The morning was bittersweet. The excitement of the demise of Tilly Devine was quelled by the devastating news that the sudden hero, Detective Lillian Armfield, had also been sent to meet her maker.
Sydney had an immediate target. Cody was new to the city. Nobody knew what to make of him, so nobody trusted him. He would go about his days, pleasant enough, though always working through the nights and sleeping most of the days.
Cody had raised Nick K’s name the previous day at a most inappropriate time. Some people mentioned a curious exchange between Cody and Tilly prior to her being revealed as a razor gang leader. Cody was called out for questioning.
There were protestations of innocence. He pleaded that his unfamiliarity in his new city doesn’t make him a criminal. It wasn’t enough for a traumatised population. Sydney wasn’t going to leave things to chance today. Where previous days turmoil lead to a mass of people facing accusations, today the citizens stood more united than ever.
Cody was not allowed to leave. He was approached by Britin, a local bear enthusiast, who put it to Cody, “If you’re not guilty, then who is?”. Cody pointed to Melissa, a pregnant woman; and she also became a target. It was noted that Melissa had been unusually quiet of recent times. Her dealings with people had been curt and her mind often preoccupied.The normal clamouring of an unsettled crowd continued throughout the day. There was palpable frustration toward certain citizens who appeared to be blasé with their attitude in dealing with a city in such disorder. But the Sydney collective kept focus on Cody and Melissa.
In the end, the waning fighting spirit Cody had left in him gave way to the mounting pressure and frenzy of the mob. He was lynched at the steps of Town Hall. Cody was an innocent townsfolk just trying to make his way in a new city.
As the streets began to empty and dusk faded into night, a policeman started his nightshift with a quiet routine patrol through Hyde Park. He had a spring in his step, and so seemingly excited by his thoughts that he didn’t notice the silent figures that emerged from the great shadow beneath the grand Moreton Bay Fig trees. The policeman was jumped from behind and thrown face down onto the ground, where he was pinned by more than one assailant. A woman’s voice demanded, “Search him”. Papers were found on his person with written reports of three people of interest, each stamped with “guilty” or “not guilty”. The woman spoke again, “Give me the blade”.
Those were the last words that Allan heard. His body was found the next morning, with horrific razor wounds, in a cold sticky pool of his own blood.
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