Read Dark City Blue: A Tom Bishop Rampage for Free Online

of the corner of his eye, Bishop saw the needle pass 120 km/h. The trees turned into traffic lights and buildings. The sky broke blue in shades that brightened like a slow-burning fuse toward 6 AM.
    The roads were dead. Three blocks out from the casino, his phone rang.
    Ellison. She had found out the pick-up point for Crown. Loading bay 9.
    Bishop swung the fleet around a corner and aimed toward the complex. The bottom of the car scraped a speed hump as he floored it into the underground car park. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he scanned each of the loading bay doors as they blurred past them. Each was numbered in yellow paint. He pulled a right and came to a sliding stop outside bay 9.
    The clock on the dash read 5:33 AM.
    Bishop climbed out of his car. Three heavyset guys in cheap suits and fake tans were dragging down the roller door.
    ‘Hey,’ he called.
    They straightened and grew a foot in the process. ‘Hey yourself,’ one of them grunted.
    Bishop showed his badge; their attitude changed.
    ‘How long until the 5.30 pick-up?’
    ‘You just missed it.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Came early.’
    The roller door yanked up from the inside and a man with short legs and an even shorter body stepped out. ‘What the fuck is going on out here? Lock it up, lock it up.’
    ‘Are you Rodney Doolan?’ Bishop asked, his phone already in his hand.
    ‘Yeah, so what?’
    ‘How long ago did the Armaguard pick-up leave?’
    He was about to mouth off when he saw the badge on Bishop’s belt. His mind worked overtime until he realised who he was. ‘Told you the pick-up would go off without a hitch.’
    Bishop punched in the number and held it to his ear while he measured Doolan up. ‘It was never getting hit here. It’ll be taken on the road.’
    Doolan looked like he had just shit a brick.
    ‘How long?’ Bishop demanded.
    ‘Three, four minutes.’
    ‘How much was it carrying?’
    ‘Fifteen million, maybe more.’
    Ellison answered. ‘Bishop?’
    ‘The truck has already left. Alert all patrols in the area, and I need to talk to a dispatcher at Armaguard Security.’
    A few moments later, a woman with a brash voice came on the line. ‘What can I do you for, detective?’
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Daphne.’
    ‘Daphne, we’ve got good reason to believe one of your armoured trucks is going to be hit this morning. I need you to patch me through to the driver of the truck that just left Crown Casino.’
    ‘Yes sir.’ He heard the click as she put him on hold.
    Bishop headed back to his car, pulled his shotgun from the boot and loaded it. Doolan watched him from the loading dock, a fool’s look across his face and a lump in his throat.
    The line clicked again. ‘Detective? I can’t raise him.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘He’s not answering the radio.’
    ‘Is there GPS on that truck?
    ‘Um, ah, yes’
    ‘Find it.’
    Bishop heard her attack the keyboard, and when she was finished she said, ‘It’s moving.’
    Bishop climbed into the car. ‘Where?’
    ‘Heading down City Road. Just turned left on Moray Street.’
    He turned the key. Floored the pedal and let the door close itself as he took off and skidded out of the car park. Sunlight blasted the streets. Swerving around a garbage truck on the wrong side of the road, he pulled in front of it and sped forward.
    ‘Daphne, I’m going to need you to give me real-time updates, can you do that?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Where is it at now?’
    ‘Still on Moray Street, heading north.’
    ‘How far up?’
    ‘Just past Park Street.’
    Ten blocks ahead of him.
    He accelerated toward the intersection. Green light. Tapped the brakes. Traffic backed up. He yanked the wheel and bounced the car up on to the gutter and made it through the intersection.
    ‘Just turned left on Albert Road.’
    Bishop sped up. Pulled a hard right on to Albert Road. It was two lanes each way, traffic was light but slow. Bishop bobbed and weaved through