Detective Constable Warren Hastings tapped lightly on the door
and waited for the answering grunt from inside. Detective
Sergeant Ted Sperle was a man of little ceremony.
“Warren,” the Sergeant said as Hastings entered, “sit! I think
I’ve pasted it all together.”
On a large whiteboard in the corner of the office was a bunch of
photos of people, with green arrows and red writing, forming a
rough circular pattern.
Tapping the top photo Sperle said,
“Mr. Big! Our man in Asia… does the purchasing and arranges
transport… Mr. Pi Lee… or a dozen other alias.”
He tapped another photo.
“Our distributor… Jerry Hanlon… collects the gear… passes
it on to the gangs for retailing to the customers, Ok? But,” he
said, turning to Hastings, “we haven’t found our banker… till
now!”
Triumphantly, Sperle tapped a third photo,
“Graham Treadwell…Gray for short… old associate of
Hanlon’s… suddenly he’s got money to burn… buys a beachfront
property… about a millions bucks worth… Testarossa in the
driveway… money from where?”
“Lottery?” Hastings suggested, “old Aunt popped her clogs?”
“Bit convenient his old Aunt… and she leaves no paperwork
either. Bank statements? Just a big dollop of cash from where?”
Sperle dropped a pile of paper down in front of Hastings.
“I’ve talked to drug intelligence and here’s how it’s done. The
money doesn’t leave the country. He puts it into an onshore
investment that is a front for Mr. Lee. It’s then laundered
overseas as a legitimate foreign exchange transaction. Simple!”
“So there must be a record of him making the original
transaction… to the front company,” Hastings told him.
“Nope, we haven’t found it, yet. We’ve had his phones tapped,
Emails intercepted, Internet monitored, no, he’s a smart one this
guy. Everything hand delivered, I bet. He must have other
accounts under alias’s we know nothing about.”
“So, what’s the plan, sir?”
Sperle took a file out of the cabinet and flicked it open. It
contained sheets of A4, each with a photo pinned to the corner.
“Warren, I want you to sort through these and find us a mole.
They’re all recent graduates from Police College so they won’t be
recognised.”
“You want someone on the inside?”
“Yes. Intelligence has given us a pretty good profile of
Treadwell. Read through it and come up with a scenario. Get back
to me ASAP. Hastings?”
Sperle leaned closer,
“We really need this guy. If we can put him away we can close
down the whole show. I’m having my arse roasted by the
Commissioner over this. They’re desperate for some bodies,
understand?”
“I understand. Are you certain he’s our man?”
“My radar’s buzzing, Hastings. I want him in the bag, ok?”
“I get onto it,” the detective said as he left the office.
Meanwhile, in another part of town, a red Ferrari pulled up
outside an apartment block. Gray opened the door and walked
towards the front lobby. He scanned the postboxes until he found
number 61.
“Damn,” he said, ” right on the top floor and no bloody lifts.”
After ascending 6 flights of steps he, puffing, knocked on the
door of number 61. The door opened and his friend punched him
lightly on the arm.
“Gray! Good to see you, long time, no?”
“Hey Jerry!” he said, “what have you been up to?”
They walked into the apartment and Gray sat on an old sofa. Jerry
Hanlon got them a couple of Castlemaine Bitters from the fridge
and brought them back.
Although sporting a lot less hair, Jerry had changed little in 20
years. He was still lanky thin, which his tall frame exaggerated.
His eyes were a startling blue and seemed to be looking right
through you.
“So what are you drinking Aussie beer for?” Gray asked him,
looking for a conversation opener.
“On sale,” he said, ” six bucks a dozen at the Supermarket. Is
that your set of wheels?” he said nodding towards the window.
“Yeah! 1999 model.”
“Shit mate! You’ve been splashing out. I wouldn’t leave it there
for long, though. At least not around here, the kids will key
it… or worse. Fuck!” he said, opening the window.
“Hey Watson, keep your fucking hands off it or I’ll break your
arse,” he shouted out down to the street.
“Let’s go for a drive,” Gray suggested.
“Good idea,” Jerry agreed.
The Ferrari sure turned heads, thought Jerry as they cruised
through the city. He’d never been able to sneer at the peasants
like this for a long time.
“Blow him away!” he urged Gray, as some youngster lined them up
at the traffic lights.
“Nah, no point. Knowledge is everything, he knows it, I know it,
so why bother proving it,” Gray replied, somewhat
philosophically.
“Where’d get the brass for this anyway?” asked Jerry, “are you in
the game?”
“All legal, mate. I just got lucky, that’s all.”
“Lucky! And some! Pass a bit of that luck over here. I could do
with some.”
“So what have you been doing with yourself?” Gray asked.
“This and that, I get by.”
“I hear you did an 8 year stretch?”
“Yep, in ‘Remo. Cops set me up. 4kgs becomes 8, 10 tabs becomes
100, you know the story.”
“No, not me! I got busted about 10 years ago for an ounce or two.
Just got off with a fine.”
“Lucky! They nailed me for trafficking.”
“I thought you had a lab?” Gray said in surprise.
“Yeah, that too! I was only supplying the know-how, others were
doing the baking. I got caught on the premises so they stitched
that one on me as well.”
“So you were baking, what? Home-bake heroin?”
“Well THEY were, I was just showing them how to do it.”
“So are you working?” asked Gray.
“Like I said, a bit of this and that.”
“Oh sure!”
“Hey! Who’s going to employ ME, man? I tell you, I know nothing
but what I do… Y’know in ‘Remo, you’ve no idea what it was
like. The two tribes man. The Blacks or the Dogs, you’re either
with one or the other, no compromises. I kept the Blacks happy, I
was their wholesaler. If they wanted cellphones, drugs, videos or
whatever, I got them. That made me important to them and I
survived. I was never touched, man, because I knew how to
survive.
It’s all I know what to do, Gray so don’t fucking judge me. I
don’t have a money tree, like you,” Jerry said, bristling.
“Simmer down, Jerry. We all make our choices in life.”
“Yeah, well I fucked up my life a long time ago.”
The next day, Detective Hastings walked purposefully into the
briefing room with a file of papers under his arm. Sergeant
Sperle and his chief, DS Harewood were the only ones present.
“What have you got, Hastings?” asked Sperle.
“Three options, sir. One, Jessica Patricia Dayshe, graduated in
the last draft, 22, here’s a photo.”
Sperle stared at the photo for a while.
“Ok, she’s a babe, what’s your plan?”
“Crossword puzzles.”
“Eh?”
Sperle looked at his boss, a little abashed.
“Every weekday morning our subject has morning tea at the…
Rainbow Caf… where he does the crossword puzzle… never
fails.”
“So?”
“So, sir, have you ever seen crossword puzzlers together? They
can’t help asking each other for clues. There’s our contact
situation. WPC Dayshe is a crossword puzzler. She sits at a
nearby table and asks Treadwell for a clue.”
Sperle looked again at his chief, embarrassed.
“That it?” he asked Hastings.
“Dayshe sir… well she… I mean, from what I’ve got from
intelligence, she’s definitely the type that would appeal to
Treadwell, sir.”
“So! She appeals to me too. That doesn’t mean she can get under
Treadwell’s guard,” said Sperle, “these guys are smart,
Hastings… and dangerous. If you’re correct,” he went on, “then
we’re putting her in a potentially harmful situation…”
“Can you manage the situation?” asked the Chief, interrupting.
“Yes sir! She will be wired and we will have a couple of armed
Officers on standby… if it gets out of hand,” answered
Hastings.
“It’s risky,” said Sperle. “If Treadwell discovers the tap,
she’ll be toast. Hastings, you know what these guys are like.”
“Has Treadwell a history of violence?” asked Harewood.
“Not that we know of,” replied Sperle, ” But…”
“Then I think we should go ahead,” The Chief said.
“Sir, but…”
“Ted, I do the crossword every morning too. I think this could
work providing all precautions are taken.”
“Yes sir,” resigned Sperle, somewhat ungraciously.
Jessica Dayshe, Jess to her friends, had wanted to join the
Police since she was a little girl. Her father had been a
policeman, and his father, it was a family tradition.
At school she’d been a grade A student and a top athlete. She
could have chosen any career but she never doubted her future
profession.
At 5’ 8″, slim, and blessed with ‘pretty’ features, she’d entered
and won the local beauty contest. She’d been talked into it by
her friends and did it out of curiosity.
She was a very competitive person. At school she’d ‘pulled’ the
head boy just because all the girls lusted after him. Having got
him, she just as quickly dropped him, he’d turned out to be a
jerk, anyhow.
In fact Jess had a pretty good life, so far. If she’d change
anything, it would be her luck with men. She’d struck a long line
of arseholes since she began dating. Either they treated her as a
piece of goods to be manhandled at whim, or they were terrified
of her.
Jess decided she really didn’t need a man in her life and,
anyhow, her fingers were far more reliable. The problem with a
cock was that it came attached to a man.
She lived in a police flat with Christine, a fellow, newly
graduated cop. Chris, unlike Jess, had lots of boyfriends, all
young policemen.
On graduation day, Chris had even fucked two at once. She’d
brought one home for her but she didn’t want him so Chris had
taken both of them to bed. Their performance through the thin
walls of Chris’s room kept Jess awake until 3 in the morning
when, at last, everyone fell asleep, apparently exhausted.
Jess wasn’t very impressed with Gray’s picture, pinned to the
file. He looked to be pushing forty with thinning hair and the
stubble of a not quiet completed beard.
To Jess, he looked like a history teacher with, perhaps a liking
for underage girls. Certainly not like a dangerous major-player
in a drug cartel.
Jess was excited about her assignment. This was what she’d
imagined police work was like. Getting out there at the coalface
and catching the bad guys.
She hated drugs and the damage they did to people, especially the
young and vulnerable. Most of all she loathed the suppliers and
the dealers that pushed their wicked stuff onto the kids.
Also, Jess mused, it wouldn’t do her career in the police any
harm at all if she got the goods on this guy and put him away.
“We need some names and dates,” Sperle had told her,
“specifically the name of the company through which he launders
the drug money. Don’t be too pushy, though. Get to know him, get
him to trust you, catch him with his guard down.”
“Will… will I have to… sleep with him?” she’d asked
nervously.
Sperle had shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He answered,
“No, of course not. He may… um… become insistent. Y’know how
men are… But I’m sure you can fend him off… We will be
monitoring you at all times and we will pull you out if things
become… unmanageable, ok?”
Jess took a deep breath and nodded.
“Good! You will have another four days of training then we’ll
start the operation next week, ok?”
“Yes sir,” answered Jess.
The marijuana had relaxed Jess, in fact she was so relaxed she
couldn’t move. Gray was beside her, groping her breast and she
couldn’t move to stop him.
Somehow her top was open and his mouth was on her naked tit,
suckling and biting he nipple. He moved her hand onto his
erection and it felt enormous. It burned into the palm of her
hand, so hot and urgent.
Then his pants were open and he was sitting astride her chest. He
was rubbing that enormous weapon all over her chest. He was
laughing and stabbing at her face with the thing.
“Stop,” she tried to say, “don’t… No!”
But her voice sounded weak. It seemed to say to him, ‘ more,’
and, ‘go ahead.’
Then she was on the bed. She tried to move but her wrists were
chained to the bed head with handcuffs.
Gray grinning face loomed over her. He was squirting her with
what seemed like maple syrup. He giggled maniacally as he bent
down to lick the sticky substance of her. His tongue felt like a
cat’s on Jess’s skin, all rough, like sandpaper. He bit and
licked her all over.
He smeared some of the syrup on his cock and, holding her head,
pushed it into her mouth. The sickly-sweet tasting penis filled
her mouth, her lips stretching over the girth. As he pushed his
thing in and out of her mouth, Jess thought she was going to
choke.
Then his fingers were pushing their way up her vagina, sending
little sparks of feeling exploding within her abdomen.
Next, he had a knife, an evil looking serrated thing about a foot
long. Gray was dragging it all over her chest. She could feel the
touch of the cold steel on her skin through the sticky mess on
her chest.
Then she looked down and saw that the mess was her own blood.
“NO!” she screamed, “DON’T!”
The knife was now poised at her vagina. Gray lowered it and
dragged the point down her slit. As he pulled the blade back he
gripped it in a stabbing fashion.
Jess screamed.
Hands were shaking her and a woman’s voice was calling hername.
“Jess, Jess, wake up!”
Jess woke up, bathed in sweat. Chris was standing over her in her
nightie, a concerned look on her face.
“Jess, you were having a nightmare,” she said.
Jess looked at her, confused and panting in fear.
“My god, Jess, are you alright?” asked her flatmate.
“Yes… sorry…”
Chris hugged her friend to her chest as she began to cry.
Two days later, Jess agreed to a date. A fellow officer called
Brian had been pestering her since Police College to go out with
her and hitherto she’d turned him down.
Chris told her that, ‘ he was just right for her,’ but Jess knew
he wasn’t. She decided she needed a good time and he was just as
good as anybody.
After the pub and a dance it was back to the flat and bed. All
night Brian had been trying to impress her, futilely. Instead of
the quiet introspective Brian she knew, he was loud and brash,
particularly after a few drinks.
He was no great shakes in bed either. Sure! He was vigorous
enough, but he was in a hurry and kept asking her if she was
‘alright’. It annoyed her and she didn’t come.
About half an hour later he leaned over to suck her tit,
indicating he was ready to go again, but this time she’d lost
interest. Nevertheless, Jess opened her legs for him and tried to
sound enthusiastic as he humped away.
Afterwards, she found herself stroking his ball sac. ‘He has nice
balls,’ she concluded, ‘kind of soft and feathery to the touch.’
She liked the feel of a man’s balls.
Brian, however, got the wrong idea and turned over. When he began
to grab her breast again she pushed him away. She’d had enough.
It was cramped in her bed, so Jess grabbed a blanket and went to
sleep on the sofa in the lounge.
Hastings suggested Jess take Chris along to the Rainbow Caf a
little after Gray took his normal table. She was not to make
contact, yet, but to have a look around and familiarise herself
with the venue, and the target.
Hastings drove them pass the caf to check that Gray was there and
found, to their disappointment, he was not alone.
“He’s with Hanlon,” the detective said, “don’t speak to him. Just
let him get used to you being there. You’re two girlfriends
meeting over coffee. No heroics, understand?”
The girls nodded and got out of the car.
They took a table near the door with a good view of the two men.
Jess noticed they sat near the wall speaker that was playing a
local radio station. ‘Perhaps they’re being careful in case their
conversation was being recorded,’ Jess thought.
She saw that the two men were about the same age. Hanlon was tall
and thin with his greying hair worn long in a ponytail. He was
dressed in a faded blue denim jacket and jeans.
Treadwell was tidier. Shorter than Hanlon, nevertheless his frame
was spare and his long blond hair was loose about his shoulders.
He wore a navy polar fleece top and blue printed jeans. Jess
spotted the gold band of an expensive watch on his wrist. On his
other wrist, he wore a gold chain.
“What a couple of relics,” Chris told her in a hushed voice.
Jess shushed her friend.
“They can’t overhear us,” Chris said.
“Maybe not, but let’s just have a normal girlie conversation, ok?
I’m feeling a bit freaked out.”
“Sure,” Chris said, “so how was Brian?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Then what CAN I talk about?” complained Chris.
“Shopping.”
“Ok.”
Across from the policewomen, Hanlon leaned in towards Gray.
“See those two chicks over towards the door?”
Gray looked over towards Jess and Chris.
“Yeah?”
“Cops,” said Hanlon.
“You’re kidding,” replied Gray, ” how do you know.”
“Well, everyone here has a story, right. Two businessmen in the
corner are meeting to discus a deal. The lady over by the wall is
having a break from shopping with a chocolate clair and a cream
bun. She’s feeling naughty, Ooo,”
Jerry shivered mockingly.
“Everyone has a purpose, but those two. Watch how they talk…
they’re play-acting, they’re putting it on. There’s no real
communication between them… watch!”
Gray looked across at the two girls. He saw they were plainly
nervous, their eyes darted about and their faces appeared
frozen.
“Ok,” Gray told his friend, “they look freaked about something.
That doesn’t make them cops though. I haven’t seen them in here
before. They might be feeling nervous about being in a strange
caf.”
“They use newly graduated recruits from the college. So they
won’t be known to the ‘crims’,” Jerry went on, “but you can spot
them a mile away. You’d think the boss cops would have learned a
thing or two.”
“Jerry, you’re getting paranoid,” Gray said.
“Maybe, but to stay out of the can, and stay alive, I need to
be.”
“What a life, Jerry,” replied Gray, shaking his head.
Across from them Jess and Chris tried to make conversation but
the situation was too strange.
“The blond one keeps looking at us,” Chris said.
“That’s Gray Treadwell,” Jess told her, “my target.”
“I think he likes you.”
Jess put two fingers in her mouth and pretended to gag.
“The other guy looks kind of cute,” Chris said, ” maybe we can
double date them.”
“What!” said Jess, in mock outrage, ” a couple of drug
smugglers?”
“I like my men a little dangerous,” Chris said, smirking, ” a bit
of roughage now and then is good for the digestion.”
“Finish your coffee, Chris, before you make me throw up.”
Gray watched the two women get up and leave. He watched their
jeans covered bottoms sway out the door and licked his lips.
‘Nah, too cute to be cops,’ he told himself.