Free Dark City Blue: A Tom Bishop Rampage by Luke Preston

behind the wheel.
    It was Con Taylor.

Chapter Thirteen
    He dug around in the boot and found a tape recorder and a primitive wire that Bishop latched onto the pocket of his jeans. He hit record and moved down the alley.
    Con Taylor’s eyes were closed with his head aimed to the roof. Alison Allen had a face full of balls. Neither of them saw him coming. Bishop ripped open the driver’s side door, grabbed Taylor by the collar and dumped him on the concrete face first. He came up with one hand yanking at his pants and the other going for his shoulder holster.
    Bishop was faster. ‘I’d think twice about that,’ he said and took aim at his skull.
    A flicker of recognition flashed across Taylor’s face. ‘Jesus, Bishop. The fuck you doing?’
    The passenger door opened and Alison stumbled out, her arms around her body for warmth. She avoided looking Bishop in the eye.
    ‘Go home, sweetheart,’ he said.
    A couple of moments after her footsteps disappeared out of the alley, the echo of a busted engine faded into the night.
    ‘You scared the shit out of me,’ Taylor said, lighting a cigarette.
    He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Agitated and anxious. It was a different Con Taylor from the one Bishop had seen earlier today. He was drug fucked but his habit wasn’t a twenty-four-hour thing yet.
    Bishop lowered his weapon, kept it close.
    ‘What do you want man?’ His voice sounded as if somebody had given it the once-over with a sander.
    ‘How about the fifteen million, for a start.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Where were you between four and seven this morning?’
    ‘Fuck you,’ he spat, making an awkward attempt to get back into his car. Bishop pulled him back.
    ‘Where were you?’
    ‘At home in bed.’
    ‘Alone?’
    ‘Nah, with me wife.’
    ‘Will Trisha back you up after I tell her about Alison?’
    They both knew the answer.
    ‘I know Alison’s car was a spotter.’
    ‘Go fucking arrest her, then.’
    ‘She wasn’t driving. You were too stupid or too lazy to go and steal a clean car, so you used hers.’
    Instantly, Taylor sobered up. He planted his feet and locked onto Bishop with a hard stare.
    ‘Prove it.’
    ‘I can.’
    ‘With your little SD footage?’ He patted himself down. ‘Yeah, I’m not too sure where I left that. You know how it is: evidence gets lost all the time.’
    Bishop felt the hum of the tape recorder against his leg. ‘That’s not all I’ve got.’
    ‘We’ve all got some dirt, mate.’ Taylor lit another cigarette off the butt of his last. ‘What do they expect? I can’t even pay my bills; none of us fucking can.’ Spit flew from his mouth. ‘Tell me you don’t have something going on the side.’ Bishop shook his head and Taylor dismissed him with a wave of his hand. ‘Well, you’re fucked in the head, then.’
    It was starting to drizzle. The rain formed a wall of mist between them.
    Taylor squinted. His face pulled to the side. ‘What do you think you’re going to do now?’
    ‘We go in. You come clean.’
    ‘Fuck you. I ain’t going anywhere.’
    Bishop tightened his grip on his weapon. ‘Yeah, you are.’
    Taylor paced one way, then another. Like he was already in a cell. ‘We’re everywhere, you idiot. We’re junior constables. We’re senior badges. We’re inspectors and we’re in every department. We run this department and who are you? Who the fuck are you?’
    ‘I’m the guy who does his job.’
    Taylor sized him up. ‘You take me in and Justice will bury you.’
    ‘With your thumb and finger, take out your weapon,’ Bishop said.
    ‘You don’t have the balls.’
    ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘maybe not.’
    Taylor shifted his weight, dropped his shoulder.
    Bishop shot him twice.

Chapter Fourteen
    Smoke drifted from the barrel, past Bishop’s scratched badge and faded into night. Sirens in the distance bounced off empty buildings and echoed for miles around. Then came the prowlers and the uniforms; they cordoned off the alley with