He drove fast, tailgating slower drivers until they gave way, venting his anger on the gearbox of the Ford and the civilians who slowed his passage. Robbie, strapped in beside him, held a huge, fluffy, pink bear. The boy seemed to enjoy the speed, miming driving gestures with his dirty little hands, making vroom vroom noises into the bear’s ear. The child needed a bath and a change of clothes, but he looked really happy. Who knew with fucken kids? Maggott had finally heard back from his bitch wife that morning. A text message, saying that it was Robbie’s birthday. Jesus. Nothing about when she was coming home. He had a feeling she’d dumped the kid on him and made a run for it. Forever. On his way to Bellwood South HQ, Maggott had stopped at a toy shop on Voortrekker. He’d wanted to get the kid something manly, like an action figure or a rugby ball. But no, the boy had seen this pink bear, and he wouldn’t leave without it. Maggott hoped he wasn’t going to grow up to be a bloody queer.
