Sinister Intent Page 4

  Paula Jones – or Cakes as she was fondly known due to her penchant for sweets – on the other hand, had not been so friendly. Lexie was still to figure out the older woman. At times she seemed pleasant enough, at other times she could be moody, intolerant and abrupt. Lexie had decided very quickly that it was probably best to give the unpredictable, cake-eating detective a wide berth for now.

  ‘Can you get on to the German Consulate, Lexie, before you do anything else?’ Brad asked. ‘Katia Johannson’s relatives need to be contacted ASAP.’

  He removed the pen resting behind his ear and scribbled onto a notepad as though he’d just remembered something he urgently needed to do.

  ‘Oh, and I’d put an intelligence report in regarding that girl you spoke to in the foyer . . . Max Croft’s daughter . . . what was her name?’ He didn’t wait for her to answer. ‘I’ll go get us a coffee; white, no sugar, right?’

  Lexie nodded, studying the photograph in the dead woman’s passport they’d discovered in her bedroom. Katia Johannson had only been thirty years old. She was petite, with short blonde hair and her big blue eyes were framed by long dark lashes. She had been a very attractive young woman with her whole life before her.

  What a waste, Lexie thought sadly.

  She did some checks on the computer and then googled the number for the German Consulate. Reaching for the phone, she was overwhelmed by a sense of guilty relief that she wouldn’t be the one to inform the girl’s poor parents she would not coming home – ever. Some unfortunate German police officer would be dealt that gruesome task. She didn’t envy them.

  Having done her fair share of death-knocks, Lexie could well imagine Katia’s family’s reaction – the look of shock on their faces, the denial and despair in their eyes, their tortured cries of agony and grief. All emotions she could easily identify with.

  Don’t think about it!

  Lexie dialled the number for the consulate. She was instantly placed on hold and subjected to elevator music. She was doodling on the notepad in front of her when Detective Senior Constable Sean Brown’s voice cut over the noise in her ear.

  ‘Come on, give it to me before I take you down.’

  Lexie looked up. Across the room, two of her boyish colleagues were sparring playfully around their desks. Since they were the only three in the office at present, the two young guys were clearly taking advantage of their freedom and the fact there were no supervisors around to quash their antics.

  Brown – better known as Batman due to his obsession for carrying lifesaving gadgets about his person at all times – struck out an air punch that went a little too close to Dave Mansfield’s jaw.

  Mansfield – or Lurch – who stretched to two metres and, even with a concerning addiction to McDonald’s, was built like a beanpole, screamed like a girl.

  ‘Now you’ve done it, Batman. You’re gone!’

  Like most police stations, nearly everyone had a nickname, whether they liked it or not. Usually these nicknames were derived from a character trait, their appearance, or a shortened, or lengthened, version of their name. Lexie hadn’t been at the station long enough to have acquired her own special tag as yet, but she had no doubt that it was only a matter of time.

  Batman cried out as Lurch clobbered him around the ears.

  ‘He’s hurting me, Lexie. Help me, help me,’ he whimpered.

  Lexie laughed as they began to wrestle. Two grown men acting like boys in perfectly pressed suits looked so ridiculous it was funny. When their heads accidentally collided and they both simultaneously laughed and cried out in pain, Lexie broke into a fit of giggles.

  Watching them reminded her of the play-fights she used to have with her brother growing up. Suddenly, she felt light-headed. Don’t think about it, but it was too late. Her chest was already constricting. It felt as though she had too much air trapped in her lungs that couldn’t get out. Lurch and Batman blurred. Closing her eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning, she felt herself slipping backwards.

  She was in her parents’ lounge room. Two uniformed officers were talking to her mother. A noise that sounded like the cry of a wounded animal emanated from her mouth and echoed off the walls of the house. One of the officers caught her mother as she collapsed like a wilting flower into his arms, his face as horrified as her own.

  A pain so real pierced through her chest. She blinked in quick succession to bring herself back to the present, angry at the mind’s cruel ability to toss up painful flecks of the past when you least expected it. Did she really need to be reminded of the pain she’d endured, the anguish her whole family had suffered? It wasn’t like she’d ever forget.

  A dial tone was now humming in her ear. The consulate had kept her on hold for – she glanced at the wall clock – eight minutes and then cut her off. She sighed in frustration and thumped the phone down.

  ‘Lexie, help me; Lurch is trying to kill me,’ Batman squealed, cowering and wrapping his arms around his head protectively.

  Lexie shook her head at them. Where was Brad with her coffee? Without thinking or even realising what she was doing, she reached for the cleaning products stored in the bottom drawer of her desk. Sweeping the array of papers into a pile and placing them in her tray, she cleared the surface of her desk before spraying it with multi-purpose cleaner. Wiping it clean with paper towelling, she ensured no germs escaped her quick, precise swipes.

  Lexie was aware her behaviour was borderline obsessive compulsive, but she didn’t care. Except for the frequent nightmares, the occasional panic attack and the fact she didn’t particularly like small spaces – not claustrophobic, just not comfortable in lifts or anything closed in – she was completely normal.

  Who are you trying to kid?

  ‘You want to clean mine when you’re finished, Lexie?’ Batman grinned suggestively while still throwing air swings at Lurch.

  She rolled her eyes. The desk was now perfectly clean and meticulously tidy, so why did she still feel agitated? Caffeine would help, she decided. Jumping out of her chair, she headed towards the meal room to investigate why Brad was taking so long to make a lousy cup of coffee.

  At the instant Lexie was exiting the office, Josh Harrison came rushing in. To avoid a certain crash, they both veered to the side and jolted to a sudden stop, just in time to prevent their bodies colliding. Unbalanced, Lexie stumbled slightly, then gasped in surprise as two strong arms shot out and grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

  ‘Sorry,’ Josh muttered breathlessly, giving her a lopsided smile. ‘That was my fault.’

  The butterflies Lexie often got around him took off and flew around her stomach. ‘No, that’s okay.’ She let out a nervous laugh.

  Josh’s eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary before his gaze flicked around the office behind her. Dropping his arms, he moved past her without another word.

  Batman and Lurch stopped what they were doing immediately and glanced guiltily towards their superior.

  Lexie turned, curious to see how Detective Josh Harrison was going to handle the situation. Would the seriously intense detective chastise his subordinates for their immaturity and unprofessionalism? Or would he take it for what it was; boys being boys, having a bit of harmless fun, goofing off when they thought they could get away with it.

  ‘I saw what you were doing, guys,’ Josh said firmly. ‘How about you both settle down and stop trying to impress the new girl.’

  He walked behind Batman and Lurch, playfully slapping them both in the back of the head. ‘If you need some work to do . . .’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Lurch assured him. ‘I’ve got stuff to do.’ He gave Batman a shove towards his desk and then quickly sat down at his own.

  Josh turned towards Lexie and shrugged. ‘Boys; what do you do with them?’

  Lexie smiled, pleasantly surprised at his ability to demonstrate authority and reprimand without causing embarrassment. She was about to leave the room again when Josh called out. ‘You know about the search warrant tomor
row?’

  Lexie nodded in response.

  ‘Hope you’re not scared of big bad bikies, Lexie,’ Batman teased. ‘Cause you’re going to meet a few tomorrow.’

  The butterflies in her stomach died, replaced instead with what felt like a slab of cement. Batman was only playing with her, she knew that; taunting her for a reaction. However, his comment was too close to the mark, and she worried the walls of her composure were about to crumble.

  Lexie turned back towards the door. Suppressing the urge to bolt, she called over her shoulder, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  As she made a hasty escape she could only hope her voice sounded decidedly more confident than she felt.

  CHAPTER 4

  WEDNESDAY

  They met briefly at the end of a quiet suburban street in the beachside suburb of Bronte for a quick consultation, before converging on their target premises.

  ‘Nice place,’ Brad muttered sarcastically, dabbing a handkerchief across his already sweaty forehead. ‘Not threatening at all.’

  It was 7.30 am and already hot as Lexie stood, staring at the Devil’s Guardians clubhouse in stunned disbelief. A long time ago it might once have been a quaint, neat little cottage, but now . . . Weeds had sprung up, consuming the front yard and the path to the front door was a trampled mess of dead grass and leaves. A wooden fence lay flat on the ground on one side of the house. Rusted guttering hung dangerously from the roof. Part of the front window had been replaced by a graffiti-covered board proclaiming ‘pigs suck’, and a filthy lounge sat in the corner of the front verandah with springs protruding from its base. The place was totally captivating – for all the wrong reasons.

  Even though Brad had warned her earlier that the place was a dump, she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Apparently, the club had recently fallen on hard times due to supposed mismanagement of funds by the president, and because of this the astronomical rents in the eastern suburbs had forced them to downgrade from their previous clubhouse. This new place was apparently only temporary. It also doubled as the residence of the sergeant-at-arms and his girlfriend.

  ‘Imagine living in there,’ Sue Field commented, coming up behind her.

  With Lexie’s cleaning obsession there was no way. ‘No thanks,’ she replied, ignoring the violent pounding of her heart. She had to get over this ridiculous fear of everything involving bikies.

  Not all bikies are bad, she told herself. Says who?, retorted another voice in her head.

  Lexie’s hand went to her waist and found the holster attached to her belt. Gripping the butt of her Glock pistol she pushed down, checking it was secure, and waited for its power to infuse her with a sense of invincibility. Nothing happened.

  ‘Okay, everyone ready?’ Josh asked.

  There was a chorus of mumbled replies as everyone moved off.

  The video recorder that hung from Lexie’s shoulder knocked against her left hip as she walked. Her task for today’s operation was to record the execution of the search warrant from beginning to end. This was standard procedure. The recording could later be used in court to prove any evidence found on the premises was in fact discovered during the search and not planted. It served as an insurance policy to both police and the alleged offender, testimony to professional conduct, and it cut down allegations of misbehaviour or conspiracy theories regarding wrongful treatment or being ‘loaded up’. It was hard to argue with visible proof!

  ‘You all right?’ Brad asked, coming up beside her.

  Lexie sighed. She appreciated her partner looking out for her but this was the third time he’d asked. She didn’t want him, or anyone, thinking she needed or wanted protecting.

  ‘Stop asking. I’m fine.’

  Brad pretended to cringe. ‘Okay, let’s move.’

  The team of eight detectives soundlessly assumed their positions as instructed, covering all possible escape routes around the perimeter of the property. Four officers, Cakes, Batman, Lurch and Craig Osborne (aka Ossie) made their way around the side, through the broken gate, to the back of the premises. Lexie followed Josh, Brad and Sue, climbing the three broken cement steps onto the dilapidated porch that ran the width of the house. As ordered, she stopped there behind Josh.

  Nervous anticipation twisted her stomach. Nothing will go wrong, she told herself. Handle it! However, it seemed no amount of internal tough talk could eradicate her sense of dread. Her sixth sense was working overtime, telling her . . . telling her what? That she was scared? No, she assured herself. It was just her demons running riot, playing havoc with her insecurities.

  Distracting herself, Lexie concentrated on Josh Harrison’s back. Standing directly behind him it was impossible to ignore the way his white T-shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and clung to his muscular biceps. Lexie gave herself a mental kick. He turned suddenly, as if he’d felt her eyes burn through his skin. She glanced away but could still feel his gaze flick over her.

  He’s just checking everyone’s in place, you idiot.

  Of course that was what he was doing. Harrison was running this operation. That’s why he was glancing around; assessing, evaluating, compiling a mental risk assessment, no doubt. Watching his movements, she could almost hear his brain ticking over. When he appeared satisfied they were ready, that everyone was in their designated positions, he gave Brad the nod. Taking his cue, her partner slammed his considerable knuckles against the wooden door, knocking loudly before stepping aside, out of blasting range.

  ‘Start recording, Lexie,’ Harrison told her quietly.

  Obeying instructions, she pressed the record button and pointed the camera towards the door. She willed her hand to remain steady.

  Almost instantly, without warning, the front door flew open. A pregnant female appeared before them, rubbing bloodshot eyes. It took her only a moment to realise what was happening. Her expression turned to one of alarm as she took in the four detectives standing before her and her stance became instantly hostile; hands flew to narrow hips on either side of her protruding belly. Her top lip curled back exposing crooked teeth and her face screwed up, causing the teardrop tattoo just under her left eye to disappear.

  ‘Oh shit! Reeex!’ the girl screeched, her high-pitched whine stabbing Lexie’s ears.

  The girl attempted to slam the door shut. The sudden movement almost caused her generous breasts to spill out the sides of her skimpy singlet top. The door hit Brad’s foot wedged in the doorway and rebounded, almost striking her in the face. She shot him a filthy look.

  ‘Police!’ Brad flashed his badge so close to her face it was in danger of becoming imprinted. ‘We have a search warrant to enter . . .’

  A thunderous voice yelled from inside the house interrupting his words.

  ‘What the fuck’s going on?’

  An invisible force punched at Lexie’s heart and she stood, paralysed, as the menacing shape of a giant bikie filled the door-frame. His entire being radiated aggression. Every instinct Lexie possessed screamed at her to flee, to retreat from the intense fear that threatened to overcome her. Thankfully, the logical side of her brain realised that to do so would be committing certain career suicide. This thought was the only thing that kept her feet rooted to the spot.

  It’s not him. It’s not him.

  She sucked in a deep breath, pointed the video camera in the direction of the angry bikie and forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

  Josh stepped forward. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Harrison from Bondi Junction detectives’ office. We are here to conduct a search of these premises.’ He held up the search warrant. ‘You are Rex Donaldson, is that right?’

  ‘You know I am,’ he growled, eyeing Josh defiantly.

  Lexie examined him through the display screen. There was no doubt about it! This Rex Donaldson, standing right in front of her, was very much like Amitt Vincent, the 180 centimetre wall of solid muscle from the Revolutionaries, the crazed bikie who had almost killed her!

  They had similar featur
es, the same stereotypical biker look: the long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, the greying beard and bushy moustache concealing the top lip, the black eyes and weatherbeaten skin plastered with tattoos. From where she was standing the only notable difference between the two men was that Donaldson was much bigger; a moving mountain in fact. He had to be at least one hundred and ninety-five centimetres, and around one hundred and forty kilos plus. And although he didn’t look particularly fit, Lexie guessed he could kill with a punch. He was without a doubt the most intimidating man she’d ever seen – and that was saying something.

  Josh continued for the camera, ‘You are the sergeant-at-arms of the Devil’s Guardians Outlaw Motorcycle Gang. Is that correct?’

  The bikie grunted his response, nodding his head, but looked clearly unimpressed.

  Lexie watched Josh hand Donaldson the occupier’s notice of the warrant and then listened, observing his technique, as he clearly and proficiently explained the nature of their business.

  ‘This is police harassment!’ Rex bellowed, turning his head towards the camera. ‘It’s a fucking fishing expedition. You know we’ve got nothing illegal in here.’

  Narrowed eyes drilled into her through the display screen and sent chills down her back. Breathe, hold it together. She could feel her hand beginning to tremble. The camera started to shake.

  ‘What’s with the camera? Why the fuck are you filming me?’ Donaldson yelled.

  ‘I was just getting to that,’ Josh said quickly. ‘It’s standard procedure to record the execution of a search warrant. This is for both our protection – ’

  Josh didn’t get to finish his sentence. Rex Donaldson suddenly charged forward, knocking Brad and Josh out of his way. It happened so fast. Lexie heard shouts, then, through the display screen she saw the bikie advance towards her. She froze, her grip instinctively tightening around the camera as he grabbed at it.