People milled everywhere, those still talking and celebrating the gig mingling with normal Valley traffic wandering from club to club.
I shoved Stuart ahead of me, hurrying him to the end of the mall. We passed by the police booth, which was manned by four cops now. It gave me some small peace of mind as we stopped at the taxi rank. Unbelievably, though, the rank was empty.
‘There’ll be one here in a minute,’ I assured Stuart. ‘It’s Saturday night.’
My phone rang. It was Fiona Bligh.
‘Fiona, I’m just in the middle of some—’ ‘Listen!’ she said, cutting across me. ‘This is strictly off the record, you understand?’
‘Uh?’
‘The feds have got a joint operation going with our local spooks. There’s been some kind of push by US organised crime—a west coast gang called the KAs—to buy up property in Australia, and they’re keeping an eye on it.’
‘Why would a US gang want property in Australia?’
‘The taskforce think they’re trying to get a foothold in here but our local OC—boys like Viaspa—don’t want outside interests competing with them. They’ve got enough trouble with the Triads and others.’
‘So it is possible that I saw US bangers at the land developers meeting?’
‘It’s possible, yes. It’s been flagged that something was going down in Brisbane this weekend. The spooks have got people on the ground.’
‘Anything else?’
‘There’s some background to it you should know. Narcotics intercepted a big cache of drugs eighteen months ago in South Australia. The drugs were being distributed by Viaspa and Ash Machete.’
‘Oh?’
‘But they think the supplier was actually the KAs. These guys have had a dry run at working together before.’
‘I don’t get it. At the meeting the KAs had guns on Viaspa and Machete. They didn’t look much like happy business partners.’
‘That’s where it gets grey for us too. Maybe they’ve fallen out over something. Happens all the time. You’re talking about a high level of paranoia and mistrust here. Maybe one owes the other money from that drug haul?’
‘Listen, thanks . . . I owe you for this. I promise I’ll take this information to my grave.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Sharp. I’d advise you to get home. I’ve passed on your information—as an anonymous source. Let the spooks and feds take care of it. Don’t complicate things.’
‘On the plane in the morning.’
‘Well, I’ll see you straight after you land, so we can talk about Grominsky.’
‘Deal.’ I hung up and turned back to Stuart.
His phone beeped before he could ask me what was going on and he quickly read the text. ‘Fuck.’
‘What?’
‘It’s Juanita. She can’t find Slim.’
‘What do you mean she can’t find him? How about Bon Ames and Dragstrip?’
Stuart called her and fired off a bunch of questions.
I could hear the near-scream in her voice from where I was standing.
‘Stay cool, we’re coming.’
‘What?’ I demanded.
‘She went to Slim’s dressing room but he’d gone.’
‘Where was Dragstrip?’
‘At the back door with Bon Ames. Little Paolo had told him Ames wanted to see him.’
‘Little Paolo?’
‘Yeah. According to Dragstrip he came back to the dressing room when the gig finished. He and Slim were in there alone and then Paolo came and told Dragstrip to go see Bon Ames. But when Juanita got to the dressing room there was no one there. Do you think they’ve just gone to get a coffee or have a drink next door maybe?’
Something dark and terrible gripped my stomach and twisted it so hard I thought I was going to be sick. KAs. Could that stand for Kings and Aces, the gang that Slim used to run with?
If I was right and Machete and Viaspa had decided they wanted to sever their business relationship with the KAs, what better way to declare war than by assassinating the KAs’ greatest success?
‘Tara, what is it?’ Stuart demanded. ‘You look awful.’
‘It’s not you,’ I whispered.
‘It’s not me what?’
‘It’s not you who’s in danger. It’s Slim.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come on!’
I turned and ran up the mall as fast as the crowd would allow. The door to the club was closed and Viaspa and Machete were standing outside, still flanked by their boys.
‘Tara Sharp,’ called out Viaspa. ‘Everything alright?’
His aura glowed its usual unpleasant luminescent yellow around him and his smile was pure and utter evil. He knew I was on to him, I could see it in his face. His hand gesture was almost invisible but it was all his boys needed to come for me. Three of them, hands loose by their sides.
I took them by surprise, running straight at them, bowling them apart like they were oversized skittles.
They catapulted into their employers as I bolted up to the door, calling to Stuart to follow me. I hammered like a crazy woman to be let in. Brendan unlocked the door and stood aside as Stuart and I pelted up the stairs.
‘Lock it quickly!’ I yelled at Brendan.
‘What the hell . . . ?’ I heard him saying.
I didn’t stop for a confab, nor did I stop to talk to Juanita, who stood outside the empty dressing room.
I ran right down the corridor to Paolo’s office.
It was locked, so I peeled a fire extinguisher off the wall and began smashing the door handle.
‘Whoa, whoa,’ shouted Brendan from behind me. ‘I’ll go get the keys, if you tell me what’s going on.’
‘No . . . time,’ I panted.
‘Sharp!’ bellowed Bon. He shouldered past Juanita, Brendan and Stuart. ‘What the fuck?’
I held the extinguisher high as though I was going to take a swipe at him. ‘Stuart, take the others back into the club. Now!’
They mustn’t have liked the look of Bon’s tensed back, because they did as I asked without protest.
As soon as they’d gone from earshot, I said, ‘Paolo’s taken Slim.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘He’s working for Viaspa and they want to piss the KAs off.’ I got up in Bon’s face. ‘Listen, I know why you’re really here in Brisbane, and frankly I don’t give a shit. But you will help me find Slim or I’ll spill everything I know to the feds.’
His normal mask of disinterested calm flickered. ‘What do you know?’
‘I was in the hotel today, in the AV room. I heard everything that was said at the meeting. I’ve recorded it and it’s ready to go straight to the cops if anything happens to me.’ I’d tried this bluff once before with Viaspa and it had worked. It would always work because the other party had no way of knowing if it was truth or lie.
‘You’d go to the cops about what?’ he hissed.
‘About the minister you’re paying off so your land development can go ahead. I’m guessing you guys want the KAs on board for this little venture, but I’m telling you, if Viaspa kills Slim, the gloves are off.’
He drew in a breath. ‘You’re messing with trouble, Sharp. You know that?’
I put on my most stubborn face. ‘And you’re messing with my clients. Like I said, I don’t care about your plans to launder drug money and get rich, but you will not do it at the expense of my client.’
He stared at me for a long, awful moment and I saw my life hanging in the balance as he weighed the pros and cons.
Then he wrenched the extinguisher from my hands and lifted it into the air. I covered my head as he brought it down. It swished past my ear and broke the handle clean off the door.
Shit. I pushed it open and ran in, frantically searching for any clue which would tell me where Paolo had taken Slim.
I quickly noticed an overpowering smell of rubber and petrol. I pulled out my phone and called Inigo.
‘Tara?’
‘I can smell rubber and petrol.’
‘That is to be expected,’ she said serenely. ‘Your reading told me that.’
‘I know, but what does it mean? Is it real?’
‘What you can smell is your psychic senses attuning to your destiny. You need to work this out. I can do no more at this point.’ She hung up.
My instinct was to throw my phone against the wall. Instead I looked at Bon. ‘If I said rubber and petrol to you what would you think of around here?’
He looked at me as if I was crazy. I brushed past him and ran down the corridor onto the dance floor where Brendan, Juanita and Stuart had gathered.
‘Guys, if I said rubber and petrol to you, meaning a place close to here, what would you think of?’
They stared blankly for an instant then started flinging ideas at me.
‘Wickham Street traffic lights,’ said Stuart. ‘Cars are always dragging each other off there.’
‘The servo down the other end of Brunswick Street,’ said Juanita. ‘There’s a tyre shop next door.’
‘McWhirters,’ said Brendan.
I stared at him. ‘I know that name. What is it?’
‘It’s a car park in the next street. It always stinks of burned rubber and petrol fumes.’
‘Does Paolo park there?’ I asked.
‘Sometimes,’ he said.
‘Take me there quickly.’
‘But I’ve got to finish up,’ Brendan protested.
‘Now!’ I pleaded. ‘For Slim. Please!’
He glanced around. ‘Okay. The back door is quicker.’
‘Fine.’ That meant we didn’t have to go past Viaspa again.
Stuart tried to convince Juanita to go home but she was having none of it, so the five of us hurried into the alley. One direction led to a wall with a warehouse-like door.
Brendan explained, ‘We keep that door locked so people can’t hang around outside the back door. It exits onto Wickham.’
‘This way’ turned out to be a crooked lane wide enough to fit one car.
‘We came along here in the taxi,’ said Juanita.
Brendan led as we hurried along until we hit the traffic on Wickham, where we turned right, then right again towards McWhirters. The converted nightclub next door had a queue outside and the bouncers were busy rubber-stamping arms for pass-outs.
The clock on the club turret said it was after midnight as we rounded into the car park building. Only a few cars were left on the lower level.
‘Let’s split the floors,’ I said. ‘Bon and I’ll take the top floor. Stuart and Juanita take the first floor, Brendan take the ground floor and basement. Keep your phones handy.’
‘I don’t have your number,’ said Brendan.
I quickly gave it to him and then we split up.
Bon stared at me as the lift took us up. ‘Were you really there today?’
I nodded, feeling wary, wishing I’d brought some pepper spray to Brisbane. The only thing I could think of in my handbag that might be good as a weapon was Inigo’s thermos flask.
‘You saw something you shouldn’t have, Tara. Not gonna lie to you.’
I shrugged. ‘Not the first time.’
He bared his teeth but I bolded him out.
‘Like I said, Bon, I don’t really care what you and yours are planning as long as you leave me and my clients out of it. I’m not going screaming to the cops unless I have to. It’s not my style.’
‘What is your style, Sharp?’
I gave it some fake consideration, hoping the distraction of the conversation would last until we got out of the lift. I reckoned I could outrun him, but at close quarters, I was a goner. ‘Simple. I do the right thing by the people that hire me.’
His scowl faded a little. ‘I’ll have to remember that.’
The door pinged and I was out of there quicker than a lightning strike. It only took a few minutes to determine that Slim and Paolo weren’t on that floor. Only a half dozen cars were parked over on the Ann Street side; other than that the level was deserted.
Brendan rang just then. ‘Nothing here except a couple making out in their car.’
‘Listen, thanks. Go home or back to the club if you have to. Really appreciate your help.’
‘Nah. If Slim’s in trouble, I might hang around. He’s a good guy.’
‘Fine. Can you watch the exit down there?’
‘Sure.’
He hung up and Juanita rang. ‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘Can you go down and wait with Brendan?’ I asked.
‘We’re still looking.’
‘Be careful, Tara.’
‘Always.’
‘We’re still looking at what?’ said Bon as I slipped my phone back in my pocket.
‘There.’ I pointed to a gate that led to a narrow overpass leading into the building on the other side of the street. The gate was chained up. ‘What’s that?’
‘Dunno,’ said Bon. ‘Not my city.’
I called Stuart and asked him.
‘McWhirters used to be a department store that spread over two blocks. It’s joined by that overpass.’
‘What’s on the other side?’
‘Yuppie apartments.’
‘Thanks.’
I walked over to the gate and rattled the chain. The padlock fell open. It had been left open either deliberately or by accident because someone was in a hurry.
My sense of urgency escalated. ‘Come on!’
I pushed past the gate, sprinted across the enclosed bridge and into the darkened landing on the other side.
The only light was the exit sign over the emergency stairs. It was enough to illuminate Paolo and Slim; Slim was bent back over the railing, about to fall or be dropped. He was gagged and his arms were tied. His moans of terror were like a knife in my gut.
‘Stop!’ I shouted.
Bon pulled up alongside me, sucking in noisy breaths.
‘Let—him—go—arsehole!’
But Paolo was well past backing down. ‘Piss off or I’ll do you next.’
It was then I saw the pistol in his free hand.
‘You really think the cops won’t know you’ve committed murder?’ I asked. ‘They’ll be all over you.’
‘He’s not gonna talk. Which only leaves you.’
‘Bon?’ I said.
‘He’s right about that, Sharp. I don’t talk to cops.’
‘But this is murder. You can’t keep that a secret.’
Bon didn’t reply.
‘This is Ash Machete’s call, isn’t it? He and Viaspa want to send a message to the KAs to get out of town?’
‘You know a lot for a lesbo,’ said Paolo. He was breathing so heavily it was like he’d sucked all the oxygen from the air. ‘Guess it’ll be two for the price of one.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a shadow creeping up the stairs and instinctively I knew I had to keep Paolo looking my way. ‘Ames won’t let you do this. His people want the property deal to go ahead. They want the KAs here.’ I didn’t know that for a fact, but I was guessing the bikies knew Viaspa and Machete might be stacking the deck in their favour. Maybe that’s why Ames had agreed to be bodyguard. Keep an eye on Stuart as well.
‘You think I’m gonna talk our business with you, bitch? Or that bikie fuck?’
What was with everyone calling me ‘bitch’? And Bon Ames didn’t much like being called a bikie fuck, either. He growled like a bloody great bear.
‘She’s right, you fat bastard,’ said the bikie. ‘Don’t wreck our deal.’
‘You want those Yankee scum here on our turf?’ said Paolo incredulously.
‘They got connections we need. Machete knows it. He’s trying to choke them out so we all have to use his supplier.’
Little Paolo levelled the pistol at us and then lifted Slim with his other hand, ready to drop him down three flights. ‘Who knew a dumb cheater could be so smart? Too fucking late. This prick’s gonna have a nasty accident. And le
sbo’s gonna die trying to save him.’
The shadow that had been creeping up the stairs suddenly hurled forward, taking out Paolo’s gun arm. I moved a second later, diving for Slim.
Paolo let go of the rapper to fight off his attacker but I already had hold of Slim by his shirt.
He teetered against the railing and began to slip over.
‘Bon!’ I gasped. ‘Help!’
The bikie shot out one huge paw and wrapped it around Slim’s wrist. Together we hauled him back from the brink.
The shadow, though a third the size of Little Paolo, went to work and in seconds had the club owner face-down, tying his hands with something.
I got to my feet and found the light switch in the stairwell.
‘Wal!’ I’d never been so glad to see someone in my life. He was looking rough and unshaved, his face half-hidden by a beanie.
‘Grom?’ said Bon.
My security chief gave us both a wink. ‘Call the cops, Tara. See you on the flip flop.’
With that he ran down the stairs and disappeared.
A noise at my feet grabbed my attention. Slim was writhing against my leg. I bent down and untied the gag and then his hands. He was shaking so hard I thought he might puke, so I put my arm around him.
With the other hand I rang Stuart. ‘Get the police. We’re on the landing of the building across the road. You can access it through the overpass on level three.’
‘Slim?’
I looked at the tears streaming down the rapper’s face and the way he was shaking. ‘He’s . . . safe.’
CHAPTER 22
By the time the police had taken statements and told Bon and me that we were free to go it was nearly 4 am. Stuart and Juanita had taken Slim back to the hotel and called a doctor in to give him a sedative.
‘You knew this might happen, didn’t you?’ I said to Bon.
‘It fell to me to protect our interests. Once Machete set a tail on me, we figured they were planning something.’ He wasn’t going to say more than that and I knew it. ‘And a word to the wise, Sharp—stay out of Viaspa’s way for a while.’
Hadn’t I come here to do just that? ‘So you don’t think the police will be able to pin this on him? Paolo’s good for a stretch.’
‘Not a hope in hell,’ he said. He walked off, talking into his phone, and I called a taxi.
Stage Fright Page 23
