Smoking Gun (Adam Cartwright Trilogy Book 1) (23 page)

Two days later, at about nine o’clock in the morning, I received a call from Detective Inspector John Hargreaves of the Townsville CIB.

I had found him rude and arrogant when I had first met him at the Townsville airport on my arrival from Mount Godwin on the day of the robbery. His modus operandi was to bully and hassle anyone that he wanted to question in relation to a crime that he was trying to solve. His immediate focus on me when I had asked a question about the crime was totally unjustified, time-wasting and irritating.

I had done my best to co-operate with him at the time but he certainly did not warm to me. The feeling was mutual, I regarded him as an intellectual lightweight and had doubted that he could ever solve a case if he couldn’t beat a confession out of someone. I didn’t hold out much hope of him solving the Mount Godwin Mine robbery and couldn’t help wondering about the abilities of the other police officers if he held such a senior rank.

I was engaged in an important discussion with a disgruntled sub-contractor, and one of my engineers, in my office when the phone rang. For an incoming call to be put through at that time it meant that the caller must have claimed that it was an urgent matter.

The intervening months had not mellowed him. He did not give his name but his rough tone of voice immediately identified him to me. It was Detective Inspector John Hargreaves of the Townsville CIB. “Am I talking to Adam Cartwright?” He demanded as I answered the telephone call that had been relayed from the receptionist.

Since I had just answered the call by saying, “Adam Cartwright speaking”, I thought that his question was rather superfluous. His tone of voice annoyed me so I responded, “I am very busy at the moment. Unless this is an emergency I am going to have to ask you to call back later. So, is this an emergency?”

He did not reply so I said, “Okay since it is not an urgent matter would you mind calling back after an hour or so, if you still want to talk to me.”

Again he did not respond so I terminated the call.

***

An hour later he rang back.

Without spending any time on the niceties he demanded angrily. “Who the hell do you think that you are? You can’t just hang up on me like that.”

I was momentarily inclined to hang up on him for real this time but relented and said, “Who am I? Well, I’m someone who doesn’t have to accept every phone call received by me. For the record, I did not hang up. I terminated the call after giving you a warning that I was not able to take your call at that time. I had other people in my office and we were dealing with an urgent matter. Your call was not an emergency so it had a lower priority. Anyway we are talking now. So, what can I do for you?”

His response was a string of epithets. When he paused for breath I said, “This is the one and only warning that I will give you. If you use foul or obscene language again, I will immediately hang up without warning.”

He did not respond so I said, “Look, you may have time to waste like this but I don’t. So, if you won’t say something then I will terminate this call.”

After a brief pause he finally spoke. “Okay wise guy, if you want me to investigate your fanciful claims of two attempts on your life then you had better co-operate or else.”

I could think of no greater waste of time than having him in charge of any investigation, much less the attacks on me, and I was tempted to tell him so. But I decided to resist the temptation and responded in a moderate tone of voice. “Actually I have not requested that the police investigate the incidents that you are apparently referring to. In any case, you have already decided that the incidents are quote fanciful claims unquote. So how much investigating would you really do?”

There was another prolonged pause. He was either shocked into silence or was just a very slow thinker. Finally he responded, “We should meet.”

“Why should we? Why don’t we talk on the telephone now? What do you want to know?”

After another hesitation he said, “These sort of conversations need to be face-to-face.”

“I don’t see why. Just ask me what you want to know and I’ll answer it to the best of my ability.”

“Okay. The police were passed your reports of the alleged incidents by the Crime and Corruption Commission. But we weren’t told why you had been in contact with them in the first place. It might have something to do with the alleged attacks on you. We need to know, otherwise I won’t be able to carry out a proper investigation.”

“So, let me be clear, you are asking me to tell you what I talked to the Commission about?”

When he didn’t reply I said, “Well, if the Commission wanted you to know then they would have told you. But I will tell them that you had been asking.”

This time he responded quickly. “No, there is no need for that. I guess that they have made a need-to-know decision and they have decided that I don’t need to know.”

I smiled. He sounded almost conciliatory. So I thought that I’d reciprocate. “Tell me what you have got from the Commission. Perhaps they haven’t sent you my complete reports on the incidents.”

“Later. But first why didn’t you report the alleged incidents to the police in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t think that I’d be believed. I don’t have any proof and I figured that I’d only be wasting my time and the resources of the police.”

“That’s not your call. If you are genuine then you would want to tell the police.”

“To what point. You have already judged my claims to be fanciful. In any case, I reported the incidents to the Commission and they saw fit to pass them on to the police. I didn’t ask for the police to be involved. Why don’t you just ask me a few questions and you can file a report discounting my allegations.”

“I can’t do that without meeting with you. I want you to come down to Townsville and be interrogated.”

I instantly bristled. “Interrogated!”

“No, I mean interviewed.”

His initial mix-up with interrogation and interview rang an alarm bell as to his intentions but I thought it best if I co-operated with caution and said, “If you want to interview me, why not come up here and meet me. This is where the crimes occurred not in Townsville.”

“No. That won’t work. The Townsville CIB can’t work independently outside the Townsville region. It will save a lot of paperwork and time if you came down here.”

It served no purpose for me to not co-operate so I said, “Okay. I’ll come down but it will have to be during the weekend. Saturday afternoon would work for me.”

After a short hesitation Hargreaves said, “All right. Two o’clock at CIB headquarters in Townsville.”

I thought for a moment trying to recall flight times between Cairns and Townsville. “What about midday. I need to get a flight down from Cairns and I’d have to wait around for a couple of hours to make a two o’clock appointment. If midday suits you then please email me confirmation of your request for me to travel to your office on Saturday. Include your contact details and directions to your headquarters. You already have my email address. It was included in my contact details in my incident reports.”

After a slight hesitation he responded, “Okay. Midday, Saturday.”

***

I was fifteen minutes early for my midday appointment at the Townsville Police Station in Stanley Street. I had caught the ten forty five Qantas flight from Cairns after spending the night on ‘Irish Mist’. I was hoping to catch the four o’clock flight back to Cairns and return to the Red Rock mine site early on Sunday.

Even though I was early for my appointment I did not have to wait long. No sooner had I given my name to the police officer manning the reception desk than I was escorted down a corridor to a room with the sign on its door proclaiming it to be ‘Interview Room One’.

There was little furniture in the room. Just a largish table with three wooden chairs on each side. I seated myself in the centre chair facing a CCTV camera mounted on the wall, placed my briefcase on the table and prepared myself for a protracted wait. However, I did not have to wait for long at all. Detective Inspector John Hargreaves must have been keen to deal with me as quickly as possible as he arrived about a minute after me. He was not alone. Two equally sour looking individuals were accompanying him. They identified themselves as Detective Sergeant Strong and Detective Constable Mortlock. None of us offered to shake hands.

I was seated on one side of the table facing the three of them. Hargreaves sat in the middle straight across the table from me. All three of them were surly and emanated antagonism. Seeing the sound recording device sitting in the middle of the table I thought that I’d establish the meeting protocols before we got started. Pointing at the recording device I said, “I assume that you are going to record this interview?”

Hargreaves snorted angrily. “Of course we bloody are!”

I sighed and stood up. Picking up my briefcase I said, “Detective Inspector Hargreaves, I did explain to you on the telephone that I will not accept foul language especially when directed at me. I include the word ‘bloody’ in the list of unacceptable words. That being so, unless you immediately apologise, I will leave.”

“You self-righteous bastard. I will speak however I want. You can’t just leave. I’ll… I’ll arrest you.”

I smiled condescendingly. “On what charge? Refusal to be subjected to abusive language by a public servant who has lost all perspective of what his job actually is? Since you show no sign of apologising I will leave.”

Hargreaves wasn’t going to back down without at least one more threat. “Don’t you worry about the charge. I’ll arrest you if you walk out that door.”

“You do realise how pointless that would be. If you arrest me I will refuse to say a word. Eventually you will have to let me go and I will sue you personally for abuse of powers, verbal assault and threats of violence. It would be much better for you to behave like a civilised human being and try to have a conversation that doesn’t rely on foul language.”

By then he had started to reassess his position and cool down. Trying a new tack he said in a placatory tone of voice. “For Pete’s sake. All we want to do is talk with you about your claims of having been assaulted.”

“Okay, I’ll accept that as an apology, just this once. So back to my question, you confirmed that this interview would be recorded. In response I want to tell you that I will be recording the interview as well.”

D I Hargreaves shouted angrily. “You can’t! It’s not police policy.”

“Sorry, but unless you can show me a published Police Regulation to that effect then I insist on being able to record our discussions.”

Hargreaves pointed at the seat that I had vacated. “Sit there while we go and check a few things.”

As they were leaving the room I called out. “Hey, John, would you mind having a black coffee, no sugar, sent in for me while I wait. Thanks.”

D I John Hargreaves did not respond before he slammed the door shut behind him.

***

It was at least ten minutes before Hargreaves and his two henchmen returned. I was still sipping the coffee that had been delivered earlier. Based on the concession implied by the delivery of the coffee I expected that Hargreaves would be a little less aggressive when he returned.

I was right. As soon as the three of them entered and before he sat down, Hargreaves said, “Since you are being interviewed, not interrogated, it has been decided that you may record our discussions from this point onwards.”

I smiled and extracted the digital voice recorder from my pocket and made like I was turning it on and said, “Thank you.” I did not explain that it was already turned on and that I had recorded every word spoken since I had entered the interview room.

While I had been waiting for the detectives to return I wondered if I might have overreacted to Hargreaves bullying tactics. But I instinctively knew that if I had not objected to his domineering manner that his behaviour would only have become even more objectionable. It was better to have called a halt before he built up momentum and I would have been unable to rein him in.

Hargreaves laid his hands on the half dozen or so sheets of paper lying on the table in front of him and said, “I have here copies of two statements made by you that were submitted to the Queensland Crime and Corruption Commission. Let’s talk about the first. The allegation that you were knocked unconscious, then given chloroform and thrown overboard from a fast-moving launch forty kilometres from shore in the middle of the night. You say that you then swam eight to nine hours in the dark, found your yacht drifting past and climbed on board.”

He stopped talking and stared at me looking for a reaction, but I did not respond so he continued with his obviously carefully prepared summary of my incident reports. “Then as though that isn’t enough, you come up with an equally improbable claim that someone tried to run you down while you were out jogging on a lonely road early in the morning. And that you managed to throw yourself clear and were saved when the vehicle swerved to avoid crashing into a culvert. Well?”

I was still trying to see where he was going with his summarising of my statements and responded so that he might explain himself, “Well what?”

“Well, do you really expect us to believe those outlandish stories?”

“No. I’ve told you that already. I’d be surprised if anyone believed them to be true. What’s more you have already described my statements as quote fanciful claims unquote and said that you think I’m a quote self-righteous bastard unquote. So in answer to your question, no, I do not expect you to accept the truth of my statements.”

It was clear that he was not prepared for my response and sat staring at me momentarily silent. D S Strong, seized the opportunity to make his point of view known to me. “We have been wondering whether to charge you with wasting police resources by making untrue statements.”

I looked at him and shook my head in mock sorrow. “Well, if you can make that charge stick then I will be really surprised. For a start I never made any statement to the police. You received a copy of a statement that I made to the Crime and Corruption Commission and decided to waste your time and mine by asking me to come here today to talk to you. So far I don’t see any reason for me not to invoice the Townsville CIB for my travel costs to get here. I might even charge you for my time.”

D S Strong’s face flushed bright red and he looked like he was about to make an angry retort when Hargreaves held his hand up for Strong to stop. Turning to me, D I Hargreaves said, “Since you have demonstrated your powerful imagination already, can you tell us who might have attacked you, and what their motive might have been?”

I shook my head. “No. I have no idea who attacked me, or what their motives might be. In spite of your unhelpful manner on the telephone, I have come here today hoping that you might be able to provide me with at least some of the answers to those questions.”

The three of them exchanged glances before Hargreaves asked in a tightly controlled tone of voice. “And why would you think that we could provide you with any of those answers?’

At first I took their question at face value and responded directly and honestly. “Well, I had hoped that you might have some other case in hand that you thought might be connected somehow to the attacks on me.” I then paused before continuing to think aloud. “Mind you when I think about it now, I realise that if there was a related case then it would have to be a crime that has been committed in the Townsville Region for you to be involved. So, since you are involved, the only crime in the Townsville Region that I am aware of is the Mount Godwin Gold Mine robbery. I know that you were in charge of that investigation.”

I ceased talking and glanced at each of them. They were all silent. Their facial expressions were oddly blank. None of them looked like they were about to say anything. They seemed to be waiting for me to resume talking, so I did just that. “Did you invite me here today because you think that the attacks on me were somehow linked to that robbery?”

This time Hargreaves, after glancing at the others, did respond. “That thought has occurred to us.”

“So you have some theory as to why someone would want to kill me and how it might be linked to the Mount Godwin Gold Mine robbery?”

Hargreaves leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on mine. I was aware that the others were also staring intently at me. After a prolonged silence Hargreaves spoke. “Yes, we have a theory. But first I’d like to tell you a story about the Great Bookie Robbery in Melbourne thirty or more years ago. Do you know of it?”

I nodded. I now knew where this was probably going. It was one thing to talk about this as a possibility with Christine, but it now looked like things were going to get complicated for me. And soon.

He saw me nod and resumed his story. “There were six members of the gang that carried out the robbery. They got away with $16 million at least. Well during the next few years, five of them were killed. Rumour was that they were murdered by other members of the gang who didn’t want to share the loot.”

I couldn’t prevent a quick grin when I thought of Christine’s flippant comment. She and Hargreaves had used the same slang expression.

Hargreaves saw the flicker of the grin and demanded. “What’s so funny? Why don’t you share it with us?”

I shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you. A totally irrelevant thought occurred to me. Please continue.”

With a snort Hargreaves continued. “The other theory was that other criminals might have targeted them to try and steal what the gang had stolen. What do you think of the story so far?”

I shrugged. “You have left out some of the really significant stuff. I remember the TV mini series when it was rerun a few years ago. What you failed to mention was that many believed that the gang were killed by corrupt policemen who were trying to get the $16 million for themselves. In any case, it is a fact that the last gang member was shot by a policeman who was later proved to be corrupt.”

My comment seemed to have derailed his train of thought and he seemed to be momentarily lost for words as he glanced back and forth at the others before recovering and responding forcefully. “Well, you haven’t asked why I told you about the Great Bookie Robbery. Aren’t you curious?”

I shrugged. “Of course I am but I expect you’ll get to the point eventually.”

Hargreaves leaned forward and glared at me. “Well, I will. What might the Great Bookie Robbery and the Mount Godwin Gold Mine robbery have in common?”

I smiled, I knew exactly where he was attempting to lead me but I wasn’t going to co-operate. “Corrupt policemen, perhaps?”

All three of them reacted angrily. Hargreaves couldn’t help himself and launched a tirade of coarse language at me. I did not respond immediately. I was thinking whether to simply exit the meeting without speaking or else quit stirring these guys and play along. Shaking my head regretfully I said, “Sorry, I didn’t get that. Could you say that again?”

This time Hargreaves spoke in a more controlled tone of voice. “You might think that you are too smart for us, but I assure you that we will have the last laugh.”

I nodded. “Okay. Now, what was your question again? Yes, that’s it. You invited me to speculate about a possible connection between the two robberies. Well, I’ll play along for now.” After a brief pause to confirm that I really wanted to play their game, I shrugged and continued. “I assume that you are suggesting that I might be an accomplice in the Mount Godwin robbery and that my fellow accomplices are trying to eliminate me so as to increase their personal share of the loot.”

Hargreaves exploded with satisfaction. “At last. You acknowledge the possibility that you are involved in the Mount Godwin robbery.”

“No, not at all. It is the most outrageously stupid idea that I have ever heard. I acknowledge no such possibility.”

“So, why did you suggest it then?”

It was the risk of my spoken words being taken out of context like this that had convinced me earlier that I needed to have my own recording of this meeting. “Look, let’s be rational about this. If I was really involved in the robbery, why would I report the attempts on my life to the Crime and Corruption Commission? An investigation might uncover a link to the crime.”

D C Mortlock was the next to speak. “You are just the sort of know-it-all that thinks that he can play the system. You think that you can outwit us dumb cops. But we’ll bring you down, mark my words.”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Look, all this animosity is getting us nowhere. I know that I am not involved and it is in my best interest that you accept that as the truth. All the time that you spend investigating me is a complete waste of time and the bad guys are getting further away. I will do my best to answer all questions and provide any information if it will help you to eliminate me from your enquiries. My life is an open book. I have no dark secrets to conceal. Ask away.”