Chapter 36 #2
Across the room, Finn didn’t say a word.
He’d been to those stockyards, even stopping at that shed Taryn flashed on the screen.
Back when he thought he was laying the groundwork for something clean, flagging it in the first Gaps File as a potential quarantine site.
A base for a southern stock squad. And that mongrel had turned it into a shopfront for thieves.
‘And through M.T. Spiker Co,’ continued Taryn, clicking through a series of emails, ‘Red and Bob would get emailed tasks or requests overseen by Drew. Everything from livestock orders, to digging up dirt on people they could exploit to become potential truck drivers, like Tooley—the guy who had a clean record, two kids and a crippling mortgage.’
Craig leaned forward, his brow creasing. ‘What about Sawyer Dixby? Is he SW?’
Taryn shook her head. ‘SW Rural Contracting is Bob’s. His real name is Samuel Ward. The red pickup Sawyer drove was leased under Bob’s company. Even though it’s under the parent company of Temp Roicks Pty Ltd, which owns the quarry, it’s Bob who’s in charge of that area.’
‘I knew Bob was related to the Dixbys, I just didn’t realise he’d be helping Sawyer,’ said Craig.
‘Well, from what we saw in the paper trail, Bob was Sawyer’s cousin, and he knew that the overseer needed to stay hidden.
Based on the emails, Red knew Sawyer had a debt and was desperate for a way to make money.
Only Red used that to control him. And, maybe out of guilt for the obvious manipulations, Bob got his cousin, Sawyer, what he called.
..’ She flicked down through her notes and said, ‘the red yank-tank.’
‘The Ram?’ Porter asked.
She nodded, holding up one of her files. ‘I found the paperwork for it, even the receipts for tools that Bob got for his cousin to help him find those missing deeds out at Dixby Downs station.’
‘Did they kill Sawyer?’ Porter asked, who was the same as Craig, both men had always wondered if it wasn’t murder, when they’d first found Sawyer’s dusty grave.
‘I don’t know.’ She gave a shrug.
Amara asked Taryn, ‘And the quarry?’
‘The quarry was always their backup if Dixby Downs was ever shut down. Because of the logistics, Dixby Downs suited them better, until the paperwork went through on the quarry.’
Taryn clicked again and showed more documents, linking them to companies and places. ‘And just in case the quarry got too hot? This past month they’ve been prepping the paperwork for Noonamah Rise. Another remote rural NT holdings that is still connected to the same logistics web.’
Finn’s stomach turned. Was that where Red and Bob were hiding out now?
‘So how are they moving stock?’ Stone asked, ‘The road trains, the gear? How do they get it in and out without raising flags?’
‘Corkspite M. Group. They order the trucks. Handle all the land logistics. Their invoices are legit—on paper. Again, registered for feed, grain and livestock logistics, useful for moving bulk goods. And I’ve found, through interstate data, that their trucks are always in the area the same days stock thefts are reported. But here’s the kicker…’
She paused, forcing Finn to prepare for another kick in the guts from this PowerPoint presentation.
‘I suspect it’s the same trailer swap scheme, just like that truck you busted on the Spinifex Highway.
Good stock swapped out for second-rate stock.
Or the truck shows up light.’ Taryn looked at the team and said with a layer of heaviness, ‘And it’s not just here, guys.
This is happening in three other states: Western Australia, South Australia, and Queensland. ’
The murmur, and the shoes shuffling under the table, demonstrated the enormity of the situation all being laid out before them. Each screen. Each new layer. It was like swallowing broken glass.
‘As for the high-value hauls, the specialised stock like those elite equestrian horses, crocodiles, banteng, the rodeo bulls… Those are taken purely for frozen genetic material and shifted up north to those way stations—like Dane Carter’s property he’d sold to Everlight, then Dixby Downs, and now the quarry.
’ She clicked to a map on the screen. ‘Excluding Everlight’s property, Dixby Downs and the quarry have airstrips, where they use chartered jets to carry those cryogenic containers inside simple cardboard boxes.
Every shipment has customs paperwork filed through Merc Topski.
A registered international livestock exporter, that gives the impression that it’s Eastern European, but it’s a front for offshore transfers with lots of legitimate looking paperwork wearing a fake Customs rubber stamp. ’
She then paused, putting down that clicker that was going to give Finn nightmares every time he heard it. And how she looked at him didn’t help either.
‘It was all in your Gaps File, Finn. All of it. You just didn’t know the names of the companies, but you had it all there, on the wall in your home.’
‘What’s with all those company names?’ Stone muttered at the table. ‘They sound like someone shook a Scrabble bag and made-up those names and logos.’
And that’s when it clicked—the right kind of click…
The pattern.
‘Have you got a list of those company names?’ Finn demanded, standing now a few inches off the wall. ‘Just the names.’
‘Sure.’ Taryn swiped through her laptop, then clicked to an image on the screen behind her, where the logos vanished and were replaced by a list of names, some he hadn’t seen before:
STOKEMIR PC
M.T. SPIKER CO
MERC TOPSKI
CORKSPITE M
SPICK METRO
SPERTICK NOM
KROMIC SPET
PRISCOM TEK
K PERSCO TIM
P STORM KICE
TK. SPICER MO
‘That mongrel—’ The expletives rolled into one as Finn stalked to the whiteboard, grabbed a marker, and scrawled two words in big block capitals:
PRIME STOCK
Finn’s chest heaved, nearly driving his finger through the wall as he pointed at those letters. ‘They’re all anagrams. Every single one of those company names spells the same thing—Prime Stock.’
It was another word game.
All those years of scribbling inside those damn word puzzle books, Finn saw Drew’s pattern—the man who loved those books and had introduced them to Finn, just like he’d done with Brodie only this morning.
But now the words felt like gravel tearing at his throat. ‘Drew’s not hiding behind the names. He’s laughing at us. Right in our bloody faces. Every company name is just another way of saying what he’s stealing: Prime Stock.’
The anger coiled low in his gut, rising sharp behind his ribs at this insult.
He turned to face the team. The ones who’d followed him. Trusted him. And now he had to force the words out. ‘I’m sorry. Not just for missing it, but for dragging you all into this. I thought I was building something good. Turns out I was handing Drew the tools instead.’
His jaw tightened as he looked each one of them in the eye. ‘If you want to walk, I’ll understand. I won’t stop you… But right now, I need you. All of you. Because I know exactly how to bring that mongrel down. And this time, we take everything with him.’
As the silence stretched, he didn’t blame them for being cautious. If he were in their position, he’d have bolted for that door too.
Then footsteps.
Taryn crossed the room, stood beside him and faced the team. ‘Having interviewed you all individually, I know you joined Finn because you believe in the mission. You stayed because you believe in the man… And you were right to.’
She gazed at Finn and somehow her voice softened. ‘This is the guy who rebuilt his life, who took a broken system and used it to protect what matters. Who gave this town a team worth trusting. So, if he’s standing, I’m standing. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help this team, and you, Finn.’
Finn didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Not with that knot in his throat.
Amara was already pushing her coffee aside with a determined nod, lighting up her trusty tablet. ‘Ready when you are, sir.’
Porter leaned back in his chair with a nod. ‘The Hellhound is fully fuelled to stir up the dust.’
Craig cracked his knuckles, lips twitching into a half-smile. ‘Point the way, Finn, you know I’ll always have your back, mate.’
‘You’ll need someone to make this work legal, if you’re going to take this prick down,’ said Izzy, dragging over all of Taryn’s paperwork. ‘I want him to pay for what he did to Meghan.’
Taryn nodded at Izzy
Stone muttered, ‘You know me, I’m always up to party, Bossman.’
Romy nodded, squirming in her seat as if full of nervous energy. ‘Tell me what I’m shooting at—’
They all looked at her.
‘With my cameras, obviously.’ She shrugged, sheepishly. ‘But I’ll fly whatever drone you need to make it happen.’
They were in. All of them.
And that knot in Finn’s chest… loosened. Just a little.
His voice, when it came, was low and gruff. And very Finn. ‘Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation?’
And the ultimate plan to bring down the Commissioner began.