A barking dog woke Nick from a deep but unrestful sleep. It had been two nights since the nightmare that stalked him every time he woke up in the middle of the night. There didn’t seem to be enough bourbon and cones to keep his mind in a coma. Daylight had filtered through the crack in the curtains. His lower back was aching and he was thirsty. The dog was barking intermittently. Patch was a constant reminder of the horror he was trying to forget. Tired and desperate, Nick rose from his bed. “Patch! Stop fucking barking!”
He dragged himself to the patio door, still in his undies. Unsure, the four-legged guard cantered towards the bare-foot man standing in the doorway. Patch wagged his tail randomly, he wasn’t sure what was expected.
Nick crouched down and patted the dog. “Sorry, mate. Barking is not a good idea. I know you miss him, like I miss my mate.” Talking to the dog while stroking his dense fur. “Soon you’ll be with a better master than me.”
He checked Patch’s water bowl before returning to his bedroom to lie down on his bed. It was the guilt of walking away from his friend’s body, leaving him to the creatures that was really eating away at his emotions. There had to be a way to get them discovered so their bodies could be removed, their deaths dignified. Soon he was asleep again.
A handful of sparrows flitted off when Darren pulled the café chair back for Cate. She sat down and smiled at him. Luigi spied them from his counter. Darren raised his thumb. Sign language. Efficient. Quick. Luigi acknowledged with a nod and smile.
“Have you rung him yet?” Cate enquired as her hands cupped the warm coffee mug.
“No, not yet.”
The morning cloud had dissipated and the blue sky accompanied by a lukewarm sun put a friendly face on the day. “It all seems so remote from here, doesn’t it?” Cate remarked.
“What do you mean?” Darren questioned.
“Never mind. We need to figure out what’s next. I’m sort of hoping the boys down in Moruya will link the bikies to the shooting. Sooner rather than later,” Cate stated.
“Why is that?”
“It means I’ve got a legitimate reason to question the Sinners.”
“What good will that do?” Darren wasn’t happy with that scenario, uncomfortable with the thought of Cate being so close to Eddie. The man was unpredictable and dangerous.
She sensed his apprehension. “I’m a big girl, you know. Been doing this work for a while.” Her serious expression changed to a look of warning. Supressing his angry frustration he lowered his sunglasses from his forehead and directed his attention to the street. Cate said nothing and drank her coffee.
“You know, we can’t leave those bodies down there, rotting in the sun,” Darren said.
“Things have gotten out of hand, particularly, since you decided to leave the scene. I shouldn’t have agreed,” Cate answered matter of fact. “It was a dumb idea, and I take responsibility for that gross error in judgment.”
“What can we do about it then?” Darren was keen for a resolution. “Nick’s a mess. He’s on the verge of a breakdown.”
“Get him to fess up,” she stated.
“That sounds like he’s a guilty party…fuck, you can be a cold bitch,” Darren said with some annoyance and then got up from the table.
“Well, he is actually guilty of concealing a crime and so are you, for that matter. A serious crime at that.” Cate didn’t bat an eye-lid. It wasn’t the first time someone called her cold. Or a bitch. And Darren was allowed because it was callous to treat his friend this way.
She had never seen Darren’s eyes this filled with anger. It was unnerving. The brief stand-off forced her to soften.
“We can play the deck a bit. Bring him to me and I’ll sort out the story. I promise I will look after him.” Several scenarios were running through her head. Cate was confident she could mitigate the damage already done. “Do you think you can convince him to come in?”
Darren nodded, as he convinced himself to trust her. “I’ll do my best to bring him to you.” He kissed her on the lips and left the café.
Cate watched him disappear into the crowd. How am I going to keep him from getting deeper into this mess?
CHAPTER 86
OPPORTUNITY HAS KNOCKED
Adam grabbed the pages as they were faxed through by Senior Sergeant Wilson. He quickly scanned the content of each page before arranging them neatly to present to Cate.
“Hey boss. This just came in. Copy of a front page from a local publication. You’ll enjoy this,“ Adam spread the two documents before her on the desk.
…SOUTH COAST MURDER SPREE…
“SOUTH COAST residents are reeling from the discovery of three bodies discovered in two separate locations. Allegedly, both crime scenes indicate execution-style murders…A well-known local identity, whose name has not been released by police, is alleged to be among the victims…
According to local sources, the first discovery, that of a single murder victim was on a remote property in the hinterland of Moruya. A local Moruya resident made the gruesome discovery by chance when he visited the property previously owned by his family. Police suspect possible links with organised crime to be a factor in this murder. Investigations are ongoing.
A second crime scene was discovered as a result from an anonymous tip-off from the public. Police were alerted and found two deceased persons on a property late on Monday afternoon. Equally gruesome, as described by some sources, police have yet to establish any firm leads, or motives.
Cate scanned the faxes and after reading the documents she binned them.
“Do you want me to go down south?”
“No, because to me there is not enough to suggest that these homicides are related. There are more pressing issues here. I have a gut feeling that the bikies will be accused of being involved in the Villier murder. Let’s be patient and see what the day will bring.”
Cate was relieved that she managed to pull off ‘the anonymous tip-off’ trick. It wouldn’t stick long term of course. For now, she didn’t want Adam to dig into the second crime scene. Doing so would cause more complications than she could deal with.
It wasn’t long before Cate received a phone-call from forensics confirming what she wanted to hear. There was plenty of physical evidence of fresh tyre marks from heavy motorcycles at the crime scene. “This ties in with a couple of bikies making enquiries and asking for directions to the property in question.” There we go, two and two.
“Thanks. Keep me posted.” Cate hung up.
Confirming that bikes were at the scene and the fact that two bikies sporting their Devil Sinners’ colours were making enquiries in Moruya, specifically looking for Matt Villier, was enough for her to go and rattle the cage. All she had to do now was jump at the opportunity, and soon.
CHAPTER 87
A SHOT FROM THE DARK
The IOUs had been paraded before him. Not pleased at all with the first collection result, Eddie instructed his disciples to be ruthless. “Fucking get out there and get money out of the cunts, don’t come back here without the money,” he snarled.
In the mechanical shop it was business as usual. Bushy was in charge of all the repair work and Gator helped him out on the hoist. Phillip Janiuk was nicknamed ‘Gator’, because he drank Gatorade by the litre. Life in the DS Auto repair shop was cruisy. The patronage was mostly older and customers with a chequered past, enthusiasts who drove American and Aussie muscle-cars. Although a ‘grumpy cunt’, as many of his customers would describe the scruffy mechanic, he was well respected for his mechanical knowledge and his skills in fixing problems no one else seemed to be able to get their head around.
It was nearly beer o’clock, although that time slot varied by many hours on some days. Today, Bushy popped the top off a VB at six-forty five. He nodded to himself, and agreed with the ad, a well-earned thirst. He slammed the can and squashed it as he squeezed the entire contents into his mouth, spilling a small amount on his work-shirt. Gator had already bailed. The only person still han
ging around was Mojo. It was normal for the boys to do maintenance on their motorcycles in the shop – and Mojo was a regular. A common interest in older, vintage motorcycles brought Mojo and Bushy together to become good mates. At times, James found it difficult to reconcile his true mission with the personal friendships he had cultivated to be efficacious in his undercover work.
As he put the final touches over the gleaming black with chrome trim petrol tank James marvelled at the machine. Maybe I could buy it off them. He scowled at the thought of returning the beautiful Harley to its rightful owner, the New South Wales State Government. All good things must come to an end. And he would not be able to ride this Harley, anyway. In fact, Mojo nearly regretted having to leave this assignment. He would have to disappear for a while. A transfer to another city was on the cards. And Adam, another issue, he would have sort out his relationship. Figure out where to go with that.
Warraba Road was still busy with traffic. Mojo looked up as a ‘thuck’ disturbed the quiet in the workshop.
A small red hole appeared in Bushy’s forehead. He fell heavily to the floor after hitting his head on the front guard of his ’57 Chevrolet. It was difficult to tell the colour of his blood from the colour of the Chevy’s red painted guard.
“Shit!” Instant recognition jolted James back to reality.
He rushed to Bushy’s side. Although the entry point of the bullet was small, blood flowed freely from the exit hole at the back of Bushy’s head. Kneeling beside the body, his mind raced, and from his position on the floor James quickly analysed the scenario. He projected a path from Bushy’s position out to the street. That was an accurate shot. Definitely a .22. A Magnum, most likely. From a sniper rifle in a parked vehicle out in the street and a spot that was scoped out beforehand, to ensure a clear path through the front gates. This was a hit.
CHAPTER 88
BROTHERS IN ARMS
The pungent odour of the vindaloo curry simmering in the stainless steel pot wafted right through the small apartment complex. Darren had finished his shift early, once again filling in for Avi, who in turn had helped him out on the weekend by taking his shifts at short notice. As he neared the door of the top floor unit, the strong culinary cloud misted through the cracks of the door-jamb. She must have put some chilli in that!
“Hi. You can smell our new Indian restaurant from the carpark,” Darren commented in his usual dry manner.
“Hello you. But does it smell nice?” Cate was stirring the pot, making sure the thick sauce wasn’t sticking to the bottom.
“By the way, I think you’re wanted. Your mobile is flashing.” He dropped his collection-bag on the coffee table.
“It must be on silent again. Bloody annoying.” She put the wooden spoon on the benchtop to inspect who the caller was. She reset the ringer alert on the device.
“Work,” she sighed.
“Guess you better ring ‘m back. Never know, it could be a mass shooting.”
“It’s James. Could be important.” Too late to answer, she anticipated a text message following.
And there it was: ‘Code red. Stand by’.
Then her mobile rang. “Boss, there’s been a shooting in Narrabeen, uniform are on the way. Guess where,” Adam reported.
“Think I know. James just texted,” Cate replied. ”At least he’s okay.”
“Yes, he is,” Adam confirmed.
Cate pressed the end button. The adrenaline switch in her body flicked to the start position. It was: Game On.
“The best thing about curry is that it’s even better after sitting for a while. Got to go, sweetie. Turn it off in five, give it a stir. It’s going to be a late one. Call you later.” She whirl-winded around the room, picking up her kit, her jacket and her briefcase. Within seconds she was gone, didn’t even wait for the elevator, instead rushing down the concrete stairs of the fire-escape.
Before Darren could utter his question she was gone. “What’s the rush?”
Mojo was put in charge of rounding up the troops. “Get on the blower and ring everyone,” Eddie barked. The big man crouched down next to his slain brother. A blank stare. A trickle of blood on Bushy’s forehead softened the reality of a much larger exit wound, which was swelling the pool of blood under his head. Fucking wogs. That cunt in Manly is going to pay for this.
Before long the sirens were blaring. Within minutes the driveway and the street-scape was aglow with red lights, blue lights, white lights – like it was a Christmas street-fest. Four squad cars, an ambulance, a dark blue Commodore wagon, a dozen uniforms all milled around sorting their positions on the field. Every one stayed back from the gate. Both Cate and Adam were in poll position, their weapons drawn, but not pointed.
The thunder from half a dozen Harleys coming up the street heightened the tension among the police personnel already on edge from a stand-off. Cate urged calm and restraint. Adam kept his eyes focussed on the premises, hoping to catch a glimpse of his partner. The Harleys pulled up behind the gathering, keeping sufficient distance to not provoke the police. The bikies remained on their shining machines, leaving them idling.
Adam looked at Cate who urged him to be calm with a steadying gesture of her hand. His eyes scoped out the reaction of the police officers. The noise of the idling Harleys was unnerving, but his colleagues remained calm.
At last, a large person emerged from the subdued lighting in the Devil’s Sinners’ driveway. He conveyed his peaceful intent by raising his big arms. His pace was steady and resolute, but he wasn’t in a hurry, keeping his head slightly down to show humility.
Twenty paces from the gate, Cate ordered him, “Please stop there and keep your hands in plain sight.” Cate nodded to Adam and in a low voice directed him to remain alert and keep his service pistol drawn.
“I am going to approach you. Please stay where you are.” She holstered her Glock and calmly walked towards the bikie leader.
“You are a funny lot. I report a fucking murder and you front up like you’re expecting a war.” Eddie spat at the ground.
“Your hospitality has not been tested and your reputation is suspect at best. As long as no hostile behaviour is displayed by you or your members, you won’t have a problem with us. Now, let’s get to business.” She laid out the rules of engagement.
“Is anyone else hurt, other than the person you reported shot?”
“No.”
“We are going to enter your premises. Is that a problem for you?”
“No. I give you permission to enter,” Eddie said tersely.
No one moved. The Harleys were still idling. With a cut-throat gesture Eddie ordered his disciples across the street to switch off their bikes.
Cate signalled Adam. The paramedics were standing by, awaiting clearance. She waved her hand and the medics made their way over. Eddie led the procession to the garage, where Bushy lay.
Cate noticed that the Harleys were silenced, but were left parked at the same spot. The Sinners’ new prospect was ordered to stand guard over the Harleys while the bikies solemnly walked into the compound.
“So, want to tell me what happened here?” Cate started a casual interrogation.
“Well, he got shot where he dropped to the floor. Right there,” Eddie said.
I can see that. Cate thought. “Any witnesses? Did anyone see it happen?”
“Yeah. Him.” Eddie pointed to Mojo. ”Talk to pretty boy over there. He was polishing his bike when Bushy got nailed.”
Cate nodded and walked over to the handsome smooth-faced bikie. “You saw the shooting?”
Mojo deliberately settled back onto his seat, without a word, but looked straight at the female detective. Without taking his eyes off her, he asked her, “So what’s your name, poh-lees woman? Don’t usually answer questions unless I know who I am talking to.”
“You always a smartarse?” Cate shot back.
“I don’t talk to fucking coppers unless I get a badge number and a name. Especially slags like you,” Mojo answered and the ent
ourage froze. It was unexpected from the normally sedate and articulate bikie. But the look taking shape on Cate’s face was priceless, she blushed while feigning anger descending into an inability to respond.
The spirit of the exchange had now been soured. Eddie was watching the display, amused at Mojo’s talent for engaging this woman copper to entice her into losing her cool, getting belittled in front of her colleagues.
Cate made brief eye-contact with Adam.
“Hey you, what’s your name? Show some respect, the senior inspector is asking you routine questions,” Adam interjected.
Cate was relieved and excited. Her young charge had tuned into the play.
“Not until your slut gives up her name, rank and badge,” Mojo continued.
“I need to see some identification, sir,” Adam insisted. ”Refusal to provide identification may result in further questioning, at the police station.”
“You can get fucked, Fabio,” Mojo responded defiantly.
Adam’s eyes really fumed. Call me Fabio again and I’ll really deck you.
Cate interrupted the tit for tat, “Okay, this is how it is. The choice is, talk right here and now. This is a crime scene and you are the only witness apparently, so help us out, in fact, help out your buddies. But if you don’t want to cooperate, I can have you taken into custody and we can talk further at the station.”
“Hey, I know my rights and you cunts can’t take me in. You haven’t got probable cause,” Mojo replied.
God what a load of shit James, but it will work, Adam mused.
“Listen mate, you call my senior a ‘cunt’ again and I’ll take you in,” Adam played the game.
“Okay, baby-face, guess she’s not the only cunt here. You can both get fucked, I’m not answering shit.” Mojo hopped off his bike and started to walk away.
“Where are you going? We’re not done.” Adam grabbed the pretty-boy biker by the scruff of his leather jacket and pulled him back. A short scuffle followed. Nothing too wild, but convincing enough. It mesmerised the crowd of bikers who were in awe of pretty-boy’s balls.
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