Safe House

Chapter 2

2

Superintendent Cameron Yap Yap Barker ushered Foley and Rose into his office and indicated they should sit. He picked up a file which lay open on his desk.

“Thanks for coming in on your day off.” He looked first at Foley, and then at Sam. “We’ve had a job dropped in our lap, which I think you two are best suited for.”

“Sounds interesting,” Foley said.

“It is…kind of,” Barker said, tentatively. “First, I have to give you the back-story. It might make things a bit clearer.”

“Okay.” Foley nodded.

Barker referred to the file in his hands. “Does the name Jackson Traynor mean anything to either of you?” He looked up from the file, expectantly.

“No, I don’t think so,” Foley answered.

Sam shrugged. “No, not to me either.”

“How about the name, Miguel Alvarez?”

“I don’t think so,” Foley said.

Sam Rose shrugged again.

“Joaquin ‘El Chapo’ Guzman?” Barker asked.

“What is this, boss? Twenty questions?”

“Bear with me, please.”

“Guzman,” Rose said. “Isn’t he the South American d**g king-pin?”

“Mexican.” Barker looked back at the file. “Guzman was extradited to the US a couple of years ago on international d**g smuggling charges and is currently languishing in a maximum-security prison in the States. He was the head of the Sinaloa cartel, arguably the most powerful illegal d**g trafficking organisation on the planet. Miguel Alvarez, his trusted lieutenant, is now believed to be the head-man in the cartel and personally oversees the ‘dark-network’ spanning the Asia-Pacific region, including Australia.”

“The ‘dark-network?’” Foley queried.

“These days, very little of the illicit drugs coming into Australia come directly from Mexico. Rather, they are smuggled through a network of countries in the Pacific, countries like Vanuatu, Fiji, and New Caledonia.”

“Isn’t this El Chapo Guzman character the dude who escaped custody a couple of times back in Mexico?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, that’s the prick. The Mexican authorities captured him some years ago, locked his arse up, and he managed to dig an elaborate tunnel and escape. He was recaptured a couple of years ago and extradited to the States. That’s when Miguel Alvarez stepped up to the plate and filled the void left by Guzman. It’s no coincidence that Alvarez’s rise to leadership of the cartel coincided with a sudden spike in illicit d**g importation into Australia.

“A few years ago, Alvarez formed a somewhat uneasy alliance with Salim Ghandour, the head of a Middle-Eastern crime family, operating out of Sydney.

“At that time, the Ghandour family were the prime movers in the nation-wide distribution of illegal drugs imported into Australia. Alvarez wanted control of the lucrative Sydney d**g market and Ghandour was not about to simply hand it over. When he subsequently lost a couple of senior associates to drive-by shootings, including his eldest son, and survived an attempt on his own life, all believed ordered by Alvarez, he decided it might be healthier to form a partnership with the Mexican.”

“Where does Jackson Traynor fit in all this?” Foley asked.

“Traynor is a Detective Sergeant with the Australian Federal Police, based in Canberra. He was attached to the Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission as part of a Task Force raised to investigate international crime syndicates smuggling drugs into Australia. He spent almost two years working deep undercover as a member of Ghandour’s crime g**g.

“Traynor worked his way up through the ranks of the organisation, to where he was a significant player in the Sydney d**g underworld. He was the man trusted with the distribution of tonnes of illegal drugs smuggled into the country via the dark-network on behalf of the Alvarez cartel.”

“Two years!” Foley said. “Must have picked up some pretty good intelligence over that time.”

“What he didn’t learn wasn’t worth knowing,” Barker explained. “He knew it all, identities of the major players, both here in Australia, and in Mexico. Names, dates, places, dollar values; he had enough intel to blow the whole organisation apart, including the Pacific connection.

“I am informed by our Federal police colleagues that Traynor was pivotal in the interception, and seizure, of over three-hundred-and-fifty million dollars of cocaine and amphetamines, smuggled into Australia through the dark-network by associates of Alvarez’s cartel, and bound for Salim Ghandour’s distribution network.

“The information, supplied by Traynor, resulted in the arrest of all of the key players, both in this country and a couple of Pacific countries. Simultaneous raids on a number of residences, warehouses, shipping containers, aircraft hangars, and sea freighters, in three states, blew the syndicate wide open. The Feds seized six million dollars in cash, not to mention several luxury homes, yachts, and cars.”

“I’m guessing Traynor would be keeping a low profile these days,” Foley supposed.

“And looking over his shoulder a lot,” Sam added.

Barker placed the file back on his desk. “Traynor is due to testify against the Ghandour family and its connection with Alvarez’s Sinaloa cartel in a couple of weeks. Needless to say, his testimony will result in a lot of people going to prison for a very long time, including Salim Ghandour, his only surviving son, Hakim, and a number of high-profile cartel associates here in Australia. Word on the street is Miguel Alvarez and Salim Ghandour are not happy campers. Our Federal counterparts believe there are two contracts out on Traynor’s life, one ordered by Alvarez, and one by Ghandour. They believe Alvarez sent two professional hit-men over here to take him out.”

“All the way from Mexico?” Sam asked, incredulously.

“All the way. They went to his home in the early hours of the morning, but he wasn’t home…he was out running.”

“Running, in the middle of the night?” Sam asked.

“Traynor is an insomniac,” Barker explained. “Has been for years, apparently. He often went running when he couldn’t sleep.”

“So, they missed him?” Foley guessed.

“Yes…and…no. They missed Traynor, but his wife and twelve-year-old daughter were at home asleep when the baddies came. They brutally r***d both, and then stabbed them to death. Traynor found them when he got back from his run.”

“s**t!” Foley exclaimed.

“s**t, indeed.” Barker nodded.

“How do the Feds know it was the Mexicans, and not Ghandour’s crew, who killed his family?” Sam asked.

“Traynor is certain he knows who it was.” Barker referred again to the file on his desk. “He says Alvarez has one particular dude he uses when he needs someone taken care of. Bloke by the name of Rodolfo Herrera, a Mexican of Spanish descent. Those who move inside the international d**g trade refer to him as ‘The Wolf.’”

“What about the second bloke?” Foley asked.

“Mostly, Herrera prefers to work alone. Intel suggests he is a clinical, methodical killer. He gets the job done, quickly and cleanly, and gets out just as quickly and cleanly. It seems this might be the first time he has used an accomplice, a bloke by the name of Ignacio Vargas. Vargas is a particularly nasty piece of work from a small village south of Mexico City. According to Traynor, he likes to use a knife, and almost always includes a s****l component when he kills, and doesn’t much care if the victim is male or female.”

“Charming,” Sam commented.

“How did these two toe-rags get into Australia?” Foley asked.

“False passports,” Barker answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “That’s not difficult given the circles in which they move. Besides, they’re both clean-skins; not so much as a parking ticket between them back in their home country.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Sam commented.

“It’s common knowledge that the Mexican authorities don’t have the best track record in regards to corruption. You want a clean record, greasing the right palm will get it for you. The international d**g cartels talk about millions like we talk about weekend milk money. Our Australian authorities didn’t even know they were in the country until after they arrived.”

“Where are they now?” Foley asked.

Barker shrugged. “It seems they disappeared within an hour or so of arriving. The Feds have no idea where they went.”

“Where is this Jackson Traynor dude now?” Foley asked.

Barker sat back in his chair, paused, and exhaled loudly. “That’s where you and Sam enter the picture.”

“Why do I suddenly regret asking?” Foley said.

“Traynor, his wife, and his daughter, were lodged in a safe-house in Sydney following the d**g busts. Somehow, the location was compromised, resulting in the murder of his family. Subsequently, the Feds moved him interstate.”

“He’s here, in the Territory, isn’t he?” Sam guessed.

“Been here since just after his wife and daughter were killed,” Barker confirmed.

“Where?” Foley asked.

“Ti Tree. Two hundred k’s up the track.”

“Why Ti Tree?” Sam questioned.

“It’s a quiet, nondescript town, close enough to send assistance from here reasonably quickly, if required.”

“Assistance?”

Barker leaned back in his seat, sighed heavily and eyed Sam and Foley.

“There’s more isn’t there?” Foley asked.

“Apparently, the Feds feel the safe-house at Ti Tree may have also been compromised.” Barker sat forward and leaned his elbows on his desk. “They want Traynor taken into protective custody.”

“By us?”

“Yes. Traynor has a protection detail in place. A team of four working in twelve-hour shifts, two chaps sitting on him twenty-four-seven. But the Feds have requested a local escort.”

“Why the escort?” Sam asked. “Why don’t they bring him down here themselves?”

“Apparently, there is credible intel indicating the two hit-men, Herrera and Vargas, are still in the country. Traynor knows a lot about Herrera and insists he has never failed to complete an assignment. He will not quit until he has completed what he set out to do.”

“Kill Traynor?” Sam asked.

“Exactly. It is believed Herrera knows where Traynor is hiding out and is on his way to the Territory to finish the job, if he’s not here already.” Barker paused before continuing. “This is our turf. The powers that be, upstairs, want a local component in the escort team. That would be you and Russell.”

“How did these roosters find out Traynor was in Ti Tree?” Foley asked.

“The Feds aren’t saying. But, rumour has it the cartel has a man inside the International Crime Task Force. If Traynor is killed, Salim Ghandour and his cohorts in the Australian arm of the Mexican cartel are going to walk.”

“How long is he going to be in our care?” Sam asked.

Barker shrugged. “I can’t tell you that yet. He will be flown to a secure, secret location as soon as a suitable military aircraft can be dispatched to pick him up.”

“Military aircraft! Sounds like the Feds might be a tad worried,” Sam posed.

Barker leaned back in his chair and eyed both Foley and Rose. “Let me be perfectly clear about this job. I am informed that these two are not to be taken lightly. They are professionals. They have killed before, many times, and will not hesitate to kill again should anyone get in their way. Chances are they are not here yet, and you will not meet them. But, remember this—if you do run into them, they will kill you in the blink of an eye, and then this Vargas character will f**k your corpse.”

“What, no dinner and flowers first?” Sam commented.

Barker fixed Sam with an icy stare. “I’m serious, Sergeant Rose. If you think you’ve seen the worst of life’s scum since you’ve been in the job, you’re not even close when you consider these two arseholes. I hope you don’t run into them, because if you do, this may well be the last time I see either of you alive.” He picked up a page from his desk and handed it to Foley. “This is the location of the safe-house in Ti Tree. There’s a vehicle fuelled up and ready to go in the carpark out the back.”

“What about the Ghandour contract?” Sam asked.

Barker shrugged. “Intel has gone quiet on that. The word is Ghandour uses an interstate based two-man team when he wants someone hit. Maybe he cancelled the contract when he found out Alvarez had sent two men out here.”

“Or, we’ve got four hit-men looking for Traynor,” Foley suggested. “Sounds like a job for the Task Force.”

Barker nodded. “Normally, it would be a job for Task Force. But we want to keep this low-key. If Herrera and Vargas are here already, we don’t want to scare them off with an overt show of force. The Feds would like to bag both of them, if possible.”

“Why the overnight bags?” Foley asked.

“Originally, the plan was to escort Traynor back here, where we could keep him in protective custody until the military aircraft arrived.”

“But?” Foley questioned.

“If the two hit-men are aware of the safe-house in Ti Tree, it’s reasonable to assume they are aware of the plan to bring Traynor back here. They can’t afford to let that happen. Accordingly, I have changed the plan. You are not to bring Traynor back here until you hear from me, personally.”

“Where are we taking him?” Foley asked.

Barker shrugged. “I am liaising with a bloke I have known for several years. He owns a couple of cattle stations here in the Territory, including Aningie Station, northwest of Ti Tree. He runs both from a station further north, up past Tennant Creek, and has a sole caretaker in the homestead at Aningie. It’s isolated, forty kilometres west of the Stuart Highway. You are to escort Traynor, and his security team, to Aningie Station, and contact me when you get there. There is no mobile phone reception out there, but I am told the caretaker has a satellite phone.”

“How long will we be there?” Foley asked.

“It might take a while to organise a military flight to pick up Traynor. Apparently, most of the military aircraft based here in the Territory are involved in war games with the United States, operating out of the Tindal Air Force base, south of Katherine. Could be later today or even tomorrow. As soon as I know a chopper has been despatched I will contact you on the satellite phone.”

“Who knows about this Aningie place?” Sam asked.

“So far, just the three of us in this room, the station owner, and his caretaker. When I speak to Traynor’s boss in Canberra, I will inform him. If there is a leak in the system, the fewer people who know where to find Traynor, the better.”