ROWLEY REEF

132 pages 57177 words

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PART ONE – ROWLEY REEF Chapter 01 – Withdrawal Chapter 02 – Contact PART TWO Chapter 03 – Body Chapter 04 – Early Contacts Chapter 05 – Smash and Grab Chapter 06 – Barney and Zep Chapter 07 – Missing a Fourth Chapter 08 – Team Spirit PART THREE Chapter 09 – Half Marathon Chapter 10 – Shooter Analysis Chapter 11 – Forensics Chapter 12 – Johnno Johnston Chapter 13 – Bikie Suspect Chapter 14 – Second Shots PART FOUR Chapter 15 – Plate Hunting Chapter 16 – Sydney Gunsmith Chapter 17 – Sighting Snipers Chapter 18 –The Merchant Dealer Chapter 19 – Blue Star Marine Chapter 20 – Two Growers on the Run Chapter 21 – Cannabis Interviews Chapter 22 – Illegal Contracts PART FIVE Chapter 23 – Party Party Chapter 24 – Party Party Party Chapter 25 – The Morning After Chapter 26 – My Belongings Chapter 27 – Callum Chapter 28 – Callum Calamity Chapter 29 – Sniper Alert Chapter 30 – Turning the Screws PART SIX Chapter 31 – Funeral Chapter 32 – Vacations Chapter 33 – The Bikie Returns Chapter 34 – Sniper Unleashed Again Chapter 35 – Johnno Arrives Chapter 36 – Johnno Departs PART SEVEN Chapter 37 – On the Run Chapter 42 – Halls Creek Hotel Chapter 43 – The Road to Broome Chapter 44 – The Road Home Chapter 45 – Two Prisoners Chapter 46 – Trials Chapter 47 – Under Attack Chapter 48 – Relationships Chapter 49 – District Court Chapter 50 – Barney Returns Chapter 51 – Supreme Court NSW TheEnd 45

29^th and 30^th April 1975 Tuesday 23^rd May 1975 Tuesday, 26^th March 2013 Tuesday afternoon, 26^th March Wednesday morning, 27^th March Wednesday afternoon, 27^th March Thursday morning, 28^th March Thursday afternoon, 28^th March Saturday morning, 30^th March Sunday morning, 31^st March Monday morning, 1^st April Tuesday morning, 2^nd April Wednesday morning, 3^rd April Thursday, 4^th April Friday, 5^th April Saturday, 6^th April Sunday, 7^th April Monday, 8^th April Tuesday afternoon, 9^th Apr 2013 Wednesday, 10^th April Thursday, 11^th April Friday, 12^th April Friday evening, 12^th Apr Friday night, 12^th Apr Saturday, 13^th Apr Sunday, 14^th April Sunday afternoon, 14^th April Monday, 15^th April Tuesday, 16^th April Wednesday, 17^th April Saturday, 20^th April Sunday, 21^st April Thursday, 25^th April April Days Saturday morning, 27^th Apr Saturday afternoon, 27^th Apr Sunday, 28^th April Wednesday, 1^st May Thursday, 2^nd May Saturday, 4^th May Monday, 6^th May Tuesday, 7^th May Wednesday, 8^th May Thursday, 9^th May Friday, 10^th May Saturday, 11^th May Monday, 13^th July

Sunday footy begins, 21^st Apr Friday, 10^th May

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Withdrawal

29^th and 30^th April 1975

The sounds of many military helicopters echoed around the scrap iron and tent city near the Embassy of the United States in Saigon. The US was finally pulling out.

Dai Nguyen stared out through the tent flap at the mechanical chaos within the compound as fleets of vehicles buzzed around helicopters being readied for take-off on the ground. Other copters were landing and taking off from the roof above. His mother Tam Nguyen stood behind him with his baby sister Phuong restless on her hip. They had decided to try to get on one of those helicopters before the city fell to the Viet Cong. The dead father had been a regular soldier in the Army of the Republic of (South) Vietnam (ARVN) attached to the Americans as a translator. Now the three of them had almost nothing.

For three days they had stood among the crush of refugees trying to get into the embassy, but they were now exhausted. Dai tried another way. He went a little away from the airport and confronted a couple of US soldiers in full battle kit as they hurried towards the embassy.

“My dead father was American soldier. My mother and sister need to leave.” He thought the small lie was quicker than the full explanation.

“Sorry kid. We are on a deadline, and I can’t stop to help you,” but then he reached into a pocket and handed Dai twenty dollars US. “Keep trying.”

His mate handed over another twenty dollars and added, “Try Vung Tau on the coast. There may be boats to Indonesia or Singapore. Or maybe a few planes too.”

Dejected, Dai watched them march on.

The following day, Tam and her two children trekked to the river with all the belongings they could comfortably carry. It wasn’t much. They had a little amount of

Vietnamese Dong currency, but with rampant inflation daily it was worth almost nothing. Luckily, they had a few American dollars saved up for just this type of emergency. The $40 was going to be their boat ride out of Vietnam.

A river boat was taking on paying customers to ferry them down river to places as far as Vung Tau at the river mouth. The ferry owner laughed at the offering that Tam presented in Vietnamese Dong, until she pulled out one American dollar. That day it was worth 3000 Dong so the ferry trip was theirs.

As the ferry neared the port of Vung Tau they could see the monstrous wharves and cranes and sheds that had served the Australian Support Base during the war in Viet Nam, up until two years earlier. Now much of it was derelict, awaiting the rebuilding when the Communist Government assumed control over the whole of Vietnam. Already there were deadly reprisals against former ARVN soldiers and supporters of the Americans and their families. It really was time to get out.

Among the fishing fleet jetties were crowds of people vying for a passage to Malaysia or Indonesia, seeking a place on the few fishing boats willing to make the trip. Tam and the children managed to front one captain of a fishing boat, and after a little pressure from him, she handed over the required twenty dollar note. He would provide the water, rice and fish for the six-day trip for the 23 people aboard and take them to Indonesia. Tam, with her seven-year-old Dai, and three-year-old Phuong found a quiet sheltered place at the shady side of the boat and watched as the harbour cranes slowly disappeared over the horizon.

With 23 people and three crew on the small boat there was little room to move around, so the children stayed beside her. The fishing boat was tossed about by the ocean swell which caused quite a few to become seasick, but they soldiered on. Any other options were worse. Occasionally the boat would drag a small net behind, or the crew used baited long lines which usually replenished the fresh fish stocks.

On the sixth day, land was sighted, and a plane flew high overhead. They were nearing South Sumatra when an Indonesian patrol boat approached them and hailed them on a microphone in Vietnamese.

“The Lampung Refugee Centre is full. You must not land. Keep going or we must sink you.” They sailed on. Nearing Jakarta, the sea traffic got heavier, but so did the presence of patrol boats, continually warning them to, “Keep going or else.” They were forced through the Sunda Strait between Sumatra and Java, into the Indian Ocean. There was now nothing before them except Australia another 2000 kilometres away. They had little choice but to put the sail up and keep going.

The captain announced that he knew that Christmas Island was just 350 kilometres ahead, and it was an Australian territory. What he failed to mention was that it was uncharted waters to him. He had never been in this area, so they had no chart for the location of the island.

They had chugged along for another day when the weather closed in. It worried the captain as this was the area for cyclones, but it was not yet the cyclone season. He shrugged his shoulders and rationalised his mixed fortunes. He then set members of the crew into stretching out canvas to capture rain and refill his dwindling water supply. It also provided some cover for some of the people. Dai tried to be protective of his mother and sister, but little Phuong caught the chills in the wind and rain. With her petite young body, they could not warm her. She developed chronic pneumonia and died during the storm. She was buried at sea.

The driving storm winds behind them and the lashing rain lasted for three days and by the time it had finished they were well past Christmas Island, but the water tanks were full, and fish were plentiful in the disturbed seas. However, they were running short on fuel and cooking gas. They began to use the sail and saved the motors for emergencies, but it was at a much slower pace.

Five days later another storm washed through. During that night, through the misty rain, the captain sensed, rather than saw, that the seas before him were broken with reefs. He used a lot of his remaining fuel to try to bypass the problem but failed. The boat crunched onto the outskirts of a coral atoll that was a metre or two above sea level and began to break up. The people and crew were tumbled into the water and struggled to make the shore. Most were non swimmers and did not make it. Dai and fellow playmates had frequently swum in the Saigon River, so he tried to help his troubled mother. She was weak and ill, so his struggles were in vain as she slowly sank. He was too small to bring her to the surface. Under the water she deliberately pushed him away to save himself.

Dai was one of the nine survivors to reach land. They huddled together like a swarm of Emperor Penguins on the desolate coral beach and stared into the gloom at the wreck on its side some 50 metres out on the rocks. There was no further movement of people in the water, just a few bodies floating lifeless in the waves.

At first light they stirred and began to look around. The coral atoll was about a kilometre around, flat white and totally barren. Most of the survivors were swimmers and a couple of the others had been lucky to be swept ashore. The swimmers tried to tackle the heavy seas to get to the boat, but it was still too rough. So, they waited. During the day a few water bottles floated in and were stashed for emergency. The storm abated during the next night.

The next day several swimmers boarded the mostly submerged boat and brought back a few things to help the survivors. There was no food or water, but pieces of canvas and some loose planks proved to be useful to make a tent and a water condensation catchment. A couple of fishing lines were eagerly used, with shellfish from the coral rocks used as bait or food. They survived and waited for several days.

Then a plane flew over. It circled and flew away.

Chapter 2

Contact

Tuesday 23rd May 1975

The patrol boat arrived during the afternoon. It anchored offshore beyond the wrecked fishing boat. and a rubber-duck inflatable was despatched to the shore. A doctor emerged with two officers and asked in English, “Who needs medical attention?” The senior officer added, “And where are you from?”

No one answered as the remainder of the survivors did not speak English.

So the seven year old Dai spoke, “We are from Viet Nam.” He became the translator and spokesman for the group. “The rest of them did not live,” and he pointed to the remains of the boat.

“Why are you at Rowley Shoals?” asked the second officer.

“We escape from Viet Cong,” replied Dai in his best English.

Rowley Shoals was a group of three low lying coral atolls to the south of the Timor Sea. By interviewing a spokesman for the group, translated by Dai, the officer found that they had reached the atoll under sail, pushed by the prevailing winds.

While the doctor patched up the many cuts and bruises suffered by the survivors on the jagged coral during their landing, the patrol boat cruised about looking for other bodies. There were none to be found. The storm surge driving past the atoll had pushed any corpses and loose debris away out into the deep ocean.

They were transferred from Rowley Shoals to Broome, just 260 kilometres away. They were among the first refugees to make it to Australia. Fifty-six other boats with about 2100 people from Vietnam arrived within the next 5 years. They were treated with sympathy and processed for permanent residency on arrival. Dai was different.

Dai Nguyen was an unescorted child of seven years. His father was an interpreter for the Americans, who should have been evacuated, but he was killed by the Viet Cong before the end of hostilities. His mother and sister had both died getting to Australia. Dai was placed in State care for five years into Tardun Agricultural Boarding School situated east of Geraldton. His studies showed that he was quite capable, so for his high school years he was fostered with a Vietnamese family in Geraldton. By then, many of the boat people were beginning to make new lives for themselves with vegetable and fruit farming and building a community around Deepdale, a suburb seven kilometres east of the Geraldton CBD.

Just after his sixteenth birthday, Dai was made an Australian Citizen with his foster family and school friends all attending the proceedings at the Geraldton Council’s quarterly ceremony.

Dai excelled at working with wood when he was not helping in the fruit and vegetable gardens, so he was apprenticed to a local carpenter in town in 1984. He worked hard at his skills and was soon quite sought after for building and furniture repairs. His employer, the carpenter, retired early in 1993, finding that there was too much competition in Geraldton for furniture carpentry. Dai put in a reasonable offer for the property, which was accepted by the carpenter. So by the age of 25 he owned his own store in Geraldton, and he decided to specialise in supplying and fitting wooden doors. For special orders he would even construct the door from raw materials.

Dai took on a young Vietnamese apprentice, Quang Vo, to thank the people for looking after him and to train a youngster like himself. Quang was also from the Deepdale vegetable growing community.

Business was great for a few years but then the depression of the 1990’s began to bite into the building industry. There were less and less orders as time went on.

One fateful day he happened to find young Quang smoking in the back shed.

“Just what do you think you are up to?” he demanded.

“It’s just weed,” was the answer. “All the kids are into it, and it helps me to relax between intense jobs. You should try it.”

Dai tried a reefer but was appalled with himself for his lack of full control while under the influence. He didn’t use it again. But it gave him an idea.

“Quang. You said that the kids like to use it. Where did you get this stuff?”

“Some of the folks in Deepdale have a few plants growing among the vegies,” was his self-conscious reply. “They sell it on the sly very cheaply to friends and family.”

“If the town kids want it, could we get enough to sell to them and turnover a profit?” Dai solemnly asked Quang, thinking that during these hard times they needed an unusual solution.

“I suppose,” he shrugged timidly.

So the Merchant of Geraldton began selling small lots of Cannabis to the kids. Some children had little money so began to bring in objects to barter for the weed. Dai began to contact and arrange people and places to dispose of these, usually away from Geraldton. His Cannabis suppliers were kept busy. After his initial contact with his own supplier, Quang was kept out of the loop.

Dai Nguyen vowed that one day he would take a cruise boat to the popular Rowley Shoals Marine Park to see the spectacular coral colours and the myriads of fish species. On one calm night he would float some candle lanterns from the cruise boat across the ocean in remembrance of his mother and sister. That was his long-term plan to memorialise his family and to celebrate his success.

PART TWO

Chapter 3

Body

Tuesday morning, 26^th March

“We’ve got a body.” Zep slapped down the office phone and grabbed his car keys and mobile phone.

Barney closed the incident report that he was editing on the computer file and joined him. “So, what’s going on?” he asked.

“The front office got a phone call from a pig farm in the suburb of Moresby, just behind the Spalding Park Golf Club,” explained Zep. “They have found a body in their pig pen.”

“Oh, yuk,” exclaimed Barney. “I hope forensics get there first.”

As usual, Zep drove the unmarked police cruiser at top speed, with flashing lights and siren, into the area of five-acre farmlets. He parked on the street outside the farm. The pig farmer at his front verge pointed them towards the relevant enclosure.

The forensic vehicle, also parked on the street, had just beaten them. The forensic specialists in white plastic coveralls had just reached the fence to peer into the open pig pen. The horde of large pigs had been moved into an adjoining enclosure and were staring through the railings, grunting at all the activity. The morgue van arrived minutes later and reversed into the driveway, stopping at the front verge gateway. No one wanted to be the first to get close to the body. Crows continued to gather on the roof of the farmhouse and the nearby barn, calling obscenities at those who had disturbed an earlier meal.

As the forensic technicians began to collect material from the fences, gate and the dirt paths, taking copious photographs as they went, Barney and Zep donned their full body plastic coveralls as they also began their observations.

“Now let’s see,” considered Barney, looking over the railing, scrutinising the body lying in the mud. “I’d say he was about 16 to 18 years old and not very well off according to his clothing. His shorts and T-shirt are in tatters. The pigs have not started on his upper face, but most of the rest of the exposed body has been attacked. A few crows have pecked at the eyes, but not much else. The pigs must have been insistent defenders.”

“The neck, jaws and abdomen have been the main points of damage, and the muscles of the limbs where bites have been taken,” added Zep. “The stomach was the most likely as that is the softest and easiest to dig into, but the neck is a strange point of assault for a non-feral animal like a domestic pig. I would normally only expect that attack from a hunting carnivore.”

The morgue vehicle began to disgorge two more medicos in white coveralls and one lady similarly adorned in blue, carrying a medical bag. The gurney was efficiently unloaded from the rear of the van and wheeled up the driveway towards the group.

“Will you two hurry-up and get in there and do your preliminary job on examining the body,” the chief medical officer Laura Chelva spoke out. “Then the rest of us can get in there to begin a proper forensic inspection. We can then remove the corpse to the morgue for a further full examination.”

The forensic technician who had finished fingerprinting the gate and taking photographs of all footprints on the soft path just inside the pen, opened it and stepped aside for the two detectives. Barney danced left to avoid a putrid pile of pig poo, while Zep took a longer step to hop over it and slipped slightly on mud on the other side.

“Don’t say a word,” he growled to Barney and the smiling onlookers, as he regained his balance.

The male corpse was dressed in tattered shorts and a t-shirt, which has been mauled somewhat by the pigs in their feasting frenzy. Zep nodded to Barney to check inside the pockets of the body. He found nothing. Since the figure was in too bad a condition to determine any cause of death, natural or accidental or murder, the detectives called the others into the pen to carry out their duties. They wandered over to speak to the owner.

“Tell me about the body,” began Zep.

The farmer related his story. “I’m a heavy sleeper and didn’t rise until late this morning. After breakfast I went out to feed the pigs and heard an almighty kerfuffle in the yard. The crows were circling and trying to get into the pig pen, but the pigs were grunting and squealing to shoo them away. When I checked it out, I saw the body, so I rang the police immediately and then moved the pigs into that enclosure over there. It was a tough job as they didn’t want to move. I then stayed just outside the fence to keep the crows away from the body.”

“Do you know how it got there?” asked Barney.

“I don’t know why he would want to get into the pigs. He wasn’t there late last night when I did my final check-up,” confirmed the farmer. “The pigs had all gone quietly to bed in the piggery hut over there.” He pointed to a small wooden hut with a corrugated tin roof at the back of the compound.

“I didn’t hear any noises or vehicles overnight, but in the evening I would have had the TV up quite loud. Also, the house is quite a distance from the road so I wouldn’t have heard much anyway. I wonder what he was after?”

“Do you recognise the deceased?” questioned Zep.

“He’s a young kid, looks Asian from his skin colour, and not from around here.” The farmer frowned as he thought about the question. “There are a few Vietnamese families who have settled around this district, some farming and some labouring on the vegetable and fruit farms, but I don’t recognise that kid.”

“Ready to move the body.” The voice of Doctor Laura Chelva called from the pigpen. “Anything more you want before we do it?”

“No thanks Laura,” replied Zep. “We will be waiting on your autopsy report later.”

#

Zep was phoned from the morgue by mid-morning. “You had better come and see this,” Dr Chelva insisted. So they went.

The naked body was laid out on the mortuary table still in a generally uncleansed state. Laura Chelva directed them to the right arm of the deceased where she indicated a row if puncture marks in the muscle. “That is not a pig bite,” she exclaimed. “It’s the jaws of a dog. And the throat shows a few similar tooth marks, but the pigs have feasted there on the opened wound.”

“So, this lad was first attacked by a dog or dogs,” repeated Barney.

“Yes,” confirmed Laura. “And judging by the damage around the throat, he was probably killed by the dog. I estimate it was late last evening.”

“And dumped in the pigpen to disguise the death by dog,” added Zep.

“Highly likely,” agreed Dr Laura Chelva. “I’ll know more after I complete the full autopsy. This was noticed as soon as I cleaned away a little of the mud.”

“The pig farmer had no dogs that I noticed,” began Barney. “So the dead body was dumped there overnight. We need to get forensics out there again to check for delivery tracks.”

“I’ll get them out there straight away,” Zep reached for his mobile.

#

The forensic team leader rang through to the detectives, shortly after they arrived back at the pig farm.

“We missed it when we first arrived but there was a trail of blood drops leading from the front gate to the pig-pen fence. There were only three small drops altogether in the twenty metres he was carried, so the victim had probably already mostly bled out. The last drop was outside the fence near to the body, nowhere near the gate. There were no indications on the sealed driveway left by the movers of the body, and the ground beside the fence was too rock hard to leave footprints. The photos of footprints inside the gate are only the farmers. The fence was clean, so the body was heaved right over it without leaving any trace on the top railing, to land where it was found. That suggests there were two men who slung the body over it.”

“Well done guys,” replied Zep, concluding the phone call.

“We have no identity,” began Barney. “I guess it’s time to get the Geraldton Guardian newspaper informed.”

“You only want to keep in the good books with that girlfriend of yours,” smirked Zep. “Okay give Carleen a call. But just a body, no details.”

“And then I have to jog down to the Rec for footy training,” finished Barney.

Chapter 4

Early Contacts

Tuesday Afternoon, 26^th March

Heavy breathing and solid footsteps from behind. He sensed danger was closing in on him. He had just seconds.

“Barney. Out wide,” came the call from Steve Tipping.

Barney Merrick twisted before the tackle could be completed and handballed a long looping pass out to the wingman. The dangerous tackle was rendered ineffective, as he no longer had the football.

They were nearing the end of the tactics session, after a solid fitness drill, then a physical workout. The Railways Football Team was divided into two teams, one in red and the other in yellow to test the mettle of various players in specific playing positions. As usual, Barney was active around the centre square.

The delivery from Steve Tipping was intercepted and kicked back into the centre. A scramble for possession saw a team-mate push the ball out to Barney who used the pace he was renowned for and took off towards his goals. After two bounces he was well in range to score.

Barney feinted left and then straightened right to balance on his favoured right kicking foot. He expected an opposition player to his front who was closing in on him to be put off by the move. As he readied to drop the ball onto his boot he was surprised. The ball had disappeared from his grasp.

He stopped, bewildered. And turned to see Bill Armstrong in the opposition yellow colours running away with the ball. Around him he could hear team-mates in both red and yellow guernseys laughing. The coach thought it was a great time to call the end to the night’s practice. He called them all in for a talk.

“Great going guys,” he began. “You are shaping up, but there’s still three weeks of toughening up to go. And speaking of toughening up, there is the annual half-marathon this Sunday at 8:20 a.m. on the foreshore. We need to get a team of ten runners in, and I would like as many others as possible of you to enter either the half marathon or the ten-kilometre race. See Bill Armstrong to get yourself entered.

Next, as you know our team captain of many years decided to retire last week. He will be sorely missed, but he will still help me with advice. I would now like to appoint a new captain. Barney Merrick, will you take on the position.?”

Barney looked up in surprise and immediately spoke out strongly. “Coach Cocker, I would be honoured.”

“Bill Armstrong, I assume you will continue as Vice-Captain?”

“Yes sir,” responded Bill.

“Barney, would you like to say a few words now, to your men?” asked Brad Cocker.

“Yes sir,” began Barney. “Fellows. You all know me now. I plan to lead by example, and I hope you will follow me right to the top this season.”

He paused to let his opening remark sink in to his new followers. Then continued.

“One example that I hope you saw this afternoon. I play hard, but Bill Armstrong played cleverer. He has been watching me and knew my moves. So, when I did the expected he did the unexpected to counter me. That is a lesson to you all. Don’t just play football, learn about it, learn about your opponents, and use it. Do it better.”

The entire training squad cheered and clapped. Barney was pleased that a team who were laughing at him five minutes earlier had seen the message in it.

#

After a brief cool-down shower and change in the club rooms, he wandered out into the waning light of dusk. “Barney. Over here,” came the call from Carleen Carmello. She and Coach Cocker had just concluded a conversation beside the boundary railings.

“Congratulations Barney,” Carleen declared excitedly when she kissed him as they hurried to her car. “Brad had just announced to me that you are the new Captain of the Railways league team. So, if he has told me, a media reporter, I guess I have a story to write for tomorrow’s paper. We will have to rush to get to the Geraldton Guardian office before the copy deadline. Let’s go.”

Barney waved an apology to Coach Cocker as they hurriedly left. “I’m hungry,” he grumbled. “Can I drop you off and go and get some take-away for dinner at home tonight. I’ll be back to pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“Sure thing,” she murmured, her mind already miles away composing her article on the man she loved.

Chapter 5

Smash and Grab

Wednesday morning, 27^th March

Crunch, tinkle. It was almost silent as the car’s rear side window was stove in. It was an older car without the auto-key locking systems, so the break-in did not trigger a car alarm. Once he had access into the rear compartment, the teenage lad reached over to the locked passenger door and opened it. A few minutes later he had discovered and taken anything of value in the centre console, glove box, side pockets, back seats and the boot.

The laptop hidden under the towel on the floor of the back seat was worth his trouble. The cash in the car’s side pocket was an added bonus. The credit card hidden in the central console maybe had some value, but it would need to be exploited quickly and surreptitiously before it was reported stolen. It had to be done in a business without CCTV cameras and there were not many of them nowadays. The boot had nothing.

He stowed his booty in a backpack and joined his two fellow car crashers. Each had found an opportunity in the large picture theatre parking area. They sauntered away to where their old bicycles were parked in a nearby alley, away from the prying eyes of any CCTV cameras. Pooling of their plunder revealed a few items of value, but not enough yet for their purpose. They put aside the couple of credit cards opting not to try to use them. It wasn’t worth the dangers of purchases in stores that may or may not have cameras focused on their customers. Time to move on to another location.

The shopping mall was their next hit. It didn’t have the long-expected period for undisturbed parked cars during the screening of a film, so they had to plan carefully. They watched for the arrival of an old station wagon, checking the type of driver. The girl in the group of plunderers followed the middle-aged male driver into the shopping centre, chatting on her mobile phone, watching his every move. Immediately the driver was out of sight, the other two boys acted on the rear side window of his car. One of them monitored the phonecall at all times so they could be forewarned. Also, he was the lookout to ensure that there were no other people about the nearby scene to observe them. In ten minutes all three were back to their bicycles to pool the spoils. It was now much more than enough.

This car had given up a satchel of cash, a patched All Angels bikie jacket and a gun under a bedroll in the back of the station wagon. The money was in large and small used notes, and a quick estimate put the total of just over five thousand dollars. The gun was a small pistol, but these kids didn’t know anything about the make, calibre or the weapon’s capabilities.

They sent the girl Donna into the merchant store to do the exchange. Inside a large plastic shopping bag, she handed over the gun, laptop, two credit cards and a few sundry items. No cash. That would be used later. One of the boys wanted to keep the bikie jacket for a souvenir to wear ‘dressed up’ at classmate’s parties.

“How many bags for these?” she enquired in a trepid voice.

The merchant put the shopping bag out of sight below his counter and bent down to examine the contents.

“Nothing for the credit cards, but the rest is worth about $400,” he considered after assessing his profit margin and risk. “I can let you have one packet containing twenty grams. That’s enough for over forty smokes.”

Donna nodded. In return she was quietly passed another plastic shopping bag, containing the drugs they all craved for. Marijuana. Without the weed they would not have the need nor the greed to smash into cars for the cash.

#

“Boss. I’ve been robbed.” The phone call from Geraldton to a mansion in South Perth startled Psycho, the usually placid underworld leader.

“What happened?” was the reply.

“My station wagon side window was smashed into and the takings from Carnarvon were stolen from the back. They took my gun and my club jacket too, while I was shopping for some lunch at the Geraldton supermarket.”

“You know you can’t report it there Johnno. Drive away now. Get it fixed in Perth. Avoid all contact with any people, especially the cops.”

“But what about my gun. I need it for protection up here. There are members of the other bikie gangs everywhere.” Johnno Johnston was upset. “It was my best club jacket too.”

Psycho Miller was leader of the All Angels bikie gang in Perth. He and his gang had suffered physically and financially in last year’s feud with the now defunct Gero Garbage Bikie Gang from Geraldton. The All Angels had survived, but the police were keeping a close watch on any of their activities that they could uncover. Geraldton had been cleared of bikies, but only temporarily. The demand was there, so most of the Perth Bikie gangs had established small outlets there, but they no longer manufactured mainline drugs in Geraldton.

The All Angel’s couriers used older cars to blend in by not visibly appearing in the sparkling sedans of the modern drivers. Each had a station wagon so they could drop the back seats and spread out a bedroll to sleep. That saved them the need to book into a motel and become digitally noticed. Ian (Johnno) Johnston and John (Stoney) Stone toured the north of the state delivering ice and collecting cash, always keeping a low profile. They were Psycho Miller’s trusted lieutenants and couriers.

#

The three kids celebrated their win with a joint, smoked on the Town Beach, before all riding their bicycles the eight kilometres back to their respective family homes in Deepdale, one of the outermost eastern suburbs of Geraldton.

“Cheers,” celebrated Trevor holding up his smouldering reefer, and turned slowly around to show off his stolen All Angels jacket.

“Down the hatch,” echoed Donna and Peter[ks1] , his two fellow car crashers. Peter followed up with adding a warning comment. “Trev, I don’t think it’s a good idea to wear that jacket out in public. It’s very highly visible and the owner may spot you. If he really is an All Angels bikie you may end up really badly beaten or dead.”

They all took deep drags on their smokes, and then Trevor removed the jacket and folded it inside out.

“School holidays next week,” exclaimed Peter. “With this lot of weed we will get to party hard with the mob at the break-up party on Friday night.”

“Where did Tran get to today. He was originally going to come with us into town,” claimed Trevor.

“Last Monday, he told me that he was going to go it alone, to try something different,” replied Donna.

“Oh well, I guess he missed out on this party,” concluded Peter.

Chapter 6

Barney and Zep

Wednesday afternoon, 27^th March

That morning in the office was dull, just bookwork. They were all waiting for the results of Dr. Laura Chelva’s autopsy, and the forensics from the body.

Doctor Chelva expected to have preliminary results by late afternoon, or early next day. She had done a tox-screen on the blood, finding nothing but a very high level of THC so let them know immediately that he was a regular cannabis user. His stomach contents were sampled and sent to Perth laboratory for analysis. The rest of the body autopsy would take time, and the report would come later.

The forensics would take longer, as they had been advised that Doctor Chelva’s autopsy crew had sent many samples off to the Perth laboratories for analysis. From the blood and saliva around the neck wound they hoped to identify the type of dog, and maybe even later identify the actual dog. From the victim’s clothing they hoped soil analysis could pinpoint a region in Geraldton where the murder took place. From skin and hair samples they could maybe identify the individual.

An article had been published that Wednesday morning by Carleen Carmello in the Geraldton Guardian. It stated they had an unidentified young male body but gave no details.

In the meantime, they waited.

#

“There’s a report from the front office of three cars being broken into in the theatre car park,” Zep Marcon announced as he put down the office phone. Who feels like a change of scenery?

Detectives Chris Wilson and Roger Knight both raised their eyebrows as a sign that they were prepared to go. But Barney Merrick jumped to his feet, collecting his gear, and keenly announced, “Looks like it’s you and me Boss.”

Zep sighed inwardly and grabbed his gear and car keys. It was at least an out-of-office change from the basic computer data entry and review of past cases.

Fifteen minutes later they were inspecting one of the broken car windows. Two other patrol cars were beside the other two victim’s vehicles scattered among the parked assembly.

“There’s probably not much chance that they left any fingerprints or DNA,” sighed Barney. “It all looks too slick to have been done by amateurs.”

“You never know,” replied Zep. “Let’s get it done. It’s too small a case to have to call out forensics over three little smash and grabs. They are now all tied up analysing the pigpen body.” He radioed the other two patrol cars to do the same.

They all spent an hour dusting and lifting prints and brushing for stray bits of personal hair, and then took the owners prints and cheek swabs for elimination purposes. No one objected, hoping to get the culprits who had violated their cars.

#

Back in the station the fingerprints and brushings were delivered to forensics designated with a low priority, while Barney and Zep deliberated over the list of stolen items from the three cars.

“Except for the computer, this haul looks like a waste of time,” commented Barney. “There’s just a small amount of cash and a few trinkets. Maybe they will be careless and try to use the credit cards. We have already got digital trackers onto the use of them. These thieves got nothing for their efforts.”

“It’s not quite that,” interrupted Zep. “That new computer cost over $1500 and will probably get $600 to $700 on the black market. That is one item that we may be able to track if it is sold. I will send the details to Perth cybercrime squad for them to add to their search list on the internet sites like eBay and Gumtree and to notify the second-hand stores.”

#

Meanwhile the merchant was stuck with what to do with the pistol. It was a well-maintained Glock 17. He had sent off the laptop computer immediately, with battery separated, in a standard post-pack. It fitted nicely and he addressed it to ‘Happy Birthday Little Charlie’ and put ‘Uncle Ferdie’ as the sender on the back. The address of course was to his electronics fence via a post office box in Adelaide, South Australia. The post office x-ray would positively identify a laptop, but they would probably do little to intercept the child’s birthday present.

The gun was different.

The Postal Pixies x-ray machine would detect and confiscate it. The merchant thought about it for an hour or so before grabbing a toy tin train engine, an early model with a high cabin and a long boiler. He cut open the bottom of the boiler and cabin and wrapped the unloaded gun in additional tinfoil to change its shape and fit snugly into the toy, upside-down. The x-ray profile would just show a solid toy engine made of metal. He crossed his fingers and posted it off to his known firearms dealer in Sydney. The Sydney market was much bigger, and much further away from the original place of theft. At least the stolen goods were off his property within a few hours of receiving them.

Chapter 7

Missing a Fourth

Thursday morning, 28^th March

At school recess the three friends met in the school canteen to share a packet of potato chips. They looked around in vain for Tran, their usual fourth member.

“Has anyone heard from him?” asked Trevor.

“It’s not like him to take a day off school,” replied Donna. “He usually is so keen to do well in class. He always says that he has to do well for the sake of his family.”

“I hear that his parents were both boat people back in 1975,” added Peter. “And they still struggle as labourers in the tomato market gardens in those plastic covered sheds out in Deepdale. Tran works there too, in weekends when he is not studying to get to university, with his two brothers and two sisters who have been there already.”

“I am worried,” Trevor declared with concern. “There was a young bloke’s body found on Tuesday. It’s in this morning’s paper. Perhaps we need to talk to the police, so they can check with his folks. Tran said his parents were very reticent about contact with other people beyond the Viet community out in Deepdale.”

#

Zep put the phone down. “Front office got a message from some schoolkids saying their mate Tran Sip is missing. He lives out near the ‘Tomato Patch’ in Deepdale, and it’s not like him to be missing school.”

“The ‘tomato patch?’” queried Barney.

“That’s that collection of over 120 massive hot houses out near the airport where they grow vegetables under cover,” explained Zep.

“Do we have an address?” asked Barney.

“Yep,” Zep grabbed his keys. “His parents work in the ‘Tomato Patch’”

Barney and Zep arrived at one of the main residences on the Geraldton-Mount Magnet Highway. They were directed to building number 73 by the owner, to find Chen and Leelin Sip. As they entered the glaring light of the plastic covered shed, they were amazed to see that it covered almost half an acre of ground, with rows of different vegetables disappearing into the rear of the shed. About half a dozen labourers were bending over, tending to the various crops, and they were directed towards a well-built man among the tomatoes. His wife was working beside him.

“Mr and Mrs Sip,” began Zep. “We are Geraldton detectives, and we hear that your son is missing from school. Do you know where he is?” Zep told them the reason for them being there to avoid the couple being panicked by strangers.

“He has been away for three nights, so I thought it may be a school excursion in the last week of term,” was the reply from Chen. “He didn’t say anything about it. Is he in some sort of trouble?”

“I am Senior Detective Zep Marcon, and this is Detective Barney Merrick,” said Zep, to identify themselves as it appeared that they may need to reveal some bad news to the parents. “Can you give us a description of your son.”

The details provided by the father closely matched the build, height and hair of the corpse, plus his skin tone was very similar too. Zep sombrely broke the news that their son may be deceased, and Mr Sip would be needed to identify the body.

Barney and Zep drove Chen and Leelin Sip to the morgue. To take their minds off the task they had to perform, Barney asked Chen where they had come from.

“We were refugees from Vietnam. After the USA and allied forces evacuated from the country at the end of the Vietnam War in 1975, we were part of the mass exodus of 800,000 people who fled everywhere. We became Boat People in 1978. It is estimated that at least another 200,000 drowned at sea. After the Geneva Conference in 1989, there were established resettlement plans for legitimate refugees but those who failed to qualify were returned to Vietnam. This saw the flood stopped by 1992. About 1.6 million refugees were resettled abroad, and we were two of the hundred thousand Vietnamese who were allowed to settle in Australia by 1997.

We were both young teachers in Saigon, so not trusted by the new government, and our jobs were handed over to two teachers from North Vietnam. After 3 months in a re-education camp being brainwashed, we were sent to the commune farms to grow rice in the paddy fields. Working twelve hours every day just to earn our food was not pleasant, so we decided to flee the country. Our home had been confiscated so we left on a boat with just the clothes on our backs. We were luckier than many others and made it to Singapore, where resettlement to Australia was allowed for some. We were unable to teach here as we had no documentation. So, we raise tomatoes and other vegetables with more of our people around us. But we are all free, and we are paid a decent basic wage and have our own homes to bring up our families.”

The body was Tran.

Both of the parents had insisted on seeing if it was their son. They had grown up through war, death and torture so had strong constitutions. But it was different when their own flesh and blood was involved. They were devastated. Doctor Laura Chelva had tried to make the corpse presentable, but it was still too much of a shock.

Chen and Leelin were inconsolable in the sitting room. Zep, Barney and Laura sat with them. Barney hoped that a few questions might take some of the pain away for a time, so he asked. “Was Tran your only child?”

“We have four other children, no longer children but all are grown-up. Two are still at university and two are in medicine in Perth hospitals,” Chen bravely answered with a choke in his voice.

“Tran was our youngest,” added Leelin, also with a sob.

“Do you know where he was last Monday night?” Zep asked Leelin. “He has been missing since then.”

“No. Like Chen said, we thought he was on a school excursion.” Leelin sobbed quietly into a tissue provided by Laura Chelva.

“Does he have any friends that he may have been with?” Barney enquired.

“There are Donna, Trevor and Peter who live around here in Deepdale, but I don’t know their addresses,” explained Chen. “They are all in the same senior classes at the high school.”

#

A short time later, Barney and Zep had delivered the grief-stricken Sip parents to their home which was close to the plastic covered sheds where they worked. Several close-by neighbours who were known to be friends of the couple were contacted by the Viet community to be with them. A phone call to the high school office had determined the three students’ full names and three separate addresses. School classes had finished for the day, so the students were probably at home.

The detectives conducted three distinct interviews with Donna, Trevor and Peter, the school friends of the deceased Tran Sip, while their respective parents were present, but they failed to get any idea where Tran went on Monday night.

That afternoon, Barney was just a few minutes late for football training.

Chapter 8

Team Spirit

Thursday afternoon, 28^th March

“Can we meet?” Peter asked the other two, using the conference setting on his mobile phone, after the detectives had gone.

“Okay, the usual place,” replied Donna and repeated by Trevor.

Ten minutes later they were all in a small shed at the back of one of the small Deepdale farms, with their bicycles also parked inside.

“We need to do something for Tran,” began Peter. “We all carefully avoided telling the police anything because our parents were right there and may have got the wrong idea.”

“But we don’t know where he went,” admitted Trevor. “The paper just said a body was found, but not where.”

“Yes, but we do know he was probably out chasing weed,” conceded Peter. “And there are not many outlets in Geraldton, and probably only a few local growers.”

“So, you think he was killed by one of the distributors or one of the growers,” declared Donna.

“That’s my thoughts,” revealed Peter.

“We can’t be seen to be directly involved, or we will be found out and arrested for car breaking and stealing,” pondered Donna. “I was the one who fronted the weed merchant so I can be identified.”

“Here’s how I see it,” Peter laid out his plan.

“Tomorrow I will use one of the library computers at school to type and print an anonymous letter to the detectives. In plastic gloves mind you. I will state that Tran was a drug user and may have broken into a business or farm to steal weed. That’s all. No names. No places. At least it will focus the cops on that likely direction. I will destroy the file and its backup after printing. Then I will drop the letter in the mail using a self-adhesive stamp with ‘Barney Merrick, police’ cut from the newspaper and glued on to the clean envelope. No fingerprints on anything.”

They all agreed.

#

Barney joined the players during their warm-ups, a couple of 400 metre laps around the oval, followed by warm up stretches and then a dozen hundred metre sprints. During the ball handling skills sessions, Barney, as the new team captain, stood aside with Coach Cocker and observed the players. He spoke about the strengths of team members as he saw them, and who needed extra guidance. Brad Cocker was pleased with Barney’s input as he had already noticed most of the players mentioned.

Then into the match practice session. The teams were as before, with the Red Team captained by Barney and the Yellow Team by Bill Armstrong. Before they started, Bill had a few words to say about the coming Half Marathon on Saturday. They had a full team and five others doing either the half marathon or the ten kilometres. A couple of brave youngsters from the reserves team were entered for the full marathon.

Then it was Barney’s turn to speak. “Most of us have been playing together for a few years so we should know a fair bit of each other’s moves. In today’s training run I want you to focus on using that knowledge to your own advantage. But also start thinking about whether you yourself are too predictable. So, vary your own moves to put the opposition off. However, do not sacrifice your own real skills by just trying to be different.

Now, you juniors who are new to the team will need to start observing other players. Watch for and analyse their moves. We are all training ourselves for when we front up to other teams. Good luck fellas. Have fun.”

Before the scratch match started, Barney thought carefully about his own predictable movements. He knew he had good instincts, but he also had a pattern of play based on his right foot strength. He could turn and kick both ways but favoured kicking with his right foot and turning anticlockwise to favour that kick. For today he decided to only do the left foot kicking.

From the very first bouncedown, the ruckman skilfully palmed the ball to Barney and he was off and running around the back of the pack in his usual clockwise direction. He suddenly changed direction, split through the pack of players as it opened out, and found himself in the clear. He heard Bill Armstrong swear from the back of the pack where he had been waiting to ambush him. “Merrick, you bastard. Play fair.”

The players all around laughed at the great demonstration lesson. For the remainder of the play, Barney was able to see the efforts of all players trying to work on learning the suggested new skills.

He was happy that he was starting to make an impact.

#

Later as the team made its way from the ground, Barney was approached by one of the real youngsters of the team. Liam Sampi was just seventeen and had been recruited from Broome in the North-West into the Railways colts’ side to develop him into a league player.

“Boss, I need your advice,” he requested, as he put one hand on Barney’s arm.

“Sure Liam,” Barney paused to let the rest of the team go past. He had recognised the youngster because of his emerging talent. “What’s on your mind?”

“My family in Broome has let me come to Geraldton to go to upper school here and also play football. I am staying with my Uncle Tommy who the family has put in charge of me. Things are working out well so far.”

“So what is the problem?” Barney sensed an underlying difficulty.

“My uncle says that I am too good for Geraldton football so is trying to organise me to sign for East Fremantle down in the Perth city league. I will not have any family or friends there and it will take me out of school part way through my final year twelve courses.”

“Don’t you have any say in that?” asked Barney.

“In the Aboriginal culture we are brought up through to manhood by one of our uncles. He was selected by my family and tribe, so in this case he will have the final say on my future football.”

“How far advanced are the negotiations?” inquired Barney.

“He is having a contract drawn up by the player manager of East Fremantle, ready for signing. My Uncle Tommy Sampi, as my football agent and manager, will be getting twenty percent of all that I earn, so he is making sure it is a strong contract that I can’t get out of.”

“Give me your phone number and I’ll look into it,” promised Barney. “Where do I find him?”

PART THREE

Chapter 9

Half Marathon

Saturday morning, 30^th March

It was bigger than Ben Hur. The crowd of people filled the limited space on the Geraldton Foreshore. Parking was a problem. But it was organised chaos. This was the annual Geraldton Harriers Marathon and other associated races.

Barney, in his usual pre-race preparation, had arrived very early to get a parking spot and do his warm-ups, and he was ready to go well before the official start time of the half marathon. He was keen to do better than his top 25^th position from a couple of years earlier, but work had begun to tell on his preparation during the summer months. He was football match fit, but not marathon runner fit. Just before the start, he wandered among the crowd of runners giving encouragement to his fellow Railways teammates.

“Off they go in the Harriers Half Marathon,” bellowed the loudspeaker as the starting hooter sounded. Barney paced himself for the first part of the race until he reached the halfway turnaround marker at 10.5 kilometres. Then he increased his tempo in order to finish fast and in front of most of the field of 300 runners. Barney was tiring but he knew there was less than 500 metres along the foreshore road to the finish.

Suddenly a searing pain ripped across his chest and his right bicep. Totally shocked he missed his step and was off balanced. He collapsed to the roadway. Several spectators stepped in to help.

“There’s blood across his chest,” someone screamed. “His arm too.”

“Get a medic,” another person called.

Barney was gently rolled onto his back, so that his chest could be attended to. His chest stung but his arm was in pain.

“He has been shot,” was the next call. Barney tried to get up but failed.

An ambulance attendant began applying pressure to a wound on his upper arm to stop the flow of blood.

“Shot?” mumbled Barney in confusion. With near exhaustion and the sudden onset of searing pain, Barney succumbed to mental oblivion.

#

He awoke in hospital in mid-afternoon. Zep was sitting beside the bed and announced, “That was too close youngster.”

Barney took a deep breath, which stretched the chest bandages and caused a burning surface pain. Barney tried that again with a similar result. “So, I am going to be fine?” he dazedly queried Zep. “So, it’s just a scratch?”

“You were lucky. The bullet passed across your chest and your arm creating a shallow furrow in the chest and a bit deeper in the arm. Luckily it missed any bones. A few millimetres wider and it would have missed you altogether.”

“So what happened?” inquired Zep.

Barney started to relive the experience, and in his mind he became the analytical detective. He spoke out loud, “I am alive, and I heard nothing. So the gun was a long way off or it had a silencer or both. I was running along the foreshore, and the shot has gone across the right side of my chest and over the front of my right arm, so the shot came from my front left and from in the city.”

Zep thought carefully before saying anything. “The doctor showed me a picture of the graze across the chest, and it is not quite horizontal, but from a slightly elevated gun position. It has to be from a distance and from a higher point in the city. From what you say, the direction indicates the Jerrel Apartment Hotel Building. It has height and the direction and is about 200 metres away from where you were on the foreshore. I’m off now to check it out.”

“If it’s just a graze I should be able to come with you,” begged Barney.

“Not after that shock and a twenty-kilometre run. Get some rest.,” Zep ordered.

“Yes master,” Barney relaxed.

#

Zep introduced himself to the manager and was shown to the roof area. One side of the building was a rooftop bar and café which seemed to be always in use. The other side was higher and deserted except for air conditioner machinery and ducts. A low wall ran around the edge.

Zep crossed to the seaward side and could easily see the site on the foreshore where Barney was shot. There was, however, only a brief window of opportunity to take the shot between the buildings in the foreground before the runner would be out of sight. The shooter would have to know when Barney was entering the target area. There must have been another person on the foreshore as a spotter.

Looking along the low retaining wall, he noticed a place where a few scratches on the brickwork indicated where a rifle tripod had jolted with the recoil. There was no brass, so the shooter had cleaned up after shooting, assuming the ejection went in the usual backwards direction. He checked along the ground four stories below but was unsuccessful.

There were no CCTV cameras within the Jerrel Hotel building or nearby street that recorded the access or exit of any shooter with equipment. Zep called in the other two Detectives Chris Wilson and Roger Knight with half a dozen uniformed police to help him check out the 30 occupied guest rooms in the hotel. There were only four single males and two single females to check on, the rest being unlikely couples or families. They were unsuccessful identifying a likely shooter but at least they had recorded all the details of the guests.

#

Barney awoke later that night in hospital with a raging thirst. He was still parched in spite of the hydrating drip in his arm. He thought about pressing the buzzer so turned over to reach for it. There sat Carleen.

“So, at last you are conscious,” she whispered and leaned over to kiss him. “We were all worried.”

“I’m okay,” he replied manfully. “But I need a drink.”

“Beer or water?” she began, paused, but then continued. “No. Wait. This is a hospital. It will have to be water.” She reached for the water jug and a paper cup on the side table.

“Bummer,” Barney exclaimed. “Just when you got my hopes up.”

“How do you feel?” Carleen asked.

“Ready to get out of here and find the bastard who did this,” he spoke with venom. “Any word from Zep?”

“He called in around 7:00 p.m. and said they had finished searching the Jerrel Apartment Building. He discovered a sniper site but found nothing else, but I am not allowed to report any of this. The search was called off until tomorrow.”

“I had one idea just before I dozed off this evening,” he recalled. “The bullet fired must be in the lawn on the foreshore in a direct line from the Jerrel and where I went down. It would need a few men with metal detectors scanning the grounds. I will let Zep know now.”

Zep was pleased to hear his voice on the mobile phone but grumbled anyway. “Jeez youngster, you know how much I need my beauty sleep. But I’m so glad you are okay.”

“I’ll get it done,” Zep confirmed after Barney explained.

Chapter 10

Shooter Analysis

Sunday morning, 31^st March

Zep supervised three uniformed constables on the foreshore grassed area early next morning. They had laid out tape to help them do a meticulous grid pattern search within the expected alignment. He was totally surprised when Barney and Carleen walked up.

“What in blue blazes are you doing here?” exclaimed Zep.

“There was a medical emergency in the bed next to me in my ward, and a doctor was present. So I pulled rank and told him there was a killer on the loose. I forced him to give me the once over and sign my release form. So, with a new dressing and a willing driver, here I am boss. Ready for duty.”

“Barney. You’re an idiot who should be still in hospital.” Zep frowned. “But since you are here, go over and lay down next to that blood spot on the ground and look like you are dead. Carleen. If he moves around, please sit on his sore chest. We will try to backtrack to the location of the shot. Talk us through it.”

Thirty minutes later, the revised search pattern had produced about thirty bottle caps and one bullet from under the surface of the grass.

“Our first success,” shouted Barney. “I hope Perth can find a match.”

Carleen, with a reporter and photographer’s eye, looked at the distant sniper’s position and then along the beach road. “When did the shooter know Barney was coming?” she deliberated aloud.

“I considered the same thing and assumed there was a spotter along that road,” agreed Zep. “But there is no CCTV in the area to identify any second man.”

“But there was a crowd,” exclaimed Carleen. “And many of them were taking pictures of the contestants from both sides of the road. How about I run an article in tomorrow’s paper asking for pictures of the race just there, along that road, to be sent to the Guardian by phone or email or even in paper form. Someone in the crowd of spectators may be visibly out of place.”

“That’s a great idea, if your boss will allow it,” claimed Zep. “It may even turn into a newspaper story for you.”

“I may even be able to lend a hand analysing the photos during my period of recouperation away from real police work,” Barney added.

“I had a few thoughts about the shooter or shooters,” reflected Zep. “You have been in Geraldton for close on nine years. You’ve made arrests and perhaps a few enemies but none that live in Geraldton who might want to kill you. I firmly believe that the sniper has come from outside the town.”

“So we need to concentrate on strangers from out of town,” agreed Barney.

“Okay youngster,” solemnly spoke Zep. “You have just done a day’s work so go home and rest up. And by the way I will be stationing a couple of armed TRG men around your place to prevent a second attack that may be more successful.”

#

“Sorry Coach,” grumbled Barney at football practice on that same afternoon. “It looks like you will be without my on-field presence for a few weeks.”

“Yeah,” Brad Cocker replied. “I heard about you being shot. I’m surprised to see you walking around, and with the armed escort.” He nodded towards the two TRG guards maintaining all round surveillance in the distance.

“The doctor says it will take a week or two for the surface skin to heal over, so I should be ready for the start of the season,” considered Barney.

“Let’s not rush these things Merrick,” replied Brad Cocker. “I want to play fully fit players this early in the season, and not take risks, so we will consider you when we all know that you are ready.”

“Can I have a word to the team during your next break?” Barney asked.

“Sure thing,” he answered, calling a break immediately.

“Fellows,” began Barney. “I apologise for not being out there to lead you in this run up to the start of the season. Most of you would have heard that I got shot during the half marathon yesterday, in which we came fifth in the GNFL Challenge. Many of you would have seen the scene when you were forced into a detour along the beach pathway. I wanted to ask you all if you had seen any strangers around in town, in the club or just hanging around, that looked out of place. This shooter is likely not from Geraldton, so may become visible to us.

I don’t know how much danger I am in being out and about, like on this exposed oval. I will also have to keep away from practice here so that I don’t expose youse guys to the same danger. But I want to get that shooter. Will you keep a look out for me?”

“You bet Barney,” was the general consensus.

#

Following the footy training, Barney offered to have the TRG drivers take him and young Liam Sampi home so that he could meet his Uncle Tommy. He was feeling the pain, but he knew he had to work through it, to be able to get things done. When they arrived at the Homeswest house in the public housing estate area of Rangeway, he asked the two TRG officers to remain in the car while he fronted the uncle on the doorstep. He was dressed in his training gear, a Railways Football Club track suit and white sneakers.

“Mr Sampi. My name is Barney Merrick,” he started saying.

“Barney, you friggin legend,” exclaimed Tommy. “I hear that you are now Captain of Railways. Congratulations.” And he moved swiftly out to vigorously shake Barney’s right hand. Barney collapsed to his knees in pain. Liam rushed to his aid and the uncle backed off in apprehension. “What happened? What did I do?”

“It’s nothing Tommy. It’s just an injury acting up,” grimaced the detective. “I need to talk to you about young Liam here.”

“Ain’t he something?” Tommy Sampi beamed with pleasure, looking at the boy. “He’s got talent and he’s smart at his studies.”

“That is what I want to talk to you about,” began Barney. “As the team captain I have been watching the way he moves, and I am impressed. He shows a lot of promise and when he fills out he will make a great league footballer.”

“He is great now,” bragged the uncle.

“No! He is not. He is a good colts player, and may get to play some reserves games this season, but he is too small and undeveloped. That means he may be easily injured in heavy clashes unless he is strengthened up properly.”

“But …,” the uncle tried to interrupt.

“And he is in his final year of high school with a lot of potential there too,” Barney persisted. “He needs this year in Geraldton to fully develop both physically and mentally.”

“But I’ve seen him in action,” argued the uncle.

“Have you seen how easily he goes down? Have you seen the pain on his face on the ground? That kid has got guts and keeps getting right back up. But those heavy knocks are taking their toll on his psyche. Too much of that will wear away his stamina and resolve and burn him out before he is able to really be great. Give him time to fill out. And let him finish his school properly. He can be great at football and in a career after football as well. It’s the choice that both of you have to make, especially you as his uncle and guardian of his development into manhood.”

“But …,” the uncle was still wavering.

“We at Railways will be looking after his development with physical body and mental training programs. We want the best for him. Please reconsider your plans to send him to Perth too early.”

Barney left him to think it over.

Chapter 11

Forensics

Monday morning, 1^st April

“Perth labs say it will be a few days before they can track that bullet, but the forensic report on the body from the pigpen is interesting,” Zep told Barney over the phone the next morning. “Are you up to doing any work today or are you going to slug-a-bed all day?”

“Boss, have a heart. It’s almost ten o’clock in the morning and you want me to start work already. Carleen left two hours ago, and I’m doped up on heavy painkillers for a day or two, so I shouldn’t be driving.”

“Get a cab, princess,” scoffed Zep, but then added, “On second thoughts, you can probably get a lift in with the TRG blokes. They need a bit of down time while you are lounging about in this office.”

Barney nonchalantly strolled into the office a little later. “So, what’s up?”

“Forensic analysis on the clothes of the pig pen victim showed up under ultraviolet light and a mass spectrometer that he was rolled about considerably among growing marijuana plants,” Zep stated bluntly. “There are leaf scrapings and stem sap all over the clothes and shoes. And probably all over the rest of the body too but the blood, the pigs and the mud may have distorted those surfaces.”

“Green Marijuana,” pondered Barney, and after a very long pause for thought, he added. “It looks like our boy was attacked and killed by guard dogs in an illegal growing patch. So, now we need to find that patch.”

“We can use the arial search from the Agricultural Department that identifies the different crops being grown,” continued Zep. “Under special infra-red filters, the different leaf chemicals and moisture content are distinct, so Marijuana will stand out in a garden of other crops. They have the whole State already surveyed, so we can ask them to refine a search onto Geraldton.”

“Speaking of patches,” considered Barney. “Young Tran lived in the ‘Tomato Patch’ district so perhaps he was close to home when he was attacked and killed. Maybe afterwards the body was transported far away to be dumped in Spalding Park to eliminate any suspicion from the Deepdale area where he was likely attacked.”

“We can start there,” Zep reached for his phone.

#

Two hours later the Agriculture Department rang back. “We have micro checked the arial scans for the whole of the Geraldton District as far out as 50 kilometres. We found three likely Marijuana growing sites, and a few single bushes dotted here and there around town. They are as follows ...”

After Zep finished the call, Barney added “We probably will not need to check the single bushes right now, as the amount of foliage and sap all over the body indicates quite a few plants were damaged by the attack. If necessary, we can look into those illegal singles later when we have the time and manpower.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Barney went home to rest and recuperate while Zep organised simultaneous raids on the three illegal cultivation places with all the manpower he could muster. At the end of the day Zep phoned Barney to tell him the news.

“We have shut down two commercial crops of cannabis and one old fellow who planted more weed than he really wanted for personal use. None of these places had ruined bushes or any guard dogs. The old fellow had a silky terrier that would probably slobber and lick you to death.”

“Well,” considered Barney. “If an aerial search did not find it, it looks like the crop was grown under a roof, in a house or in a shed. Maybe even in one of those ‘Tomato Patch sheds growing among all the other vegetables. The arial scan would not see through the plastic covering of those sheds.”

“Bugger,” exclaimed Zep. “Now I suppose we will have to physically search every one of those 110 sheds.”

“Ring me when you have finished,” Barney signed off.

Chapter 12

Johnno Johnston

Monday morning, 1^st April

“Time to travel again,” Psycho Miller called to Johnno. “We have to make sure that we are being seen on the road by the other gangs or they will muscle in on our outlets. As it is, we only own one business in Geraldton, that tattoo parlour in the CBD. We really need to expand our holdings there.”

“What about the cops. Those Geraldton cops organised the raid on our Perth headquarters last year,” Johnno spoke out warily. His boss Psycho was not always receptive to any argument from his men. “And I spent two years in the slammer after they got me for arson in the year before.”

“Do the Carnarvon run to restock their supplies and collect the cash,” ordered Psycho to silence any further argument. “On the way back check into the Geraldton tattoo parlour. Make sure you do it stealthily. See if they can recommend any new business for our expansion. Then have a quiet look around for yourself. You know what we need to increase turnover.”

“What about my gun?” Johnno continued with another grumble. He brought up the subject that had been bothering him for almost a week. “My replacement piece hasn’t arrived yet. I really shouldn’t be transporting any of our products and cash without some protection. I am well known to the other cycle gangs, and they might take advantage at any time.”

“They don’t know that you aren’t carrying,” replied Psycho. “And we ordered another Glock 17 from a supplier last week. It should be here in a few days.”

“So perhaps I should wait until it arrives,” suggested Johnno. “Or maybe use yours for the trip.”

Psycho glared at him. “Borrow Stoney’s when he gets back in this afternoon. He won’t be doing another Newman Run, up the inland highway towns for a few days.”

The All-Angels Bikie Gang were definitely not happy with the Geraldton Police Department. Admittedly they had cleaned out the Gero Garbage Bikie Gang and sent them back to South Australia. But they had also raided their own East Perth Headquarters, jailed some of their soldiers and confiscated the Mini Bike Club when it was found to be a front for drugs, sex and money laundering. Psycho was lucky to avoid jail because he had no visible connections with his front-man manager at the club. Other bikie clubs had moved quietly into the temporary void in the Northbridge nightlife.

Johnno loaded his old station wagon with enough methylamphetamine and other drugs to provide Carnarvon and Geraldton, and the few small towns between, with the weekly demand. It was tightly packed and hidden inside the door panels. That particular hiding place had been a problem earlier in the week when the whole car required to be cleared of all drugs and hidey holes. The rear window smashed outside the supermarket in Geraldton needed to be replaced in a local Perth repairs garage, so the door needed to look like a standard door.

Stoney wasn’t happy when he handed over his prized possession gun, but as Johnno had insisted, “Boss’s orders.”

Johnno arrived in Geraldton after sundown, refuelled and drove on. A little over a hundred kilometres later he pulled into a public camping ground beside the Galena River Bridge and prepared for the night. Flowing under the bridge, the Galena River flowed slowly and peacefully into the Kalbarri National Park. With frogs, night owls and rippling waters babbling away during the night, Johnno slept well. That way he was refreshed and in Carnarvon for a takeaway breakfast at a fast-food drive-through at the start of the Tuesday.

#

Tuesday morning, 2^nd April

“So, how’s business,” was the first the gymnasium manager heard when Johnno arrived in the premises just after 10:30 a.m. He walked in, dressed in sweats with a towel thrown across one shoulder and a nondescript gym bag with its strap on the other shoulder. He nodded towards a side door. “Is the office empty?”

The manager nodded and they both went in. A few minutes later, extra supplies had been transferred out from the gym bag and cash was handed over.

“Have you anything to report?” enquired Johnno, and on learning that all was well, he left with the week’s drug takings.

The Methylamphetamine demand was quite lucrative for the All Angels. They had bought the gymnasium in Carnarvon as well as a tavern and an independent petrol station. They all helped to launder some of their illegal cash and also provided surreptitious outlets for the drugs. Geraldton was a little more difficult, as the earlier troubles there had made the law enforcers very wary of all businesses. After visiting the other outlets, Johnno drove into battle at Geraldton.

#

By late afternoon with a cap pulled down on his head, he walked into the Geraldton Tattoo Parlour, nodded to the receptionist and took a seat. A little while later he was shown into the end cubicle and through a door into the rear staff kitchen of the premises. As soon as he had finished with a tattoo on a customer the manager joined him to complete the usual exchange of drugs and cash.

“Have you been doing as we asked you, looking around for other businesses in Gero that may be useful outlets?” Johnno asked the tattooist.

“I saw something that you may be interested in,” he replied. “An old heritage lodging house in the city centre is up for sale. It’s two stories, the bottom floor dining room was converted to a pie shop many years ago, with the shop at the front and kitchen and baking oven in the rear. There are a couple of other businesses on the ground floor. They all rent from the owner of the building. The stairway to the second floor is next to the pie shop and leads upstairs to a reception area and about a dozen rooms. It became a brothel until it was shut down 20 years ago. But with the Prostitution Act of 2011 the Government wants all the free-range brothels moved out of the residential suburbs into the CBD. It’s well placed and an ideal time to buy in.”

“Sounds possible,” smiled Johnno. “I’ll drop by and suss it out.”

#

Barney was bored with the inactivity forced onto him by his chest graze. He hadn’t attended football training on this Tuesday because his presence at the venue was too predictable, and it was far too much of an open field for a sniper. As soon as Carleen came home from work, he insisted on a quiet walk within the town’s CBD, with a possibility of dining out later. As the two of them strolled quietly along, Barney caught sight of a man that he thought he should recognise. The man quickly turned into a side street and was gone by the time Barney strode there.

Johnno fled from Geraldton.

Chapter 13

Bikie Suspect

Wednesday morning, 3^rd April

After driving for 750 kilometres during the day, Johnno, nervous and fleeing, was in no fit state to drive the 430 more into Perth. He pulled into the turnoff at Devlin Pool beside the river and slept fitfully for over six hours in the rear of his station wagon. He felt a little remorse at the incident in which he was involved, three years earlier. This place still had that eerie feeling, the chilliness of death.

A little more refreshed, he was back on the road in the wee hours of the morning, stopping halfway for food and coffee at an all-night road cafe. Johnno called in on Psycho as soon as he arrived back in Perth just after six am. Psycho dozily answered the door while still pulling on a shirt.

“Boss. I nearly got caught in Geraldton.” he grimly informed Psycho. “As I was walking back to my car parked in the street, he turned up, coming towards me. It was that Merrick detective who sent me to jail. If he had caught me at my car with all of our gear in it, I was a goner.”

“Right, take a holiday out of the State until we find out what gives,” responded the Bikie boss. “You can access the security guard payroll account at the night club and go to Bali or New Zealand for a week with your girlfriend. I’ll replace it from the main night club funds as a bonus for you. You will be off that Gero run permanently from now on.”

“About Geraldton,” Johnno interrupted and received a scowl from Psycho. “The tattooist pointed me towards a very nice proposition. An old brothel used to exist in a heritage building that is up for sale. With the change of laws two years ago we could reinstate the brothel operation. It’s well situated in a quiet end of the city CBD.”

“I’ll get the Property Manager to look into it. By the way, your new gun arrived yesterday and is in the weapon’s store in the clubhouse. Now get going out of town.”

#

“I swear it was that All Angels Bikie Johnno Johnston in town last night,” Barney confronted Zep first thing in the office. “You know the one we arrested in North Perth for arson at the Tarcoola Bikies place. He got two years so by now he is back on the streets. Our streets.”

“So, he becomes our most likely suspect as the sniper,” added Zep. “He was arrested by you and is definitely from out of town. I’ll put out an All-Points Bulletin (APB) to have him detained for questioning. In the meantime, you should still keep a low profile just in case he tries again.”

“Okay Boss. But since I am here at work for a time, where are we up to in the search in the ‘Tomato Patch’”, asked Barney.

“I put six teams of uniforms onto the job, each with an inspector from the Department of Agriculture. Under the Biosecurity Act these inspectors have the legal authority to check for illegal and pest crops so we didn’t need search warrants. They were quite willing to lend a hand as it gave them full access to allow them to catalogue the entire ‘Tomato Patch’. After one day we have almost finished about fifty out of the 110 sheds, but so far without luck,” replied Zep. “Another full day should do it. Those sheds are massive humid hot houses, so the uniform lads are not at all happy.”

“Now for the million-dollar question. Have forensics found anything on the bullet that grazed me?” Barney was eager to come to grips with this one.

“It’s only been a couple of days, but I will check with them now,” Zep agreed.

The Perth Forensic Laboratory gave them a verbal report immediately. “The bullet matched up with one that was used in a shoot-up of a house in Sydney some three years ago. The bullet analysis report says that nobody was arrested but they think the incident was gangland related, and not a bikie feud.”

“Gangland?” pondered Barney. “And from Sydney?”

#

Johnno felt half naked without his Glock 17 close handy. It was a dangerous thing to have because he was not licenced to carry, but it gave him peace of mind. He visited the All Angels Headquarters in North Perth and accessed their secret and secure weapons vault to retrieve the gun. He was shocked.

“Boss, I went and picked up my gun,” he yelled over the phone. A long pause followed when neither knew whether to interrupt the other. “My new gun,” another brief pause was followed by, “is actually my old gun.”

“What the …” Psycho was non-plussed.

“You bought back the gun that was stolen from me in Geraldton,” Johnno blatantly asserted the obvious. “So who did you buy it from?”

“It was rapidly and covertly couriered from our usual gunsmith in Sydney, hidden in one of their available food freight trucks. We cannot contact them about it as their rule states ‘No Questions Asked’”.

“But I want that bastard who smashed my car window, took my gun and $5000, and caused me to drive four hundred kilometres on a cold night with a windy car,” vehemently blurted Johnno into the phone. “And I want my club colours jacket back.”

In spite of being told by Psycho to cool-it, Johnno demanded the name of the Sydney gunsmith. Psycho was very reluctant but slowly relented and gave him the gunsmith. Johnno breathed in heavily before he concluded, saying that that he was off on holidays as he had been ordered, but was going to Sydney instead. He couldn’t take his gun onto a plane but at least he wouldn’t need to produce a passport and could use one of his false ID’s.

Psycho sighed and signed off.

Chapter 14

Second Shots

Thursday, 4^th April

Five days after the shooting, Barney was off the pain killers and moving about much easier. The TRG trained officers were returned to normal policing duties, but Barney was recommended to carry a gun in a shoulder holster, just in case. Wherever he went it was a possible danger so all travel was done very warily. The chest wound made wearing a bullet proof vest quite painful, so he only wore it when moving outside.

For some of the previous afternoon, Barney had spent time with Carleen at the Geraldton Guardian offices scanning through photos sent by spectators on the foreshore road. There were disappointingly few photographs and there was little to see. So, he joined Zep at the office on Thursday because he needed to be active again.

“What’s the latest from the ‘Tomato Patch?” asked Barney.

“They finished up last night but found nothing except a few single plants among the whole 110 sheds. They were undamaged plants, so not our murder scene. By law, they had to be destroyed, but it won’t be long before the law on recreational cannabis may change,” suggested Zep as he contemplated the society’s change in sentiment to the drug.

“So where can we go from here?” deliberated Barney. “The murder location must be around somewhere. As I said before, I reckon it’s in a house or a garage, and we need a method to discover it.”

“I have an idea,” began Zep. “The cannabis needs light to grow. That is why we first looked into the plastic covered sheds which provide light for all the variety of plants in there. If it is growing inside, under a fully shaded roof it would need artificial light. They call it ‘Grow Light’ on the internet, and it is a combination of red light plus blue light. It can be incandescent globes or fluorescent tubes as long as it far enough away so that it doesn’t overheat the plants. It can’t be LED’s as they are not powerful enough so the must use those power hungry strong lights.

“A good idea but how do we see into these buildings?” challenged Barney.

“They all rely on electricity to power the lights, some greenhouses will run day and night to maximise the growth,” admitted Zep. “We have to tap into their demand for electricity.”

“How?” quizzed Barney.

“Firstly, we assume they are connected to the electricity grid and find all those houses who use far more power than you would expect from a residential building. The power companies can provide this data. We will tackle the biggest users first and work down the list. Possibly we should bias our early search into Deepdale first.”

Barney considered one problem. “There are some houses that are off grid, with solar power and storage batteries.”

Zep continued with his plans. “If we don’t find the Cannabis in the normal houses, we will use the registration data for off grid solar houses that probably have batteries. Batteries would be needed if they want to run the lights for 24 hours to maximise the growth. They had to buy the solar panels, maybe with or without batteries from the legitimate retailers. And most of them were given a rebate from the State Government when they set up their system. They are on the books somewhere. We will find them.”

“Zep, these are criminals, and they probably have a few clues,” claimed Barney emphatically. “They are unlikely to use the power grid to grow their crops as they would likely become traceable. While you tackle the high-power users, I will work on the off-grid solar users. We each will have a task, and some teams of police officers with an Agricultural Inspector in each team to do the on-site investigations.”

“Great idea, Junior. Let’s do it.”.

#

Barney and Zep spent the rest of that Thursday morning contacting the power company and the various solar companies. Zep was expecting the list of excess power users to be compiled and emailed through on Friday or early next week. However, Barney got a speedy reply from one of the several local solar companies and that afternoon he was given two off grid residences in town and three distant farms.

The decision to be immediately proactive was made. Zep contacted three teams of police and Agriculture Department inspectors, sending them out to the farmlands. One more team was assembled for the two in-town sites, and they would meet Barney and Zep at the first house in that late afternoon. As usual Zep insisted on driving, and they sped down Marine Terrace to the roundabout.

He was halfway into the turn when the windscreen suddenly spiderwebbed. Zeb yanked the wheel instinctively turning the car across the flat roundabout. Halfway through the turn another bullet shattered the rear side window behind Barney. A third thudded into the metal at the rear of the car. Zep floored the accelerator, and his pride and joy vehicle squealed away down the opposite direction from the first shot, weaving left and right to put off the shooter’s aim.

Zep glanced at Barney. He was alright, but Barney had a shocked expression and was staring at Zep’s right arm. He looked down to see bright red blood oozing from his own bicep. Then he felt it.

He turned the first corner, sped half a block and drove into the rear parking area of the police station that they had just left. Meanwhile Barney was on the car radio calling “Shots fired, shots fired, shots fired. Shooter is somewhere along the Marina Foreshore. Officer injured in the police rear carpark. Needs immediate assistance.” All hell broke loose as they pulled up. Police and office crew were everywhere.

Zep’s wounds on the front and rear of his arm were immediately pressurised and bound and he was rushed to hospital in a police car, with Barney sitting beside him adding reassurance. Police in body armour carrying weapons began pouring from the Police Station and into patrol cars. The four TRG officers stationed in Geraldton joined them. The senior TRG officer took command and began issuing instructions to all police. Sirens wailed as half a dozen patrol cars headed into the setting sun towards the Marina.

#

Zep was in the operating theatre for several hours as they performed microsurgery on repairing his bicep muscles. The bone was all-but missed with just a small surface nick.

Barney rang Shirley, rather than turn up on her doorstep. A policeman on the doorstep usually forebodes really bad news. She arrived and was comforted by Barney and Carleen with the news that it was ‘just a flesh wound.’

The surgeon arrived sometime later with the prognosis that Zep would need looking after with his arm in a sling for a month or two, but the wound would heal with no real long-term after-effects. Everyone was relieved.

Barney returned to the station after dark to find out what had happened after he and Zep left the Police Station. There was no good news. The senior TRG officer was just completing his report and explained to Barney that they did not find the shooter nor his shooting position. That would need to be investigated tomorrow in the daylight. Barney contacted Detectives Chris Wilson and Roger Knight to let them know that Zep would be okay and asked them to look for the sniper’s roost.

After more than a full day of running around, wearing his shoulder holster on his uninjured side, dodging bullets and comforting Zep, Barney was exhausted. He went home.

PART FOUR

Chapter 15

Plate Hunting

Friday 5^th April

The next morning when Zep awoke from his sedated sleep, he saw quite a crowd clustered around his bedside. Shirley was seated beside him holding his hand with two of his three teenage children, Billy and Jeannie, standing beside him. Andy was away in Perth at University. Barney and Carleen stood at the foot of the bed. After some quiet time for Zep with his children, Barney gave them some money to go and get some drinks and chips from a vending machine while he had words with Zep. Standing beside him, Carleen and Shirley listened intently.

“Your patrol car tells quite a story. The first shot had split the windscreen on the driver’s side. Zep, as the usual driver, you were the target this time. The second shot was likely aimed at my side and went through the back side window as you quickly spun the car. So, we are both still in danger from this assassin. There is now an armed guard stationed outside this ward, and I will be armed and wearing a vest wherever I go. I think Shirley and the kids should leave town for a time. Carleen too.”

Before Carleen could interrupt, he went on.

“The results of the five off grid solar house inspections were carried out by the teams and were negative. The farms were just well set up houses and farm equipment, too far out of the system to bother with joining the grid. Of the two town houses with large sheds, one was a commercial flower growing business and the other was a small ice works with big freezers needing lots of power.”

Barney then became serious.

“You too should join you family when you are out of hospital. With both of us on light duties it will just mean paperwork in the office for a few weeks. I can manage that, so its best you take a holiday to recuperate. I will stay within the Police Station for protection until we sort out this shooter.”

“Barney. Shut up,” snapped Zep. “I am coming back to work immediately. I want to get this bastard. We both want this sniper now. But I agree that the ladies and kids should leave to go to safety.”

Carleen was still standing there with her mouth open ready to say something, but the men kept butting in. She now joined the fray.

“Stop you blokes,” she cried. “I need to be here. I have contacts. I have skills. And I am the only fit one among you two. Shirley has to go for the children’s sake, but I am staying.”

Zep looked at Barney. Barney looked back at Zep, and then at Carleen, and meekly accepted her ultimatum, “Okay boss.”

#

Shirley and the two children agreed to go to Perth and stay with relatives for a week or so. She would take emergency leave from her English teaching job at high school. It was just one week away from school holidays and the children would take their schoolbooks and be home-schooled by their mother for that week.

After the family left the hospital, Barney and Carleen sat with Zep sitting up in his hospital bed and thought through some plans. Barney rang Detective Chris Wilson for an update on the investigation into the sniper’s nest, but nothing had been discovered yet.

“We know the shots came from the foreshore area, and there is just half a dozen buildings of two or more floors clustered there,” Barny contemplated aloud. “The surrounding area is low parking areas with streets leading back into the CBD. If we can’t find where the shooter was, we may have a chance of finding where he went afterwards.”

“Hundreds of cars move through that area daily,” considered Carleen.

Barney continued, “Yes but from 2:30 p.m. when the shooter fired, he would be making his escape not wanting to be trapped at that location. By foot or by car.”

“He won’t be on foot with his rifle, unless he ditched it somewhere,” figured Zep.

“Which isn’t likely as it could be traced back to him somehow,” Barney added. “So, he is likely to be in a car leaving the scene sometime just after 2:30.”

“That still leaves hundreds of cars on the move,” argued Carleen. “it’s a tourist spot, and a city car park.”

“Now for my point,” began Barney. “The 2010 Act that abolished car Rego stickers. We no longer must place stickers on our windshields to prove we have a registered car. Because of advanced wireless systems and license plate recognition software in cameras and police cars, our car licenses are regularly checked automatically. All car’s plates are scanned in certain areas, mostly just the plates without photographs unless they are speed cameras too. There are two of those CCTV cameras in the CBD and four more out on the highways. As well as those, there were six police cruisers racing into that location from the police station. Other cruisers answering the ‘shots fired’ call were coming in from outlying suburbs. All were automatically checking number plates.”

“Ah yes, so I see. We play with the software to find one car out of place,” conceded Zep.

“Yep,” Barney spelled out his idea. “There will still be hundreds of cars on the list, but we can rule out locals with Geraldton addresses if we are to agree that the shooter is from out of town. We will need to look for interstate plates if the shooter drove here with his gun, or Geraldton or Perth hire car plates if the shooter flew in and arranged to have his rifle bought or shipped here. Failing those options, we will look at other Western Australian plates and analyse the owners of those cars. There shouldn’t be more than a few dozen.”

“Why didn’t we think of this for the first shootings,” considered Zep.

“We can now,” added Barney. “Those cameras were working back then, so we may be able to pull out the historic data to cross-match for a car number plate common in both shootings.”

“That sounds great,” exclaimed Carleen, but then her face screwed up. “As long as the shooter did not ditch the gun and walk away. Perhaps it was thrown into the Marina and then he walked along the beach for miles.”

Barney had that covered too. “Many of the Marina boats, as well as the Marina Luxury Apartments, Skeetas Restaurant, and the Geraldton Museum along the foreshore have lots of CCTV to scrutinise the mobile public and protect the expensive pleasure fleet and Marina buildings. I will assign you the task to look at those camera feeds. You will be wearing a bullet proof jacket under your jumper and be accompanied by police officers. If there are any arguments, we will arrange a court order. Are you willing to do that?”

“Officer Carleen Carmello reporting for duty boss,” was her reply.

They left Zep to fade back into recuperative sleep while Barney and Carleen went to the police station to get organised. Carleen was fitted out with a bullet proof jacket, and a pair of armed TRG in a patrol car was assigned to her. She left.

#

Barney contacted the Perth Licensing Bureau and after a long talk with the senior manager, he was computer linked with Mitch Page, the vehicle registration technician with access to state-wide cameras. The first move was to access the feed from the five CCTV license cameras and the eleven police patrol cars in Geraldton from 2:30 onwards. There were just over a thousand cars scanned up until 6:30 p.m. By eliminating the Geraldton residents, they were now looking at just 67 vehicles.

There were just two with interstate license plates, and after cross matching these with the registrations from the other states determined that they were families on holidays. Seventeen were hire cars so these were put aside for later scrutiny. That left 38 plates from within Western Australia who were probably people on holidays. With a dedicated search by Mitch Page and a couple of licensing bureau assistants, he managed to eliminate 35 of those who had been at their current residential address for at least the previous six years, some had changed cars, but not addresses. Long term WA residents were unlikely snipers.

So with 17 hire cars and three unknown plates from WA, there were just 20 cars to study more closely. Of these, only four were moving within the first hour after 2:30 p.m. One was a Geraldton rental, two were different Perth rentals and the fourth was a company car of a Fremantle trucking business. The last one looked a bit suspicious, so was labelled ‘priority one’. The Perth CIB was contacted to determine what information they might have on that company, Was it legitimate? They would investigate and get back in touch later. All three of the rental companies were closed for the day so would be contacted first thing tomorrow.

Carleen returned just after dark with the news that she had collected a few video

recordings of movement in different locations along the Marina but nothing had stood out during her first observations. Nobody was walking past carrying anything like a concealed rifle. She would try for more cameras tomorrow.

Barney and Carleen decided on a nearby hotel room for the night, rather than go home into their own house in Mahomets Beach which could well be targeted by the sniper. It was a quick city back-street drive, less than a kilometre from the police station with both wearing vests.

Chapter 16

Sydney Gunsmith

Saturday 6^th April

“You sent a gun to Psycho Miller in Perth last week,” Johnno was unarmed in a room of six men. He knew that all of them were packing heat. This was the Parramatta mansion of ‘The Gunsmith’ in suburban Sydney. It was just one edifice among a suburb of large residential buildings along the riverside. As he arrived, he had been quizzed on his purpose, his bona fides were checked with Psycho in Perth and then he was carefully searched for weapons.

The room was an enclosed balcony with views of several small boats fishing and a ferry cruising up the river. The place oozed opulence with exquisite furniture, drapes and carpets. A few luxurious paintings decorated the wall, and they were definitely not prints. One man stood at the window just taking in the scenery, while the other five closely watched Johnno.

He faced the man at the window that he sensed was the most senior and spoke bravely. “The gun you sent to Psycho was for me. It was also the same gun that was stolen from me just days earlier. The thief also stole some of my other property and I want it back. You know who sent you the stolen gun and I want his name.”

“Go on,” countered the leader in almost a whisper.

“We have been good customers for many years and have always respected your ‘No Questions Asked’ policy. Until now. I lost face in front of my entire bikie gang, and I didn’t like it. I intend to sort out that thief. His name please … ?”

“Sounds reasonable. But if this comes back on us you are dead,” hissed the leader. It wasn’t a threat; it was a promise. He nodded to a sidekick who checked a laptop for the inventory.

He gave out the name of the merchant in Geraldton.

#

“What have you found out?” Zep was eager to be involved, even from his hospital bed, so he rang Barney’s mobile very early on that Saturday. He interrupted their leisurely breakfast in the hotel dining room. Barney wandered out of the room into the corridor and gave Zep a quick rundown of their discoveries on the previous afternoon.

“Well done Barney,” complimented Zep. “But be careful Junior, and be aware that, after shooting at us, the sniper may have holed up inside that set of buildings for a while before moving. You may need to expand your time for more than just one hour after 2:30 p.m.”

Half an hour later, back at the police station, Carleen was kitted-out and left with the two TRG support crew to finish checking the camera feeds at the Marina Foreshore. Barney began phoning the three car hire companies to get the details of the leasing individuals. The Geraldton airport rental was a Sydney couple who had flown in on Friday to be tourists around the Mid-West for the rest of the week. The two Perth car hire companies emailed the details of their rental clients. Both were Perth residents with old WA driving licenses and long term residences. That left the company car from the Fremantle business. The Perth CIB had yet to reply.

He rang them, apologising for the imposition onto their time, but a killer was stalking Geraldton. They were able to provide an early analysis of the Fremantle company. It was a new business within the last two years, contracting to freight goods across Australia. They have half a dozen trucks, as well as six delivery vans and four sedans. They were trying to break into the lucrative parcel delivery market across Australia, but are too small to be competitive, so they subcontract for the bigger companies when needed. Their trucks are smaller discards from the big companies.

With nothing specific gained from the Perth CIB information, Barney next contacted the Perth Licensing Bureau, again seeking to access to their camera tracking system. The same technician, Mitch Page was on duty and fully aware of his needs. He was asked over the phone for tracking to go back in time for a week, from the time of the first shooting at 10:15 a.m on Saturday 30^th March.

“No problem,” he replied, and he began extracting the data. Because it was the annual Geraldton Harriers Marathon along the foreshore, for the first five hours after that time there were just under three thousand cars checked, mostly by the main street’s CCTV. Only a few police patrol cars were on the move, so they added a few extra number plates to the total. Deleting the known Geraldton residents still left many visitors in cars, a total of around six hundred. This was going to be too many to be able to analyse, even within the first hour when there were 183 visitors into Geraldton moving about. The race had concluded around that time and many spectators were on the move.

Then Barney asked the question. “Is it possible to cross match the lists of the non-Geraldton cars after both shootings to find any common ones.”

“I can do that, but it will take a few hours to set up the search parameters,” replied Mitch after several moments deep in thought. “I will ring you back when I have finished the search.”

Carleen arrived with a skip in her step. “There were just two cameras on the land side of the block, but six more all facing the Marina Boardwalk. I managed to sweet-talk the managers into downloading the footage from all eight cameras.” She dropped eight USBs onto the office desk. “I watched as they downloaded, but I didn’t see much on them. Maybe another closer look may find something.”

“Great work,” exclaimed Barney. “Let’s do it.”

They were each halfway through a third download when Mitch phoned back. “I have found sixteen cars common to both dates that were not Geraldton Residents on the move during the five-hour window you asked for. There was only one in the first hour both times after each shooting. That one was the company car of the Fremantle trucking business, a white Toyota Corolla with plate number 1AUT 598.”

“Mitch, you little beauty,” Barney leapt up and did a jig and immediately regretted it. He sat down holding the phone in one hand and his stretched chest muscles in the other. “Thanks heaps for that find. Can you please send me the details of the sixteen common plate owners? We need to find another spotter too, and he may appear on that list.”

After finishing the call, he asked Carleen to work alone on the remainder of the foreshore videos while he rang the Fremantle CIB. “Is Walter Ketterer available?” he asked and was rewarded with a familiar voice on the other end.

“Barney Merrick, long time no hear,” Walter had helped them some three years earlier. “What can we do for you?”

“We need to get the identity and details of the driver of a company car from the Fremantle Trucking Company who was in Geraldton last week.” He gave him the make of car, plate number and the dates. “Zep and I were possibly shot by him, but both of us are okay.”

“I’ll see to it right away,” Walter hung up.

Walter rang back to the office two hours later in the evening and was transferred to Barney’s mobile because he had left the station for the night, feeling quite exhausted. He and Carleen had decided on another safety night at the nearby hotel.

“The trucking company office secretary passed me on to the manager’s home phone. He gave me the mobile number of the marketing manager who had the car signed out. He was not the one using the car in Geraldton, but he said that the car was being used by a visiting marketing agent from the company’s office in Melbourne and she was likely the one using it in Geraldton.”

“She?” queried Barney.

“Yes, Miss Ping Yang from Melbourne,” replied Walter. “She still has the car signed out so is probably still in Geraldton.”

Barney swallowed hard, realising that they may still be in danger from a sniper somewhere in the town if this girl was the shooter. He then thought of the list of occupants at the Jerrel Hotel. There had been two single females in the rooms, so was one of them Miss Yang? He had to find out. He phoned the hotel.

“No, we did not have any female guests named Yang,” the receptionist politely confirmed.

Barney paused and then asked, “How about the number plates of the guest’s registered cars? Have you had 1AUT 598 as one of the guest’s cars?”

Checking back into the hotel register, the receptionist replied. “Yes, the young lady stayed for five days. Her name was Mimi Chan, and she occupied room 211. She checked out on Tuesday.”

Barney thoughtfully considered the situation. “If she was the shooter on Thursday, where was she staying then? And where is she now?” So he phoned the police station and instructed them to check all accommodation that was still open that night, and any others next morning for that number plate. It was no use using the girl’s name as she apparently changed it at will.

“If the car is discovered, arrest the woman on suspicion of attempted murder, and notify me immediately.”

Chapter 17

Sighting Snipers

Sunday 7^th April

With no calls during the night, Barney was in the office first thing on Sunday morning. The police station manpower overnight had contacted a few lodgings and some patrol cars had dropped into check the hotel accommodations during their quiet times on the Saturday night shift. About a half of the Geraldton places were yet to be searched.

Zep turned up, with ashen face and his right arm in a sling. He was keen to work but restricted in his movement, so Barney filled him in on developments and gave him a list of apartments to telephone. “Until you get tired,” he added.

One of the prime suspected buildings in the forefront of the shooter’s direction was the Geraldton Marina Apartments. It had not been available to phone or doorknock, so Barney decided to visit. He used a patrol car with two armed police with all three of them in vests.

The receptionist had just begun work and was going through the office phone messages when Barney displayed his detective badge. “Have you had a lady with car licence plate 1AUT 598 staying in this hotel?”

She checked the register and confirmed that Miss Hui Wang had been here for 6 nights. “No wait, five nights. She checked out around 9:00 p.m. last night.”

“Damn,” cursed Barney out aloud. “That’s a very strange time to check out from a hotel.” Then thinking to himself. “She must have been warned after we began asking questions in Fremantle and likely fled to Perth.”

He rang Walter Ketterer’s mobile early on that Sunday morning and apologised for the out of hours call. “Walter, this is urgent,” he blurted out. “Our suspect left Geraldton late last night, probably heading for Perth. Can you get patrol cars to the Fremantle Trucking Company to apprehend her if she is there? Also, she may go straight to the airport and book a flight home to Melbourne. I have no idea what name she would use but since she can’t pay cash for a flight it is possibly under her marketing agents name of Ping Yang.”

Hoping to get Mitch Page again, he rang the Perth Licensing Bureau. Unluckily his shift was finished, so Barney spent 15 minutes explaining to the duty technician what he needed. He was hoping to get a Statewide search for the latest sighting of the number plate 1AUT 598. The new technician did a plate search through the latest incoming computer feed and happily told Barney.

“That car went to the airport at 9:00 a.m. An hour earlier it was in Fremantle near the address of a trucking company.”

“So she is heading home and probably dropped off the car at the airport,” thought Barney. “I wonder why she went to Fremantle first.”

Barney desperately phoned Walter Ketterer. “Walter, she will be on a Melbourne flight. Can you get her before she leaves?”

A half hour later Walter phoned back. “The airport police delayed the flight, boarded and took her into custody. Ping Yang was not happy, but we will have her in Fremantle lock-up here for you.”

“I’m on my way,” cried Barney.

#

Late on Sunday morning, Johnno Johnston arrived back at the All Angels Bikie Gang headquarters.

“What the frig are you doing here?” screamed Psycho. “You are supposed to be laying low out of the State.”

“I’ve got the address in Geraldton of the bastard who stole my gun, jacket, and money.” Johnno calmy spoke to the bikie leader. “So, I’m going there to get him back.”

“You will be seen and caught,” ranted his boss. “I have replaced your Geraldton duties with Brian Pearson and sent him on an orientation tour of your old route before he starts carrying the product.”

Johnno replied sombrely, “I’ve grown a five-day old beard, clean shaved my head and will wear plain glasses as a disguise. In a suit and tie I won’t look like the bikie that they would easily recognise,”

“Clean out all our produce from your car.” Psycho sighed as he had given in. “Better still, get a hire car so sniffer dogs won’t smell the drugs in that old bomb of yours. As usual, make sure that the hire car is a station wagon so that you are not sleeping in any towns. And leave your gun so you aren’t carrying an illegal weapon. With your record, if you get stopped for anything, it will surely get you more jail time.”

“But …” began Johnno.

“But nothing,” finished Psycho.

#

En-route to Perth, Barney was in contact with Zep who had stayed in the office for safety. He figured a jail cell for the night was better than being a target by the sniper.

“The two apartments used by the shooter Ping Yang need to be forensically screened,” Barney called from his satellite mobile in the car. “There may have been cleaners in already and probably new guests, but it may be worth it to look around.”

Barney arrived in Fremantle police station in the middle of the afternoon. He and Walter faced the girl in the interview room. A local defence lawyer had been arranged to represent her interests.

“Ping Yang, you have been arrested on the grounds of suspicion of attempted murder,” formally stated Barney. “While you stayed at the Jerrel Hotel under an alias, a shot was fired at me, a policeman, from that building. When you moved into the Marina Apartments using a different alias, several shots were fired at us again from that apartment building. When we started looking for you, you tried to flee the State. Have you anything to say in your defence?”

“I was not in either building when the shooting occurred,” Ping Yang calmly asserted. “I can prove I wasn’t in the Jerrel at the time. Check my phone camera. I was on the foreshore filming the race when you were shot. I have you on film as you went down. That should be enough proof.”

Walter manipulated the camera’s photo archives and announced, “It’s true. She has that footage alright. And a selfie just after, with you down on the ground.”

Barney’s phone rang and Zep gave the details that forensics had discovered in both of her apartments. He then turned towards her. “You may not have been involved in the Jerrel shot, but the second lot of shootings were fired from your window in the Marina Apartment. The window-sill has recent gunshot residue. That should be enough to send you away for life in prison.”

The body energy physically drained from the young woman. “I was not the shooter,” she whimpered. “But I had to help him.”

“If you didn’t do the shooting, who did?” asked Walter.

“Tell us all about it and you may get a reduced sentence for turning States Evidence,” added Barney.

“I was hired in Melbourne to be the support spotter for a marksman. He would arrive and leave Geraldton by plane. My job was to pick up his rifle in Fremantle and drive it into Geraldton and later carry it away. After the sniper decided on the location, I booked a hotel overlooking the target range. But we found the Jerrel rooms had sealed windows, so I had to get the access to the rooftop area. I stole a cleaner’s master key for a few hours. She never noticed.

Then I had to be the spotter along the foreshore so that he knew when to look for you. He was supposed to be an excellent shot, but he just mistimed your running speed.”

“What was his name?” asked Walter.

“I never knew his real name. He told me just to call him Max, like as in Mad Max in the movies.”

“What about the second shootings?” Barney wanted to keep her talking on the subject.

“I staked out the front of the police station looking for you two. He was in my apartment at the window looking at the roundabout on the street. When I saw you both get into the car I phoned him to get ready. He did.”

“Where did he go afterwards?” queried Walter.

“Each time he stayed in my accommodation until I returned, so that we could hide the gun in my luggage. Then, after things had settled down, he left in his car to go and stay somewhere. A day later he told me to ditch the gun, when there was one of you in hospital and the other was staying in protection. He had given up, so he flew home, to wherever that was.”

“Where did you leave the rifle?” demanded Barney.

“I took it back to the Fremantle Trucking Company for them to ship it back to Melbourne. I suppose that’s where Max comes from. I was hired there too, and I was dropped off at Perth airport by a company driver, heading for home when you grabbed me off the plane.”

“Why did you get involved?” asked Walter.

“I needed the money. I was born in China, the second child in a place where only one child was allowed. At the age of six years old, I was sent to an uncle and aunt on a farm and worked 14 hours a day, but secretly found time to study. I learned English and got a study visa to Melbourne through my uncle’s help. There I finished a science degree while working in a Chinese restaurant. But then I was too old to be paid youth wages, so could not find a job. Without a steady job I was thrown out of my apartment onto the streets. After four months sleeping rough, I decided to take any job to survive. That’s when I took this job – for the money.”

“If we catch this Max and he confirms your story, I will speak out for you in court,” explained Barney. “However, you were knowingly involved in attempted murder, even though you didn’t pull the trigger, so you can expect to serve time in jail. Now we need to get Mad Max.”

#

“Zep,” began Barney over the phone. “The shooter was a fly-in to Geraldton, probably with an airport hire car. He was likely using one of the common sixteen cars on the move within five hours after both shootings. Can you check through that list that Mitch Page provided for us? He won’t have used his real name for car hire or aeroplane tickets, but we can at least track him in and out from Melbourne using the flight times. We can but hope he used just one alias coming from Melbourne and then returning. With luck we may get him on Geraldton, Perth, and Melbourne Airport security CCTV photos. I’m heading home this evening.”

“Walter,” he turned to the other detective in the Fremantle detective’s office. “Can I leave you with the task this afternoon of raiding the trucking company to see if you can pick up the sniper’s rifle before they ship it back to Melbourne. Hopefully because it’s Sunday they don’t despatch trucks until tomorrow. That company will need to be closely watched, as they are either being paid for secret shipping or are somehow more deeply involved. By the way, you did bloody-well catching Ping Yang.”

With a little praise and a good working relationship with the Geraldton detectives, Walter was happy to chase down Mad Max’s sniper rifle, even if he had to stop and search all of Fremantle Trucking Company’s vehicles at the border. Barney left for home just on sundown on Sunday night.

Chapter 18

The Merchant Dealer

Monday 8^th April

“Mad Max used a fake driver’s license to fly here and hire the car. It was a good forgery so quite expensive. He comically used the name of Madison Maxwell. His photo on it was a little touchy but we got the airport security photos clear and bright.”

Zep sat back in the office and began filling-in Barney with all the latest developments. His arm in a full arm brace didn’t seem to bother him too much anymore. Barney had turned up in the office mid-morning after a relaxing sleep-in with Carleen, after his nine hundred kilometres of solo driving within the last 36 hours.

“By the time we tracked his Melbourne flight he had landed and cleared security. We missed him by two hours. His photo does not show up in the National Crime Check computer files. We are presently trying to get fingerprints and DNA from the Toyota Aurion sedan that he hired at Geraldton Airport with number plates 1CYX 632. We are also tracking this car to try to find where he was staying so we could check there too. So far, we haven’t been successful, but it’s just a matter of time. He has to be in a database somewhere, either in Australia or overseas. We will get him.”

“Where are we at with the marijuana plantation searches,” asked Barney.

“We seem to have stalled there,” replied Zep. “What with you running around the countryside and me relaxing in hospital, not much more has been done. That pile of notes on the desk are the replies from the solar installation companies and that list there is the heavy use power for private houses. Now that I’m back chasing my sniper, you can take over on the pigpen murderer.”

#

Johnno arrived in Geraldton around this time and headed straight for the premises of the wooden door merchant. He had discovered that this was the Merchant who had fenced the gun from his car break in.

“You stole my gun and All Angels Bikie jacket,” Johnno loudly declared, as he stomped up to the man, clearly identifying himself as an All Angels Bikie and not to be messed around. “And I want them back. Now!”

“Wha… I didn’t,” exclaimed the dealer.

“Then how did the Sydney gunsmith buy them from you?” furiously demanded Johnno.

Then the penny dropped. The dealer realised where the bikie was coming from. He began to feel very uncomfortable. He looked around for help but then remembered that his assistant Quang Vo was out fitting a door in the nearby suburbs and was not expected back for several hours.

“I bought it from a kid,” he stammered. “A girl who wanted to buy some weed from me.”

“Who was she? What was her name? Weed? You sell weed?” Johnno’s questions flew thick and fast.

“I don’t know her. She was a first-time customer. Kids often come in for weed. Not any more now. The cops have destroyed all of the local crops.” Once he started talking, his nervous energy kept him going.

Johnno held up his hand to stop him talking while he thought. “Unknown first-time kid, no weed left to sell if she comes again.”

“So, you are one of the local Cannabis dealers who supply the kids, and without any produce to sell them,” Johnno began conversationally. “What if I could supply you with weed from Perth for a fair price? That way you would stay in business and the girl may come in again.”

“That might work,” the dealer agreed.

“And what about if I could get you some powdered crystal meth or ice right now so that you have something to sell the kids in the meantime,” offered Johnno.

“I don’t know about that,” deliberated the dealer. “It’s a Class A drug.”

“I am prepared to give you 25 grams for free so that you can try out the market. That’s valued about $2,000 on the open market, and you would sell it normally at $20 for a quarter of a gram. I would suggest you keep it to that limited size as a full gram may kill a kid who isn’t used to the drug. And it’s enough to give them a real high. Better still, cut it to half strength using powdered sugar or powdered milk. Whatever profit you make on it is all yours. After that we will come to an agreement over the price you pay for any further supplies.”

Johnno’s offer was very tempting during these slow business times. The dealer finally agreed.

“So what do I call you, and what is your mobile phone number?” asked Johnno

“The kids call me Dai Nguyen, and here is my number.”

“By the way, I won’t be phoning you unless I am using a single use burner phone, or I find a public phone that still works, so don’t ring back as the phone will no longer answer. We will normally do business when I drop in to see you. We must keep our distance in the digital world.”

When he left, Johnno visited the local tattoo parlour owned by the bikies, to collect the Crystal Meths from their stock, which he immediately delivered to Dai. He left town knowing Psycho would be pleased with the new outlet he had brokered. His missing jacket and stolen money would have to wait until the girl showed up again.

#

“We’ve identified the sniper,” Geraldton forensics announced through to the office on speaker phone to Zep and Barney. “He is a former South African army sniper, now an international mercenary. He went by the name of Corporal Franz Smidt in the army but has many aliases in his working life. His fingerprints were lifted from the airport hire car and gave an immediate match on Interpol’s Automatic Fingerprint Identification System or AFIS, with an attached photo to match the prints. It matched the airport photos when he landed in Perth and then Melbourne. There is now an APB out for his immediate arrest in Melbourne.”

“Well done guys.” Zep fist pumped the air and then gently high-fived Barney with his left hand. “We should be able to safely move around town now. And I can bring Shirley and the kids home, to go back to school again. It’s still in the last week of term, so they can catch up with what they missed during the holidays.”

“School work in holidays,” scoffed Barney. “Yeah, right.”

Chapter 19

Blue Star Marine

Tuesday afternoon, 9^th April

On a quiet Tuesday lunchtime, Barney and Zep were sitting in the unmarked patrol car on the foreshore of Geraldton Beach nursing their wounds. For a change there was nothing pressing. They were awaiting the results of the searches in huts, houses and sheds for any Marijuana crop. They just watched the people and the seagulls frolicking along the shore as the two detectives wiled away their lunch break being content to be out of the office.

They sat there with take-away cups of coffee in the cup-holders in the centre console of the car and a muffin in a paper bag nestled into each of their laps, half eaten, and crumbs were everywhere. Zep dug his fingers in to break off another bite-sized piece as Barney declared through a mouthful of his previous bite.

“There seems to be a bit of a kerfuffle going on down by the café,” he muffled, pointing towards the centre of the esplanade.

Just then both of their phones rang. Zep’s caller was Superintendent Lindsay Strickland. “All hell has broken out at the beach. There is a refugee fishing boat anchored less than a hundred metres away from the seaside café with scores of men, women and children clustered on the deck. Get there pronto to secure the beach situation.”

Barney got the same message from Senior Sergeant Bill Semple in the ops room. Teams of police were also on their way.

Since Zep still wore his arm in a sling, Barney got to drive the unmarked patrol car. They were all there in two minutes.

#

For a short while they stared at the dilapidated boat just sitting there, gently rocking in the light breeze. The men, women and children, all in scruffy clothing, crowded on the deck and stared back. They looked bedraggled but were generally in fine spirits, as their ocean journey had apparently reached some sort of conclusion. The flag on the top displayed the message, ‘We want to go to New Zealand.’

Barney and Zep wandered among the onlookers on the beach, talking with police and members of the public, trying to establish when the boat arrived. They were directed to the waitress in the café.

She informed them, “We didn’t really see it come in. We just sort of looked up and it was there. It had a little flag sticking up on top and lots of people on it. It was around 12:30 during the lunch-time rush.”

Within a few minutes a pilot launch and two police boats arrived from the main wharf area with their blue lights flashing. From the leading patrol boat, two uniformed customs officers boarded the boat ‘MV Bremen - Blue Star Marine’ to direct them to the harbour moorings, but the boat stayed anchored just offshore. A short time later a tug arrived from the harbour. For some reason the fishing boat was unable to use its own engine. The tow line was established, and the anchor was raised.

Zep called to Barney, and they took off towards the customs offices in the harbour precinct, followed by several police cars. They arrived about the same time as the fishing boat was being berthed on a jetty near the customs dock. By that time the receiving party consisted of a dozen police and almost as many customs and border control personnel. The news media lined the nearby fences.

The senior customs inspector took charge. “We are going to off-load these people in groups of three or four for preliminary interviews and then they are to be securely housed in the customs building until we can figure out where to send them. I will need three police officers to escort each group from the boat to the customs building. All police and staff must wear masks in case there is malaria, dysentery, yellow fever, Ebola or any other communicable tropical disease on board. We just don’t know. Be aware that they may try to escape after being fugitives so long aboard the boat. They may be desperate, not wanting to be confined.”

Barney and Zep assisted the police by stationing themselves beside the boat, watching for any attempts at illegal landings. Later as the boat emptied, they moved to join the security in the customs building, leaving a couple of wary constables on boat watch duty.

These arrivals were refugees from a civil war. The Tamils claimed they were the rightful people of the Northwest of Sri Lanka but were a minority to the Sinhalese in the Sri Lankan Government. They began a secessionist revolution. It was a bloody rebellion with thousands imprisoned or displaced from Sinhalese majority areas, and up to a hundred thousand killed in the 25-year conflict from 1983 to 2007.

After being medically checked and preliminary interviewed by the officials, the refugees were sat inside the customs rooms awaiting their fate. Barney and Zep wandered among them, but conversation was difficult as there were few with spoken English. Barney managed a few words with one young youth who spoke a little English. He was able to tell them that the trip had been 44 days at sea, and he was sick of eating just fish. They were interrupted when one of the uniformed police who were guarding the door, hurried over to speak to Zep.

“Sir. There are a group of Geraldton residents at the door wanting to speak to the officer in charge.”

Zep hurried outside to speak to them. There were six people of Vietnamese descent standing there with plastic bags full of fruit and vegetables. The spokesman stepped forward; a man much younger than the rest.

“Sir. All of us arrived by refugee boat after weeks at sea. I was wrecked and rescued at Rowley Shoals. We know what it was like, but we are now Australian citizens growing food for the town. These new boat people have not seen fresh fruit or vegetables for weeks. We would like to donate these bags of food to the new arrivals.”

Zep nodded and called over the other police officers at the door to collect the plastic bags from the donors. Heavily weighed down, the officers took the bags inside to distribute the fresh food.

Zep turned to thank the group, but Dai Nguyen and his group just smiled and walked away.

The fishing boat was checked and found that several cray-pot ropes had fouled the propellor making it impossible to continue their journey. They would never have made it to New Zealand.

After many hours of frantic calls between the Customs and Border Control of Geraldton with the Immigration Department heads in Perth, busses were organised late that night. The refugees had completed preliminary health and security checks so were ready to be housed elsewhere. The male asylum seekers were sent off to a detention facility in Northam, 460 kilometres south-west of Geraldton, while the women, children and family groups were relocated to another facility away from Geraldton.

Barney and Zep were exhausted by the time the busses left around midnight, but they heard that the Immigration Department planned to send them all to the Christmas Island Processing Centre for refugees.

(Authors Note – 38 of the 66 asylum seekers were sent back to Sri Lanka)

Chapter 20

Two Growers on the Run

Wednesday, 10^th April

Both were late into the office on Wednesday. Zep had required new dressings on his bullet wound and Barney decided he needed a work-out run to loosen-up muscles unused after a week of confinement. The seared skin across his chest and arm had closed over and now just needed softening cream to complete the healing. The search for the Marijuana plantation had resumed after being suspended yesterday when all available police officers were needed for the Blue Star Marine emergency.

Zep answered the phone call from the first of the search teams. “The house with the highest power use was a residential with a large swimming pool and a massive electrical pottery oven for the owner’s hobby business. There was no sign of any plantation or dogs. The pool and oven explained the power drain.”

The second search team called Barney, and he put them on the speaker for the office phone. “This house had a large swimming pool, and four children, each with full gaming TV’s. The parents had a full household of electrical gimmicks, mostly automated through computer wifi. There were three of four cats but no dogs and definitely no Marijuana.”

“Zep,” began the leading officer of the third searching team. “You had better come and see this house in Deepdale.”

The house had a high fence surrounding the property. The front gate was wide open leading directly into the open garage. A door at the rear of the garage was unlocked and opened straight into the kitchen. It was a fully operational living space with a fridge full of food. The rest of the house was empty, totally devoid of any furniture, apart from one bedroom with two single beds. Both had been slept in and then left unmade. The yard showed uneven ground where large dogs had scratched holes for exercise. There were scatterings of dog shit, where the owners hadn’t bothered to clean up the large solid lumps.

“Not the sort of place to use heaps of power,” commented Barney.

“I reckon we have found our murder scene,” replied Zep.

“It looks like they cleaned the place out as soon as the dogs attacked young Tran,” Barney concluded as he was looking around. “I recon forensics will find Tran’s blood in here as well as scraps of marijuana on the floors.”

“I wonder where they took all of the equipment and the cannabis,” considered Zep. “There would be lights and power cords, watering hoses, pots, drainage troughs, fertiliser, and partly grown cannabis plants. Would they dare to offload what they couldn’t re-use at the local tip, or did they dump it in the bush somewhere?”

“Why bother going bush if the city tip is just a kilometre away, over there on Landfill Lane?” argued Barney.

“They might hesitate at using the tip because the tip is manned and not open until daylight hours,” responded Zep. “Perhaps they were able to offload gear without being observed by the tip crews during the real busy times. Or maybe they snuck in after dark, somehow.”

“Maybe is has CCTV security at night,” Barney was hopeful.

“CCTV for a tip?” laughed Zep. Barney smiled too.

They eventually decided that the Geraldton Waste Disposal Site was too large and too busy to order a search for one truckload of gear that may or may not be buried under the city’s accumulated garbage from perhaps six days ago.

#

“What can you tell us about the occupants of the house next door?” Zep addressed the next-door neighbours as he and Barney sat in their front living room.

“It’s a rented house, and the two blokes who live there must have part time jobs, because they are in and out of the place at all hours,” the man stated.

“They keep to themselves, and the house is fully curtained up all the time,” the wife added. “I haven’t seen them about for most of this week.”

“We keep our distance and don’t visit because they have two real nasty dogs that roam about the yard,” he explained. “It’s a good thing that fence is high enough to contain them.”

“Do you know their names and the name of the house owner,” requested Barney.

“No. We have never met them,” the man shook his head as he replied. “We were friends with the old owner who was Norm Eisler, but when he died his rellies put the place up for rent. It had a “Ray White Real Estate” sign when it was first rented so the agent should have the rental contract.”

“Thanks. You have been very helpful,” finished Zep.

The real estate company was able to provide the full details of the one person who signed the lease, including photocopies of the driving license of Bob Pavior. The detectives went to work to profile the weed grower. His current vehicle was a Ford Transit long wheelbase van, the ideal enclosed, large transport for moving bags of cannabis, but low enough to back it into the garage to enable out-of-sight loading. His license plate number was phoned through to Perth Licensing Bureau to see if they could spot him.

“Our cameras logged the vehicle heading into North Perth two days ago,” was the reply a few hours later. “It hasn’t been sighted moving around since that time.”

Zep rang through an APB to the Perth Central for them to keep an eye out for the missing Transit Van. “If you sight it, do not intercept, but please follow it to locate the residence.”

#

A short time later, there was a call from Perth CIB. “Zep. Check out the latest 5:00 p.m. news on Channel Seven in Perth. It’s a live feed,”.

There was a brawl in Roe Street in Northbridge. A group of four citizens had stopped their car in front of a Ford Transit Van in the middle of the street and two of them were assaulting the two occupants of the van. The other two had opened the van and were scattering the van’s contents of plastic bags onto the sidewalk. The news media were having a field day. They were on the spot and filmed everything. Then the camera moved slowly past the van license plate. It was the missing Transit Van.

Four police patrol cars swarmed in from both directions and began detaining all the involved parties. The camera zoomed down onto one of the scattered plastic bags that had been split. There, for all to see, were green leaves of Marijuana plants flowing onto the pavement. This was going to be big news, and Channel Seven was there, lapping it all up for the viewers.

The talking heads began interviewing bystanders.

“What did you see?”

“Everything was going along normal. Traffic was flowing in the usual way. Then this sedan car screeches to a sudden halt in front of that van. As it pulled up the two sedan passengers leapt out and began dragging the van people out. Two more from the sedan get out and start throwing those plastic bags from the back of the van. Then the cops arrived and arrest everyone. I never heard anything that was said by anyone, but they was all yelling something at each other.”

“You sir,” the reporter thrust the microphone at another. “Did you see or hear anything different?”

“I overheard the man from the sedan tell the cops that ‘We are just vigilantes, cleaning up the street from these drug pushers. Look at it there spread out onto the street officer. That’s illegal Marijuana that those blokes were selling. So, we tried to stop them for you.”

The camera kept rolling. A police sergeant fronted the reporter.

“Please stop filming. This may jeopardise any prosecutions that we may try to make. And a question for you. How come you were here before all the action began?”

The live feed to the 5:00 p.m. news ceased abruptly.

#

Zep immediately rang the Perth CIB. “The two people in the Ford Transit Van that you have detained are wanted for murder and drug running. Please make sure they are properly arrested and charged. Can you please have them transported to Geraldton under close custody?”

“Oh. Come now Zep. We have just made a spectacular arrest in front of the live media, and you want to take away our glory already,” laughed the Perth detective. “How about you come and get them. Or better still, interview them here in the Perth Central. The reporters are hanging around outside hoping for more.”

“We were both shot last week,” Zep reminded him. “But those two are Geraldton boys so it may be best if we interview them there in headquarters, way out of their comfort zone. Perth lockup is a daunting situation with the calibre of the nut cases that you house there. Make sure they are locked up overnight in a cell next to a few disturbed hard cases. We will be there tomorrow.”

Chapter 21

Cannabis Interviews

Thursday, 11^th April

Barney drove the full 430 kilometres while Zep converted the passenger seat into a horizontal position and slept for over half the journey. He was still feeling the effect of the wound in his arm but had opted for less and less pain killers. The gaping holes had sealed over but internally there was a lot of healing still to endure. Barney on the other hand was almost moving freely, needing just ointments to medicate the healing skin surface. A light chest bandage was wrapped around to protect his clothing from the greasy wounds.

On the journey, Zep used his satellite mobile phone to ring Detective Walter Ketterer at the Fremantle branch to enquire about the sniper’s rifle. A week had elapsed since his own shooting incident so he was keen to know.

“No luck,” was Walter’s blunt reply. “We searched the trucking company from top to bottom and stopped every one of their trucks in transit. It had disappeared and nobody was prepared to say squat. There must be some real heavies behind that story. Sorry about that Zep.” He was thanked for his perseverance.

They arrived at Perth Central Police Station around mid-day, ready to begin the interviews. However, before beginning on the two Transit Van occupants, they sought details on the four vigilantes who had attacked them. The Perth detectives who had conducted the interviews gave them the story.

“The four of them all claim that they were working out in the local gymnasium in Perth when there was a kerfuffle at the front office. The manager at the main counter was insisting that those two gents ‘get out’ of his premises and take their plastic bags of drugs with them. He was clean and was going to stay that way. When the Transit Van boys departed, the manager aired his views that they should not be allowed to drive around and flog Cannabis just like that. So those four vigilantes just stepped in and did something about it.”

“But there are rumours,” added a second detective. “It is well known that the gymnasium operates as a strong drug outlet and is supplied by the local bikies. It appears that the gym manager would not dare to buy any products from an outsider. He would fear severe consequences of doing so.”

“Which begs the question. Did he send these vigilantes from his gym patrons or staff or are they guards permanently placed in there as protection of their operation by the bikies?” queried Zep.

“Only time will tell,” finished one of the Perth detectives. “We will charge them with ‘affray’, but it is unlikely to lead to a prison sentence, given the circumstances of those drug pushers. They may just get a fine or a Community Work Order. However, we will have them on record and can keep an eye on them as possible minions of a local bikie gang.”

“By the way,” added Zep. “Can you please get your forensics lads to do a full workout on the inside of that Transit Van. It was likely used to ferry a corpse across Geraldton to be dumped.”

“Now let’s see to those two weed growers,” insisted Barney.

#

“You are charged with the murder of Tran Sip in Geraldton on Tuesday 26^th March of this year,” began Zep addressing Bob Pavior, the first of the two men. “His body was found after you dumped it in a local piggery. How do you plead?”

“Mmm-M-Murder,” he stammered. “My brother and I didn’t murder anyone.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced at his lawyer sitting beside him.

“His body is linked to Marijuana,” growled Barney. “Probably the stuff grown in your house in Geraldton, and likely the same stuff in the back of your van. Cell analysis will prove whether it is the same crop as found all over the body. Forensics are going through your car right now and it won’t be long before bloodstains will be found in the back of the van that are a match to the DNA of Tran Sip.”

“Bloodstains?” he queried.

“Yes. Blood,” bluntly stated Barney. “You had to get the body from your house to the piggery and you had to use your van. There will be blood as his body was still bleeding long after you murdered him.”

“But we didn’t kill him. The dogs did it,” he bawled.

“And you made them do it,” accused Zep.

“No. No. We were not there. He broke into our house when we were out. He woke up the dogs and they attacked him. It was an accident you see.”

“I don’t see how you can both avoid the murder charge,” Zep hounded him.

“The gate was shut, and the notice displayed said ‘Beware of Vicious Dogs’. The garage door may have been left open but the inside entry to the house had to be closed so that the dogs were kept confined. If he went inside, it was in contradiction of the warning notice and the risk was his, not ours. He was dead when we came home from the pub.”

“If the dogs killed Tran, why didn’t you report that to the authorities,” asked Barney.

“He was splayed out in the middle of our cannabis crop. A large illegal crop, so we would be sent to prison if we brought in the police. We had developed a great soil-grown cannabis crop in pots on a bed of drainage rails. It was drip fed and the nutrients were recycled. When he woke up the dogs, they pushed him over into a dozen pots, wrecking the crop as they mauled him. We were lucky that he was bleeding all over the garden beds and drainage rails and not over much of the floor. We decided to dump the body then clean up the house.”

“Why the piggery,” demanded Zep.

“He was a kid who would probably be missed, so we had to make it look like he was killed by those pigs and not our dogs. We thought we had got away with it when nothing happened for a few days. We dumped a lot of the ruined Marijuana in garbage bags at the local tip, tipped the growing soil in the bush and stored our growing equipment in a rental storage locker in town. Then we heard that the police were searching and destroying all Cannabis crops in Geraldton, so we came to Perth to sell the remainder of our product. It was our livelihood.”

“And your dogs,” asked Barney. “What did you do with them?”

“They are friendly and docile with us. We bathed them in the bathroom in the house to clean them up and then lodged them in the long-term boarding kennels in Geraldton. Bloody expensive too.”

“Thank you for being so forthright,” explained Zep. “We have a problem here. The fact that your dogs killed the boy is a primary concern, but the lad was trespassing, so your legal liability is diminished significantly.

The court would probably not find you guilty even of manslaughter if you were not at home. The killer dogs will probably need to be destroyed through a court order. However, the offence of deliberate misconduct with a corpse must still be considered, which is a sentence of two years.

Now the big one. The commercial growing of cannabis is still illegal in this State, and you will be facing a sentence of up to twenty years in prison. The amount you had in your van is a very large commercial crop, and we can prove that you and your brother grew it in your house under ‘Grow Lights’.”

“We don’t know whether the court will make the two charges concurrent, or you will serve them both consecutively,” Barney added. “Feeding a body to pigs is disgusting. It makes me want to stop liking ham and eggs for breakfast.”

“Now in conclusion,” summarised Zep. “We will now begin to interview your brother, Neville. If his story corroborates yours, you will both be asked to write and sign statements of the full facts. This will be presented to the judge without the need for an extended trial.

By throwing yourself on the mercy of the court, perhaps you may both end up with a very reduced sentence. A few years jail and then out on parole. If you both complete statements admitting to the growing of Marijuana, we are prepared to speak for you in court to say how cooperative you were. Talk with your lawyer. He will be also speaking for you with the judge. The final decision will be up to the court. Good luck.”

After interviewing the brother and setting him the task of writing his statement to support his brother’s story, they left the recording of the interviews with the officers who had arrested the melee fighters. They decided, as usual, to stay the night and dine out before tackling the five-hour drive home on the next day. Two trips on one day were just too much for injured drivers. Barney rang Coach Cocker to explain that he was away in Perth on duty and his injury was not yet healed enough to participate in football training. “See you on Sunday.”

Chapter 22

Illegal Contracts

Friday, 12^th April

“Well, how’s business?” Johnno simply waltzed in just before closing time, when the wooden door merchant store of Dai Nguyen was empty. His assistant, Quang Vo, had already left for the weekend. “Did you sell all the ice we gave you?”

“Business was great,” Dai replied. “With so little weed in town, the kids went looking for an alternative to celebrate their end of term today. I let them have it around half price of $10 for a quarter of a gram, but it was only half strength after being cut. One kid came back half a dozen times and bought more each time. I let him have a couple of “freebies” because he was my best customer. They all want more.”

“Okay Dai,” drawled Johnno. “The next lot is going to cost you. I’ll let you have 50 grams for $2,000, and that’s half price. You should have earned more than that amount from our first free lot. Sell that at a markup to start earning for yourself. Any further lots of 50 grams will be $3,000, and you should earn a couple of thousand each time after you cut it. If the kids are starting to like the product, they will have to pay a bit more.

“That sound like a good deal,” Dai was pleased with the early turnover. “It earns far more than the Marijuana, which is still in very short supply in Geraldton. I now have to rely on you and your supplier. By the way, the girl has not come back again. She may be relying on other friends to do her shopping.”

“Hmm,” murmured Johnno. “I guess we will have to wait. I will deliver your next shipment of ice tomorrow.”

“Great,” exclaimed Dai.

“Now for a word of advice,” continued Johnno. “The kids will probably get a little excited and your name will become well known. It won’t be long before the police begin to sniff around here. You need to take the drugs and drug money off-site, so if you get a visit from the law, they won’t find anything. Try to arrange sales away from here, perhaps through third parties that you meet elsewhere. If you decide to use agents to do the selling, keep them at arm’s length. Don’t let them visit you here. Definitely don’t use any banks for your money. Keep it all in cash money. Make this your clean place of general business.

I say all this because I am also at risk. By you selling drugs that I have provided, I am in the picture. If you are caught you may think that by dobbing me in, then the police will go easier on you. I’m sorry to say that may be true. But in my gang, we look after each other. If you mention my name, you are dead, whether you end up in prison or in witness protection. We have tentacles everywhere. Get the picture, Dicey boy?”

“Uh, …. Sure,” in trepidation, Dai slowly nodded his head.

#

In Melbourne, a meeting took place. In the basement carpark of a set of apartments in the seedy end of town, two men emerged from a car and approached a group of four men attired in business suits.

“I have brought Mad Max here to you as ordered,” said the guard, as he nudged Max towards the four men.

“You were paid one hundred grand up-front to do a job on those Geraldton cops, and you failed,” began the leading executive to the captive. “Your CV stated that you were one of the best marksmen in the business, and you failed. There will have to be consequences.”

“But I tried twice and shot both of them,” argued Max.

“And you failed to kill either one of them,” growled the boss.

“You are partly to blame,” politely replied Max. “You were supposed to transport my sniper rifle to me in good condition. But it had been bounced around so much during the transit across Australia that the sights were loosened. I tried to realign them with some sighting shots in the bush, but I could not do so over a specified range. That was the main reason I was slightly off target. It was your chosen method of courier to blame for the failure.” He swallowed and looked down, respectfully.

“Either you will complete the job, or you must return the money and your reputation from then on will be mud. Otherwise, we will have to hunt you down and terminate you. Our own reputation cannot be seen to have failures too.”

“I will go again sir,” the sniper stood straight like a soldier and spoke clearly of his intentions. “You hired me, so my reputation is on the line.”

Another of the businessmen spoke up. “It will have to be arranged differently, as the police channels have an APB out for you with your name and photograph being plastered everywhere. You cannot fly commercially or hire any cars.”

“That is why I will now tell you how it will be done,” sternly stated the marksman. “Firstly, you will provide me here in Melbourne with a land-cruiser or any similar reliable four-wheel drive with wing-opening rear doors, preferably with no side rear windows. It should have legitimate Western Australian plates. It will be my mobile residence and will probably be my shooting position through partly opened rear doors.

Secondly, I will need a new rifle with telescopic sights and a silencer, and some time on a long-distance target range to sight-in the scope.

“Next, transporting the rifle. This was the earlier problem,” Mad Max went on with his demands. “This time the rifle needs to be secluded and soft mounted within the four-wheel drive. Under seats or under floorboards inside the rear are often checked by State border guards for drugs or fruit or native fauna, so might I suggest we secure it inside the specially hollowed out front or rear bumper. I don’t think it would fit inside a door, unless it was disassembled, which is another option, but a poor choice since the police are aware of that method of concealment.”

Fourthly, after I complete the mission, I will require a small plane awaiting me at Geraldton’s private airfield ready to fly me to Darwin and then onto Singapore. From there I can fly on to anywhere in the World.

Lastly, I will need new identity papers with passport, driver’s licence and credit card, and probably a different identity for the shooters licence to access the range, unless of course you have your own personal range.”

“Challenging,” murmured the leading executive. “The car will take some time because it must never be able to be traced back to us. The personal documents will be very expensive, but they should be possible. The gun and the shooting range will be made available within a few days, so you won’t need a gun licence nor a shooting permit.”

“What about photo ID?” countered another businessman. “Your picture is now everywhere on posters in police stations and public places. A least change your hair colour and style, wear glasses, and maybe have cheek implants when out in public.”

“So, how soon will all this be ready?” asked Max.

“We’ll let you know,” confirmed the Boss. “So, lie low, until we have it all organised.”

PART FIVE

Chapter 23

Party Party

Friday evening, 12^th April

Barney and Zep arrived back in the Geraldton detective’s office around midday on that Friday. As Barney drove through the town everything appeared serene. It was good to be home.

After an hour or so of sorting out and logging-in evidence from the Perth trip, Zep decided that they had done enough work for that week, considering that they both should have been on medical leave for some of the time.

“We can both knock off early today and catch up with the family at home,” he said. “Anything else can wait until later.”

Barney drove his own car from the station carpark to his Mahomets house, and finding it too quiet with Carleen at work, took off along the beach for a run of five or six kilometres. His inactivity of late was worrying him about his preparation for the football season that was due to start in just over a week. A quick swim in the chilly ocean water, home for a hot shower and he was feeling alive, just in time to welcome Carleen home from her day’s toils.

They renewed their love affair and then dozed for a few hours into dusk, when a phone call from Zep awoke the couple.

“I have just been contacted by Senior Sergeant Bill Semple in the ops room. There are 30 to 40 kids partying on the foreshore, with lots of alcohol and it maybe getting out of hand. He has sent four patrol cars and is hoping that we join them as back-up. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

“But, but,” began Barney, but he was butting-in to a disconnected line.

#

The uniformed police were well and truly outnumbered. But they had the law on their side, and the teenagers were generally used to being disciplined. The sun had just dipped below the ocean horizon. As they moved between the groups of three or four or five kids, the suggestion to move on home was slowly being acknowledged. Except for the big group in the centre of the picnic reserve. These were the macho males and females who were out for a good time, no matter what it cost.

“It’s the fuzz,” called out one intemperate male, after everyone in the group had already made that observation. “Good evening officers. How can we help you?”

The constable smiled and quietly spoke so that the whole group could plainly hear. “You can pack up like everybody else and quietly go home. This is not the place for rowdy public drinking and partying.”

“But families have evening meals here, and some are even drinking,” exclaimed another youth.

“That is for public functions where a licence has been obtained for the evening,” countered the constable. “So please collect your belongings and move on.”

“And what if we don’t?” squawked a young fellow from the rear of the group.

Zep walked up behind the crowd and in a night piercing voice announced, “It is an offence in Western Australia for persons of any age to drink in public, such as on the street, park or beach. The penalty is $200 immediate infringement or up to $2000 fine if a court order is required to be issued. Now who wants to stay and face the cost of being here?”

They all began to slowly move off.

Barney confronted the young fellow who had spoken up in opposition. He appeared confused and dizzy, wavering on his feet, with a strange look in his eyes.

“Listen young fellow. You need to know when to keep your mouth shut. Speaking out like that could be interpreted as aggression towards the police, verbal assault and / or crowd incitement. It may earn you a fine or some time in jail, a criminal record and hang over you for the rest of your life. So wise up.”

The boy was about to say something, but Barney raised his forefinger and said nothing. The lad went quiet and wandered off unsteadily to join his mates.

#

Barney and Zep sat quietly in the unmarked patrol car, peacefully watching the ocean and the nightscape for fully fifteen minutes. Then Zep’s police radio broke the silence.

“Detective Marcon. We have a report of kids drinking in the street in Rangeway, another noisy party that neighbours have complained about. The patrol cars have been despatched already to Levy Street. Please assist.”

Most of the party guests were older teenagers, looking like senior students at some of the local schools celebrating the end of term. A few were out on the street near their cars. Some were drinking alcohol. Some were not.

As the senior police officer, Zep led the way with his arm still in a sling. He wandered up to the group assembled near the front door and politely asked for any member of the household who was in charge of the party. A guest yelled through the open door to announce them, “Ellie. Police want to talk to you.” A petite young teenager came out.

“Ellie. Are your parents at home?” asked Zep.

“Nup,” was her brief reply.

“Who organised this party?” was Zep’s next question.

“A couple of my schoolmates knew that my folks were out of town so came round to keep me company. Then people heard about the gathering through phone texts and joined in. It just grew from there.”

“So they are mainly all strangers?” interrupted Barney.

“I know most of them from school or through sport, but there are a few others.”

“Without adult supervision, I am afraid we will have to shut this party down,” firmly stated Zep. “There have been complaints. So, unless you wish to face a charge of disturbing the peace, I will now require you to ask all your guests to leave.”

Barney interrupted again, “Would you like us to speak out for you?”

“Er. Um. I guess it has got out of hand. I suppose so.”

What is your name please Ellie?” continued Barney.

“Ellie McMasters.”

Barney cleared his throat and called out to gain everybody’s attention. He then forcefully stated that Ellie McMasters, representing the owners of the house, had requested that the party be terminated, so everybody must leave forthwith.

Zep added, “There are a few police officers who can assist anybody who needs help. As officers of the law, we must insist that those who are driving cars are not illegally intoxicated, so choose your drivers carefully. Good night everybody.”

The party slowly dissipated. A small group of half a dozen youths at the corner table on the porch were slow in moving, so Barney wandered over. They were acting strangely agitated and confused. Then Barney noticed a small smear of white powder on the table and the penny dropped. He called Zep over while the group dopily watched him, he pointed to the table.

“I’m afraid you gentlemen are going to have to come with us,” said Zep.

“Now see here,” began the biggest and strongest of the group as he fronted up to the older detective who had one arm in a sling. “You have no right to detain us.”

As he spoke, he became more agitated and aggressive.

“We ain’t done nothing wrong. Leave us be,” and he swung a roundhouse fist at Zep, who stepped one step back. Then he stepped quickly forward to push the lad in a circle, into the hands of Barney, who used the flailing fist to twist and lock his arm up behind his back. He was immobilised.

“That’s enough,” demanded Zep. The group froze, seeing their leader trapped in a vice like grip. Zep called over several of the uniformed officers, saying to the six youths, “You can all go quietly or under arrest in handcuffs. I am sure that you are all under the influence of an illicit substance.”

They went quietly into the back of three patrol cars to be taken into custody to sleep off the effects of their snorted ice crystals. The uniformed officers took swabs of the white powder to later use as evidence.

Thirty minutes later the house and neighbourhood were all quiet. Barney turned to Zep to comment. “So this is our quiet night off. I’m glad you organised this restful evening for us.”

Chapter 24

Party Party Party

Friday night, 12^th April

The police radio interrupted any reply that Zep was preparing to say. “We have another noisy party getting out of hand. This time it is a house in Henry Street in Beresford.”

Zep immediately switched from the incoming call over to the outgoing microphone and organised the response team, “Please get those other patrol cars unloaded and back on the road. Any other cars available please also attend. There is apparently substance abuse that may be more than just alcohol among these school kids that we have to contend with.”

They arrived at the same time as three other patrol cars. The scene that greeted them was not pretty. The front veranda was alive with youngsters, and a set of speakers there, blared out into the street. Other youths were standing on the front lawn and on the street verge with beer bottles in hand. Some were smoking, others were actively jigging, and some were boisterously singing along to the raucous music.

A few more young adults arrived after parking down the street. Words were shouted out from the front lawn of the house and the new arrivals replied with venom and gestures. A bottle was thrown to splinter on the front driveway. Two party guests on the front verge met the newcomers face to face and fists were being thrown. A couple on the front lawn began squabbling with others in support of the new arrivals. It was going to get dirty very quickly.

Zep grabbed his car radio and called the station, “Send all available officers to Henry Street in Beresford, ASAP. Pack riot gear and pepper spray,” and turning to Barney he quietly said, “Kill the music.”

Barney analysed the packs of scattered students and planned his run through the scrum as he had done on the football field for many years. He took off running, dodged past the verge and front lawn groups, and took the porch steps two at a time, brushing through several individuals. On the veranda he looked for the power to the speakers, but only saw cords draped through the front window.

Deciding against ripping them through and likely pulling apart and damaging the gear inside, he pushed roughly through the front door, saying, “Police emergency. Give way.” In the front room was a large amplifier being fed from a Bluetooth audio transmitter. He pulled the plug from the house power outlet to the amplifier. Everything went quiet. As he returned outside, he heard Zep speaking on his car’s amplified megaphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen. This party has just been declared an ‘out-of-control gathering’ under the Criminal Law Act of 2012. It must be shut down.”

There were shouts of “No,” and “That’s bullshit,” and similar denials.

Zep continued, “In ten minutes time, the police officers here will be going through the crowd and recording names and addresses and testing for alcohol and illicit drugs. By the law, anybody recorded as being here will be required to pay a share of any damages done and the compensation cost for the police to attend this out-of-control gathering.”

Just as he finished this, five more police patrol cars with sirens wailing, pulled up in the street outside. Zep smiled inwardly, and continued,

“And please note that in 30 minutes time, these patrol cars will be conducting Random Breath Testing and Drug Testing on cars throughout the streets of Geraldton for the next few hours. Go home everybody.”

There was an immediate stampede as the crowd began to leave. A family car drove into the driveway and a middle-aged couple got out. They wandered up and introduced themselves as the owners of the house. The father stood with Barney and Zep on the porch watching the exodus, while the mother went through the door to find her teenage son passed out on the lounge inside.

Almost everyone left. All but a group of three older youths in the corner of the front yard. They were a little older and more physically developed than school kids, so were likely to be gate crashers. “Yes gentlemen,” began Zep by way of introduction. “May we help you?”

“You have ruined our evening. You pigs think you rule the world, and can push everybody around at any time,” bellowed one of them. “Well, we don’t want to leave right now.”

“We are comfortable right here. Thank you,” added the second.

“So piss off and chase cars like you promised,” finished the third.

Zep and Barney stood side by side and addressed the trio. “You three have been given a lawful order to vacate this premises,” emphasised Zep.

“If you don’t obey the instruction, you will be breaking the law,” added Barney.

“Come and make me,” encouraged the first, shaping up ready to brawl.

Barney looked about for assistance from uniformed officers, but all had left after the crowd had gone. Zep, with his one arm in a sling, was not going to be of much help.

Barney was not a street brawler, but he had all the moves on the football field to attack the opposition with heavy tackles and also how to duck and weave to keep himself out of trouble. He nodded to the three and growled a final warning, “This is your last chance gents. Either you will leave forthwith, or I must take you all into custody.”

“We are not leaving just because you say so.” Was the brazen answer from the leading lad.

Barney forcefully walked towards the youth, saying, “You three are all under arrest,” but at arm’s length the lad swung a fist at Barney’s head, which he had anticipated and was able to block aside. The detective then back-pedalled three quick steps and waited. The lad saw his chance and rushed at Barney, who stepped aside, pivoted on his left foot and kicked the right kneecap of the lad. Off balanced without a right leg the boy began to topple. Barney spun around and open-handed slapped the back of his opponent’s head. He went down at Zep’s feet and the back of his neck was immediately stepped on with all of Zep’s weight to keep him there. Zep passed his handcuffs to the father and spoke, “Please do the honours and cuff him.”

With Barney’s back to him the second youth saw his chance. He rushed in and wrapped his arms around Barney and yelled to his third mate, “Grab him too.” Before that happened, Barney bent forward, lifting the assailant’s feet off the ground, turned a half turn and fell flat to the floor. He landed with his full weight onto the chest of the second lad and heard a whoosh as all the air was expelled from the body underneath him, and a thump as a head hit the floorboards.

Barney rolled over off him, in time to see the third youth coming forward, aiming a kick towards his chest and head. He kept rolling forward to put him off his timing, and rolled into his legs. That stopped him. Barney then swivelled on his hips on the floor, to bring his legs around and then kicked both legs out from under the youth. As he toppled, Barney was onto him, rolled him onto his stomach and grasped his arms up behind his back. He reached for his handcuffs.

The second lad lay wheezing and dizzy as he struggled to get up, when the two strong detectives voices either side of him demanded, “Stay down.” He did.

Later in the evening back at the station, everything was in chaos. The six prisoners delivered from the second party were shouting the house down from the cells. The three lads that Barney and Zep had transported in from the third party were only slightly less aggressive. The street patrols had arrested four drivers cruising the streets who failed saliva tests for illicit drugs. All were left in charge of the custody crew until morning where it was hoped that they would be a little less obnoxious. Zep left the staff with instructions to get them all alcohol and drug tested, to determine the reason behind their behaviour. The two detectives finally went home to rest.

Chapter 25

The Morning After

Saturday, 13^th April

“G’day Dai. How’s tricks?” Johnno announced himself in the usual way as he casually walked into the merchant store during the Saturday afternoon. Luckily Quang Vo only worked weekdays so would not see his master dealing in meths. Johnno was picking French fries from within a large bag emblazoned with the logo of a local fried chicken company.

“Things are bad,” moaned the owner of the merchant store. “After I cut it with powdered sugar, I sold almost every bit of the ice that you gave me last week, just a few of those mini-packets left.”

“Don’t panic,” confided Johnno. “This chook bag has the next 50 grams ready for you to cut into selling lots, so get it out of sight pronto.”

Dai disappeared into the rear office to hide the fried chicken bag and returned with an envelope into which he had dropped two bundles of cash. He had made sure that he had the required $2000, because he wanted the custom in the future and he was dealing with a well-known bikie gang, renowned for their reprisals. He had made $1000 profit within just one week.

“The lack of product is not the real problem,” sighed Dai. “It’s last night’s frivolous activities with the school kids. They bought up big on my mini-packets of meths and over used them. The police had a tough time with the end of term celebrations, and I believe it was the meths that caused a lot of the angst at some parties. I hear there were over a dozen arrests across the town. The finger may be pointed at me as the supplier.”

“So now you know why I told you yesterday to get all the drugs off site,” emphasised Johnno. “If you can’t be caught with the stuff, you just plead innocence, and they have a hard time proving otherwise.”

“What if I give all the drugs back to you for a few months,” suggested Dai. “Then there’s no problem.”

“Do you really want to give up a possible thousand dollars per month. At the end of those few months, you may not have any customers, because someone else has stepped into the gap and has control of the local young market. That’s your choice. I can always find a new retailer interested in the profits.”

“Er, Um, …” Dai was in two minds.

“Here are a few thoughts,” offered the bikie. “If you have a warehouse somewhere in town, perhaps you could find a safe storage somewhere deep within the furniture or building structure itself. Better still if you could find someone else to inexpensively warehouse some of your excess timber merchandise in an empty shed or garage and hide the drugs inside that. That way you are not directly linked to the hidden stuff.

Or how about the Bus Station luggage lockers. They are only a few blocks away. There is plenty of parking around it where you could casually drop in and collect product to deliver it in another place, like the local shopping centre car parks, or beach car parks.”

“Oh, I guess so,” mumbled Dai, thinking of options. “Oh, by the way. The girl came in this morning, saying she ran out of weed last night while celebrating with young friends. She wanted to buy more with cash.”

“You sold her some weed or ice?” asked Johnno, and thought, “It was probably my cash that she stole two weeks ago too.”

“No, she definitely didn’t want any Meths. She only wanted Cannabis. Now here is what I did. I told her that I was out of weed but expected some in soon. If she left a phone number, I would text her the code word ‘fashion’ when it arrived. She agreed so I have a direct link for you to find her. She will expect the weed will be delivered by an agent and not by me.”

“Brilliant,” exclaimed Johnno. “Give me the details.”

“Only if I have your assurances that she will not be harmed,” demanded the merchant. “She is only about sixteen years old.”

“Okay,” concluded Johnno.

#

Both Barney and Zep left it until the latest appropriate time to arrive for work the next day. They insisted that they were not late, just catching up on injury rehabilitation and lost sleep after last night’s long session. Barney also added that he had driven over nine hundred kilometres, going to, coming from and moving around the Perth suburbs within the last 48 hours so he was suffering from white line fever.

The six youngsters arrested first and transported by the patrol cars had already been processed by the uniformed officers. The white powder tested as Meths. The saliva and blood test of all six showed that they had all been using the drug. They would go before the magistrate in a couple of hours.

Zep insisted on a few more questions for the group. He started to interview individuals in the detective’s office, to get them out of the prison environment, and allow them to relax in his presence.

“You know that the possession or consumption of ice crystals is a maximum fine of $2000 or up to 2 years jail or both. You have the chance that I can speak for you if you give up the name of the dealer, which will reduce your sentence. Since most of you are under 18, it is possible the judge may just award you with community service and a Rehab program in the Youth Withdrawal and Respite Service. But you have to speak out now if you want me to speak up for you.”

They all gave the same answer. The person who supplied the Meths was a casual acquaintance they saw at that party. They had never seen him before that night, with average height and dark hair. His age was hard to pinpoint, somewhere between 15 and 20. Zep decided they were all telling the truth, so would recommend leniency to the judge, even for the couple in the group who happened to have birthdays early in their final year of school, which put them over the 18 years which would no longer have classified them by law as juveniles.

The four random motorists picked up during the night before, were processed by the night crew and released under surety to appear in court during the week. They would probably cop a hefty fine and the suspension of their driver’s licence for a long period.

Now to deal with the three who assaulted Barney. Their blood tests showed a high level of Methylamphetamines. They were not school aged youths, all over 20, so were probably ‘toolies’, at the party to impress school age girls. This category of party gate crashers, during the end of the school year ‘leavers’ parties, caused most of the troubles for the police. Barney wanted to lead when they interviewed them.

The first of the three limped into the interview room and sat next to the lawyer appointed by the court. After the usual formalities, Barney began,

“The charges will include the physical assault of a police officer while resisting arrest, and also possession or consumption of ice crystals. The assault charge is a mandatory six months in jail and the consumption of Meths is a maximum fine of $2000 or up to two years jail or both. As you were well all over 18, being aggressive at a schoolies party, I can see no way clear to reduce the assault charge. The only positive factor in your defence is that everyone else had departed as was required, so you were not visibly creating a bad example for children. You were under the influence of Crystal Meths, but that was your choice. However, if you can provide me with the name of your dealer, we could get the consumption charge downgraded to community service and a Rehab program. I will leave while you talk with your lawyer.”

None of the three were able to name their supplier as they got it from some kids at an earlier party, so they would face court that afternoon.

#

That afternoon, the six juveniles were given community service and the rehabilitation program as predicted by Zeb, even the two over 18 years. They were all first offenders, so the judge went easy on them, but they were severely chastised but would now have sealed police records as juveniles.

The three older men were each sentenced to six months jail for the assault, and a drug rehabilitation program whilst in prison. A further six months sentence for drug abuse was suspended pending good behaviour for five years.

Barney was not pleased that the arrests failed to locate the person dealing Meths to school kids. He was even unhappier when he was told that a small group of protesters had appeared at the front of City Hall with placards displaying ‘Legalise Marijuana.’, ‘We want our Marijuana back.’, ‘Weed is our basic right.’

Social media platforms summoned in reinforcements until there were over 20 youngsters. Some were quite vocal and there were shouts emphasising the words on the placards. Some became quite active. A few rocks were thrown at the windows of the City Hall buildings and then at police cars as they arrived. The media, alerted early, arrived in force and began filming the placards and the action. Finally enough police had assembled for them to request that the crowd disperse. A few of the front-line rock throwing activists were arrested, and the crowd dwindled away. Others would be arrested after the footage of the demonstration was commandeered for immediate scrutiny. Barney and Zep were baffled by reasons behind the events.

Saliva tests on the activists arrested revealed the reason. Meths was rife among these youngsters too. A blatant statement by one young lad enlightened the detectives even further.

“You have destroyed our access to small amounts of local weed. We used it for relaxation after study and on social occasions. Now there is none available. But we can now buy very cheap crystal meths instead, but it’s not the same.”

Only one of this group knew anything about the dealer. When they had all collected the meths from the Foreshore car park he said he knew that the dealer’s name was Callum. But that’s all he knew.

At last they had made a small step.

Callum

Chapter 26

My Belongings

Sunday, 14^th April

The codeword ‘fashion’ was texted to Donna, to which she replied “ok”

“Meet me at the Dome Coffee Shop on Foreshore Drive at 10:00,” was Johnno’s texted arrangements to Donna’s phone.

On a Sunday this would be a long haul for Donna. Coming in from Deepdale was an 8-kilometre hike each way on her bike, with both journeys up long hills. On school days the school bus took her from door to door. But it was now school holidays, and she needed to get organised with her two school friends. So she told the dealer that she was unavailable on that Sunday, and could she make it during the week, say 11:00 a.m. on the Monday.

Johnno wasn’t happy having to spend another night sleeping in the back of his van out in the scrub. April was starting to have cold nights. But he really wanted to get this thief who had his jacket and money and had stolen his gun. So, he agreed.

Donna was in the Dome café ten minutes early and ordered a coffee. But she wasn’t alone. Her two other partners, Trevor and Peter, had arrived a few minutes before her and were seated in a nearby part of the restaurant, quietly drinking Pepsi.

Johnno entered and seeing only one single young female seated in the room, went straight over to her. He spoke quietly and clearly like a salesman, “If you need fashion jewellery, I can help you.”

She looked up curiously at the cheery, shaved head, bearded guy with horn rimmed glasses, and she nodded.

“I have an assorted display of fashion in my car that is just outside,” he smiled and nodded his head in the direction of the front entrance.

They left. She took her take-away coffee with her.

Following a distinct distance behind, Trevor and Peter wandered out, engaged in a loud argument about the local football season that was soon to start. “Towns will be top again this year. They have lost no players, and the papers say they have also recruited well,” babbled Peter, saying the first thing that entered his mind.

“Bullshh,” replied Trevor. “Their list of players is getting too old. They need to cull some of the aging dead wood. Mullewa is the up-and-coming side.”

As Johnno got into the passenger side of his car and bent down to pick up something from underneath the passenger seat, Donna stood beside the car, sipping her coffee and waiting. Her two mates, not apparently associated with her, stood some distance away on the footpath, facing each other and continued their argument.

“Towns has that pair of youngsters that are football world-beaters,” argued Peter.

“But they are just youngsters,” replied Trevor as he watched Donna.

Johnno got out of the car and held the passenger door open. His manner changed from a pleasant weed dealer into an angry scowling man. Then she saw the gun in his hand, down at waist level, pointed towards her stomach. He snarled, “Get in.”

She nervously dropped her coffee cup onto the pavement, and it spilled outwards with a splatter. As she got in, he slammed the door and, keeping his gun secluded, went around to the driver’s side watching her warily. The two boys sensed something was wrong and closed in. “Donna are you okay?” yelled Trevor.

“What’s going on?” asked Peter.

Johnno turned to face them, and his gun became visible. “You two get in the back of the van.” He then got into the driver’s seat and turned sideways to face them all, with his gun on his lap. “Any funny business from anyone and I will shoot the girl first. Kapisch.”

They all nodded.

“First things first,” he snarled. “You will all put your phones on the centre console there. I don’t want stray photos taken or any recording of conversations. I will be checking them before you get them back. If I find that you have snuck anything in, you will lose that phone permanently.”

They gingerly added their mobile phones onto the console.

Johnno took out his own burner phone and switched on the camera to video and record mode, and ordered, “What’s your full names and addresses?”

They meekly told him.

“Now, I want my All Angels bikie jacket and my money back,” he angrily demanded, looking coldly into the eyes of one after another as he put his phone away.

Trevor spoke up timidly, “Er…, I have your jacket at our meeting house cubby um… a shed in Deepdale.

Peter added hesitantly, “We spent some of the money on new second-hand bicycles from Cash Converters.”

“How much,” commanded Johnno.

Thinking that question was asking for details, and that a bikie would be interested in bikes, Donna gave them all. “Trevor’s Avanti Montari Silver was $400, my Merida Grey was $500, and Peter’s Reid Blue cost around $300.”

Johnno soon came up with the figure, “So you spent $1200 from my cash. I want it all back.”

“But we don’t have it all,” pleaded Peter. “Donna has $500 with her to buy some Marijuana from you today. The remainder is in our shed.”

“Then earn it,” ordered Johnno. “Firstly, take those bikes back to cash converters. Then you can make up the shortfall if you don’t get the full amount back.”

As Johnno started up the car with the gun still in his lap, he asked, “Where is this shed of yours?”

“It’s on a five-acre farmlet that used to grow vegetables,” explained Donna. “But the old guy who owns it couldn’t compete with the ‘Tomato Patch’ plastic sheds, so he just gave up and retired. The shed was left empty, so we use it as a clubroom. He doesn’t care.”

Driving down to Deepdale, Johnno had thoughts about his precarious market with the merchant Dai Nguyen, especially after the previous few days’ end of term’s agitations. Kids would be too eager to talk, so Dai would be found and shut down, and probably imprisoned, and soon. He probably would not talk for fear of Johnno’s threats of retributions.

He had a new plan. “You three are going to earn that shortfall in my money by selling weed, after you get the refunds on your bikes. I will provide the hydro weed and you will market it to your schoolmates and other friends.”

“But we don’t see anybody for the two weeks of school holidays,” pleaded Trevor, “unless we ride into town on our bicycles. If we don’t have bikes, we don’t see anyone.”

Johnno groaned. He could see the dilemma facing them, in the scenery outside the car. Nearing Deepdale it was sparsely populated with farmlets, and they were kilometres from town. So very few sales would be possible out here. He had to relent on the bikes otherwise there would be no gain.

“I will let you keep the bikes. The first $1200 earned by you will pay me back for your bikes. If you don’t sell enough, I will foreclose on all the bikes. After that $1200 cash has been repaid, you can start earning ten percent of all sales.”

“Twenty percent,” said Peter offhandedly, and received a wicked stare in the rear-view mirror from Johnno.

“Now, where is this shed?” asked Johnno.

As they pulled up near the farmlet, he turned to Donna and Peter, saying. “You two stay seated,” and then sent Trevor to get the jacket and the rest of the cash.

When Trevor returned to his place in the back of the van, Johnno held up his jacket in admiration and then counted the cash. Then he demanded, “Now for the other $500. Hand it over, Donna. You were correct. There is just about the $1200 shortfall to make up.

And before we begin this enterprise, you all now know I am a bikie in the All Angels club. Don’t even think about dobbing me in. Our bikie code promises revenge for any member who is double-crossed. Even if I am in prison, the club will find you and kill each one of you or one of your parents. I now know where you live. Kapisch?”

The three children swallowed.

“I will start you off with an ounce of weed, about 28 grams, that is worth about $350. It will be packaged as a common brand of rollie tobacco that is labelled as a 30-gram packet for camouflage. You will need to break it down into kid size packs of around two grams each, and costing around $30, enough for 4 to 6 reefers.”

“How will we measure that amount of two grams?” asked Trevor.

Johnno stopped and thought about it. Some of the dealers he had come across in his travels had a way of measuring out smaller amounts. He gave the details.

“An empty matchbox weighs under half a gram. Filled with weed it weighs about two grams, so will hold just over one and a half grams of weed. You can then charge $25 per box to produce 4 or 5 reefers. Redhead matchboxes can be bought cheaply in bulk at the local supermarkets and are good for camouflaged sales. Alternatively, after you have weighed out the weed in a matchbox, you can tip the matchbox contents into a small zip lock plastic bag, which will pack flatter in a pocket.”

“Sneaky,” smiled Peter, and received another stare from Johnno.

“You can have a couple of reefers each, but don’t get greedy, conceded Johnno. “You need to stay on top of your game, or you will be caught for dealing which can be up to 25 years in prison, for each of you. Now I must go back to town to collect your first consignment from security.”

Donna spoke up quickly, “Can you please drop us back at the Dome Café. That’s where our bikes are.”

When Johnno dropped them outside the restaurant he instructed, “Stay here at the Dome. I’ll be back in 30 minutes with your dope.”

A short time later, he cruised up outside the café to where the three were standing with their bikes. Johnno handed over a packet of rollie tobacco and looked directly at Donna. “I have your number, but this phone of mine is a burner, destined for a watery grave in a few hours after I record all of your details. Do not try to contact me. I will contact you. And a final word of warning, say nothing or die.”

Chapter 27

Callum

Sunday, 14^th April

Two weeks after being shot, Barney was toey. He had tried to build up stamina with evening runs when he could, but life had become very hectic lately. Today at football training he went all out during the fitness warm-ups and the drill sessions that did not involve contact. In laps around the oval and in sprints he was close to leading the way in all activities. He had lost no skill with his kicking, whether short passing kick-to-kick, or long 55 metre punts for goal. His handball was slick and accurate. He was as good as the best around him. But when it came to physical contact, he opted to sit it out with the coach. They talked about the merits of individual players, and where a little extra skills training would develop the footballer.

For the intraclub scratch match he replaced one of the boundary umpires and ran hard to fetch the ball. For his throw-ins he strode in from the boundary for five metres and slung the ball over his head with his left arm. It worked okay, with no excess strain placed on his chest or right arm. By the end of the match, he felt as though he had run out a full game. He had a newfound praise for the boundary umps.

In the changeroom showers after the training session he joked along with the rest of the blokes. Some were quite curious about the long-scarred stripe across his chest, but he just fobbed it off as being quite itchy at times.

He met Carleen in the bar after his short hot shower followed by a long cold one to reinvigorate his weary body. He felt quite alive after the workout, so propositioned Carleen, “How about a night on the town tonight? What would you say to dinner in Town and then a stroll along the beach?”

“You sweet talker,” she simpered. “Where are you leading me off to?”

#

The ambiance at Skeetas Restaurant at night was excellent. Overlooking the Marina with the yachts and pleasure craft rocking in the strong Autumn evening breezes outside the picture windows, it was so peaceful. As they slowly munched through a seafood platter for two, washed down with a Mount Barker Rhine Riesling, they relaxed and contemplated the previous hectic few weeks. Barney began with, “I’ve missed having these quiet nights with you. Things have not been easy for us.”

“I got so worried when you were shot,” she replied. “I didn’t know what to think. I don’t know what I would do without you to love me.”

They just sat holding hands and staring out the window for a long five minutes, until the waiter came to clear the empty plates from the table.

“Would you like to see the dessert menu, Sir?”

“No thanks, we’ll just quietly finish this wine and enjoy the lovely scenery.”

After the waiter moved on, Carleen looked at Barney and asked, “What is it that is really worrying you?”

“Callum,” was his one-word answer.

“Callum?” was her next question.

“Callum was the name of the distributor of Meths to a lot of school children last Friday. That’s all we have, and we have to find him before there are drug deaths.”

“Is he a child or an adult?” queried Carleen.

“We don’t know for certain,” he replied. “The general description was a lad of average height, aged between 15 and 20 with dark hair.”

“The fact is, if he is under 18, he is likely still at school and can be found in the enrolments,” proposed Carleen. “If he is over 18, then he should be on the electoral roll. But it’s a fact that 3½% of eligible electors are not registered in the electoral rolls, so there is just a small chance he may slip past you that way.”

“Great thinking beautiful. That gives me a direction to work on tomorrow.”

“And to help you, I will do a search on the electoral rolls tomorrow and find all the adult Callums in Geraldton. There can’t be that many with that uncommon name. My reward will be first dibbs on any breaking story for the Guardian newspaper.”

“Done,” Barney declared. “Now it’s time for bed. It’s too late and too windy for a beach walk, anyway.”

Chapter 28

Callum Calamity

Monday, 15^th April

First thing in the office on Monday morning, Barney advised Zep of his previous night’s discussion with Carleen on the problem of locating Callum. From descriptions given from the arrested party goers, his approximate height, hair colour and range of age was at least known. “That should be easy,” quoted Barney.

Barney found that tracing a schoolkid was far more difficult than he had first thought. Firstly, it was school holidays so there were only the cleaners at the schools. Secondly the local Midwest Education Regional Office was not allowed to give out student information over the phone.

Zep suggested that Barney should visit the education office down near the Marina Apartments, while he stayed in the detective’s office and checked out social media sites.

Barney was just about to leave the office when Carleen rang. “Bad news Barney. The Electoral Office no longer allow access to the current rolls for general public as they used to five years ago. Quote. ‘Access is restricted to those cases where the public interest in making information available outweighs protecting the privacy of personal information, such as, when it is required for law enforcement and other similar reasons.’ I am unable to do the job, but you will be able to. It's accessible online at the Australian Electoral Commission building right next to the New Museum in the Marina complex. You will need to show identification.

After you do that, I may be allowed to collect the downloaded results for the police search of the Geraldton Region on your behalf.”

“Okay love. I’m on my way.”

Barney hoped that he could delegate Carleen and then check out the Regional Education Offices nearby. He wanted to check years ten to twelve current students as well as the previous three years of finished students.

Three hours later, they were all back at the Police Station. Both the electoral rolls and educational registers had been difficult at first to find a first name, rather than a surname, but both office secretaries used word searches effectively. In the end, they had eleven on the electoral rolls and in the school registers there were eight, three present and five past school years, named Callum. They compiled a list of their findings.

By a process of elimination, crossmatching electoral rolls with social media and current school enrolments they were down to just three students at school and three past students living in town between the ages of fifteen to twenty, and two past students not registered on the electoral roll.

Barney sighed, “It’s a pity that it is school holidays, or we could access their school photographs to find just the dark-haired ones.”

“So, I guess we will need to visit the families and get a look at the possibilities from that list of six addresses,” concluded Zep.

#

Barney and Zep decided to do the visiting together. Observing a possible guilty teenager was Zep’s strength but reading body language was Barney’s forté. In late afternoon they started by visiting the single fifteen-year-old’s home, but found he was too short for ‘average’, There were no sixteen-year-olds, but the two seventeens were out for the afternoon so could not be interviewed. Of the three past students living in town, all were ruled out on either physique or by their hair colour.

With little else to do before knock-off time they visited the last known addresses of the two past students unregistered on the electoral roll. The parents of the first lad informed them he was studying at university in Perth and was probably registered in a city electorate.

The second older Callum was at home, and he fit the picture. He was immediately questioned as to his whereabouts on Friday afternoon and night. Unfortunately for the police officers he was able to confirm that he was working the afternoon to evening shift, working in the kitchen in a pizza restaurant. That left just the two seventeen-year-old current students.

Working overtime, Barney and Zep called in after dark to the first of the two remaining students. As soon as he answered the door, they knew he was not the one. At well over six foot tall, nearly 2 metres, they knew he definitely wasn’t of average height. So there was just one student Callum left to find. His parents said he wasn’t home and had not been seen for two days.

Barney immediately rang the hospital. Yes, they did have an unnamed youth, unconscious, on an electrocardiogram and a ventilator, with no means to identify him. The hospital had notified the media with a general description to find his family. He had been admitted that afternoon, and the doctors said his blood work and urine test showed that he had a Meth overdose. Zep asked the parents for a photo and Barney scanned it and texted it to the hospital reception. With a positive identification, the parents and the police detectives were immediately on the way to the hospital.

“We don’t know how long ago this fellow overdosed,” the doctor stated to the parents and detectives present in the hospital room. “We administered Naloxone as soon as Crystal Meth poisoning was diagnosed and placed him on these machines to monitor his vitals. We will need to closely regulate him as he comes out of this coma and goes into Meths Psychosis and withdrawal.”

“When can we interview him?” asked Barney.

“Probably tomorrow morning, but he may not be very lucid, due to the effects of the drug,” warned the doctor.

“We’ll be back,” concluded Zep, mimicking the Terminator’s voice.

Chapter 29

Sniper Alert

Tuesday, 16^th April

“Melbourne calling,” was announced to Zep on speaker over the office phone as soon as they arrived in the office on the Tuesday morning.

“Hi fellows. I thought that I should catch you up with the current situation on the search for Franz Smidt, the sniper. I am afraid that after a solid week of searching across Australia we have not been able to locate him. We can confirm that he has not used an airport, railway or bus station during that time. He may have managed to get on a boat, but it is more likely that he is still in the country. I’m letting you know so that you may like to take precautions against another attempt on your lives.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” finished Zep.

“Whew,” he turned to Barney. “That’s really bad news. It looks like we will need to continually watch our backs from now on, and I guess we must get back to wearing body armour and carry our service pistols. It’s back into lockdown for all of us.”

“I will need to get Shirley and the kids out of town to safety,” considered Zep. “They enjoyed their five days away in Perth with Shirley’s sister’s family, with her own kids around the same age to show them around the city. I hope they don’t have to stay too long and wear out their welcome. At least its school holidays so the kids and Shirley won’t miss out on school.” He picked up the phone and rang his wife.

Barney rang Carleen. With limited news items in Geraldton, other than a rampant drug wave, she decided on discretion, took leave from the Geraldton Guardian Newspaper, and planned an immediate holiday in Perth with her parents.

Both families caught taxis to the airport that afternoon. They would hire comfortable nondescript cars in Perth for the duration of their stay.

#

Kitted out in body armour with weapons at their hips on that same morning, they were an imposing sight as Barney and Zep confronted the seventeen-year-old Callum in his hospital bed. He was out of the Intensive Care Unit, no longer monitored by all the machines.

“I suppose that you already know that you almost died yesterday,” began Barney. “You were lucky that someone found you unconscious and had the knowledge to get you to hospital, to medical assistance.”

Callum stared at the detectives confused and fidgeted uncomfortably in his bed. “Wh…, Wha…, What happened to me? Why have you put me in here?”

“You had a Crystal Meth overdose,” stated Zep, and followed sternly with, “and we want to know where you got the drugs?”

The boy stared at Zep, firstly in confusion and then in realisation as smatterings of his memory surfaced. He swallowed hard and tried to sound convincing, “I don’t know where I got it.”

Barney decided it was time to shake him up a little. “We have at least nine of your fellow students who will be willing to point you out as the drug dealer who sold them a small hit of Meths. That puts you in the frame as a criminal and will get you up to twenty years in prison.”

“Your age may get that sentence reduced but if someone else overdoses and dies from your dope, you will get life in prison,” added Zep. “We need the name of your supplier to stop that happening.”

“The longer you hold out, then the higher the chance of a death happening soon,” emphasised Barney. “Give us the name of your supplier.”

Sweating and shaking, Callum looked furtively around the room and then at Barney and Zep. “I can’t. I have heard that they’ll kill me.”

“Not if we get them first,” conceded Zep.

“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?” added Barney, “And it may be a short life if they think that you are a liability being alive and still around town. Help us now to get them off the street before they get you.”

Callum went into a brooding silence for almost five minutes while the two detectives watched the agony being fought out in his mind.

“I got it from Dai the merchant who sells wooden doors,” he blurted and then turn over, put his head into his pillow and sobbed away.

They left him.

#

For the midday raid on Dai Nguyen’s store, they went in fully armed and armoured. In the realm of Meths merchants there was usually a gangland link, so they took no chances on there being some protective firepower. With weapons drawn, Barney and Zep followed the two TRG police into the front door as two more busted through the rear door of the building, accompanied by armed uniformed police officers.

“Armed police. Don’t move,” echoed through the building. Dai stood speechless at his counter, with his hands raised. Four more forensic technicians followed and began the intensive search of the entire building. The wooden door merchant and his workshop assistant Quang Vo were handcuffed and taken away in a paddy wagon, followed by the two detectives.

They interviewed Quang first. He apparently had no idea about the meths that his employer was selling, so he could add little information for the detectives to use before they fronted his boss. He was released.

In the interview room, Dai looked around in a daze, seated next to a local solicitor arranged by the police. He was formally charged with dealing in Methylamphetamine Crystals, and they began the interview.

Zep stared at Dai for a long time, then began in a friendly manner, “I recognise you. You were the leader of that deputation who bought fresh food to the Sri Lankan boat people from the harbour. You said you were all originally boat people yourselves, and you were rescued after being wrecked at Rowley Shoals.”

“Yes,” murmured the prisoner.

“You care about people, and yet you sell drugs to children,” calmly spoke Zep.

Dai made no comment.

“Help yourself by helping us,” encouraged Zep.

Dai said nothing.

“You are looking at a prison term of up to twenty years,” insisted Barney in his bad cop manner. “If you tell us who supplies your drugs, we will be able to get you a much-reduced sentence,”

Dai said nothing.

For two hours Barney and Zep used all their skills and finesse to get him to confess, but he just kept denying the charge. Around that time, the forensic team phoned through to say that they had found absolutely nothing in the store.

Dai Nguyen was placed in the holding cells overnight, pending his court appearance on the next day. Barney came up with the idea of getting a sniffer dog up from Perth to do a more intense search of the property. It was arranged for that evening flight from Perth, to be ready for the first light tomorrow.

#

Barney turned out for the usual football training session, later on that Tuesday afternoon. He dressed differently in a long sleeve guernsey instead of his usual short sleeve. For the warm-up laps and sprints, he was off his game. After each activity his mind wandered away, looking out of the oval at the surrounding trees and houses. During his skills sessions, he looked a little weary and quite rusty too. As per the Sunday practice he opted out of any contact exercises and sat low, deep inside the coach’s dugout during the match practice part of the training session.

Just before the end he walked briskly off to the change rooms. Coach Cocker followed him as soon as he finished with the day’s practice. He found Barney in the process of removing an armour-plated body suit from under his footy gear.

“Barney. What the heck are you doing in that,” exclaimed the coach.

The situation was explained in detail to the coach. Barney could not expect to play in matches until the sniper was caught, but he was going to keep fit and be ready.

“I have sussed out the grounds and there are just too many places where a sniper could be set up. That perimeter has just two-metre-high cyclone mesh fence with barb wire strands on top was designed to keep gate crashers out. But beyond that mesh fence is the road on two sides, and more than twenty residential houses with many front windows, and they all can see onto every part of the oval. Cars can pause outside the fence, and peer in. Over by the entrance gate is a two-story high block of flats with an even better view of the grounds. And 400 metres beyond the flats is the wheat silos, with its 13-story service building containing four facing windows in each floor. At least eight of those upper floors look over the top of the flats into the ground. That’s 32 possible sniper vantage points just there. It’s far too open for me to risk playing footy at the Rec.”

After his shower he donned his body armour under his clothes again. He then spent ten minutes in the change rooms with the team to explain his position, apologising for letting the team down. Bill Armstrong, who would be the acting captain, spoke up for the team.

“We understand Barney. It’s your job that has put you in this predicament, and we wish we could do more than just keep a lookout around you. Keep yourself safe, and we hope to have you back among us soon.”

“Thanks Bill, and you guys. On this Sunday I will be thinking of you. Play well and remember what the coach has told you. Good luck.”

#

As he left the changerooms he was followed out by young Liam Sampi, who asked to talk with him. They found a protected alcove behind the grandstand.

“I just want to thank you for speaking out to my Uncle Tommy on my behalf,” Liam spoke solemnly. “But I won’t be around here for much longer. He is going to sign me up with the East Fremantle recruiting agent when he arrives.”

“Did he give a reason for going against my advice?” asked Barney.

“He did mention that he wanted to get the twenty percent of the signing fee and ten percent of my match fees, as my manager, when I play in East Fremantle,” replied the young footballer. “I won’t get paid anything playing in Geraldton until I get into the league side.”

“And that was his reason?” questioned Barney.

“Yes,” said Liam meekly.

“Where is he?” quizzed Barney.

“He is upstairs in the bar having celebratory drinks with his mates, toasting his coming windfall,”

Barney stormed off to the upstairs bar.

“Why have you sold young Liam down the river?” challenged Barney to Tommy Sampi in front of his three drinking mates. “He will be burnt out within a year or so because of your decision.”

“It was my decision to make,” countered the uncle, sipping on a beer.

“We will have to see about that,” Barney replied and walked away alone.

Downstairs Barney found Coach Cocker just getting ready to leave the change rooms and explained his problem. He finished with, “He is just too young and unprepared for Perth City football. Can we refuse to give him a clearance from Railways Football Club?”

“We normally would not stop anyone from trying to better themselves, but you say that Liam does not want to leave his studies unfinished, and work on developing himself in Geraldton for this year?”

“Yes,” conceded Barney.

“Then let’s talk to our Football Player Manager right now.”

Thirty minutes later there was an agreement from the player manager that he would get in touch with the East Fremantle Football Club and put a hold on any offers from them to take on Liam Sampi for this season. He would not be cleared to play anywhere else but in Railways.

Barney wandered down from the Club Offices to find young Liam sitting on the boundary. After a long scrutiny around the ground, he called him over and explained the situation. “This is what will happen, as long as you are sure that is what you want.”

“Yes,” Liam spoke sternly with conviction.

He then went back into the bar and explained the situation to Uncle Tommy. He was furious that the football club had interceded. Barney shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

Without Carleen, Shirley and the kids to worry about, Barney and Zep chose to spend a few nights in an empty cell at the police station. There, at least, they would not need to wear body armour in bed. The station was guarded, with the security police officers wearing their pistols by Zep’s request.

Chapter 30

Turning the Screws

Wednesday, 17^th April

The beagle sniffer dog was given full rein in the premises of the Wooden Door Store. She was disinterested in the front display room of the place, but she became very excited as they entered the rear recreation kitchen. Under the table she pawed the floor and then pointed vigorously at the rubbish bin in the room. There was nothing visible on the floor and the bin was totally empty.

The forensic technician carefully vacuumed the floor area into an evidence bag. The bin was sealed in a plastic sheet, and they all moved out to the alley to inspect the garbage disposal bin. The beagle went berserk.

The rubbish inside it was unremarkable. It contained a few kitchen scraps from lunches that Dai had brought, some empty rollie cigarette packets and a few small empty plastic bags. All this appeared to be nothing, but the beagle was having none of that. She insisted that she had found the motherlode. The garbage disposal bin was collected for full further analysis.

While the beagle was sniffing around Dai Nguyen’s storerooms, Barney and Zep were sniffing around the suspect in the police station interview room, trying to get Dai to talk. When they heard that the dog had discovered scents, though the type of drug was yet to be identified, they increased the pressure. Forensics were working on it.

“We now have enough evidence to show that you have been dealing drugs from your premises,” stated Zep. “We also have a few customers who are willing to give evidence in court. The sentence for dealing, especially to school children, can be up to twenty years. There is only one way to reduce your sentence. Name your suppliers.”

Dai Nguyen considered the dire consequence of ratting on Johnno and the All Angels. A quiet long life in prison was far more preferable than a very short one as a State’s Witness.

He stayed silent.

#

Thursday, 18^th April. A full day had passed, and even though the presence in his business precinct of both Methamphetamines and Cannabis was confirmed, Dai was not going to talk. They had Callum’s statement to confirm Dai was his dealer.

By admitting to his own crime, Callum was presented to the local Magistrate as a State’s Witness, and a juvenile, considering he was only seventeen years old. He was given twelve months Community Service, after he had gone through six weeks of the Drug Rehabilitation Program, plus a suspended two-year prison sentence if he kept his nose clean for a further five years. He would serve no time behind bars.

With Dai Nguyen due to face court in a fortnight, and the rest of Geraldton seemed to have quietened down, Barney and Zep only had the sniper on their minds. Barney suggested that they both go into hiding for a week’s rest. He was unable to train. Zep’s bullet wound was nearly healed.

“How about we both head for Perth to be with our families in out-of-the-way hiding places?” Barney suggested. “I know of a few great holiday chalets in the Southwest where Carleen and I could spend a rejuvenating week. You probably have similar ideas for yourself with Shirley and the kids. It’s still school holidays so it is an ideal time to use some personal injury leave.”

They left on the Thursday evening flight, leaving both of their cars in the police security compound. They had the taxi driver run a circuitous route to ensure they were not being followed to the Geraldton Airport and were later picked up at Perth Domestic Airport by their respective families in the non-descript hire cars.

On the Friday, Zep was quickly talked into a driving tour of the Southwest Coast by his three children. Andy was on university holidays too, so joined the family holiday. They all wanted to visit the famous surfing beaches at Yallingup, Dunsborough and Boronup. By growing up near Mahomets Back Beach in Geraldton, one of the best breaks in Western Australia, they had grown to enjoy the thrills of surfing. They had no boards with them on this holiday but insisted that they could hire some. Zep and Shirley relented, and they booked into a chalet in Yallingup to be near all three beaches.

Barney and Carleen drove to Albany and just touristed around, taking in the sights, and enjoying the feel of the historic town.

PART SIX

Chapter 31

Funeral

Saturday, 20^th April

With the trial and conviction of the brothers Bob and Neville Pavior, the funeral of Tran Sip could now go ahead. The two dog owners were each given sentences of ten years for growing and two years for the interference with a body. The judge thought that the idea of throwing a human body to the pigs was so abhorrent that he made the sentence sequential, so they had a twelve-year sentence, with a possibility of parole after eight years.

The funeral was at Utakarra Cemetery, halfway between the City of Geraldton and the outer suburb of Deepdale. With the poor condition of the body, the usual Vietnamese tradition of mourning with the body in the family home was dispensed with. His sealed casket was kept in the funeral home. Because the Vietnamese Community was a close-knit group, most of them would have known Tran, as a kid growing up among them. Over thirty families attended the service, mostly dressed all in white with white headbands. A dozen of his close school mates also attended. Donna, Trevor and Peter were among those at the front of the grave side.

Following the service Donna’s parents took both Donna and Peter home, while Trevor had his bike for the kilometre home. He was halfway home when a strange car pulled over in front of him. Johnno had a new rental as part of his changing disguise. He emerged from the vehicle to confront Trevor.

“We all need to meet, so get in touch with the other two, to come to the shed,” he demanded.

Trevor rang them. They all arrived at the farmlet shed twenty minutes later.

“Put your phones right there.” Johnno gestured towards a side shelf. “And a reminder that I will be checking them.” They obeyed and then two of them sat on a couple of packing cases and one sat an old swivel office chair, all were against the side of the shed facing him.

“By my calculation you will have earned around $350 towards the cost of your bikes. Hand it over.”

Peter was the bookkeeper, so he stood and reached into his back pocket, drew out a wallet and handed over its contents. “There’s $280 in that lot. As you suggested, we sold it all in matchboxes for $25 each. It worked out to be 12 matchboxes, some were packed a little more tightly than others. We spent $20 on matchboxes and have some of those left over. We had a couple of smokes each. All present and accounted for.”

Johnno grimaced at Peter’s levity and took the money. As he tucked it into his wallet, he pulled out another pack of rollie tobacco and tossed it to Trevor.

“Same again,” he said. “28 grams worth about $350, but don’t pack it so tightly this time. I’ll be back in a week.”

Johnno wandered over to check their phones one at a time, all the time keeping one eye on the kids in the shed. Satisfied he turned to them.

“Time to up the ante.”

“We probably can’t sell more than one bag of weed in a week,” Trevor protested. “The kids don’t have that much in ready cash.”

“I was thinking of Crystal Meths in pill form, already mini-packaged. A quarter gram pill would normally cost $20, but I will let you sell it for $10 each. That’s a small cost for students. You can have fifteen percent of the profits, to keep.”

Johnno frowned at Peter, daring him to raise the stakes.

“NO,” Donna screamed. Then she broke down into tears.

“I have just buried one of my closest friends, through drugs. And you want us to …” she couldn’t finish.

Trevor took up the argument, “At the funeral where we have just been with a whole lot of school friends who were involved in the parties, who saw the results of Meths. It was disgusting and really scary.”

Peter butted in as usual, “They were also talking about Callum, a student who ran around at the parties selling the Ice. He ended up in hospital and then in jail.”

“Go away,” sobbed Donna.

In the room tension of pure opposition, Johnno could see no way to change their minds, so quietly walked out. They heard him drive away.

Donna was going psychotic with worry. Her two friends stood consoling beside her, as she slowly regained her usual poise, and sniffed, “He is a killer, and sooner or later he will decide that we are liabilities to his freedom. We have to be rid of him. We must somehow organise a way to escape his deadly clutches.”

“But if we tell the police, there will be some delay before they find him and act,” considered Trevor. “And if he is on the run as a fugitive, he could still get to us.”

“And he threatened there will be others from his All Angels gang who would follow up, and eliminate us even if he is in prison,” added Peter. “Or do some real harm to our families.”

“Would it be possible for us to deliver him to the police without him being free to attack us?” asked Trevor. “We may not be able to stop the rest of the gang, but we may be able to slow them down somewhat.”

“Well, we found out from school mates with older brothers that their supply chain originally came through the tattoo parlour in town, and we know it also used to include Dai Nguyen, the Merchant from the Wooden Door Store, until he was arrested,” said Peter. “We know also the bikie is All Angels connected, so that links him to the Perth bikies, who are probably his organisers.”

“So if we can put all that in front of the police at one time, they may be able to cut short any repercussions from the bikies,” concluded Donna. “We need to build up some photographic evidence.”

“How about we accept his demand to sell ice,” began Trevor. “And then film him collecting it from the tattoo parlour, and then later handing it over to us.”

“We definitely will not be able to film him inside the tattooist, but surely we can photograph him coming and going from that place.” Peter was planning ahead. “One of us will need to have that building staked out, at the same time we ask him for the Meths.”

“Donna, I know that your folks have a car dash camera that links to a mobile phone,” queried Trevor. “Is it battery powered, or must it be connected in a car?”

“I’m pretty sure it is battery powered, independent of the car,” she replied.

“So we can set it up anywhere concealed,” stated Peter. “Somewhere where he is going to hand over the ice to us.”

“And one of us can be around the tattoo parlour with a mobile phone or camera ready to catch him coming and going,” exclaimed Donna. “That should work, as long as we are not seen or caught.”

“No,” interrupted Trevor. “We must all be here when we accept his demand to sell the ice and then later when he hands it over, so that he will not become suspicious of our agreeing to him. In that case we will somehow need to install a remote camera at the Tattoo Parlour.”

“We can’t use our own mobile phones as he checks into them every time,” agreed Peter. “We will have to borrow one or two from someone. Or buy some. You can pick up a smart phone with a camera for under $100 now days. Maybe at cash converters even cheaper.”

“He came here last time to collect the money and hand over the weed, so perhaps we can get the Meths handover to happen here.” Trevor continued planning. “Donna, can you borrow your folks dash camera for a day or so, saying that you want to use it for a school project?”

“I can do that,” she nodded. “We just need to decide when.”

“There’s the problem,” Peter said. “He arrives out of the blue at random. We need to meet him twice. Once to say we’ll take the Meths and second time for him to deliver it to us. It’s the second time that we need to film him handing it over.”

“We can’t have the camera footage going into my folks’ phone or to any one of ours, so we need to buy two new phones, and set them all up,” Donna pointed out.

“Here’s $100 towards the phones that I didn’t hand over to him,” revealed Peter. “We sold 4 more matchboxes than I told him, so I kept this back for emergencies. Like right now.”

“Brilliant,” echoed both Donna and Trevor together.

Chapter 32

Vacations

Sunday 21^st April

At 2:30 p.m. on Sunday, it was the start of the football season in Albany at Centennial Park. Barney could not stay away so he dragged Carleen to the opening game between Albany Sharks and Albany Railways. She was glad of a relaxing afternoon after two full days of driving and touristing.

Even before the first bounce-down, Barney was on his mobile to Geraldton. He was working. There were three unmarked patrol cars with plain-clothes officers taking turns to drive the streets or walk the crowds in Geraldton’s Recreation Ground during the opening game up there, keeping a sharp eye out for Mad Max. All were miked up and they tried to randomise their movements, but Barney insisted on a quick report every 40 minutes from each pair. He didn’t mind getting a progressive football score either.

He stood with Carleen on a pleasant Autumn Day intently following the plays. She observed how he was fidgeting and changing his balance as though he was participating in the game. She moved behind him and hugged him tightly.

“Settle down darling. It’s not your day today.”

“But I can sense almost every time where the ball is going, or should be going, and I am not there. It’s frustrating, but I can see some plays that might be useful for Railways in Geraldton.”

Railways won in Albany, but Railways in Geraldton lost by a few points to the Greenough Rovers Football Club.

#

Zep and the family spent the morning hours on the beach at Yallingup with a cooling Easterly wind, and a small but beautiful both left and right surf break. Zep and Shirley relaxed under a beach canopy, occasionally going for a dip into the refreshing Indian Ocean. Andy, Billy, and Jeannie were now all experienced surfboard riders and could stand out like the rest on the crowded waves. By the time the mid-morning strong Southwester came in to break up the calm surf, they were all getting quite weary. Then it was time to do some local exploring of the tourist caves and famous Margaret River vineyards.

Zep had been in touch with Interpol to get the full dossier on Franz Smidt, and they had promised to fax it to the local police station at Margaret River. The family had yet to explore that inland tourist town, so that was on tomorrow’s agenda.

#

The following day, on the Monday morning, as the family entertained themselves with the sights of the tourist town of Margaret River, Zep sat in a streetside café and keenly scrutinised the Interpol documents that had been forwarded to him. Corporal Franz Smidt had spent fifteen years in the South African Army, but nothing about his army service was on file, other than ‘sniper’. Following an honourable discharge, he appeared on Interpol’s books as an ‘international mercenary with experience as a sniper’, and Interpol recorded several different aliases.

There had been over a dozen long range assassinations that could have been attributed to him, but none had been confirmed. All were from around half a kilometre away and ballistics showed that each one was done with a different sniper rifle, probably bought or provided for just that task. None of those guns ever showed up again. Even the rifle that had been fired at Barney and Zep had disappeared. Puzzling.

What they did have on him were his photographs, firstly as a corporal with very short hair, then his civilian passport, and later some mug shots when he was arrested on suspicion. Nothing was ever taken to trial. His real South African Passport showed he had done very little travel, so he had access to several different passport ID’s, probably other foreign countries. His video arrival and departures at airports showed his body physique and his general walking gait.

If he was coming at them again, he had to be supplied with a sniper rifle and transport. Who by and where from? Air travel was ruled out. Sea travel was a possibility, but not a passenger ship. Road transport was most likely, but the WA / SA border was well patrolled on the Nullarbor. It was now too late to increase security in the central and north roads’ crossing. He may already be here.

Zep completed the profile on his laptop and sent the email to Geraldton for dispersion to the branch members, and nearby towns.

#

The town of Albany was going into celebration mode for the Thursday 25^th of April, Anzac Day. Albany was the last port of Australia to be seen by every Australian soldier as they left for the European battlefields during the First World War. Over sixty thousand would not return. A great memorial was constructed atop Mount Clarence overlooking the harbour town in memory of their sacrifices. Each year a significant ‘Dawn Service’ was conducted at that memorial with the motto: “We Will Remember Them”.

Barney and Carleen attended the very moving sombre dawn service before departing from Albany that same day.

Chapter 33

The Bikie Returns

Thursday 25^th April

“The bikie will be back this weekend, anytime from tomorrow onwards,” shuddered Donna. “Are we fully ready for him?”

“After we decided that we all needed to be here for the drugs handover, I bought a Wi-Fi pet video camera and two smart phones from Cash Converters and have been charging the batteries and testing all of them for reliability,” Peter announced. “The pet camera is brilliant. It is designed for owners to check up on pets when they are away from them. It can be turned on remotely and recorded onto one of the phones for when the drugs are collected from the Tattoo Parlour. And I have been hanging around the Tattoo Parlour looking for some place where we can plant the video camera to film the bikie coming and going.”

“I’ve been sorting out the junk on the shelves in this shed,” interrupted Trevor. “I have prepared a secret roost for the dash-cam from Donna’s folks, hidden behind the rubbish bits and pieces.”

“When do we set it all up?” queried Donna. “We really should have it all in place by this afternoon, ready for Friday onwards.”

“Right,” said Peter. “I’ll get the stuff I need together and ride into town with the pet camera. I am going to duck-tape it with black tape into one of the small pine trees in the middle of Marine Terrace. It will be up out of reach of people if I stand on my bike to attach it. That way if it is noticed by anybody, they will think it is an ornithologist watching the bird life. It’s a smart camera so will work in poor light and has a motion sensor so will only start recording when someone enters the view frame. If I direct it properly only at the Tattoo Shop doorway, the batteries should last five days. We can use one of the new smart phones to check in on it, and record when we know that the bikie is on his way.”

“Can you get the dash camera from your folks at this time, saying it will be for tomorrow and the weekend?” asked Trevor.

“They have already let me have it,” confirmed Donna. “I have it at home and I have changed the batteries and put in a large SD memory card ready to use it. We will need to fiddle a bit to link it to one of the smart phones for recording. There’s going to be a problem with where we hide the two new smart phones.”

“They both will be put on fully silent, so we can hide them in here,” agreed Trevor.

“I don’t like it,” Peter spoke up. “Some of these new phones on silent suddenly light up with a message call or random sponsor text, even when on silent. I reckon we should hide them in the old dog kennel just outside near the chook yard.”

They all agreed and split up to complete their assigned tasks.

#

“Just what were you thinking?” Psycho Miller stomped around the bikie headquarters in East Perth as he ranted and raved. “Did you think that a bunch of underage kids could replace a real market? The money just isn’t there.”

Johnno Johnston sat in the armchair as his leader stood over him. Three other All Angel bikie lieutenants sat and listened in the same room as Johnno was given the full works.

“It costs nearly as much in petrol to get there and back as we are making on the deal.”

“But boss,” Johnno pleaded to be heard. “Dai Nguyen is out of the picture, and this was going to be a start. I was going to use these guys to influence their mates to also sell for us. Twenty kids selling small lots right across the town of Geraldton would soon add up to a whole heap of weed. And I was going to introduce them to Meths too.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” argued Psycho, but a little less vehemently.

Johnno saw his chance, “With speed in pill form it is pre-packaged into ¼ gram serves already. Initially selling it for half price at $10 per pill, puts it in the range of every kid, just like chocolate and lollies. That’s just for a beginning.”

“Maybe,” Psycho scratched his chin.

“If this kid thing works, we can expand to other towns and city suburbs,” Johnno was on a roll. “It’s worth a .”

“Okay. But it’s on you if it doesn’t,” concluded Psycho Miller.

#

“The pet camera thingy is all set up,” announced Peter as he returned to the shed late that afternoon. “It looks just like a professional bird-watching disguise. Let’s have a look on the mobile.”

They crowded around the screen as the image loaded. Peter had done it just about perfectly, so that people approaching the doorway were well framed.

“Now let us see the other dash-cam footage,” prompted Donna. They all stared at the image of themselves staring down at the phone. Even though the room was a little dim, the video of them in the centre of the room was very clear.

“Great,” they all agreed and then took the smart phones to conceal them in the dog kennel outside.

#

Friday 26^th April

Barney and Zep flew in on the Friday morning flight. Shirly and the two school children stayed in Perth for another week just in case the situation with Mad Max developed further. They booked into an Air-BNB to take the pressure off the family relationships, and the location was at a non-descript address. That enabled them to be temporarily hiding off-the-grid, but close enough to the city’s attractions to continue their vacation.

Shirly took emergency annual leave, though she was not able to give much of an explanation to her employer, the Education Department. She would attempt to home-school her own two school-aged children in Perth, rather than them all risk being in Geraldton. Carleen was in two minds, wanting to be with Barney and possibly being able to cover the evolving news story of the decade about a sniper still in Geraldton. But she also realised that she could be a target or a liability to Barney’s own security.

As before, the two detectives opted to sleep in the station lockup cells where armed officers were on duty all night. But whenever they were out and about doing their normal duties, they carried their service pistols and wore full tactical body armour that was brought in for just that purpose. Another six tactical vests were added so that their police security team were similarly attired.

During their week’s absence, the town had been relatively quiet. There continued to be the usual petty family squabbles, and the occasional burglary, car stealing and drunkenness. For the second week of the school holidays the kids had been content to relax. The break-up parties had burnt off some steam from most of them. A few still wanted a little excitement and there were activities available. There wasn’t much weed for social occasions. That had been mainly destroyed in the search for Tran’s murder scene. Just a small trickle was beginning to filter in from outside sources.

But there was one evolving story. The last Sunday’s football match between Railways and Greenough Rovers had been a generally quiet game, close and vigorous until the end when Greenough managed to win. But an incident occurred during the game when a spectator behind the goals ran up beside the goal umpire as he signalled for a goal. This spectator carried a placard saying in big red letters ‘Railways is Racist’ which was televised live throughout the Midwest on their ‘Match of the Day’.

Ordinarily it was just an Aboriginal spectator, but the message was clearly spelt out in big red writing, so some viewers had to take notice and respond. At the following Railways training sessions on Tuesday and Thursday, a few more spectators had joined the original placard holder behind the fence and they also carried a banner or two. The racism slur was growing. The TV station ran the image a few times but then switched to other more demanding news stories. Barney and Zep saw the written police report, but they didn’t think it needed their attention, until Barney saw the original picture of Tommy Sampi in the goal square with the placard.

“Bugger.”

Chapter 34

Sniper Unleashed Again

April Days

Corporal Franz Smidt was getting quite toey. After being told on Friday 12^th April to “lie low” and wait while the car that he requested was prepared, a week had gone by, and the car was not yet available. They had presented him with his rifle and taken a passport photograph with his new image after three days. They had booked a driver from the syndicate to take him each day from his motel out to a private rifle range.

The drive was just over an hour to the east of the city, and they left at first light, arriving around the time that the mists had almost cleared. There was little regard for security of the gun during the journeys, so it was just hidden under a blanket on the back seat. The range was 1000 metres long, in a valley with misty mountains as a backdrop. Many shots were fired, and numerous small adjustments were made on the scope until he was quite satisfied how it fired with the silencer on the barrel over various distances from 200 to 1000 metres. The gun was ready.

His daily driver knew nothing about the preparation of his car. The only other contact number that he had was the guard who had taken him to the businessmen heads for the earlier meeting and had later delivered his rifle. So, he rang it.

“When will everything be ready for me?” he demanded. “Let me speak to your boss again. This delay is costing me time and money.”

“I’ll find out and get back to you,” was the brief reply.

Two days later, the guard rang the sniper to come and collect his car at the public underground car park in the seedy end of town; the same one where he had met with the businessmen over a week earlier.

Monday 22^nd April

The car was presented to him by a mechanic, who went carefully through the details of the vehicle. It was a Toyota Land Cruiser Series 80, with rear barn doors that opened sideways, as he had requested. The number plates were legitimate Western Australian plates, though the car might not have been the original one registered with those plates. The solid black rear bumper unclipped to fold upwards, revealing a set of air-cushioned securing brackets specifically designed to hold his rifle, with fitted telescopic sights and silencer.

The roof rack contained two additional jerry cans of fuel, knowing he had great distances to travel, and not always at an appropriate time to access a fuel station. One spare tyre was under the rear of the car, and another was strapped on the roof rack. A full swag was laid out in the rear compartment with the rear seats folded down out of the way. His new passport and papers were in the glove compartment. The car was well prepared.

Looking at the map of Australia, Mad Max decided that the Nullarbor crossing would be far too dangerous for him. There would be numerous checks at the South Australia and Western Australia border by Customs and Excise for smuggled goods, by the Agricultural Department for banned fruits and seeds and vegetables. There would also be the Police Department checking for unwanted characters and drugs. With his wanted poster everywhere, he could not and would not take that chance.

That left the option of ‘across the top’ by driving up the central Eyre Highway to Katharine and across the WA border to Kununurra and then south down the coast to Geraldton. That was the long way, but it was all sealed bitumen road and a very popular set of roads.

The shorter way was from Melbourne through to the hills north of Adelaide to Port Augusta and then north up the Eyre Highway to Coober Pedy, and then east to Yulara (Ayres Rock) and onwards on the Great Central Road to Wiluna in Western Australia. Some of this was unsealed but it was unpopulated back roads. This was the route that Mad Max chose.

Tuesday 23^rd April

After a full day of getting on-road supplies stashed away, he left. The first 2350 kilometres from Melbourne to Yulara was sealed road and took two days of driving 12 hours each day. Then he hit the dirt road and his speed over some real rough road was reduced. In the first 100 kilometres after Yulara, he was often reduced to 20 kph. On one bad patch of ‘bulldust holes’ he hit a powdery dust concealed pot-hole that destroyed one of his wheels as he dropped into it at speed. But it meant that the spare tyre under the rear of the car was no longer a liability. Without it strapped underneath, he had gained a little higher clearance as he moved over tracks with high central rocky or clay crowns. This occurred quite often as bypass tracks into the bush were necessary to get around deep sand or muddy holes in the unsealed road.

He knew he had made the wrong decision when he reached the Western Australian border after 240 kilometres of unsealed road, requiring twice to be towed out of trouble. Once out of soft sand on the track and another time out from a muddy creek bed that was deeper than it looked. He had still another 1200 kilometres of unsealed road in front of him to reach the bitumen highway in Wiluna. He just wasn’t a practiced off-road driver, nor prepared for these conditions even with this four-wheel drive.

He was further frustrated and somewhat a little relieved when he heard that the police in Warrakuma, near Giles, just across the Western Australian border, had closed the Great Central Road to all traffic due to too much rain. It was uncertain for how long it would be closed, perhaps a week or maybe three.

Friday 26^th April

He turned around to face just the 240 kilometres of dirt road to backtrack to Yulara again. Then he headed north to Katherine, across to Kununurra and Halls Creek, travelling another 2500 kilometres in two days.

Monday 29^th April

After nearly seven days continuous driving he was exhausted. He was tired of camping beside the road, eating tinned food and sleeping in the van. So, he booked a room in the Halls Creek Hotel for a couple of days rest in a comfortable bed and fresh cooked food from the restaurant.

Chapter 35

Johnno Arrives

Saturday morning, 27^th April

Donna was preparing her school uniform for the start of second term on the coming Monday when her mobile rang its jingly tune. She picked it up but didn’t recognise the number. A jaunty voice on the other end began,

“There is a fashion show at the old shed this morning. You and your friends should get there.” She inwardly groaned knowing that the bikie was back.

They hoped that their surveillance cameras were working now as well as when they checked the reception on the previous evening. All turned up at the shed independently, to find Johnno inside, leaning on the small bench, awaiting them.

“What have you got for me this time?” he growled as they sat before him.

“We made up fourteen matchboxes and sold thirteen,” Peter was eager to show his book-keeping skills. “Here is the $300 profit after we bought more matches.”

“We were having trouble selling the last half dozen, because the kids don’t have much spare money at $25 a pop,” added Trevor.

“Well, you need a cheaper product, and we need to up the ante,” Johnno smiled disarmingly. “Here is the way to do it while dropping the cost to your customers. Oh, by the way, put your phones on this shelf, now.”

“Meths?” groaned Donna.

“Yeah, Meths,” replied Johnno. “At $10 per pill you can supply to more than twice the customers that you were previously selling the weed. The pills are already weighed out so it doesn’t need to be boxed up, unless you want to do it that way. They are an item more in demand, so resales are easier.”

“But it is a Class A drug, and goes with a prison sentence, like Callum copped last week,” argued Peter.

“And the Wooden Door Merchant is awaiting trial for selling it too,” added Trevor. “We used him once for weed.”

Johnno said nothing, but he reached for their phones one at a time and checked their latest happy-snaps and recent texts.

“Now comes the clincher,” began the bikie. “If you are able to convince other school mates to sell Meths too, you can keep 15% of their sales too.” He frowned at Peter just in case. “So the wider the scope for selling throughout Geraldton, then the richer you will all become. And as soon as you pass $1200 in total sales then the bikes are all yours.”

“So we get fifteen percent commission on both weed and speed?” smirked Peter.

“That’s about the gist of it,” replied Johnno. “Are you in?”

The three children looked from one to the other, and finally Trevor spoke up,

“What if we say no?”

“Your new bikes will be smashed and there will be accidents in your families, as I promised earlier. The $500 plus that you earned so far will be mine anyway. You really don’t have an option.”

“Hmm,” mumbled Donna.

“I’ll go and get your next supplies from the warehouse,” asserted Johnno. “Be here when I get back.” He left.

#

“So there is our guarantee if we don’t do as he tells us,” sighed Donna. “Just as I said before. If we don’t get him out of our lives, we are going to suffer.”

“We probably can’t just call in the police, as their response may take too long to be able to protect us,” Peter thought out loud. “We need to immobilise him first, but after we have all the camera footage of the handover.”

“It isn’t possible to drug him,” added Trevor. He doesn’t drink and we have no access to sedative drugs. A dose of Meths may do the opposite to sedating him.”

“How about we physically all tackle him and tie him up, and then call the police,” proposed Peter. “The three of us all together should be able to overcome one person.”

The three teenagers all went quiet as they contemplated the possibility.

“We would have to do it all simultaneously,” considered Trevor. “It might just work if we could all start at him together.”

“What if we use a code sentence like ‘ready set go’ and then all jump on him,” suggested Peter.

“That’s too much of a warning to the bikie that something is about to happen,” reasoned Donna. “How about ‘Railways Football Club’? That’s five syllables and if we were all listening for the final word ‘Club’ it would mean ‘Go’.

“That might just work but remember it’s our lives that might be on the line so we can’t afford to hold back,” argued Trevor.

“What if I hit him first on the head with that small shovel in the corner?” planned Donna. “It may be enough to stun him just before you two bring him down, and then I will join you to hold him down. If you distract him a bit with that football it should give me the chance to pick up and swing the shovel.”

“So what happens after we get him down,” Trevor was still thinking ahead. “We will need to tie him up quickly.”

“Aha,” exclaimed Peter. “I have plenty of Duck-tape on rolls left over from taping up the camera in town. That’s quick and effective, and hard to break.”

“That should do it,” acknowledged Trevor. “All we need to do now is wait for Donna to say, ‘Railways Football Club’.

#

Saturday, 27^th April

Around midday, Johnno strode purposefully into the shed, as he should, because he was now in charge and in total control of these three kids. Off handed he said, “The usual Cannabis crop for you all to sell” as he threw a packet of rollie weed at Trevor, who caught it one handed. He then drew three small pill bottles from his pocket and passed one to each of the children.

“Now, phones on that bench,” he ordered, and they obeyed.

“There are fifteen pills in each bottle for sale at $10 each, so I expect you should turnover $450 from that lot. Your commission will be $70 which will leave me $380 to be deducted from the cost of your new bicycles. Then if you sell all the Marijuana for around $300 you should just about own your bikes”

“We may not be able to sell both the speed and the weed quickly,” said Trevor, standing between the other two, all facing the bikie. As he spoke, he was clasping a football and spinning it end over end in a complete turn each time. The rhythm of the turn was consistent, trying to get the bikie to focus on the action. “Everyone is back at school on Monday so will not have the free time to socialise like during the holidays. Schoolwork takes up lots of our time, so we don’t even get much time to play football.”

“Yeah,” added Peter. “Where we live in Deepdale we can sometime get to practice on Greenough Oval.”

“I’m not into football,” began Donna. “I prefer basketball.” She moved over to the corner to bend down intending to pick up a basketball that was lying there on the ground next to the short-handled shovel.

The next few seconds were critical.

Trevor had Johnno’s eyes on the football, so he tossed it to the right to where Peter was standing. Peter was waiting to pounce the other way, so the ball was unexpected. He snatched for the ball fumbling it further to the right as Johnno watched. Donna on his left ignored the basketball and grasped the shovel, saying “Those two want to play for Railways Football Club.” At the same time, she swung it at the back of Johnno’s head.

A sixth sense enabled Johnno to throw up his right hand and deflect the shovel. He then reached across with his other hand and grabbed Donna’s outstretched arm and pulled her off balance. As she toppled, he punched down at the side of her head. Hard.

Donna felt her cheek bone crack and several teeth were broken off. She fainted with the pain.

With Johnno’s back momentarily turned away from him, Peter, the smallest of the three, dived at the bikies head and wrapped his arms around his throat. Trevor threw himself at Johnno’s waist and tried to pull him down.

Johnno’s arms were still free. He reached up and grasped clothes at both of Peter’s shoulders and bent down suddenly, throwing Peter over his head onto the floor. With Trevor still clasping around his middle, he stepped up to Peter and stomped on his right shoulder. It snapped with a crack, and Peter screamed.

Freed from all other impediments, Johnno grabbed Trevor’s head and pushed it downwards until he was forced to release his grip, sliding to the floor. Johnno then kicked him in the chest, breaking several ribs. Trevor began gasping for air in severe pain.

Johnno just stood there breathing hard. On the floor before him were the three fifteen or sixteen-year-old kids, badly hurting. He hadn’t meant anything like this to happen. He quickly grabbed the three pill containers and the packet of Cannabis from their pockets and fled.

Trevor desperately stood, reached for his phone and dialled 000, and then collapsed. Peter continued to cry out in pain, writhing on the floor. The ambulance arrived within thirty minutes, thanks to Advance Mobile Location (AML) embedded in the triple zero number.

Chapter 36

Johnno Departs

Saturday, 27^th April

The police lockup cells were not conducive to a quiet sleep-in on a Saturday morning. The Friday night drunks were coming out of their benders, and not too quietly at that. Barney ignored the clamour and lay there around dawn, trying to think of a way of diffusing the Tommy Sampi racism slur. Zep had wandered off from his nearby cell, seeking some form of breakfast.

After 30 minutes with nothing inspirational, he decided to join Zep in the station recreation room for coffee and a biscuit. He found an armchair in a quiet lonely corner and rang Carleen for a long “missing you” conversation. He talked about the thing most bothering him, the issue of Tommy Sampi, to see if she had any ideas.

Her first idea was a fake newspaper front page, that showed Tommy’s placard picture under the headline ‘Fraud. This man tried to sell his nephew’, followed by the details about why he was not happy with Railways Football Club. This single page could be distributed to the crowd who currently associated with Tommy Sampi, to sway their decision away from supporting his cause. Since Carleen was not in Geraldton, this was going to be difficult, but the idea was an option when she returned.

Another option was to approach Geraldton’s GWN TV Network and give them the full story. They could then decide whether their publicity was the right thing, or whether they should publish a retraction. They could even direct their football camera crews to focus away from any adverse placards.

Both of her ideas were better than Barney’s, which was to get the Railways Club to ban Tommy Sampi from any of their games. This could become a confrontational issue and merely add fire to his stance on racism. Barney discarded this idea in favour of contacting GWN TV.

After his long conversation with Carleen, he suited up in a tactical vest and drove the 500 metres to the TV Station in one of the station’s unmarked patrol cars. The manager was unavailable on the weekend, so he asked for the next in line. The duty Senior Operations Officer listened to his story and then promised to discuss it with the Program Board when they next met first thing on Monday. Barney was unimpressed, but he understood that they did not want to be embroiled in a current racism case.

Barney arrived back at the rear carpark of the station to pick up Zep, as they were preparing to attend a small break-in in the CBD. This was delayed when an urgent call from the St John’s Ambulance came in, “You need to get here and see this,”

At the shed in Deepdale, three teenagers were arguing with the ambulance staff. Their wounds were not really life threatening and they were insisting on talking to the police before being taken to hospital. When Barney and Zep appeared, they began.

“All Thaints bikie,” mumbled Donna holding her broken jaw. “Athacked uzz.”

“Camera up there,” Peter pointed with his uninjured arm.

“Recorded into phones in the doghouse outside,” painfully wheezed Trevor.

“Okay you three,” Zep spoke sternly. “We’ve got it all now. So go with these ambulance people.”

While the ambulance personnel applied first aid to make the three teenagers comfortable enough to travel, Barney and Zep fetched the camera from the shelf and mobile phones from the kennel. As soon as they saw the character involved on each of the phones that they held, they both announced, “Johnno Johnston.”

The ambulance departed with Trevor lying down and Donna and Peter seated beside him in the back.

Zep watched the recording of Johnno entering the Tattoo Parlour at the time stamped 11:00 a.m. Barney viewed the earlier recording of him setting up the teenagers selling the Meths, and then called Zep in for them both to see the return of Johnno, the handover and then the one-sided fight.

“We have him cold for this,” stated Zep. “And we now know the Geraldton depot for their bikie drugs.”

“All we need now is to catch the child beater,” snarled Barney. “He is probably fleeing town right now.”

“Firstly, I’ll get the station to organise a total raid on the Tattooist right now, with search warrants,” declared Zep. “Lock it down and bring in a sniffer dog from Perth on the first available flight. Now for Johnno.”

“What car was he driving?” queried Barney. “The tattooist camera only shows the doorway, no vehicles. Can we find any other CCTV cameras showing him in the location in a vehicle?”

“There’s a couple of banks with ATM’s and a jeweller with heavy front window security along that same street, but its Saturday with no banks’ inside trading in the afternoons so there is no simple way of accessing them. Perhaps a shop or two may have outside security cameras,” said Zep.

“Maybe the kids saw his car,” suggested Barney. “But they will probably be sedated in hospital by now. Unless we get there in a hurry.”

They took off with lights flashing and siren blaring.

#

Johnno sat in his car outside the tattoo parlour, talking on his phone to Psycho. “Boss. I’m sorry but things have got messed up here. The three kids refused to sell the Meths and attacked me. I got a little hot under the collar and slapped them around a bit.”

“What!” exclaimed his leader. “You beat up children? There were some of our drugs involved? What were you thinking? You had better get out of there, pronto.”

“I was going to dump the drugs in the Tattoo Parlour first,” he interrupted.

“Don’t bother. Ditch them elsewhere,” screamed Psycho. “You had better hope that the kids can’t give a good description of you. Get out of this state before you are caught and have to serve over twenty years for drugs and child beating.”

Johnno started the car and was about to head south out of town when the sound of a siren coming from the south caught his ears. It was an ambulance heading for the hospital. A short time later it was followed by a police siren, also heading to the nearby hospital. So he started heading north up the street.

He was a good half a kilometre away when he was passed by two more police cars coming from the opposite direction as they converged on the Tattoo Parlour. Others appeared in his rear vision mirror, stopping where he had just left.

Johnno breathed out slowly and sped up to a legal speed and headed north, topping up with fuel at the 440 Roadhouse, the last petrol station in the northern suburbs of Geraldton.

#

Zep drove into the emergency area and dropped off Barney, who went straight into the building. He found the three teenagers being triaged inside, still yet to be fully sedated.

“Did any of you three see what car he was driving,” called Barney.

“White Toyota Station Wagon,” wheezed back Trevor.

And Peter the bookkeeper had the numbers down-pat. “1EKA 469”, yelled Peter.

“Thanks guys,” grinned Barney as he turned and sped back to the car.

Zep drove to the Tattoo Parlour so that they could observe the operation. For their own security they stayed inside the vehicle, while Barney phoned through to Perth Licensing Bureau. He was hoping to catch Mitch Page who had done great research for them earlier, but he was off for this weekend. Instead, the technician who they were connected to, listened to their request and then went to work. He was looking for all occurrences of the plate number 1EKA 469 anywhere from now on. If he had time later, could he also track the movements for the previous two days.

He received an immediate hit. Two police cars in the main street had passed that car just 30 minutes earlier. After that, there was nothing.

They could do nothing but wait for another sighting.

Chapter 37

On the Run

Sunday, 28^th April

On the previous day: The road north from Geraldton was well known to Johnno during his supply runs for the syndicate. He put his foot down, enjoying the need for speed. He had not ditched the drugs as suggested by Psycho, because there was well over $1000 of profit to gain for the club when sold at normal street prices. Three hours later he began to relax and, knowing many of the roadside turn-offs, found a quiet place to spend that Saturday night. His car was out of sight from the road, so after a couple of beers from his Engel fridge, he slept soundly until dawn on Sunday.

#

A lot more refreshed, Johnno cruised the remaining two hours into Carnarvon for a substantial breakfast at a takeaway in the centre of town. To stretch his stiffening legs, he went for a long walk down the main street, to call in on the gymnasium owned by the All Angels. Inside the office with the manager, he handed over the rollie packet of Cannabis and two of the three pill bottles of Methylamphetamines. “Just a little extra to add to the storeroom,” he said with a wink.

Back in the car he called in on the All Angels owned petrol station to refuel. A quick transfer of the remaining pill bottle to the manager and his fuel bill was cancelled.

Now that he felt relatively safe in familiar territory, he had a decision to make after checking his Google Maps. Whether he should travel due east for 175 kilometres to Gascoyne Junction and then south for 500 kilometres to Mullewa, bypassing Geraldton on the way south to Perth along the inland highway. But this first 675 kilometres was mostly unsealed gravel road and tortuous driving conditions.

The other option was from Gascoyne Junction for 490 kilometres southeast to the inland highway at Cue. Again, this first 660 kilometres was tortuous unsealed road. But from Cue it was a good fully sealed major inland highway to Perth. Neither option really appealed to Johnno, and he kept remembering the voice of Psycho, “Get out of this state before you are caught and have to serve over twenty years for drugs and child beating.”

He decided to keep heading north.

#

Perth Licensing Bureau rang through to Barney, informing him that car license plate number 1EKA 469 had been spotted by the only street camera that they had in Carnarvon. It was recorded at 10:00 a.m. on Sunday in the main street.

Barney and Zep had a long deep conversation.

“We can’t just sit here, twiddle our thumbs, waiting and hoping that someone up north spots his car and arrests him,” considered Barney.

“While we are in Geraldton we remain prime targets for Mad Max, if and when he arrives. Maybe he is already here sighting in on our known haunts,” reflected Zep, while scratching his itchy spot over his almost healed bullet wound.

“So we are stuck in this office day and night,” grimaced Barney, “with our families not able to return until it is all clear. I am unable to turn out for football as it is too much in the open. Even training around town presents some danger.”

“Or we can be proactive and head north out of town for some days,” speculated Zep. “It will be safer for us to be out of Geraldton. If Johnno is seen or even caught, we will be able to take charge and escort him back to Geraldton and justice. Meanwhile the local lads can keep a close lookout to try to spot Mad Max in town as he moves around trying to find us.”

“We know exactly what Johnno looks like,” Barney iterated. “We have his car description and a general direction and may be able to track him through country towns with help from licensing.”

“Let’s do it,” they both agreed.

#

Leaving Carnarvon mid-morning, Johnno set himself the task of reaching Karratha by nightfall. The 640 kilometres was on excellent National Highway, and only the presence of immense road trains and dozens of caravans towed by the grey nomads escaping the south for the winter months, slowed him occasionally. His late lunch was also his fuel stop at the Nanutarra Roadhouse.

At Karratha, even though Johnno was 1500 kilometres from Perth, he did not dare to book into accommodation. He could always give a false name and pay by cash, but he was unsure whether his car was recognisable, so did not take a chance. He found a truck stop some kilometres before Karratha, which had several side tracks used by local bush-bashers. He drove off road far enough to be unseen. A couple of spare sandwiches from his purchased lunch was his evening meal with a cool beer from his Engel mini fridge. He slept soundly after checking his odometer for his 850-kilometre day’s driving.

Barney and Zep used the unmarked patrol car for the pursuit. By switching over the driving every couple of hours, they only needed to stop occasionally. They were in Carnarvon by nightfall, but then hit the problem of not knowing whether to continue northward or cut to the east. A desperate phone call from Barney to Perth Licensing Bureau was to remind them to monitor the camera feeds all night and let them know of any contact immediately, night or day. They refuelled with food and petrol and then booked a twin single motel room. They slept with their phones beside them, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

#

Monday, 29^th April

Johnno treated himself to a full breakfast in a petrol station café diner in the main street of Karratha, before he hit the road. He decided to bypass Port Hedland just after midday, stopping only at a roadside service station, without going into town. From there he spent the whole afternoon, 6½ hours on the open plains and ridge country, along the Eighty Mile Beach Road to reach Broome at dusk. He crawled into a roadside track after another 840-kilometre days travelling, ate, drank and slept.

It wasn’t until mid-morning on Monday that Barney and Zep received the notification that the plate number 1EKA 469 had been sighted in Karratha. They then knew that Johnno’s direction was north, probably heading out of the State, and towards Darwin. They now had direction and purpose so just drove continuously between fuel and food stops. They bypassed Port Hedland, pausing long enough for refuelling, and a bite to eat at a roadside service station and to check licensing for a plate sighting but they were unrewarded, so continued on.

#

Tuesday, 30^th April

Johnno slept in on Tuesday in Broome. Those two long days of driving were starting to tell on him. But he resolved to keep going, albeit a little less hectic. After another 700-kilometre day, he pulled up on the outskirts of Halls Creek and camped for the night. He was running out of supplies so he knew he would have to risk doing some shopping on the next morning.

By Tuesday, Barney and Zep were in Broome just after 2:00 p.m. The Perth Licensing Bureau had left a text message which they received when nearing in Broome. Johnno had passed through the camera there at midday. They were closing in and needed more feedback from Perth Licensing Bureau, but some towns ahead, like Fitzroy Crossing and Halls Creek, were too small to rate the licensing cameras, relying on local police cruisers, if and when they were on the move. From now on they had to drive around to check the townships as they passed through them. After checking the main streets and suburbs of Broome they reached Fitzroy Crossing just on sundown. Having done over 1900 kilometres within the last day and a half, they were both tired so opted for a night in a comfortable bed, and a proper meal. They would be on the road again at dawn. The next township was Halls Creek, another 300 kilometres ahead.

#

Wednesday, 1^st May

Johnno had to wait until 9:00 a.m. until the Halls Creek supermarket opened for his shopping. A little later he was at the rear of the hotel ready to stock up on beer.

Barney and Zep left Fitzroy Crossing just after dawn, and three hours later decided on a good-sized breakfast, so opted to go to the hotel at Halls Creek.

Chapter 42

Halls Creek Hotel

Wednesday, 1^st May

It was mid-morning. Barney and Zep were enjoying a coffee while seated in the front bar of the Halls Creek Kimberley Hotel when Barney needed to answer a call of nature. He was at the wash basin when he stared into the mirror at the bloke beside him. The man stared back. Instant recognition from both parties. It was Mad Max. The wanted poster in the police office had some of the characteristics, but this man had clearly responded when he recognised him. It had to be.

Mad Max slapped his pocket and realised he carried no side-arm, so he suddenly leant over and roughly shoved Barney sideways. Barney grasped for a wash basin, but it was wet and slippery, and he crashed to the floor. Looking up he was in time to see Max disappear through the door. He rushed out from the toilets to see the rear door of the hotel just closing.

Barney called out to Zep as he sped to the door. “Mad Max just went out back. Go around the side but watch yourself.”

Zep ran out through the front door and circled around the building to the rear carpark. His pistol was pointed as he peered around the corner but could see nothing.

Meanwhile Ian (Johnno) Johnston was sitting in his car at the rear of the Halls Creek Kimberley Hotel, talking on his phone to his girlfriend in Perth.

“Pack some tropical clothes and get a flight to meet me in Darwin. We are off for an extended holiday in Bali. Whatever you don’t bring we can buy cheaply in Darwin or up there in Bali. Oh, and please bring my spare passports, especially the ones we use last year when we holidayed in Bangkok. I don’t think Ian Johnston will be allowed to fly out from Darwin.”

He was interrupted in his conversation when a man dashed from the rear door of the hotel, over to the back of a four-wheel drive. He fiddled for a minute with the rear bumper until it flipped upwards, and then he pulled a sniper rifle from inside the compartment.

Just then Barney Merrick also exited the building and stopped in the middle of the rear courtyard looking around. He momentarily glanced Johnno’s way but only saw a seated driver, not a fleeing fugitive. The sniper began to load the gun. Johnno reached under the passenger seat for his own protective firearm.

Barney began to move in random ways, not staying in the one place for more than a few seconds. He was looking for someone, but he was right out there in the open, and he sensed he could be in danger.

As the sniper leant around his car to take aim at Barney, Johnno leaned over to lean on the passenger window ledge and fired two distraction shots at the sniper, not intending to hit anything, but to warn his usual adversary, detective Merrick, of the impending danger. Johnno was not a killer, in spite of his reputation.

One of the shots ricocheted downwards off the upturned bumper cover towards the sniper. Mad Max had a good sight on Barney and was in the process of squeezing the trigger when his knee exploded with the ricochet bullet. He jerked in pain, pulled the trigger wildly, fell over and the rifle flew out from his hands. He was crawling to get it again when Johnno fired a third shot just past the rifle, with red dust spurting into the air.

“Leave it alone,” Johnno called. “or my next shot wont miss.”

“Freeze,” growled Zep through the driver’s side window. He was covering Johnno, while at the same time scanning over the car, watching the sniper squirming on the ground behind his car. Barney, with his pistol at the ready, came around the other side of Max’s car and kicked the rifle further away.

Several people appeared in the doorway at the rear of the hotel, curious on hearing the shots. Zep called out loudly, “Police. Stay inside and shut the door.” They obeyed.

#

“Corporal Smidt is recuperating in the Halls Creek Hospital, handcuffed to his bed with two armed policemen in his room, 24/7,” began Zep. “He lost a kneecap in the process and will need major surgery when he reaches Perth. The emergency department surgeons in the hospital say he will be stabilised enough to travel after a day or so. We will be transporting him in our patrol car to Broome to organise a secured aircraft flight to Perth. The Royal Flying Doctor Service doesn’t have the room in its air ambulance for a patient and armed security guards. He is too dangerous to send alone. He will just have to suffer the car ride to Broome with us.”

Johnno listened. He was handcuffed and seated in the interview room in the Halls Creek Police Station. “What about me?” he enquired.

“Despite you savagely beating up three teenagers you are not regarded as a vicious dangerous criminal,” Barney spoke. “We will try to arrange a charter flight from here to Geraldton. Not Perth.”

“Those three teenagers smashed into my car, stole my club colours and my gun and my money, and later betrayed and attacked me,” frowned Johnno. “We had to go to the Sydney Gun Merchant to buy my gun back.”

“We want you back in Geraldton and we want blood,” grimaced Zep. “You have caused lots of grief throughout Geraldton, especially among the teenagers. The families all want to see you crucified. A trial in Geraldton with a jury of local citizens seems quite fitting.”

“Unless of course you turn States Evidence,” Barney smiled sweetly. “And give us all the lowdown on your gang’s operations. Then after we chop down the All Angels we can then hold your trial in a neutral venue. When convicted, you will serve your time in a secure lockup and afterwards we will put you and your girlfriend into witness protection in another state. I will even strongly speak out for you for saving my life, and the video evidence shows that those children first attacked you.”

“What video evidence?” asked Johnno.

“Didn’t you know that your entire sales negotiation with the teenagers in the shed was being taped, right down to the threats forcing them to sell drugs, then the handover of pills and then finally the attack and your vicious retaliation onto them. We have you cold, thanks to those three children.”

Chapter 43

The Road to Broome

Friday morning, 3^rd May

They left Halls Creek just after midnight following the Thursday afternoon and evening of relaxation and sleep as they awaited Mad Max to be cleared from hospital.

“We have 700 kilometres to travel which will take about seven hours, so if you wish to tell us any of your story it will be off the record and not taped. You have no lawyer present to advise you on your rights. Let us know if you need more pain medication.”

Zep spoke to Mad Max seated in the back of his unmarked patrol car, as they drove from Halls Creek to Broome. He was uncomfortably seated with handcuffs behind his back and with ankle shackles on his lower legs. His wounded knee was heavily braced in a solid plaster cast. Seated beside him was an armed officer.

“I have nothing to say,” Franz Smidt was adamant.

Barney turned to Zep and laughed. “Did you hear the one about the number one sniper in the World who got sprung in the dunny?”

“No,” replied Zep. “Tell me all about it.”

“This bloke travelled all the way across Australia to do a patch-up job, after he stuffed up the first time, and then he botched it again,” narrated Barney. “He was taken down by one of the locals who was just sitting in his car on his phone.”

“All the way from Sydney you say?” added Zep.

“That’s where his car with the false plates came from,” Barney confirmed.

“Melbourne,” grunted Max.

Barney continued his narrative, almost uninterrupted, “So this former South African Corporal drove non-stop from Melbourne to Halls Creek for three days…”

“Seven days,” moaned Max.

“How come you took seven days?” interrupted Zep.

“I tried to cross using the Great Central Road, but got turned back,” said Max.

“The legendary Great Central Highway, that’s on my bucket list,” sighed Zep. “What’s it like?”

“Miles of dirt, sand, mud, and potholes. I was totally unprepared for that road, and I was lucky to be turned back at the South Australian border. It was supposed to be even worse on the Western Australia side.”

They had him talking. They could only hope he could be kept going.

“Your original contractor must have been really pissed when they flew you all the way direct from Melbourne to Geraldton and return, and all they got in return was a couple of nicked coppers,” prompted Barney. “Who were they?”

“The first contract was all done online,” Mad Max stated. “I did not meet anyone until I was dragged before one of the bosses later.”

“Who were … ?” calmly enquired Zep, leaving the question unfinished.

“I later discovered from the minions, when they were getting me ready for the second coming, that the heavies were all part of the Wong Corporation,” bluntly specified the sniper. “They wanted revenge on the two of you.”

“Ah, Wong Corporation,” mused Barney, remembering the earlier gun-running case in South Fremantle. “You are going to be in deep shit. You failed them twice and they don’t like that. And you probably have seen some of the senior men and they won’t like that either. You are now a liability.”

Corporal Franz Smidt swallowed hard.

“You have several options,” began Zep. “Give us everything you can on the Corporation, and we will try to shut down their operations before they can get to you.”

“But they are so big, and I know very little,” murmured Mad Max.

“Or you can work with us to draw out some more of their leaders,” continued Zep. “By communicating with them further,”

“Or you can just keep shtum, and wait until they eliminate you in prison,” finished Barney.

“I only met one of the bigwigs just once in a carpark,” Max revealed. “And after that it was one driver who picked me up from my Bridge Street Motel in Richmond to take me to the rifle range each day. That was a private shooting range on a farm that must have been owned by the syndicate. The driver will know where it is.

I had just one phone number – my guard who brought me the sniper rifle and later-on delivered the car, but that was a burn phone that no longer works.”

“So you really have nothing for us?” groaned Barney.

The sniper thought quietly for a few minutes and then nodded wisely, saying, “My aeroplane.”

“What about it?” questioned Zep.

“After I completed the hit on you two for the second time, they were going to fly me to Darwin and then on to Bali or Singapore. No passports or security checks would be required when leaving Australia in a private plane. I had to let them know when I was ready to leave Geraldton.”

“How?” asked Barney.

“I had to memorise a mobile phone number, and give a code word when it connected,” he stated.

“So now we are fortunate that only the Emergency Department at Halls Creek know that you are a prisoner,” said Barney. “And our other prisoner Johnno Johnston knows too. They have all been asked to stay silent until we have had a chance to back-track on your contract.”

“Now do we formally interview you in this car without a lawyer,” Zep began in his stern voice. “It will be recorded, transcribed and placed before the court. Or do you wish to try to get some things done that will later be said in your favour before you are formally charged. Once we have your evidence, we can send you to Perth.”

“Later,” was his one word.

“Right oh,” began Barney. “It will have to be Geraldton for you. We will need to get you into protective custody there, via a commercial airline, so we can continue this conversation. To do so we will have to keep your identity hidden, so we are going to bandage your face to keep you as an unknown. And don’t think that is an imposition, because we have to go through worse. We need to show there is still a sniper out there so we will have to wear full tactical armour everywhere around Geraldton. Our families will need to stay hidden. And I will still be unable to play football and captain my team on wide open football grounds. You had better be worth the trouble.”

#

Franz Smidt, with his injured knee and a fully bandaged face for his own security, was loaded by wheelchair onto the next commercial flight to Geraldton around midday on that Friday. He was still shackled by his hands and feet and escorted either side by experienced prisoner transfer guards. The two detectives were getting prepared before the long drive back to Geraldton in the unmarked patrol car, with Barney as usual griping about not getting his fair share of the driving.

He had a thought and changed the subject. “Zep. Have we got time to do a job here in Broome before we leave?”

“I suppose so,” Zep replied, knowing that with Barney it would be something important.

Barney rang Liam Sampi in Geraldton and asked for the address of his father in Broome. Google Maps had them outside the house in North Broome within a short while. As they approached the door, it opened and a strong middle-aged Aboriginal walked out to greet them. “Jack Sampi,” he said shaking their hands. “Liam phoned me to say you were visiting. What can I do for you Barney Merrick, as the Captain of Railways Footy Club?”

“Mr Sampi,” began Barney.

“Jack,” interrupted Liam’s father.

“Jack, we have a problem with Liam in Geraldton.” Barney went on to explain the situation where Tommy Sampi, Jack’s own brother, was trying to sell young Liam into East Fremantle just for the commission on the signing fee. Barney explained why he had interceded and the consequences that Tommy had used to embarrass the Railways Football Club.

“So this member of our Tawuru Tribe from Broome is stirring up some Yamatje people just to get his own way in Geraldton?” asked Jack.

“That’s about the gist of it,” confirmed Zep.

“Now that we know,” Jack sombrely thought out loud, “I will get in touch with the tribal elder, Wally Dodson, who used to be head of Yawuru Lands Council and he will know what to do with my brother. In the meantime, one of my sisters lives in Geraldton too. She can take care of my son. I will phone them all.”

“Thank you, Jack. I am sure that Liam will become a great footballer in time, and maybe a great businessman too,” finished Barney.

“Thank you for caring enough to stop by,” Jack shook their hands as they left.

Chapter 44

The Road Home

Saturday, 4^th May

Barney and Zep had decided on that early morning start at Halls Creek. By doing so, they covered the first 700 kilometres to get to Broome to get Mad Max between two security officers onto the early afternoon flight to Geraldton. So now it had given them the opportunity to keep going for the next 600 kilometres to reach Port Hedland by evening. That would allow them a good night’s sleep around that halfway point before leaving them another 1200 kilometres to get home by Sunday night,

“Wong Corporation wanted revenge on the two of us,” mused Barney during his spell of driving. “That is what Mad Max said. I suppose that’s because we cost them their lucrative gun business, one dead soldier and several of their minions in prison in Western Australia, plus their South Fremantle mansion confiscated, and a fleet of cars too.”

“As well as that, several buildings and cars and bank accounts in Melbourne and Adelaide were lost to ‘profiting from illegal activities’ added Zep. “Vic Police put trackers onto their car movements between their gun selling depots in Victoria and South Australia and then stepped in to round up the lot.”

“It’s a pity they could not get a match in Sydney to clean up that joint too,” considered Barney. “But didn’t Johnno say they had to get his replacement gun from a dealer in Sydney? We may have a small lead to follow up there.”

“According to Ping Yang she was hired by somebody in Melbourne to support Mad Max.” Zep diverged away from topic of the gun hire. “That somebody had to be Wong Corporation, and it was Fremantle Trucking Company who supplied her car and also transported the sniper rifle from Melbourne.

Wong Corporation is a big chain of licensed restaurants, with hundreds of employees and many travelling supporting agents using registered Wong Company cars. There are supply chains using trucks labelled with Wong Corporation too. Now it appears that secondary to those, is an underground network of other trucking companies within each State, with dozens of trucks registered locally, and probably cars as well. It was almost certainly a car that spirited Max’s first sniper rifle away. At the time, we only checked trucks.”

“Speaking of cars,” interrupted Barney. “Mad Max was picked up at his Bridge Street Motel in Richmond by a Wong connection. We may be able to track that car down and grill the driver for more information.”

“Good idea,” said Zep. He reached for his satellite phone and he rang the Melbourne detective’s branch and passed on the message.

#

The next afternoon as they neared Geraldton. Zep was texted to contact Victorian Police. They pulled into a country town to get better reception on his normal mobile.

Victorian police had checked the motel for security cameras for that period and were excited to find a recording of the car that picked up Corporal Smidt each morning. The vehicle was one of several that was registered to the North Melbourne Trucking Company. The driver was identified as an employee of the business.

On further investigation of this firm, they found that it was registered to a shell company, so that was no help. But they also found that it was despatching and receiving freight from both the Fremantle and South Sydney Trucking Companies in their non-descript trucks. There were probably other depots that they had yet to discover. The Wong Corporation had a second transport and communications network, other than supplying their restaurants, so what else besides guns were they running? Possibly it included alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, or other smuggled contraband.

As they arrived in Perth, Zep was phoned by an unknown number. It was the Australian Federal Police (AFP). Because the investigation now involved three different trucking companies in three different states, the whole police leadership was handed over to the AFP. They were bigger and stronger with far wider resources. The Feds asked Barney and Zep to keep this latest discovery quiet. They needed time to track these hundreds of vehicles to try to identify the other Wong gun and other contraband depots and storehouses.

Chapter 45

Two Prisoners

Monday, 6^th May

“If we chase down that aeroplane, it will trigger an admission that we have captured Franz Smidt,” argued Zep. “That may interfere with the AFP investigations.”

Barney and Zep were back in the Geraldton police station on the Monday morning, as they considered where to go from here. Both of their prisoners were now at the Greenough Regional Prison in isolation. Mad Max had undergone surgery on his knee on Saturday morning and then spent the next two days to recuperate in the prison hospital before being confined into the highest security available, which wasn’t much. No communication and visitors were allowed, for their own safety.

“But until we admit we have Mad Max, we are stuck in the office, or have to wear full tactical armour, our families are elsewhere, and I am unable to train or play football,” explained Barney again. “We need to increase the tempo of the investigation, to open up more avenues for further enquiry.”

#

The first prisoner they interviewed in the Greenough Prison was Johnno. He was extremely nervous about his surroundings. Although he was isolated from everyone, he knew enough about prison to know that the grapevine would be talking about the two new unknown prisoners. Guards could be bribed or coerced. This prison was only a low security jail so there was no real high security wing, just a few isolation cells.

“We need to get the full details on the All Angels Bikies so we can destroy them before they find you,” Zep was straight forward with his interrogations.

“Thanks to the children, Donna, Trevor and Peter, we have already shut down the Tattoo Parlour. The sniffer dog found the stored stash of several types of drugs under the floorboards, plus the wads of cash. The manager was arrested, and he named you and Brian Pearson as the bikie couriers delivering drugs and collecting the profits.

You were quite explicit on their video in trying to set the children up to sell both Cannabis and Methylamphetamines to other children. That was just before you beat them up.

Another of your outlets, the Wooden Door Merchant was shut down earlier. The kids linked him to you when you went chasing Donna after your gun and jacket. That’s Geraldton cleaned out, but I bet that the bikies are hopping mad looking for someone to blame. Give us all their details and save yourself.”

Johnno swallowed hard and began his verbal statement. It was both audio and video taped for the record.

“The drug outlets owned by the All Angels in Carnarvon are the gymnasium, a tavern and an independent petrol station. We diversified after being hammered in Perth CBD by police a couple of years ago after the feud with the Gero Garbage Bikie Gang. Our headquarters are still that building in East Perth, which is owned by a shell company. We have three Meths labs spread though the Metropolitan Area, well hidden from other bikie groups and the police. There are several farms scattered around that have a crop or two growing Hydro Cannabis in covered gardens.”

Johnno went on to detail their holdings. The drug outlets along the inland Great Northern Highway in Mount Magnet, Meekatharra and Newman were named. He then named other businesses owned or controlled in the Metropolitan Area of Perth that acted as fronts for drugs and money laundering. He named Psycho as the boss and the top dozen of his lieutenants who ran the various businesses.

The audio statement was sent immediately to be transcribed at Geraldton Police Station and emailed to Perth Central Police Station for instant action. Within a couple of days, the All Angels Bikies were hit from all sides by the anti-gangs police, the drug squad officers and the major crimes unit, with major back-up support from the TRG and local police. They had no time or chance to react against Johnno. Drugs and cash were discovered, then bikes, cars, bank accounts and buildings were also seized under the Proceeds of Crimes Act. Most members would face trial.

With his written full confession prepared, within a week, Johnno would be taken into the Geraldton District Court before the Circuit Judge for a hearing and sentencing, and then into Witness Protection while in custody and afterwards.

#

“It’s time,” Zep began to Mad Max in Greenough Regional Prison. “We need to bring that aeroplane into Geraldton airport to see what we can catch. You will need to send the message, but we won’t involve you. We are keeping you in total security until it is far safer for you, but we are preparing this trap using your name.”

“What!” screamed Max. “Wont that make me more of a target?”

“The aim is to lessen the opposition so that you are less of a target,” smiled Barney. “The more of the Wong Corporation that are nailed, then there will be fewer to come after you.”

“Just before you send the message, we will have a member of the local TRG fire two loud rifle shots into the sea out on a boat in the Marina, so there it is heard by people around in the nearby museum and restaurants. The Geraldton Guardian will run a small item on the front page saying, ‘Shots fired, police investigating, no further details available’. That should get Jimmy Wong thinking that he has been successful and perhaps drop his guard a little.”

The aeroplane VH-KFS arrived three hours later at the Geraldton Airport ready to transport Mad Max out of Australia. It was quietly redirected behind the hangars and seized. The pilot was arrested. He could give them nothing other than he was contracted online to fly the plane and was to be well rewarded for his mission. The plane had been hired and collected from Perth Domestic Airport. Bingo, here was the big discovery. The company that hired the plane was the Fremantle Trucking Company. Zep immediately notified the AFP and was ordered to cease all further investigations into that company until the Federal Police gave them the go-ahead.

While on the phone Zep had a bright idea. He requested that the AFP email photographs of Jimmy Wong and as many of his lieutenants as they had on file. Later that afternoon, Barney and Zep went to the prison and showed Corporal Smidt through the portfolio. He pointed directly at the one who had issued his second contract killing, the Boss at the underground carpark. He was the Distribution Manager for the Wong Corporation Restaurant Chain. Bingo again.

At last, they were closing in on the real Boss. However, it seemed that Jimmy Wong was far too wise to be involved with personally setting up the assassination contract. Max’s importance was thus diminished as he was not a direct witness to the Senior Boss. They had effectively kept him at arm’s length.

With the folio of photos of Wong lieutenants in his hand, Barney had another idea. They went along to the security cell of Johnno and showed him the pictures. There was no one that he recognised.

If they were not Wong or his senior employees, then who were they. Later that afternoon they asked the AFP if they had any photographs of the Sydney Trucking Company executives. The next morning, they presented them to Mad Max, and he pointed out the bigwig in the Sydney mansion.

“Gotcha,” proclaimed Barney reading the description on the photo of the man. He was the Deputy Manager of the Sydney Trucking Company. It was assumed that the others in the room were his heavies, running the gun trafficking in Sydney from his mansion, using the trucking business as a front and a pipeline.

Chapter 46

Trials

Tuesday, 7^th May

“We should be safe to move about now,” Barney almost pleaded. “As far as the Wong people know, the sniper was successful, the code word was sent for the plane, which they would assume is now on its way heading somewhere up north. We should be able to bring our families back home.”

“I’d almost agree with you if it wasn’t putting my wife and children into some possible danger,” replied Zep. “We don’t really know whether there was another back-up sniper in case he failed again. That’s one of the reasons why we have Mad Max buried in local isolation, just in case they try to eliminate any witnesses.”

“Okay, I get the picture,” agreed Barney. “I will leave Carleen in Perth until we hear from the AFP that they have started their task force manoeuvres. But I am going to training this afternoon. I will wear a light weight bullet proof vest, a different numbered guernsey and wear a concussion helmet that straps down the sides of the face. Just a little bit of a disguise.”

“And stick a pillow down your front to show that you have put on the extra weight that you have gained over the last few weeks,” smirked Zep.

“Yeah, right Boss,” replied Barney. “But they’ll think it’s you.”

#

During the time when Barney and Zep were in Halls Creek, Dai Nguyen had already faced the magistrate in his drug trial. The three teenagers were among the witnesses who named him as one of their weed suppliers at his trial. His guilty plea for selling Class A drugs to Callum and other children, and refusing to name Johnno as his supplier, earned him a five-year prison sentence.

Following their return to Geraldton, the trial of Donna, Trevor and Peter for breaking into and entering of cars, stealing items, and selling drugs was held at the Geraldton Children’s Court. On that Tuesday morning, Barney and Zep were called as the arresting officers.

The Children’s Court Magistrate on circuit roster from Perth, heard their testimony that they had broken into the cars to get the cash for personal weed for the end of term break-up celebrations. They had never intended to be dealers until forced into it by Johnno, who with a gun in his hand, compelled them to make up the shortfall of money they had taken from his car. They fought against him to discontinue the enforced criminal actions and were beaten up by him. They admitted to stealing but declared they were technically not guilty of dealing drugs. Zep presented the video evidence from the shed to support their claim of being forced into the crime. He then went on to explain how these three children had single-handedly broken the Geraldton drug market apart and started the ball rolling that had State-wide ramifications of cleaning up a widespread racket.

For the car vandalism they were each fined $500, to be paid to the three car owners. Johnno’s car break-in was ignored. The laptop owner had been insured but he had lost some of his data that was not backed up. For their thefts, they were each sentenced to six months community service after undergoing six weeks of the Drug Rehabilitation Program, and then they received the grateful thanks of the court.

#

Zep kept his tactical armour on under loose fitting civies, as he escorted Barney to footy practice and watched from the coach’s shelter on the sidelines.

Barney was welcomed like a long-lost brother, with everybody crowded around him in the changerooms as they prepared for training.

“Guys,” he yelled. “None of this attention out on the field. I am here in disguise. I don’t exist as Barney Merrick, just another old player.”

“And a little out of condition, old player,” quipped Steve Tipping.

“I may take a couple of weeks in training before I will be ready for the league side, so perhaps you Reserves players will be able to use me.”

“Only if you are good enough in training,” added a cheeky youngster.

“Well, let’s get out there and find out,” yelled Barney.

During the warm-up exercises, Barney struggled after five weeks of inactivity, including the nearly 5000 kilometres sitting in a car last week. He had tried to find the time to do some tone-up exercises but nowhere near enough. He was breathing hard after the laps and the sprints, but he stuck to his guns, quietly encouraged by passing team-mates. “Hang in there boss,” was a common comment.

His skills were still electrifying but he worried that he was just a little bit off, but rationalised that it helped his disguise as just another player. During match practice he kept a low profile, just working with the team as a sideline player. There would be time for intense involvement later.

After training, he and Zep quietly faded away from the ground, for him to shower and change later at the police station. They picked up a takeaway meal and a six-pack of beers for fluid and electrolytes replacement.

Relaxing later in the detective’s office, they discussed the current position.

“The AFP reckon it will be at least a week before they have assembled all the proof to be able to act,” Barney was disappointed. “They are going flat out in tandem with the State police forces in five states to analyse the trucking companies. The Federal Cyber Department is quietly digging deep into the records of both the Wong Corporation and those subsidiary trucking companies in each state. If they act too early, they may miss vital evidence.”

“With both Johnno and Franz Smidt as witnesses to various members of the Wong Syndicate we just can’t expose them in public trials,” stated Zep. “They will just have to be held in protective custody until the AFP do their thing.”

“So, we just wait,” groaned Barney.

Chapter 47

Under Attack

Wednesday, 8^th May

“An urgent message for all Geraldton Police,” came through the police band radio.

“Three trucks and two sedans belonging to the Fremantle Trucking Company are nearing Geraldton. We believe it is a hit squad. Wherever possible we planted GPS trackers on every vehicle that the company owned, to locate their nests. That convoy is converging on you. The three trucks are going through Walkaway heading towards Greenough Prison and the two cars are just south of the city heading into Geraldton. Arm yourselves.”

Zep pushed the panic button and issued the order “Under Attack, Defence Code Seventeen” for everyone to don full tactical armour and service weapons to defend the station. He called the prison to issue the same order to ensure the protection of the prison staff and their Wong witnesses, the likely targets for the trucks.

Two TRG men and two police constables, each armed with sniper rifles left the station by the rear door and headed into the building next door, into the Team Training Gym. They would man the street balcony and the two side windows overlooking the front door of the police station.

At the same time, he and Barney grabbed rifles, and headed for the second floor of the police station overlooking the front. Several other officers, armed in the same way, covered the back parking area and rear door from the ground floor and first floor windows.

The two cars drove peacefully into the front car park, manoeuvred into parking bays and paused a minute. At a signal from their leader, six men emerged, all armed with automatic weapons and rapidly converged on the front door of Geraldton Police Station, ready to burst in an create mayhem.

But the door was locked. That was totally unexpected. No police station should have a locked front door in the middle of a working day.

The full façade of the building was glassed, but bullet-proofed glass. This they found out when several tried to shoot their way through and were quickly stopped when dangerous ricochets pinged all about them. A speaker blared out from inside the portico where they stood. “Armed police. Surrender now or face forceful retaliation. Drop your weapons.”

The attackers looked about, looking for targets to vent their fury. They were not ready to give up without a fight. But from the second floor above them, four casement windows slightly opened, and four flash-bang grenades dropped in a ring around them. They had no chance. Within seconds all six attackers were writhing on the ground, incapacitated by the four almost simultaneous blinding lights and intense explosions. While they were covered by the four police snipers from the side building, and Barney and Zep and two officers from the windows of the second floor, they were disarmed and handcuffed by other officers.

#

At around the same time, one heavy haulage truck drove straight through the prison outer perimeter mesh fence beside the front gates and continued to smash through the inner fence. It was followed by the other two trucks which then disgorged four black suited men from each of the three trucks, all armed with automatic weapons. The twelve attackers converged towards the higher security isolation cell block near the main prison buildings. When a prison wall guard appeared with a rifle above the inner parapet one of the attackers loosed off several rounds which had the guard ducking for cover. In response three of his fellow guards rose up from around the walls and killed the shooter. That was the signal for further forceful retaliation from the guards. The attackers were stopped in their tracks when about 20 guns appeared from the walls, building windows and the sides of buildings all around them.

“Armed guards,” boomed through speakers all around them. “Do not move, or we will be forced to open fire with automatic weapons.”

They were stunned. They thought they had the element of surprise. They were caught in the open and the defenders were all behind protection. They dropped their weapons and just stood there.

#

“We knew that something was afoot when the vehicle convoy left Fremantle at dawn,” the senior officer from the AFP informed Barney and Zep over the speaker phone. “We had already GPS tagged many of their vehicles to try to establish their operations and their lairs.

We think they had found out about the failed assassination when one of our own cyber crew here was detected when he was digging into their accounts that financed the aeroplane hired for Max’s escape. Somehow, they followed up and found the GPS signature of the plane parked in a hanger in Geraldton. Then they knew that Franz Smidt was likely captured and imprisoned in either the police station or the Greenough Gaol. Some bigwig panicked and sent the hit squads to release him or eliminate him.

We knew then that we could not wait for full collection of evidence, so we sent the full tactical squads of AFP and local police to raid the Fremantle Trucking Company premises at the same time as we warned you. Melbourne and Sydney had to follow suit and go early too. The Wong Corporation suspect premises are being hit now. Trucks, cars, restaurants, shops and warehouses as well as the homes of senior personnel in both the restaurants and the trucking business are all being overpowered.

We won’t be able to interview all that we have in custody, so we will have to leave some of the prisoners for you to go through. Don’t be soft. They are evil men. If you find any that are Fremantle Trucking Company employees, have them transported to us. If they are just hired muscle, try to get as much from them, document it and we will come and get them later for trial down here.”

After the call ended, Barney turned to Zep and mournfully pleaded, “Now can we bring our families back home?”

#

The arrangements were made that afternoon. Everyone wanted to come home immediately. Barney and Zep felt they were now safe enough to move back into their respective houses, and both left early to do some grocery shopping, before going home.

Chapter 48

Relationships

Thursday, 9^th May

They were due on the morning flight from Perth, both Shirley and the two kids as well as Carleen.

Barney and Zep took leave for the full day to prepare for the homecomings and to welcome the arrivals. Both houses had been unoccupied since the 16^th of April. They had been left untouched for 23 days, except for the quick visits to collect clothes for their weeks’ vacation trip to Perth and the Southwest.

The houses had needed lots of attention. The fridges had stale milk, butter and cheeses, various sauces, and vegetables to throw out, and replace. Bedding was stripped and washed, to be replaced with fresh linen. Benches were wiped, floors cleaned, and the house aired. They both worked hard to make their respective homes liveable.

#

The airline passengers trooped into the large room that was the Geraldton passenger terminal. As soon as Carleen saw Barney waiting there for her, she rushed into his arms, hugging and kissing him. “God, how I’ve missed you,” she sighed.

“Me too,” he replied, embracing her tightly.

Shirley was a little more circumspect and it was a family group hug with Zep and the two children. She was not normally one to display her feelings publicly in case there were students present.

The two detective’s groups converged. It was a warm homecoming for everyone concerned. Jeannie, the youngest in the group, summed it all up when she loudly announced in the airport terminal, “It’s great to be home again, at last.”

After collecting luggage, they went their separate ways to their residences. In the drive home, Carleen asked Barney what had been going on in the last two weeks, since they separated after their Albany vacation. It was to be a long story, but Barney prefaced it by explaining that Carleen was not going to be able to print anything, because the two main prisoners were likely going into witness protection. Their stories must not be told.

#

Barney and Carleen parked in the driveway of their Mahomets home. At Barney’s suggestion they wandered across the road to the top of the sandhills to stare at the ocean below. The afternoon sea breeze had begun to ruffle the tops of the rolling waves. As they stood side by side watching a few kite-surfers dancing on the waves, Barney began, “Darling, these last two weeks without you have been hell. I have missed you so much.”

He turned to face her holding her in his arms. “I know my life is dangerous and I am not sure whether I can expect you to continue to be with me.”

Carleen looked into his eyes and had a curious expression on her face. She started to say something, but he shushed her.

“But I have to say this.”

He reached into his pocket, still looking into her eyes, and then knelt on one knee, and proposed, “Carleen. Will you marry me?”

Her reply was immediate, “Yes. I will marry you.”

After a long passionate kiss standing on the sandhill, they went home and enjoyed the moments as an engaged couple in the confines of the bedroom. Afterwards they began to discuss their future plans.

#

“Darling. Do you mind if I go to football training today,” Barney asked tentatively later that afternoon?

“Do I mind?” she strongly replied. “You have to go. You have missed too much these past three weeks that you are too toey. The team apparently needs you too. They lost to Greenough, won against Northampton and lost to Mullewa in the three weeks you weren’t there. I need to get out too, to look around and get re-acquainted with the town and the people too. I want to be there at training with you.”

Barney threw himself flat-out into the training session. He had tried to loosen up on the previous evening with a five-kilometre run along the beach, but it just wasn’t enough. With his teammates around him, it felt good to be involved in the thick of things. Through the early warm-up laps and sprints, he felt his tight muscles. During the match practice plays he was a little awkward when he misread some of the newly developed signals and plays, but he quickly adapted. He started to run free and easy. During a small break in the play, he waved lightly to Carleen on the sidelines,

Bill Armstrong commented, “I see that the boss is back on the boundary. I wondered who you were showing off for.”

Steve Tipping added, “Do you think she will be impressed?”

“Shut up Bill. You too Tipps,” was his reply. “I am allowed to show off in front of my brand-new fiancé.” He laughed at their shocked but pleased expressions as he jogged to the boundary for a few seconds.

Coach Brad Cocker addressed the squad at the end of the session. “We have Towns at Wonthella Park on Saturday. They are always hard to beat on their home turf, and it will be harder this year as they are playing confidently after three straight wins. But tonight you fellows were back into your best style, so I know you are ready to win. Can you add to that Barney?”

“This is the first time I have seen some of you youngsters since pre-season training,” said Barney. “I must say you have all come a long way in those five weeks. You older veterans have not lost any of your drive. You were impressive tonight working together as a team. Take that vigour to Wonthella on Saturday and we will show them what Railways is all about. And remember to have fun and enjoy your football.”

Chapter 49

District Courts

Friday, 10^th May

“All rise in the District Court of Western Australia. Judge James Kitto presiding.”

The All Angels were scattering everywhere. The entire leadership named in Johnno’s confession had been arrested, leaving the rest of the gang members to fend for themselves. Club colours were buried or burned to protect individual’s identities and tattoos were covered with long sleeves, high collars, and scarves. Some tattoos had even been overprinted with new dark designs.

The courts figured that it was safe enough to process Johnno through his trial in Geraldton while the gang was leaderless and disorganised. With a signed confession from the prisoner on Monday 6^th May, it would be just the Circuit Court Judge to hear the evidence and pronounce the sentence. But as part of his witness protection the courtroom was closed to the public or press.

The evidence showed Johnno had been the long-term courier and salesman for the bikie gang, distributing all manner of drugs, and other contraband goods like cigarettes and alcohol when they became available through smuggling. His ties with Dai Nguyen was known through his link to the three teenagers. He was the confirmed supplier for the Geraldton Tattoo Parlour and his confession included the outlets in Carnarvon and other small towns. His guilt was undeniable.

Barney then testified as to Johnno turning States Evidence, leading to the rounding up of a large proportion of the All Angels gang for drug distribution, money laundering and their other business enterprises. Zep then testified regarding the three teenagers’ actions in trying to trap the drug pushing bikie, and their subsequent beating, before achieving their goal. The videos were shown to the judge but only in his closed chambers. Zep added a statement that Johnno had actually intervened and stopped the sniper from killing his detective partner. On hearing all the evidence, the judge deliberated in his chambers for an hour and then delivered the sentence.

For his drug distribution, Johnno was given 15 years in prison. The judge then made it less by allowing a 12-year suspended sentence for turning States Evidence. He then added on another two years for the threats and physical assault on children, but this two-year sentence was suspended because he had interceded in the deadly attack on a detective. At the end of his sentencing, Johnno was handed back over to the Protective Custodians to arrange his three years in a prison somewhere safe, followed after that by witness protection with his girlfriend beside him.

#

A week later, with the AFP and local police rattling the cages of every employee of the Wong Corporation, including the trucking companies, Mad Max went to trial in the Geraldton District Court. He never admitted to shooting Barney or Zep, but he never denied it. Ping Yang was flown in from Fremantle Prison to give testimony on how she was paid to assist the sniper she knew as Mad Max when he shot Barney during the Geraldton Half Marathon. The arrangements were all done online so she could not name her employers. However her car was provided by the Fremantle Trucking Company, who also covered her Geraldton accommodation. Her online cash advance had been traced back to the accounts of the Melbourne Trucking Company.

Mad Max was also paid that same way. But the sniper had met and identified the Distribution Manager for the Wong Corporation Restaurant Chain when his contract was re-arranged. His written confession contained enough detail that enabled the AFP to put the screws on the Restaurant Chain, which ultimately steam-rolled right up to Jimmy Wong.

Mad Max’s description of the farm and the shooting range scooped up a large expanse of real estate that contributed more to ‘Proceeds of Crime’. The farm had been a large source of illegal gun purchases and gun licenses where applicants had been able to quote the farm in their application. These licences would now be reviewed and likely rescinded.

For his turning States Evidence, the trial of Mad Max was before a Judge without a jury. There was enough evidence to prove his guilt of four attempts to kill. This included the final attempt in the Halls Creek Hotel carpark. He was sentence to twenty years in prison; however, this sentence was reduced to ten years jail with ten years suspended for his part in identifying the Wong Corporation involvements. He would be deported once his jail time was finished, and his ten years suspended sentence would be invoked if he ever returned to Australia.

Chapter 50

Barney Returns

Saturday, 11^th May

Two thirty at Wonthella Football Oval. The struggling Railways were taking on the last years Premiers on Towns Football Club’s home ground. Some would say an impossible task, but the boys in blue were ready for the challenge against the mighty reds.

Barney led his team first onto the ground to the smattering of applause from the Railways supporters. The Towns team followed shortly after to a booming fanfare of the team song and loud cheering of the home supporters. The attendance of the locals had grown in number following the winning ways of the team.

From the first bounce Towns took complete control and quickly had three goals and a couple of points on the scoreboard before Railways had scored. With Barney’s urging the whole team knuckled down and the defence from both sides was strong for a time. Then Barney found himself on the forward boundary looking for one of his teammates nearer the goals. No dice, so he booted for goals from the boundary. The impossible shot sailed through for a goal.

Form the centre bouncedown, Towns immediately replied with their fourth goal. Again, the two teams went into strong defence with nobody able to score until in the last couple of minutes Railways consolidated the quarter with a goal.

At quarter time Barney wandered among the youngsters, encouraging them and saying “Switch on and own your own position. Think where you should be at all times. Be ready to sprint into the open when in attack and chase your opponent when defence is needed. Tackle, tackle, tackle.”

The second quarter began with a Railways goal but then Towns re-pressurised to kick away with two more. The score was 6 goals to 3 halfway into the quarter.

A bad ankle injury stopped the game while the player was carried from the ground. During this short break, Barney ran the circuit of players striking fist into palm and yelling, “Play hard with the team plan, play hard, play strong, play now.”

By half time Towns had kicked another two goals, but Railways scored four to be just a goal and a couple of points behind at the long break. Both teams were running fast, furious and free but Railways had the momentum, but were down at half time with the score 8-6 to 7-4.

The third quarter was a real grind. The defence was holding in both sides with few players given any space to move. The tackling was fierce, and the physical bumps and pushes were heavy. But Railways working together as a team managed to score three goals more than Towns single goal so were one and a half goals in front by the end of the quarter.

At three quarter time Coach Cocker could see they were all fired up, so offered just a few words of encouragement. “You all got yourselves into this position by guts, determination, and teamwork. Don’t let them back in.”

At the start of the last quarter, Railways kicked another goal. The way they were playing that seemed to be enough of a lead. They worked hard to hold that advantage over the strongest opposition in the competition. Towns began to fight back. One goal in mid-term. Then with five minutes to go, Towns scored again to make it just a three-point margin. If they could score one more goal, then the match was theirs.

Barney was doing all he could to keep his teammates fired up. With a minute to go, the ball was punched away from the Towns full forward to go out of bounds. In the scramble after the throw-in, the ball was kicked by Railways into the centre, but it was marked by a Towns player. He immediately kicked towards his tall forward leading up the ground. Through his well-developed football awareness, Barney converged into the same place. There was a loud clash of bodies, and when the melee was over, Barney was kneeling on the ground with the ball he had marked grasped strongly to his chest. The opposition forward had gone over the top of him and lay on the ground.

Groggily Barney stood and waited for the player to stand on his mark while he carefully surveyed the possibilities. There could not be much time remaining on the match clock, but he had to play the ball within the time allowed. He spotted Bill Armstrong alone out on the half way boundary, too far for a quick pass, but he gave it his best kick. The ball didn’t make the distance and bounced first, but Bill was able to get a foot to it and soccered it forward, but into the arms of a Towns player in the centre of the ground. This player knew he was too far out to score, so he took off running towards his goals. The crowd went silent holding their breath. The siren blared to end the match before he had reached scoring range and before he kicked the ball. Game over. Railways had won. Their fans went ballistic.

Barney was back and the team had won.

Chapter 51

Supreme Court of New South Wales

Monday, 13^th July

“Jimmy Wong, you are charged with illegal drugs production and trading, alcohol and tobacco trafficking, gun running, money laundering, smuggling, protection racket extortion, tax evasion, and the attempted murder of two policemen. During this trial we will give full details of all instances that we have been able to uncover, and we will add more as they are discovered. How do you plead?”

“Not Guilty,” murmured Jimmy Wong.

During the next week there was a continuous procession of witnesses from the Wong Corporation senior staff and the three main Trucking Company high ranking employees. They were all trying to shift the blame upstairs to lighten their own sentences. Most were guilty of some or most of the offences. The AFP and State Police squads expanded on many details to add to Jimmy Wong’s woes.

It had all begun with the couple of senior managers who were originally identified by Johnno and Mad Max, one in the trucking branch and the other in the restaurant chain. These two then turned State’s Evidence, naming names, and detailing the various establishments of the Wong Corporation that they were aware of. This expanded rapidly throughout three States and trickled around the rest of Australia. Restaurants and the supply vans for the restaurants were thoroughly searched, finding all manner of illegal materials. So, the companies’ books were seized, local bank accounts were examined, offshore holdings were scrutinised, and tax records were summoned. The trucks and cars for the trucking companies were stopped and searched. They revealed hidden compartments transporting just about everything illegal. The warehouses gave up the same.

Jimmy Wong was found guilty on all counts.

The Wong Corporation absolutely died that week. Jimmy Wong was given life in prison. His generals all got heavy sentences, although some were given reduced penalties for naming names. The Commonwealth Government seized a large proportion of the assets as ‘Proceeds of Crime’.

Barney and Zep were highly commended for their actions and awarded the Australian Police Medal for initially opening up the whole investigation, then continuing to actively involve themselves in policing after both being wounded and while still threatened by a sniper.

#

Some years after this, Dai Nguyen had completed his prison term, serving just four years before being paroled. He was a model prisoner, helping others to adjust to being away from loved ones with his calming voice and pleasant understanding nature. He became a strong anti-drug advocate in a place where drugs were rife.

When he was convicted, the courts were unable to confiscate his door business because he had been a minor drug seller of just small amounts to children. Drugs were a small amount during hard times for just a few months, but not his real income. His wooden door company built up over twenty years was not based on drug sales, but on his hard work.

During his imprisonment, his young apprentice Quang Vo, continued to run the store as his business associate. Within a short time, Dai was so pleased with his business expertise that he was made his business partner.

Quang carried on without him, employing firstly one and later a second tradesman to expand the factory capabilities. To continue the tradition of helping the Viet community, he took on two young Vietnamese as apprentices to the senior tradesmen. The recent mining boom generated a housing boom, and the wooden door business expanded from just wooden doors into all types of doors, to become quite a profitable enterprise.

Dai returned to the store and was quite happy to let Quang continue to run the business as he had been during his incarceration. He was successful. However Dai stipulated that all drugs were banned from all employed workers.

Dai never forgot his roots and worked within the Viet community to spread the word against drugs for children and adults alike.

Soon after Dai Nguyen took a cruise boat tour designed for twelve-passengers, that went 260 kilometres out from Broome to a popular marine park, to see the spectacular coral colours and the myriads of fish species. The charter was a luxury on-board stay for five nights. On one calm night, Dai floated a dozen candle lanterns from the cruise boat across the ocean in remembrance of his mother and sister. That cruise boat was out at the Rowley Shoals Marine Park.

TheEnd

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