Chapter 9
They drove into the car park of the vet’s practice. The three helicopters landed in an adjacent paddock.
David could see people, obviously unaccustomed to helicopter travel, awkwardly disembarking. Large, heavy–looking bags were thrust at them from inside the helicopters, knocking them off balance They crouched as low to the ground as possible, running for at least twice the length of the rotor blades as they struggled to protect their heads from the fierce down draught of the blades which kept up their deafening rotation.
Ed and David ran into the reception area of the building where the group was already assembling. A casual nod to Ed as they entered was the only clue David needed to indicate which one was Darren. The group stood crammed into the small space, some talking quietly, others silent as if they knew no–one else.
“Ok, guys, can I have your attention? Welcome to Operation Waiheke. Now, you should all know your teams. Each group has three properties to visit. You each have a list and the local practice is going to assist with transport and directions.” The speaker walked over to where Ed had just finished quickly introducing Darren and David. “Which one of you is Nicholls?” Darren stepped forward, shaking an outstretched hand. “Hi, Darren, Professor Eric West. I’m an exotic disease investigator with Bio Security NZ. Can I put you in charge of sorting out the transport and directions to this list of farms?” He snapped a pre-typed list from his clipboard and handing it to Darren.
David watched Ed’s face intently. It was the most serious he had seen him since they had met. His eyes were slit in a barely disguised look of distrust. He slowly turned to David, angling his head back towards the door and whispered. “Walk back to my truck in one minute.” Ed made his way behind the reception desk and out into the rear of the building.
Darren escorted his group through the same door before returning alone, stopping at the office space behind the desk. “Just photocopying the list for you guys. I won’t be a minute,” he called out.
The Professor approached David. “And you are?” he said in a less friendly tone than the one extended to Darren.
“Oh sorry - er - Dave, just dropping the cat off to be done. See you later.” The minute was up and he hurried out to Ed who was already in the driver’s seat with the engine running. He barely had time to shut the door before the 4x4 was on the road, heading back towards the café.
“So, Dave, here’s the deal. There are fifteen farms on the island involved in producing this modified milk which we know is being used for the initial production of this new fuel somewhere on the mainland. This facility is probably closely controlled by an American outfit and our Government is powerless to intervene in the private business of a legitimate company unless they have good reason. So they’ve concocted this foot and mouth story as a means of legitimately gaining access to the treated herds in order to take blood and milk samples for analysis. They probably suspected this was going on somewhere in the North Island. It appears you coming here has aroused their suspicions enough to risk putting this so-called Operation Waiheke into action in the full glare of international publicity, risking our whole beef and dairy industry in the process.”
“So what do we do?”
“In the short term - I mean the next twelve hours - nothing. We need to let them get on with it. They’re only doing their job, albeit under a bloody clever cover story. So we just need to co-operate, not arouse suspicion and get you off this island.”
Back at the café, Ed rushed into the small office area in the corner of the kitchen. “Aha, good work, Daz,” he said, retrieving a sheet of paper from beneath the fax machine, and glancing through it. “He faxed me the list Eric West gave him. Ten of the farms on it are using the enzyme. MAF have some good inside knowledge of what’s been going on here.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Ed was on the phone. As he had predicted, the suspected foot and mouth outbreak made the lunchtime news bulletins. MAF were responding to a claimed deliberate release of foot and mouth disease on the island. David listened as Ed talked to local farmers, friends and concerned council members, giving advice, sympathy and encouragement but not once giving away what he believed to be the true reason the government scientists were on Waiheke.
At four-thirty, Darren called again. Professor West had told him the Controlled Area Notice for the Island was to be put in place in the next half an hour, before the afternoon ferry was scheduled to dock This would stop animal movements to and from Waiheke and initially restrict human movement also.
“Clever,” said Ed when he came off the phone, explaining that there was no scientific reason to restrict human movement but, by doing so, the authorities would be able to stop David and Katherine from leaving, at least by ferry. So, for now, although he was not exactly captive, David was at least restricted by the Government controls that were to all intents and purposes legitimately in place.
As Ed pointed out over dinner, “It’s very clever. The Government has obviously latched onto your presence and probably realises that you may be of use to them. So they have concocted this outbreak which serves two purposes - it keeps you under their control by stopping you leaving the island, and it gives them legitimate access to the compromised herds. Brilliant, bloody brilliant. But they can’t be seen to be involved in anything that might arouse the suspicions of Cowood.”
He stopped speaking and glanced at David but it was too late. “The suspicions of who, Ed?” David had never mentioned Cowood to him by name.
“Shit damn and bugger!” Ed stood up and began pacing the floor, agitated, scratching his head and rubbing his unshaven face, wrestling with what to say next. Slowly he pulled his hands down across his cheeks and bearded chin before letting out a long sigh.
“Tell me what you know about Cowood, Ed.”
Ed pulled his chair around the perimeter of the table until he was next to David. He spoke in a hushed tone. “Cowood is the biggest single threat this country has ever faced. It’s an invasion, a take- over, a complete desecration of the land and people of New Zealand, and only a handful of people even know its happening, let alone are trying to stop it. Look at me, Dave. Tonight I’m stone cold sober, so believe me, what I am about to tell you are cold hard facts, mate. Firstly, you are part of the invasion, Dave. You and hundreds like you are being innocently recruited to bring money into the country, barely hidden within the thin magnetic strip on a credit card. During the last two years, we reckon about $180 billion U.S. dollars have been brought in by unsuspecting tourists and immigrants like you. It’s a brilliant plan. Plant the cards at the point of departure and then let them travel into the country. Our Immigration Service and Customs haven’t a hope in hell of even beginning to know where to start as far as confiscating credit cards from everyone coming in, so in they come, tourists and immigrants carrying that valuable piece of plastic, sometimes minus a few hundred bucks if they have found the card during their journey. Once they are here, the card is retrieved, usually within twenty four hours and usually by pickpockets or bribed hotel cleaners. Occasionally the couriers deviate from their expected itinerary. Sometimes the card has to be retrieved by force. So we see a small but steady number of foreigners apparently dying on our roads, or in climbing accidents, or getting lost in the bush. Of course, the police never investigate the theft aspect of these murders because as far as they are concerned the card was never there in the first place. Once the card is back in the possession of Cowood, the money can begin its slow journey buying up the land beneath our feet. The cards are used to buy high value items, mainly from Asia - electronic goods, cars, boats, that kind of thing. It’s no coincidence New Zealand now has one of the highest rates of boat ownership and the highest rate of car ownership per head in the world. These goods are sold off primarily on a publicly accessible internet auction site which is controlled by a Kiwi holding company, but it’s ultimately owned by the American parent through a complicated series of offshore trusts.”
“A bit like EBay?”
“Kind of. Cowood realised they needed a legitimate way of laundering the money, so they set up a complex system, relying on New Zealand’s physical isolation from the rest of the world. There are a number of agents who import these goods and advertise them on the auction website under the guise of being one of the hundreds of thousands of legitimate online traders. In reality there are probably only about seventy-five to a hundred Cowood agents trading on the site, but each has several hundred online pseudonyms. Of course, they set a reserve price to cover the cost of the item and then, if the item sells for more, Cowood makes a small profit as well as successfully laundering the money. The bizarre thing about all this is that, as a result of Cowood coming up with this scheme, New Zealand now has one of the most enthusiastic online trading populations in the world. So many Kiwis have signed up to buy or sell their own stuff perfectly legitimately that, in the past year alone, the population of New Zealand has contributed around eighteen million dollars in commission to Cowood’s online trading scam and therefore is actually willingly bankrolling its oppressors. So there you have it, Dave. A subtle invasion. The money comes in, gets laundered and is absorbed into the economy with the tacit co-operation of the population. The money is then used to purchase vast tracts of land, again with the entirely reasonable aim of establishing forestry or dairy herds. The profit from these operations will then be used to construct the conversion plants to produce the bio fuel and connecting pipe work infrastructure, and eventually a Trans–Pacific pipeline. Because all the profit is re-invested in the business, there is very little the regulatory authorities can do to either influence or stop how the business grows. It’s only a matter of time before Cowood actually achieves its aim. They’re obviously very secretive of their true intentions, and we have a hell of a job trying to convince people any of this is happening at all.”
That was it. Right at the end, just then, the confirmation David had been waiting for. Ed had finally let slip an innocuous ‘we’. He was involved in this far more than he had let on up until that moment. Sure he knew the background story and seemed to have a good grasp of the bigger picture, but with that one small slip of the tongue he had confirmed a suspicion that had been increasing in David’s mind ever since they had reunited the day before.
“You said 'we'.”
Ed sat back, momentarily startled. “What do you mean?” he said, defensively.
“You said we have a hell of a job. Who are we?”
Ed shook his head, trying to find the right words. ‘However I say this, it’s going to come out sounding melodramatic and overly sensational, so I’m going to just say it, OK? I’m with the resistance.”
A smile turned into a gentle chuckle, which developed into full scale laughter as, in David’s mind, Ed was now speaking in a French accent and wearing a beret.
A momentary grin crossed Ed’s face also. “Piss off, Dave! I can’t think of any better way of putting it, alright?”
“So what does this resistance do then, Ed?”
“Well, we try and find out what the Government knows about Cowood, try and resist by stopping the money coming in. That can be the most difficult thing. We know the New Zealand Secret Intelligence Service has agents in all the major cities around the world that immigrants originate from - London, Johannesburg, Los Angeles and about a dozen others. For example, in London the SIS placed an agent in a senior position in the Royal Mail. He, in turn, handles a number of other agents who are employed as sorting office supervisors. The SIS have trained them to re-programme the sorting office technology to recognise the distinctive pre-printed envelopes that the Associated Bank of Monaco uses for mailing out the credit cards to potential couriers. They can then send a list of who the bank has targeted to be cross-referenced with passenger lists for flights inbound from the UK to Auckland.”
“So you knew I was at the airport waiting to come here?”
“Not exactly. I found out about four hours into the flight that it was you, after the stuff happened with the SIS agent being murdered.”
“You already knew about that?”
“He was working as a cleaner at the airport and was trying to intercept you and get the credit card before you left. It was the poor bugger’s first proper mission and he decided to take on the guys who were planting the card on you. The poor sod was overpowered and thrown off a roof. Anyway, your name sounded familiar. I ran a quick check on your last address and confirmed it was the same fella I went to school with. Meanwhile the SIS put what they call an Alpha One Zone in place. They kept watch and guided you all the way to the seat you’re in now.”
“All the way?”
“The intercept at Changi Airport was the SIS. They can only work officially within our own border, so had to assume British identities before the Singapore authorities would allow them to question you. The guy at the car rental in Auckland was also SIS. I didn’t anticipate you trying to track me down, and you threw them off for a bit when you booked that flight south. They traced my email reply back to you, which they could only do when you went back online at the ferry terminal in Auckland. We didn’t count on them having a cover story ready and coming here quite so soon.”
“So how did you get involved in all this, Ed?”
“It was when Trevor, the sales guy from the Pharmaceutical division of Cowood, came to the island and started promoting their so called wonder product. Being a vet myself, we got chatting about this and that, and one night after our third bottle of Pinot his tongue loosened up. At first it all sounded wildly far-fetched, until a few days later when a farm hand called me to come and look at an animal. When I got there, we drove out in the 4x4 until we got to a deserted paddock. Not a bloody cow in sight. I stopped the engine and we sat there for an hour while he confirmed not only everything Trevor had said, but far more stuff. Trevor had painted this rosy vision of a hugely successful multi-national conglomerate that was investing in the future of this country and would make all the farmers - dairy workers and everyone in between - stinking rich. This farm hand said he had heard another darker side to what was going on. He explained how Cowood was about to move onto the next phase of their plan. Coffee?” Ed decided now would be a good time for a break, stood up, and made his way towards the kitchen. “He said the biggest obstacle Cowood would have to overcome, when the full extent of their plans eventually became public knowledge, would be the huge international and local opposition to their proposal. They would need friends in high places, and lots of them, when the time came.”
David interrupted as Ed continued making the coffee. “So who is going to support this supposed invasion if everything you have been told is true?”
“The Greens.”
David was surprised by this unexpected reply. “The Greens?”
“Exactly, the Ecological Political Assembly of New Zealand. EPANZ, is our equivalent of the European and North American Green parties. They have a significant groundswell of popular support in New Zealand, especially in the middle class. Cowood recognised this early on. Slowly and methodically they have infiltrated the Party. Just think about it. Cowood advocates sustainable, renewable energy using existing resources and infrastructure. The tree huggers love the idea but the poor bastards don’t realise their principles are being manipulated for massive corporate gain. The next general election is in three years time. Between now and then Cowood aims to have a leader of EPANZ who is completely sympathetic to their aspirations. They’ll pump huge dollars into EPANZ, quite legally, through member donations from ordinary Kiwis; farmers, land owners and the like who traditionally would have been the last people to vote Green, but who now, of course, sell their products exclusively to Cowood, who in turn will exercise complete control over the manifesto of EPANZ. In three years, New Zealand will be the first country in the world to elect a leader from a Party founded solely on ecological issues. They will have such an overwhelming majority that they’ll be able to pass any bill in Parliament that Cowood needs in order to begin work on the construction of the interconnecting pipelines and the consequential destruction of the land in-between.” Ed passed David his coffee and sat back down. “Believe me, Dave, it’s going to happen. In fact, it’s already started. Today is evidence of that.”
David sipped his coffee. “Ok, Ed, so how do you stop it?”
“We can’t really stop the money; we can only slow it down. Each card brings in such huge amounts of the stuff it’s like fighting a forest fire with a bucket of sand. There are some guys on the mainland who are starting to take direct action, mainly out of frustration. Some of the smaller landowners feel they are being intimidated into selling out when Cowood buys up the surrounding acreage. These fellas might start a fire and destroy a few hectares of Cowood forestry, but Cowood just ignores it or puts it down to personal grievance or jealousy. So, for the moment, they don’t seem to be aware that there is any kind of undercurrent of unrest or resistance to them.”
“But what about what happened at Heathrow? Surely that must have shown them someone is trying to sabotage their plans?”
“The Government managed a pretty good cover story with that one. The High Commission in London issued a press statement saying the murdered agent was part of a criminal gang at the airport who were employed as cleaners and who then branched out from pick pocketing and petty theft in the public areas to stealing from vehicles in the car parks. The press release said the car parks are the territory of the Asian baggage handlers who work at the airport. He was busy casing vehicles when they saw him in his cleaner’s uniform and took exception to him working their patch, so they threw him over the wall as a signal to the other cleaners to stay away. Unfortunately, the fact that he died in the line of duty, trying to protect his country, can never be revealed to his family or the public.” Ed glanced at his watch. It was six-thirty. “Go upstairs, grab a bag and meet me by the truck. We don’t have much time. MAF have called a public meeting in the Memorial Hall at seven to brief the farmers and the rest of the islanders. It’s going to be our best chance to get you off.”
David walked into the bedroom. Katherine was lying on the bed, sobbing. She looked over to him and another wave of salty tears rolled down her left cheek to join the others steadily moistening the cotton sheet beneath her head. She sniffed. “Do you know where they are taking you?” She seemed to have known the next step before he did;
“Er, not sure, back to Auckland, I think, at least for tonight anyway, How do you know? What’s Anika been saying?”
She sat up, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “She said a war has started, and that by coming here and invading their own island, the Government has made it clear that it knows what’s going on and that it isn't prepared to let it go. She thinks the Americans will make the next move and that’ll probably be to try and intercept you. Ed is taking you to meet some guys in the South Island who can protect you and what you are carrying.” She stood, the vertical movement unleashing another wave of tearful emotion as she hugged him tightly. “Dave, what’s going on here? Why can’t they leave us alone to just get on with setting up home and living our lives? How have we become so heavily involved in all of this?”
“It’s precisely because we’re just normal Mr and Mrs Average, the kind of people who can move into and around the country without attracting any suspicion or attention. So we’ve become part of their plan. But we’ve realised what is going on, paid attention when we shouldn’t have, so I just need to be kept out of the spotlight. The Government want to use me as bait and Cowood wants their card back.”
Katherine dried her eyes and looked up at her husband. “Anika has said I can stay here. Of course, I want to come with you but she says, if I stay here, it’ll throw them of your scent, at least for the next twenty-four hours. Hopefully they’ll think you’re still here as well and that will give you time to get away, down south, somewhere safe, then you can let me know and I can come and join you.” She trailed off into yet more sobbing, hugging and tears.
They stood for several minutes holding each other, feeling each other’s warmth. They had not held each other like this for a long while.
Ed called up the stairs. “Dave we have to leave NOW!” They didn’t move. Ed called again, this time softer, more apologetic. “Sorry, both of you. We have to go, Dave.”
Reluctantly they pulled apart. The room became instantly cooler. David kissed her again, turned, picked up his bag from by the door and hurried down stairs, through the deserted café and out into the dark early evening gloom.
Ed explained high tide was at seven-thirty which left just enough time to drive as far as they could before tramping the final kilometre to the isolated bay where a boat waited to take them back to Auckland.