Rex Donaldson had seen the inside of many a police station in his forty-five years, but never before from the confines of a clear perspex dock. To say he wasn’t thrilled with his predicament would be a gross understatement. He was furious! Clenching his jaw, Rex forced himself to breathe deeply in an attempt to calm his accelerating heartbeat.
He’d been set up. Of that much he was certain. The drugs were not his. Nor did they belong to any of his men. So he was left simmering angrily and wondering who was responsible for planting them on his property. And why?
He pondered the possibilities. They were limitless. Bikie gangs, and individual bikies, made enemies sometimes without trying and without knowing it. In the twelve months since Rex had been placed in the influential position of sergeant-at-arms of the Devil’s Guardians, he’d been fortunate in that the club had run smoothly. Its members had been mostly well behaved, so he’d had no cause to deal with any unpleasant situations – until recently.
The pub brawl with Maggot came to mind. He wondered; was that incident alone enough to re-ignite the bad blood, which had lain dormant for years, between his club and the Assassins? If the lunatic, Maggot, was the culprit, Rex would delight in giving him what for. The man was a thoroughly nasty misfit, a danger to everyone who came in contact with him. Ever since Rex had smashed him for groping Kate, Maggot had been slagging off Rex saying that he and the Devils would pay. But was Maggot really capable of going to the length of planting drugs on their property? Only if Max Croft and the Assassins were behind him, helping him, Rex thought.
The last thing Rex wanted was a bikie war. There were never any winners. Though if he found out another gang was responsible for loading him up he would have no choice but to retaliate. He was the ‘enforcer’. It was his job to maintain the standards of his chapter; to defuse potentially violent situations and keep the peace. But how could his members respect him, where would his credibility be, if he didn’t stand up for himself and his club?
A phone on the counter rang, interrupting his thoughts. No one bothered to answer it. The radio squawked from an old speaker stuck high on a wall. Computers beeped. Keyboards clicked. A printer spat documents into a tray. Blue uniforms in different shapes and sizes, male and female, young and old, buzzed in and out of the room, laughing and joking with each other, debating what to have for dinner, where to go for a drink after work.
Rex watched a young policewoman, the shape of a beach ball, do her best to get the senior detective’s attention. Harrison was his name, wasn’t it? Flittering around him, she asked, begged almost, if she could do anything to help. Rex found her desperation amusing. The bitch didn’t have a hope in hell; he was way out of her league. She’d have to lower her standards dramatically, he thought. You can’t have caviar tastes with a pizza face!
An old station sergeant stood on the other side of the room counting money. His bloated gut rested against the counter, his blue shirt strained at the seams. Judging by the bored expression on his creased features, Rex would hazard a guess he was just waiting out his time, counting down the days until retirement.
Rex glanced sideways at Kate, who sat in an identical transparent cage to his right. She was glaring at Harrison, who stood behind the counter in front of them, shuffling paperwork, paying her no attention.
‘I have to pee,’ she yelled.
‘Almost done,’ the detective told her without looking up. ‘You will be free to pee in a minute.’
‘I’ll just piss on the floor then, how’d you like that?’ Spitting at the door of her tiny cell, Rex watched her saliva land on the translucent wall. The detective glanced up, cocked an eyebrow in amusement, and turned back to his paperwork.
She could be such a bitch – but he loved her. He could also fully understand her frustration. The pissed idiot in the cage to his left had chucked all over himself and the stench of vomit and alcohol was turning Rex’s stomach. It felt like they’d been sitting in this charge room forever. And if he’d chosen to be interviewed they’d have been held even longer. Though that wasn’t the reason he’d refused to make a statement. There was no point. No one was going to believe the drugs didn’t belong to him or one of his gang members. They were bikies. Bikies had a reputation for being involved in the manufacture, sale and distribution of drugs – amongst other things.
Rex shook his head in disbelief. Did the cops really think they were that stupid, that unprofessional, to leave their stash lying around unsecured and unprotected? If so, they had less idea of the running of a bikie club than he would have thought.
‘How much longer?’ Rex asked.
Detective Harrison threw him a quick glance. ‘I’m almost finished processing these charges,’ he said briskly. ‘Won’t be long now.’
Rex studied his hands and worried about what Scud would do when he found out about the raid. Derek Gormley, aka Scud, who’d derived his name from the missile due to his explosive personality, was their president. He never tired of telling Rex that it was his responsibility to keep things under control and he feared that today’s events might be enough to send Scud completely over the edge. The truth was, Scud was not handling the pressure very well of late. The leadership role was an extremely stressful position and had worn Scud down. Some thrived on pressure, some crumbled.
Recently Scud’s wife had left him due to his drinking, gambling and temper. This had led to the president’s increasing absence from club activities, leaving Rex to preside over meetings and be the liaison officer for club business. Club money had also gone missing. Rex suspected it had been used to pay off Scud’s gambling debts but nothing could be proved so allegations couldn’t be made. Rex secretly hoped Scud would stand down and relinquish his position as president, but realistically he knew pride would prevent him doing so.
His thoughts jumped back to why he was here. Whoever had done this would be laughing at them right now. He clenched his fists as he felt the anger build again. It would have been way too easy. Their temporary residence had no security; no cameras, no dog, not even a decent fence to keep an intruder out. The shed had no lock. Someone probably just snuck around the back in the middle of the night and dumped the box in the shed. It would have taken only seconds. He cursed his own stupidity.
You let it happen, now you have to figure out what you’re going to do about it.
The clunk of metal brought him back to the present. The detective had unlocked his cage door and was pushing it open. He unlocked Kate’s cell as well and they were suddenly free.
‘It’s about fucking time!’ Kate complained, waddling to the counter. She picked up her property lying on the bench top. ‘Hope you haven’t stolen anything; It had all better be here,’ she grumbled, examining the clear plastic folder that contained her belongings: one watch, one necklace and a packet of smokes.
‘I’m sure you’ll both find all your property is there,’ Detective Harrison stated, handing Rex a pile of papers. ‘The court attendance papers tell you everything you need to know; your charges, your bail conditions and your court date, which is in three weeks.’ He pointed to the date on the paper. ‘Make sure you turn up or a warrant will be issued for your arrest. We know where you live,’ he added, with a hint of sarcasm.
Rex studied the charge sheets. Being the occupier of the premises he’d been charged with supplying an illegal substance – 6.3 grams, to be exact, of white powdery substance. It had been explained that as it held a much higher sentence than a possess charge, he could possibly be facing gaol time.
Rex could not, would not, go to gaol.
He’d also been charged with malicious damage – for the destruction of the video camera – and they’d all been charged with the usual: assaulting police and resisting arrest.
Rex grunted. ‘I didn’t assault anyone. You sprayed us with that poison, for God’s sake.’
Detective Harrison’s eyes held his for a long moment. ‘You put a policewoman in hospital and injured the rest of us. Don’t you consider that assault?’
Shit. Police protected their own. He knew he wouldn’t get off assaulting a female cop lightly.
Rex dropped his head and read the charge sheets again. ‘Rex Donaldson did assault Detective Senior Constable Alexandra Rogers, a police officer in the execution of her duty . . .’
Rex’s heart rate gathered speed. Alexandra.
It was the only name that could tear him apart at the seams; cause him to want to curl up and cry like a baby. It was his daughter’s name. She’d been named after the grandmother of his ex-girlfriend, Debbie, and he’d loved it. They’d shortened it to Ally. He got a mental image of little Ally, aged two, blonde curly hair and big blue eyes, playing in the park. It had been the last time he’d seen her. The next time Rex had come home they were gone. Debbie had left, taking their daughter and their belongings. She left no note and no trace.
Fucking bitch!
Rex felt the familiar tug of anger and despair. A huge elastic band was squeezing his heart. It never ceased to amaze him that even after all this time the mere thought of his child’s name felt like a spear plunged into his soul.
‘Is everything clear?’ the detective asked. ‘Do you want to ask any questions about anything, your bail conditions, your court date?’
Rex shook his head and looked him over with hard, glacial eyes. Harrison stared back, meeting his gaze with an undeniable steely confidence.
Kate pulled on his arm impatiently. ‘Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here before they charge us for fucking breathing or some shit.’
Rex sighed, looking directly at the cop. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt that girl . . . I don’t hit women. She just got in the way. Can you tell that policewoman I’m sorry?’
Kate shot Rex a malicious glare. ‘Are you fucking serious? Don’t apologise.’
‘Tell the magistrate you’re sorry. He’s the one you need to impress, not me.’ Harrison’s gaze remained on Rex. ‘Now you’d better go. Your mates are waiting for you outside.’
Kate grunted, grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the station.