The Ancient Craft

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

It was approaching midnight as Matthew Jameson and Angelo Cattani sat on the back porch of the modest fibro house that Angelo shared with his wife, Rose, his two young children and his aged Italian mother. The night had turned unexpectedly cool, but the ample supply of wine and beer had insulated the men, and they had been sharing legal gossip for over an hour since Angelo’s wife had gone to bed citing an early morning alarm to get their children ready for school the next day.

Years ago, Angelo had played a critical part in Matthew’s defence against a trumped- up assault charge, and they’d been close friends ever since. Without Angelo’s assistance, Matthew knew that gaol and the destruction of his professional life would have ensued.

Angelo had emigrated from Italy when he was a child, and Matthew felt that his friend displayed the virtues of most arrivals from that country after the Second World War – honest, hard-working and loyal. He was of slim but powerful build, around six feet tall, and possessed dark good looks that many women found irresistible.

‘I can’t move,’ Matthew groaned. ‘Your wife’s lasagne has done me in.’

‘Well I did warn you about having two servings. Especially when it was only the first course,’ Angelo answered with a chuckle.

Matthew gave a sheepish smile. ‘How are things at the drug squad? I heard your promotion to Detective Sergeant resulted in a transfer from homicide. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.’

Angelo gave a shrug of his shoulders and swirled the wine slowly in his glass for a moment before replying. ‘Drugs. They seem to destroy everyone they touch. The problem is that there’s a small fortune to be made, even by small dealers. There’s always cash available for bribes, and on our rate of pay it’s all too easy for a young copper with a wife and kids and a mortgage to pretend that it’s all right to take a cut of the profits, as it were. You just don’t know who to trust.’

‘And your bosses? What about them?’

Angelo did not reply but raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

‘Surely there are some honest cops in the hierarchy?’

‘Sure there are. But who’s straight and who’s crooked? I just keep my head down and let it be known that I’m not interested in taking bribes or doing favours or leaking information about forthcoming raids.’

‘So you miss those days on the homicide squad where you just dealt with honest murderers?’

‘Something like that,’ Angelo replied with a grin. ‘But one or two close calls got to me after a while. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.’

They both sat silently for several minutes before Matthew broke the silence. ‘What was the worst?’

Angelo gave a loud sigh.

‘About nine months ago. A bloke had bashed his wife unconscious and was on the hunt for her boyfriend, and he was full of drugs or grog or both. We received a tip-off that he might be hiding at an apartment in the inner city – a huge housing commission block that some genius of a social planner had thought would solve the problems of the disadvantaged. The problem was that we didn’t know if the information was correct, so rather than call for reinforcements, the detective sergeant with me decided we’d have a look around first. If you call for a big raid with backup and nothing’s found, then the bosses get very upset with you.’

‘What happened?’

‘We knocked, but there was no response. We had reasonable cause from the tip-off, so we forced the door. The power was cut off – probably the electricity bill wasn’t paid. It was at that time that I told the sergeant we’d better call in the troops, but he was one of those old-fashioned coppers. You know – I don’t need anyone’s help.’

‘This doesn’t sound good.’

‘It wasn’t. There we were, groping around in dark rooms. I edged around a door jamb, and in one brief shining instant I was certain I was going to die.’

Matthew looked sharply at the detective, but said nothing. The glass of wine in Angelo’s hand had started shaking almost imperceptibly.

‘All I could see was the outline of a revolver pointing at my chest. I didn’t see him at all initially, and then I heard the hammer fall as the trigger was pulled. Everything stood still, and then there was a loud explosion as the Sergeant fired at the bastard. The old Sergeant’s shot went clean through his chest, and he jumped back as if pulled by a giant spring and was dead before he hit the floor.’

‘His gun misfired?’

‘That’s what I thought at first, but when we checked the gun, it was fine.’

‘What happened?’

‘It was a six-shot revolver; a stolen police Smith and Wesson, in fact. A lot of coppers deliberately leave the chamber empty where the firing pin is resting. Some even leave the next chamber empty.’

‘Why?’

‘A safety precaution. In case the gun is dropped, or the trigger pulled by mistake. The hammer then falls on an empty chamber.’

Matthew shook his head slowly. ‘And that was the difference between you living and dying?’

Angelo nodded. ‘When I told Rosie, she went through the roof. She said that if I didn’t leave the homicide squad, she’d divorce me.’ He gave a wry grin. ‘Not that she ever would. But I got the message. I’m not a cat with nine lives.’

‘And drug dealers don’t shoot?’

‘Not usually. They’re not often psychos – most have rat-cunning and they know an arrest doesn’t necessarily mean gaol. In any event, low-level dealers don’t get much. They’re out in a year or so, and it’s not worth going down for murder.’

‘So Rose is happier now?’

Angelo glanced around to make sure that his wife had not gotten out of bed. ‘I think blissfully unaware is more accurate. I’m about to give evidence in a big drug-bust committal next month and I have to say that I’m feeling a little apprehensive.’

Matthew picked up the empty wine bottle and shook it. ‘Time for a refill then.’

After the new bottle had been produced, the cork carefully removed and their two glasses refilled, Matthew proposed a toast.

‘Here’s to success then.’

‘Thanks.’

A silence fell over them until Matthew spoke quietly, as if to signify he was serious. ‘Why apprehensive?’

‘I’ve heard on the grapevine that the three crims from the drug bust, currently residing at Long Bay, are telling everyone that the trial’s been fixed and that they’ll soon be free.’

They both knew that Long Bay Gaol was the main remand centre for defendants who were bail refused, and that rumours flowed from there on a daily basis.

‘They’re probably just boasting,’ Matthew replied.

‘Perhaps, but I’m not too happy about my offsider. He and I are the only eyewitnesses to the drug deal, and he’s been avoiding me lately. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m just not happy with his attitude.’

‘You think someone’s got at him?’

Angelo raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

‘The druggies know you’re straight, so they won’t try anything on with you, surely?’ Matthew said.

‘You know how it goes. If you can’t attack the message, you go for the messenger. Don’t forget, we’re talking about crims facing ten years or more in gaol. These characters are not low-level street dealers.’

Matthew looked at him through narrowed eyes.

‘You mean a contract?’

‘It’s not impossible.’ He took a sip of his wine, seemingly lost in thought, then spoke again. ‘But it’s not likely. It’s just another concern that comes with the job. I’ll just have to live with it and see what happens.’

Matthew gave a shrug.

‘I think I’ll stop complaining about difficult clients. It certainly puts things into perspective when I hear your stories.’

After a few silent moments, talk eased into rugby league and the performances of their favoured teams. An hour or so slipped by in this fashion until Matthew held up his hands.

‘Time to depart. I’ve got the VW outside, but I’d better call a taxi. I’ve had a few too many.’

‘You can bunk on the lounge if you like?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘No. Thanks just the same. I’ve got an early mention in the District Court and I can’t be late.’

As they waited outside for the taxi that Angelo had called, the suburb was peacefully quiet, apart from the occasional distant screech of tyres and the roar of an engine under heavy acceleration.

‘Rose must want you to ditch the coppers now that you’ve finished the exams?’ Matthew asked.

Matthew had qualified as a solicitor after attending Sydney University Law School part-time, whilst Angelo had completed a similar law course but through the Barristers Admission Board of the same university. His admission as a barrister allowed him the right of appearance in any court once instructed by a solicitor.

‘A sensitive issue you might say. There’s plenty of room for promotion for someone with legal qualifications if they keep their nose clean, and I don’t intend to end up a sergeant until I retire.’

Matthew appraised him with fresh eyes.

‘Well, well. Commissioned officer material I see.’

‘Could be. Let’s just wait and see if I survive this drug trial. You never know, I might have to join you in the future if things go pear-shaped.’

Matthew smiled, but made no reply.