“Exactly! But that was supposed to be a short-lived thing. Anyway, it’s spiralled out of control following Henrique’s assassination. The Mexicans have pulled together seeking revenge; they believe a non-Mexican group is responsible.”
“Okay, I’m following so far.”
“Well, some of the Eastern suppliers also decided to remove some of the competition – they aren’t happy with the low prices. It’s getting ugly and I am being asked by both sides to help in the fight against the other.”
“Ouch! Not pretty. So, let me guess, you’re in the middle and both sides are closing in?”
“Yes,” Siggerty replied sounding downcast. “It’s only a matter of time until they realise I’m working both sides and they come looking for me!”
The conversation continued for a long time. Burak now detested the drugs trade, even though it had provided him with immense wealth. So, on the one hand, Burak was torn between helping a man he had supported to get established and letting him sink, suffering the consequences of messing in a dangerous business. A range of ideas were thrashed out giving Siggerty options for action given different scenarios.
Following the call Burak sat back and contemplated the ramifications of what Siggerty had said. The man’s future was potentially short. Clearly, he was scared. The authorities would be concerned too – any turf war threatened not only the criminals but also innocent bystanders.
Although not directly a matter for Gurning, Burak called him all the same. He would know the right people to brief and work with to try and take out the assassination squads and keep a lid on a potentially violent turf war.
* * *
Well into their journey, Laura’s phone rang, picking up the car’s hands-free system. It was Rob’s turn in the driving seat, so Laura did the talking, not that much was required. Gurning briefed them of Burak’s call, concluding with “Laura, as always with Burak, it doesn’t rain, it pours! Anyway, when you get back, I will need you to cast your eyes over this as well. This chemical thing remains a priority, but you may find linkages into Operation Network Break.” Gurning used the term they had given to dismantling Burak’s criminal network.
Once the call had finished, Rob and Laura spoke about little other than drug wars for the rest of the journey and the terrible toll they can take on society at large. As a result, Rob felt quite exhausted when they arrived at the Logistics Arranged operations centre. “Actually Rob,” Laura teased, “Given why we’re here, it’s good that you are more somber than when we left!”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And despite the make up to hide some of your injuries, I suspect some will be in awe at the sort of auditing that we do!”
“Ha ha,” he smiled, gazing fondly into her twinkling eyes.
20
The level of hostility towards them was tangible from the moment Laura and Rob entered the building. All staff had, at their request, been informed of their arrival. Their cover was as auditors carrying out a random spot check and wanting to review the entire operational process. Consequently, they were likely to want to speak to people throughout the organisation.
As they walked through the building, along colourful corridors and through the contact centre, they recognised that their presence immediately dampened an otherwise lively environment. People got up and left when they entered the breakout area with a pool table and vending machines. Those they asked to meet were surly and cautious with what they said, regarding them through suspicious eyes.
For one meeting, they called in an operator and a driver to talk through a typical journey, the process of giving and receiving instructions and planning the most efficient route. Their choice had intentionally appeared random, taken from a long list, but Rob had been prepared and knew who he was looking for.
“So, Samantha,” Laura said after the introductions. “Let’s see, why not take us through this assignment,” she continued, flipping through a thick sheaf of papers and selecting a day apparently at random and pushed the sheet over to the woman. “Let’s talk about day three of that tour.”
Samantha Wilde wriggled uncomfortably and glanced at the driver beside her who had taken the instructions for that day. She described her approach to issuing instructions and guidance for the pick-ups, deliveries and ordering the priorities.
“And you would agree with that approach?” Rob queried, looking at the driver.
The man shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“Great!” Rob tried to sound encouraging and positive. “So if I quickly tap all this into my computer,” he continued as Laura turned a small projector on and pointed it at the bare white wall, “We can see the whole journey on a map. I presume you have to take toilet and rest breaks, as well as stops for something to eat?” he queried.
“Yeah, o’course. What you saying?”
“Nothing, just trying to clarify matters. Do you find the pick-ups and drop-offs impact your schedule if you have to wait around?” Rob was playing for time as he typed.
“Yeah, o’course,” came the same, surly reply.
“Ah, so here we are. The computer has calculated the journey on the shortest possible route as being 167 miles. I would never expect anyone to achieve that – allowing for diversions, whether for road closures, traffic jams, or even to find some lunch and an overnight stay or whatever.”
The man nodded, but was clearly wary, having recognised the journey.
“That’s strange,” Laura commented innocently. The sheet here from the van’s computerised log suggests that you drove 283 miles that day.”
“Hey! Jus’ wha’ yu’ sayin’?” the man growled, half standing, leaning his hands on the table, exposing his thick forearms. “You be careful, missy. I don’ like your tone.”
Rob stood up sharply, making the man look at him as a reminder that Rob was clearly used to fights from the still vivid marks on his face. The man sat down again and glared at them.
“I’m sure there is a good explanation,” Rob volunteered. “So, to collect your thoughts, shall we take a ten minute break and meet again after that?”
“Yeah!” The man stood abruptly, his chair toppling over, and strode from the room. Samantha Wilde, pale faced, stood and uncertainly walked from the room, stepping around the upturned chair.
Rob closed the door behind her, but did not return to the table. “Well, we certainly hit a nerve there. I think we should follow them and see what happens. You take the woman.” Before Laura could reply, he had slipped from the room.
* * *
It wasn’t hard for Rob to follow the driver’s progress – the man stomped through the building, barking at people in his way and kicking doors open in front of him without so much as looking back. He stormed from the building and into the car park, where Rob watched him walk up and down as he spoke to someone on his mobile phone, clearly agitated. Within two minutes, the man pocketed the phone, strode to a car, got in and sped off.
Well, I’m not going to see him again, Rob thought as he walked back to the room.
On his way, he met Laura who had been watching Samantha Wilde from the other side of the building. She too had left the building to make a phone call, pacing up and down in the cool, autumnal air.
“I think we should call it a day,” Laura suggested. “We’ve rattled quite a few cages today, and those two the most.”
Rob nodded. “You let her know,” he said nodding towards Samantha who had just walked back into the building. “I will go back to the room and pack our stuff.”
