I knew they wouldn’t get away with this, Cait thought to herself, a warm, happy glow radiating inside her, fueled by the knowledge that her abductors had finally been captured.
“Yeah, sure Dad. We really do have something to celebrate. Finally looks like we’re moving toward getting closure on this.”
Jools looked on, her thoughts wandering, uncertainty creeping into her consciousness. She didn’t want to rain on Cait’s parade, but at the same time she didn’t want Cait to get too carried away. It was reassuring that Boss-man and Frog had been detained, but at the same time Jools had a foreboding sense of unease. She could feel it. There was something wrong, but she couldn’t put a handle on it, however in the euphoria of the moment Jools went against her good judgment and let her inner warnings slip by to the keeper.
“Yes Cait, let’s all make merry. Hopefully this’ll come to a quick conclusion.”
Cait woke screaming, scared out of her wits, her heart beating so hard and fast that her temples were pounding. She’d been having a violent, frightening nightmare.
That was terrifying; all too real and alarming to be a vision. Cait had been shocked into consciousness by what she had just seen and was recalling the horror in vivid detail. No, it definitely wasn’t a vision, it can’t have been; visions are controllable, not horrifying like that.
The cobra had forced itself upon her again, and with a vengeance. The beast had slithered back into her head one more time, threatening her, attacking her, except this time it had morphed into pure evil, driven by a force that could only have emanated from the very bowels of the Underworld.
Jools had been sleeping lightly and was so interconnected with Cait’s distress that out of the blue she sat bolt upright in bed, gathered her thoughts in a millisecond, and rushed into her daughter’s bedroom. She was confronted by an atmosphere as harsh and cold as if a polar wind had blown through Cait’s room, and the icy menace was still there, circling around like a wild beast about to pounce, leaving a frigid calling card on everything it touched. And there was Cait, in the middle of an unseen spinning vortex, being carried along as if she was a young defenseless child, helpless to escape the gelid evil that was encircling her and sucking her in.
“Cait,” yelled Jools in a harsh, low guttural voice, calling out from somewhere deep within the back of her throat. Jools spat out the words and pointed both hands at the shimmering vortex surrounding Cait, grabbing hold of it, throwing it off her daughter, freeing Cait from the clutches of the evil that had hold of her.
Jools rushed over to her daughter, pushing the few remnants of evil aside that lingered like a bad smell in the room, and threw both arms around Cait in a protective, motherly hug.
“Cait, Cait, it’s Jools. I’m here for you. Come back to us,” called Jools with a soft, smooth lilt to her voice. She had fleetingly crossed over to the Otherworld, for a few seconds or an hour, it may have been both, and dragged her daughter’s very self ever so gently back to the world of the living, the world where her physical presence resided.
Cait felt herself settle as she melted back into the reality of the present and gave in to her mother’s inviting, protective embrace. She relaxed in the warmth of Jools’s aura, allowing its soothing, healing properties to put up a protective field against the dark evil that had just invaded her.
“It’s okay Cait, just imagine yourself floating in a warm bath of goodness and light. Cast off what took control of you and grow from this experience. You’re stronger than whatever it was that tried to invade your soul. Learn and grow from this, Cait.”
“Mum, like, it was frightening. Even worse—it was terrifying. The cobra came back. But this time it was more powerful than me. I couldn’t control it like before.” Cait felt an involuntary shiver run up her spine as if the evil beast was whispering, hissing ever so quietly to her: “I’m coming to get you. Look out.”
As much as Jools hated doing it, she took her daughter’s head in both hands, turning her head toward her, and said, “Cait, you need to get over this. Use your vision to grow and become strong—stronger than the cobra. You can do it. You’ve conquered your fears before, so do it again, girl.”
Jools felt uneasy about where Cait’s latest vision was taking her, as she also had a similar feeling of disquiet about it, but she couldn’t let on to her daughter. If it was as Jools intuitively felt and this wasn’t the end of it, but rather if it was more of a warning—I’m coming to get you—then Cait had to be on top of things and ready to face whatever was potentially lurking around some hidden corner, or she could be in big trouble.
“Be open to whatever the Otherworld tells you about this, Cait. I feel it’ll come in a vision. If it does, listen to your grandmothers. They’ll guide you.”
“G, I need to give you and Cait a heads-up about the bust at the Warlocks’ property the day before yesterday.” Kylie was on the phone with G—again—and she had just requested that he bring Cait into the mix, so G had dialed Cait and then put the three of them on a conference call.
“I just got off the phone with Irish and it looks there’s been some major passing the buck regarding the outcome of the bust among the brass involved in the raid, as it didn’t go according to plan.”
“So, what’s that mean?” asked Cait. She was curious but not concerned. She couldn’t give a shit about the cops. Sorenson had been a prick since day one, so if he copped any flak from within, well, he deserved it.
That was karma.
“Well, the raid was a total cock-up,” continued Kylie. “Apparently Sorenson is currently anything but the flavor of the month in the force at the moment, with everyone involved in the raid ducking cover. It appears that he’s currently the sacrificial lamb about to be offered up for slaughter by the senior players in the game.”
“What, the cops raid the Warlocks’ property and bring seven of them to justice, and it’s regarded as a cock-up? What do you mean?” questioned G.
“Well, it’s not as clear cut as all that. Yes, you’re correct, seven Warlocks were brought into remand after the raid, but unfortunately the cops found nothing incriminating. A small amount of personal-use drugs, but nothing to warrant such a large raid and certainly nothing substantial enough to charge most of the bikies with, so the cops have had to let them go.”
Kylie’s last comment hung in the air like a brick on a string, waiting to drop on the first person who commented.
“That can’t be,” said Cait urgently, her stomach currently somewhere just above her ankles. “What about my kidnappers—Frog and Boss-man? Them too? Have they been let go with the others?”
“No Cait, that’s the good news. Frog’s about to be sent back to the Northern Territory because he broke bail, so he’ll be kept in jail until his trial, and Boss-man, well he’s being held in remand on a charge of possession with intent to sell nine bags of crystal meth and a bag of twenty-odd MDMA tablets.”
“What about my kidnapping? And Rishi’s murder?” Cait’s head was spinning. This didn’t make any sense. “Why aren’t they both being charged with that?”
“Expediency, Cait. The cops needed an immediate charge that would see Boss-man held in remand. They already had Frog nailed. He’ll be held in jail until his trial in NT so he’ll be away safe and sound, but they needed something to hold Boss-man, and possession of a trafficable, albeit small quantity of drugs is a surefire way to hold him in remand until his trial.”
“But what about the positive ID from Cait about Boss-man being her kidnapper?” said G.
“Irish said that the cops are worried that he’ll wriggle out of the charge. He’s as slippery as a wet eel and in the past his lawyers have always managed to get him off. They want more time to build a bulletproof case against him. And Dubarry of course, who I might add, according to Irish, has turned crown witness against Boss-man, if you can believe that.”
“What the . . .” replied G.
“Apparently Boss-man has come up with an alibi for when he was supposed to have kidna
pped Cait. The cops need to investigate this first—he was supposedly tied up in a business meeting all morning at HQ with his legal advisers and a few of the Warlocks.”
“That’s total shit,” interjected Cait. “He was the one who kidnapped me.”
“Cait, as it stands at present, if the cops charged Boss-man now with Cait’s abduction he’d be back on the streets by tomorrow, because they currently only have insubstantial evidence due to his supposed alibi.”
“What?” said G.
“Basically, the cops are hoping to make the case against Boss-man irrefutable so a smart lawyer can’t get him off on a technicality down the track. Trust me guys, this is what I do for a living. I know how the system works, and they can’t charge him yet.”
“You’re kidding me,” quipped Cait, totally flabbergasted by what she had just heard. “That’s ridiculous.”
“So true, Cait, but the law’s an ass. Criminal charges can only be laid when there is conclusive proof, not just suspicion or probabilities. So if Rosi can somehow prove beyond reasonable doubt that he was elsewhere at the time of your abduction, he would have to be let go. No alternative. Which is why he’s being charged with something the cops can pin on him here and now.”
“That’s so unfair . . .” replied Cait.
“You’re absolutely correct. But it’s the law,” said Kylie. “And now the cops have a maximum of fourteen days to build a strong enough case against Rosi to charge him, hopefully for your abduction.”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“And don’t you guys worry. I’ll be monitoring this daily,” said Kylie as a final comment.
“Cait, remember, it’s not only you. I also want to see these bastards put away for a long time.”
“Hey, I may have found a loophole here.” Moose was talking to Mongrel, and the pres was mighty pissed off. The raid on his property in Bacchus Marsh was to be expected—it went hand in glove with being a one-percenter. That wasn’t the problem.
What was getting right up Mongrel’s nose more than anything else was the damage those mothers did to his new Mercedes during the search. They ripped out the seats, stripped his carpet, pulled off the door linings, and then left the bits scattered haphazardly on the ground around his prized possession. And out in the open where it could all get wet!
Those ignorant arseholes showed a total lack of respect for fine German engineering.
“Looks like the cops didn’t only screw up the raid.” Moose continued, “Despite a formal request made by us during discovery for a full disclosure of the facts and evidence surrounding Boss’s confinement, the cops still haven’t provided us with what we asked for.”
“Yeah, so what?” said Mongrel grumpily. He was over this shit. “Just get Boss off. And what about my car? The pigs going to pay for the damage?”
“Well mate, if we don’t get what we asked for within the next twenty-four hours then Boss has every right to be let out on bail while the cops work the case.” Moose let Mongrel’s comment about his car pass without mention. He felt it was best to let him fester on this one, as it was a no-win situation.
“Yeah? How much will it cost and who we gotta pay off?”
“If the cops don’t come through with what we asked them for by tonight, then Boss could be out by tomorrow. It’s that simple. We don’t have to pay off anyone. All we have to do is let the law do the work for us.”
“And bail?”
“Well, my guess is that they’ll have to let Boss go, but they’ll charge him with possession with intent to traffic the relatively small amount of dope they found in his room. Considering his past convictions . . . maybe five or ten grand, and then he’s back on the streets by tomorrow night.”
“What, that easy? That’s chickenshit money. Got that on me right now,” replied Mongrel rather arrogantly.
“Yeah, that easy. And I’m working on an angle with our legal guys about what’s known as constructive possession. The fact the cops found the ice and ecstasy in Boss’s room under a rug doesn’t necessarily prove possession. They’ll have to fingerprint it to actually link the dope to him, and that’ll take a few days at a minimum to process. Boss’ll be walking the streets again by the time the cops get that one sorted.”
“Hey G, I received some slightly disturbing news from Sorenson today. Seems like they had to let Rosi out on bail yesterday afternoon.” Kylie was reporting the not-so-good news to G.
“What? You’ve got to be kidding! That’s impossible.”
“I know, I know, it’s a real bummer. I had Irish make some inquiries. See what he could find out.” Kylie paused in the way that people in the legal profession always seem to take to gather their thoughts before proceeding.
“Well, it looks like Sorenson’s team were too slow in processing the evidence regarding the drugs and the trafficking charges and Rosi’s legal team exploited this laxness. They insisted that because of a lack of corroborating evidence linking Rosi directly to the drugs, and no evidence for dealing, that he had to be let out on bail.”
“Oh shit, does Caitie know yet?”
“No G, I thought it best to ring you first. So you want to tell her, or will I?”
“No . . . ah, leave it to me. I need to speak to Jools first. This’ll devastate Caitie.”
“Thought as much. Just remember, I’m here if you need me.”
However, to change the somberness of the moment, Kylie saved some almost positive news for last. “But there is a silver lining here. Well, actually it’s probably only a copper lining, but at least it’s something in our favor. Rosi may be out on bail, but he can’t go far. As part of his bail conditions he has to report in at a police station every two days.”
“And if he breaks bail?” asked G.
“Straight back in remand, and they’ll probably throw away the key. The cops do actually want to see him brought to justice. They’ve been trying unsuccessfully to pin something big on him for years.”
Kylie pushed back in her chair at her desk. She was delivering the disappointing news to G from her chambers in the central business district, and while she was speaking to him she took up her usual voyeur position, searching for signs of life around the drinking fountain in the offices next door.
“Irish is following this with the tenacity of a dog with a bone. I’ve never seen him so obsessed. He’ll keep us informed, I’m sure.
“Interestingly, Irish reported back to me yesterday that there’s been considerable pressure from above in the force to make sure that not only Rosi’s current charges see him in the nick, but also to pursue Cait’s unlawful imprisonment and assault as a priority. I feel that the cops need to save some face here after the fiasco surrounding the raid, hence the push to get a conviction.”
“So what’s your gut feeling?” inquired G.
“Well, without getting overly excited, I see Rosi convicted and going to jail in a month or so for possession and most likely trafficking. Sorenson will no doubt fast-track this to make sure Rosi ends up in jail ASAP. He’s under pressure to get a result.
“Then when Rosi’s locked up in the nick, Sorenson will close off the investigations into Cait’s kidnapping and Rosi’ll end up with maybe fifteen or twenty years. And if they can also pin Rishi’s murder on him, well, that’s life. Then you won’t see or hear from him again . . . ever.”
“That’s a pretty rosy scenario with a fairy-tale ending, Kylie. What’s the actual probability of this coming off?”
“I haven’t got a crystal ball, and the law can be fickle, especially if Rosi gets some smartarse, high-flying barrister on his team, as he no doubt will, but I’d say sixty-forty, our favor.”
“That low?” said G, surprised.
“Yes, that low, G. But for the law that’s good odds, so smile. We’re onto it, okay.
“Your choice obviously,” continued Kylie, “but I wouldn’t be telling Cait about my sixty-forty prediction. I don’t want to see her built up, only to be let down again at the last minute
.”
“Yeah Kylie, I can see the logic in that. Leave it to Jools and me. We’ll filter this out to her.”
“You know, Irish, in hindsight, the more I look at the way Rosi managed to get bail so easily, the less comfortable I feel about whether the due processes of the law were correctly followed,” said Kylie. Irish and her were having one of their regular catch-up sessions in her chambers. Their meetings were becoming so frequent that Kylie now kept a bottle of Jameson tucked away in her drawer, as Irish’s visits had been almost on a weekly basis lately.
“Well, what would you be suggesting here?” Irish reached out for his glass, noticed it was almost empty, and promptly topped it up with a generous swig of his favorite drop from the bottle that Kylie had conveniently left on her desk for him.
“Do you think someone got to the cops with a bucket of cash to splash about to convince them to slow up their disclosure?” asked Kylie, sounding out the old, sagacious mind in front of her. “I mean, all they had to do was find a way of linking the drugs they found in Rosi’s room to him and they would have had an excuse to hold him for longer, and then charge him with something that would stick.”
“You have a point there, lass. It’s a possibility, but very hard to prove unless some copper is stupid enough to make a large cash deposit into his bank account, which I very much doubt. More likely the money will end up on the next favorite down at the racetrack.”
“Just a suggestion, Irish . . . just a suggestion.”
Irish sat back, mind churning, mulling over what Kylie had just said.
“You know, there may just be another way to skin the cat here and see Rosi put behind bars again. It’s a long shot, but it could well work.”
“And . . .” Kylie asked, eyebrows raised.
“What about if we involve that Macillicuddy character again? Don’t mention anything about any money changing hands, that’s to be sure, but I’m positive he may be interested in unnecessary delays in bringing criminals to account. Especially if we can provide him with details.”
The Cait Lennox Box Set Page 47
