The Robbers

by Paul Anderson

  ‘I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d come and grab me. Surprised it took this long.’

  Brennan was conversational. ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day, Pat …’

  ‘It was the cigarette butts, wasn’t it? Matched me DNA to the database?’

  ‘We know you were there, at some point. Doesn’t look good for you—a man with your history of violence, especially towards police.’

  ‘I didn’t shoot those two coppers. I was there, but I didn’t shoot ’em … What have you done with me boots?’

  ‘We need them for tests.’

  ‘I’ve already told you I was there.’

  ‘But you deny shooting detectives David Gilmore and Mitchell Hunter?’

  ‘Bloody oath I do. But I know what happened. I fuckin’ saw it while I was on me knees with hands behind me head waiting to get skull fucked by your blokes.’

  Brennan side-spied Hendricks.

  Shaw, Rogers, Kelso and Brewer watched from the othe side of the two-way mirror. Brennan began the recorded interview. Read Barrett his rights.

  ‘This is without a word of a lie fellas,’ Barrett said. ‘I’m on parole for armed rob—we all know that. The Parole Board placed me in Croydon. Part of my conditions include working as a spray painter. I work in a factory in that Chirnside Park industrial estate. That’s how I know about the Chinese joint. I have dim sims there sometimes on a Friday for me lunch. Anyway, I’m not in the stick-up game any more … but I was there with a roscoe the night your two blokes got shot.’

  Brennan was still all concern. ‘Are you sure you don’t want the assistance of a lawyer?’

  ‘Mate, I’m prepared to go on—and I could have some really handy info for you guys—but there’s gotta be somethin’ in it for me. If I tell ya, I want indemnity on what I was there for, and a guarantee you’ll leave me alone every time a bank goes off from now on. I’m not in that game any more. Too bloody dangerous now with the Armed Robbery Squad running around knocking every stick-up man this side of Chinatown.’

  ‘We might let things slide, depending on what you’ve got to tell us. But I can’t make any promises … You’re jammed up at the minute, so I’d suggest you tell me your version of events.’

  ‘Extortion, mate. I’m standing over the bloke who runs that restaurant. He turns over a nice bit of business there. Makes good coin. I was there that night for a collect.’

  Brennan sat back; Hendricks jotted notes.

  ‘Right …’

  ‘And your boys show up out of the blue. I’m there havin’ a smoke waiting to pay Mr Restaurant Man a visit and there they are, blue light flashin’. I’m thinkin’ fuckin’ hell, how tropical am I? Anyway, they’re out with guns up.’

  He pretended to hold a gun out in front himself. ‘“Police! Show us your hands! Get down on your knees—hands behind your fuckin’ head shit-bag!” Maybe I could have tried to shoot me way out, but there were two and they had the drop on me. Had me lit up like a fuckin’ Christmas tree in their headlights. I had no choice. I went down, thinking I owe the Parole Board two years so I’m goin’ straight back inside. And then it happened …’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’m down on me knees like a bitch, with hands behind me head when a car drives up real slow. And this is the juicy bit. There were two guys inside wearing masks.’

  ‘What sort of masks?’

  ‘I’ve got your full attention now, haven’t I?’

  ‘What sort of masks?’

  ‘Looked like Rocky Balboa and the Terminator to me.’

  In the observation room, Rogers looked across to Shaw. ‘That information hasn’t been released.’

  Shaw replied tersely, ‘I know.’

  Kelso could hardly restrain himself. ‘Barrett saw them. It was them.’

  ‘Parrot!’ Rogers exclaimed.

  For an analyst, Brewer seemed slow on the uptake. ‘What’s that?’

  Kelso got it. ‘Jesus … Gilmore was saying “Barrett”, not “Parrot”. Then “two guns”. The two gunmen.’

  Barrett continued. ‘One of your boys—the bloke closest to me—didn’t see ’em. Copped one in the back. After that it was all muzzle flash. When the shooting started I did the dandy dollar dash. Fucked off out of there … The next day I read about the two cops gettin’ shot and I knew you were gunna find my ciggie butts and come and get me for a chat.’

  Brennan was after specific details, not convinced. ‘What sort of car was it?’

  ‘A white station wagon of some sort. I only really took notice of the two blokes inside with the masks on.’

  ‘Did you see any of the rego?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘So you didn’t see how this shooting—that you say occurred—panned out?’

  ‘Mate, I was off like a jack rabbit. Heard it happening behind me. I didn’t want to stick around.’

  Brennan played the diplomat. ‘What if I put to you that the imprint of your work boots is being tested for a specific imprint left at the scene? If it comes back as a match, it’s going to blow your story … so are you telling me that the account you have given us is a true and accurate account—or do you want to change your version of events? I’m just giving you a fair chance to tell us the truth.’

  ‘Mate, nearly every tradie in Melbourne wears a pair a Blunnies. I don’t see why mine would be any different from the thousands of other pairs … I didn’t shoot those two cops. What I’ve said is the truth.’

  ‘Well, we’ll have to see what forensics say about that.’

  As the interview wound up, Whitney and Sidwell were conducting a search inside Barrett’s home. In the toilet cistern, Sidwell located a .38 revolver hidden in a sealed plastic bag. ‘Jesus, this bloke is old school.’

  On the hidden side of the mirror Shaw received a call from Sidwell. Shaw hung up. Formulated Athena’s next move. He decided to let Barrett run. ‘Let’s get surveillance on him. LDs. We’ll watch what he does from now on. Roy, Shane, liaise with the dogs. Whitney and Sidwell can pay the restaurant owner another visit.’

  Kelso challenged: ‘What about the two masks? How would Barrett know about that unless Arnie and Rambo were there?’

  ‘Maybe word’s got around. The jungle drums are beating. Barrett’s a smart guy, a career crook; your bandits are the perfect fall guys for him.’

  Kelso tried again: ‘We’ve hit every gig we know, rattled every cage we can. No-one’s heard anything about the Paradox duo.’

  ‘Maybe Barrett has.’

  CHAPTER 59

  The executioner’s axe was being sharpened behind closed doors in Spring Street. At the request of McFarlane, Chambers had called together her Police Minister and Stuart Davis. Deputy Commissioner Clancy, on the eve of retirement, was not asked to attend this time around. The one and only topic on the agenda: the immediate future of the Armed Robbery Squad. The murder of two of its members on a dubious stake-out operation had retriggered alarm bells about the squad and its methods. To add to existing concerns, The Robbers were now placing themselves in grave danger—and, according to inside information, running their own silent investigation into the double murder. Chambers pondered.

  ‘This is a decisive issue. Trevor, what are we suggesting here?’

  ‘Disbanding the squad. Sending a clear-cut message that Victoria Police is a professional and ethical organisation the community can trust. Have confidence in. At the minute we’ve got criminals and detectives being shot down. The situation is out of control. We must move now, before it gets worse.’

  Davis was ready with the follow-up punch. ‘With respect Angela, you don’t want to be remembered as the Mayor of Fort Apache.’

  Kavanagh weighed in, talking ramifications. Politics was all about action versus consequences: ripples and waves in the aftermath of decision. ‘Swinging voters aren’t your only concern, Angela. Vic White won’t swallow the disbandment of the Armed Robbery Squad, no matter how much sugar you sprinkle on it.’

  Davis countered, sourly,
‘The man’s a goddamn war hero to his delegates and constituents.’

  Kavanagh wasn’t easily subdued. ‘He’s got 15,000-plus members on his books. That’s a pretty powerful group that could lobby against us.’

  Chambers ran a stray strand of brunette behind her ear. The rest was neatly pulled back in a chignon. ‘Don’t worry about Vic White. He’s an anachronism. There’s unrest within the union. Not everyone within thinks he’s the right man going forward.’

  Davis continued, his eager words rolling with rich Scottish inflection. ‘There is a way we could do this and avoid any possible political fallout.’

  The premier rested back in her chair. ‘Go on …’

  ‘We place hidden surveillance cameras in their interview rooms and film them brutalising a suspect. We bring them in for records of interview, during which they will no doubt provide “no comment” answers. Under legislation, we then have the option to present them before a public hearing where we can again put our allegations to them, this time while they’re on oath. We lock them in to sworn evidence, then we play the secret footage. Criminal charges will undoubtedly follow. Now, if they make admissions instead of lying about what may have happened, their criminal court cases might not end as badly as they otherwise might. They will be the masters of their own fate.’

  ‘Masterful,’ Chambers admitted. ‘How would you propose to get access inside their office?’

  Davis’ nose twitched. ‘We’ve got someone helping us … Let’s just say an infiltrator has provided us with—among other things—the office entry code and details of the layout.’

  Chambers sat with eyebrows raised. Davis was good at his game.

  ‘Best we not ask too many questions about your inside man,’ she suggested.

  She put fingers to temples. Rubbed gently, eyes closed. ‘Trevor, you agree with this?’

  ‘They’ve had enough chances to change their ways. They’re a blight on my police force.’

  Kavanagh was still the voice of caution. ‘White will play on populist views and fuel public fear.’

  McFarlane smiled. ‘Don’t worry about the media. We’ve found a very reliable chap who’ll spin it our way. 3MR crime reporter Tony Hemmings likes nothing more than to name and shame cops. He’ll lap this up.’

  Kavanagh nodded. ‘Yes. Hemmings can be trusted.’

  It appeared the die was cast. The axe had been handed to the PEC. Chambers sealed the deal. ‘Stuart, keep Russell informed. I want our media advisers ready when Trevor makes the press announcement. I can’t be seen to have had any influence on force policy or management direction … Thank you, gentlemen. Now, I think most of us have a function to attend.’

  Davis left the office with McFarlane.

  ‘I hope they enjoy their last supper,’ the commissioner said with finality.

  CHAPTER 60

  The Palladium Room at Crown Casino was tastefully plush with a dark-blue tone for Deputy Commissioner Jack Clancy’s retirement dinner. Policemen and women, current and retired, sat at nominated tables—most with partners. It was a formal affair: suits and evening gowns required. Crime squad members filled the majority of the tables; the entire Armed Robbery Squad was there. Clancy had been a staunch supporter of theirs: the last of the white men in command. Nearest the stage were the VIPs. Madam Premier sat with no partner. The fact the forty-five-year-old career politician had not remarried after her divorce was a constant source of gossip, and it was single appearances at functions like these that only fuelled rumour and innuendo about her sexuality. On her table sat Police Minister Kavanagh and Trevor McFarlane alongside their wives, and other deputy and assistant commissioners with their respective partners. Shepherd was at the podium, coming to the end of a glowing speech. He’d just dropped in an anecdote, and waited for the last laughter to die down.

  ‘Fitting words for Jack, I’m sure you’d all agree,’ he said.

  The room broke into applause.

  ‘Now just before I leave the stage tonight,’ the Robbers boss continued, ‘I’d like to remind everyone that the Walt Disney exhibition is currently on next to the Victoria Police Centre. I was asked to go and visit the Internal Affairs division at the VPC the other day so I took the opportunity to go and look at all the Mickey Mouse statues—and then I went next door and checked out the Disney exhibition.’

  The room, again, erupted into laughter. A few cheers. Peppered applause. McFarlane and his command team sat po-faced: quite obviously unmoved and unimpressed.

  ‘Fucking prick,’ McFarlane muttered to one of his ACs.

  Jack Clancy could only smile.

  As the pomp and ceremony was winding up at the casino, Stuart Davis led two of his PEC men up the St Kilda Road police complex stairwell. On the eleventh floor he punched in the code provided to Internal Affairs by their ‘inside man’, and infiltrated the Armed Robbery Squad office. His men, lugging toolboxes, made their way to Interview Rooms One and Two. Standing on the tables in both rooms, the PEC techs took delicate mini cameras and listening devices from their toolboxes and began the process of secreting them in the ceiling grates.

  ‘Hide them well,’ Davis said, watching the work from the office proper. ‘We’re about to provide a community service, gentlemen, by ending police violence.’

  About an hour later, inside Room 1262 at their regula ritzy city hotel, Vic White lay propped up in bed with two pillows behind his back, a glass of shiraz in hand. It was a luxurious room with a view—and not just a view of Angela Chambers minus her black evening gown. Storm clouds had rolled across the moon, sheet lightning flashing intermittently as though God himself was taking photographs. The city of Melbourne was about to be cleansed. A naked Chambers lifted the covers and slid back into bed with her own glass of wine. White put an arm around her and she nuzzled against his shoulder. Took a sip. Watched the storm canvas the sky.

  ‘Batten down the hatches. It’s coming …’

  ‘What’s that?’ White asked.

  ‘I said, “Batten down the hatches, it’s coming.”’

  ‘That sounds a bit cryptic … You talking about the weather or something else?’

  ‘I’m talking about imminent change now that Clancy’s gone. McFarlane’s set to shift the goal posts.’

  ‘Stop talking in riddles, Ange. What are you trying to tell me?’

  ‘I’m telling you that the PEC and force command are in bed together. They’ve got plans to clean up the force. They’re about to seal the demise of the Armed Robbery Squad … McFarlane’s going to axe The Robbers.’

  White processed the premier’s words. Seemed dismissive. ‘McFarlane wouldn’t dare. He doesn’t have the balls.’

  ‘He wants them gone.’

  ‘How would he justify it?’

  ‘Unlawful conduct. Too many complaints. There’s been a litany of recent events, culminating with the disastrous Chirnside Park stake-out. The squad doesn’t fit McFarlane’s vision for the future.’

  White put his wine glass down on the bedside table. ‘You’re serious …’

  The rain began to pelt against the glass. A gust of wind shook the sliding door leading onto the balcony.

  ‘As a heart attack.’

  ‘Jesus, and in an election year. This could really hurt you …’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with me. It’s a PEC operation.’

  ‘How?’

  Chambers took another sip. Chose her words carefully. ‘The PEC reckon they’ve got someone close to the squad providing information. I can’t go into their plan.’

  ‘What? There’s a fucking rat in the squad?’

  ‘Don’t know. Someone’s close enough to be providing good intel.’

  White’s gut churned on red wine and vitriol, a culprit immediately springing to mind. During his sip with The Robbers at the Royal at the wake for the murdered detectives he’d seen that journo from The Age drinking with the boys. Playing the game.

  ‘There’ll be outrage,’ he continued.

  ‘You’re not
going to hurt me, are you?’

  ‘I won’t have a choice. The Robbers are seen by many as the last bastion.’

  Chambers sat up. Put down her glass.

  ‘Come on, this is me you’re talking to. Not the media. Not your members.’

  White rose from the bed. Pulled on a bathrobe and stood arms crossed, staring out the window.

  ‘I’ll have to rally the members against McFarlane … and in turn you.’ He turned his back on the window. Faced Chambers. Sat down on her edge of the bed. Wiped strands of her hair from her face. ‘Don’t underestimate the ramifications here. The public backlash could cripple you.’

  ‘I’ll distance myself enough to dodge the flak. I’m only being advised on what’s happening. I’m not pulling the strings … I tell you, that Stuart Davis—he’s a unique individual … He’s got this whole Presbyterian sense of moral righteousness thing going on.’

  White sat forward. Thinking.

  ‘I sense they’re throwing everything at this one,’ Chambers continued. ‘The PEC needs a big success. Bringing down the Armed Robbery Squad would put McFarlane and Davis in the history books.’

  White was up again. Face back to the window. Chambers stood and hugged him from behind, pressing her body against his warm fleecy robe. It wasn’t a condescending effort. Nor a political gesture. She knew White had an affinity with The Robbers. Knew that squad’s death signified more than just the disbanding of the last of the old-style hard-edged crime squads—it signified landmark change. Mortality. Victoria Police was an ever-evolving beast; be it sabre-tooth to toothless tiger as it appeared to some, or Cro-Magnon Man to Hercule Poirot as it may have appeared to others.

  ‘The squad’s had its day. I can’t be seen to be condoning heavy-handed behaviour from men sworn to uphold the law.’

  ‘Come on, Angela, authoritarian policing has been happening since Adam was a boy.’

  ‘Yes, but it stayed under the radar. The PEC will start dragging questionable police behaviour into the public spotlight—and they’ve got more investigative powers than Victoria Police.’