The Ghost Shipment, page 18
Green had become such a rare sensation for Bec, she would have missed the faint glimmer from the beside clock if Jay, undoing his belt, hadn’t pointed out most people associated the color with the word go.
She crossed her arms, pulled her top over her head.
Three cracks like gunshots torpedoed the desire, an instant before the front door to the Airbnb exploded inwards. Shouts of Police, put your hands in the air ushered dazzling white-hot lights as the bedroom convulsed with dark shapes in helmets, goggles, yelling, pointing rifles, prying...
Before she could begin to process the intrusion, Bec was snatched and whipped onto her stomach, face planted into the duvet, arms pulled behind her back, wrists cuffed.
She was pulled into the living room, behind Jay who was being dragged, unable to walk because his trousers were around his ankles.
Bec focused on the yellow stripes on the tie of the smug asshole standing over her.
‘What the fricken hell is this about?’
‘We have reason to believe there are drugs on the property.’
‘That’s absurd. Who the hell are you anyway?’
‘Your worst nightmare lady.’
‘I need a name asshole. You picked the wrong... I’m gonna splash your name...’
‘Detective Robinson. Max Robinson. Friends call me Robbo. You can call me sir.’
‘Let’s see some ID. For all we know you could...’
‘Just shut the fuck up. This isn’t an episode of CSI, Corelli.’
‘You got a warrant to show us Robbo?’ It was Jay, who could have been sharing vacation snaps at a party instead of surrounded by cops, his hands cuffed behind his back, trousers round his feet.
‘Don’t need a warrant lover boy. Reasonable grounds for believing there’s controlled drugs. S’all we need.’
The cops were searching the room, opening cupboards, drawers. Bec screamed when one of them reached for her bag.
‘Take them outside. Search them as well.’
A beefcake in Kevlar shoved her into the porch, pushed her up against a wall. He started patting her down. She shuddered when his gloved fingers lingered on her breasts.
He leaned in closer, the bristles of his goatee scratching her neck, the aftershave all masculine wood and hay.
‘What’s the matter bitch, didn’t your boyfriend have time to get it up?’
‘Don’t let him goad you, Bec.’
The cop’s hands moved from her breasts down her sides and squeezed the cheeks of her butt. Bec tensed. When his hand reached around her stomach and he slid a finger inside her panties, she snapped.
She wriggled free of his grip and spun round, aiming her knee at his groin. He anticipated the move, twisted, took the strike harmlessly on his padded thigh.
The cop laughed as Bec was thrown off balance. Infuriated, she turned to lunge again. The blast of pepper spray lashed her flush in the face, like the juice of a million lemons. Her eyeballs convulsed, bursting to explode from their sockets, as suffocating, choking gunk cascaded from her nose.
Laughter nearby made her to refocus, rationalize. She’d written about this. The mucus and tears were her body’s defenses kicking in, flushing out the contamination.
She tried to focus on sounds, a voice...
‘...arresting you for possession of a class A...’
Bec forced her eyes open. The detective was holding a plastic bag the size of a brick, containing white powder...
‘... right to stay silent... talk to a lawyer... noted down and used as evidence against you...’
She opened her mouth to protest, but the words were lost in a fit of gasping, coughing, wheezing, until she succumbed to the pain – to Aristotle dancing in the fires of hell – and collapsed to the ground.
*****
Corelli’s screams reached the ears of Rodrigo Montoya and his brother, even though the windows of Mauricio’s Peugeot were closed. They were watching the arrest from the parking lot of a school, across the road from the Airbnb.
The street was ablaze with the flashing lights of four cars with yellow and blue police markings, beside a black Holden, presumably belonging to a detective.
Rodrigo couldn’t understand why the cops were so restrained.
‘Things are different here. Most of the cops follow the rules. It’s nothing like in Bali or back home.’
‘So how much did this pequeño truco cost us?’
‘Enough coke to put them away for a long time.’
Rodrigo watched as Duggan was led to one of the police cars.
‘I’ve only seen two of them brought out. What about the other American, Bullard?’
‘Relax. If he’s not there, I’ll find him.’
26. Changes of heart
Forty-eight hours can be a dog’s age in politics.
Two days after the humiliating defeats in New Jersey and Montana, Ped was enjoying quesitos at a breakfast function at La Concha resort hosted by the Resident Commissioner of Puerto Rico, who had just announced she was endorsing him for President.
The turnaround from the Commissioner, who until the previous night had been signaling she would be backing her friend Kate Hunter, followed the front page story in El Nuevo Dia, largest newspaper on the island, about the leader of the Roman Catholic Church also switching his endorsement from Hunter to Garland.
The changes of heart were based on the contents of packages delivered the day before.
The Archbishop received a copy of an affidavit from an anesthesiologist in Canada, stating he was present at the termination of a pregnancy of a woman he now knew to be Congresswoman Katherine Margaret Hunter of Maryland. There was also a page from the yearbook of a high school in Olney, Maryland, with red circles drawn around two heads in a senior class photo. From the names below, the Archbishop could see the students identified were a young Kate Hunter and the vice-captain of the boys’ basketball team. His Excellency shared the package with his inner circle at the Archdiocese and consulted with them before making his decision.
The package that arrived anonymously at the office of the Resident Commissioner contained two black and white photos and a sheet of paper with a single type-written sentence. The photos showed the Commissioner in compromising positions with two different men, neither of whom was her husband of thirty-four years. The typed sentence said: Withdraw your endorsement for Hunter and these will never see the light of day. The Commissioner elected not to share the package with her inner circle or husband before deciding Ped Garland would make a fine President.
Ped’s phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He picked up a napkin to dab his mouth, subtly wipe his nose, then put the phone to his ear.
It was Carl, reporting that one of the American muck slingers and an accomplice from New Zealand had been arrested in Auckland, in possession of a large quantity of cocaine.
Ped put the phone back in his pocket, drained his coffee, reached for a guava turnover.
*****
‘I think it’s best you wait in the car and let me handle this, Michael.’
‘But they’ll need me to verify...’
‘No, they won’t. Not at this stage. And if things go badly, they’ll want to arrest you too.’
This wasn’t going as Mike expected. He’d been making headway with an enchanting accountant at a nightclub when he got the call from Jay’s lawyer friend to say Bec and Jay had been arrested and cocaine found at the Airbnb. He’d rushed back to the rental car, decided he’d drunk too much to drive in a foreign city, grabbed his bag with laptop and jumped in an Uber. On the way to the lawyer’s house in Epsom, he’d reviewed footage from the camera in the perfume bottle.
Now they were parked half a block from Auckland Central Police Station, and Julie, the lawyer, was trying to deny him a seat at the show-and-tell.
‘What if they confiscate the phone?’
‘I assume you’ve backed it up.’
He had. And it made sense to let her do her job.
He watched her disappear through the station’s main doors, then fired up his laptop.
*****
‘How does a dropkick drug dealer like you hook up with a lawyer like Julie Pearse? What am I missing here Duggan?’
Jay had refused to answer any questions since he was arrested, and wasn’t about to start now.
Detective Robinson, slouching on the other side of the table, was still talking tough, but Jay could tell doubts were creeping in.
‘Five hundred grams Duggan. We’re talking ten years minimum for you and your girlfriend.’
Jay yawned.
The atmosphere in the room changed the moment Julie Pearse KC appeared. Robinson sat up straight, like a student caught off guard by the principal. Julie took control, glaring at the detective.
‘Where’s Rebecca Corelli? The arrangement was that both my clients...’
‘She’s on her way Mrs. Pearse. Corelli has cooperation issues, if you know what I mean.’
‘And who are you?’
‘Detective Maxwell Robinson, CIB.’
‘What unit?
‘Organized Crime and Drugs.’
‘Figures. I suggest you organize for Rebecca Corelli to get here quick-smart detective.’
‘If she...’
‘And we’ll need a monitor I can connect an iPhone to.’
‘You don’t...’
‘I’ll need a moment with Mr. Duggan. Alone.’
‘I don’t...’
‘Now.’
Robinson remained seated long enough to satisfy his male ego, then stood as slowly as he could and left the room.
Jay was impressed. He was aware of Julie’s reputation, but had never seen her in action professionally. She got straight to the point.
‘What have you said to the police, Jay?’
‘Nothing. I’m familiar with the drill.’
‘What about...’
‘It was planted Julie. We’re being set up.’
‘I know. And fortunately, we have compelling evidence. Let’s hope Bec hasn’t... overcomplicated what should be a straight-forward outcome. Initially at least.’
‘What evidence?’
She didn’t get to answer. Bec’s voice thundered from the hall.
‘Get your fricken hands off me, you moron. I’m familiar with the concept of one foot in front of the other.’
Jay grinned. He and Bec had been separated soon after arriving at the station. He feared for her mental state, particularly after the pepper spray. The sarcasm in her voice suggested she had a measure of control. She strode into the room, red-eyed, but defiant, followed by Robinson.
A policewoman wheeled in a monitor. Robinson launched into the formal preamble. Julie cut him short.
‘I suggest, detective, before we go any further it would be in your interest to watch this video.’
She ignored his protest and, after getting the constable to set up the wireless connection, began the clip.
‘As you can see from the time stamp, this footage begins at 8.21pm. The camera was concealed in a perfume bottle on the bookshelf in the Airbnb, set up to begin recording when it detected motion. For the record detective, the maître d’ at Café Hanoi has electronic confirmation my clients checked in to the restaurant at 7.56pm, and I have the booking details from a roomful of witnesses who will confirm Mr. Duggan and Ms. Corelli were seated at a table until at least 9.15pm, enjoying their meal.’
Jay couldn’t resist: ‘The stir-fried asparagus was delicious Robbo. You should try it.’
Julie, who had paused the clip, pressed play, and the door to the Airbnb slowly opened. A figure dressed in black with gloved hands, face covered with a ski mask, walked in carrying a small backpack. He looked around the room, then disappeared off-screen for a few seconds, presumably to check the bedrooms. When he came back into shot, he put the backpack on the table, took out a plastic bag containing a white substance. He walked to the kitchen section, opened the drawer beneath the basin, raised the bag to his lips, appeared to kiss it, then tucked it behind the garbage can. He collected the backpack and headed for the door.
Julie hit pause, freezing the man’s body in the door frame.
‘How tall are you, Jay?’
‘Six-two.’
‘And how tall would you say the person in the picture is, detective?’
‘Five-eight, five-nine. About Corelli’s height.’
Julie sighed, as if she was indeed dealing with a moron. She turned to Bec.
‘Are you right or left-handed Ms. Corelli?’
‘Right.’
Julie rewound and replayed the video. The planter was a leftie.
Robinson wasn’t looking so smug, all of a sudden.
‘Let’s not beat around the bush detective. We have evidence the drugs were planted in the Airbnb by a person you acknowledge couldn’t have been Mr. Duggan, and is unlikely to have been Ms. Corelli, at a precise time when both Mr. Duggan and Ms. Corelli had a rock-solid alibi.’
‘I’d have to...’
‘Let’s not waste each other’s time detective, not when you have an actual criminal to catch. I’m even prepared to provide you with a copy of the video to kickstart your investigation.’
‘You’re dreaming lady. There was half a kilo of coke in that bag, which qualifies as large commercial quantity. Your asparagus-munching clients are looking at eight to eleven years for sale or supply. You expect me to let them just walk on the strength of a video that could have been doctored by AI or created in any high school media lab? Even if it’s for real, this third party could be an accomplice.’
‘Be that as it may, detective, both my clients have alibis.’
‘Which will have to be thoroughly checked out, counsellor.’
‘Where were the drugs found?’
‘What?’
‘This bag of cocaine. Where exactly in the Airbnb did your team find it?’
‘Under the basin, but...’
‘And what made you raid this particular Airbnb, detective?’
‘We got a tip.’
‘Let me guess; it was anonymous.’
‘I don’t have to...’
‘Oh, come on detective. You know as well as I, my clients have been set up. At the very least, if you insist on pursuing these ridiculous charges against them, this evidence justifies their release on bail.’
The door to the interview room opened, and in walked a welcome blast from Jay’s past: Chris Hansen. She’d put on a little weight since Jay last saw her, but was still wearing the same greenstone hei matau pendant in the shape of a fishhook round her neck.
Her arrival clearly surprised and unsettled Robinson.
‘Detective Superintendent Hansen. Is there something I can help you with?’
‘I doubt it detective. You’re probably the one in most need of assistance.’
‘But... what... why are you here?’
‘I was asked to come. By Mrs. Pearse, on behalf of Mr. Duggan. There are few people on this earth who could drag me from my bed this time of night. And have my private number. Mr. Duggan just happens to be one of them.’
‘This is... most irregular.’
‘In my experience detective, anything involving Jay Duggan falls into that category.’
‘But this is a drugs matter, nothing to do with...’
‘Humor me detective. What have we got here?’
Robinson told her about the discovery of the cocaine at the Airbnb leading to the raid and arrests, Bec attacking one of the officers and having to be OC-sprayed, then the lawyer turning up with a video purportedly showing an unidentified person placing the drugs in the Airbnb.
Julie’s phone beeped. She left the room to take the call.
‘You forgot about our alibi, Robbo. Stir-fried asparagus.’
Robinson glared across the table.
‘Duggan and Corelli claim to have been having dinner at the Café Hanoi at the time the drugs were... the video was taken, but we have yet to verify this. On the strength of that, their lawyer had the nerve to suggest we let them walk.’
Hansen turned to Jay, a puzzled look on her face.
‘I thought you’d given this game away, Jay. If I remember correctly from our last meeting, you were putting your previous life behind you, planting a forest.’
‘Old habits die hard. And trees take a while to grow. There’s a fair bit of down time.’
‘We missed you at the Prime Minister’s ceremony.’
Jay and Hansen, along with an American biologist and English IT expert, had been nominated for New Zealand Bravery Awards for their roles in exposing an international conspiracy over the release of a genetically modified seed coating. Jay turned it down.
‘Not my thing,’ he said.
Julie came back into the room, shaking her head.
‘Before we go any further, Detective Superintendent, I think you’re going to want to see this.’
She put her phone on the table, tapped a few keys.
‘It’s a video, taken from the same camera that captured the drugs being planted at the Airbnb. This shows the raid, led by Detective Robinson, and how your officers behaved while arresting my clients.’
They watched in silence. By the end Robinson was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Hansen was pinching the bridge of her nose.
Julie stood and walked behind Jay and Bec.
‘Here’s what I’m seeing detective, in no particular order. One: You failed to tell my clients under what section of what Act the entry and search was being made, as you are required to do under the Misuse of Drugs Act. Two: You failed to produce evidence you were a member of the Police when specifically asked by Ms. Corelli. Three: You denied my clients the right to watch your officers search the property. Four: The officer searching Ms. Corelli’s person was not of the same gender, as is required under the Act. Five: Ms. Corelli was searched in a location that could clearly be viewed by the public. Six: The officer searching my client deliberately touched the bare skin of her breasts, genitals and buttocks, a clear breach of...’
‘I think we get the point Mrs. Pearse.’
