witnesses as far as we know, though others might have fled to safety. If they exist, we need to find them.’ He pointed to badges, assigned duties. ‘You all know what to do, so do it well. And for Christ’s sake, someone turn off that fucking alarm.’
The unit dispersed and an obedient uniform rushed toward the Merc, leaving Rayburn and Bishop alone.
‘What about me?’ Bishop asked.
Rayburn lit a cigarette, let the smoke leak through his words. ‘I want you to go home, get some rest.’
‘I don’t need rest.’
‘ I need people who are on the ball, and you look far from that.’ He pointed to the gash on Bishop’s head. ‘See a medic and go home.’
He walked off as a news chopper swooped in and hovered a few hundred feet above them. Half the cops on the street waved it away, but it was too late: the images were already in the lounge rooms of the world. The chopper disappeared into the skyline. The fading noise of its engine was replaced with a sound Bishop had heard a thousand times and still hadn’t got used to: a woman in pyjama pants and a puffy jacket broke the police tape and ran toward them, sobbing and wailing. Bishop stepped forward, grabbed her. He buried her face in his jacket, hugged her close so she didn’t have to see the world for a while.
An ambo waited patiently until she let go of him, then walked her away from the scene.
‘Fucked up, isn’t it?’ Ellison kept her gaze focused on the cigarette she was struggling to spark up in the wind. ‘It always amazes me how they get here so fast.’
‘Would you take your time?’
‘I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant.’ Bishop waved his hand to let her know it was okay.
She didn’t seem too worried. ‘This is fucking awesome; I’ve been waiting for a case like this for ages.’
‘They shifted you from SC?’
‘Only for a few days. They want a woman for the cameras and shit, but I don’t give a fuck.’ She adjusted her shirt. Like Rayburn’s, it was a size too small, but the smaller size fitted her better than it did him. ‘What’s our first move, boss?’
‘I’m not on this,’ he said. ‘Rayburn’s sending me home.’
‘Motherfucker,’ she spat. ‘You’re not going to let them get away with it, are you?’
The Merc’s alarm fell silent, but echoes of it rang in everybody’s ears for a few moments longer. A uniform pulled his head out from under the bonnet with a look of achievement on his face as if he had just solved the entire crime.
Bishop’s gaze lingered on the Mercedes. He made his way over to it with Ellison in his wake. She was still talking, but, although he threw in a mumble from time to time, he wasn’t really listening. Taking a lap of the Merc, he ran his fingers along the bullet holes, jamming his finger into each one as his thoughts swirled in a thousand different directions.
‘What is it?’
Kneeling down at the rear of the car, it didn’t take him long to find the reverse camera that sat just under the licence plate. He followed its line of sight: a complete view of the crime scene.
He looked up at the uniform. ‘Is the alarm disabled?’
‘Yes sir.’
Bishop scanned the street. ‘Give me your baton.’
The uniform handed it over, watching nervously as Bishop put it through the driver’s side window. Nobody noticed. He popped the boot and searched it.
‘When the alarm is triggered, the reverse camera automatically records.’
Bishop pulled the SD card and showed it to Ellison.
Chapter Ten
With the door closed, the only sound in the small office was the hum of the computer booting up. Bishop slid the SD card into the adaptor he got from tech and plugged it in. Despite how it was captured, the image from the back of the Merc was clear with a good angle on St Kilda Road, the disabled armoured truck, and a crime that was in process long before the camera started recording. Three masked gunmen swooped the rear of the truck relaying cash. Truck to car. Truck to car. Within
The unit dispersed and an obedient uniform rushed toward the Merc, leaving Rayburn and Bishop alone.
‘What about me?’ Bishop asked.
Rayburn lit a cigarette, let the smoke leak through his words. ‘I want you to go home, get some rest.’
‘I don’t need rest.’
‘ I need people who are on the ball, and you look far from that.’ He pointed to the gash on Bishop’s head. ‘See a medic and go home.’
He walked off as a news chopper swooped in and hovered a few hundred feet above them. Half the cops on the street waved it away, but it was too late: the images were already in the lounge rooms of the world. The chopper disappeared into the skyline. The fading noise of its engine was replaced with a sound Bishop had heard a thousand times and still hadn’t got used to: a woman in pyjama pants and a puffy jacket broke the police tape and ran toward them, sobbing and wailing. Bishop stepped forward, grabbed her. He buried her face in his jacket, hugged her close so she didn’t have to see the world for a while.
An ambo waited patiently until she let go of him, then walked her away from the scene.
‘Fucked up, isn’t it?’ Ellison kept her gaze focused on the cigarette she was struggling to spark up in the wind. ‘It always amazes me how they get here so fast.’
‘Would you take your time?’
‘I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant.’ Bishop waved his hand to let her know it was okay.
She didn’t seem too worried. ‘This is fucking awesome; I’ve been waiting for a case like this for ages.’
‘They shifted you from SC?’
‘Only for a few days. They want a woman for the cameras and shit, but I don’t give a fuck.’ She adjusted her shirt. Like Rayburn’s, it was a size too small, but the smaller size fitted her better than it did him. ‘What’s our first move, boss?’
‘I’m not on this,’ he said. ‘Rayburn’s sending me home.’
‘Motherfucker,’ she spat. ‘You’re not going to let them get away with it, are you?’
The Merc’s alarm fell silent, but echoes of it rang in everybody’s ears for a few moments longer. A uniform pulled his head out from under the bonnet with a look of achievement on his face as if he had just solved the entire crime.
Bishop’s gaze lingered on the Mercedes. He made his way over to it with Ellison in his wake. She was still talking, but, although he threw in a mumble from time to time, he wasn’t really listening. Taking a lap of the Merc, he ran his fingers along the bullet holes, jamming his finger into each one as his thoughts swirled in a thousand different directions.
‘What is it?’
Kneeling down at the rear of the car, it didn’t take him long to find the reverse camera that sat just under the licence plate. He followed its line of sight: a complete view of the crime scene.
He looked up at the uniform. ‘Is the alarm disabled?’
‘Yes sir.’
Bishop scanned the street. ‘Give me your baton.’
The uniform handed it over, watching nervously as Bishop put it through the driver’s side window. Nobody noticed. He popped the boot and searched it.
‘When the alarm is triggered, the reverse camera automatically records.’
Bishop pulled the SD card and showed it to Ellison.
Chapter Ten
With the door closed, the only sound in the small office was the hum of the computer booting up. Bishop slid the SD card into the adaptor he got from tech and plugged it in. Despite how it was captured, the image from the back of the Merc was clear with a good angle on St Kilda Road, the disabled armoured truck, and a crime that was in process long before the camera started recording. Three masked gunmen swooped the rear of the truck relaying cash. Truck to car. Truck to car. Within
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