Detective Sergeant Josh Harrison felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His stomach churned, his head ached, and his tongue felt as if it was stuck to the roof of his mouth – the unpleasant, yet too familiar after-effects of one too many drinks the night before.
It was going to be a long day!
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It always did. But those few hours of blissful mind-numbing indifference were not without consequence. And right now, his body was paying that price. And it wasn’t just the hangover this morning. Josh was aware of what happened to cops who drank – the ruddy bloated face, the beer gut spilling over the trousers. Weight wasn’t something he needed to worry about now. He was only thirty-one and he managed to keep himself pretty fit and lean. But in the long run . . .
Digging his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets, Josh stifled a yawn. He checked his watch – 10.39 am. Where was the boss? Their meeting was scheduled for 10.30. He had way too much to do to be sitting in this little glass cell she called an office, wasting time.
Impatiently he drummed his fingers against the mahogany desk that took up most of the room. He gulped a big mouthful of water and tried to block out thoughts of last night, but they kept elbowing their way to the forefront of his mind. The weight of frustration formed a tight knot across his shoulders as, for the umpteenth time, he wondered why he did it to himself.
He’d gone to Tori’s place with the intention of breaking it off. Not that he would call their association an actual relationship as such. It wasn’t. Not as far as he was concerned. He had made it very clear that he considered their liaison nothing more than a consensual agreement to have casual sex whenever the opportunity presented itself. However, lately Tori had gone and ruined it all by broaching subjects of holidays together, meeting his family, arranging dinner parties with her friends. Not likely!
The last thing he needed, or wanted, was a hand brake organising his life, telling him what he could and couldn’t do. He’d seen some of his mates fall under the thumb, watched their backbones almost dissolve in front of him and he’d sworn never to allow himself to fall into the same trap. It was never a pleasant task, but he’d decided it was time to do the inevitable.
However, when he’d arrived at Tori’s she’d opened the door wearing pretty much next to nothing, instantly handing him a drink – there was his downfall – and then another and another until he was pleasantly drunk. Then she had taken full advantage of his intoxicated state and led him into her bedroom. The rest he couldn’t really remember. Still, he didn’t need to be a detective to determine what had transpired.
And now, not only do you feel like crap, you’re consumed with resentment and self-reproach.
He grunted loudly and ran a hand through his dark hair.
Pulling a can of mints from his pocket, Josh popped a few into his mouth to mask any smell of alcohol lingering on his breath. The last thing he needed was the boss getting a whiff and thinking he had a drinking problem. The Health and Safety Command would be breathing down his neck before he knew it, showering him with lectures and counselling sessions on the importance of responsible alcohol consumption. Definitely didn’t need that!
A moment later, Detective Inspector Casey Blair burst through the doorway, puffing and panting.
‘Sorry to keep you,’ she apologised. ‘I thought the management meeting was never going to end and you know how exciting those things can be. Next time, remind me to take a sharp implement to stab myself with. Anything to get out of listening to the drivel . . .’ She sat down heavily behind her desk. ‘Sorry, I’m rambling.’
Straightening in his seat, Josh laughed. He liked his boss, who at thirty-four was considered relatively young to be the Investigations Manager, the person in charge of a detectives’ office. Casey was no pen-pushing puppet who’d never seen an angry man throughout her career. She was a worker, spending most of her fifteen years of service on the front line and in detective positions, getting her hands dirty. She had climbed the ladder the hard way – unlike some – through dedication and determination, and it showed. You could not fake knowledge or experience and along with her easygoing, approachable personality, she had earned the admiration and respect of her staff.
Casey was of average weight and height with ordinary features that put together made an attractive face. Her straight brown hair almost stretched to her shoulders. A heavy fringe sat just above her eyelashes to hide, Josh suspected, a high forehead. Her hazel eyes lit up as she flashed him a bright smile, the kind of smile that some guys might misinterpret as an open invitation by a single woman. But Josh knew better.
Since winning his detective sergeant position at Bondi Junction eighteen months ago, they’d worked closely and formed an easy camaraderie he never took for granted. Their professional working relationship was based on mutual respect and trust. Josh wanted to keep it that way.
Casey let out a long sigh and got straight down to business. ‘Looks like our local bikie gangs are playing up again. Over the past twenty-four hours we’ve received two separate tip-offs that the Devil’s Guardians have a supply of drugs stored at their clubhouse.’
Josh raised his eyebrows. ‘Let me guess. The information has come from an anonymous informant? ’
Casey nodded her head and gave a slight smile acknowledging his sarcasm. ‘We got an anonymous call – came through Crime Stoppers. It was traced to a phone box in Newtown. No CCTV coverage. We also got information from a community source who gave us the same info as our caller; that they have drugs stored in a shed at the back of the clubhouse.’
‘Who’s the community source?’
‘A source Sleeman’s cultivated. He wants to protect their identity and at this stage I’m happy to accommodate his request. If we have trouble getting a warrant, need more concrete information, I’ll reassess.’
Jeff Sleeman was a lethargic sloth who’d been in the job for close to thirty years. He was a career senior constable who would never be promoted and was easily the laziest detective in the office; possibly even the State of New South Wales. Josh had no tolerance for deceitfulness, incompetence or apathy. Therefore, he had no time for Sleeman. He had even less time for his partner, Harry Burgh.
‘I want you to get started on a search warrant application,’ Casey continued. ‘I’m concerned that the tip-offs alone are not enough to get us there. I want you to go over old intelligence reports, find any historical information that can build and support our warrant application. Get whoever’s not busy or tied up to help you.’
To be granted a search warrant they would need to convince the chamber magistrate at the local court that they had reasonable cause to suspect there was evidence in the clubhouse that would lead to or warrant an arrest. Sometimes this was an easy task – and sometimes not!
Josh nodded, glancing out through the slats in the blinds covering the glass wall dividing the boss’s office from the rest of the room. A handful of detectives appeared to be working diligently at their desks.
‘This wouldn’t be payback by the Assassins, by any chance?’ Josh suggested thoughtfully.
The eastern suburbs of Sydney was home to two opposing motorcycle clubs, the Devil’s Guardians and the Assassins. Several weeks earlier there had been a messy brawl between both gangs at a local hotel. The violence was prompted by an issue over a woman. Allegedly, an Assassin groped one of the Devil’s Guardians’ bikie molls and it was on for young and old. The incident unfortunately re-ignited a long-standing rivalry between both clubs, which had apparently originated years ago over the same thing: a woman. Rumblings of aggression and rumoured retribution had been festering ever since.
Josh suspected there was more to this rivalry and resentment than a female. Not that any bikie gang was likely to admit their intense enmity of other clubs came down to more serious issues such as the struggle for dominance of the drug market, or disagreements over drug territory, money and power. Of course only a cynical man would think there was more to a bikie feud than met the eye.
He knew Casey was becoming increasingly concerned – with just cause – that the growing sparks of animosity would intensify into an inferno, resulting in a violent and bloody bikie war.
Josh continued. ‘Barney Magentagitt was pretty pissed off about being arrested for instigating that brawl the other week.’
Maggot, as he was referred to by his club, was the Assassin member who had started the fight between the gangs.
‘He swore black and blue he would make them pay and what better way to get your rivals pissed than to have the cops rabbit through their place. Even if there are no drugs, the Devil’s Guardians won’t be happy. Besides, the man’s Captain Rats. I wouldn’t put anything past him; he’s totally nuts.’
Casey shrugged. ‘So I’ve heard. And you’re right. This could be payback but I have to act on the information we’ve received. I’m not sure the Devil’s Guardians would be stupid enough to leave a load of drugs lying around the place. I’d think they were more professional than that, but we can’t sit back and do nothing. I’m taking it seriously. Delegate someone to start the operational orders, organise the equipment, and do a risk assessment. I want the warrant executed first thing tomorrow morning.’
He would not drink tonight. It was going to be an early start tomorrow.
‘What staff do we have available?’ Josh asked. ‘We’ll need a few of us if we’re going into the Devil’s Guardians clubhouse.’ He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, then instantly regretted it. The pounding intensified. ‘Anything’s likely to happen.’
Casey looked down at a copy of the roster. ‘I’ve let the drug squad know. They have their own operation on tomorrow, so unfortunately they have no spare staff, but everyone who’s down to work will be utilised. We’ll have enough. The only two unavailable are Sleeman and Burgh, who have a court hearing.’
Josh was not unhappy with that news. ‘Is Humphrey B. Bear working?’
Casey laughed.
The nickname Josh had allotted Brad Sommers seemed to amuse everyone except Brad; which was exactly why Josh insisted on using it. He loved to antagonise his friend, derived great pleasure from it in fact. And he was probably the only one who could get away with it. Humphrey, the famous bear Australian children of his generation had grown up with was big, furry and jovial – just like Brad.
‘Yes, Sommers and Rogers are down to work.’
Josh raised his eyebrows dubiously at the mention of the new girl. ‘Are you sure Rogers is up to confronting a bunch of bikies?’
Casey gave him a hard look. ‘Brad assures me that our new detective is doing very well. She’s had a hard time. It wouldn’t be easy returning to work after what she’s been through but if she wants to be a detective she has to be able to handle it. I’m not going to treat her with kid gloves because of what happened to her. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate that anyway. I get the impression Lexie is very keen to prove herself and I intend to let her do just that.’
Josh nodded. Casey had chosen to divulge very few details about their newest detective. She had called a meeting to inform the office of her imminent arrival and had mentioned their new young staff member had been involved in a ‘traumatic work-related incident’, but was perfectly fine to return to work. She further stipulated it would be best not to pry or inquire about ‘the incident’, unless Detective Rogers broached the topic herself.
Of course, Josh had heard the rumours. When a cop got hurt, news travelled pretty quickly along the good old police grapevine. But he paid little attention to office gossip. Josh had no need to know every intricate detail of his colleagues’ lives to enable him to work with them. He preferred to think he judged people on their performance, competence and work ethic. Lexie may have already been labelled ‘sexy Lexie’ by some of the guys in uniform, but his only concern was that she was a diligent detective who wouldn’t crack under pressure.
Josh glanced at his watch, rose from his seat and experienced a quick head spin before the room settled.
Casey gave him a concerned look. ‘You all right?’
Josh nodded. ‘Just got up too quick.’
Casey continued to watch him. ‘You’ve had dealings with the Devil’s Guardians before . . . with the sergeant-at-arms, Rex Donaldson?’
‘I sure have. Trust me, I know what we are dealing with. He can be very . . . volatile, to say the least.’
Concern lines creased Casey’s forehead. ‘At the briefing in the morning, before the execution of the warrant, be sure to remind those who don’t know the man to be on guard. We don’t want to scare everyone, but they need to be forewarned.’
Josh smiled. ‘Trust me. It will be fine. We’re not going to let a few bikies scare us.’