‘Don’t worry. This is not your everyday moment.’ Newton passed over a Glock pistol holstered in a Velcro strap. He lifted Mahoney’s shirt and fastened it just above the belt line where the weapon sat flush against the detective’s lower vertebra.

  ‘Leave your shirt loose at the back and it’s almost impossible to see. Walk as normally as you can. The safety is off so it’s pull and shoot.’ Newton smiled. ‘The barrel’s facing down, so any accidental discharge will be through the floor. Got it?’

  A slow nod. ‘What if he checks?’

  ‘He has to get close to do that, so he won’t. Now, place a call to my mobile.’

  Mahoney did as he was told, although it felt idiotic calling a man six inches away.

  ‘Put yours on speaker too and set it to full volume. I’ll be able to hear what’s happening. Okay?’

  ‘Yep, I think so.’

  ‘You know so.’ There was an edge to his voice. ‘Breathe, be calm. You’re fine with this, believe me. Now, text him from the front gate. I’ll be here with a clear line to the front door.’

  Mahoney took the few steps to the gate and texted ‘I’m here.’

  He received a reply quickly: ‘Front door is ajar. Walk down the passage. No stuffing about.’

  Mahoney breathed deep; he was about to glance back to Newton but stopped himself. If he was being observed, that would be a giveaway. He went up the steps to the front porch. He gave the wooden door a tentative push; it gave easily and swung into the hallway wall with a slight thud. He edged his head forward, half expecting a projectile. At the far end of the carpet runner was a man clad in athletic gear: blue Nike singlet, grey shorts and runners on his feet. He was leering at Mahoney and flicking the lighter in his hand on and off.

  ‘Welcome, Inspector. Do you like the Johnnys? Great band from the past.’

  Mahoney stepped inside and started down the hallway; he had not expected a round of music trivia.

  ‘Something about about the greenback dollar?’

  ‘Nice work.’ Fowler’s left hand waved Mahoney forward. ‘Don’t be shy.’

  The detective entered a large open kitchen-diner and lounge space. Fowler was still several metres away, leaning back against the door frame at the rear wall. To his left, Mahoney saw his constable strapped in a lounge chair with his mouth gaffer taped. Gibson raised his eyebrows and flicked his eyes down to the floor where a long strip of soaked cloth lay across a carpet stained dark with what smelled like petrol.

  In the time that Mahoney’s appraising glance took, a small pistol materialised in Fowler’s left hand. He pointed it across his midriff and straight at the captive.

  ‘Don’t step forward, Johnny. You don’t mind me calling you that, do you?’

  ‘Not fussed. Least of my concerns at present.’

  ‘Quite right. Well, you know your eighties bands. My favourite song is very, ah, pertinent. There’s gonna be a showdown right here. Quite apt in the circumstances.’

  ‘If you go for gallows humour, yeah.’

  ‘Oh, I do. And there’ll be a winner. If you even lean forward, I’ll plug the kid. He’s gone the moment you lunge. Going to risk it?’

  ‘No. I don’t really want to lose him.’

  ‘The future, eh? Very good.’ The gun arced around a quarter turn. ‘Perhaps you then. Nobody’s indispensable.’

  ‘Quite right. Mind you, I have come at your bequest so that could be construed as bad manners.’

  Fowler let out a throaty laugh. ‘You two are ballsy buggers. I’ll give you that.’ Another flick of the lighter. ‘Here’s the deal. I’ll be exiting through this door. This gun dictates that there’ll be no heroics from you. Actually, strike that from the record. There might be. As you can sense from the atmosphere, this room is one big petrol bomb. If I ignite it, your blood nut is very rapidly going to be toast. I exit stage left, not pursued by a bear. You get to save yourselves as best you can from horrendous burns. You get to live, I guess, but what sort of life, really?’

  ‘Shitty like yours.’

  ‘Bravo, Johnny. Attitude with a capital A. You’re a judge now.’

  ‘Just a bloke trying to figure what the grand scheme is.’

  ‘The grand scheme is fucked. The rich get richer, the poor get the picture. Good start in life and you’re cruising the highway. Bad start and you’re stuck in the alleys. It’s simple really.’

  ‘Rubbish. You’ve done alright. Solid career. Friends from there who miss you. If nothing else, the run-around you’ve given us proves you’re a smart guy.’

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’

  ‘Just to the point where I can understand your motivation.’

  Fowler exhaled slowly. ‘My own chaos theory. At the heart of all we do is futility. We live, we die. Why play favourites? Why reward the lucky ones? Why not just put all the money and resources into giving everyone a fair go?’

  ‘Proper socialism.’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon so.’

  ‘But this is a rather extreme method of enacting your manifesto.’

  ‘The ballot box doesn’t work. It’s all a charade. History shows that winners are grinners and the rest get butt-fucked. End of story.’

  ‘But the winners you’ve selected are mostly helping others.’ Mahoney gestured towards Gibson. ‘This guy, for instance. Sure, he sort of fits your scheme, but he is the last person I’d envisage as part of the privileged elite. He doesn’t have to go.’

  ‘Which is why you’ll get a chance to save him.’ Another flick of the lighter. ‘And he’s not such a prick after all. We had a quick chat while you were getting here. I whipped the tape off so the boy could provide a neat precis of the investigation. You got lucky with the van, you’d have to agree.’

  ‘I think so. I was hoping we’d wind things up a tad differently, but them’s the breaks.’

  ‘Yes, they are.’ A frown creased Fowler’s brow. ‘I’m just thinking you’re a bit too cool, Johnny, so I’m going to curtail our discussion in case the A-team suddenly appear.’

  Fowler twisted his foot to swing the rear door open. He crabbed sideways and crouched down on his haunches. His eyes and weapon were on Mahoney the whole time.

  ‘Come on, Montag. Surely there’s another way?’

  Fowler lifted his cold eyes to Mahoney and waggled his head as if weighing the options.

  ‘Nah. We’ve reached the …’

  Whatever word was coming next was obliterated by Fowler’s skull exploding. A second bullet whistled into his back pitching him forward.

  Mahoney froze. They heard rapid footfall up the corridor before Newton brushed past with his pistol drawn. He halted a few feet short of the downed man then spoke tersely into his walkie-talkie.

  ‘Target down. Hold fire. Ground crew approach with caution.’

  A series of voices acknowledged him. The cavalry was coming on site. Newton stepped forward and bent to feel for a pulse in the neck. He eased himself up and turned to Mahoney.

  ‘You can breathe now, cobber. Untether your guy. I’ll check this balcony.’

  Mahoney had to will his legs to move the six steps to Gibson. He drew the tape off his constable’s face and Gibson sucked greedily on the air.

  ‘Thanks, boss. I guess this is where I thank God you’re here.’

  ‘Just think it for the moment.’ Mahoney nodded to the kitchenette. ‘Scissors?’

  ‘Top drawer. Wiltshire Staysharp knife in there as well.’ He winced. ‘Quickly if you can. My hammy’s cramping.’

  Mahoney was back in a flash. He sheared the tape around the ankles first and bobbed sideways as Gibson extended his left leg. After a quick cut to the wrist restraints, he bent forward to lift his constable upright, propping Gibson’s right arm around his own shoulder to hold him steady. Newton was back inside while two of his men waited on the deck.

  ‘All clear. I’ll contact SOCO, and I reckon we’ll go with an ambulance for your man.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’ Gibson made to step forward and stumbled.

  ‘At the very least you’ll need to be assessed for shock. And a lie-down in fresh pyjamas could be just the ticket.’ Newton stared purposefully at the stain on Gibson’s crotch.

  Bending his head, Gibson registered the darker patch at his groin and smiled gingerly. ‘Least I didn’t crap myself. That’s something.’

  Mahoney leaned on the fence at the front of Gibson’s apartment block and stared up towards the cliff face of Mount Wellington—kunyani as it was known to the original dwellers of the island. The aborigines had lived here for thousands of years and the mountain had existed for aeons, silently witnessing the evolution of organic life. This is what we’ve come to, thought Mahoney: a society in which any individual at odds with whatever social contract we’ve cobbled together will try to dismantle it. Mahoney had read a bit about Hobbes and Locke without fully comprehending their ideas—something or other about the legitimacy of government—but what now chimed clearly in his head was a line from a school drama text: ‘civil blood makes civil hands unclean’. The Bard? Probably. That guy understood a thing or two about the operation of power and the lengths a wrecker would go to wield it. Was this what Fowler represented? A dissident hellbent on usurping authority, or merely a dangerous nutter who didn’t like the rules? That would surely play out in the media in the coming days.

  ‘Inspector, you look philosophical.’ Rex Chambers interrupted Mahoney’s thoughts, his attire fit for a job interview: charcoal grey three-piece suit, clubland tie and a parade ground shine to his shoes.

  ‘Sergeant Chambers, I thought …’

  ‘… I was venturing to sunnier climes? I may be, but at present I’m still part of Professional Standards as we are now titled. An initiative of the new Commissioner. PS, I like to call it. The extra bit that needs including at the end.’

  ‘Nicely put. And you’ve been landed with this? Good luck. It’s multi-layered.’

  ‘No doubt. From what I can gather it’s the Armed Response Unit side of the operation that will be the most scrutinised. I’m sure you appreciate that any weapon discharge by an officer must be reviewed very carefully.’

  ‘Of course. Just as with Dunalley a few years back.’

  ‘Precisely.’ Chambers reached into his jacket pocket. ‘Smoke?’

  Mahoney grimaced. ‘In the circumstances, I might pass thanks. Anything to do with a lighter will give me the shakes.’

  The cigarettes were repocketed. ‘Understood. My bad. Is Gibson okay?’

  ‘He seems to be. The ambulance took him down to the hospital half an hour ago. The initial relief will possibly morph into delayed shock. I doubt you’ll be able to speak to him real soon.’

  ‘It’ll be a tale worth hearing, but it can wait. Initially it’s Newton and his team who are the focus.’

  ‘They were brilliant. They saved our lives.’

  Chambers stepped back and held up a palm. ‘Yes, they did. But I have to shine a light on the facts and be clinical.’

  Chambers would draw the ire of the squad, but that was his unen­viable task. ‘Sorry, you’re right. When would you like to get my version?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, but not first thing. Go home tonight. Sleep. You’re alive and that’s the bottom line.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ As Mahoney moved to walk off, a thought struck him. ‘How will you deal with Kate?’

  Chambers shrugged. ‘Apologise first off, then explain what I was really trying to say.’

  Mahoney looked confused. ‘Please explain.’

  ‘Oh, right. You were referring to the official conduct interview. I got the wrong end of the stick.’

  ‘Looks like it, yeah. I don’t want to pry into your private life.’

  Chambers decided to light up a cigarette anyway. ‘When I was talking about the “other side” to Kate, she got completely the wrong idea. I only found that out later. I was talking about work.’ He took another measured draw. ‘My role can be the absolute pits. The crims may hate you, but your colleagues, probably to a man, respect you. Pretty much everyone loathes me. I wear this suit, but there’s no armour to shield the sneers and the backlash.’

  ‘It’s that bad?’

  ‘Trust me, it’s worse. Whenever I turn up, it’s like I’ve laid out a smorgasbord of shit sandwiches, but someone’s got to do it. I believe it’s necessary. I know you, and a few others, do as well. But it wears you down, grinds you into the dirt. Lately, I’ve come to see it’s not a holiday I need but a proper change.

  ‘But Sydney?’

  ‘Oh, that? I was simply floating a thought bubble. Winter’s coming and I’ve decided I’m definitely leaving this department. I thought a few months up there could be a possibility. The “other side” stuff was about being a civilian for a while. I was thinking of doing a semester of study, maybe drama.’ A double-puff to re-invigorate the dying cigarette. If Kate doesn’t know I’m a confident and committed heterosexual by now, she’s not the whizz-bang detective we all think she is.’

  Mahoney had to laugh at the theatrical delivery. ‘You should tell her.’

  ‘John, once this is concluded I’m going to damned well show her.’

  ‘Too much information.’

  ‘By the way, you might want to think about getting some mixed doubles on with your good lady.’

  ‘How do you …’

  ‘… know that? One thing I will miss about this job is reading between the lines of a report.’

  

  ‘And you did everything you could to diffuse the situation?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Rex. You’ve got the bloody recording.’ It was a clear attempt by Claire Midson, the Police Federation representative, to draw proceedings to a close, but Chambers sat stony-faced.

  ‘Sergeant Chambers, I appreciate your aim for transparency. We both do. But that tone does sound a touch judgemental,’ she continued.

  Mahoney didn’t want her here, but he knew it was the smoothest way through the hoops. A union official on hand was a designated part of the rigmarole, and it was best to sit quietly and let the process take its due course.

  Chambers tapped his pen on the desk. ‘Point taken. I’m merely double-checking the facts of the incident. Detective Inspector Mahoney was a significant participant in the operation. Transcripts and recordings are all well and good, but my report will ring hollow if I don’t get across the nuances.’

  Mahoney was about to let him know that a high velocity bullet exploding a man’s skull was hardly nuanced, but he decided to let it ride.

  They spent the next half an hour dissecting the events of the day before. Mahoney gave background to the raid and his observations of the Response Unit’s actions. Without being obstructive, he kept it objective. It was not his place to judge the operational strategy of that unit—at least, not officially; privately, he remained in awe of the way they’d dealt with the crisis.

  Chambers, for his part, proceeded methodically through the timeline. ‘Now, the decision to fire on the suspect. Who took that?’

  ‘Newton had the final say, but I gave the signal.’

  ‘A pre-arranged signal?’

  ‘Yes. Just before I went in, Newton gave me a code word to use if the situation went tits-up.’

  Chambers took notes and adopted a formal tone. ‘DI Mahoney and Inspector Newton agreed upon a specific signal to employ in the event the situation became irredeemably critical.’

  Mahoney allowed himself to smile. ‘Yes, that covers it.’

  ‘The code word was Montag?’

  ‘Yes. I’d called the suspect that in an earlier phone conversation. Newton deemed it sufficiently clear and distinguishable. If I called that out, it was time for the cavalry.’

  ‘And they arrived.’ Chambers narrowed his gaze to his notepad. ‘Just to check, Fowler was right on the verge of lighting the room up?’

  ‘Yep, Gibson was strapped in and Fowler had a pistol trained on me so I couldn’t jump him. As the recording should make clear, I’d tried to talk him round.’

  ‘And he was having none of it?’

  ‘Correct. No matter what I tried, his intention was to exit in an inferno.’

  ‘Could you possibly have incited him?’

  Mahoney pictured the moment. ‘No, I’m certain. What triggered him was the realisation that it was unlikely to be just little old me on the scene.’

  ‘He heard something, sensed something?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but perhaps in my voice. The situation was precarious but I felt, deep down, that Newton and the others had my back.’ Mahoney pointed to his phone. ‘You can’t see it, obviously, but you can hear in Fowler’s last words that he’s twigged something is going on.’

  ‘You believe there was no viable alternative to calling the crucial alert?’

  ‘Absolutely. It wasn’t because Fowler was trying to escape, but because he was about to ignite the room. It would have gone up with me and Gibson in it. David would have been toast.’

  ‘That sounds fair.’ Chambers sat back in his chair and rolled his shoulders. ‘The rest I know. The eagle-eyed boys did what they’re trained for. It sounds like storming the flat was too risky, so the ultimate order was executed. Messy, but it had to be done. Is there anything you wish to add?’

  ‘No, not really. I wish we’d apprehended Fowler, but he determined it was not to be.’

  Chambers swivelled his gaze. ‘Claire, anything for the record?’

  She declined and Chambers jabbed the red button on the recording device.

  ‘So, what’s your next move, Rex?’ Claire Midson asked.

  ‘I can’t release the determination of a PS investigation that is not yet completed.’

  ‘Not that. I’m confident this matter has been dealt with judiciously. I meant what’s your future? You’d be an asset to the Federation.’

  ‘Gamekeeper turned poacher?’ All three smiled. ‘Thanks, but no thanks. Once this report is submitted, I’m out of here.’