Hazardous

By Ruby Stiff

Mysterious Erika Ward has been on Brisbane’s most wanted list since she was a teenager. Detached and efficient, she and her team who call themselves The Black Letter E evade the police time and time again with ease. Their most recent heist at the Gallery of Modern Art should be a cinch but they never counted on Patrick Marquis and his mob princess girlfriend Ilesha O’Brien. From here on everything begins to unravel in a series of events that leads to the final moments on the roof top of the Treasury Casino.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
• Release date: Jul 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781624202650

Book preview

Prologue

It was a perfect afternoon, the kind artists, photographers, and film-makers alike dreamed of; late afternoon at the start of winter in Brisbane's CBD. The air carried the crispness that hinted of winter, an enticing little nip but not enough to make it unpleasant. The sun dipped below the buildings, the rays slanting across the muddy river and through the supports of the bridges spanning the water. Southbank's riverfront promenade milled with people enjoying the evening, pushing prams, eating ice cream and sprawling themselves on the grassy banks overlooking the river.

Brisbane has never possessed the glamor of Sydney or Melbourne, but its history as a frontier town turned into a city never really left it. The old buildings with their wrought iron balustrades and expressive granite facades bleed seamlessly into the concrete apartment blocks and inner city offices giving it the edge of a town that grew up while its sisters Melbourne and Sydney weren't looking. Brisbane would probably always stand as the underrated younger sister. For people trying to hide under the radar of the law, this was a good place.

A lone figure carrying a sports bag strode purposefully across the lawn of Queen's Park toward George Street. The slight breeze caught the mane of brown ringlet curls and knee-length suede coat as the figure slunk unnoticed past tourists, across George Street before entering the sandstone building currently under reconstruction.

A thigh-burning climb brought the figure to the rooftop. After a quick glance over the edge, the figure dropped the sports bag with a definite metallic clunk. She bent over to remove a sniper rifle before glancing up at the apartment blocks that cast a shadow over the roof. The chances of being spotted were slim, but not impossible. The gunman turned back to her weapon and began organizing it.

By the time the rifle was set on its tripod and everything settled, a person appeared on the rooftop of the Treasury Casino. The casino sat just diagonal from where the gunman stood, across a busy street; a good 150-meter shot. It wasn't an impossible shot but it needed to be done with one; she couldn't afford a second shot.

Leaning forward, the gunman used the crosshairs in the scope to bring the man on the roof into range using his leather jacket as a mark. One pull of the trigger and that's all it would take. The man on the roof of the casino shifted about, checked his phone, and took in the scenery, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. Finally he settled in perfect firing range against the railing.

The gunman sat back on her heels… and hesitated.

Chapter One

Thick as thieves

Ringleader

Emma Hyde stood at the top of the pitch, Left Inside position, slowly turning her hockey stick in her hands. The rain drizzled from the sky, obscuring the view of the cityscape behind the hockey pitch as the Fillies battled the Redbacks for possession of the ball. Despite the rain, Emma sweated profusely under her green and blue uniform; Brisbane turned into a hot-house with the rain.

The match shaped up to be a cracker. Already one player from the Fillies carried off with a hockey ball to the cheek and the offending Redback player sin-binned until the end of the match. Emma glanced at the time, which informed her there were less than two minutes on the clock with both teams tied at nil-all. Being the Grand Finals, if they couldn't seek it out soon, there would be a rematch, and Emma had much more pressing concerns in the future.

Fleetingly, she pushed a few strands of her dark hair from her cool blue eyes that scanned the hockey pitch, anticipating the opposition's move. Hockey players, particularly the long-term players like Emma, developed impressive calves and thighs; Emma being no different. And yet Emma retained a certain understated feminine charm despite wearing very minimal makeup and bland suits and uninspiring outfits when she wasn't in her hockey uniform.

The ball spun toward Emma just as the clock ticked down to 00.00.59. Emma's heart leaped in her throat as she dived, capturing it and looking around for someone to pass to. She stared around frantically as a horde of Redback team members swarmed for her, sticks raised like clubs. Emma's heart pounded, suddenly feeling like she was the only player on the pitch, frantically searching for someone to pass it to. The Right Inside suddenly came into view as Emma recoiled, ready to strike the ball but never got a chance. The defending Red Back Insider dived at her, crash tackling her to the ground, soaking her blue and green uniform.

Emma gasped, first in horror at such a blatant disregard for the rules but also because another Redback, who had been behind the one who crash tackled her, caught the ball and with a loud thwack fired it toward the goal. She didn't see it hit the goal but heard the crowd leap to its feet and roar thunderously. Emma dropped her head into the muck and groaned dramatically as the Red Back who crash tackled her leaped up and jumped on the back of the one who had fired the winning shot. Pulling herself up Emma began the march of shame back to the showers as the final horn sounded.

Over an hour later, she emerged from the showers, where she had been trying to drown her sorrows under the hot water. The clouds still hung thick and grey in the sky, matching her mood as she scanned the car park. It didn't take her long to spot the lean, polo shirt and denim-clad figure of her husband James leaning against their neon green Suzuki Swift. He didn't look annoyed, just more disappointed than anything. That was probably worse than him being annoyed.

You could have had her, he said as he took her sports bag and dumped it in the boot.

Don't. Please just…don't talk about it, Emma sighed.

James continued, totally disregarding his wife's annoyed expression. Just a second earlier, if you had sent it to your In-fielder, it was clear on her side. I've seen that chick run, your Insider, she could have made it to the goal for sure.

Leaning her head against the window, Emma rubbed her forehead as James rabbited on. You guys have done so well all season too. Damn the Redbacks; this is their fourth year. They keep poaching the good players from other suburbs. It should be made illegal really —

Shut up! Emma snapped, glaring at him.

James jumped like he hadn't expected her to snap at him. What? It's true.

I don't care! I don't want to talk about it! My coach has already had a go at me, Emma retorted angrily as they drove for home. My teammates have got the sulks. Everyone is making it sound like it's my fault when it's not.

Darling, it's not your fault, James cooed, leaning over to rub her knee. Besides, it's just a game and it's not like you guys are pro-league anyways.

Emma's eyes widened as she stared at him. Wow! So, just because we're not Olympic level athletes, losing is ok? You're so insensitive sometimes, James.

I'm not insensitive! James frowned. I was merely making the point that—

That what? Because it doesn't involve you it's not the end of the world?

Don't go turning my words around. You know exactly what I meant, James snapped, his hands gripping the steering wheel firmly. Ever since you started going to those bollocks therapy sessions on your own, you've been saying weird stuff.

Emma's jaw dropped slightly as she stammered for words but found them soon enough. We both should be going to those. It's called 'couples’ therapy,' as in we both go. It's not my fault Dr. Lindy talks sense!

Yeah, exactly.

Exactly what?

Doctor Lindy Martinez. Of course a woman would tell you all this rubbish! I never wanted to go to those sessions. I don't see the point of them, James retorted.

Emma descended into silence with a shake of her head. This was it; this was exactly why she suggested the couples’ counseling in the first place, because regular conversations and dramas descended into pointless arguments Emma didn't even see the point of defending herself in. Ten years of marriage and it hadn't always been this way. Yet, it felt as though it had. Of course James didn't want couples therapy; he felt they were fine, mostly because he always got his own way.

So you're gonna do that. James broke through her thoughts with a nasty look on his face. The dreaded silent treatment.

No, I decided to do the mature thing and end this pointless discussion, Emma replied tersely.

See there you go —

Emma held up a hand. For both our sakes, just don't talk, ok?

James's jaw clicked shut, his eyes cold as he gritted his teeth and stared back at the road. Emma leaned her head against the window. Outside it had begun to rain again, falling in drizzly sheets, plumes of white spray being flicked up from the tires of the cars in front as they whizzed along the motorway. For once the weather suited her mood. The smell of the rain wafted through the air conditioning system, the cold air blowing through Emma's damp hair.

Emma heard her phone vibrate in her handbag. She gladly reached for it, eager for the distraction.

BLE meeting 8pm bring plans

~ * ~

Disco

Elle Murdoch woke with a screech as the blankets were hauled off the bed, the cool morning air slapping her skin. She rolled over and stared furiously at the figure that stood at the end of her bed, already dressed in his dirty jeans, a flannelette shirt, and a black Akubra hat. Dropping her head back, she groaned. Another day had started.

Come on, up and at them, sunshine! The sun has just started to creep over the horizon! her husband, Phil, crowed, dumping the blankets at the foot of the bed.

Elle groaned a drawn out swear word, burying her head in the pillow. For once, why couldn't she be left to sleep in, not hauled out of bed before the sun? Oh, the joys of being a farmer's wife. Phil leaned down and wrapped his big hands around her feet and began to tug her progressively out of bed.

Come on! The steers need checking and I think the bore has busted again, Phil tugged her feet insistently.

Kicking his hands off her ankles, Elle rolled out of bed and rubbed her short red hair making it frizz up in all directions. Across the room her judogi had been thrown carelessly onto the back of the armchair after last night's black belt tournament which she lost. Elle frowned at it, remembering how close she came to making the state judo team only to lose to a measly pipsqueak; a size eight, just graduated from high school Barbie-doll pipsqueak to be precise. Elle sighed; maybe she was too old and should give up.

Through her bedroom window she could just see first glows of orange, precursor to the sunrise spreading through the fence line that marked the boundary of their property. It was a pretty sight if it didn't mean getting up to check on cattle with her husband, who was more than capable of doing it alone but hated getting off the four-wheeler to open gates. She also suspected that this was her husband's interpretation of 'let’s do more together as a couple' that their marriage counselor suggested. Elle's version of do more together involved Phil being present, but gagged, in the same room as she read through her mountain of erotica novels. Either way, Phil never went to any more marriage counseling sessions and Elle couldn't see the point of it if only one partner was present so that never went very far…

Elle stood at below average height, curvy with sharp blue eyes, light freckles across her cheeks and a broad grin that spelled trouble of the highest order. She eyed her reflection in the mirror, cursed herself for getting old and being dragged out by her hubby when she should be getting beauty sleep. She leaned on the dresser and groaned again.

She could hear Phil's boots stomping down the hallway and she knew better than to press her luck. She snatched up her jacket and at least made it look like she was getting organized. Phil poked his head around the door, Elle giving him a look of 'See? I'm getting ready.' Phil nodded, seemingly appeased as she mooched around getting into some other clothes.

Once dressed, Elle exited the bedroom and headed for the nearest door. She drummed her knuckles against the door before entering. Under a mound of blankets slept the eldest of the spawn; Tim, blonde messy hair, blue eyes and dead to the world. Wrenching the blinds open, Elle's teenaged son groaning as the pre-dawn light filtered into the room.

Come on. Get up or I will send your father in, Elle warned before stalking out.

Madison, the youngest, two years younger than Tim, proved to be no more responsive. After opening the blinds yielded nothing but a mumble, Elle dug her hands under the blanket and began tickling her daughter. Madison woke with a squeal which was followed by a burst of giggles, flinging her hands around to get her mother's off her.

Satisfied, Elle gazed down at her daughter affectionately. Be out of bed by the time we get back from the steers ok?

Phil was already waiting outside on the quad bike and revved the engines impatiently. Rolling her eyes, Elle hopped on behind him as they took off together down the paddock. Eight gates later, all which Elle had to open, they arrived at the bottom paddock, the gully still covered in a layer of dew as Elle and Phil hopped off.

The sun had yet to reach this gully, as the Hereford-cross steers milled about, mooing and watching the pair with big gentle eyes. They were dozy at this time of the morning, ambling about, some rubbing their heads on fence posts or each other, munching on wisps of hay or just simply watching as Phil and Elle entered the paddock.

As predicted the bore had broken, again. Phil emptied the trough before examining it, muttering under his breath while Elle stood back. A couple of steers nudged up beside her, Elle rubbing their broad foreheads with a grin.

Stop mollycoddling them, Phil muttered without looking up.

Why? Elle bit back. They had encountered this discussion before.

Because they are steers and in a few weeks they will be off to the sale yards and you will be miserable, like you always are, Phil gave her an irritable look before returning his attention to the bore.

So? They should have a bit of affection before they get turned into steaks, the nearest one nudged her a little too affectionately, knocking her back a few steps.

Phil said nothing but began bashing a bolt on the bore that seemingly had come loose. Before Elle could point out that bashing it would hardly fix the problem, the wrench slipped off the bolt, hit the pipe severing the rusty link. Cold water erupted from the bore, the steers scattering in panic as the blast of water knocked Elle off her feet and into the mud. Phil hurriedly cut off the water before doubling over in hysterics at his wife.

Elle pulled herself out of the mud, dripping wet, shivering as the steers ambled back staring at her curiously. Leaning on the edge of the trough Phil howled with laughter.

It's…not… funny, Elle snapped, her teeth already chattering.

That was the best thing I've seen in weeks, Phil managed between hoots.

If you hadn't bashed that like a Neanderthal, it wouldn't have broken, Elle hauled herself to her feet, coated in muck.

Now don't you use your big words on me, Phil retorted, suddenly losing the laughing look from his eyes, replaced by one of annoyance. It's not my fault I didn't go any further than year 9 at school.

That's not an excuse for everything, Elle grumbled under her breath.

Phil stalked up to her with a glare. I'll drive you back to the house.

I can ride the quad myself, Elle offered a hand for the keys.

Phil ignored her stalking up to the bike and swinging on. Elle gritted her teeth before scrambling on behind him leaving the steers staring at them in bewilderment.

Tim and Madison looked up from their cereal as their soaking wet mother stalked through the back door and down the hall. Elle heard Phil recount what happened as she stalked into the bathroom and turned the hot water knob, knowing it would take a few minutes for the solar panels to heat the water.

Elle paced alongside the bed, shivering and swearing. Her fingers were numb, she was shaking as she wrenched her jacket off and threw it on the bed cursing her husband, herself for marrying a farmer, the bore, the steers, the water, the kids, the shower for not heating up fast enough….everything. She stomped around waiting for the water to run warm when she heard her phone vibrate on the bedside table.

BLE meeting 8pm. I have Scotch this time, promise

~ * ~

Rookie

The warm sunshine filtered through the curtains as Em Gilchrist rolled over in bed, warm and snug. She had stayed up late the night before, watching a movie and having a few quiet drinks with a girlfriend who left after midnight. Yawning broadly she opened her eyes and stared at the clock on the wall. It was a nice clock with a Hello Kitty face Elle had bought her for Christmas last year. Em loved Hello Kitty even if—

8.55 am.

Em sprung out of bed, put her foot on an item of clothing and slipped over, landing with a thump on the floor. Swearing, she scuttled to her feet, snatching up her jeans discarded on the floor and sprinting into the bathroom.

She stood before the mirror, eyeing her tired reflection. Her golden blonde hair with its thick fringe had become disorganized in the night and her baby blue eyes were rimmed in grit. She washed her face, gasping at the icy water before hunting for her toothbrush. Em stood 5'5" on a good day, petite but athletic with a pixie-like face.

I'm late. I'm late. I'm dead. I'm late. The red queen will have my head! she muttered hauling herself into her jeans before dragging the comb through her golden blonde hair and pulling it into a ponytail.

Bundling into the living room/kitchen area of her student's apartment, she snatched up her folders and sprinted down the hall to the stairs. Em cursed herself for drinking the night before a big exam. She wasn't hungover but the alcohol had made her sleepy so she clearly slept through her alarm. Or it didn't go off… that was also a possibility.

Outside, Em sprinted for the bus just as she saw it pull into the station. Waving her free arm and yowling like a banshee, she made sure the driver could see her coming as she dived aboard. The bus driver eyed her impassively as she fumbled for her wallet, her hands shaking uncontrollably as suddenly her coin purse erupted to life, the coins skittering across the floor. The driver sighed as Em dived down and scooped them all up, apologizing profusely. Finally she paid her fare and dropped herself in the seat closest to the door.

By the time the bus had reached the University campus, she was on her feet and dived out the door before it was properly open. Em bolted through the grounds, barging through crowds of students who stood around chatting on the footpath. Some eyed her, a couple yelled out angrily as she yelled apologies over her shoulder.

She skidded into the main foyer of her building and ran for the stairs. Days like today, she was glad she ran for exercise, most people would be flat on their backs having heart attacks by now. At the top of the stairs, she spotted the double doors to the lecture hall where her exam was being held, the clock above the wide window informing her she was already ten minutes late.

Bursting through the double doors, Em ran down the stairs of the swooping lecture theater toward the lecturer's desk, the professor with the flame red hair who looked suspiciously like the current Prime Minister Julia Gillard, eyeing her with disgust. Em opened her mouth to apologize but as she put her foot on the second to last step she stood on a pencil someone had dropped. Her foot slipped out from under her and in a shower of papers from her folders, she hit the deck, her head thumping off the shiny wooden floors and she went out cold.

When she came to, she had been rolled onto her back, the professor and a bunch of other students stood over her. Em groaned and rubbed her head which pounded painfully. She could feel someone attaching something to her arm and when she looked down the Campus nurse was taking her blood pressure.

I'm really sorry, Em managed, torn between dying of embarrassment and just plain dying.

Hush, just lay still, the nurse said soothingly.

Even though her phone lay on the floor where it burst from its holder inside her notes folder, Em heard it vibrate. Rolling away from the nurse she snatched it up before anyone else had a chance.

BLE meeting 8pm. Try not to be late.

~ * ~

Phantom

The endless blipping of the scanners rang through the air in a continuous, electronic beeping known to send people mad. It was late afternoon, the final rush of the day in full swing before everything would go quiet in Snag-a-Bargain Discount Variety Store. People lined up with baskets full of items, some more than a little impatient. The checkout chicks worked tirelessly scanning products, packing and ringing the money through the tills.

Erika Ward looked over the computer screen and inwardly groaned as she recognized a previous shopper stood next in line. Looking back to the current customer, she flicked her waist length