The drive to the warehouse was uneventful. Despite his South Australian residency, Dale Maxson knew the western suburbs of Sydney well enough not to get lost. Parking his car in a quiet side street, he made his way stealthily to the two-storey building. From the outside, the warehouse looked like any other unoccupied building with very little activity detected within. Its once whitewash walls were cracked and greyed with age and its tall metal gates - now left unguarded with nothing but a simple chain and padlock - rusted gradually at its hinges. Maxson knew, however, that this was a decoy for what really went on behind its aging walls.
Closing the squeaky door behind him, Maxson could feel a certain presence in the air. Security surrounding the warehouse may have been non-existent but do
