Fatal Mistake

by Karen M. Davis

  ‘Are we ready to start?’ Rachel asked.

  There was a consensus of nodding heads.

  ‘We’ve been preparing for tonight’s deal for some days now, so everyone should know what’s happening. I say this before every job: our number one objective is the safety of our operatives.’ Flicking her blond hair off her face, Rachel smiled at Lexie before once again going over logistics and operational orders.

  ‘The deal is to take place at Club Hellfire, which will give us great ammunition to obtain a search warrant, because it shows the drugs are actually being sold from the premises. The search will give us the opportunity to seize the DVDs that are stored in Rocco’s office and check out the possibility of a brothel being run from rooms upstairs.’

  The plan was Rachel and Batman would be in a surveillance van around the corner from Club Hellfire. They had all the technical equipment to listen in to the deal through a recording device Lexie would wear clipped to her jeans. Rachel would keep their commander updated on the situation while Sam and Henry remained on standby in a car nearby.

  Lexie stared out through the frosted glass windows at the darkness outside. She too could feel the pressure building. Why couldn’t she shake the nervous tension that was making her twitchy?

  She brought her concentration back to the briefing. Rachel was showing the recording device she would wear. It resembled a car’s remote key, so it wouldn’t raise any suspicions when she clipped it to her belt.

  ‘Very James Bond,’ Batman said.

  ‘Got to love technology,’ Ron Barrington added. ‘When I did UC work we had to wear wires strapped to our bodies. The whole time you’d be doing the deal, you’d be terrified of being patted down.’

  ‘Once the deal is done, Lexie, you’re to get into your car. Rocco is allowing her to park in the private parking outside his club,’ Rachel said for the others’ benefit. ‘I want you to head to Clovelly Beach car park. We’ll tail you to ensure you’re not followed. I’ll make contact with you and – once we’re sure it’s safe – follow you back here for a debriefing.’

  The drugs would have to be photographed, logged and then entered as exhibits before being sent to the lab for analysis. The verbal recordings would have to be tagged, transcribed and documented. e@gle.i and computer taskings need to be written off. Statements and car diaries completed. Duty books filled out. All t’s had to be crossed and i’s dotted. The continuity of all evidence had to be corroborated, so the legality of the investigation could not be disputed in court.

  ‘I want you to take your firearm with you tonight.’ Rachel looked at Lexie meaningfully. ‘If you get searched, or it’s revealed you have a gun, tell Rocco you always take protection when doing a drug deal – your Uncle Rex taught you that.’

  Lexie nodded. She’d been issued with a semiautomatic Beretta devoid of police markings for her undercover work. She didn’t often take it with her, but some occasions definitely called for the added security of a weapon.

  A thought jumped into Lexie’s head. I know the DNA from the tissues and cigarette butts are not a match with the samples taken from Kelsey Leech’s body, but have Homicide checked if Johnny’s DNA is on the database?’ Lexie asked, as the name smeared itself across her mind.

  ‘They’re looking into it. I’ve also informed Homicide of the argument between Tiffany and Erika.’ She paused, picked up some papers on the table in front of her. ‘Last thing – these are the call charge records on “Lenny’s” phone.

  ‘We have suspicions about the motives of a male claiming to want to give Lexie “important information”. Checks reveal the phone used to call Bondi Junction Police Station, where this Lenny tried to contact Lexie, is a pre-paid, purchased two days ago from a dodgy newsagency in Auburn under the name of Daphne Duck.’ Rachel raised her eyebrows. ‘I sent Sam out to have a chat with the owner, who swears his business is above board. However, the surveillance cameras were conveniently broken so, we couldn’t view any footage of customers coming and going.’

  Although not surprised by this information, Lexie was still disappointed. Most crooks had secret or throwaway phones, and this ‘Lenny’ was certainly off, she was certain of that. Her skin prickled at the thought of him. But she couldn’t worry about him now. Once this job was done, she would deal with Lenny – or whoever he was.

  ‘Okay, has anyone got any questions?’ Rachel asked, glancing around at the sea of faces watching her. When she got no reply, she clapped her hands together. ‘Good, now you all know what you have to do. Let’s get to it.’

  • • •

  Lexie had no sooner sat down at her desk when Batman approached her. She had been trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the conversation between him and Josh without causing another argument between them.

  ‘Can we talk for a minute, Lexie?’ Batman asked sheepishly as he stood beside her desk.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, without raising her head. For the moment, they were alone in the office. She could feel Batman’s discomfort.

  He grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and pulled it over. ‘I’m sure you’ve spoken to Josh by now . . .’

  Lexie looked him in the eyes. ‘I have.’

  He dropped his head and shook it. ‘I don’t blame you for being mad. I just wanted to apologise for my—’

  A door banged loudly and the sound of frenzied footsteps drew near, cutting Batman off.

  ‘Turn on the television,’ Sam screamed, racing into the room. ‘Where’s the remote?’

  Lexie and Batman watched as he ran around in circles, searching frantically for the remote control for the television. He found it on an empty desk and fumbled to turn it on.

  ‘Where’s the fire, Sam?’ Batman joked.

  Sam held his hand in the air. ‘Listen, listen.’

  Rachel, Ron and Henry were next to come rushing in. Something was happening. Lexie’s first thought was the drug job: had there been some underworld shooting, a drive-by execution? Nervously she joined the others gathered around the television. It flickered on and an attractive reporter stared down the lens of the camera. Lexie didn’t know why, but her pulse tripped and that cold hand of fear squeezed her stomach.

  ‘The fire seems to have been deliberately lit,’ the reporter said. ‘An accelerant has been identified by forensic examiners.’

  The image on the screen switched to a rural setting. A fire had ravaged a farmhouse and its surrounding acreage. The camera panned out, showed the charred remains of the structure of a small dwelling. The grass and trees around it had been burnt black, and smoke still smouldered from ash piles across the ground.

  ‘The remains of a badly burnt body have been discovered in the wreckage.’ The camera was back on the reporter. ‘Fire investigators fear, due to the fierceness of the blaze, identification will be extremely difficult.’ She paused. ‘The rural residence and a vehicle located on the property belong to Rex Donaldson, former bikie and sergeant-at-arms of the disbanded Devil’s Guardians Outlaw Motorcycle Club.’

  Lexie heard someone gasp, then realised it was her. A loud buzzing started in her ears. Her legs grew weak; her head was light.

  ‘No! No, no, no . . . there is no way.’ She thought of the Assassins bombing that had filled the news only days ago. Could the same people be responsible for – Lexie couldn’t think it, let alone say it. She let Batman and Rachel guide her to a seat. They crouched either side of her, knowing she was close to Rex, though they couldn’t guess at the depth of their friendship. No one could.

  ‘Detectives fear this is just another consequence of a never-ending bikie war,’ the reporter continued.

  ‘Rex is dead?’ Did she say that out loud? Lexie had no idea.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Lexie.’ There were tears in her supervisor’s eyes. ‘I know you were friends, but let’s not jump to conclusions. It may not be Rex. We should wait to see if forensics can . . . Uh . . . identify . . .’ Rachel’s voice trailed off.

  Normally Lexie would think the same way; wait fo
r evidence to confirm Rex’s death. But Rachel didn’t know about the contract on his life. Rachel didn’t know that some underworld scum wanted him dead.

  It was surreal, way too much for Lexie’s mind to take in. She could see her colleagues staring at her with concern, but even they didn’t seem solid. Lexie knew nothing other than Rex was dead. Probably dead . . . More than likely dead. She had sensed he would be all right, but her instincts had let her down. What good was a sixth sense when it was wrong? When it couldn’t help those who needed it? Lexie felt utterly useless. And completely devastated.

  ‘Rex is dead.’ She shook her head in disbelief, feeling sick. She stared at Rachel, pleading for her to say it wasn’t true. ‘I just can’t believe it.’ She didn’t know what to do, where to go. Time should stand still, but of course, it doesn’t. Time stands still for no man. Not even one as great as Rex Donaldson.

  CHAPTER 41

  Brad felt unseen eyes watching them leave the building Teddy Johnson no longer lived in. ‘So, what do you think?’

  They were walking towards their car. Dani stared up at him and pulled a grim face. ‘What I think is I don’t need to come back to Suicide Towers any time soon.’ She stepped around a pile of dog droppings in the middle of the footpath. Anywhere else, she would say that was disgusting. But here, a bit of dog poo was insignificant. ‘Let’s just hope the car is still there.’

  Brad raised himself onto his tiptoes to peer over the tops of parked cars. ‘Oh my god, it’s gone.’ His face dropped. ‘The car’s been stolen.’

  Dani gasped, stared up at him, horrified. ‘Really?’

  He burst out laughing. ‘Gotcha!’

  She whacked him hard in the arm. ‘Not funny.’

  The car stank of McDonald’s. Dani complained, making Brad dispense of the packaging in a nearby bin.

  ‘I seriously have to start smoking again. I’m putting on too much weight. It’s not good for me.’

  ‘And smoking is?’ Dani shook her head.

  ‘You sound like Lexie.’

  Dani shrugged. She flicked the indicator on and pulled out of the parking spot. ‘Where to, Boss?’

  ‘Let’s head to the fires of hell.’

  When Dani gave him a confused sideways glance, Brad clarified. ‘Club Hellfire – get it?’

  Dani groaned. ‘Lexie didn’t warn me about your bad jokes. I take it you believe what that little weasel told us?’

  ‘Since it’s the only lead we have, it’s worth checking out. If it turns out to be a dead end, we can put out a state-wide alert to notify all police that Johnson is wanted for questioning regarding a homicide. But let’s head to the club first, see what that tells us.’

  The little weasel from Suicide Towers told them Teddy Johnson supplied him with dope and cocaine while he lived at number forty. Apparently, he talked big and bragged about once being an explosives expert in the army. He now supposedly ran Club Hellfire at Kings Cross, though the weasel suspected he was probably just a barman. The description he’d offered fitted Johnson’s grainy mug shot and the credentials noted on his record. He was of slim build and above average height with blond hair and fair skin. The weasel stated he was quite effeminate, possibly gay.

  Brad thought of the surveillance footage. If DNA from the wig and jacket matched Teddy Johnson’s, who was in the database, he could be placed at the scene of the crime. Together with his fingerprints on the bottle of Mythos beer found in the park nearby, they had a strong circumstantial case against him.

  Dani’s local knowledge of Kings Cross came in very handy as she navigated Sydney’s afternoon traffic by using shortcuts and back streets. Brad called the office, spoke to their boss and let him know what they were doing. He then called Marty Wells, Bondi Junctions’ analyst, and asked him to get a profile started on Teddy Johnson.

  Plucking a hanky from his top pocket, Brad wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead. He switched the dial on the air conditioning to full throttle. ‘I hope that’s not too cold for you, I’m boiling. I’ll text Lex and see if there’s any news on her dad.’

  Dani nodded absently. ‘I was just thinking. The weasel mentioned Teddy Johnson bragged about being in the army. We could check with the Department of Defence, see if they have recruitment records for him. If he really was in the army, they might have a better picture than the gritty mug shot we have.’

  ‘Good thinking, 99.’

  ‘I know we don’t know much about this Teddy Johnson yet, but I’m just thinking about the three elements, the summations of a crime.’

  Brad gave her a look. ‘You getting all detective technical on me now?’

  Dani smiled. ‘If he was an explosives expert, he has the means to blow up the clubhouse. If the DNA comes back a positive match and we can prove that it’s him on the surveillance video, he has the opportunity – it discredits an alibi. What I don’t get is his motive. Why the hell would some petty, drug-dealing, two-bit criminal want to blow up a bikie clubhouse, knowing bikies don’t forgive or forget – ever – and are liable to kill for no good reason?’

  ‘Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? It could come down to revenge, power, someone who hates bikies, mental illness – the list goes on. There are a lot of crazy people in this world, you know.’ He gave Dani a cheeky grin as though he was telling her something she didn’t know. ‘He may have been contracted, paid to do it. He may be a scapegoat – that’s for us to determine.’

  ‘It is.’ Dani looked thoughtfully at Brad. ‘We need to find him . . . and soon.’

  • • •

  Brad noted the neon lights outside Club Hellfire looked dull and tacky in the cold light of day. The laneway in which the nightclub was located was sullied and seedy. Graffiti smeared the front wall of the building, tags and genitalia the main themes. The front doors were black and protected by fortified steel mesh that reminded Brad of the fortress appearance of the Assassins’ clubhouse before it was blown to smithereens.

  ‘Looks like the place is closed,’ Dani said, as they did a slow drive by. ‘We can get the Licensing Police to do a walk through when the club is open, do an inspection of the books to ascertain if Teddy Johnson is an employee. That way it won’t raise any flags – they’ll think it’s standard procedure.’

  ‘Good idea. But let’s try doing things the old-fashioned way to start with.’

  She gave him a glance.

  He smiled. ‘Knock on the door and see what we find.’

  Dani parked in one of the reserved car spaces outside the club. They walked to the metal mesh door and pressed the doorbell.

  Dani raised an eyebrow at Brad. ‘What’s your bet? Are we going to get lucky or aren’t—’

  The door opened abruptly, surprising them both. A little Asian woman stared up at them with unconcealed curiosity. She smiled politely and bowed. Brad couldn’t begin to guess her age; still, she had an energy about her that belied the wrinkles on her face.

  ‘We closed. I’m the cleaner. You come back later,’ she said, and went to shut the door.

  Brad put his foot in the door to block it from closing, then gently pushed it open. ‘We are Detectives Sommers and Wallace.’ Brad showed his police badge. ‘We just want to speak to a man who works here.’ He kept his voice casual.

  The cleaner shook her head. ‘The owner is not here, you come back later.’

  Brad wondered why she’d even bothered to answer the door. He didn’t want to present her with the photo they had of Teddy Johnson because it was a mug shot. ‘Is there anyone else here we can speak to?’

  ‘It’s all right, May Lou,’ a female voice called from inside the club. A heartbeat later an attractive girl of about twenty-four or -five stepped around the little lady and patted her fondly on the arm. ‘I’ll handle this.’

  May Lou bowed and backed away.

  ‘My name is Krystal,’ she said, leaning against the half-open door and eyeing Brad’s badge warily. ‘I’m, um . . . I’m in charge here at the moment. Can I help you
?’

  Krystal didn’t seem convinced about being in charge at all. Brad took in her skimpy denim shorts, black and white beaded bra top and ridiculously high stilettos and wondered what she might be in charge of.

  ‘Actually, you might be able to help us,’ Brad replied.

  ‘If I can’t, I can ring my boss Lucky and—’

  ‘No need to bother him at the moment,’ Dani cut in. ‘We’d just like to contact Teddy Johnson, as we have some lost property to return to him. He’s an employee here?’

  Krystal looked relieved and then confused for a minute. ‘Um, Teddy John— that must be TJ. Sorry, I’ve only been here for a short time.’ She smiled at Dani and then Brad. She was surprisingly eager to help. Or to get rid of them. ‘I’ll check our staff book for a contact for him.’

  Leaving the door ajar, Krystal disappeared inside. The cleaner had also made herself scarce, so Brad pushed the door open a little further and peered inside. The club was mostly in darkness, so he couldn’t see a lot, but one thing he did notice was a stack of empty Mythos beer bottles in a bin right next to him. The same unusual brand of beer Teddy Johnson’s fingerprints were lifted off.

  He mentioned this to Dani just as Krystal reappeared.

  ‘The phone number on TJ’s staff card was crossed out, so I’m not sure what the story is there, but this is his address.’

  Brad took the post-it note Krystal held out to him. ‘Thanks for your help.’

  As she closed the door on them and they went back to their car, Brad glanced at Dani and raised both eyebrows. ‘I don’t think her name is Krystal, do you?’

  Dani smirked. ‘No, and I don’t think she’s in charge either. She’s a working girl if ever I saw one.’

  • • •

  By pure fluke, Dani scored a parking spot opposite Teddy – aka TJ – Johnson’s apartment block in Mara Street, Darlinghurst. On the pavement in front of them, a homeless man sat on a piece of cardboard, leaning against the wall of a building. Next to him lay an old pitbull. He noticed Brad’ s gaze and held up a cardboard sign asking for money to feed Yoda. Brad assumed that was the dog.