Honorable Assassin (42 page)

“And what was it you were planning to kill
with all that firepower?”

“Rabbits.”

Barlow had to reign himself in. He was
starting to get angry and that would not do. “I believe we have a
mutual enemy. I can only turn my back on the situation for so long
before it comes back on me. Eventually the situation must be dealt
with.”

“You hate rabbits too?”

“Mr. Cognac, we can work together or we can
butt heads all day. I am giving you the opportunity to work with
the finest police department on the continent. I am trying to help
you eliminate a threat before it eliminates you and all the men you
are working with.”

“That hardly sounds like rabbits.”

“You know what I’m talking about. I am
offering to assist you in keeping yourself alive. There have been
too many killings of late and though they have all been somewhat
marginal members of society, they make the news. I have ignored the
problem long enough and I feel it biting on my heels.”

“You’ll have to release me, and my men.”

“Perhaps, in good time. I need to know what
you know about whoever is attacking your concerns. You can work
with me or we can attempt to achieve the same goal in a parallel
fashion and perhaps we will both fail.”

“Perhaps we’ll talk about it more when you
have released us from custody. I try not to negotiate from a
position of weakness and you have me at a disadvantage. Release us
and set up a meeting. We’ll talk.”

“And what will we discuss?”

“Rabbits.”

“I wouldn’t call Terry Kingston a rabbit.”
Theodore watched his captive’s face closely and saw what he
expected. Cognac hesitated before he replied. His manner was still
smooth but it was the first hesitation of the conversation.

“Who?” came out too weak and too late.

“I think you know what I’m talking
about.”

“Try looking at Thompson Barber. Maybe you
have something in your files on him.

Superintendent Barlow called the constable
back in to escort Jimmy Cognac back to jail. He had not expected
cooperation from the seasoned veteran of the streets, but he had
gotten what he wanted. He knew for sure they were after the same
man. They were just short on physical evidence linking him to any
of his operations and Linda had not surfaced. Barlow was tempted to
say it was a mob problem and he had no business protecting the mob.
Terry Kingston disturbed business as usual, however. He was no
longer the frightened little child they had fished out of the
ocean. He caused major disturbances and the Superintendent did not
like major disturbances.

Barlow poured himself another scotch and
wondered who was playing who. The body in the dumpster had no holes
in it. He was a wise guy with a criminal record but he had not been
shot, stabbed or beaten to death. The real cause of death would
have to wait for the coroner but the fact remained that there were
no holes in the body. Nobody noticed when a gangster disappeared,
except his family, and it was very rare for the bodies to ever
surface. Turf wars were one thing but this was no invasion. It was
another set up. Somebody had known the men were gathering there and
had planted the body to implicate them. Terry Kingston was
learning. He was becoming smoother, but he was also in the
crosshairs of both the coppers and the mob. What did he hope to
gain? Had the years of grief turned him mad?

Barlow called for any files on Thompson
Barber and then ordered some dinner. He called his wife to tell her
he was working late and called Senior Sergeant Randolph Black.
Sergeant Black would never get the promotion to Inspector he
desired, but was more than willing to do whatever was necessary. He
would seek that elusive promotion for years.

Adam Troy sat in his sumptuous home on Unwin
Street, in the Earlwood area of Sydney, and contemplated the
situation that confronted him. First there had been a lot of money
invested in the phantom businesses, but that money had been
recouped and reinvested, primarily in legitimate businesses. Second
there was a growing resentment within the population toward the
gangsters. Third, his brother who had been so professional and so
removed from emotional involvement in his younger years, was
becoming less stable.

The Troy Brothers were financially set for
life. That was beyond question. The wave of anger against organized
crime was in part due to the actions of the vigilante who had
caused so much trouble and death recently. The real problem was the
media, which had romanticized the lifestyle for years, and was now
turning against the mob. As goes the news, so goes the
populous.

Adam Troy loved his brother as much as such
a man could love anyone. Neither of the pair had much feeling for
women and they had no children. All either of them had for a
personal relationship was the other. Abel Troy had been a genius
when it came to setting up the system that allowed the two of them
to eventually take over the entire Australian black market. Adam
had been more on the recruiting end of the business at first but
his role had diminished greatly once there was a hierarchy in
place. But, Adam feared his brother was no longer objective. He saw
the actions against the organization as assaults against himself.
He was starting to see himself as a general, commanding an army.
The ‘soldiers’ were not military men however, they were just wise
guys. They were effective at getting restaurant managers to cough
up some cash every month. They could break a few jaws with brass
knuckles and they could kill when they were asked to, but they were
not an assault group. They could not be sent into a situation like
they were the Los Angeles SWAT team. And that is exactly what Abel
thought he could do.

The Mossad agents could and would react as a
military team if required to do so. The guards hired to protect
Adam at the Unwin Street mansion were that sort of professional,
trained as a team. The gangsters were not capable of that level of
coordination and precision. And now they were in custody, arrested
for the second time because of a set up. And the man they were
searching for, the real thorn in their sides, had become a
ghost.

Abel Troy sat in his modern apartment on
Castlereagh Street, with its high ceilings and its 360 degree view
of the city and the bay, chewing on his dilemma. His brother had
countermanded his order to attack the Valkierie clubhouse. Adam had
never tried to take command like that before. Decisions were mutual
but Abel had always had the last word on tactical maneuvers.

A glass of brandy had not calmed Abel’s
fears. He knew his brother was losing that undefined thing that
gave the two of them the ability to wrest the helm from its
previous, fragmented leaders and consolidate the whole country
under their flag. Abel feared his brother was veering from their
mutually accepted path at the worst possible time. They were in
more danger at this junction than they had been at any point
previously. The vigilante, who had infiltrated their ranks, had
disappeared. He, who had caused so much damage to the organization,
was sequestered with a bunch of bikies in a mountain rat hole.

Who did Adam think he was, countermanding
his brother’s orders before they had even conferred about it? Abel
Troy was the master of all he surveyed, the conquering hero
striding the land like a giant and crushing those who opposed him
beneath his heel.

Abel called for the helicopter to be prepped
and fired up. He had requested that all calls be held so he was
annoyed when the phone rang. He was about to reprimand his
secretary when she told him that it would be best if he took this
call. The connection was to the Superintendent of the New South
Wales Regional Police.

“Ah, Superintendent Barlow, I was hoping we
could get in touch with each other.” Abel’s voice echoed cheer and
dripped sincerity, a polar opposite of his real feelings.

“Mr. Troy…”

“Please, call me Abel.”

“Mr. Troy, I have been involved with your
activities for most of my career and I have the greatest of respect
for your abilities. If you were any less talented than you are I
would have ended your career by now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m
a simple businessman…”

“Let us not play the game today. I called to
tell you that we finally have the witness we need to end your
dominance of the Sydney organization.”

“Please, Mr. Barlow, if there was any truth
to what you are saying you would have arrested me by now. You call
me up at home, in the evening and tell me some fairy story of a
witness against me for something I’m certain I never did? I don’t
know what you are playing at but I assure you it will not work. I
am a businessman and nothing else.” Abel Troy hung up the phone and
it rang again, almost immediately. He was even more upset at his
secretary this time but she insisted that he could not afford to
miss the call. It was the law firm of Elroy, O’Toole and Sneed,
their primary legal advisors. The news was of the entire warehouse
full of men being detained on weapons and suspicion of capital
murder charges. A creeping suspicion and fear began to grow in
Abel’s mind. His entire street-level army was temporarily detained,
including Jimmy Cognac. None of that army had personal testimony
that could damage his brother or himself except Jimmy.

The whirring of the chopper blades, as the
machine came to life on the roof, interrupted his train of
thought.

Evan McCormick’s call brought a grin to
Terry’s face. He could not remember the last time he had smiled.
The whole situation had dragged on much too long and become much
too involved. In the process, what had started as enjoyable had
turned deadly serious.

“Yeah, mate, the whole stupid lot of them,
dragged off to the block house.”

“Then it’s time. Are you ready to become
what you were born to be? Are you ready to lead?” Terry was
counting on this drive in his associate’s make up to hold the
scheme together.

“The men are in place.”

“I asked if you were ready. If you’re not on
the job the plan will crumble.”

“Aye. I’m on the bloody job.”

“Good. The dragon has been tied down, it’s
time to cut off its head… uh heads.”

“Just give the call.”

“Very soon. Once again, we want both of them
together when we bring it down. Timing is critical. If there’s only
one in there, the one left alive will be killing every bikie in the
city. To start with.

“I got the message, mate. It will happen as
we planned. Is the diversion set?”

“Yes. Once again, the timing is
critical.”

“No worries, mate.” Evan McCormick had lots
to worry about but his outward demeanor was calm as any good leader
should be.

The telephone call to Abel was the mere
planting of the seed. Theodore Barlow knew that the Sydney Police
Department had its share of corruption and that the conference
between himself and Jimmy Cognac was not going to remain a secret
for long. The Superintendent saw a chink in the armor and was
preparing to home in on it. Jimmy was kept incommunicado; he would
be getting no visitors, he would be making no phone calls. He would
not talk to the police but in this case it was not predicated on
what he said, but what Abel Troy thought he might have said. It was
all a shell game. Barlow called for an undercover car to take him
to the residence of Adam Troy. He planted the seed, now he would
try to nurture it.

The police reacted predictably to the report
that the Valkieries had gone hog wild in a downtown casino. The
security was overwhelmed by the number of angry, drunken bikies and
there would be shootings if the constables didn’t present
themselves soon. Every on-duty officer for miles was pressed into
service to protect the casino.

As soon as the neighborhood was clear of
constables, the Dark Knights went into action. While they had been
clear about the Valkieries being unarmed for the operation, the
Knights were far from it. Dynamite and Molotov Cocktails sailed
over the walls of the Unwin Street compound. It sounded like a full
blown military assault.

Inside the compound, Adam Troy had just sat
down with the Superintendent of the Police. He was hoping there
could be an amicable arrangement negotiated between them. Theodore
Barlow had always rebuffed overtures of friendship and cooperation
in the past but there was always a chance.

The conversation had not progressed past the
preliminary small talk when the sound of the helicopter landing on
the pad in the yard intruded. The rotors had not stopped spinning
when the first of the explosions was heard. The quick thinking
pilot fired them right back up again.

Adam’s first thought was that the helicopter
had exploded. Then as the explosions continued, he realized he was
under attack. Gunfire began punctuating the sound of the dynamite
as the guards returned fire against the attack. Adam’s next thought
was to run into the basement but he knew he could not chance the
Superintendent seeing the torture room. That would destroy any
chance of an amicable relationship.

Two of the three ex-Mossad agents whirled
into the room with drawn pistols.

“Mr. Troy, we must get you out of here right
now. Your brother has returned to the helicopter and we suggest you
do the same. You and your guest should fly out of here right now
and leave the professionals to disperse the rabble assaulting your
home.”

Adam Troy knew a reasonable suggestion when
he heard one. He and Superintendent Barlow allowed themselves to be
herded to the helicopter and jumped on board. Abel was already back
in the passenger bay along with the third of the Israelis.

The assault had turned into a gun fight as
people took cover from the opposing fire. The occasional shell
ricocheted off the body of the helicopter as it rose from its pad.
From inside, the passengers got a good look at the situation. Some
of the combatants from both sides were down. Big holes had been
blown in the lawn but the dynamite had more of a psychological
effect. Fires were raging from the Molotov Cocktails but they were
confined to the bushes and outbuildings. The main house did not
seem to be in danger.