Undercover 01


By Katzmarek.



Part 1


Detective Constable Warren Hastings tapped lightly on the door and waited for the answering 
grunt from inside. Detective Sergeant Ted Sperle was a man of little ceremony.


“Warren,” the Sergeant said as Hastings entered, “sit! I think I’ve pasted it all together.”


On a large whiteboard in the corner of the office was a bunch of photos of people, with green 
arrows and red writing, forming a rough circular pattern.


Tapping the top photo Sperle said,


“Mr. Big! Our man in Asia… does the purchasing and arranges transport… Mr. Pi Lee… or a 
dozen other alias.”


He tapped another photo.


“Our distributor… Jerry Hanlon… collects the gear… passes it on to the gangs for retailing to 
the customers, Ok? But,” he said, turning to Hastings, “we haven’t found our banker… till 
now!”


Triumphantly, Sperle tapped a third photo,


“Graham Treadwell…Gray for short… old associate of Hanlon’s… suddenly he’s got money 
to burn… buys a beachfront property… about a millions bucks worth… Testarossa in the 
driveway… money from where?”


“Lottery?” Hastings suggested, “old Aunt popped her clogs?”


“Bit convenient his old Aunt… and she leaves no paperwork either. Bank statements? Just a 
big dollop of cash from where?”


Sperle dropped a pile of paper down in front of Hastings.


“I’ve talked to drug intelligence and here’s how it’s done. The money doesn’t leave the 
country. He puts it into an onshore investment that is a front for Mr. Lee. It’s then laundered 
overseas as a legitimate foreign exchange transaction. Simple!”


“So there must be a record of him making the original transaction… to the front company,” 
Hastings told him.


“Nope, we haven’t found it, yet. We’ve had his phones tapped, Emails intercepted, Internet 
monitored, no, he’s a smart one this guy. Everything hand delivered, I bet. He must have other 
accounts under alias’s we know nothing about.”


“So, what’s the plan, sir?”


Sperle took a file out of the cabinet and flicked it open. It contained sheets of A4, each with a 
photo pinned to the corner.


“Warren, I want you to sort through these and find us a mole. They’re all recent graduates 
from Police College so they won’t be recognised.”


“You want someone on the inside?”


“Yes. Intelligence has given us a pretty good profile of Treadwell. Read through it and come 
up with a scenario. Get back to me ASAP. Hastings?”


Sperle leaned closer,


“We really need this guy. If we can put him away we can close down the whole show. I’m 
having my arse roasted by the Commissioner over this. They’re desperate for some bodies, 
understand?”


“I understand. Are you certain he’s our man?”


“My radar’s buzzing, Hastings. I want him in the bag, ok?”


“I get onto it,” the detective said as he left the office. 


Meanwhile, in another part of town, a red Ferrari pulled up outside an apartment block. Gray 
opened the door and walked towards the front lobby. He scanned the postboxes until he found 
number 61.


“Damn,” he said, “ right on the top floor and no bloody lifts.”


After ascending 6 flights of steps he, puffing, knocked on the door of number 61. The door 
opened and his friend punched him lightly on the arm.


“Gray! Good to see you, long time, no?”


“Hey Jerry!” he said, “what have you been up to?”


They walked into the apartment and Gray sat on an old sofa. Jerry Hanlon got them a couple 
of Castlemaine Bitters from the fridge and brought them back.


Although sporting a lot less hair, Jerry had changed little in 20 years. He was still lanky thin, 
which his tall frame exaggerated. His eyes were a startling blue and seemed to be looking 
right through you.


“So what are you drinking Aussie beer for?” Gray asked him, looking for a conversation 
opener.


“On sale,” he said, “ six bucks a dozen at the Supermarket. Is that your set of wheels?” he said 
nodding towards the window.


“Yeah! 1999 model.”


“Shit mate! You’ve been splashing out. I wouldn’t leave it there for long, though. At least not 
around here, the kids will key it… or worse. Fuck!” he said, opening the window.


“Hey Watson, keep your fucking hands off it or I’ll break your arse,” he shouted out down to 
the street.


“Let’s go for a drive,” Gray suggested.


“Good idea,” Jerry agreed.


The Ferrari sure turned heads, thought Jerry as they cruised through the city. He’d never been 
able to sneer at the peasants like this for a long time.


“Blow him away!” he urged Gray, as some youngster lined them up at the traffic lights.


“Nah, no point. Knowledge is everything, he knows it, I know it, so why bother proving it,” 
Gray replied, somewhat philosophically.


“Where’d get the brass for this anyway?” asked Jerry, “are you in the game?”


“All legal, mate. I just got lucky, that’s all.”


“Lucky! And some! Pass a bit of that luck over here. I could do with some.”


“So what have you been doing with yourself?” Gray asked.


“This and that, I get by.”


“I hear you did an 8 year stretch?”


“Yep, in ‘Remo. Cops set me up. 4kgs becomes 8, 10 tabs becomes 100, you know the story.”


“No, not me! I got busted about 10 years ago for an ounce or two. Just got off with a fine.”


“Lucky! They nailed me for trafficking.”


“I thought you had a lab?” Gray said in surprise.


“Yeah, that too! I was only supplying the know-how, others were doing the baking. I got 
caught on the premises so they stitched that one on me as well.”


“So you were baking, what? Home-bake heroin?”


“Well THEY were, I was just showing them how to do it.”


“So are you working?” asked Gray.


“Like I said, a bit of this and that.”


“Oh sure!”


“Hey! Who’s going to employ ME, man? I tell you, I know nothing but what I do… Y’know 
in ‘Remo, you’ve no idea what it was like. The two tribes man. The Blacks or the Dogs, 
you’re either with one or the other, no compromises. I kept the Blacks happy, I was their 
wholesaler. If they wanted cellphones, drugs, videos or whatever, I got them. That made me 
important to them and I survived. I was never touched, man, because I knew how to survive.
It’s all I know what to do, Gray so don’t fucking judge me. I don’t have a money tree, like 
you,” Jerry said, bristling.


“Simmer down, Jerry. We all make our choices in life.”


“Yeah, well I fucked up my life a long time ago.”




The next day, Detective Hastings walked purposefully into the briefing room with a file of 
papers under his arm. Sergeant Sperle and his chief, DS Harewood were the only ones 
present.


“What have you got, Hastings?” asked Sperle.


“Three options, sir. One, Jessica Patricia Dayshe, graduated in the last draft, 22, here’s a 
photo.”


Sperle stared at the photo for a while.


“Ok, she’s a babe, what’s your plan?”


“Crossword puzzles.”


“Eh?” 


Sperle looked at his boss, a little abashed.


“Every weekday morning our subject has morning tea at the… Rainbow Café… where he 
does the crossword puzzle… never fails.”


“So?”


“So, sir, have you ever seen crossword puzzlers together? They can’t help asking each other 
for clues. There’s our contact situation. WPC Dayshe is a crossword puzzler. She sits at a 
nearby table and asks Treadwell for a clue.”


Sperle looked again at his chief, embarrassed.


“That it?” he asked Hastings.


“Dayshe sir… well she… I mean, from what I’ve got from intelligence, she’s definitely the 
type that would appeal to Treadwell, sir.”


“So! She appeals to me too. That doesn’t mean she can get under Treadwell’s guard,” said 
Sperle, “these guys are smart, Hastings… and dangerous. If you’re correct,” he went on, “then 
we’re putting her in a potentially harmful situation…”


“Can you manage the situation?” asked the Chief, interrupting.


“Yes sir! She will be wired and we will have a couple of armed Officers on standby… if it 
gets out of hand,” answered Hastings.


“It’s risky,” said Sperle. “If Treadwell discovers the tap, she’ll be toast. Hastings, you know 
what these guys are like.”


“Has Treadwell a history of violence?” asked Harewood.


“Not that we know of,” replied Sperle, “ But…”


“Then I think we should go ahead,” The Chief said.


“Sir, but…”


“Ted, I do the crossword every morning too. I think this could work providing all precautions 
are taken.”


“Yes sir,” resigned Sperle, somewhat ungraciously.




Jessica Dayshe, Jess to her friends, had wanted to join the Police since she was a little girl. 
Her father had been a policeman, and his father, it was a family tradition.


At school she’d been a grade A student and a top athlete. She could have chosen any career 
but she never doubted her future profession.


At 5’ 8”, slim, and blessed with ‘pretty’ features, she’d entered and won the local beauty 
contest. She’d been talked into it by her friends and did it out of curiosity. 


She was a very competitive person. At school she’d ‘pulled’ the head boy just because all the 
girls lusted after him. Having got him, she just as quickly dropped him, he’d turned out to be a 
jerk, anyhow.


In fact Jess had a pretty good life, so far. If she’d change anything, it would be her luck with 
men. She’d struck a long line of arseholes since she began dating. Either they treated her as a 
piece of goods to be manhandled at whim, or they were terrified of her.


Jess decided she really didn’t need a man in her life and, anyhow, her fingers were far more 
reliable. The problem with a cock was that it came attached to a man. 


She lived in a police flat with Christine, a fellow, newly graduated cop. Chris, unlike Jess, had 
lots of boyfriends, all young policemen.


On graduation day, Chris had even fucked two at once. She’d brought one home for her but 
she didn’t want him so Chris had taken both of them to bed. Their performance through the 
thin walls of Chris’s room kept Jess awake until 3 in the morning when, at last, everyone fell 
asleep, apparently exhausted.


Jess wasn’t very impressed with Gray’s picture, pinned to the file. He looked to be pushing 
forty with thinning hair and the stubble of a not quiet completed beard.


To Jess, he looked like a history teacher with, perhaps a liking for underage girls. Certainly 
not like a dangerous major-player in a drug cartel.


Jess was excited about her assignment. This was what she’d imagined police work was like. 
Getting out there at the coalface and catching the bad guys.


She hated drugs and the damage they did to people, especially the young and vulnerable. Most 
of all she loathed the suppliers and the dealers that pushed their wicked stuff onto the kids.


Also, Jess mused, it wouldn’t do her career in the police any harm at all if she got the goods 
on this guy and put him away.


“We need some names and dates,” Sperle had told her, “specifically the name of the company 
through which he launders the drug money. Don’t be too pushy, though. Get to know him, get 
him to trust you, catch him with his guard down.”


“Will… will I have to… sleep with him?” she’d asked nervously.


Sperle had shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He answered,


“No, of course not. He may… um… become insistent. Y’know how men are… But I’m sure 
you can fend him off… We will be monitoring you at all times and we will pull you out if 
things become… unmanageable, ok?”


Jess took a deep breath and nodded.


“Good! You will have another four days of training then we’ll start the operation next week, 
ok?”


“Yes sir,” answered Jess.





The marijuana had relaxed Jess, in fact she was so relaxed she couldn’t move. Gray was 
beside her, groping her breast and she couldn’t move to stop him. 


Somehow her top was open and his mouth was on her naked tit, suckling and biting he nipple. 
He moved her hand onto his erection and it felt enormous. It burned into the palm of her hand, 
so hot and urgent.


Then his pants were open and he was sitting astride her chest. He was rubbing that enormous 
weapon all over her chest. He was laughing and stabbing at her face with the thing.


“Stop,” she tried to say, “don’t… No!”


But her voice sounded weak. It seemed to say to him, ‘ more,’ and, ‘go ahead.’


Then she was on the bed. She tried to move but her wrists were chained to the bed head with 
handcuffs. 


Gray grinning face loomed over her.  He was squirting her with what seemed like maple 
syrup. He giggled maniacally as he bent down to lick the sticky substance of her. His tongue 
felt like a cat’s on Jess’s skin, all rough, like sandpaper. He bit and licked her all over.


He smeared some of the syrup on his cock and, holding her head, pushed it into her mouth. 
The sickly-sweet tasting penis filled her mouth, her lips stretching over the girth. As he 
pushed his thing in and out of her mouth, Jess thought she was going to choke.


Then his fingers were pushing their way up her vagina, sending little sparks of feeling 
exploding within her abdomen.


Next, he had a knife, an evil looking serrated thing about a foot long. Gray was dragging it all 
over her chest. She could feel the touch of the cold steel on her skin through the sticky mess 
on her chest. 


Then she looked down and saw that the mess was her own blood.


“NO!” she screamed, “DON’T!”


The knife was now poised at her vagina. Gray lowered it and dragged the point down her slit. 
As he pulled the blade back he gripped it in a stabbing fashion.


Jess screamed. 


Hands were shaking her and a woman’s voice was calling her name.


“Jess, Jess, wake up!”


Jess woke up, bathed in sweat. Chris was standing over her in her nightie, a concerned look 
on her face.


“Jess, you were having a nightmare,” she said.


Jess looked at her, confused and panting in fear. 


“My god, Jess, are you alright?” asked her flatmate.


“Yes… sorry…”


Chris hugged her friend to her chest as she began to cry.





Two days later, Jess agreed to a date. A fellow officer called Brian had been pestering her 
since Police College to go out with her and hitherto she’d turned him down.


Chris told her that, ‘ he was just right for her,’ but Jess knew he wasn’t. She decided she 
needed a good time and he was just as good as anybody.


After the pub and a dance it was back to the flat and bed. All night Brian had been trying to 
impress her, futilely. Instead of the quiet introspective Brian she knew, he was loud and brash, 
particularly after a few drinks.


He was no great shakes in bed either. Sure! He was vigorous enough, but he was in a hurry 
and kept asking her if she was ‘alright’. It annoyed her and she didn’t come.


About half an hour later he leaned over to suck her tit, indicating he was ready to go again, 
but this time she’d lost interest. Nevertheless, Jess opened her legs for him and tried to sound 
enthusiastic as he humped away.


Afterwards, she found herself stroking his ball sac. ‘He has nice balls,’ she concluded, ‘kind 
of soft and feathery to the touch.’ She liked the feel of a man’s balls.


Brian, however, got the wrong idea and turned over. When he began to grab her breast again 
she pushed him away. She’d had enough.


It was cramped in her bed, so Jess grabbed a blanket and went to sleep on the sofa in the 
lounge.




Hastings suggested Jess take Chris along to the Rainbow Café a little after Gray took his 
normal table. She was not to make contact, yet, but to have a look around and familiarise 
herself with the venue, and the target.


Hastings drove them pass the café to check that Gray was there and found, to their 
disappointment, he was not alone.


“He’s with Hanlon,” the detective said, “don’t speak to him. Just let him get used to you being 
there. You’re two girlfriends meeting over coffee. No heroics, understand?”


The girls nodded and got out of the car. 


They took a table near the door with a good view of the two men. Jess noticed they sat near 
the wall speaker that was playing a local radio station. ‘Perhaps they’re being careful in case 
their conversation was being recorded,’ Jess thought.


She saw that the two men were about the same age. Hanlon was tall and thin with his greying 
hair worn long in a ponytail. He was dressed in a faded blue denim jacket and jeans.


Treadwell was tidier. Shorter than Hanlon, nevertheless his frame was spare and his long 
blond hair was loose about his shoulders. He wore a navy polar fleece top and blue printed 
jeans. Jess spotted the gold band of an expensive watch on his wrist. On his other wrist, he 
wore a gold chain.


“What a couple of relics,” Chris told her in a hushed voice.


Jess shushed her friend.


“They can’t overhear us,” Chris said.


“Maybe not, but let’s just have a normal girlie conversation, ok? I’m feeling a bit freaked 
out.”


“Sure,” Chris said, “so how was Brian?”


“Don’t ask.”


“Then what CAN I talk about?” complained Chris.


“Shopping.”


“Ok.”


Across from the policewomen, Hanlon leaned in towards Gray.


“See those two chicks over towards the door?”


Gray looked over towards Jess and Chris.


“Yeah?”


“Cops,” said Hanlon.


“You’re kidding,” replied Gray, “ how do you know.”


“Well, everyone here has a story, right. Two businessmen in the corner are meeting to discus 
a deal. The lady over by the wall is having a break from shopping with a chocolate éclair and 
a cream bun. She’s feeling naughty, Ooo,”


Jerry shivered mockingly.


“Everyone has a purpose, but those two. Watch how they talk… they’re play-acting, they’re 
putting it on. There’s no real communication between them… watch!”


Gray looked across at the two girls. He saw they were plainly nervous, their eyes darted about 
and their faces appeared frozen.


“Ok,” Gray told his friend, “they look freaked about something. That doesn’t make them cops 
though. I haven’t seen them in here before. They might be feeling nervous about being in a 
strange café.”


“They use newly graduated recruits from the college. So they won’t be known to the ‘crims’,” 
Jerry went on, “but you can spot them a mile away. You’d think the boss cops would have 
learned a thing or two.”


“Jerry, you’re getting paranoid,” Gray said.


“Maybe, but to stay out of the can, and stay alive, I need to be.”


“What a life, Jerry,” replied Gray, shaking his head.


Across from them Jess and Chris tried to make conversation but the situation was too strange.


“The blond one keeps looking at us,” Chris said.


“That’s Gray Treadwell,” Jess told her, “my target.”


“I think he likes you.”


Jess put two fingers in her mouth and pretended to gag.


“The other guy looks kind of cute,” Chris said, “ maybe we can double date them.”


“What!” said Jess, in mock outrage, “ a couple of drug smugglers?”


“I like my men a little dangerous,” Chris said, smirking, “ a bit of roughage now and then is 
good for the digestion.”


“Finish your coffee, Chris, before you make me throw up.”


Gray watched the two women get up and leave. He watched their jeans covered bottoms sway 
out the door and licked his lips.


‘Nah, too cute to be cops,’ he told himself.


Part 2 follows.
© Katzmarek.








 









