Tehran Decree (29 page)

Tomorrow would be a special day when friends would
get together for the last time, dead or otherwise, precious
acquaintances and resources would be renewed, and unfinished
business completed with vigour.

Chapter Fifty-five

Jansen sat in the Canberra office of Jansen
Associates, Private Investigators, working over the typed sheet the
ASIO director had given him. Whether he liked it or not he was now
working for the government once again on another case with
intractable possibilities. Irksome though it was, it did have its
benefits, (in spite of government standard fees which were
inviolable) by way of regular guaranteed account payments. Although
private clients paid higher fees they were often unreliable in
paying them.

Jeff Dutton, his second in command, rapped on the
door and walked in carrying to two steaming coffees, placing one
directly under Jansen’s nose.

‘Thought you might like a break sir,’ Jansen took in
the coffee aroma.

‘Excellent, you have great predictive capabilities
Jeff,’ he took a short sip of coffee and gazed thoughtfully out of
the window.

‘Did you ever meet Clement Chester, the police
commissioner, Jeff?’

‘Only once sir...I was on traffic duty at the time
and his wife was parked in ridiculous spot just outside the Clarion
Point hotel in a no parking zone. I asked her to move the vehicle
just as Chester came out of the hotel.

He put his hand on my arm, and said I’ll take it from
here constable, then simply drove off. He always struck me as a
cantankerous overbearing sort of man.

‘Yes, that’s the impression he gave me, except he was
also a very secretive man, kept things to himself for future use,’
Jansen finished his coffee and stuck his finger on the typed
sheet.

‘This government case is going to be complicated, I
can sense it -- get your coat Jeff, we’re off to the national
library to join up few dots.’ Fifteen minutes later the two men
were deeply embroiled in text books and maps of the Sydney tunnel
network. Jansen tutted to himself as he started to peruse the tenth
map of the tunnels under the city. Not one of them showed a tunnel
directly under St. Peters bank, in fact, the nearest was several
hundred metres away. Jansen looked inquisitively at Dutton.

‘This is what I mean about Chester, no bloody public
information on the hidden tunnel system beneath Sydney. The man was
supposedly an expert and a commissioner of police, but he never
revealed any of this to the community at large. Every piece of
information was a prisoner once it passed his gaze. No doubt, he
learned earlier on in his career, that knowledge is power. What he
didn’t learn was that a lot of knowledge can sometimes be fatal.
The man was a law unto himself -- I wonder what other secrets he
was privy to.’

‘After forty years as a police commissioner it could
well be highly significant sir.’

‘Lets find out a few more secrets shall we?’ Jansen
accessed the library computer and looked up the major national
newspapers for the period of the presidential tunnel abduction.

Several papers reported the St. Peters Bank robbery
but only one gave a short report of the mechanics of the actual
robbery. Apparently no entry tunnel from the out side of the vault
was ever found, and the large safe was blown by the expert
placement of semtex gel, placed in a ribbon around the locking
mechanism. Whoever did it knew exactly what they were doing. ‘We
need more information on the Sydney tunnels sir.

‘There’s only one thing for it Jeff we’ll have pay
Mrs. Chester a call...I didn’t want do it at this early stage...one
should never interview a grieving woman just after her husband’s
death,’ Jansen keyed in Mrs Chester’s number on his mobile.

‘Hello Mrs Chester...sorry to bother you, but we’ve
been assigned to the cross city tunnel presidential abduction case.
Yes, it’s commander Jansen speaking and we would like to ask you a
few relevant questions. I see...nothing over the phone...right
we’ll be there then,’ Jansen clicked off his mobile and squinted at
Dutton.

‘She won’t speak over the phone, but she’ll see us at
home this afternoon, so you’d better get your overnight bag packed
Jeff, we’re off to Sydney for a few days.’

Chapter Fifty-six

The two private investigators sat on the sumptuous
sofa while Rosey Chester made a pot of tea. The Chester’s best room
was homely and very clean with bountiful brick a brack adorning the
walls and furniture. It seemed that Mrs Chester was an avid
collector of fine bone china -- it was everywhere, with royal
pieces taking pride of place.

Rosey finely came in from the kitchen smiling from
ear to ear carrying a full tray of cups and saucers with a teapot
in the middle. This immediately shocked Jansen...it was almost as
if she was rejoicing the demise of her husband, or she was bravely
hiding her tortured emotions behind a beguiling smile. Jansen
decided to test his assumptions.

‘I understand your husband was an expert on the
Sydney tunnels ...particularly the less well know ones,’ she
relaxed her smile a little.

‘Yes, Clement was an expert on many things...it was
one of his hobbies, he had what you might call a lust for
knowledge. He used to say he was filling his cup before he passed
on...making sure he got his moneys worth at the final hour.’

‘You don’t happen to have any information on these
hidden tunnels; we’ve scanned a couple of libraries for more data
on this; all we could find were maps of existing tunnels.’

‘No commander, you won’t find any...Clement was very
protective of his discoveries, they were secret treasures to him --
like something you keep to yourself and admire in private,’ She
rummaged in a set of draws and produced a pile of yellowing A4
pages. She dropped them on the coffee table.

‘They might answer your question commander,’ Jansen
slowly thumbed through them and stopped at a set of diagrams
showing a skeletal map of Sydney with red lines superimposed on top
of it, depicting tunnels around the city. It looked like a huge
ball of red wool scribbled over the map of Sydney -- there were
literally dozens of tunnels. All of them were numbered and marked
with depth indicators; it was a moles guide to the real Sydney
underground. Clement had obviously been busy in his retirement --
he had turned his tunnels into roads to riches. As if to confirm
Jansen’s hidden thoughts Rosey pulled open the bottom drawer of the
cabinet -- it was full to the brim with wads of fifty dollar bills
-- she pointed to the display.

‘There’s nearly ten million dollars in there
commander,’ Jansen breathed in deeply then directed a stream of air
through pouted lips.

‘My my, Clement was indeed a secret man,’ Jansen
hesitated before asking the next question; he looked Rosey square
in the face.

‘Would that be part of the robbery proceeds from St.
Peters Bank by any chance?’ Rosey cast a wicked smile.

‘It could be...I’m not sure, I found it in Clement’s
tool box beneath his work bench.’

‘I trust you’re going to hand it in to the
authorities?’ Rosey glanced possessively at the drawer full of
bills.

‘Not really commander...I’m keeping it -- it
represents Clements legacy for spending forty harrowing years in
the police force.’

‘But you can’t do that Mrs. Chester...it’s illegal
proceeds.’

‘I don’t care what you call it Commander...it’s
mine.’

‘Not very clever Mrs. Chester, you’ll have a SWAT
team down on you before you could start your get away vehicle.’

‘I don’t think so commander,’ she took a plain bound
book from the mantle piece and gave it to Jansen.

‘Before you do anything else just take a good squint
at that,’ Jansen read the printed title on the front cover.

MY LIFE AS A FAKE COPPER

By

Police Commissioner

Clement Chester

He slowly flipped through the pages reading different
passages as he went. As well as parts of Chester’s personal life,
it was a virtual expose of the rampant corruptions of the police
force, and the Australian government over the past forty years.

Jansen continued perusing paragraphs here and there
taking in the significant points -- he looked grimly at Rosey.

‘This is absolute dynamite!’

‘Exactly commander.’

‘Is this the only copy you have Mrs. Chester?’

‘Do I really look that green commander? An exact
copy

of the book has been lodged with a major British
publisher in the UK. If anything happens to me or my ten million
dollars, the book will be published, and distributed around the
world. Tell that to your political bigwigs.’

‘You’ve made your point Mrs. Chester, I will pass on
your candid information. However, there is a little favour I would
like to ask of you...may I have a copy of the Sydney tunnel
maps?’

‘You may, I thought you might be needing the map, so
I took a photocopy. You can have it on one condition,’ Jansen
stared warily at Chester’s shifty spouse. ‘What would that be Mrs.
Chester?

‘It is for your eyes only...destroy it when you have
used 321

it, it is copyright material and belongs to Chester’s
estate. If you publish it without my consent I’ll take you to
court,’ Jansen looked at Dutton, she had them over a barrel, this
was nothing less than superlative blackmail.

Mrs. Chester had suddenly turned into a very
impressionable lady indeed. She reminded Jansen of Edgar Hoover,
the man who had black mailed and manipulated a glut of successive
US presidents, and managed to hold on to his job until the day he
died. He was one of the very few men who managed to rise above the
cut throat world of politics by the simple expediency of
blackmail.

However, Mrs. Chester’s machinations were of
secondary importance and the case at hand was the prime
consideration. A feeling of distrust erupted deep within his gut;
such feelings in the past had often proven to be true.

It was time to go, lest they succumbed to further
manipulation at the hands of an expert. They both politely said
their good-byes to Mrs. Chester -- Dutton opened the car door for
his boss then took the drivers seat. A persistent frown creased his
features and he momentarily looked at Jansen.

‘It beats me sir, how a man like Chester in such a
prestigious position, could be a patriot and a traitor in the one
breath.’

‘That’s because he actually had no scruples, it seems
to me that the man has always been a bit of a rogue element, and
the only way you can switch on and off like that, is to
compartmentalise everything
--
don’t let your right hand
know what your left hand is doing
--
that kind of mentality.
I’ve a strange feeling Mrs. Chester is of the same ilk.’

‘A sort of multiple personality type sir.’

‘Let’s just say they are great actors, able to turn
it on or off as desired....how do you think some of these people
con the public so successfully -- it’s not just public
gullibility.'

‘No sir...but it does help,’ Jansen smiled
perceptively, turned the car into a parking lot, and extracted the
tunnel map Mrs. Chester had given him, opening it out on his
lap.

Chapter Fifty-seven

Old tunnels below Sydney’s business district were
more numerous than most people realised. However, many of the
cities retirees and streetwise individuals were aware of the
Circular Key tunnel, which ran between the Key and the Public
Library, and was used during the second world war as a nerve centre
for the Army, Air force and Navy, to defend Sydney. It’s major
claim to fame was the Japanese submarine invasion. The order to
drop depth chargers was issued from this underground centre.
Another significant tunnel resided under the Town Hall, and was
used as a command post for plotting aircraft movements.

Jansen laboured over the tunnel map trying to
visualise relative positions of the Tunnels in relation to St.
Peters Bank. Non of the existing tunnels offered any proximity to
the Bank, and to get anywhere near the Vault it would have required
a monumental underground excavation. He deliberately ignored the
red lines placed there by Clement Chester which only compounded the
tangled mass of squiggles.

Jeff Dutton had been working for the past three days
on a transparent sheet of cellophane and had plotted all the recent
excavations including the Sydney Harbour, Lane Cove and Cross City
Tunnels. He laid the sheet over Chester’s map and both men gazed
thoughtfully at the new configuration.

Dutton suddenly stabbed the map with his index
finger.

‘There sir,’ Dutton traced his finger along the cross
city tunnel and onto a red line which went under the Bank. Jansen
carefully checked the jumble of depth figures. There was
significant variation but they were within a few metres of each
other and could have been used to connect with the position of the
banks vault. A couple of hours hard digging could have created an
entry point to the vault. Dutton looked up from the map, a puzzled
expression about his features.

‘But according to the newspapers there was no entry
point into the vault.’

‘True Jeff...but that doesn't mean they didn’t gain
entry.’

‘You think that this is an inside job then sir?’

‘Sort of, and in spite of evidence to the
contrary...I think it was carried out through information given to
the BIB via commissioner Chester, by way of his exclusive knowledge
of the Sydney tunnels. Another thing to bear in mind is that Mrs.
Chester may be privy to this, and possibly even compliant...I think
they are both secret crooks. One thing I’m certain of...corruption
comes with age. That is not to say every elderly person is a secret
crook.’ Dutton smiled naively.

‘Of course not sir.’

‘But some people tend to go that way and Rosey is
just as much a bank robber as her husband.’