Dark City Blue: A Tom Bishop Rampage Read Free

adjusted to the darkness. He saw through the two-way mirror and into the interrogation room. The animal Ellison had tussled with earlier sat cuffed at the table. He had a hard face and an even harder looking bald head covered with dents from previous bad decisions. Track marks led up his neck along a collapsed vein and faded around the same place that the scabs on his face began.
    ‘Haven’t been able to shut him up,’ Wilson said. ‘Nothing but yak, yak, fucking yak.’ He picked up the telephone and told whoever answered that they were ready.
    Ellison entered the interrogation room. At twenty-nine she was young to be a detective and probably lied to herself that the promotion was due to hard work rather than the VPD trying to fill a quota. She had six brothers, all cops, and no social life. Bishop knew she was smart; the heavy make-up and clothes led most people to believe otherwise.
    She skolled a can of Red Bull and stared the junkie down.
    His eyes had trouble focusing. ‘If I rat, this going to shave any jail?’
    ‘If it pans out, I’ll put in a word,’ Ellison said.
    The junkie sized up his options and realised that he didn’t have any.
    ‘What do they call you?’
    ‘Roach.’ Ellison uncuffed him. ‘You got a smoke?’
    She tossed him a pack. His cracked lips hooked onto one and pulled it from the deck. ‘Whatcha wanna know?’ he said as he lit up.
    ‘Tell me about this Justice.’
    Roach slumped in his chair. ‘Why do you want to know about him?’ he said quietly. ‘I know other things. Lots of other things. I can tell you about those.’
    Ellison took a seat. ‘I don’t want to know about those. I want to know about Justice.’
    Roach, scared, chewed a dirty nail. ‘He leads a network of bent coppers.’ His eyes dipped to the floor, disappointed for having said the words.
    ‘Who is he?’
    ‘Nobody knows. All you hear is whispers and shit talk. Somebody, somewhere disappears. Somebody gets knocked. Nobody ever says nothing.’
    ‘How did he get to you?’
    Roach dragged on his cigarette. ‘Last week, I’m out and about with my boy Beanzie drinking, cruising for cunt. Good times, y’know? Then he gets a call and he’s all fidgety, like he’s got to score up, but he don’t, cos he’s already high as all fuck. Says he’s gots to go do this thing. Wants me to go for support or backup or some fuckin’ shit.’
    ‘What’s Beanzie do?’
    ‘Big dicks, little dicks, clean dicks, put a hole in the world dicks. You want a gun that’ll do any of the above, Beanzie’s your man.’
    Ellison waved her hand for Roach to move on.
    ‘We headed out of the city.’
    ‘Where to?’
    ‘Out of the city, I dunno; up bush. We roll up on this joint and Beanzie’s getting all nervous and shit like a little bitch, so I tell him to man the fuck up.’
    ‘Did he?’
    ‘After I slapped him, he did. We knocks on this door and this real trained-up looking guy opens. Now, I was only there for a few minutes, but I could see that these guys were definitely the don’t-fuck-around types. They didn’t say much, but they didn’t need to. Their black eyes did all the talking.’
    ‘How many?’
    ‘Three or four.’
    ‘Was it three or was it four?’
    ‘Do I look like a mathematician?’
    ‘Alright, go on.’
    Roach flicked his cigarette to the other side of the room and let the smoke escape his nostrils. ‘One of them went to Beanzie’s car and got the guns.’
    ‘What kind of guns?’
    ‘I didn’t look.’
    ‘If you had to guess?’
    ‘M16s.’
    ‘That’s a hell of a specific guess.’
    Roach looked around. Paranoid. ‘That’s not all. They had maps. On the walls in the place, they had maps, blueprints, timetables and shit. They’re planning a robbery.’ Roach leant back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘Six AM tomorrow morning. Justice will strike.’ He was pretty pleased with himself. 'So what about my jail?’
    ‘What about it?’
    ‘This shit’s going