Dead Heat, page 22
Riggs offered her a chair, then leaned back in his own, his jacket falling open to reveal a popped button above his waistband and some red hairs poking through. He said, ‘How’s life treating you, then?’
Georgia declined to respond. The last thing she felt like was making small talk with him.
‘What about Danny boy? He’s been seeing a bit of you, I gather.’ His eyes latched back on to her breasts. ‘I can sure see why.’
‘What do you want with me?’
‘The Chief wants to ask you some questions. About that fracas in Brizzy. Sounds like you started a war down there. You want to tell me what happened?’
A mobile started ringing somewhere and when nobody answered it, she realised it was hers. Lunging for her backpack, she yanked the thing out and answered.
‘How’s tricks?’
Her heart gave a leap and she hurriedly turned away from Riggs, ducking her head and pressing the receiver hard against her ear.
‘Er . . . I’m at the police station, actually. In Cairns.’
‘You going to be long?’
‘No idea. Apparently the Chief wants to ask me some questions.’
Pause.
‘What about?’
‘Oh, something that happened earlier today.’
‘Must’ve been mighty big to catch the Chief’s eye. He’s an important bloke, all up. You okay?’
She was surprised by the anxiety in his tone, and even more surprised by her reaction. A rush of tenderness for his concern, which she immediately put down to feeling vulnerable at the day’s events.
‘Fine.’
Another pause.
‘Listen up. I think I know where your mother is.’
She bolted upright in her chair. ‘What?’
‘Get yourself back up to Nulgarra quick-smart, okay?’
‘Yes, yes, but where is she, are you saying she’s—’
‘I’m going to do a recce tonight. Check the place out. If I can, I’ll grab her. Okay with you?’
‘God, absolutely, definitely, but be careful, won’t you, please?’
‘Cautious as a leopard, cunning as a snake.’
Before she could give him a message for her mother, he’d hung up.
Trembling with excitement, she pushed her phone back into her backpack. Lee had found her mother! She and Mum could be flying out tomorrow, away from all this mayhem, away from the Chens!
‘Good news?’ Riggs asked.
‘Oh, a friend’s just had a baby.’ She smiled brilliantly at him.
His expression had turned peculiarly withdrawn.
‘It’s a little girl,’ she added firmly for good measure.
‘My boy was a premmie. Nearly died.’ He opened a drawer and took out a photograph and showed it to her. A smiling, remarkably handsome woman in blue was holding a strapping toddler in her arms. ‘Looks just like me, eh? Bit podgy, but handsome as hell.’ He was beaming from ear to ear.
Startled at this sudden change from bullying cop to proud parent, she was about to say, ‘How lovely’, or something along those lines, when he snatched the photo and shoved it back inside the drawer.
‘Heard from our friend Lee lately?’ he asked.
Her skin tightened but she kept her face bland.
‘Why are you so interested in Lee?’ she responded. ‘I mean, I know he’s a people-smuggler, but you all seem so hell-bent on finding him, I’m starting to wonder if there isn’t something else.’
‘Danny boy hasn’t told you?’
‘Well, no, not really.’
He flicked another look at her breasts. ‘Guess I can understand that.’
She resisted the urge to grind her teeth and said again, ‘Why do you want Lee?’
‘To tear his head off and stick it on a pole, that’s why. If it wasn’t for Lee, Sergeant Tatts would still be alive. Sodding Lee.’
Heart thumping, she said, ‘He killed a cop?’
‘Too bloody right. Greedy bastard, Lee. Do anything for a buck. He was brought up like a Chinese, you know, by some ancient old hag. Believe me, you can’t trust him further than you can throw your average Chinaman.’
He checked the drawer with the photograph of his family was shut, as though protecting them against what he was about to say, before leaning forward in his chair.
‘Years ago, the powers that be thought it was a brilliant idea to take this thug off the streets and make him a copper because he had a white father, some bigwig swanky lawyer in Hong Kong, and because he spoke fluent Cantonese and Mandarin. They regretted it big time when he tipped the Red Bamboo Gang off about Tatts.’
Georgia felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘Lee’s a policeman?’
‘Was a fucking policeman. A fucking joke, the whole thing. He’d been transferred from Hong Kong to work with our feds to plug the illegal immigrants and was working for the other side the whole fucking time. No wonder we never caught any bloody boats with him tipping the RBG off.’
Her voice was faint as she said, ‘You said he killed a cop.’
‘Yeah. Not personally, but there’s not a whole lot of difference. He may as well have pulled the trigger himself. Tatts had been working undercover on the biggest drug deal we’d seen in the past decade, pretending to be the broker between the RBG and a buyer. It was all set up. Tatts had the money. Jason Chen and his father the drugs. We were going to nail the two top honchos of the RBG, and then fucking Lee dobbed Tatts in.’
Sucking on his small milk teeth briefly, he continued. ‘Tatts vanished four hours before the rendezvous. Jason Chen wanted to make a statement to us cops, to make sure none of us would go undercover against them again. So he chopped off all the sergeant’s fingers and toes with secateurs, you know, those garden shears? Then he dumped Tatts on a rubbish tip just out of town . . . to bleed to death.’
Appalled, Georgia sat there and stared at him.
‘You know the worst thing?’
Numbly, she shook her head.
‘Tatts was Lee’s fucking partner.’
He slammed his palm down on to the table, making everyone in the room pause and look up.
‘What do we think of Lee Denham?’ he roared into the room.
‘Arsehole!’ someone yelled, followed by, ‘Shoot the fucker!’ and ‘Waste of fucking space!’
‘He’s not a popular man,’ added Riggs, looking gratified. ‘If we see Lee, we’ll nail him to the wall and—’
‘Riggs, put a sock in it,’ a man said wearily behind her. ‘You’re like a stuck record.’
The room fell quiet. Riggs’s expression turned formal as he looked over her shoulder. ‘Chief.’
‘Miz Parish, sorry about that. If you’d like to join me.’
Stunned, Georgia had to make an extreme effort to appear in control of her limbs as she got to her feet. Lee was an ex-cop. That explained the slight military aura, his knowing who Riggs and his sidekick were when they’d questioned her about the intruder at Mrs Scutchings’s house. And he knew Daniel. Sweet Jesus. He was a cop who had betrayed a fellow policeman to suffer a terrible death. His partner.
‘I’m Chief Inspector Harris.’
She turned round to discover a tall man with a close-cut white beard. Very distinguished, almost patriarchal, with pink cheeks and a gentle smile. Aware her palm was cold and sweaty, she surreptitiously wiped it on her trousers before shaking, but as she glanced up she saw he’d caught her doing it. The smile turned sympathetic.
‘Not everyone feels comfortable in police stations,’ he said kindly. ‘I’ve just a few questions, then I’ll let you be on your way.’ A nod at Riggs, who nodded back, and then he ushered her into a room next door.
‘My office. We might be able to hear ourselves think in here, not like next door. They seem to be under the mistaken impression that if they shout, things get done faster.’
The Chief’s office had the same high ceiling but was tiny in comparison to the enormous squad room. Three walls were taken up with folders, books and journals, and his desk was a clutter of paper. He sat behind the desk, Georgia took the battered armchair in front.
‘I heard them slagging Lee off,’ he remarked casually, but she could see the tension at the corners of his mouth. ‘I should be used to it, but some days . . . I liked Lee a lot, and although he betrayed me and my men . . .’ He ran a hand over his beard and glanced away. ‘We were all very . . . ah, close to Sergeant Tatts.’
Lifting a pen from his desk, he rolled it between his fingers like a cigar. Sudden vision of Lee smoking. Lee who had told her he knew where her mother was. Her own personal hawk. A hawk every cop wanted to see shot from the skies with an Exocet missile.
‘You want to tell me what happened in Brisbane?’
‘Um . . .’ She didn’t know where to start, or rather, how to start lying. She had to in order to protect Jon and Lee, and keep her mother safe.
‘My Brisbane colleagues were seriously unimpressed with your sudden exit from their city. Hence calling us to pick you up once they knew you were on a plane to Cairns.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘You gave them a run for their money, I gather, but thankfully nobody got hurt, which is what counts.’
She couldn’t work out how the cops knew it was her at Quantum Research, nor the chain of events that had led the Chens to Jon. She frantically backtracked over the past twenty-four hours, trying to think who knew where she was going. As far as she could recall, only India knew about Brisbane, and then her brain jumped a little further back. Paul Zhong. Paul had told her about the lab in Brisbane. And who knew about Paul Zhong? Sergeant Daniel Carter, that’s who. Who was also a cop.
We have friends in the police.
Spider.
Dear God, who had Daniel told about her seeing Paul Zhong?
‘I was going to go back and talk to them,’ she offered weakly.
He gave a dry chuckle. ‘Sure you were.’
‘It’s just that I was visiting a friend, you see. And then suddenly the fire alarm went off . . . and shots were fired. I didn’t know what on earth was going on, I just wanted to get the hell out, to be honest.’
‘And your friend is Wang Mingjun. Jon Ming.’
She dithered briefly, then admitted, ‘Yes.’
‘Where is he now?’ He arched a pair of thick white eyebrows, pen poised above a yellow legal pad as though to take down Jon’s address. ‘Well?’
‘Why do you want him?’
‘Several reasons. One, to fill in the gaps. We know he’s considered a valuable commodity by the Red Bamboo Gang. We’d like to talk to him. See who he knows, maybe get a new trail into the RBG.’
‘You know about . . . what they’re researching?’
‘Oh, yes.’
Jon being questioned by the police wasn’t an option. For all she knew, he’d end up in a detention centre like Paul Zhong and his family, an illegal immigrant with no rights, so she said, ‘He dropped me off at the airport, then left. I don’t know where he’s gone.’
The Chief put down his pen, frowning. ‘His bike was found outside departures. He flew to Sydney, we’ve got that far, but we don’t know where he’s headed.’
I won’t tell you, she thought. I won’t, not until Jon’s met with the AMA and is a citizen of Australia, so help me God.
He sent her a look of compassion. ‘I understand you must feel a strong bond with Jon Ming, having been with his sister in the air crash, but we really need to find him. For his own good. We want to protect him. From what we can gather, the RBG want to haul him back to China. It’s my guess he doesn’t particularly want to return there. And we don’t want him to either. He’s extremely valuable to us. As I’m sure you can appreciate.’
In the distance she heard a horn beep and the distinctive chatter of a parrot.
‘We want to help Jon. He’s in danger. After the morning’s events, surely you can see that?’
She could, and she honestly wanted to help Jon too, but the thought of Spider . . . They sit in their webs and pull the strings they want.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know where he is now.’ Which was true. He could be in a taxi, in a restaurant, in the AMA’s offices, caught in a traffic jam on the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
Long pause while the Chief spun his pen on his legal yellow pad.
‘If we had Jon Ming, then we would have the RBG. We could set something up. Catch them unawares.’
And use Jon as a hostage, like the Chens had her mother? she thought. You must be joking. He’d get doughnut withdrawal. He may be a fat bastard who reeks of nicotine, but at least he’s a fat bastard who rides a motorbike like a demon, even with a sack of potatoes on the back. Besides, Cookie needs him. Poor darling’s in the pound.
Another lengthy pause. The Chief dropped his pen, leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers on his beard. He looked at her hard.
‘Sergeant Carter tells me he thinks you might be in touch with Lee.’
The skin tightened all over her body at the realisation that Daniel could obviously see through her like a pane of glass. What else had she given away? She hadn’t thought she was that transparent.
‘And I think he could be right. However, I’m also thinking things are a lot more complicated than you’re letting on . . . But we’re here to help you. And we can’t do that unless you help us. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. And . . . thank you.’
‘Do you know where Lee is?’
‘No.’ Not exactly, anyway. Just that he’s in Nulgarra somewhere and about to rescue my mother.
‘Rumour has it he’ll be sailing soon. On his yacht, Songtao.’ He shot her a look she couldn’t quite read. Half-curious, half-wary. ‘Do you know how the boat got her name?’
She shook her head, wondering where this was leading.
‘Songtao means “waves of pines”, the sound the wind makes when it blows through a pine forest. Apparently there was such a forest where his grandmother used to take him when he was a child. In China, roots are incredibly important, so he named his boat Songtao, in memory of his grandmother, the person he grew up with.’
‘How on earth,’ she said faintly, ‘did you find that out?’
‘Guangxi,’ he said, fiddling some more with his pen. ‘It’s a debt of favours the Chinese use. Put it this way, Riggs was owed a favour. Got put in touch with a boat captain in Fuling who told him the story. We know a lot about Lee.’
She wasn’t sure why he’d repeated it to her, but thought he might be trying to gain her trust by showing her some police work and the trouble they were taking to get to Lee.
‘If you hear from Lee,’ he said, ‘tell him I’d like a chat, would you?’
Get in the queue, she thought, but said, ‘Sure.’
‘And what about Jason Chen and his father? Seen them lately?’
‘Who?’ she said, injecting her tone with doubt.
She watched the Chief exhale fractionally. He hadn’t expected her to know the Chens, she realised, just chucked a baited line out in the faint hope she might bite.
‘Oh, a couple of miscreants,’ said the Chief. He scribbled something on his pad, but she wasn’t much good at reading upside down and couldn’t see what he’d written unless she craned really obviously.
‘Just to reiterate,’ he said, putting the pen down and looking up, ‘my main priorities are to find Jon Ming, to protect him, and to find Lee.’
No can do, she thought.
As if he had heard her thoughts, the Chief suddenly leaned forward. ‘If I find you’ve been obstructing police business and withholding information . . .’
His tone was deceptively soft, but she got the message.
Georgia left the police station feeling in need of another stiff drink.
Thirty
‘No wonder you’re rattled. Talk about walking a bloody tightrope. I wish you’d let me in from the start.’
Georgia wished she had too. India hadn’t lunged for her phone since she’d confessed, or pulled out a microphone and shoved it in her face. After she’d met Georgia in police reception and bundled her into her ute outside, looking over her shoulder the entire time as though expecting the cop shop to erupt with armed police at any second, she’d simply started the car and shot away saying, ‘What the hell is going on? For God’s sake, spill the beans, will you? I promise I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul, unless you want me to.’ Georgia had looked at her, and India had solemnly crossed her heart with a long brown finger. ‘Hope to die,’ she’d added.
So Georgia told her everything. Everything she could remember, that was. The cops and their hatred of Lee; Yumuru and Suzie and the antibiotic; Daniel, Tilly and Dutch. Her mum. It was as if a dam had broken. God, what a relief to spill it all out.
They were halfway to Nulgarra when she stopped talking. Her mouth was dry and India reached behind and into her rear seat pocket, pulling out a litre bottle of Evian. ‘Never travel without at least ten of these suckers,’ she said. ‘Never know when you’re going to break down and I don’t ever want to go thirsty.’
Georgia had a long drink, then recapped the bottle and laid it along her thighs.
‘So Lee’s going to break your mum out tonight?’
‘I hope so.’
India stepped on the gas when the road broadened, stretching between grasses the colour of flax like a long black snake that had been flattened by a giant boot.
‘What’s this bloke’s name again? The one on the bike from Quantum Research?’
‘Jon Ming. Wang Mingjun. He’s Suzie’s brother, and—’
‘That rings a bell. What’s her name? Her Chinese name?’
‘Wang Mingshu.’
A Toyota Hilux pulled out from a side road ahead and India jammed her foot on the brakes.
‘Hey, India, take it easy, will you?’
‘Say her name again?’
‘Wang Mingshu.’
‘Wang Mingshu?’ India repeated. ‘You don’t happen to know the name of their father?’
Georgia thought a bit. ‘Wang . . . Pak Man, I think. But Jon said he’s known as Patrick Wang.’
