Dark City Blue: A Tom Bishop Rampage

by Luke Preston

‘Just make sure it’s worth it,’ Bishop said.

  They heard the roar of engines first. Then saw the vehicles bounce up the gutter and the headlights pour through the barred windows, blinding them.

  ‘It’s Rayburn,’ Bishop said inching away from the window.

  ‘How did they find us?’

  Bishop tilted his head toward Patterson and clenched his fists.

  ‘I was with you the whole time,’ he said.

  Then it dawned on them both: Arden.

  She took a step back and knocked into the wall. ‘I’m sorry. They said they were going to hurt Levi. I didn’t know what to do.’

  The colour drained from Patterson’s face. ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘I only gave them this location, I swear.’

  ‘Where’s your son?’ Bishop asked.

  Arden’s gaze shifted to Patterson. ‘He’s at your place, with Joyce.’

  Patterson got on the telephone, called his wife. Everybody was safe. He told her to get out of the house as fast as possible and check into a hotel.

  As he hung up, Rayburn’s stocky figure emerged from behind the headlights. His palms aimed to the sky, he appeared unarmed. ‘Boys, boys, we’re just all being a bit bloody silly right now. How about you toss out that recording, Bishop, and we can all go home. No one needs to get hurt here tonight.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’ Arden said hopefully.

  Bishop and Patterson looked at each other and at the same time said, ‘No.’

  ‘We can call for backup,’ Arden said.

  ‘Who’s there to call?’ Bishop said. ‘I’ll keep him talking.’ He pointed to Patterson. ‘Upload the interview to the server.’

  Patterson pulled the card from the video camera, pushed it into the laptop and got started. ‘This is going to take a while to upload.’

  ‘Wudda you say?’ Rayburn yelled. ‘Sound like a plan or what?’

  ‘I don’t know if I’m too keen on that, Rayburn,’ Bishop yelled from behind the barred window. ‘It sounds like a pretty shitty deal to me.’

  ‘It is.’ Rayburn laughed. His body broke up the beams of the headlight as he paced the front yard. ‘What other choice do you have?’

  Bishop pointed to the computer. ‘How long has that thing got to go?’

  ‘It’s only at thirty per cent.’ Patterson said.

  ‘You can’t stay in there forever,’ Rayburn called.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Bishop said. ‘A couple of milk crates could really tie the room together.’ He looked to Patterson for an update.

  ‘Forty per cent.’

  'Shit.'

  ‘We’ve got that young woman’s little boy,’ Rayburn yelled.

  Terror crossed Arden’s face. ‘He doesn’t,’ Bishop whispered to her before yelling out to Rayburn. ‘That’s bullshit and you know it.’

  Rayburn shrugged. ‘We could always go get him.’

  ‘If you could’ve, you would’ve.’

  Rayburn shrugged. ‘You know, if you don't come out, we're going to come in. We’re going to come in.’ He stepped out of the way and Cooper and Warren approached the house holding a battering ram between them.

  ‘Shit,’ Bishop said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’re coming in. Where’s the upload at?’

  Patterson limped back from the table. ‘Sixty-five per cent. We’re looking at five minutes? Maybe?’

  ‘Then that’s how long we need to stall them. Someone give me a weapon.’ Patterson and Arden blank faced him. ‘Give me a weapon.’

  ‘I’ve only got one,’ Patterson said.

  ‘And you're not getting mine.’

  Bishop rubbed his face. ‘Alright, none of this shooting in the leg shit. You two shoot to kill?’

  Their training kicked in, they pulled their weapons, stood off centre to the front door and readied themselves to blast away anything that came through it.

  Silence in the street and in the house. Then came the battering ram on the front door. It slammed in with an awful thump. The house shuddered. Dust and plaster fell from the ceiling. The ram struck again. More dust and more plaster and still the door wouldn’t give. After a couple of more cracks, Cooper and Warren gave up and tossed the ram on the front lawn, retreating back behind the headlights.

  ‘What happened?’ Arden asked.

  Patterson lowered his weapon and smiled to Bishop. ‘We seized this house from a drug dealer.’

  ‘So?’

  Bishop couldn’t help laughing. ‘He had the doors reinforced to protect himself from police raids.’

  Patterson holstered his service weapon. ‘It worked.’

  ‘So we’re safe?’ Arden said.

  The engine of one of Rayburn’s vehicles cranked up. An SUV. It accelerated toward the house. Hit the brakes. Warren climbed out and pulled the cable from the front bumper, wrapped it around the grate of the front door and jumped back into the SUV.

  Bishop took a step back from the window. ‘This could be a problem.’

  Warren floored the SUV. Tyres spat dirt at the front of the house. The beast catapulted over the nature strip and halfway across the street, the tension on the cable tightened, the front wheels lurched up and pulled at the front of the house.

  Everything inside shook. The plaster cracked. The beams loosened.

  ‘He’s going to tear the whole place down,’ Patterson said.

  ‘Where’s the upload at?’ Bishop asked.

  Patterson wiped dust off the screen. ‘Ninety-three per cent.’

  Warren floored the SUV. It sped toward the house. Stopped inches from the front door. Changed gears. Ate up dirt again in reverse. Lurched and yanked at the front of the house.

  The meth dealer hadn’t reinforced the door on the cheap. It was connected to the whole front wall, which Warren and the SUV were close to tearing off the house.

  ‘Ninety-six per cent.’ Patterson yelled.

  Warren changed gears and sped the SUV up to the front of the house. Hit the brakes and stopped a few feet from the front of the house. The wall was on the verge of collapse and could have possibly been pulled down by hand but Warren was going to take it with force.

  Bishop pointed to the laptop. ‘Let that run. If we’re lucky, it’ll upload before Rayburn finds it.’ He thumbed back at the wall. ‘As soon as this mongrel goes down I want you two to run as fast as you can and don’t stop.’

  Arden nodded. Bishop looked to Patterson, he rubbed his knee with a look of concern on his face. ‘I don’t run so fast, mate.’

  ‘I’ll run with you,’ Bishop said.

  Warren floored the SUV and the wall came down.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The house was exposed like some autopsy photograph with its internal parts laid out for the whole world to see. The kitchen had been torn in half and with the mains busted, water sprayed into the yard.

  Bishop wiped the dust out of his eyes in time to see Arden disappear over the neighbour's fence and into the darkness. Part of the roof had fallen on Patterson. Bishop pulled him off the floor; he stumbled to his feet, took one look at the smashed laptop in his hand and threw it at the wall. ‘Shit.’

  Rayburn emerged from behind the glare of the headlights, shotgun in hand. Warren and Cooper followed him out, toting their own shotguns. They stepped over the rubble as they crossed the yard and both Bishop and Patterson knew that running would only get them shot in the back.

  Rayburn looked around at the mess at his feet. ‘Who would have thought the little fucker had the foresight to reinforce the whole bloody house.’ He shot a look over Bishop’s shoulder. ‘Where’s the girl?’

  Bishop shrugged.

  ‘She’ll turn up. Now,’ he said in a cooler tone. ‘Are you going to give me your recording or am I going to have to put a bullet in you?’

  Bishop coughed dust. Dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the tape recorder he used to capture Con Taylor’s confession. He held it tight in his hand.

  ‘Come on,’ Raybu
rn said. ‘Give it up.’

  Bishop tossed him the recording and after listening to it for a couple of seconds, Rayburn destroyed the evidence under the heel of his boot.

  Patterson slumped his shoulders, closed his eyes and took a breath. All the scenarios of how the night could end ran through his mind and none of them looked bright.

  Rayburn lowered the shotgun. ‘Okay fellas,’ he said. ‘It’s time to—’

  His voice was cut short by the single bleep of a patrol car’s siren. The prowler cruised at a cautious five kilometres an hour toward the torn-down house at the end of the street.

  Rayburn looked over his shoulder at Bishop and Patterson. ‘I won’t hesitate putting a bullet in these two fuckers if one of you mouths off. Now hold up your badges, let them know there’s nothing to fear.’

  Bishop unclipped his badge from his belt and held it high along with the others. The patrol came to a stop. A muscle-bound arm hung out of the open window and halfway down the door. It belonged to Senior Sergeant Graham, a uniform out of the Broadmeadows station. His partner, Bate, was behind the wheel.

  Senior Sergeant Graham nodded to the group of cops in front of him. ‘We got a call about some noise, but, Jesus,’ he motioned to what was left behind them, ‘what the hell happened?’

  Rayburn leant down to the open window and bullshitted the sergeant with some story about chasing up a lead in the Armaguard robbery.

  The sergeant went for his radio. ‘I’ll call for backup, get this area locked off for you guys.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Rayburn said. ‘We’ve already called. Major Crimes has got this one. All the fun and games are all over with anyway.’

  The sergeant thought about it for a moment before nodding. ‘If you change your mind, just get on the blower.’

  The patrol was about to pull away from the kerb when Bishop stepped into the street, blocking its way. ‘Whoa, hold on.’ he said. ‘You boys don’t mind if Lieutenant Patterson and I hitch a ride back to the station back with you?’

  Rayburn gripped his shotgun and inched forward with his foot to raise it, but stopped short when he noticed where Bishop was staring. Directly into the camera on the dashboard of the patrol car. Through a fibre optic cable, Bishop’s image was being carried to a router in the boot and relayed back to the Broadmeadows police station and captured.

  ‘Sure thing,’ Graham said. ‘Climb in.’

  Bishop smiled. ‘I guess we’ll see you guys later.’

  ‘It may be sooner than you think,’ Rayburn said.

  Bishop and Patterson climbed in the back of the patrol and they headed down the street. The uniforms made small talk and Bishop played along, but every once in a while when he looked out the rear windscreen, he saw a pair of headlights following them and knew that all this little trip had done was buy them some time.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The uniforms dropped them off at the front door of the Broadmeadows police station but they didn’t go in. Rayburn’s headlights flickered in the distance but grew stronger as they covered ground.

  ‘Let’s get the hell out of here,’ Bishop said, stepping off over the road and into the sprawling car park of the local shopping mall. Except for the odd vehicle that had broken down or been dumped, the place was empty.

  The muscles in Patterson’s knee didn’t respond to the workout he was putting it through and he struggled to keep up. A couple of times he fell and had to be pulled to his feet by Bishop, only to fall again a few steps later.

  ‘Do you need a hand?’

  ‘No.’

  He watched Patterson struggle to his feet once more and when he regained his balance, Bishop wrapped an arm around Patterson’s shoulders only to be pushed away.

  ‘I can do it.’

  They heard a vehicle screech to a stop and looked over their shoulders to the police station across the car park and over the road. The SUV had pulled up with Rayburn and his crew pushing through the doors.

  Bishop looked to Patterson. ‘You need to be strong. Just for a little while longer.’ He held out his hand. ‘Take it.’

  Patterson nodded. Bishop put his arm around him and they made the shuffle across the car park. It was a slow struggle and they were making progress until they reached the row of closed shops that surrounded the mall and Patterson tripped, taking them both to the concrete.

  Patterson tried to catch his breath. ‘I’m sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘This bloody leg.’

  ‘Hey!’ Warren yelled, his voice cutting through the car park. He was standing by the SUV with Rayburn and his whole crew, his finger aimed at Bishop and Patterson. ‘They’re over there.’

  The three of them piled into the SUV, its engine roared to life and tyres squealed on the asphalt.

  Bishop pulled at Patterson. ‘Get up.’

  The SUV barrelled over an embankment, its high beams coming at them.

  ‘We won’t make it,’ Patterson said. ‘But you will. Find out who Justice is and bury him.’ Patterson wrapped his fingers around his service weapon. ‘I’ll hold them off for a few minutes.’

  ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Go.’

  The SUV gunned through the car park. It was almost on them.

  Bishop took a step back. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘GO.’

  The weapon felt like a brick his hand but Patterson managed to level it up at the SUV. He looked to Bishop. ‘If you die here, they get away with it. Run!’

  Bishop turned on his heels.

  He heard six quick shots and never looked back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three months ago

  Tom Bishop was a hero. That’s what they told him and, for a while, he even tried to believe it.

  The day was about pride and honour. Dress blues, white gloves and polished shoes; Bishop hadn’t worn his since he left plainclothes, but they still fitted. He peered through the crowd at Alice sitting in the third row, camera in hand, a smile on her face.

  He was tired, beat and two words played over and over in his head:

  Chloe. Justice.

  It had been this way for the last month. Those two words stole his appetite, his attention, forced their way into his conscience and weren’t leaving until they found peace. He hadn’t slept for more than a few hours a night in the past couple of weeks, and around the time the insomnia started, so did the sweating. It soaked through his clothes and his sheets. To the rest of the world, Chloe Richards was just another runaway prostitute lost to the streets. But she’d died for a reason, and not knowing what that was ate away at him. Why her? Why kill that one girl in a building full of girls? What did she know? Who was Justice?

  To Bishop, she held the answer to all these questions and to his peace of mind.

  He stood shoulder to shoulder with the other officers receiving commendations. When the ceremony started, Commissioner Mackler stepped to the podium and grinned a grin that matched the headshot they had all seen on television and in the department newsletters. Her words pulled Bishop out of himself. ‘Integrity. Bravery. Honesty. Compassion. These are the attributes every police officer aspires to, and that these officers exemplify. The world is full of violence. It’s full of doubt and it’s full of pain. But it doesn’t have to be that way. These men are the future of the department and they will make a difference.’

  *

  As far as police parties go, it wasn’t a bad effort. Streamers hung from the walls of the gym, plastic chairs littered the floor, and tables of party food were being swarmed over by hungry cops who had gotten into the habit of inhaling meals before being radioed out on a call.

  Bishop navigated the crowd, greeting people he knew as he passed. Alice stuck close by his side and he enjoyed showing her off to his colleagues; it embarrassed her, but he didn’t care.

  David Bowie blared from the dated speakers as children danced by the front of the stage. Bishop found himself talking with a couple of murder dicks about boxing, but couldn’t stop his mind from poring over the
events of the night which had put that medal on his chest.

  ‘Have a look who I found.’

  Bishop turned. Alice was holding Pat Wilson’s hand. He gave Bishop a hug. ‘You did good kid, I mean that.’

  ‘Have a look what Uncle Pat gave me.’ Alice held out her arm, a silver bracelet around her tiny wrist. ‘You like it?’

  ‘It’s nice,’ Bishop said. He turned to Wilson. ‘You’ll spoil her.’

  ‘Why not? She’ll have her own soon and then who’ll spoil her?’

  ‘She’ll manage.’ Bishop pointed though the crowd to Wilson’s wife. ‘Why don’t you go and talk to Auntie Mona for a couple of minutes? I need to have a word with Pat.’

  Alice gave them each a peck on the cheek and disappeared into the crowd. They waited until she was gone.

  ‘What’s up?’ Wilson asked.

  ‘Come for a walk.’

  They headed down a sterile hall and into a kitchen filled with cops’ wives preparing and packaging trays of food. At the far end, they were alone. Bishop took a quick look around. Nobody could hear them.

  ‘Can you spare a couple of extra guys?’ he asked.

  ‘For what?’

  He lit a cigarette in short and edgy moves. ‘For Chloe Richards.’

  Wilson let out a sigh.

  ‘I just need a couple of guys for a couple of days.’

  ‘What you need is rest.’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ he yelled before lowering his voice. ‘It’s just a couple of guys.’

  ‘Have a look at yourself. Your hands are shaking, your eyes are bloodshot, you look like shit.’ He took a breath. ‘Let it go, will you? The case is closed. There’s nothing more to do.’

  ‘Why did she have to die? Why that girl in a building full of girls? And who did the killing? I took out the four guys in the lobby and the one upstairs. And then Chloe Richards was murdered. Who did that?’

  ‘Don’t start with this Justice talk again.’

  ‘All those girls that were there that night, the runaways, they’re all gone. There was someone else, don’t you see? There had to be.’

  ‘Justice?’