Chapter 18

The Commander’s office had been transformed into an Operations Centre. Brent explained Hone was bringing the Turners back to the base where they would be under military protection.

The Commander noted Brent’s surprise at the level of activity. “I sent a copy of your findings to the PM’s office. He’s very worried by this unprecedented threat to national security. In fact, he’s seriously considering declaring a state of national emergency on the basis of a credible threat to our bio-security. Because of the nature of the threat, and its source, we can’t release any details to the media or public, but if we declare an emergency, we can then legitimately activate all the powers that it gives us.”

Brent stood silently taking in the enormity of what was being considered. The Prime Minister was now seriously considering declaring a national emergency. Was the situation really so grave? Had he thoroughly analysed the situation, correctly interpreted what he had discovered? Surely the Prime Minister would have had his own analysts check out Brent’s findings.

Dalton interrupted his thoughts. “The PM wants you to continue with your team in the field, for now at least. It’s important we find out as much as we can about the extent of the preparation for the production of this fuel, and the sooner the better. We need faces and locations before we decide on our next move.”

A telephone rang. “It’s the Minister for Civil Defence, for Captain Piri.”

Brent stepped forward, took the receiver and stood to attention.

‘Captain? Richard Bartlett here, how are you? Look, I just needed to touch base with you. The PM wishes to express his gratitude for your work so far and to convey his personal condolences for the loss of Captain Tehane in London. We have a uniquely grave situation here, Captain. The security of our small nation is at risk from a previously unexpected source. As you may know, we are considering declaring a State of Emergency, allowing us to use the powers available under that Act.”

Commander Dalton could tell from Brent’s glazed expression he was being treated to a politician’s speech. He rolled his eyes at Brent, handed him a sheet of paper, and made a slicing motion across his throat. Brent took the cue and interrupted the Minister. “Thanks for the support, sir. Look I need to get back to the operation. The Commander has just handed me an important update.”

He replaced the handset and read the report.

The previous afternoon had been spent trying to cross-reference Cowood Industries' assets to actual locations. He’d stopped looking when he’d found the link to the Kutete wine operation. Someone in the Prime Minister’s own team had taken another look and identified a further link. They discovered there were a number of Cowood-owned farms all located on Waiheke Island. For such a small place, Cowood had an unusually high ownership ratio. These farms had all been acquired within the last two years. This needed further investigation.

Brent looked up from reading the document. “We need to get onto the island and take a closer look at these farms, take blood samples from the cattle and test them. But we also need to do it in a way that doesn’t raise Cowood’s suspicions.”

“I’ll pass your suggestion back to the PM’s office. They can evaluate the options.”

Brent’s mobile phone rang. It was Hone. “It’s me, boss. The Brits want to go to Waiheke Island. Dave says he has an old school mate there. What do you reckon?”

Brent thought for a moment. Having the Turners on the island at the same time Government officials could be there investigating the cattle made him uneasy. As he was about to reply, he heard shouting coming from the phone. Something wasn’t right. “Captain, Hone, is everything OK?”

“They’ve gone. They’ve taken the bloody car and driven off”

“How did you let that happen?”

“I’ve got out to get better reception on the phone and bloody Dave has got into the driver’s seat and hooned off down the hill.”

“D’you think they’ll head to Waiheke?”

“Not sure, boss. They’ve headed north. Just send someone to pick me up before those bloody loggers catch up with me.”

Brent was thinking of a way to get on to the island to test the milking herds. Then he remembered, in London, reading about the outbreak of foot and mouth disease that had occurred the year before. It led to the widespread slaughter of animals, disruption to sporting events, and even the postponement of the General Election. He knew his own country was mercifully free of the disease. Any potential outbreak was likely to be treated very seriously by both the Government and public alike. It could decimate the entire economy. He had his solution.

“There’s going to be the threat of an outbreak of foot and mouth on Waiheke.”

The Commander frowned.

“We need vets on the island taking blood samples, right? So we invent a story. The Government has been sent an anonymous threat that the foot and mouth virus has been released on the island. This’ll give us a credible reason to declare the state of emergency.”

“And you reckon it could work?”

“No reason why not. Despite our investigations, we’ll find no evidence of the virus. The source of the threat will never be made public and the whole story will blow over and be forgotten in a few weeks.”

Commander Dalton narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment. “I’ll contact Wellington with the idea. If they decide to go ahead, they’ll need to brief the Ministry of Ag. The operation will have to be completely ready to go before releasing any kind of media statement.”

An hour later, Brent read the draft of the proposed media release, to be released at 11am the following day:

The Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry Director of Biosecurity said today that MAF and Police were responding to a claimed deliberate release of foot and mouth virus on Waiheke Island.

He said the claim, advised by letter to the Prime Minister’s Office this morning, was probably a hoax but was being taken very seriously.

The Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry has activated its disease management response systems this morning after the letter was received.

As part of this precautionary response a controlled area notice has been issued which restricts the movement of livestock and risk material on and from the island whilst the investigation proceeds.

A controlled area notice has been issued under the provisions of the Biosecurity Act in order to restrict the movement of risk material. Risk materials include live animals, hay, equipment used with animals, untreated products from animals, milk, cheese, meat and wool.

The Director said the notice took effect this morning. He stressed the importance of securing the full co-operation of everyone in the area in dealing with the situation.

He emphasized that there was no risk to public safety or public health. Foot and mouth disease only affects ruminant animals such as sheep, cattle and pigs.

The Police Assistant Commissioner said anyone with any information that might assist enquiries was encouraged to contact their nearest police station immediately.

Senior Ministers and officials have been briefed and a police enquiry into the origin of the letter has been launched.

“While this matter is probably a hoax we must take all necessary steps to safeguard New Zealand’s interests and public welfare,’ the Director said.

Brent grinned. “Good stuff. I like the reference to the fact it’s probably a hoax. Prepares everyone for the expectation we won’t actually find anything.”

He selected a vacant desk, keyed in a website address he had been handed by one of the tech officers, and was on the official Government National Emergency intranet. The Civil Defence Emergency Management Act meant he now had delegated authority and wide-ranging powers to:

“Devise, promote and carry out, or cause to be carried out, research and investigations into matters relating to civil defence emergency management.”

This simple sentence granted him access to any information held on any Government-controlled computer system.

He keyed 'Waiheke Island dairy farms' into the search box. Over 5,000 links appeared. Filtering the search by adding 'Cowood Industries', a much shorter list appeared. He checked farm names against the Land Information New Zealand online database and confirmed Cowood had purchased fifteen farms on the island in the past two years. The next step would be trying to prove the dairy herds on the island were being experimented on before the Ministry vets even had the opportunity to take blood samples.

He accessed the National Law Enforcement computer system and noted all the vehicles registered to Cowood, before finding a file of all the images recorded by the permanent speed cameras situated near the ferry terminal on the island.

The public believed the cameras were only used to photograph speeding vehicles. In fact they were calibrated to photograph every car that passed them, in both directions.

The evidence was clear. A 2002 Toyota Landcruiser registered to Cowood had visited the island at least twice a month, with visits gradually becoming more frequent in the past two months. He had the vehicle. Now he needed to know who the driver was.

Brent’s fingers worked quickly across the keyboard, cross-checking the Landcruiser against pictures taken by other cameras across the Greater Auckland area, until he found the image he was looking for.

He copied the picture and enlarged the driver’s head. A white male, mid thirties, was all he could be confident of at this stage. Loading the facial recognition software being used at Heathrow, Brent dragged the blurry facial image into the centre of the screen, before navigating to the LTNZ internal database and setting it to scroll through the licence photographs of the 227,000 males between the ages of 29 and 39.

Brent left the program running, hoping by the time he returned fifteen minutes later, it would have successfully identified the face, and it didn’t belong to a foreign national who had never applied for a New Zealand driving licence.

* * *

The screen was blank. Sleep mode. Cautiously, he pushed the mouse, flashing it into life. There were now two photographs, the grainy blurred image of the car driver and the licence photo of Tony Robinson.

Now he had a name, the rest would be relatively easy. A passport records check revealed Robinson had spent time in the United States. He was a veterinarian. Tax details confirmed his employer as the Dairytree Vets' Practice. Brent was familiar with this cynically cosier name Cowood used for its loss-making consumer products division.

Cowood was sending its own vet over to the island on a regular basis to look after the cattle it owned. Now he wanted to check whether Robinson had a contact on the island. Someone who might be aware of his frequent visits, or even unwittingly assisting him.

He typed 'Veterinary Council of New Zealand' into the computer and compared the names against the electoral role on Waiheke Island. One entry caught his eye immediately: Edwyn Collington BVMS Bristol 1987. This guy was a British-trained vet.

Brent had a hunch.

He tracked back through David Turner’s residency application to locate the name of his Secondary School. Collington was the same age as Turner, had attended the same school and possibly even been in the same class. The coincidences did not stop there.

The Waiheke phone book showed Collington’s address was the Mushroom Café which he co-owned with his wife, the former Anika O’Sullivan, who had been the wife of Patrick O’Sullivan before separating from him in a very public fashion several years before.

Brent had collected more information in this last hour than he could have hoped for. The next phase of his investigation required even higher security clearance.

The interception of emails had been routinely available to the intelligence service for many years, but since there was virtually no subversive, radical or terrorist activity, its use was largely confined to scanning sensitive messages sent from foreign embassies to their Governments, and back, or the occasional hijacking of embarrassing information sent by members of Parliament.

Brent would have to obtain the written authorisation of the Minister for Civil Defence before he could start snooping through Edwyn Collington’s inbox. He explained to the Commander he needed the assistance of the tech guys located deep under the Beehive.

Permission was quickly granted. All he could do was wait while others hacked into Collington’s phone account and copies of every email were extracted from the phone company’s records. Once all the information had been uploaded to the secure server in the Ops Room, an algorithm set to work locating key words.

Brent was looking for any evidence Edwyn Collington was somehow involved in either the promotion or the prevention of Cowood’s activities. Not enough was known about him to judge where his sympathies lay. Trawling through ten years worth of emails would hopefully bring his true intent to light. In the meantime, a wire tap was put on the phone line of the Mushroom Café.

The Civil Defence Emergency Management Group moved swiftly to activate the Domestic and External Security Co-Ordination Plan. Working on the presumption that the biosecurity threat was genuine, responsibility for coordinating the MAF response was delegated to the Exotic Disease Response Centre.

A small team of vets from Massey University’s Institute of Veterinary and Biomedical Sciences was assembled. The Field Operations Response Team – FORT - included five vets who had travelled to the UK two years before, to offer assistance and expertise during their outbreak of the foot and mouth virus.

The Ministry had not yet carried out its annual exotic disease simulation exercise to test their response to the incursion of diseases like foot and mouth. The FORT team were keen to get onto the island.

The information was withheld from the team that the threat was entirely fictitious. As far as they were concerned, this was no exercise.

The Civil Defence Minister persuaded the FORT team that, due to the physical isolation of Waiheke from the rest of New Zealand’s livestock, and the likelihood that this was merely a hoax letter, there would be no point in arriving en masse just before nightfall. They would be better to fly over in the morning, by which time the Emergency Management Group would have had time to compose a suitable press release.