Читать книгу Serpent Song - Toni Grant - Страница 12

Two detectives entered the small rectangular room that had been divided into a glass-fronted office and six work stations. Inspector Goodwood raised his head from the stack of paperwork surrounding him.

In the corner behind him a framed photograph of his grandchildren, a happy crowd of blonde-haired angels, beamed at him from their position on top of the four-drawer filing cabinet. Beside the photograph a wobbly clay construction glazed in ghastly mud-green was marked ‘Pa’.The top drawer was opened displaying a fanlike construction of papers shoved in all directions.

One wall showcased his achievements with certificates and merits framed identically. At his overcrowded desk a trio of small flags poked in a stand. Australia, New Zealand and Fiji.

Closely shaved and dressed immaculately, he met their noisy entrance with an intense gaze over the rim of his reading glasses. In his grasp and poised mid-air a Waterford pen indicated he was mid-way through a tick and flick process on the pile of briefing papers in front of him. Behind him a large window looked over yet another CBD building, his blinds angled so that the morning sun created shards of slivered light.

“Detectives,” he greeted them, motioning for them to enter.

“Good morning Sir,” Johnno began, launching into a summary of the morning call out and finishing with the comment. “Francesca seems to think the placement of the brand on the body could be significant.”

“Oh?” He looked directly at the detective. “Why? Have you seen this before Francesca?”

“No Sir. The number twenty-five is significant to the Chinese. But identification of any kind is not common practice. I believe a brand over the heart is more symbolic. In a weird way, I guess, romantic. Chi You is too clinical.”

Goodwood nodded. “Well you are the expert where that group is concerned. Who do you suggest is behind it then?”

“Branding is also used as an intimidation tactic between rivals and followers. So we thought we’d check recent mob activities,” Johnno answered.

“Good. You think Italian or Middle Eastern?” the inspector enquired.

“We’re not sure, Sir. Branding and burning flesh … I believe it’s more Italian. Old-school Italian,” Francesca responded.

“Keep me informed. Who else do you need on the case? I want this sorted a.s.a.p. Fucking elections. Eight months can’t come soon enough. Francesca get me something on paper by 2pm so I can get it to legal.”

Francesca shifted uncomfortably at the inspector’s penetrating gaze. “The Minister in all his wisdom has called a press conference for 3pm today. He wants to set up a task force.”

“Yes Sir,” she responded.

“I think a task force is a bit of a waste of time and resources at the moment, Sir.” Johnno’s response drew an arched eyebrow from the inspector. He continued, “We really have nothing but speculation to show that it is the beginning of anything much. If it turns out to be Middle Eastern mafia we can link up with the boys and their current operations. Francesca and I can handle the preliminary investigation at present.”

Goodwood thought about it for a moment. “You have until the end of the day.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“And another thing, keep your bloody phones switched on! You’re no good to me if I can’t talk to you and don’t give me that out-of-range bullshit.”

“Yes, Sir,” they replied in unison.

~

Francesca stretched her arms high, arched her tired back and shoulders and rested her hands behind her head. Shutting her eyes to the data tables swimming on the computer screen before her, her head momentarily relaxed forward to her chest. She knew the places and names like the back of her hand and still no connection to this morning’s murder.

Johnno yawned loudly as his stomach let out a hungry growl.

“My thoughts exactly,” she said, her eyes remaining shut. “I need food too.” The thought of a hot dinner had her salivate instantly. “Coming?”

Her partner simply stood and grabbed his coat. “I know a great place,” he began, already at the door of their shared office.

The contrast of the cool night air and the rush of the hour nipped at her senses forcing her to step back momentarily. People and traffic streamed everywhere, racing like ants in the hours before a western rain storm. It was bumper to bumper this time of night.

Francesca observed the rush, double stepping to keep pace with Johnno. Office staff darted amongst the stationery cars scurrying to meet train and bus timetables. A small family of disoriented tourists checked a map huddling together in the set back doorway of a vacant shop front.

Booths of food outlets were crammed with school girls, noisily vying for attention and texting endlessly. Everywhere Francesca looked an entire city was tired and hassled.

The red-headed detective strode towards the corner pub.

They chose a booth that had a view of the television. “My shout, what would you like?” Francesca offered. Tonight’s $10 menu was homemade rissoles, gravy and vegetables.

“Sweet,” Johnno replied. “I’ll have the special.”

Francesca wandered to the bar, ordered the drinks and food and turned to watch the news. The Police Minister was struggling.

“He looked like a wanker tonight. Does that mean I’m in for it tomorrow?” Francesca asked, concerned about the repercussions.

“Nah, the boss is good. Just keep Goodwood in the loop.”

“Yeah that would be easy if I had something worthwhile to report,” she said as Johnno’s phone sounded the ACDC classic Thunderstruck over the bar room noise.

“Jonathan McCrae.” He listened intently as the caller spoke, madly nodding and taking notes on a serviette. Finally he replied, “Yes. Thanks mate. I’ll let the boss know. No worries. Cheers.”

“Sir. It’s Johnno. Lab says the body found this morning is a known member of the Ares Outlaw Motor Cycle Gang, Clyde Fletcher.”

There was a pause.

“Yes Sir. I’ll let Francesca know. Thank you Sir. Good night.”

Detective Jonathan McCrae turned to his partner, who was staring at him. Her eyebrow arched a question. He grinned at her, his freckled face split like a watermelon.

Francesca thought Johnno was about to burst. “Well?” she enquired.

“You’re looking at the leader of a new taskforce … Operation Serpent.” He grinned again. “When we get back to the office, I need a detailed summary of the relevant information on hand at the moment. The groundwork for this investigation has to be solid. Your role is to keep an eye on the legalities of every aspect of this operation as well as taking on a key investigative role. Don’t be afraid to show initiative. Copy?”

“Copy.” Francesca couldn’t hide her own enthusiasm. Another case to sink her teeth into and she beamed across the table at him.

“We’ll be joined by key members of the OMCG taskforce tomorrow morning.” He pushed out from the table. “Ready? I want to make a decent start tonight.”

~

“Here, Johnno, the rap sheet for Clyde Fletcher,” Francesca said. “Assault police causing grievous bodily harm, possession of prohibited substance to supply, armed robbery. Spent some time in Long Bay but released on good behaviour … huh … weird. Only lasted eight months on a five year sentence. Stabbing offences. Firearms offences. More drug offences. Current warrant issued for his arrest based on latest armed holdup at the TAB on the South Coast last month. And that’s only NSW. I haven’t even started on the other states.”

Francesca continued to read the intelligence summary.

“Became a member of the Ares in 2000 after Long Bay stint and has risen steadily through the ranks. Sits at the round table. Sounds like a dedicated follower to me. Wonder why he was a traitor? Could have been patching over to Chi You, I suppose. It would explain the public exposure and the lack of initiation markings.”

“Yeah…. Could be possible.” Lost in thought, Johnno tapped out a percussion beat. “Ares setting up Chi You over one lost follower? A bit over-dramatic if you ask me. There has to be more to it than that.”

A chart projected onto the wall created a grid pattern, within which, known illegal activities and key persons of interest were listed. On a detailed map of Sydney beside it, green circles highlighted areas of known Chi You activities. A blue X marked the location of Clyde Fletcher’s body and another dotted the approximate location of the suspicious SUV. An arrow directed the view of the driver who’d faced Francesca.

Known links to the Melbourne-based Italian mob were cross-referenced with Middle Eastern organised crime syndicate activities. This grid and map system provided a quick visual of any correlations between the groups.

Along another wall, Francesca had begun pinning close up photographs of the tattoos found on Clyde Fletcher’s body, as well as some location shots.

The pair sat staring at the boards in front of them. Not one overlapped in boundaries, which was hardly surprising. As expected, vested interests in drug and arms trade weaved through every crime syndicate.

“Hey Johnno, an Ares Motorcyclist, an Italian mobster and a Triad gang member walk into a bar…” Francesca said, aware of her bad joke.

“Ok. But they wouldn’t walk in together. So who would walk in first and what would they be looking for?” Johnno countered.

“I think Triad would walk in alone. Remain in the shadows. Away but present,” she responded.

“Yes I agree. I think Ares and triads meet at the bar. I think Chi You is partnering Ares to sure up supply. Well-established drug routes and systems. Manufacturing. We know that Clyde Fletcher was a member of Ares. Ordinarily the murder of a chapter leader would spark a fairly rapid response. There would be talk of some sort of action within the group by now. I think the real question is more along the lines of: why are the two groups working together. Is it narcotics or cash or something else?” Johnno responded. “I can’t come at a third party at this point. The link is too tenuous.”

Francesca knew at times outlaw gang members assisted other criminal syndicates. Usually recruitment came by individuals on a contractual arrangement rather than the gang as a whole.

“I see your point. Assuming Clyde opposed the move, I can see that publically calling him a traitor would maintain and boost leadership power within a bike gang structure. And we’d have to assume the hit would happen in-house,” she said. “I just can’t see a partnership between Chi You and anyone to be honest. Chi You always worked alone. I think we’re dealing with a partnership between Ares and another syndicate. But it’s got me stuffed why our killer would call out Chi You.”

“Let’s talk about Ares for a minute,” Johnno replied. “Have you had much to do with them Francesca, in particular, their president, Robbie L?”

Francesca shook her head. “Not really. Any altercation in Queensland between bike gangs was handled by a dedicated team. I never had the chance to work with those guys. Although I do know our biggest concern was the Warlords.”

“A quick history lesson. Ares took the Greek God of War as their mentor. Possibly the most despised amongst the ancient Gods, Ares lived by a code of rebellion - bloodthirsty rebellion. His behaviour apparently represented manliness and courage. Ancient Greeks described him as savage, dangerous and militaristic; qualities the Ares Motor Cycle group relish. You would recognise their symbol, I imagine.”

“Large hands holding the leads of a fierce looking dog and a wild pig with the words Phobos, meaning fear, and Deimos, meaning terror, branded on each beast,” she said.

Johnno nodded. “Also, the flag with the combination of blue and white stripes and the southern cross in the background.”

“And we have branding again. Maybe you’re right. Ares and Chi You.”

“Maybe. Where are you up to? In relation to cross-referencing outside of Sydney district.”

“Western region and then I am finished with NSW. Do you want me to keep looking or start something else?”

“Stay with western region. Finish the job. I’m going to start on Ares.” Johnno responded. “Tomorrow I’ll get the team to look into the Warlords, just to be sure.”

Francesca shrugged and nodded, methodically going through the data when something caught her attention. A charred body had been found in a mineshaft at Lightning Ridge, a mining town in the far west of NSW. The report stated there was a single gunshot wound to the head and at some point the hands and feet had been bound. The body, found two weeks ago, was yet to be identified.

“Johnno,” she said, unable to contain her hopeful voice. “Come and look at this. Listen.” She read the file to him. “What do you think?” she asked, looking up at him questioningly as she finished reading the brief summary.

“Could be something,” he said cautiously, sniffing loudly at the air. “The Ridge though? That’s a long way from Sydney. What would they be doing out there? Here is Sydney,” he said pointing to a digital map of NSW, emphasizing his point. “That’s Lightning Ridge.”

A raspy sound interrupted the silence as his rough hands rubbed chin whiskers thoughtfully. “We have a dead Ares gang member with a triad number system. Anything about the guy at the Ridge?”

“No, no markings, no number, just burnt,” Francesca replied, thoughtfully adding, “Remember that article in the Australian Federal Police Newsletter? That one on mob activity in Sicily. It talked about a resurgence in Italian mafia traditions. Traditions like burning or branding traitors.” She glanced at Johnno and continued, “So, our connections are symbolic indicators of traitors. I know I keep talking about the Italians, but I can’t help thinking of that branding as symbolic. To me it screams a message. Bike gangs and Chi You are more methodological. Brutal without emotion.”

She continued, “Think about it. We’ve assumed Clyde Fletcher was getting in the way of some new deal. Nero is based in Melbourne right? What if the deal has already been made and the bodies bind the contract. They point to Chi You. Why the Chinese? To throw us off track.” She stopped and thought for a minute. “Unless, of course, it’s a three-way pact, in which case there is another body somewhere.”

Francesca placed her hands behind her head and stretched, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “So then you have to ask, is Australia big enough to hide and sustain such a huge crime syndicate.”

“Wait! You know what I think?” she almost shouted. “Chi You is pretty much nutted now. Cairns. Melbourne. Gold Coast. It’s all but over for them. They’re under the pump with the court matter in Brisbane next month. They won’t react now. They simply can’t. That creates time and opportunity. Time to create new partnerships with lower-level Chi You members. The Melbourne chapter had the strongest leadership. Nero would be licking his lips at this opportunity, you have to agree.” Francesca faced him, her face glowing with resolution. “We know he’s into symbolic gestures. You saw that report from the Victorian Cops about those three murders last year.”

She looked at him earnestly.

“Next month’s court matters will bring convictions I’m certain. Without an active figure head, the group will dissipate. It has happened before with other triad gangs. That’s a whole lot of talent and connections down the tubes, unless the members can be coerced to patch over. Maybe, just maybe, Ares and Nero are looking to expand membership, increase supply … in effect take over Chi You. So they put any gang members not wanting to comply on notice with the symbolic twenty-five.”

She sat back, nodding in satisfaction at her conclusion.

Johnno processed her theories for a long minute. “We need to get identification on that body in the Ridge,” he stated. “I still think you’re drawing a pretty long bow with Nero.”

Francesca looked across at him incredulously.

“However, we know the highway between Melbourne and Brisbane is the main narcs’ courier route,” he continued. “Drug supply is the common denominator between them all. I’m almost one hundred percent sure, but here,” he said pointing to the outskirts of a small town in the central west, “that’s a Warlords clubhouse. I have a mate out there. Might give him a call, see if there’s been any rumblings, off the radar so to speak.”

“I know,” he continued at her doubtful look. “They wouldn’t organise the hit from there. That type of instruction comes from the main clubhouse, but they could deploy the runners from there. Do you see the Ridge? Not too far away.

“And if someone has been making enquiries on behalf of Ares or Warlords, my mate will know. I want to cover all our options at the moment. A dead body found in Warlords territory under those circumstances is something we can’t ignore.”

“So you think the murders bind a new agreement?” Francesca asked hopefully.

Johnno shrugged. “Considering drug demand exceeds supply at the moment, OMCG could be contracting out the manufacturing to other syndicates. Unless, of course, another shipment is due. Quick distribution. Alternate couriers would spread the risk, for a hefty price. I don’t think Italian mob terms would wash with Ares. Nor Warlords for that matter. Fletcher got in the way. Maybe he was too greedy. Maybe Chi You aren’t as undone as we thought.”

Francesca glanced at her partner. “Are you telling me we’re now looking at four syndicates – Nero, Chi You, Ares and Warlords?”

“You know what, we could sit and speculate all night. As I said, we won’t know anything more until we get some results on that body at the Ridge. Tomorrow I want to double-check that information and then take a look myself. You’d better come too.”