Bright City Old Wounds by Graham Storrs

Author:Graham Storrs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, crime, murder, detective, australia, brisbane, private investigator, special forces, past crimes, buddy cop
Publisher: Graham Storrs

* * * *

We left the motorway and headed East through the apartment blocks and canal developments until we hit the main drag and turned North, running parallel with the beach. It was a bright spring day and sun sparkled off blue canals and white buildings. I had to admit, the Gold Coast looked beautiful, even though, every time I saw it the little voice of doom in my head said, “This will all be under water in twenty years.”

Ronnie was directing me. Under his guidance, we turned into smaller streets and ended up on the Esplanade at Surfer’s Paradise Beach. I parked on a meter and we walked up to a café just around a corner. It may seem strange but just being at the beach in the sunshine buoyed me up and the world of covert operations and deranged murderers seemed a million miles away. We ordered and sat on uncomfortable white stools at a table outside.

“Shouldn’t he be here?” I asked. We were meeting the gun dealer. Face to face was the only way he’d do a deal, apparently.

“Do not turn around,” Ronnie said.

I froze. “What? What’s up?”

“I’m just saying, don’t turn around but he’s across the road, eating an ice cream cone.”

The urge to turn was almost overwhelming, even though I’d been told twice not to. “So, what’s he doing? Why doesn’t he come over? Does he know what you look like?”

“Patience, Grasshopper. When he’s had a good look at us and made sure there’s nobody else with us, he’ll come.”

Despite Ronnie’s assurance, we’d managed to eat the fish and chips we’d ordered and drink a surprisingly good coffee before the guy finally wandered up to the table. He was a young man – younger than me – with a shaved head and an athletic build. He was wearing boardies and a singlet and looked nothing like the suited gangster I’d imagined.

“G’day,” he said.

“ClearSkies98?” Ronnie asked.

“Phones on the table first,” the young man said. Ronnie took his out without demur, so I followed suit. “Now turn them off.” Again, Ronnie complied and so did I. “Can’t be too careful,” he said. “It’s too fucking easy to record a conversation these days.”

“We could still be wired,” Ronnie said.

The young man nodded, thoughtfully. “If the cops want me that bad, my business is fucked anyway.”

Ronnie grinned, “Hey Terry, it looks like our new friend is a philosopher.”

It took me a moment to remember that we were using the Arthur and Terry identities.

“Why don’t you pull up a seat?” Ronnie asked the dealer. “Then we can get down to business.”

“One more thing,” the young man said. “I want to see ID.”

Ronnie scowled. “Mate, there’s cautious, then there’s paranoid.” The young man just kept watching Ronnie with a level stare. With a shake of his head, Ronnie pulled out his wallet and withdrew his driver’s licence. I did the same and we handed them to the dealer. The young man studied them for a moment.

“Date of birth,” he said, looking at me.

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