Fifteen minutes later they turned into Fort Street and Mike found a park for the WRX. Molly swapped into the driver’s seat and the guys crossed the road at an angle, heading for the front doors of Wild Bill’s further down. Molly watched them go and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
‘I think we’re in the right place,’ Dan muttered as they entered the gloomy interior.
The same barman was on duty, as were the two guys further down the bar. A table near the door had an older bikie-looking guy with a girl, both nursing handles of beer. The girl had managed to create an entire outfit from what looked like a tea towel and she had tattoos and big hair.
The juke box in the back played some kind of rockabilly that Dan didn’t recognise. Further in the back he saw a couple more guys at a pool table, fat guys in baseball caps and work boots.
All eyes were on the newcomers as they crossed to the bar. The barman moved away from the other two guys but didn’t speak.
‘Gidday mate,’ Dan said breezily, reaching for his wallet. ‘Two Buds thanks.’
The barman wiped his hands on a cloth and tossed it aside. He popped the caps on a pair of bottles and put them on the scarred bar with a jolt, slopping a little out of each.
‘Eighteen bucks,’ he growled, putting out a huge mitt.
Up close, Dan could see he was missing several teeth. His gut strained at his black Harley Davidson T-shirt and his ginger mop was unkempt.
‘Discount for spillage?’ Dan grinned, slapping a twenty into his paw.
The barman showed no reaction and Dan wondered if he had been overdoing the Botox injections. The barman tossed the change onto the bar and moved back to his mates. Mike took a leaner and scanned the other patrons. The two guys at the bar were younger, leaner and harder than the barman, with obvious muscles and prison tats. Their eyes had not left the newcomers since they arrived. Both were decked out in black with motorcycle boots and leather vests. He wondered if they recognised him from his previous visit. Neither of the bouncers were on duty today.
‘Nice place,’ Dan muttered as he joined Mike at the leaner. He took a sip of his beer, wondering at the sense of that with his painkillers. He mentally shrugged. Wild Bill’s wasn’t the sort of place you went for a Diet Coke. ‘I love the ambience,’ he said, ‘real friendly. Might bring Molly here for a treat.’
Mike grunted. ‘She like going to dirty girl outfits?’
‘Not so much.’ Dan gave him quizzical. Sometimes Mike’s briefings were a bit scant on detail.
‘There’s a sign right at the back by a door.’
‘”Hot skanks upstairs”?’
‘Close. Just says “Private”.’
‘Sounds dirty.’ Dan took another sip. ‘Maybe we should go have a look.’
‘No need,’ Mike said, watching past Dan’s shoulder.
The Private door opened and a girl entered, her stilettos clicking loudly as she walked the length of the bar. She had a white Gucci bag over her shoulder and a knee length black coat with a leopard patterned fake fur collar.
She glanced at the two PIs as she headed to the door but didn’t stop.
‘Bingo,’ Dan said softly, straightening up and pushing his beer away.
Mike did likewise then paused as he looked past Dan again. ‘Watch your back,’ he said quietly.
‘Where’re you goin’?’ said one of the guys from the bar, approaching with a beer bottle in his hand.
He was the dealer Mike had seen previously. His mate was close behind and the barman was coming around to join them.
‘What’s happening, fellas?’ Dan said easily, still moving but watching them now. He didn’t recognise either of them.
‘I said where’re you goin’?’ the guy repeated, still advancing. ‘Why you following that girl?’
‘We’re minding our own business, buddy,’ Mike told him firmly, ‘so back off.’
The guy turned his attention to Mike. He was shorter than both of them but wide shouldered and with a focussed intensity. The stubble on his head was dark and revealed long scars across his scalp.
‘That right, tough guy? You were in here the other night. You look like cops.’ He sneered. ‘Cops ain’t welcome in here.’
‘We’re not cops, knucklehead,’ Mike growled, ‘so cool your jets.’
The guy’s nostrils flared and his gaze tightened.
‘We’re going now mate,’ Dan said calmly, holding his palms up. ‘How about we all just chill and get on with our day.’
‘How about you shut your mouth.’
Dan’s moustache twitched. ‘I guess I could try…’
The guy realised they were still moving, angling towards the door, and stepped forward aggressively, his jaw clenched.
‘Oi, you stop and listen…’
‘Love to stay and chat,’ Dan cut him off, ‘but we’ve got things to do. Good luck with the careers, fellas.’
That tipped the guy over the edge.
He rushed forward, low and angry, going for a smother tackle. Dan side stepped and gave him a hard shove in the side, using the guy’s own momentum to send him stumbling away. The second guy went for Mike, coming round the leaner with a beer bottle in his hand. The barman also rushed in, although with less enthusiasm than his two mates. The second guy, who was about Mike’s own height, came in swinging the beer bottle by the neck. Beer foamed and sprayed everywhere as Mike dodged the swings and jabbed the guy in the side of the head, knocking him aside and following up with a hook to the ribs. The effort pulled at Mike’s own damaged ribs and he felt a stab of pain.
The barman came in with a huge haymaker that Mike saw a mile off and easily stepped away from. The barman carried on past him and Mike delivered a brutal kidney punch that made the barman howl and stagger away.
‘Let’s go,’ Dan said, turning for the door.
The first guy blocked the door and produced a ball peen hammer from the back of his belt. It was a favoured weapon amongst gangsters. The guy and girl from the nearby table had also risen and were hovering nearby. The guy had a cell phone out and was muttering into it, presumably calling reinforcements.
‘Back door?’ Dan said.
Mike glanced round and saw the two pool players approaching, cues in their hands. One was also carrying a couple of pool balls.
‘No go,’ Mike said.
‘Front door it is.’
‘Come on then girls,’ the first guy said, waving them to come forward with one hand, the other hand holding the hammer ready. ‘Give it your best shot.’
Dan snatched up a bar stool and held it in front of him like a lion tamer, giving short jabs towards the guy. Suddenly a pool ball whizzed past his head from behind, close enough to ruffle his hair, before cracking a front window.
Mike shot a quick glance over his shoulder as the second guy came at him again, seeing one of the pool players cock his arm ready to throw another ball. Mike blocked a hook with his left hand, landed a reasonable cross to the guy’s jaw and snatched the flying pool ball from the air as it headed for his face.
He crashed it down onto his opponent’s head and felt the guy’s knees go, then followed up with a second crack across the temple which dropped him. As the guy hit the deck Mike noticed the brass buckle on his belt, showing a Confederate flag overlaid with a swastika.
The barman came in like an angry bear, big and hairy and growling, arms swinging wildly. Mike dodged the first couple but caught a big paw across the head that knocked him sideways into the leaner. The leaner crashed over and Mike rode it down, arms and legs everywhere, the barman coming in over the top with a roar.
Mike’s ribs screamed with the impact of the barman and he felt the air whoosh from his lungs.
Dan was managing to keep the first guy at bay with the bar stool, and shot a look at the guy and girl who were still hovering.
‘Take a hike,’ he snapped.
The guy snorted and balled his fists. ‘Don’t think so, pal.’
Dan edged sideways to keep them all within sight, and bumped into another bar leaner. This one had a heavy old fashioned glass ashtray on it-clearly the no smoking laws didn’t apply to Wild Bill’s. He grabbed it and hurled it at the front window, already cracked by the first pool ball. The window smashed and glass showered the footpath outside.
‘The cops’ll be coming,’ he told his opponents, keeping the stool up.
‘Not soon enough for you,’ the first guy said. ‘It’s hammer time.’
Dan grimaced. ‘Really?’
The older guy charged in, grabbing at the bar stool with one hand and throwing a punch with the other. Dan yanked the stool sideways and let go, pulling the guy off balance. He slapped the punch away and gave him a double left jab to the face, grabbing the front of the guy’s T shirt and jerking him forward and down. Dan had a decent right hook and put it to good use, planting one on the guy’s jaw and dropping him to the floor.
He pulled up and sensed rather than saw the hammer slicing the air towards him. He ducked and took the handle of it across the back of his head, hard enough to bring a burst of pain to his skull. He staggered sideways and tripped over the guy he’d just dropped, who now grabbed at his legs.
Mike was stranded beneath the crushing weight of the barman, foul breath in his face and spit flying from the guy’s rancid mouth. He struggled to get his hands free but the best he could do was wriggle and grunt. The barman got a hand to Mike’s throat and seized hold.
Dan tripped further, got his left foot free and kicked backwards, feeling it connect with something soft. The fallen guy grunted and let go of his other leg. The first guy slammed him in the ribs with a hook, and Dan pushed away, seeing Mike in trouble on the floor.
The first guy was hard on his heels with the hammer raised when Dan stumbled into a bar leaner and caught himself with both hands, steadied himself and slammed his left elbow back.
The first guy had the hammer raised above his head for a fatal blow, and took the hard elbow straight in the throat. He gasped and dropped the hammer, grabbing at his throat with both hands and gaping like a stranded fish. Dan whirled and buried his right in the guy’s gut, steadied himself again and dragged an uppercut off the floor, blasting straight up and under the guy’s jaw. The guy fell backwards and Dan stood over him, breathing hard.
‘Break it down,’ he muttered, before scanning for threats.
The two pool players were still hovering, cues raised but not committing themselves just yet. Dan snatched up the fallen hammer and jabbed it at them.
‘Stay back!’
He stepped over to where the fat barman was on top of Mike, throttling him. Dan cocked the hammer and let fly, smashing the barman across the side of his knee. The guy let out a yelp and jumped, trying to get to his feet. Dan slammed a kick between his legs from behind, hitting pay dirt and flattening it like a roller on landfill.
Mike got a hand free and tried to heave the barman off him. Dan grabbed the guy’s collar and dragged him off, allowing Mike to scramble to his feet.
The second guy was up now, bleeding from a split on his head but getting himself ready to fight again. The older guy was also on his feet, grabbing a bar stool now. Seeing their numbers increase, the two pool players stepped forward, their cues ready.
‘Hey! Back off!’ Dan shouted, waving the hammer at them again.
With a wild howl, the second guy threw himself at Dan from behind, getting on his back and locking a forearm across his throat. They staggered around like a couple of drunks on the dance floor, grappling with each other until the guy rammed Dan up against the bar.
The two pool players started forward and Mike turned to them, momentarily forgetting about the older guy behind him. He heard the rush of movement and instinctively ducked, side stepping as a bar stool flew through the air and crashed into the back of his shoulder, knocking him to a knee. He brought up his right and let fly with the pool ball. It bee-lined for the older guy, who watched it coming with a look of surprise on his face and didn’t even try to duck. The ball slammed into his forehead and knocked him out cold, dropping him like a stone.
The two pool players were still coming and Mike grabbed up a fallen bar stool, hurling it at them. It took one across the chest and then Mike was on them both, fists flying and knocking one to the floor with a lucky hit. The other guy tagged him in the face with a meaty fist but was too slow to reload.
Mike snatched the fist in both hands, twisted it and locked the arm, then slammed the edge of his foot across the guy’s knee, folding it in and shoving the guy away. The first pool player was starting to get up with his cue ready, and Mike booted him in the guts, putting him back down again. He grabbed the guy’s cue and whipped him across the head with it, knocking him flat.
Dan found himself bent over the bar with the stench of hops and sticky pre-mixed bourbon filling his nostrils. He reached forward and scrabbled round with his right hand, unable to break the hold across his throat. His fingers found a bottle behind the bar and he flicked it back past his ear, catching the guy on the side of the head. The grip on his throat weakened and he pushed away from the bar, ripping the arm free and stepping away. He turned and sized the guy up, realising he was already stunned and unarmed. Dan tossed the bottle aside to smash behind the bar and stepped in, cracking the guy across the jaw with a solid cross. The guy crashed into a bar leaner and tried to hold himself up.
‘Let’s go!’ Dan yelled.
The back door marked Private burst open and at least three more guys burst in, none of them looking friendly. Mike jumped a fallen bikie and together they raced for the door.
The girl who had been at the table with the older guy was still standing there, idling watching and texting at the same time. Dan eyed her carefully, always wary of crooks’ girlfriends.
She saw his look and smirked. ‘Don’t worry hun,’ she said, ‘I just work here. I ain’t paid to fight.’
He nodded and they burst out into sunshine, hearing a siren approaching down Queen Street and running feet from inside the bar.
They sprinted across the road and met Molly part way, the WRX slowing enough for them to dive in before accelerating smoothly away.
Picking himself up off the back floor, Dan looked at Molly in the rear view mirror.
‘Have a nice rest, did you?’ he asked.
She smiled sweetly and changed gears, turning right at the waterfront.
‘I’ve been busy,’ she said. ‘I followed the girl with the white Gucci bag.’