in, attempting to catch Ed off guard, realising it came
out sounding as important as why did the chicken cross the road? He
needed to know as much detail as possible.

Ed’s response sounded like he was going to evade the direct
question. “I’ve already explained to you, Dave, on a primary level,
the cards are used by Cowood to bring funds into the country. The
money is then used to buy land or equipment, and sometimes
influence. But there’s more to it than that. They are also the
means by which we keep track of the Cowood agents already here. It
works like this. They plant the card on you at Heathrow and then
assign a tracker to watch you from a safe distance. We, in turn,
watch the tracker, monitor their movements, and tap their
conversations. By doing this we slowly build up a database of
faces, individuals who may be working for Cowood, the advance
guard, if you like. They are people like you, immigrants,
surveyors, architects, draughtsmen, white collar men and women. We
call them soft combatants. They are the unwitting forward guard of
the invasion. They are invading with ideas, suggestions, lobbying
and cajoling, creating an atmosphere in which their ideals and
visions can become reality before anyone has the chance to stop and
question, or realises their true intentions. So take tonight, for
example. We may have been observed, but no attempt would have been
made to stop us destroying the Dairytree factory because that would
have risked exposing them. They will just have noted our presence
and reported back. Cowood management will have had time to compose
what would have looked like a hastily prepared press release when
TVNZ called them for a reaction.”

“So we were being watched the whole time?”

“More than likely. Cowood has been tailing you from that
airport roof in London. We managed to keep a tight enough rein on
you to stop them getting too near, but allowed them close enough
that we can observe them. It’s been a bit cat and mouse. Neither
side dare do anything too dramatic in case it attracts the police
or, worse still, the media. That’s the last thing either side wants
at this stage. Hone and his bloody logging truck came a bit too
close, though.”

“But what about the foot and mouth thing on Waiheke. Didn’t
you say the Government staged that?”

“That was devised as a credible cover story for the press,
manipulated all the way from producing the threat letter,
instigating the emergency then, in a few days time, the whole thing
will conveniently be exposed as a probable hoax. Meanwhile the
Ministry get to test the cows legitimately, under the protection of
the Bio Security Act, and Cowood has to stand by and watch. Even if
they suspected the true nature of the emergency, they dare not kick
up, for fear of having to admit to the presence of the gamma casein
in the Waiheke herds. By now the Government is likely to have
compelling evidence of Gamma Casein production taking place here in
New Zealand.”

David was not sure he could understand the logic. “So how do
you go from pussy-footing around each other, spying on each other,
and the Government staging a fake emergency, to blowing up a
factory and assassinating the leader of a political party? That’s a
hell of a leap, Ed. One word springs to mind, starting with
'terror' and ending in 'ists'.”

Ed shook his head. If he had trouble persuading one man in one
room, how could he expect the rest of the country to believe him?
“Don’t get me wrong. We’ve thought long and hard about all this. We
can skirt round the issues, bury our heads in the sand for the next
couple of years, but in the meantime EPANZ is going to grow in
popularity and power, and our voice will become an insignificant
minority, if it survives at all. In ten to fifteen years, these two
islands will just be a vast production and refining facility.
People won’t actually live here, just come and do their four week
shift or whatever and fly back home to Australia or California.” Ed
managed a faint smile. “By the way, assassination is a very
provocative word. We’re not about to assassinate anyone. Let’s just
say, for now, that Mr O’Sullivan will die a perfectly natural
death. Oh, and to answer your question, the card opened the door at
the factory by me slipping it between the latch and the door. I
already knew the PIN number for the lock, the latch was just a bit
stiff and I left my wallet in the truck. So, sorry, no mystery
there, I’m afraid. In fact, here, you’d better have it
back.”

“So what happens tomorrow, then?”

“The EPANZ national conference has just started in one of the
big hotels. These places always take on extra staff for big events,
so me and one of the guys should be able to get temporary work
looking after the coffee drops.”

“The what?”

“Coffee drops - you know, when you go to some course or big
meeting and they take a break and out comes the coffee and
biscuits? Well hopefully it’ll be me or one of the guys serving it
so we can make sure O’Sullivan gets his coffee nice and
milky.”

“So you’re planning to kill him by spiking his
coffee?”

“Exactly. He’s a big coffee drinker; at
least five a day. We just have to make sure that over the next week
he drinks as many of ours as possible. Each time we serve him his
favourite cuppa, he’ll be consuming an ever-increasing dose of
gamma casein. He won’t taste it - after all, it’s only a milk
by-product – but, depending on his tolerance, it’ll rapidly induce
the onset of heart disease–like symptoms. Of course, we can’t be
sure as it’s never been properly tested, but I reckon if we can get
about three teaspoons of the stuff into him over the next few days,
then he should succumb sometime in the following
ten-days-to-a-month to a perfectly natural myocardial
infarction.”

Ed’s alarmingly smug expression met David’s less than
comprehending one.

“Sorry Dave, that was the vet talking for a moment there - a
heart attack.”

“So you’re gonna give the poor guy a milk-induced heart
attack?”

‘Exactly. Humane, natural and completely
untraceable, gamma casein only exists in the lab. It won’t show up
on any pathologist's toxicology report.”

The three smokers burst back through the door, laughing and
joking, oblivious to the serious conversation they had interrupted.
Ed continued, ignoring their rowdy entrance. “Look, Pat O’Sullivan
is the key to all of this. He came here from Ireland in the early
eighties to study chemical engineering, a trip paid for by his
father who owned a small agrochemical business in Southern Ireland.
The old man had done some early research into milk-based fuel,
basic garden shed science really. But he was canny enough to sell
his discovery to a New Zealand company for a few thousand dollars
and some shares in the business which would give him a financial
interest in any commercial applications his original research might
be put to. When he died, Pat inherited the shares and, seeing he
was already in New Zealand, after finishing his degree he joined
the business, hoping to develop his father’s original process into
the environmentally friendly alternative to petrol old man
O’Sullivan always thought it would one day become. He started
courting the fledging Green movement. That was in the late
eighties. He quickly rose through their ranks and became leader
within three years. Meanwhile the company the old man had sold his
idea to had already been acquired by Cowood some years earlier.
They quickly realised the potential benefits of having young
Patrick already studying here, ready to inherit his shares in the
business once he finished his education. They also knew they could
develop and perfect the process quietly down here at the arse end
of the world, without anyone else paying too much interest. They
got a huge bonus when they realised Patrick was getting heavily
involved politically in trying to get the Green movement up and
running. So, once he joined the business, which by this time was
called Dairytree, he was offered a place on the board - as far as
he was concerned, a nod to his father’s original research and also
to his own environmental credentials. So now, a few years later, we
have the Managing Director of Dairytree, by now well aware of
Cowood’s true intentions, also the leader of what has now become a
fully fledged political party which advocates the introduction of
full-scale ethanol production and who are on track to win the next
election.”

“But that can’t be ethical, surely? How can O’Sullivan become
the next Prime Minister when he has such a substantial interest in
an industry that’s going to completely change the economic and
environmental landscape?”

“Because he is only the party leader, not an elected Member
of Parliament, so he isn’t bound by the same rules of disclosure or
conflict of interest matters. Because of the way they have
structured their party, only they will decide which of their MPs
will actually be Prime Minister. Meanwhile, O’Sullivan is able to
present himself as a part political leader and environmental
activist and part ethical businessman, whilst all the while being a
heart beat away from actually running the country.”

David was surprised at the detailed level of knowledge and
network of like-minded sympathisers Ed had seemingly acquired
despite the apparent isolation of his years working as a vet on
Waiheke Island. “Ed, the thing I don’t understand is how you came
to get so involved in all this stuff. How do you know so much and
why has it got to you to the point where you’re prepared to kill
for it?”

All the time he had been speaking, Ed had been moving
animatedly around the small room, clearly enthused by his subject.
Now he stopped pacing, moved back towards the kitchen table and sat
opposite David once more.

The Maori trio, noting his change of mood, stopped talking and
turned to listen as he sat, his face serious, his hands clasped in
front of him. “The first thing that attracted Patrick O’Sullivan to
the environmental movement was Anika Tamaki. She was the Chair of
their university campus Green movement. They quickly fell in love,
moved in together and later got married. Only when Pat’s dad died
did she find out about his wealthy family back in Ireland and the
Dairytree connection. Once Pat got his degree, and consequent
inheritance, things started to change. Of course Anika subsequently
found out it was because Cowood was on his back, but as far as she
was concerned at the time, he was becoming distant, obsessed with
his work and, from her point of view, he was just using her,
abusing her principles, to gain a foothold into the fledgling
Ecology Party for his own business ends. They argued, drifted
apart, he ended up having an affair and they finally divorced. I
met her about a year later. We got together and, over a fairly
short period, the whole story, up to that point at least, came out.
That was a few years ago now, and since that time we have both
taken a keen interest in Patrick O’Sullivan’s business and
political dealings, and the result is where we sit
tonight.”

“So she knows what’s going on here?”

“Absolutely, in fact she knows him probably better than
anyone. After all, she was married to the guy for five years. She
understands what he is capable of, she understands he has to be
stopped and she accepts how.”

David looked over to where Hone, Tom and Billy stood listening
intently, almost devoutly, to Ed. They were nodding in agreement.
Ed finished talking and stood signalling it was time to sleep. He
had said more than enough for today.

They each made their way to one of the five rough camp beds.
David lay down, fully clothed, pulling the cold, damp blankets over
his head to keep out the chill night air that has already
penetrated the thin wooden walls.

The light went out, plunging the room into a thick, heavy
darkness. The wind outside blew gently, scraping overhanging
branches against the tin roof. David found himself relaxing,
content in the knowledge that Katherine was safer being looked
after by Anika than being with him now.

* * *

The bed was moving violently.

David sat up, his shoulders aching from the sag of yet another
unfamiliar bed. It was Hone shaking the base. “Wake up, man. We’re
leaving in fifteen minutes.” David peered through crusty eyes at
his watch. It was nine-thirty. He had slept soundly for ten hours.
It felt more like three.

“There’s a shower out back, clean towels in the cupboard by
the door. Don’t be long; we’ll eat on the way.”

He found the small dirty shower cubicle that had gone
unnoticed the night before and worked out the intricacies of
getting the right temperature whilst removing the clothes he had
slept in. He was determined to spend as long under the steaming hot
water as possible, letting it wake and fully refresh him. Instead
it suddenly ran icy cold. David yelled out. As if in answer, a
voice somewhere in the house yelled back, “Sorry, Bro’, had to kill
the electric. The generator is just about running on empty and Hone
didn’t bring some more diesel with him.”