Choices. Jeff Edwards

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ That’s hard to believe.’

      ‘Well it is. I stood on the stand and told them everything they wanted to know. Everything. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, and do you know what?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘The more I told the truth, the more certain they were that I was lying, and the press were just as bad. They all believe that my company is a cover for ASIO. You can’t believe how many new clients I’ve gained. It seems everyone wants to have their work done by real life undercover agents. I tell them up-front that I have nothing to do with spies, and they wink or give me a knowing smile and sign on the dotted line. The money is rolling in.’

      ‘And you want me to come and work for you?’

      ‘Not a chance boyo. I’m not taking the risk of getting dragged before the ICAC again.’

      ‘Then how can you help me?’

      ‘One of my old clients is selling his delivery business and opening up a taxi company out here in the dusty western suburbs. He needs someone to set up and run the company’s radio network. Are you interested?’

      ‘Sounds ideal!’

      ‘Great! I’ve already told him that you’d do it,’ Liam smiled confidently. ‘He’s going to ring you tomorrow with the details.’

      * * *

      A week later Bob Clements welcomed me to the office of Taxico which was situated in a new industrial subdivision at Wallgrove. With its central locality near the junction of the M4 and the M5 it was an ideal spot for companies in the transport industry as attested to by the large number of trucking companies and storage facilities that were located nearby.

      However, the building it was located in was the only new thing about Taxico. Clements had obviously set the company up on a shoestring budget, and its fleet had for the most part seen better days. The office equipment was also battered and scarred, and the radio equipment seemed to be ex-military from the Vietnam era.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Bob smiled when he saw my dismay. ‘The first thing I’ll do when we get the company up and running is to get you the latest in radio gadgetry.’

      I soon learned that this was Bob’s standard response to all his staff ’s complaints. New taxis, new office equipment, new desk, new chairs, were all on his ‘promise list’.

      With a little help from a couple of Bob’s relatives who he had press-ganged in to help out as telephonists, I was soon able to get the main radio set up and tuned those taxis to the correct frequency. But I knew that setting up the system would be the least of my problems, mainly because Bob’s drivers seemed to come from almost every nation on Earth except Australia. The array of accents was mind-boggling, and attempting to understand what was being said over the airwaves was nigh on impossible.

      Matters were also complicated by the liberal way in which taxi licenses were used. According to the law each driver had to pass stringent exams in order to obtain a license, but when I tried to contact Vijay Singh in taxi #045, my call was answered by a male with a decidedly Central European accent. Rumanian, I thought. Then, if my suspicions were not aroused by the Vijay Singh incident, they were confirmed when I attempted taxi #32 which was booked out to a driver named Connor Clements, who was also one of Bob’s relatives, and the call was accepted in a voice that was definitely feminine with a decidedly African lilt to it.

      When I spoke to Bob about this he spread his hands and smiled. ‘As long as there’s a license displayed on the dash we’ll be fine. No one looks at them anyway.’

      ‘But what about the inspectors?’

      ‘The drivers with a borrowed license are told not to pull up at taxi stands. That’s where the inspectors hang out. I told them to pick up fares from other places, like outside pubs and clubs.’

      ‘What about when they turn up here? They will you know!’

      Bob smiled. ‘That’s why Liam is looking after me. He has an ex-copper mate on the taxi council.’

      I knew I was not going to get anywhere trying to talk sense to the man, and besides, it wasn’t my company. Just shut up and get on with your work, I said to myself as I made my way back to the radio room. This time I’m not the one who’s risking everything.

      Once I had convinced myself to stop worrying about the illegalities taking place at Taxico, life settled down to a semblance of what it had been prior to my fall from grace.

      I chose to be on hand in the radio room for the busiest part of the day, being from four in the afternoon till midnight, Wednesday to Sunday. This allowed me time to get Brook and Josh off to school in the morning. After that I could head to the beach and catch a wave or two before reporting to work in the late afternoon.

      Sandy was now working part-time for the local vet and was home by the time Brook and Josh returned from school.

      Financially, things were tight because my wages at Taxico were a fraction of what I had earned previously, and the money I had earned on the side from Liam no longer existed. Still, this was partly made up by Sandy’s contributions. We would survive, but I knew that there would be no more trips to Bali for me.

      CHAPTER 10

      ‘Another “convenient” death in Bali?’ drawled Radford Spink.

      ‘What?’ asked Graeme Connor.

      ‘You’ve been trying for years to get something on that drug dealing murderer Arny Holland, and now he’s come to a very nasty end. Case closed.’

      ‘Are you saying that we killed him?’

      ‘I’m not saying anything,’ smiled the CIA officer. ‘I’m merely making a casual observation.’

      ‘We don’t murder people!’

      ‘But you have to admit, it was very “convenient”.’

      ‘It was probably one of his own people. That’s usually the case. Someone got greedy and wanted a piece of the action.’

      ‘Yes,’ conceded Spink. ‘I bet that’s exactly what happened.’

      * * *

      ‘That American, Spink, can be insufferable at times,’ growled Connor to his PA at the conclusion to the conference call.

      ‘That’s the trouble with the CIA. They think they know everything.’

      ‘Fancy accusing us of murder.’

      ‘Still,’ said the PA slowly, ‘they seemed to be fairly certain. Why else would Spink mention it?’

      ‘What possible evidence could they have? We simply do not engage in such activities.’

      ‘Yes. You’re probably right sir.’

      * * *

      There was one person in ASIO headquarters to whom the death of Arny Holland did not come as a shock. In fact, she would have been surprised if something dramatic СКАЧАТЬ