Adam didn’t let her continue. “I love this job. Wouldn’t trade it for a million bucks.”
Cate didn’t say anything further.
A couple of hours passed. Cloud cover had kept the temperature in the car steady and the mood in the car stale. She peered through the binoculars for the fortieth time. “Ah, bingo. There it is. A white Land Cruiser wagon.” She passed the binoculars to her understudy. “The boys from the bush are back in town.”
“Isn’t that a song by Smokey someone?” Adam giggled.
“No, you dill.” She laughed.
CHAPTER 61
HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A COUSIN SCORNED
Martin snuck a glance at his cousin. Right now he hated the sight of him. But he couldn’t let his rage take over. He tried to settle his thoughts as the bikies’ workshop came into view. For now, he would have to pretend nothing was wrong. Even to Matt, he would pretend that his beating this morning was deserved and necessary. Of course, that was far from the truth.
Last night he’d even considered letting his cousin in on his secret with Peter. That idea was now dead. Nevertheless, he was torn between his pride and the ‘love’ for his cousin. He touched his cheek; it was sore.
Matt afforded his smaller cousin a glance, “It will clear in a few days. You’ll be right.”
Matt’s comment triggered a tornado in Martin’s brain. He had to muster a superhuman amount of inner strength to stop it from touching ground. His revenge would have to wait.
The big wagon pulled into the driveway through the double gated entrance and came to a stop in front of the rear shed. The main work-shop area was populated with eight cars, two of them on a hoist. They looked like another customer bringing in their vehicle for a repair.
Inside the workshop, Bushy opened the driver side door and inspected the speedometer of the Kingswood. He saw the boys from the bush pull up in the white 80 Series, as he spied from the mirror. He observed them for a minute.
Eddie came out from the rear entrance to the clubhouse. He casually walked towards the Toyota while adjusting his sunglasses. Even though it was overcast, Eddie liked wearing his signature Oakleys. They were a wrap-around design, closely hugging his face and made him look efficient.
Matt’s window was wound down. “Eddie. Thanks for your invitation once again.”
“Always good to see ‘the boys from the bush’.” Eddie obliged, as Matt and Martin were aptly nicknamed by the bikers. Eddie beckoned them to follow him into the clubhouse.
Once inside, they were guided straight to the ‘boardroom’. No surprises there. The meets had been predictable, if not boring. Accustomed to the visitors’ lack of interest in anything other than coffee, Eddie clicked his fingers and the new ‘slave’ was sent to get coffees sorted. The ‘slave’ was a twenty-something skinny kid with ample facial hair-growth and silver rings hanging off everything from his ears to his nose, eye-brows and god-knows where else. Matt noticed but made comment.
“Walk into a door?” Eddie remarked, looking Martin squarely in the face.
Martin nodded and answered, “I’ll have to be more careful.”
Eddie knew that answer was bullshit. He shrugged and let it go.
There were only three of them in the room. The conversation was light, and it covered the traffic snarls coming up from the coast. They waited for the coffee to arrive before any business would be discussed. After the slave presented the coffee and the savoury snacks, he was ushered out promptly by an impatient Eddie.
“You’re going to Melbourne with a package. Same arrangement as the last. Only this time you are bringing something back. It’s a rich deal for you as you get paid for the return trip. How’s that for generous?” Eddie slurped from his steaming black coffee.
“What are we bringing back?” Matt asked.
“My new Harley,” Eddie proudly announced.
“Acquired by chance?” Matt was cynical.
“Actually, no. It’s above board, I paid for this one. A legal bike, with original untampered serial numbers.” Eddie laughed.
“I’m impressed. Must be a special model,” Matt replied.
Eddie ignored the cynicism. ”I trust you boys to bring her to me safely.”
“You can count on it.” Matt helped himself to a party-sized sausage roll. He dipped the snack deep into the tomato sauce bowl. Dispensing with any table-etiquette, he stuffed the more than bite-sized pastry into his mouth. A couple of big chews later he swallowed then he wiped his hands against each other, flicking pastry bits on the table.
Eddie ignored his poor table manner. Give the ‘slave’ something useful to do.
“Are you interested in purchasing some handguns?” Matt’s left field question evoked a reaction like someone dropping a grenade on the table before them. Eddie was surprised. Neither noticed the expression on Martin’s face. He was the one that caught the grenade.
Eddie scratched his whiskers and narrowed his eyes. “Maybe.” He ran his hand through his dark long locks. “Tell me more. And how many have you got to sell?”
Matt reached over to pinch another snack, a round party-pie this time. The heat had gone out of it. He drowned it in sauce and shoved it into his mouth. Eddie waited patiently for his guest to finish chewing. He regretted arranging the savoury snacks with the coffee.
“There’s only four. All .22 calibre. Definitely two Berettas, and one Ruger. The other is a Colt,” Matt replied as he finished smacking his lips and wiping his hands over the table.
Martin was relieved his cousin hadn’t offered the Smith & Wesson. However, that gesture would still not save him from his plans for his cousin. It meant that Matt was keeping the big Browning. The show-stopper. The .45 calibre. Even though that cannon was in the poorest condition of them all.
Eddie narrowed his eyes once more, without taking his gaze off Matt. The chubby courier was too busy filling his face with another sausage-roll to detect the expression of ‘epiphany’ on the big biker’s face. Is that a coincidence? Okay they are fairly common on the black market. But the combination, two Berettas, a Ruger, and a Walther. There’s a Ruger missing. Eddie’s mind was racing.
“Where did you score these?”
“Does it matter?” Matt countered and wiped his hands on his jeans this time.
Eddie sized up his visitor’s comment and his visitor’s attitude, before deciding to let that question go. “I guess not.”
“Serial numbers are wiped,” Matt added, anticipating the next question. “Want to talk some other numbers? Dollar numbers?”
“Let me think about it,” Eddie replied.
“Okay, let’s conclude our other business.” Matt proposed.
Martin’s heart was thumping in his ears. He felt his fingers trembling and swallowed a few times rapidly in succession. The thirst in his mouth for water was great. His thirst for Matt’s blood was overwhelming.
CHAPTER 62
AN UNEASY MEETING
Adam was studying the target building, waiting for the visitors to come out. “So what are we doing? Are we following them when they come out?” Questioning as he was peering through the magnifiers.
“Yes, we’ll observe from a distance. Tail them for a while. See if they make any other stops. But I don’t want them to be alarmed even in the slightest. More than likely they will be heading out of town. That’s their gig, delivering goods to other places. Like Canberra, or Melbourne.”
“Don’t want to pick them up now then, I suppose. Sting them for possession?” Adam deduced.
“No. There is more to these two characters than meets the eye. On the face of it, they appear to be mules, couriers, small fry,” Cate replied.
Adam nodded.
“Let’s just watch and learn. I will fill you in on some other details that I received this morning. Mostly about these two characters. We got lucky.” Cate tapped him on the shoulder and reached for the binoculars. Nothing was happening so far. The white wagon had been in the compound for twenty minutes now.
“So how did we get lucky?” Adam asked.
Cate put the magnifiers down. “Apparently the couriers are related. The fat one is Matt Villier and his skinny cousin is Martin Villier. They are known in the Ulladulla area, because that’s where Matt spent most of his youth. He has been a courier for a long time. In fact, he has a legitimate courier business. It is common knowledge that he dabbles in petty crime stuff. He has been known to fence a few stolen tools and sells a bit dope on the side. Of course, we now know that he is into transporting serious quantities of drugs, cocaine, amphetamines and god knows what else. Martin helps him.”
She unscrewed the cap to her water-bottle, cleared her throat and had a swig. “We got lucky, because Cousin Martin recently got his NSW driver’s licence. And for that he needed a photo taken. Before that he was flying under the radar. No one ever thought to look at him sideways until his picture got matched on the system, matched to an artist’s sketch. You see there is a detailed description of a perp that sold a .22 Ruger to a punter, who shot a biker at a pub in Wollongong last year. And according to South Coast Crime Squad, that description matches Martin Villier to a hair.”
“So what does he look like then?” Adam asked.
“Funny thing is, I haven’t seen his mugshot yet. Only got told all this info this morning when South Coast Crime Squad rang me. Had my feelers out a few weeks ago about these two. He’s faxing me a copy of the licence photo and the artist’s cartoon of his face. If we’re lucky we might get to see him in real life.” Cate was upbeat.
It wasn’t long before Adam snatched the binoculars from the console. “White Land Cruiser poking its head out the gate.”
“Okay, we’re on.”
Cate turned the key and the small engine let go a sporty growl. She waited. The white wagon turned left out of the clubhouse driveway: exactly what she’d hoped for. She eased the two-door out of her spot. A few cars turned into Warraba from a side road. That was even better. The maroon hatch was sitting two cars back from the target at the lights. The wagon’s right hand blinker was flashing a crisp orange.
On Pittwater Road she wove the car in and out of traffic as inconspicuous as she could. She actually wanted to creep up behind the Land Cruiser and at the next set of lights she planned to pull up next to them. A sun-damaged Hyundai Hatchback was hard to confuse with a police surveillance vehicle. Today Cate was dressed in plain clothes. She put sunglasses on and even stuck a cigarette in her mouth and lit it.
“That plastic box comes in pretty handy. Boss. Can’t believe you even keep smokes in there.”
“Anything to throw off scent,” Cate said. She gunned the little car forward and shoehorned it into a spot next to the big wagon. The passenger window was down. Stoked. She casually turned her head sideways to the Land Cruiser and flicked some ash from her cigarette out of the window. Then Cate slowly looked up, as if to say ‘who the fuck are you’.
Don’t look at other drivers and their passengers. No eye contact. Today Martin disregarded those instructions and simply rebelled. Matt didn’t pick up on it, he was too busy thinking about the logistics of having to go back home, pick up the Pantec so they could bring back Eddie’s new Harley from Melbourne. A slow fucking trip.
But Martin did look at the person in the car next to them. He scowled at the woman wearing sunglasses and flicking ashes out of her car window. His dark lifeless eyes conveyed his revulsion of her as their eyes met.
The dark sunglasses hid Cate’s sudden fear in her eyes. Quickly, she turned her attention back to the traffic lights. She could feel the ice of his scrutiny spearing her neck and it made her skin crawl. She chucked the cigarette out of the window and wished the lights would change.
The traffic started moving and the Land Cruiser followed suit. She stalled the hatchback, but not on purpose. Behind her someone tapped the horn and then another in the line, made a real job of it. She started the car and while moving forward she stuck her arm out of the window flashed her middle finger. Up high. As high as she could reach to the sky. She mouthed an obscenity.
“I’ll try not to piss you off!” Adam chuckled.
Cate didn’t respond, her previous candour had been replaced by an anxiety that Adam could not put his finger on. He elected to remain silent. Cate veered off to the right and lost their target. Adam knew that was not a miscalculation, she was going back to the office.
Cate drove the car at the speed limit. That was a new one.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Adam finally broke the impasse.
Cate faced her young counterpart and sighed. “Not now. Have an early mark, because we’re going to be very busy for the next few weeks.”
The tyres screeched as she rounded the corner and drove down into the underground carpark. She eased the car into the allocated spot, yanked on the handbrake and switched the engine off. She got out and slammed the door shut. Adam knew that body language.
“Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll be in a better frame of mind.” She left him in the carpark and went straight to her own car. Adam dismissed her instruction to go home, instead he went back to his desk. She wasn’t going to be around to tell him off for ignoring her.
Cate sat behind the wheel of her car for a few minutes before starting the engine. Darren was right. The ghostly white face, those black, intense, yet lifeless beady eyes which bore straight into hers, left a lasting impression, like a bad memory. She had never felt that sensation from any of the crims she’d ever dealt with or put away.
CHAPTER 63
TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE
Darren had a second short-shift day. Not unhappy, he stuck the key in the door, but found it unlocked. He pushed it open and saw Cate sitting on the lounge with a beer in her hand.
“You’re either celebrating or … I’m too scared to ask … you’re really pissed off about something.”
“I’m not celebrating,” was the blunt answer.
“Something I’ve done? Or not done?” As he cracked the fridge door he picked his stubby and twisted the cap off.
“No. Not you.” Cate took another swig.
Darren stood in wait. He sensed her impatience, but at the same time she was reticent. “I saw him today.”
“Saw who today?”
“The evil one.”
“Which evil one?”
“I’m pretty sure it was him. Your scrawny skin-head. Those dark, beady and lifeless eyes.” She paused and looked out into nothing. Reflective. ”Like they burned into my head.”
“I’m lost here. Where did you see him?” Darren’s expression became serious.
“I have some questions. More to do with what you are planning, and maybe, you’ve not told me everything. Or have you?” Cate was straddling two worlds, the NSW Police Force and Darren the cab-driver, her soulmate. “You have to understand that I love you and the lines between cop and lover and duty and crime are now somewhat blurred.” She stood as she finished those words, kissed him on the mouth and went to the fridge, where she retrieved another beer.
“We went on another stake-out.” She twisted the cap off the bottle, brought the bottle to her lips, flipped it up and continued today’s recap. “You guessed it: Warraba Road. The Sinners were expecting couriers for a pick up. My contact passed it on this morning.”
She paused and sat down.
“The couriers are a couple of cousins from the South Coast. By the name of Matt and Martin Villier. Ring any bells?”
“The name Martin does, but the last name doesn’t.” Darren sat down.
“One and the same, I don’t think there are too many Martins with eyes like a white shark and the skin colour of a Mongol in winter.” A sliver of revulsion crept up her neck.
“No, those are slim odds.”
“In another development this morning, I find out that a Martin Villier has been identified as being associated with an alleged handgun sale to a bikie, or wannabe bikie, in Wollongong, who shot and killed some other bikie.” She drank more from her beer and added, “With
a .22 calibre Ruger. Apparently.”
Darren perked up. “I read about that ages ago in a newspaper. But there was no mention of a Martin.”
“No, that came from a detailed description by the suspect, assailant or killer, if you like. You see, these days computer matching and cross-referencing can come up with all sorts of information. Anyway, let’s not get bogged down in techno babble. Martin Villier has his photo taken for a driver’s licence and the photo matches the description to a tee.” She paused and continued her theory. “The Martin you described to me the other night sounds like the same Martin. Put the stolen handguns into the picture and suddenly we have some interesting links.”
Darren held up his hand. “Stop there, you’re going a hundred miles an hour. So, you get your licence picture taken and it immediately matches some identikit sketch on the computer? Fuck, I better be careful.”
Cate interrupted him. “No that’s not how it works. Martin got pulled over. He’s a P-plater and was in a hurry. Highway Patrol pulled him over and the uniform remembered him from an artist’s sketch. The eyes, again. You see, that patrolman was on the scene after the shooting and took part in the investigation. You need a bit of luck in this game.”
“Why didn’t the copper arrest him when he pulled him over?”
“Took him a few hours to recall as it was more than a year ago. And you can’t just arrest someone for suspicion.”
Cate was re-animated. “Now we have the Devil’s Sinners in cahoots with the ‘boys from the bush’, as they are referred to by my contact. Your mates, the same mates you reckon murdered Johnno. The same mates who were supposed to buy the handguns that your other mate stole from Johnno. This same fucking mate, named Martin, who is part two of the boys from the bush.”
“Wow. What’s with the contact? What does that mean?”
Cate shook her head vehemently, “I can’t tell you anything about the contact. Jesus, you already know more than you should.”
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