Bright City Deep Shadows

by Graham Storrs

  “Yeah, that. There’s probably someone there who needs to know about it too. You need to type my name into your computer or something. Better still, type Chelsea Campbell or Simon Anning.”

  He went quiet. Then he said, “Would you mind holding on for a moment, sir?”

  “Sure.” I put the phone on speaker. “They’ve burned down my unit,” I said to Ronnie.

  “Well,” he said. “It’s taught us one thing; Kurt Opperman has impulse control issues.”

  “You bloody knew they were going to do that. I remember when you told me to pack, you said to pick up my insurance documents. It seemed weird at the time but I thought you were just being funny.”

  “But you picked them up anyway, right?”

  “No I bloody didn’t!”

  He shrugged. “She’ll be right, mate. It’ll just make the claim a little bit harder, that’s all.”

  “They burned down my home! All because you wanted to prove how bloody macho you are.”

  “Yeah, well, it had to be done. If it’s any consolation, they’re probably over at my place, burning that down too.”

  His complete insouciance left me gasping. “You are a real piece of work. I suppose you packed your insurance docco this morning, hey?”

  “Too bloody true, mate. Have you ever had to deal with an insurance company?”

  I shook my head, speechless.

  “Look mate,” he said. “It’s only stuff. You won’t even notice ninety per cent of it has gone.”

  “Luke?” It was DI Reid’s voice. “Are you there?”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. I was somewhere but it wasn’t a world I recognised any more.

  “Yes, I’m here. I’ve got Ronnie with me. You’re on speaker.”

  “And I’ve got DS Grogan from SCC here. Listen, Luke, I’m sending a couple of uniforms over to Ronnie’s house. It’s probably next on their list. Tell me where you are and I’ll get a car to pick you up.”

  Ronnie shook his head vehemently but I told Reid anyway. Police protection sounded pretty good to me just then.

  “Good,” said Reid. He sounded relieved. “Don’t go anywhere. Just identify yourselves to the officers when they get there. I’ll see you when they bring you in.”

  We hung up and Ronnie got to his feet. “I’m off,” he said. “Say hello to Trevor for me when you see him.”

  “Ronnie, the bikies are running around town burning our lives to the ground. Don’t you think it’s a good idea just to talk to the police?”

  “Nope,” he said. He picked up the rubbish from our meal and headed towards a waste bin. I walked alongside him.

  “But why not. They might be able to catch the people who did it?”

  “They’ll just get in the way.”

  “Look, I know you think you’ve got it all under control but this is getting way out of hand.”

  He dumped the rubbish and turned to me. “This was way out of hand the day they decided to kill Chelsea. Putting a couple of footsoldiers away for arson isn’t going to make any difference at all. Do you know how much money is involved in Debra’s silly little video game thing?”

  I didn’t. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask. Thousands, I supposed, maybe tens of thousands.

  “Well I do,” he said. “I called some bookies and asked around. The game isn’t just Australian, it’s global. So is the betting. Companies like Archerfield organise the gambling through offshore jurisdictions where the rules are very gambler-friendly. My contacts estimate that there might easily be tens of millions in the pot for a game like this. It’s not horse racing or boxing but it’s big, Really big. Big enough that Opperman and his partners are going to do whatever it takes to get their hands on all that money.”

  “But surely we’d be safest with the police?”

  He’d been reasonably calm until that moment but what I said seemed to trigger an explosion.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how many deaths in custody happen every fucking year? How man people die in police vans on their way to the station? Do you think they’re all bloody accidents?”

  Again, I had to ask myself what he’d seen. What he’d done. The strength of his conviction that some in the police might be working for the crooks, shook me. He seemed to see the surprise in my face and sneered as he turned away.

  “Stay if you like,” he said over his shoulder. Again I hurried to keep up with him. “We’re being hunted. And, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from being on the other side of this game, it’s that if the prey keeps moving, keeps its options open, keeps away from traps and tight corners, it might just survive long enough to escape.”

  I looked around the gardens. There was still no sign of any cops. For some reason, in that moment, I felt safer walking beside Ronnie than waiting for my rescuers. Folie a deux, I thought. His paranoia is rubbing off on me. But I also thought, Better safe than sorry.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We found a motel near Breakfast Creek. It was a little pricey, according to Ronnie, but I was happy to go a bit upmarket. I got two rooms – again, against Ronnie’s wishes.

  “It’s just bloody extravagance,” he complained.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sharing a room with you and that’s that.”

  “It would be safer, it would be cheaper and I wouldn’t have to worry about you being garrotted in the night.”

  “Honestly, mate, if I don’t get some personal space soon, I’m garrotting myself.”

  He shook his head in despair and went into his room. I closed the door on my own with such a sense of relief that I leaned against it with my eyes closed for a moment, just to savour the sensation. For days I’d had dark forces pressing in on me from all sides – including Ronnie – but, just for that moment, I could breathe again.

  It lasted about ten minutes before my phone rang. It was DS Bertolissio.

  “Trevor wants me to take you to task for not coming in,” she said. She sounded friendly and relaxed.

  “Ronnie’s being all paranoid about bent cops giving us up to the bikies. He’s got me jumping at every shadow.” I tried to make it sound light but I’m sure she could tell how scared I was.

  “Yes, I’ve just been talking to him. I want to check that you’re fully on board with his decision.”

  “Do you think he’s crazy?”

  She was silent for a moment. “I think you’re in real danger and that we’d be hard pressed to give you the kind of protection you need.”

  “So, he’s not crazy?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “The fact is, any course you take has its risks. I’ve been asking around about Ronnie. Some of the older cops here remember him. From what I can tell, they all think he’s a miserable old bastard but they all said he was a great cop and definitely someone they’d want on their side in a fight. It seems to me that you’re probably safer with Ronnie than you would be with a couple of uniforms sitting outside your house.”

  “If I had a house.”

  “Good point.”

  I thought about what she’d said. “So, I reckon I’ll stay where I am then.”

  “It might be for the best. And, if Trevor calls, tell him I gave you a thorough bollocking, OK?”

  I laughed. “Did Ronnie tell you what we did today?”

  “I told him I’d rather not know – especially if it had something to do with two Devil’s Plaything members found beaten and tied up in a van, surrounded by drugs and unlicensed firearms. Their story is that they were attacked by six masked men who then fitted them up. Ronnie thought that was hilarious.”

  “Did he mention Debra Heinzer?”

  “He said you had persuaded her to join the cause.”

  That was one way of putting it. “I guess you’re up to speed, then.”

  “We’re meeting again in the morning.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just trying to keep you two on a short leash. You seem to have the knack of aggravating so
me very dangerous people.”

  We said goodbye and almost immediately, Ronnie was at the door.

  “Pub,” he said and walked away. I shrugged and followed him.

  We found a little place smart enough to make the pokie machines seem out of place and took our drinks to a table with a beaten copper top.

  “Bit of a dump but it’ll do,” was Ronnie’s verdict. I got the impression he’d have preferred sawdust on the floor and tobacco stains on the ceiling. But I wasn’t really concentrating on the décor.

  “What do you make of Bertolissio?” I asked. He looked at me as if my question itself was a puzzle to him. “I mean, I had her pegged for a straight-laced, by-the-book type. You know, the way she dresses, like she was on her way to some posh church on a Sunday.” He grinned. “And the way she talks, too. Kind of formal. Like she’s reading something she prepared earlier. Who talks like that? Yet, here she is, helping us out. You reckon she’s really good and, with blokes like Reid in charge, it must be a real struggle for her. But she’s putting it all at risk. I just don’t get it. Do you?”

  “She should be DI by now,” Ronnie said. “Why do you think she’s not?”

  “I don’t know. Sexism? Glass ceiling? Tall poppy syndrome?”

  “Bollocks. With a clear-up rate like hers, she should have blown past dinosaurs like Reid, male, female and all points in between. Nah, it’s because she cares enough about collaring villains to stick her neck out but she doesn’t care enough what the brass thinks to play their games. I’ve heard some stories about her that you wouldn’t believe. There was one time she slipped the leash and pulled off an unauthorised undercover op on a jewel thief. Nearly got herself killed. It was only because she got the bastard and Reid covered for her that she kept her job.”

  “Are she and Reid… you know?”

  “Buggered if I know. Every female cop in the service is having it away with half the blokes they meet – especially their bosses – if you believe the rumours. Somehow, I don’t see it in her case. I’m pretty sure Reid wouldn’t say no but I don’t see it.”

  I nodded. “Too good for him.”

  “Mate, you should know by now that all women are too good for the men they hook up with.”

  I felt it as a personal attack. If there was ever a woman too good for the loser she’d taken up with, it was Chelsea. I looked into his eyes for the judgement I knew would be there but he was staring into his beer, lost in some other thought.

  “So, some kind of closet maverick, then?” I said, to bring him back.

  He looked at me as if he knew exactly what I was doing. “We need to talk about our plan.”

  “You mean your plan.”

  “The plan. As soon as Debra calls Opperman, we need to be ready to move.”

  “You mean, if she calls him.”

  “She will. They’ll arrange a meet, somewhere quiet. I can’t make her wear a wire. If he sees it on her, she’s dead. So we’re going to use a parabolic mic.”

  “A what now? I mean, I know what a parabola is but… Oh, right, it’s got a parabolic reflector to focus the sound, right? So we can listen from a long way away. But won’t that need line of sight?” I felt proud of myself for working it out and spotting the drawback. “How big are they?”

  “Will you shut up? I’ve got a bloke coming here to lend us one. You can measure it if you like. The thing is, we need to get to the meeting place first and set up before Opperman arrives. It might not be somewhere we can easily hide and there might not be much time, so I’m going alone. I want you—”

  “What? No. That’s not right.”

  He closed his eyes, the very picture of long-suffering patience. “Which bit isn’t right, Luke?”

  “Well, all of it actually. One, it’s a stupid plan. You have no idea if he’ll meet somewhere where you can eavesdrop on him. What if he picks somewhere indoors, like his own house or something? What if he picks a forest, so there’s no line of sight and some bloke with a load of electronic gear would stand out like a vegan at a barbie? What if he picks a public place but has twenty of his thugs patrolling the area?”

  “She’ll be right. This is not my first rodeo.”

  I ignored that. “Two, this is my show as much as it’s yours. More, even. If anyone is risking their neck, it should be me. And what if you have to climb a tree, or squeeze into some tight space? What then?”

  “Mate, I’m as fit as a Mallee bull. If a limp piece of lettuce like you can climb it, I’m bloody certain I can.”

  “Three, if you’re going, I’m going too. And that’s final.”

  He looked ready to argue for a moment, then capitulated. “It’s your funeral. But, if you trip over your feet or drop the mic or whatever, you could get all three of us killed.”

  It was a sobering thought but I stubbornly clung to my victory. I was going too and that was that.

  We ate, we had a couple more. At about nine PM, a guy turned up with a holdall and sat with us for a while. He looked like an ageing hippie, the kind you still see hanging around Byron Bay – and practically every little coastal town, come to think of it. He had blond hair, full of grey streaks and wore wooden beads round his neck and wrist, with leather thongs on his feet. He showed Ronnie the audio equipment in his bag, holding it open while Ronnie poked around inside. It was so blatantly clandestine, I expected someone to call the cops for sure.

  When he left, we went back to the motel. I was nervous and restless. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, we were going to see Kurt Opperman for the first time. The man who had had Chelsea murdered. The man who commanded an army of over two hundred thugs and killers. The man who wanted Ronnie and me dead. And we were going to try to trick him into recording a confession. I knew Ronnie’s plan was terrible. I knew a thousand things might go wrong. But I knew we had no better plan and that I would be there to do my bit.

  * * * *

  I don’t know how but I fell asleep and didn’t wake until my phone rang at about six-thirty the next morning. It was Detective Sergeant Alexandra Bertolissio.

  “Is Ronnie there with you?” she asked.

  “We’ve got separate rooms,” I said, not quite awake. Then I realised what was going on. “You’ve already tried his phone, haven’t you?” I was already getting dressed.

  “It goes to voicemail. Would you—?”

  “Already on my way.”

  I ran barefoot to the room next door and knocked. Then I knocked louder. I looked around the car park. His car was gone.

  “He’s not here. He’s gone.”

  “Is there a note? A phone message?”

  I’d have noticed something pushed under my door but I went back to look, anyway. My phone had no messages at all.

  “Debra must have called him,” I said. “You can maybe check that, can you? She must have called last night or first thing and the arsehole has gone off on his own to bug the meeting.”

  “To do what?”

  “The plan.”

  “What plan?”

  “Shit! I told him it was a stupid plan.” I explained what we’d talked about in the pub.

  “That is a very stupid plan,” she said. She seemed a lot calmer than I was feeling.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We are not going to do anything. You are going to wait right there and call me if Ronnie turns up. I am going to try to find your idiot friend – hopefully before he gets himself or anyone else killed. Stay there. Keep your phone with you. He might come back. He might call. Understand?”

  “You don’t know where to look.”

  “No, I don’t. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “Then stay there.”

  She hung up. I went back into my room and sat on the bed. It was all my fault, as usual. I should have kept an eye on him. I shouldn’t have believed him. I shouldn’t have gone to sleep. I shouldn’t have insisted on separate rooms. God, what a mess! I got dressed properly. I went outside and stood in the car park, watching for his car coming bac
k. I didn’t even have my own car. I wanted to go out searching for him. If he’d gone out last night and wasn’t back yet, it could only mean his plan had gone badly wrong. Was he dead? Were they both dead?

  Debra! I should phone her. She might know something. She might not even have called him. He might just be out getting breakfast the miserable, inconsiderate, old…

  Debra’s phone rang. She picked up on the second ring.

  “Debra, where are you? Is Ronnie there?”

  “Luke, I wanted to call you but I only had Ronnie’s number. Something terrible has happened. I called Kurt like you asked. He wanted to meet. We arranged to go to Roma Street Gardens at midnight. I called Ronnie. He said I should just go, get Kurt talking, that he’d be nearby in case anything happened. So I went. I met Kurt. It was all OK until one of Kurt’s men found Ronnie hiding nearby. He had headphones and all kinds of gear and it was obvious he was trying to get a recording. Kurt went ballistic. I thought he’d kill us both but he didn’t. Ronnie told him I had nothing to do with it. He said he’d been following me for days. He saved my life, Luke.”

  She sobbed and seemed unable to speak for a while.

  “What did they do to Ronnie?” I asked. “Is he alive?”

  “Yes, yes I think so.”

  “You think so?”

  “They beat him up. Right there in public. He was a mess. Then they took him away. I – I don’t know what they did with him or where they took him.”

  “Jesus. Did you call the police?” She didn’t answer but I heard her sobbing again. “Debra, did you call the police?”

  “I was scared. I’m all mixed up in this. You were supposed to get Kurt and help me get clear of it. Now I don’t know what to do.” She was full-on crying after that. I listened to her with nothing but anger at first. She’d let Ronnie lie for her and save her life and then she’d just abandoned him to those thugs, watched him get beaten up and taken away and not done a damned thing to save him. But the longer I listened to her crying, the more I relented. She’d been scared, terrified. She still was. We’d talked her into this. We’d told her it would all be fine.

  “Have the police called you this morning?”