CONTINUED

~~

 

......The transport trucks carrying wheat from surrounding

farms, some hundreds of kilometers away would arrive at

the Goondiwindi receival station. This was run by the

Queensland Grains Board. Each truck would pull up and a

prod test done. This is a long tube which is thrust into

the wheat load and a sample of wheat obtained is then

visually checked by staff. If it was not up to a Human

Consumption quality it would be rejected. If it were

rejected the loads value dropped from $220 a ton to

around $100 a ton as it was now only suitable for what

was called stock feed wheat. It was not allowed to be

sold for human consumption. The truck driver would be

told of the rejection and handed a slip of paper with a

local phone number and directions as to where he could

get $140.00 a ton just over the border in Boggabilla, New

South Wales. 17 Kilometers away.

 

~~

 

The farmer didn’t want to take the wheat back and would

at least get $40 more per ton than the going stock feed

rate. The staff doing the prod test would receive a

$20.00 kickback for every rejected load they referred on

to Boggabilla. A nice little earner on the side.

The driver would take his load to a Road House at

Boggabilla which just happened to have a state of the art

digital weighbridge round the back to weigh ‘things’. He

would weigh his load and then travel down the road until

he saw some signs. Then turn off and drop his load into a

pit. I spoke with the locals who commented on the strange

goings on at night with lights everywhere and noises

where the trucks had dropped their loads of rejected

wheat.

After a further day holed up in my motel room going over

and collating information I commenced surveillance of the

area at Boggabilla. Goondiwindi is not a large town and I

would have stuck out a bit. I had been out interviewing a

few people and I could see that it was going to get

decidedly unhealthy for me to remain at this motel for

more than one more night. The next night I and my

associate left one car in a road siding near Boggabilla

 

~~

 

and walked some 3 kilometers over open fields to observe

the goings on at the area trucks were dropping their

rejected wheat loads.

Around 11.00 pm a huge White light lit up the fields near

us. A train was arriving. We observed wheat being loaded

onto the train carriages by use of an auger.

Around 4.00 am the train moved off, a noisy generator

turned off and the lights went out. Three males

jumped into a pickup and speed off towards Bogabilla. I

had observed that one of these males had been armed

through my binoculars so I wasn’t game to approach them

at the time. We then waited for the morning light and I

walked around the facility taking pictures.

We booked out of the Motel that morning and moved to

Warwick down the road. Enquiries with the New South

Wales Railways indicated that these trains did not exist

and as I was now in a position to prove this, that

perhaps they were ‘probably’ put on as a favor at no

charge. Now there’s an anomaly if I ever heard one. Shit

these guys had connections. And to make things worse I

was able to identify the Mill in Sydney who was buying

this wheat and you guessed it used it for human

consumption in flour milling. It was obvious that

 

~~

 

thousands of tons were being moved and millions of

dollars were involved.

I flew back into Melbourne on the Friday and went via

home. My wife was at work and was not impressed with me

being away for the week and out of contact. I showered

and was off again to the Office. On this very same day in

the afternoon I rang my wife to tell her there had been

some ‘developments’ and I was booked on a flight back to

Brisbane that afternoon. My marriage of eighteen months

was now under strain.

I arrived at Melbourne Airport on this same Friday with a

nice new Brown leather brief case with that nice new

leather smell. This time I opened the brief case in the

men’s toilet in the Ansett lounge and took a photo of the

nice aussie bank notes next to a Herald Sun newspaper

with the date on it.

I was to drop this at the Gold Coast on the way to

Goondiwindi. Just an extra ‘job’.

I arrived at Brisbane and went to the car hire desk.

“Sorry Sir there has been an oversight. We can’t supply a

medium sized sedan as booked, but we can upgrade you”. I

responded with a nod of my head. “Would you like a Saab

 

~~

 

Turbo or a ZX 300 convertible?” I think I may have

started to drool. I hope it wasn’t obvious.

The hire car attendant stood there scratching her head as

I drove out of the car park in the ZX 300 in the light

rain. I had taken the removable roof sections off and

placed them in the boot. Well I was male and hey if

someone offers you a convertible. The roof has to come

off. As I sped off into the night at least the forward

motion stopped some of the light rain on my face.

I dutifully dropped my bag of cash to the Board member in

the heart of Surfers Paradise late in the evening and

then I was off again to Toowoomba. At least the rain had

stopped. Now the occasional bug got over the windshield

as I headed out into the country side which required the

use of sunglasses. As I approached Gatton which is just

out of Toowwomba I saw a Blue Light start flashing in the

distance. I immediately looked down and saw something

like a lot of speed on my speedo. I came to a screeching

halt in front of two of Queensland’s finest. One holding

a radar gun. As they approached and I removed my

sun glasses the Sergeant started to laugh. My lucky day.

We had only been working together less than 4 months ago

when I was in the Fraud Squad. He was in the Queensland

 

~~

 

Fraudies and came down to Melbourne where I assisted him

with an interview. Actually I think he was their Fraud

Squad, it was so small. He had just been promoted to

Sergeant and moved to Gatton. I didn’t make it to my

booked motel in Toowoomba that night as I had to buy a

few beers.

The following day slightly the worse for wear I attended

at the State Headquarters of the AWB at Toowoomba, but

made sure I parked my upgraded car way down the road.

Shit if I had to go on to Goondiwindi I’d stick out like

the proverbial. Luckily I was able to swap back to a

‘Poverty Pack’ sedan at Budget, Toowoomba. My inquiries

then continued in the Goondiwindi area for the next

two weeks.

I would come into the town during the day and stay at

least 100 kilometers out of the town each night. A number

of occasions under the stars. I kept a number of

associates informed of my movements and fax machines

became my main source of communication.

I commenced a friendship with an individual at the

Cabarlah Army Signals Station, just out of Toowoomba.

 

~~

 

This person spoke with me some month earlier in Melbourne

and I did not know at this time that she was an Officer

with the Army Signals Directorate.

This station intercepts hard communications data out of

Asia, the Middle East and Indonesia, including

downloading of raw American satellite data when these

satellites are in ‘blackout’. Blackout meaning only our

ground stations could receive from them as they were no

longer in range of our allies receiving stations. ‘You

would be shot’ on contact if found within this bases

boundaries she told me. The signs said that too. What the

hell did I want with a bunch of aerials? No thanks.

 

 

Chapter VI

Career Progression

~~

 

I had been away now two weeks on top of the turnaround on

the Friday I had arrived back in Melbourne. I had

communicated almost daily with my wife by phone, but I

think the writing was on the wall. I don’t blame her for

wanting to settle down. In retrospect she thought me

leaving the Police was a good thing, but now I was on a

plane constantly. I even blew Christmas Eve 1985 flying

in again from Brisbane burned out and arriving to an

empty home. Within the month my marriage would be over.

I had forwarded a report regarding the Goondiwindi

‘issue’ to members of the Board which had been duly

sanitized by the Australian Wheat Board legal department.

My report hit their desks at the end of January 1986. I

think the ‘issue’ died on the boardroom table.

Only days after this report was forwarded I had a number

of conversations with whom I considered to be my direct

superior. Whereupon it was indicated that my talent would

be wasted in my current role and that I would be asked to

move to the International Marketing Department of the

Board within coming months.

 

~~

 

I remember the day very clearly. Walking into the office

and seeing one of the Televisions on with footage of the

Challenger Space Shuttle exploding. January 28^th 1986.

I also remember the day well because the Head of Treasury

for the Wheat Board dropped by to see me with a special

request. As members of the treasury would be absent

overseas for close to a fortnight I was instructed in the

art of ‘smoothing’. My mission should I choose to accept

it was to take the international quoted price per ton for

wheat, which was telexed to the AWB everyday from the US

Markets and adjust it if required. In other words if

there were significant movements on the price I should

not pass on the correct figures to the local market or

various international markets, but indicate only half the

movement reported to me. I was even given instructions to

‘make something up’ as the market would invariably

stabilize. I felt important for a few seconds, a

manipulator of the world wheat market price. Then the

Police training kicked in with ‘hope they give me a cell

with a toilet’. It was like my list of jobs for the day

and seemed so unreal. One – brush your teeth. Two – check

the messages. Three – manipulate the world wheat price.

 

Within the week I was off again this time to South

Australia and was greeted by a ‘posse’ at the Australian

Wheat Board office in Adelaide. We all immediately

vacated the Head Office for an extended lunch out the

back and across the road. I think the State Manager had

to deliberate as to which of his staff was going to

accompany Merv on this ‘job’ in South Australia.

The staff member nominated did not make a good impression

on me at lunch as he was socking away as much alcohol as

the rest of us combined. The boy had to be an alcoholic.

The next day I and my hung over guide sped off North

of Adelaide in an underpowered hire car. The reason for

the trip was a ship load of wheat turning up in a

Japanese port with what appeared to be contaminated

wheat sent from Australia a month earlier. I was able to

track the ship back to Port Pirie in South Australia

where it had taken on its wheat cargo. I then tracked the

hold which was contaminated back to a train load of wheat

coming from a receival station in Orroroo South

Australia. I interviewed the staff at the receival

station who recall challenging a local wheat farmer over

 

~~

 

a pink cloud of dust when one of his truck loads was

off loaded at their station. It was pickled wheat which

is used for seeding and coated with a pink dye. They

didn’t bother to push it too much with him as he was a

local identity. I interviewed the farmer involved who

stated he didn’t think a few tons of pickled wheat would

cause such a problem. Well it did. The Japanese were able

to negotiate a $3 million reduction in the cost of the

wheat load on that ship even though it was only one hold

contaminated of several. This farmer just happened to be

the …… CENSORED TEMPORARILY (well there are issues

with telling the truth sometimes, weird huh) ……… in

Adelaide. The Wheat Board was basically ‘shagged’. It

would be one hell of a cost to bring the load back to

Australia so they were forced to discount and we got

screwed. Just one of the hazards of the wheat trade I

guess. I interviewed the farmer, sure. Did the Board have

the balls to give the farmer a bill. Well they

represented the farmers. I and my alcoholic off-sider

returned to Adelaide after two days. My biggest highlight

being my observations of a man that obviously would not

be fit and proper corroboration for my interview due to

his constant state of inebriation. The ‘CENSORED issue’

also had a quick death on the Boardroom table.

 

~~

 

Well I wasn’t expecting any of my reports to result in

Court action. I was the ‘shaker upper’ as required in my

informal job description which was different from my

formal job description of ‘take no prisoners’.

March arrived and was obviously touted as a good month to

visit Melbourne as I briefly considered operating a mini

bus coach service between the AWB office, Various

Melbourne Restaurants and Horne Street, Elsternwick.

Horne Street being quizzical due to the Daily Planet

massage parlour being located there.

At this time I commenced to review anonymous information

coming from an area just out of Bendigo in Victoria.

Individuals were attempting to buy wheat outside the AWB

For around $140 per ton. This really could only mean one

thing. The stock feed rate was around $110 at the time

and human consumption wheat via the AWB was around $220

If you are paying $140 you are obviously going to use it

for human consumption flour. But whom ever was offering

this sort of money had to know that the wheat had

previously been rejected by Victorian Grain Handling

receival stations. In turn as in the Goondiwindi case

 

~~

 

Australians would be eating flour based products sourced

from wheat supplies that were deemed not fit for human

consumption. Normally this meant the wheat was

contaminated in some way. My inquiries led me to the

Water Wheel Flour Mill just out of Bendigo. The head

office being in South Melbourne. I obtained a number of

statements from individuals in the Bendigo area.

Normally when a spot mill audit was done in the past the

mill was contacted three weeks before and a team from AWB

treasury would attend and find everything correct. I

attended unannounced with a warrant under the Victorian

Crimes Act and a small team of local AWB staff, including

field officers.

On my arrival six people jumped out of two cars at the

Flour Mill. I stationed one person at the Mill entrance

to record activity. Sending two more into the storage

areas, one to note activity in the Mill proper and I went

to the main office with an assistant and my warrant. It

was done with Military precision and I think put the wind

up the mill manager who came out fighting. Until I waived

the warrant at him and became forceful. I found 2,900

tons of wheat purchased from outside the AWB which is a

 

~~

 

major No No. Just this wheat which was not fit for human

consumption accounted for $100,000 in unpaid levies to

the AWB and yes there was more. 2,000 tons of flour in a

storage area which couldn’t exist because the wheat had

never been purchased from the AWB as required. As my team

audited all the Mill records over the day trucks turning

up at the mill with wheat deliveries were intercepted by

Mill staff and waived away. Panic had set in. This was

more than being caught with your pants down. The Mill

manager approached me several times whilst we looked at

records in his office with cheque book in hand. “How much

do we owe the Board?” was one query after he had made a

phone call to his head office. I replied that in due

course the AWB would deal with any issues after my report

was forwarded. My subsequent report reflected

quantifiable loses to the AWB in the hundreds of

thousands of dollars in relation to levies and several

million dollars in ill gotten gains to the Mill

proprietors. And the health risks, well not my mandate

really but I guess there would be an outcry if the public

knew. A message was relayed to me from Water Wheels’ head

office in Melbourne that I wasn’t playing fair. Well

‘hello’.

 

~~

 

The Water Wheel matter obviously put the wind up a few

other flour millers around the traps over the next few

weeks as news got around and I received some feedback.

A P.R spin was attached to this within the milling

industry, ‘AWB appears to get tough’. But this spin did

not get out to the public domain. The AWB State Offices

experienced a minor surge in compliance from small

millers as they applied for more wheat purchase permits

than normal.

“Have you thought anymore about a role in our

international marketing department?” the head of

marketing asked. “Well I have been busy and I think I’d

need a commerce degree wouldn’t I?” “No Merv you’d be

fine” he replied. I remember the conversation well. Like

crikey ex copper to international wheat marketing

manager. Was I that good or was it a buy off. Did they

recognize some abilities that I didn’t realize I had or

was there a bigger picture. They new my marriage had gone

South too. I asked to sleep on it. I remember thinking

about this opportunity for only a few days. Walking into

the office at the very end of April and hearing the

 

~~

 

office humming. Everyone was locking in forward wheat

contracts World wide as most of the Ukrainian wheat crop

was now ‘not for human consumption’. Chernobyl had

occurred overnight obliterating the ‘bread basket’ of

mother Russia.

The time was ripe for wheat sellers and spies.

I spent half of May in a funny little building near the

Duntroon Military College in Canberra. I had warn a gas

mask before in SOG training in the Police and even been

gassed with CN and CS teargas. But I had never warn an

NBC suite. A Nuclear Biological Containment suite. My new

training was a need to know basis and frankly I didn’t

have clue other than Chernobyl equals NBC suite. Russian

language coaching equals a Russian holiday. And finally

being a bit of a mathematician – Chernobyl and Russian

holiday equals the type of suntan I don’t need.

I completed my little course and returned to my schedule

of travel. Sydney, Brisbane, Toowoomba and now Carbalah

was in my weekly schedule. My last flight for the AWB was

from Melbourne to Toowoomba in late June. I purchased a

car in Toowoomba, visited my associate at Carbarlah and

disappeared for one year. Like a magic trick.

 

 

Chapter VII

Planes, Taxis, Motorcycles and Passports

~~

 

A little over a year had passed since that day I drove out

of Queensland from Carbalah.

The motorcycle speedometer read ‘245 kilometres per hour’

As I streaked across the Northern Territory highway into

Alice Springs in the cold early morning air. The rear wheel

of the GSXR causing the rear of the motorcycle to move

around as it tore at the roadway. I was freezing,

absolutely freezing. After two hours of averaging around

180 to 220 kilometres per hour I was too scared to stop. I

thought I might just freeze into a block of ice. The desert

may get warm, but gee does it get bloody cold overnight.

But I had a feeling that nothing could touch me because I

was in motion and in reality I didn’t even consider what a

mess I would make on the roadway if I came off.

I had fuel strapped to my back in two small containers, a

chocolate Mars Bar and a wad of $9,000 in cash in my jacket

pocket.

In the old fashioned term I was ‘bolting’. I had had enough

and was out of here. I guess pressure does things to people

in different ways. Only thing was I had given my handlers a

year of my life and no longer could discern good from evil.

I had given away my Police career for what.

 

~~

 

I pulled into a resort hotel with the desert bugs still

dying on my leather motorcycle jacket and booked a room

under a non deplume. I had a two minute shower and left my

room within 5 minutes. My helmet and jacket were left

behind in my room. I would not be returning, although I had

booked and paid for two days.

I walked a reasonable distance further into the Alice

Springs township and observed another tourist looking

establishment with the big tour buses outside in the car

park. I approached the booking office and obtained a room

for the night as my tour bus had ‘left without me’ and I

assured them I was being picked up tomorrow.

I then made my way to the shopping centre and purchased a

change of clothes and purchased a one way flight ticket to

Sydney for the following afternoon in cash.

Having never been a gambler it was an oddity to find myself

alone at a black jack table in Lassiter’s Casino as the

morning turned into afternoon. I wasn’t game to order a

drink though or I would have crashed. I was dog tired by

now. I didn’t know the first thing about black jack, I was

mentally screwed, just way too much going on in my head.

 

~~

 

I wasn’t even going to go back to the second hotel complex.

I had to stay awake, but like subjects I had tracked myself

I was out to buy myself time.

I sat at the gaming table taking instruction from the young

male croupier for 45 minutes and then apologized as I had

an ‘appointment’. I walked away with $1,400 of their money

too. He probably wanted me to stick around to win it back.

‘Shit Merv’, some low profile I thought. Perhaps this was

to me the culmination of living some sort of ‘Bond

Fantasy’, but on a budget. God at least I had my humour.

I walked about Alice into the late evening and at close to

midnight waived over a taxi. I paid the taxi driver $511 in

cash after five minutes of negotiation where I was no doubt

at a disadvantage. A dollar for every kilometer to Tenant

Creek. Tenant Creek is more or less half way to Darwin. The

driver had been a little taken aback but when he was given

the cash up front and began to smile. My story – I had to

make it to Darwin urgently.

We were off into the night, Merv sleeping in the back of

the taxi. Just out of Tenant Creek the taxi driver tapped

me on the shoulder. “Wake up mate, Police road block”. What

occurred next was one of those strange moments in life.

 

~~

 

The two Northern Territory Police stood there and in the

darkness one spoke. “Merv, is that you?” Even before I

answered this voice which started to sound familiar with

it’s nasally tone. He spoke again “When I heard it was you

I knew someone had it wrong”. The copper I now recognized

as a former Victoria Police member I had done Detective

Training School with in 1983 - Barney. Perhaps there was

such a thing as ‘brothers’ and ‘honour’. He had left the

Victoria Police and gone to the N.T Police in 1984. They

too poached good Vic coppers.

Short of me walking out of the Northern Territory over a

back fence I was going to hit a road block looking for me

and all the airports would already have my photo. Barney

and I had a short conversation, restricted to pleasantries

about our health and his new role in the N.T Police. The

conversation went no where near the reason for my

interception as Barney knew it was something ‘classified’.

The order given to the N.T Police in relation to me

requested interception but unusually gave no reason,

details or would you believe it, the name of the requesting

organization. So for ‘technical reasons’ Barney and I

 

~~

 

decided that this meeting had never taken place. The taxi

driver stood in the background wondering what the hell was

going on.

I bid my farewell and I and my taxi were off into the night

once more. We pulled up in the Tenant Creek township and I

thanked my taxi driver over a cup of coffee at the local

roadhouse.

After making some enquiries I then walked across the road

to a small hire car office booking a hire car for 2 days,

which I was going to drop off at Darwin. Darwin is the

capital of the Northern Territory and north of Tenant

Creek. I was off into the outback once more. Again that

feeling ‘as long as I moving no one can touch me’.

Just out of the township I came across a large road sign

indicating Darwin straight ahead and Mount Isa, Queensland

to the right. I took the right hand turn to Mount Isa.

Some thousand kilometers later I pulled into the Mount Isa

airport, parking my small hire car in a prominent position

in the car park.

“One way flight ticket to Sydney and connection to

Canberra” and I handed over the cash for a flight leaving

at around 2.00 pm into Sydney, to the booking attendant.

 

~~

 

I then booked a second ticket to Cairns with another

airline flying out some half hour earlier and again under

another non de plume. My whole idea was to leave many and

also confusing trails as to my direction of travel and

purpose. Cairns is probably a nice place to visit. Me I

walked into my Cairns Hotel room, threw what remained of my

cash bundle on the floor and crashed. I woke to the sound

of pouring rain through my open balcony door well into

the following day. Before showering I removed the folded

plastic bag taped to my left lower leg. I checked the two

rolls of film, developed photographs and three small micro

cassette tapes were still intact. After my shower I re

taped the bag less the developed photographs which had

caused a bit of irritation to my leg.

I then headed off. First stop food and second stop a neck

and back massage at a local masseuse recommended

downstairs. My neck and back was as stiff as. Two days of

motorcycles, sleeping in taxis, airplanes and stress had

taken it’s toll. I fell asleep on the massage table. When I

awoke the masseur said I had fallen asleep and he didn’t

wish to wake me, so he let me sleep there for an hour until

his next booking. The massage must have worked, at least I

felt like I had a neck again.

 

~~

 

I walked back across the road to the hotel in the tropical

rain. The sort of rain, that when one drop hits you, you

are saturated.

I slept well. In the early hours of the morning I was

awoken by a loud knock at the door. A ‘coppers knock’.

I spoke with the two Queensland Police Detectives at the

doorway. “Don’t tell me I’m having a noisy party”. “No”,

the older of the two replied. “We were asked to check on

you as we had a report of a suspicious male”. I indicated

to them that I was a former Police Detective myself and

laughed, at which they left. My life was getting worse than

any tale of fiction I had read. This visit was bull shit.

They had obviously been contacted to I.D me. No one knocks

on your door at 6.00 am in the morning for no reason. It

looked like I was going to get only two nights of decent

sleep. Now I could sympathize with the life of a fugitive.

It looked like I had taken a course of action that was now

hell bent on making me pay for my sins, whatever that may

be. I dressed and left via the hotel emergency stairwell. I

sat a little way down and across the street in the park

near the wharf with my takeaway coffee, sheltering from

 

~~

 

that damn tropical rain. 6.45 am one unmarked and two

marked Police vehicles arrived and sat at the entrance to

the hotel. A fourth unmarked car then pulled up and

shotguns were shared amongst the two Detectives I had

spoken to earlier and the two new ‘suites’. Within a few

minutes I had stepped onto a public bus heading into the

Southern Suburbs of Cairns.

I sat on the bus with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness

in my soul. Like a warm smothering feeling I had no control

over. ‘Where to now Merv, you idiot’. Some money, some crap

taped to my leg.

‘Oops’ I thought the damn developed photographs were still

in the wardrobe of the hotel suite. The consequences of my

actions were now into the run away train category. The boys

I guess would now be looking quizzically at those

Photographs. Photographs that showed Merv with some of his

‘team’ members including various uniformed American and

Australian service personnel. A few were poses with

advanced ‘man portable’ theatre weapons. In fact I had been

quite proud of the group shot with us all wearing our

berets. Looked like a regular action man. One glimpse of

those photos and I bet the boys would have been thinking of

the necessity for more ordinance if they caught up with me.

 

~~

 

A shot gun would have seemed very inadequate after a close

inspection of the photos.

The Queensland coppers helping the two suites would have

been more than amused. Trouble was that of my ‘team’ in the

photographs, one was being chemically restrained and was

confined to a non existent facility in the South Australian

desert just South of the Northern Territory border.

This is a nice way of saying that my superiors considered

he was ‘unstable’. And the other two of my little team.

Well they were both long dead. One by his own hand.

Me, as sure as hell wasn’t going to hang around to see what

might happen to me. At least I was able to kind of borrow a

motorcycle. Well I had no intention to ‘permanently

deprive’. I should have stayed in the damn Police Force or

at worst the damn Wheat Board.

I stopped thinking and just watched the tropical rain pour

down my bus window. No thoughts, no feelings, no body home.

After the bus dropped me off I walked over 20 kilometers

thankfully with no rain, but if it’s not raining you start

sweating. I then hitchhiked and bused my way down the East

Coast of Australia over the next few weeks. I flew out of

Australia a month later from Melbourne bound for

 

~~

 

New Zealand. I did not require a passport leaving as I was

a New Zealand citizen returning to NZ and I declared this

and purchased my flight ticket 20 minutes before departure.

I am a naturalized Australian. Having gone through the

naturalization ceremony in 1980. I knew that if I was on

PASS – Passenger Alert Security System, the checking

required and the absence of any formal document such as a

warrant for me should mean I would not be intercepted

leaving the country. I knew this because I knew the system

from hunting people down myself. I would be landing in New

Zealand before the electronics of the system rang the

bells. Great for intercepting crooks, but not for broken

down spooks. They would know, but I know that they would

prefer to watch at this time. I would have done the same.

I got a quizzical look going through Australian Customs and

the New Zealand Customs Service tapped me up on the

computer and let me through. A month passed whilst I had a

short reunion with my father in Christchurch. We went

fishing in his new boat and had a few good drinks together,

even though I reckon I was damaged goods mentally. Give him

his due he wasn’t asking too many questions of me. A month

passed and I was off again. I did not say goodbye to my

 

~~

father. Off again US bound via Hawaii with my new New

Zealand passport. And a package of travelers cheques.

My newly developed and copied photographs and audio tapes I

Left behind for safe keeping.

 

 

 

 

 

Things get pretty serious from now on so stay tuned.

REMEMBER that phrase "Truth can be stranger than fiction". 

And thanks for reading this so far. It is complete, with all the

action, come fallout  in the U.S worth the wait.  

 

Send me an email if you have any comments.

 

 

A footnote is that the AWB Cole Commission contacted me some 12 months ago, followed by a bunch of journalists. I also contacted a few journo's but figured I might just become a 20 second sound grab and be used as entertainment in the opening soap opera. I wrote this damn book, thing,  come report 10 years ago as kind of a therapy and shelved it for fear of (..to tell the truth I don't know what). But some very odd things have happened to me in the past 18 months so I figure that I might as well dust of that project and float it out there. It is complete and in a short time you will be able to experience the full 'down load'.  In the coming months you will see why hanging on to the evidence can be so valuable in focusing peoples attention. 

 

Hey, and thanks.

 

1st August 2008