Without a Doubt

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘Cocky.’

  Roper went to stand up but must have decided against it, because he wiggled on the barstool to get a little more comfortable. ‘I could get you some cleanskins,’ he said in a low voice.

  Bulldust stilled, his eyes changed from tolerating to dead. ‘Stand down, you motherfucker, or I’ll make you. I run a clean shop.’

  ‘Not what I hear.’

  ‘You’ve heard wrong. And even if I didn’t, you’re a torn pocket. Yapping away. Not interested.’

  ‘One hundred cleanskins and sixty–forty split.’

  Bulldust tapped his fingers on the bar again, giving the impression he was thinking. Weighing up the idea. Two seconds later Roper was on the floor, bleeding.

  Bulldust was over the top over him, one leg either side of his body. He bent down. ‘You seem to think you know a lot about me. Know why I’ve got these?’ He indicated the tattoos on his hands.

  Roper squirmed and tried to wriggle out from underneath him, but Bulldust clicked his heels in closer to his hips as if he were urging a horse forward.

  ‘’Cause I don’t kindly to bulldust. You’re telling me bulldust and you’re gonna get the fuck outta here before I hurt you any more.’

  ‘You’ll be sorry,’ Roper said, touching his hand to his jaw. ‘You’ll regret it.’

  ‘Not as much as you will.’ Bulldust smashed his fist into Roper’s nose. Blood streamed from it instantaneously and Roper’s hands flew to his face.

  ‘Fuck you, Bulldust. You won’t get away with this. I’ll report you to the coppers. I’ll have you on assault.’

  Bulldust stood up and eyed him grimly. ‘Good idea. And I’ll tell ’em about your cleanskins.’ He looked at Chris and George. ‘Get him the fuck outta here.’

  The two hoisted Roper up and dragged him out of the bar. His feet caught a barstool on the way past and he kicked it over.

  ‘Watch your back, you tosser. I’ll be coming for you.’

  Bulldust didn’t say anything. He sat on his stool, with his back to the wall, and told Mac he wanted a straight whiskey.

  Chapter 20

  ‘Fuck, he was made on the first night,’ Justin said to his supervisor. He looked around to make sure the door into his office was shut and no one could hear the conversation.

  Andy had asked a couple of times if he’d heard anything about a UCO coming to town and each time he’d told him no. His detective was getting frustrated but that couldn’t be helped.

  ‘He wasn’t the man for the job.’

  ‘Obviously,’ Justin answered. ‘And now he’s been made, Bulldust is going to be on the alert. Bugger, shit and all those other rude words. We’ve fucked it up.’ He banged his fist on the table; he wanted results. Not only did he have Andy on his case, but Craig had rung three times in the last week wanting to know what progress had been made.

  ‘The one good thing is that Bulldust doesn’t know he was a UCO—just a bumbling idiot who made a scene,’ Justin’s supervisor sounded pissed off.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the only good thing. And that Roper is safely back in Brisbane.’

  ‘With a broken nose.’

  ‘In a way, that was his own fault. He went in too hard

  and asked too many questions.’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘Look, is there anyone else?’

  ‘No. I’m not sending anyone else for a few months. Like you said, this bloke will be on the lookout now and he’s not shy of starting a fight. If you’re right and he killed this Bill bloke, then we can’t put anyone in for a while. Not from Queensland anyway.’

  ‘Not from Queensland … That’s it, sir. I’ve got an idea.’

  ‘Spencer, it’s Justin.’ There was no fun and light-heartedness in his tone this time. He was on business.

  ‘Jeez, twice in a couple of weeks. How about that. How’re things?’

  ‘Interesting, to say the least.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘It starts with a murder …’ Justin told him everything he knew about Bill and the cattle duffing.

  ‘Then we brought in a UCO. No one knew but me. He was made on the first night. They turfed him out, but thankfully didn’t realise he was a copper.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Too hard, too fast. To be fair, probably a few reasons. Not all his fault. But, look, I’ve been thinking—we can’t send someone in for a while. Maybe a couple of months. In fact, I’m going to turn my back on this Highwaymen Mustering for a bit, so they think the heat is off.’

  ‘So why are you ringing me?’

  ‘This has to be on the QT.’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  ‘I was listening to you talk about your offsider over there and how good he is. He’s got the bona fides for this UCO job, don’t you reckon? The farming background, the talk, the knowledge.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s got all that,’ Spencer answered slowly.

  ‘Do you think he’d be interested? Can you spare him?’ The phone line hissed quietly while Spencer thought. ‘I’ve got no doubt he’d be interested. He’s going through some personal issues at the moment and this is probably just what he needs.’

  Justin blew out his breath. ‘Great.’

  ‘Anything I need to know? I don’t want him going in blind.’

  How much to tell? Justin wondered.

  ‘You better tell me everything, Justine. I know there’s more by your silence.’

  ‘Right. The UCO got a flogging, and I mean a flogging.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘This John Doe, the coroner thinks he was murdered. And he used to work for the Highwaymen. It’s high stakes, TOB. Very high stakes.’

  Spencer put two beers down on the desk and pulled up a chair. Dave looked up from the paperwork in front of him and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Is this your version of flowers because you’ve done something wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘Showing a mate a little concern. Be careful I don’t kiss you.’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Dave said, grabbing the beer and twisting the top off.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like shit.’

  ‘Do you want to have dinner with Kathy and me tonight? Better than going home.’ He’d been about to say ‘to an empty house’, but he stopped himself in time.

  ‘Nah, mate. Gotta get used to it at some stage.’

  Spencer watched him take a long swallow. His heart ached for his friend but he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do other than just that—be his friend.

  He’d watched the slow decline of Dave over the past two weeks; he’d seen it before with other coppers. Dave turned up yesterday without having a shave, his shirt crumpled. He’d snapped at a couple of constables this morning, which was unlike him. The silly one-liners and jokes had stopped and he worked later and later. His usual passion for policing had disappeared, along with the happy-go-lucky nature.

  ‘I’ve got an opportunity for you,’ Spencer said. ‘I think it’s come at a good time.’

  ‘Oh yeah? I don’t really care too much about opportunities right at the moment.’

  ‘Thought that might be the case, but this will get your juices flowing.’

  Dave didn’t answer, just took another swig.

  Spencer pushed on. ‘I had another phone call from my mate in Queensland today. Remember I told you about Justine?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Dave looked down at the desk and rubbed away the moisture the beer bottle had left.

  ‘He’s looking for a UCO.’ Spencer had to get his attention.

  ‘A UCO?’ Dave’s head came up.

  Good.

  ‘He needs to get a bloke on the inside of a mustering team he thinks is dirty.’

  ‘Is that right? Sounds interesting.’

  A spark!

  ‘Yeah. Want to have a crack?’

  ‘What? Me? As the UCO?’

  Spencer nodded.

  ‘I haven’t got any experience.’

  ‘You’ve been a cop long enough a
nd the most important thing is that you’ve got the bona fides from your farming background. You’d fit in without any trouble.’

  ‘What about Bec?’

  ‘You can tell Melinda before you go. Tell her you’re going under but nothing else. Not where you’re going or anything about the job. If you decide to take it, you’ll need to start slowly disappearing from everyone else’s lives. Gradually. It won’t be forever. Just as long as it takes to get enough information to convict the crew. Might be two weeks or two months. With this type of case I’m sure it won’t be years. But it would give you the space to make decisions. If you need to get a message to Melinda, you give it to Justin and he’ll pass it on to me and vice versa. But only in emergency situations.

  ‘Once you go under, you’re under. New name, new life, new persona, new everything.’

  Dave swallowed and picked up the photo of Bec from his desk.

  Spencer looked away, not wanting to see the emotion on his friend’s face.

  ‘What if something happens to me?’

  ‘It won’t.’

  ‘Ah, come on, Spencer, you know as well as I do that things can happen when you’re undercover.’

  An intake of breath, deep through his nose, and Spencer answered, ‘I know. I’m not brushing this off lightly. I know something could happen, but it’s rare. If something does happen to you, then we’ll look after them. You know that.’

  ‘I need another beer.’

  Spencer got up, went to the lunchroom and grabbed another couple of bottles from the fridge.

  ‘Here’s one I prepared earlier.’ He put it in front of Dave.

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘Ha!’ snorted Dave. ‘What am I not. I want to run after Melinda and bring her home. I want to slam my fist even harder into her father’s nose and break it. I want to go home tonight and bathe my little girl and hug my wife.’ He took a breath. ‘And none of that is going to happen, so I want to be a UCO. What do I need to do?’

  It was Spencer’s turn to snort. ‘What don’t you need to do!’ Looking directly at Dave, he said, ‘Are you sure?’

  Dave shrugged. ‘I don’t have any reason not to. Melinda called last night, didn’t sound like she was coming home any time soon. It’s clear she’s making new friends over there and catching up with old ones. I think she’s there until I either move over there or we go our separate ways. So let’s do this. Like you said, it’s perfect timing.’

  ‘Cheers to that then,’ Spencer said, holding up his beer bottle.

  Clinking bottles they looked at each other, unsmiling but knowing they had each other’s back.

  ‘Down to business then,’ Spencer said. ‘You’ll need to harden up.’

  Dave patted his slightly protruding stomach. ‘What do you mean? I’ve worked hard to get this!’

  Spencer didn’t crack a smile. ‘This is serious stuff. Tomorrow, go and shave your head and start growing a beard. You need to change your appearance. I’ll get some coloured contact lenses for you to trial.

  ‘Put a stone in your shoe to change your walk, and concentrate on the way you talk, the words you use. I know a bloke who was from South Australia whose story was that he was from Victoria. Those South Aussies sometime talk a bit different, especially the older ones. He would say padd-dock and bit-a-men instead of paddock and bitumen. That small thing gave him away. He pretended to be something he wasn’t. We’ll keep your story as close to your own as we can. You’ll keep your name.’

  ‘Keep my name? But what if someone realises there’s a copper with the same name?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Look, all your details will disappear off the police records. When you go under, you won’t exist to the police any more. It’ll be as if you were never a copper. I thought we could change Burrows to Barrows and then it’s down to the pronunciation.’ He shrugged. ‘Reckon that’s the go. Very close, but not the same.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You’ve got a bit of time to get your head around it all. Probably six months or so. Get outside. Get some brown into your skin. Go dig a few fence holes. Get a six-pack. If you’re going to go into a mustering team, you’ll need to be fit and look the part.’ He paused. ‘My understanding is these boys play rough.’

  Chapter 21

  Dave was dressed in a singlet and denim shorts that showed off his legs. Even though his stomach had grown soft with the deskwork, his leg muscles were defined from all the walking he did.

  His head was bald and he had a four-day growth on his chin. What had shocked him that morning when he’d looked in the mirror was that his sideburns were beginning to go grey. He wasn’t sure he was ready to go grey yet.

  His stubble was as itchy as hell and every so often he had to stop sawing and scratch. He felt like a dog with fleas!

  The sun was beating down strongly and what he really wanted to do was take a break, but that wasn’t an option.

  This morning, early, before the sun had risen, he’d packed his newly purchased ute with a wood saw, axe, swag, esky full of food and beer and lots of water, and headed out of town.

  Spencer had told him he had to get tough. Not be soft. Well, he was about to start and it was a good excuse to get out of the empty house that was screaming at him, full of memories he didn’t want to think about. Their first night in the house, the first time they’d made love. The time they’d brought newborn Bec home from the hospital.

  Bec’s giggles and cries.

  Everything echoed around the empty house.

  Last night he’d talked to Melinda again. He’d already downed the best part of five beers. It hadn’t been a good conversation. But he had talked to Bec. She’d laughed when she heard his voice.

  ‘Da! Da!’ she’d called out over the phone. Dave could imagine her slapping at her thighs like she did when she was excited.

  ‘I miss you, baby girl,’ he’d told her.

  ‘Da! Da!’

  As quickly as she’d been put on the phone, she was whisked away again and Melinda was back.

  At the thought of his wife, Dave swung the axe extra hard. As it hit the solid timber it jarred his hands all the way up his arms and into his shoulders. He wanted to swear. Instead he wrenched the head out and swung it again.

  Thwack! Silence. Thwack! Silence. Thwack! Silence.

  Melinda seemed to be mentioning a single dad more and more often. She’d met him at the playgroup she’d joined. Jaye.

  Jaye was a great dad apparently.

  Thwack!

  So devoted to his little boy.

  Thwack!

  It was a pleasure to see them together.

  Thwack!

  The sound of Jaye’s name made Dave want to chop harder.

  The bush was silent except for the sound of his axe hitting the timber. It was too hot for any birds to be out and, really, he shouldn’t be out in the heat either.

  ‘Three more,’ he muttered to himself. Three more pieces of wood. To distract himself, he started to count his swings.

  ‘One, two, three, four …’ Pause. ‘Five, six, seven, eight …’ Pause. He wasn’t even halfway through the log. ‘Nine, ten, eleven, twelve …’ It took forty-two strikes for the axe to get through the wood.

  ‘One log,’ he said and stopped only long enough to bend down and throw it out of the way. ‘One, two, three,’ he said out loud with each swing of the axe. He imagined Mark’s head underneath the force of the blows then decided that wasn’t helpful. He heard Spencer’s voice in his head: ‘These boys play rough.’ Dave realised he would have to get his head straight too. He couldn’t react the way he had to Mark. No matter how he felt, he had to be able to control himself.

  Deadpan face, deadpan stare. No emotion. Don’t let anything get to you. He repeated it again and again. Deadpan face, deadpan stare. No emotion. Don’t let anything get to you.

  Coming home safe to Bec depends on you keeping your head.

  ‘I am Dave Barrows. I grew up on
a farm out of Northam. Five thousand acres. Windswept Valley. Kicked off the farm by my father. Thought my brothers had my back. Shafted. Don’t ever want to go back. I’m a loner. Don’t trust anyone. I’m mean, I’m angry, I’m sad.’

  Well, none of that was a lie.

  ‘Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two.’ The last word came out with a whoosh of his breath and he swung the axe down and followed to the ground. He sat there, back against a tree, his knees up and arms hanging in between them, his head bowed. His chest heaved with the exertion and he realised he didn’t even have the energy to wipe the sweat that was running down into his eyes. His arms felt too heavy.

  He’d got soft and hadn’t even realised.

  When he’d been in the academy it was nothing to be able to run ten or fifteen kilometres. They were expected to. His commanding officer had always said, ‘How do you expect to catch a criminal who’s running away if you’re not fit?’ Dave had always agreed with that and made sure he was.

  He’d joined a gym and pumped weights every other day. Got on the treadmill and run for half an hour at a time. He’d encouraged Melinda to take walks on the beach with him. Then he’d make it fun and pick her up and carry her through wet sand. It had seemed romantic to her and that’s what he’d intended it to be, but it had been good training too.

  Melinda.

  ‘Fuck.’ He shook his head. Why had he reacted the way he did to Mark? He’d never done anything like that before. Never! What an example for Bec. Thank goodness she wasn’t old enough to know what had happened. Although he suspected Mark would remind her when she was.

  As his thoughts grew louder and louder, he put his hands over his ears, and then laughed at himself.

  It’s your brain, he thought. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Gradually the voices quietened, as did his breathing.

  Suddenly he was able to hear the wind. A breeze had started teasing the leaves on the salmon gums. A rustle behind him made him freeze. Snake? King brown? Could be out here. He listened intently for another minute but didn’t hear anything. Steadily, with no sharp movements, he turned to look behind him.

  A beautiful goanna stood proudly, its tongue flicking in and out, trying to work out what Dave was. Dave didn’t move, just gazed at the creature. The head was slim like a snake’s, but too pointy, while its body rounded out like it was pregnant. The colours and shapes were so defined they looked like they’d been painted on.