They met briefly at the end of a quiet suburban street in the beachside suburb of Bronte for a quick consultation, before converging on their target premises.
‘Nice place,’ Brad muttered sarcastically, dabbing a handkerchief across his already sweaty forehead. ‘Not threatening at all.’
It was 7.30 am and already hot as Lexie stood, staring at the Devil’s Guardians clubhouse in stunned disbelief. A long time ago it might once have been a quaint, neat little cottage, but now . . . Weeds had sprung up, consuming the front yard and the path to the front door was a trampled mess of dead grass and leaves. A wooden fence lay flat on the ground on one side of the house. Rusted guttering hung dangerously from the roof. Part of the front window had been replaced by a graffiti-covered board proclaiming ‘pigs suck’, and a filthy lounge sat in the corner of the front verandah with springs protruding from its base. The place was totally captivating – for all the wrong reasons.
Even though Brad had warned her earlier that the place was a dump, she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Apparently, the club had recently fallen on hard times due to supposed mismanagement of funds by the president, and because of this the astronomical rents in the eastern suburbs had forced them to downgrade from their previous clubhouse. This new place was apparently only temporary. It also doubled as the residence of the sergeant-at-arms and his girlfriend.
‘Imagine living in there,’ Sue Field commented, coming up behind her.
With Lexie’s cleaning obsession there was no way. ‘No thanks,’ she replied, ignoring the violent pounding of her heart. She had to get over this ridiculous fear of everything involving bikies.
Not all bikies are bad, she told herself. Says who?, retorted another voice in her head.
Lexie’s hand went to her waist and found the holster attached to her belt. Gripping the butt of her Glock pistol she pushed down, checking it was secure, and waited for its power to infuse her with a sense of invincibility. Nothing happened.
‘Okay, everyone ready?’ Josh asked.
There was a chorus of mumbled replies as everyone moved off.
The video recorder that hung from Lexie’s shoulder knocked against her left hip as she walked. Her task for today’s operation was to record the execution of the search warrant from beginning to end. This was standard procedure. The recording could later be used in court to prove any evidence found on the premises was in fact discovered during the search and not planted. It served as an insurance policy to both police and the alleged offender, testimony to professional conduct, and it cut down allegations of misbehaviour or conspiracy theories regarding wrongful treatment or being ‘loaded up’. It was hard to argue with visible proof!
‘You all right?’ Brad asked, coming up beside her.
Lexie sighed. She appreciated her partner looking out for her but this was the third time he’d asked. She didn’t want him, or anyone, thinking she needed or wanted protecting.
‘Stop asking. I’m fine.’
Brad pretended to cringe. ‘Okay, let’s move.’
The team of eight detectives soundlessly assumed their positions as instructed, covering all possible escape routes around the perimeter of the property. Four officers, Cakes, Batman, Lurch and Craig Osborne (aka Ossie) made their way around the side, through the broken gate, to the back of the premises. Lexie followed Josh, Brad and Sue, climbing the three broken cement steps onto the dilapidated porch that ran the width of the house. As ordered, she stopped there behind Josh.
Nervous anticipation twisted her stomach. Nothing will go wrong, she told herself. Handle it! However, it seemed no amount of internal tough talk could eradicate her sense of dread. Her sixth sense was working overtime, telling her . . . telling her what? That she was scared? No, she assured herself. It was just her demons running riot, playing havoc with her insecurities.
Distracting herself, Lexie concentrated on Josh Harrison’s back. Standing directly behind him it was impossible to ignore the way his white T-shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and clung to his muscular biceps. Lexie gave herself a mental kick. He turned suddenly, as if he’d felt her eyes burn through his skin. She glanced away but could still feel his gaze flick over her.
He’s just checking everyone’s in place, you idiot.
Of course that was what he was doing. Harrison was running this operation. That’s why he was glancing around; assessing, evaluating, compiling a mental risk assessment, no doubt. Watching his movements, she could almost hear his brain ticking over. When he appeared satisfied they were ready, that everyone was in their designated positions, he gave Brad the nod. Taking his cue, her partner slammed his considerable knuckles against the wooden door, knocking loudly before stepping aside, out of blasting range.
‘Start recording, Lexie,’ Harrison told her quietly.
Obeying instructions, she pressed the record button and pointed the camera towards the door. She willed her hand to remain steady.
Almost instantly, without warning, the front door flew open. A pregnant female appeared before them, rubbing bloodshot eyes. It took her only a moment to realise what was happening. Her expression turned to one of alarm as she took in the four detectives standing before her and her stance became instantly hostile; hands flew to narrow hips on either side of her protruding belly. Her top lip curled back exposing crooked teeth and her face screwed up, causing the teardrop tattoo just under her left eye to disappear.
‘Oh shit! Reeex!’ the girl screeched, her high-pitched whine stabbing Lexie’s ears.
The girl attempted to slam the door shut. The sudden movement almost caused her generous breasts to spill out the sides of her skimpy singlet top. The door hit Brad’s foot wedged in the doorway and rebounded, almost striking her in the face. She shot him a filthy look.
‘Police!’ Brad flashed his badge so close to her face it was in danger of becoming imprinted. ‘We have a search warrant to enter . . .’
A thunderous voice yelled from inside the house interrupting his words.
‘What the fuck’s going on?’
An invisible force punched at Lexie’s heart and she stood, paralysed, as the menacing shape of a giant bikie filled the door-frame. His entire being radiated aggression. Every instinct Lexie possessed screamed at her to flee, to retreat from the intense fear that threatened to overcome her. Thankfully, the logical side of her brain realised that to do so would be committing certain career suicide. This thought was the only thing that kept her feet rooted to the spot.
It’s not him. It’s not him.
She sucked in a deep breath, pointed the video camera in the direction of the angry bikie and forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.
Josh stepped forward. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Harrison from Bondi Junction detectives’ office. We are here to conduct a search of these premises.’ He held up the search warrant. ‘You are Rex Donaldson, is that right?’
‘You know I am,’ he growled, eyeing Josh defiantly.
Lexie examined him through the display screen. There was no doubt about it! This Rex Donaldson, standing right in front of her, was very much like Amitt Vincent, the 180 centimetre wall of solid muscle from the Revolutionaries, the crazed bikie who had almost killed her!
They had similar features, the same stereotypical biker look: the long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, the greying beard and bushy moustache concealing the top lip, the black eyes and weatherbeaten skin plastered with tattoos. From where she was standing the only notable difference between the two men was that Donaldson was much bigger; a moving mountain in fact. He had to be at least one hundred and ninety-five centimetres, and around one hundred and forty kilos plus. And although he didn’t look particularly fit, Lexie guessed he could kill with a punch. He was without a doubt the most intimidating man she’d ever seen – and that was saying something.
Josh continued for the camera, ‘You are the sergeant-at-arms of the Devil’s Guardians Outlaw Motorcycle Gang. Is that correct?’
The bikie grunted his response, nodding his head, but looked clearly unimpressed.
Lexie watched Josh hand Donaldson the occupier’s notice of the warrant and then listened, observing his technique, as he clearly and proficiently explained the nature of their business.
‘This is police harassment!’ Rex bellowed, turning his head towards the camera. ‘It’s a fucking fishing expedition. You know we’ve got nothing illegal in here.’
Narrowed eyes drilled into her through the display screen and sent chills down her back. Breathe, hold it together. She could feel her hand beginning to tremble. The camera started to shake.
‘What’s with the camera? Why the fuck are you filming me?’ Donaldson yelled.
‘I was just getting to that,’ Josh said quickly. ‘It’s standard procedure to record the execution of a search warrant. This is for both our protection – ’
Josh didn’t get to finish his sentence. Rex Donaldson suddenly charged forward, knocking Brad and Josh out of his way. It happened so fast. Lexie heard shouts, then, through the display screen she saw the bikie advance towards her. She froze, her grip instinctively tightening around the camera as he grabbed at it.
‘Give me the fucking camera,’ the bikie demanded, ripping it from her grasp.
Pulled off balance, Lexie stumbled forward. Brad caught her arm and steadied her just as the bikie hurled the video recorder onto the ground. Glass fragments sprayed everywhere as it shattered onto the cracked cement.
‘Looks as though the camera’s broken,’ Donaldson said sarcastically.
For a moment they all stood silently, stunned.
‘That’s called malicious damage, Donaldson,’ Brad grunted, angrily. ‘Not a good way to start the day.’
The pregnant girl standing next to Donaldson exploded. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are barging in here . . .? You’re a bunch of aresholes . . .’
‘Shut up, Kate.’ Donaldson gripped her arm and pushed her back into the house. ‘Just go inside and let me deal with this.’
The girl opened her mouth to argue then seemed to think better of it. Flicking scraggy blonde hair over one shoulder, she reluctantly disappeared inside.
Josh spoke. ‘I think you’ll find it easier if you co-operate, Donaldson. We can easily get more police down here and pull the place apart if we have to. Is anyone else inside?’
Donaldson nodded, calming down, seemingly resigned to the situation. ‘I’ve got a few mates inside.’
Stepping around the shattered video camera, Lexie followed the others into the house. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes permeated the air. Her shoes squelched against grubby floorboards as they walked past walls spotted with mould and peeling paint. They passed a large room clearly set up for entertainment purposes. It was crammed with video equipment, a pool table, a portable bar, chairs, a fridge, a large TV and circular lounge. It gave the appearance of party central. Everything required for having a good time.
Lexie opened the back door and the other four detectives joined them inside the house. The first bedroom they came to was empty, the bed a mess of tangled sheets, the floor littered with discarded clothing. Brad pushed open the second door. A puff of sour air – a concoction of alcohol, sweat and flatulence – greeted them. Sleeping bags covered two figures sprawled across mattresses on the floor; the room’s only furniture.
Simultaneously, as though sensing being observed, the sleeping men stirred, opened their eyes and bolted upright.
‘What the fuck . . .’ they exploded in unison.
The men were herded into the lounge room where Batman and Sue were assigned to guard them while the search was conducted. The rest of the team moved with Donaldson through the house and out into the back yard.
The information was that drugs were stored in the back shed.
‘We’ll start out here,’ Brad stated following Josh outside.
Lexie hung back in the lounge room to assist Batman, who had begun to record details in his notebook. Being the most junior detective, Lexie was under no illusion as to what was expected of her; stay in the background, keep her mouth shut, obey orders and assist when needed.
‘Can I get your name, date of birth and residential address, please?’ Batman asked one of the men pleasantly.
Bill O’Grady was a smaller, skinnier and almost delicate version of Rex Donaldson. He went by the nickname ‘Rowdy’. He wore an AC/DC T-shirt and grey track pants and conveyed his details without fuss.
Sue Field spoke to the large redhead called Bluey (aka Robert King). He, too, was passive and co-operative although clearly not happy. Lexie, following their lead, took out her notebook and edged towards the pregnant girl.
‘Can I get your name please?’
‘Kate Bushell,’ she grumbled reluctantly, rubbing her stomach. ‘I have to pee.’
Lexie heard a shout from the back yard. ‘Lexie, get out here.’
A flutter of excitement flipped her stomach. Outside she found Brad and Josh, surrounded by the other detectives, standing next to a rusted shed in the middle of the yard.
‘What have you found?’
Brad flashed Lexie a satisfied grin. ‘We have to improvise, so get your mobile phone out and take some photos. You have got it, haven’t you?’
Lexie patted the back pocket of her jeans just to make sure. ‘Yes.’
‘It’s not as good as the video camera but it’s better than nothing,’
Josh pointed his finger inside the shed and turned to Brad. ‘Mate, can you get on the phone and see if you can rustle up another camera? We want some good photos of the evidence.’
Lexie poked her head into the dank confines of the backyard shed. Lurch, squatting inside, shone his torch on a discarded beer carton. Lexie saw a number of miniature, clear re-sealable plastic bags spread across the bottom of the cardboard box. They were filled with what appeared to be a white powdery substance. Ice, cocaine, heroin? She began shooting pictures of the drugs in situ from different angles. Lurch waited until she’d finished, then picked up the box and placed it on the grass outside, lining up the bags across a dark sheet of plastic.
It was only once the box was in the morning sunlight that she noticed Rex Donaldson’s name was clearly printed in black felt pen, on the side of the cardboard. Lexie snapped photos while Cakes recorded their findings in the exhibit log.
‘Not the biggest bust in the world, but certainly better than nothing,’ Brad said, and then, turning to Donaldson – who was standing motionless and unimpressed nearby – asked the question they were all waiting for. ‘Who do they belong to?’
Donaldson stared at a patch of grass on the ground without responding. Lexie wondered if he was choosing to employ his right to silence or if there was a storm brewing somewhere behind those black eyes.
Abruptly he bellowed, ‘They ain’t mine!’
Lexie flinched and hoped nobody noticed. Glancing up at Donaldson, the sun hit her square in the eyes. Squinting, she moved slightly to the right so he was blocking the glare. She saw a twitch in his jaw. Her stomach constricted.
‘Your name’s on the box and I’m reasonably certain that white stuff in those bags is not talcum powder,’ Josh stated sarcastically. ‘So where did the drugs come from, Rex?’
‘Anyone could have written my name there. I’ve never seen any of it before.’ Rex crossed his arms aggressively. ‘This is a blatant set-up. This shed is so old it’s unlockable. Anyone could have put them in there.’
‘But they’re on your property, Rex. You are the occupier. How do you explain that?’
Lexie knew Josh was trying to get some sort of admission out of Donaldson. Possession was a tough offence to prove and she didn’t like his chances.
For a moment Donaldson again stared at the ground. He appeared confused, then his head snapped up.
‘We only moved in here three weeks ago. Maybe whoever lived here before is the owner of that stuff. I’ve never seen it before.’
‘Keep searching the rest of the place,’ Josh directed the detectives standing beside him. ‘There may be more.’
Donaldson lapsed into a sullen silence.
Realising Donaldson would not volunteer any further information, Josh glanced at Brad. Brad nodded and began to address Donaldson in a formal tone: ‘I want you to understand that you are now under arrest for the possession of an illegal substance. You are not obliged to do or say anything unless – ’
His voice faded into the background as Lexie watched Donaldson’s jaw harden. His fists clenched and unclenched by his side. The air became suddenly ominous, the undercurrent of danger hung heavy between cops and bikie. A hand gripped Lexie’s stomach from the inside as she saw Donaldson move. Darting forward suddenly, he charged at Josh like a raging bull, slamming him back against the old wooden fence, momentarily knocking the breath out of his lungs.
Brad and Ossie pounced swiftly, leaping on Donaldson’s back, attempting to put him on the ground and restrain him. But he fought them off like a man possessed. His behaviour was almost deranged as he thrashed, kicked, roared and snarled like a wild animal.
‘Settle down, Donaldson,’ Brad was shouting, struggling to get handcuffs around his chunky wrists. It was impossible. Donaldson batted Brad away like he was nothing. ‘You’re making this worse for yourself.’
‘Fuck off all of you, just fuck off.’
Lurch moved to assist just as Ossie was flung sideways. He landed on his stomach, at her feet. As Lexie helped him up she heard yelling behind her. Turning, she was just in time to see the other two bikies, Rowdy and Bluey, together with Kate Bushell emerging from the house ready to join the brawl with Batman and Sue in pursuit. Suddenly Kate was upon her, Kate’s arm was flying towards her head. Her hand shot out and grabbed Kate’s wrist just before it connected with her face. Kate kicked out, her foot striking Lexie in the shin. Pain shot through her body and she stumbled forward, almost falling to the ground. She quickly recovered only to have the pregnant girl shoulder-charge her. Lexie was knocked backwards, her back slamming forcefully against the shed, the corrugated iron clanging with the impact.
Shit! Winded, she winced and tried to catch her breath. Her vision blurred. She saw a group of bodies wrestling on the grass. Then Kate was on her again; slapping at her face, pulling at her hair. Mindful of her protruding belly, and the baby inside it, Lexie fought her off with as little force as possible but the woman was a wild cat, screaming and hissing in her face. Sue grabbed Kate from behind, pulling her off Lexie. She was suddenly free.
But not for long.
Donaldson, who’d broken away from Brad, was coming straight at her. She had no time to move. The force of his body, slamming into hers, threw her backwards against the shed − again. Her scream hung in the air as her head cracked against the hard metal.
Swallowing overwhelming nausea she struggled to remain standing. Through a blurry haze Lexie saw Josh take a punch in the gut and Brad deflect a fist. She willed her body to move but it refused point blank. Do something . . .
Voices mingled and screamed around her: ‘Get him on the ground’; ‘fucking pigs’; ‘handcuff him’. She saw Rex on the grass, rolling around with bodies all over him. Sue Field was fighting to restrain the thrashing Kate with the help of two others, Rowdy had struck out a vicious kick at Batman, who had fallen to the ground.
Move, do something. It’s totally out of control. Eight cops against three bikies and one pregnant woman, and they were still getting smashed.
Lexie’s mind finally clicked into gear. Her hand automatically reached into her back pocket for the can of capsicum spray. Staggering forward, Lexie pushed Kate away from Sue. Aiming the can at her face she sprayed the pregnant girl, dousing her with the potent mist.
Kate Bushell screamed like a banshee as she dropped to the ground on all fours. Her hands clawed at her watering eyes as she gagged and gasped for air.
‘Fucking bitch,’ Kate cried between coughs.
With Kate out of action, Lexie ran towards Donaldson thrashing wildly on the ground and drenched him with the capsicum spray. Everyone struggling with him dived out of the way, covering their faces as best they could with hands and clothing.
It took a good few soakings of the poison before it had the desired effect on the tattooed giant. Still fighting and screaming profanities, but blinded by the stinging and the stream of wet liquid pouring from his eyes, they were finally able to restrain him. The other two bikies were now quick to surrender, lying face down on the grass with their wrists behind their backs. They were promptly handcuffed and placed under arrest.
‘Lexie, get the garden hose and wash out your eyes, decontaminate yourself.’
Harrison was yelling at her but she couldn’t answer; could only stare at him.
‘Lexie, are you all right? Lexie?’
She felt faint, woozy and seriously dizzy. Purple dots danced before her eyes. Then her knees buckled and the ground came up to meet her face.