November 2003: Megan tried desperately not to let anxiety dampen the excitement of her first overseas trip. She was 13 now. Other kids flew around the world. She could do it and not act nervous. Besides they were nearly there and she would be met by her parents. The thrill welled up in her. Now that she was grown she could fly from Wellington to Bangkok any time. She had parents; it was just that they worked overseas.
In the airport she followed the crowds. The baggage handling was just like domestic flights. She could do this. She waited for her matched leather case and backpack and smiled smugly at some of the battered packs that were lifted off the belt around her. She was someone. She had parents and nice luggage and travelled overseas to see them. Some of the other passengers were hugging the people who had come to meet them. Megan would do that soon. Her parents would push through the crowd eager to make up for the five years they had been in Thailand without her. The crowds began to thin and then fill out again as more planes arrived. Megan found a corner seat and pressed back into it, fighting tears and humiliation. But then she saw him. The man rushing across the airport lounge was her dad.
"Hello Megs. God what was that stupid woman thinking, putting you on a plane here. It's not as if we don't pay her a fortune. Don't worry Meg, there's a boarding school that has agreed to take you tonight and we'll have you back home at latest the day after tomorrow."
For years after, Megan struggled to understand why she answered, "Thank you Daddy."
November 2008: Her working holiday in Sydney was fun, but tonight Megan was no longer enjoying herself. The crowd she had been with had drifted away, the band had been too loud for too long and the guy she had been dancing with - Andrew she thought he had said his name was - was deteriorating into a drunken slob. How did she never fail to pick the no-hopers? He followed her towards her table, his hand sliding up and down her back and across her backside. When the other hand began to caress a breast, Megan had had enough. She turned suddenly to take him by surprise and pushed him firmly away. He staggered drunkenly back.
Across the room a tall man pushed his way through the crowd. He placed a firm hand on Andrew's shoulder.
"Time to go home, sir, the lady's with me."
That was news to Megan and Andrew, who peered blearily up at the newcomer.
"Leave." The ice in the voice cut through into even Andrew's befuddled brain. He set off for the door.
"I'm hungry Miss Ambrel, and I hope you are too as I would consider it a pleasure to offer a complimentary meal from the hotel." Megan realised that she really was hungry and this new man was good looking, sober and polite and wore a name badge identifying him as Hugh Roland, manager. The fact that he knew her name was puzzling but when she asked he told her that it was his job to know everything, and she did after all work for the hotel complex even if it was only selling flowers. Megan accepted the free meal.
A Monday in March
Megan was alone again. Megan understood being alone, that was how she had lived her life. There had always been people of course. Care givers, teachers, school friends, groping boys for whom the ultimate prize was Megan Ambrel. If the stories were to be believed she had lost her virginity at least a hundred times before she was fifteen. Actually she hung on to it until a drunken party when she was seventeen, and then she had lost it to a slightly goofy shy boy who didn't boast. Megan surprised herself by thinking of him with affection and wondering where he was now. And then of course there had been Hugh. And Megan ruefully acknowledged to herself that he seemed to be gone as well.
She ran a brush once more through her sparkling long blonde hair. She was ready for the world. She straightened her tasteful, discrete and very expensive necklace. It wasn't crooked, but her life was a little straighter for the effort. She resisted the urge to linger any longer in front of the mirror. The world outside needed her. This was just another chapter of her life. She wasn't alone. She was needed and valued. There were currently fifty-five paying guests to care for, a staff who depended on her, and there was her friend and neighbour Eileen Hammond.
Outside, the sound of the sea and a crying seagull welcomed her. The sun had no warmth yet but the day had promise. Megan walked the short distance to the low part of the fence and glanced around for early walkers or guests, but there were none so she kicked two long and graceful legs up and over to drop into the next back yard.
She chuckled impishly to herself. The illicit thrill of being ungraceful while in charge of a multi-million dollar beach accommodation lodge easily equalled a night on the town. Life was good. She'd had difficult times before and always came out a little stronger than before. She would do that now.
Eileen Hammond would be home at this time of the morning, and at most other times too, Megan thought a little sadly. Eileen was slower than she had been as headmistress to over a thousand teenage girls, but she still had the power in her personality and the awareness of mind to be the woman who had controlled a staff of fifty as well as the students.
Megan pushed open the back door and grinned as she remembered Eileen's comment, "Who needs to lock a door when she lives next to the country's leading gangsters?" At the time Megan had been hurt and shocked but now she could laugh, if only a little sadly.
"Well just look at you. The lone and lovely business woman. Are you sure you'll be safe with me for a crack of dawn date over a cup of coffee?" Eileen chuckled.
"Beware the septuagenarian gay school ma'am," Megan laughed back. "Anyway. I just happen to have a reliable loving husband who has neglected to remember he has me for a little while, and as a punishment I am going out with an alternate date."
Eileen was too fond of Megan to take the raillery any further. But a man who says he cares deeply but may not be able to return for a long time, if at all, and then is unheard from for weeks did not suggest to her a loving future.
The two women took the more sedate route out to the road and into the inviting, neat drive leading to the office, restaurant and manager's accommodation at the Moho. Megan and Hugh had originally affectionately called it the MoHo because they couldn't decide whether it was really a Motel or Hotel. The name stuck, and when in September of 2017 the grand new Kapiti Coast Accommodation opened to general acclaim and awe, its registered name was the Moho.
Angela, arriving early at work as usual met the other two women. Greetings were exchanged, promises to get right on to preparing rooms and cabins for new guests were made, and most importantly there was an undertaking to find Tony and stir him into life for early breakfasts. Megan knew that Angela's life had become the Moho. Its successes were Angela's successes and she took any failure as a personal shortcoming. Megan wished she had more like Angela.
As Megan organised the day ahead, Eileen watched her friend for signs of the feelings she knew must be there, and although she was a master of reading the unsaid, she saw only an occasional glimpse that Megan felt her life was no longer an unbroken stream of playful adventures to be enjoyed and wallowed in.
"First person in makes the coffee," Megan called to Eileen, "this is not a bloody restaurant you know," and then clutching her forehead in mock dismay added, "damn, I keep forgetting. It is a restaurant." But Eileen was already heading for the coffee maker, grimly aware that the Moho could run perfectly well without her, but also aware that Megan was quite bright enough to see that a bored old former administrator needed work. Eileen was being organised into busy-work just as surely as she herself had struggled to give thousands of young listless girls activities to keep them involved in life. Although the coffee would be made whoever did it, and she wouldn't presume to touch any real catering in a place like this, what she could do was keep an eye on her friend, and be there for her if ever she was needed.
A young man scurried into the restaurant and faltered when he saw Megan there. "Tony, the clock. What time is this?" Megan called.
"Twenty to seven. Look I'd love to stay to chat but you see I'm a bit late and you have no idea what a dragon my boss is."
Megan and Eileen exchanged a grin as the irrepressible Tony disappeared into the kitchen.
Mac Lanell was having an early start to his day. A clandestine meeting with two of the top bank officials in New Zealand and some sort of police minder in an out of the way coffee shop was not the way he had come to do business. Although he operated slightly beyond the fringe of the completely polite side of the IT banking industry, these days he expected to be able to go to the manager's office to get his assignments. But the 7am appointment was made by a bank underling who assured him it would be worth his while. Several banks, and the police would be depending on him. Well, he owed his present success to at least one of those banks and although he was tempted to tell them to come to him if it was that important, he was straightening the tie he seldom wore and feeling uncharacteristically apprehensive.
Mac was army at heart. He had lived the SAS life as a young man until he found a niche in computer security. The thrill of searching and probing amongst unknown software and concealed files had caught him the way physical attack and jumping from planes had previously appealed to him. Once the computer bug had him in its grip he had moved into intelligence and code cracking. By the time he was 28 he had pined for the riches that his newly discovered skills opened to him and he rejoined civilian life and a bank. Within a month the manager had him in his office deploring his methods. Mac tried to explain that it was much quicker to check out a customer's credentials by simply looking at all their personal files, both up-front and secret, but the bank was adamant that they had to have a veneer of legality over their security department. There was a solution, and management was quick to point it out. As a private investigator he could charge more and the bank was not responsible for any dubious techniques. And so with generous start-up money from his former employer, Mac set up shop doing the same job he had done the week before for twice the money.
And now, rather too early to be comfortable, he gave his tie one last jerk and started for the door.
Eileen peered at Megan through her steaming coffee and waited. Megan, preoccupied with the food orders looked up and caught her eye and smiled at the steady look.
"What?"
"What yourself, Meg. It's time you learned to talk about your private life, and if not to me then who?"
"I have nuthin' to say miss. It was her what dun it."
Eileen, obliged by smiling softly but reached across the table and rested her hand lightly on Megan's. "You're a busy woman Meg. You're hurting and you're a little afraid. And you're rather alone. I may not be able to do much, but I'm here and I listen. Spill it."
"Nuthin' new miss. Lost me hubby. That's all." Her voice faded as she continued to meet Eileen's now steely gaze.
"Megs, the reminiscences of old busybodies are painful to the senses but you remind me of a brat of almost 30 years ago. I had to listen for almost an hour while she assured me there was nothing to tell, but that was nothing to the almost three hours I had to endure once she started talking, while she wept and sobbed and poured out a tale of crime, immorality and violence that was her daily life at home. Save me the first hour. Just tell me how you feel."
Megan smiled back at her. This was the older woman she had not had in her life. There was a strong bond of caring and love here but still the words did not easily come.
Eileen understood that under the bravado this would not be an easy conversation for Megan. Megan did not do failure well, and although the details in Eileen's mind were sketchy she suspected that the odd occasional meetings that constituted the Roland marriage were drawing to a close. Megan had let slip enough times that if Hugh were any more invisible, then he might as well not be there at all. And Eileen had the feeling that although Megan would fight for her marriage, she would not be much dismayed by the prospect of losing Hugh.
"Okay, I met him, we set up shop together, had a good time, decided that the Australian operation was going well and in good hands so we came here. One day he said he might not be back for a long time. I said I'd give him three weeks." Megan realised with dismay that her resentment was real and uncontrollably bubbling up inside her. To prevent it becoming self pity it became temper - at herself, at Eileen and at the world. "All three of us know I was lying. I'll give him forever, and here I am running a large business with my husband and financial backer gone, and you know all this and I have to get to work." She stood suddenly attempting to escape into work.
"Now you're angry. That's an emotion that's good to start with."
Megan turned sharply back towards Eileen. "Oh, I've had plenty of emotions. That wasn't the start."
"You expressed it to me. That's important."
Megan dropped back into her seat. "So I get angry with the only friend I have left in the world. That will make things better?"
"Oh Megan, remember who you're talking to. How many good friends do you think I made from youngsters who had screamed abuse at me hours before? You and I didn't get off to such a good start if you remember."
"I know that, but honestly I can't take it out on you, and anyway if I ever admit I'm frightened and alone, I'm defeated. As things are I'll find a way through."
"You just did admit you're frightened and alone, and you're fighting back. But I need to know for myself, can you make ends meet?"
Megan nodded unconvincingly. "The income meets the debts and daily expenses, but Hugh and I had agreed we'd need more money invested over the next two or three years to get properly afloat. We mortgaged to the hilt and the banks won't risk more. As soon as I meet extra expenses I run the risk of getting behind. And if I can't run as I am then there is no way back from running with increased debt." Megan was glad to be talking about real problems. She didn't know if she could win, but this at least was a battle she could fight.
Eileen noted the calm good sense of her analysis. "How much, do you need for the extra debt?"
Megan shrugged. Her eyes had taken a distant look as she worked again over invisible and uncertain numbers. "That's the point. It's emergencies - contingency money. Hugh has plenty of backing so we didn't borrow for extras, we just worked to get afloat." She chuckled at the allusion. "And now without the extra, as soon I have a setback, for example if we have storm damage or low guest numbers - we sink - slowly and gracefully."
Megan at last caught the casual tone and saw its significance. "Oh no you don't. I know your type. You catch a girl when she's down and strapped for cash and take a controlling share for a pittance, foreclose the mortgage and put her out in the street." Her laughing eyes gazed into Eileen's steady ones.
Eileen slowly relaxed into a smile. Across a generation - almost two - she learned anew that she loved this feisty, beautiful and rather alarming young woman, and warmed to see her relax as she talked of her problems. "That was very bad taste, Megan."
"Yes, wasn't it? A minimum of $50,000 a year for three years. Much too much for you so forget it."
Eileen thought a little smugly of her investments, but said no more.
Mac had no trouble finding the group in the empty room and greeted the two bankers he knew. The third man was a detective from the fraud squad. Mac's unasked question was answered by Scott Patterson, CEO, of All Australasian. The meeting was a meeting of amnesiacs who would not be able to recall what he did or how, and what his instructions were to be. Mac accepted that with a nod.
A short time before, Mac had been asked to investigate the financial dealings of a Hugh Roland. Mr Roland had brought his New Zealand born wife back from Australia and proceeded to buy accommodation. Mac's job was superficial, given the amounts of money, but he was asked to confirm that the accounts were valid and the Australian property was legitimate. They were, and the job was done inside half a day. Now there were problems.
Mac gazed at Scott in amazement. "He mortgaged for a hotel that he didn't own by using a non-existent lawyer?"
"Twice," said Scott. "And the third one was the standard scam of over inflating the price; only that time he invented a licensed valuer to give the valuation. As you recall we did a standard check on him at the time. And for that matter we did a non-standard check using you because the amounts were so large, but we were looking in the wrong place. His existing accounts and properties were fine. It was the properties he was buying that were a fraud. Yes, you don't need to remind us that you warned us that something was not quite right and we should extend the investigation."
Mac was grateful that he didn't need to blow his own trumpet, or defend his recommendations.
"So we can't call the funds in, because there is nothing to back them. Not in New Zealand anyway, and the Australian branches are not going to get money from what for them is a worthy customer, so what we need is to look deeper still. Why did a rich man do it? Where is the money for the property he didn't buy? Where does the wife fit in? Most ominously of all, what does he owe to Mr Sum?"
The name hung heavily over the table for a time. Mac knew the significance of Mr Sum. He was, quite simply, the very organised crime part of the otherwise worthy Asian Bank of Won Sum. Legitimate customers banked with Won Sum and nefarious activities went under Mr Sum's name.
"Oh, come on gentlemen, he's not in New Zealand. And it's all over for him in Australia," said Mac attempting to dismiss this as paranoia.
"We hope that remains true, but someone with fairly good knowledge of what our Hugh is up to approached a bank manager in Napier and suggested that if the bank was successful in recovering money from him that Mr Sum would not be pleased and had first call on the funds. Fortunately our small branch manager had no idea what he was talking about and got in touch with Head Office and gave us a detailed run down of what was claimed to be going on just as we were beginning to learn of it ourselves."
Mac was grateful that a waitress handed him the cup of early morning coffee he craved, so that he could sit back and contemplate what he was hearing. An Australian entrepreneur had come to the country, borrowed large amounts of money for three hotels that he could never own and had not paid for and then got more money from one of Asia's most alarming bankers. The price of defaulting on Mr Sum's loans was often death. The price of outright fraud was something not to think about. The visit in Napier however didn't ring true. Mr Sum does not send minor players to explain to minor bank managers his difficulties. Mr Sum worked either in the CEO's office or in back alleys.
The waitress left and the detective leant forward and came bluntly to the point. "There are several aspects of this that suit your skills. You can operate closer to the edge of the law than we can. You have computer and interrogative skills, and I gather you are not too hampered with the privacy laws." He smiled gently. "With the backing of the banks, who have a huge investment here, you will have more resource than we can initially throw at this until the nature of the crime is clearer. But most of all we want someone with your background who can observe, and if necessary, protect the wife." He sat back and added into the momentary quiet, "I gather she's worth observing."
Mac raised his eyebrows in question and waited.
"She's a looker, but that's beside the point. She is probably in great danger. Hugh is clever and has almost certainly gone to ground. The wife runs a hotel up the coast a bit and is very visible. Regardless of whether she is involved herself, or not, the boys from Sum's will be interested in her and she makes a handy hostage. If Sum is not after her, then we want to know why. Even if she is safe and uninvolved, which doesn't seem very likely, we want Hugh, and he is bound to try to make contact with her. If nothing else, keep her alive. These people are not nice."
A contemplative silence settled over the group.
Mac at last smiled broadly. "Am I understanding correctly that you are asking me to shift my office to a holiday resort at your expense so that I can observe a beautiful woman? Gentlemen, I think in the interests of public duty, respect for the law, and the protection of the delicate fairer sex, I accept."
Mac loved New Zealand himself, but it didn't seem a big enough fish for people like this. "Why did they come to New Zealand when they have all that in Oz?"
Mac received the formal instructions and payments he needed. The other men knew that despite the light hearted way he prepared to go to see Mrs Roland and her beach side accommodation, that there was no need to remind Mac that this was no holiday.
Wendy smiled happily up from her desk. "At last we have removed the deadwood from the office."
Mac and Wendy, shared an unspoken moment of celebration. Lanell Financial Investigations had hit the big-time. This was not some petty suburban muddle, such as they had dealt with in the past. This was big money involving some very angry and important bankers.