Dead Heat, page 8
‘I’d better be getting on. Please, call in any time you want.’ Jill Hodges touched her shoulder briefly, then left.
Georgia’s hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. ‘Jesus, Bri.’
‘Georgia.’ Bri’s voice was faint and slightly slurred, barely discernible.
‘Bri?’
She bent close and smelled the stench of sickness on his breath, but she didn’t draw away. She watched his eyelids fluttering. They opened. She tried not to look appalled. There was no white in his eyes at all. They were filled with blood.
‘Fuck ’em,’ he said.
Not knowing how to respond, she settled for a firm, ‘Right.’
‘They fucked with my plane. The fucks.’
A frisson ran through her, as though someone had dropped a skink down the back of her T-shirt.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Fucked my plane,’ he repeated.
Georgia saw that his blood-clotted eyes were engorged with rage.
‘Are you saying it was sabotaged?’
‘Damn right. Find ’em for me.’ Bri made a gasping noise, then, ‘Bloody well kill ’em.’
‘I’m not sure about that, Bri. Not my sort of—’
‘I’ll kill ’em.’
‘I don’t know if—’
‘Georgia!’ It was a hiss and Georgia knew that if he could, Bri would be shouting at the top of his voice. ‘Promise!’
‘Okay, okay.’ Her hands were raised and she realised she was drenched in sweat. ‘I promise.’
Bri closed his eyes briefly and for a second Georgia thought the effort had made him pass out, but then they opened again. ‘Swear it, Georgia. For me. And for Suzie.’
She barely hesitated. ‘I swear it, Bri. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
The silence was filled with the rattle of a passing trolley outside. She gave him a minute or so then said softly, ‘You did a great job getting us down. Lee says so too. I just saw him. He said thanks.’
Bri didn’t respond. His breathing was loud and rasping. Quietly she told him that she’d had her hand stitched, but otherwise she was okay, that she’d talked with the police that morning, how juicy her oysters had been, and how Lee hadn’t a clue about the wildlife up here. After a while she fell silent.
The minutes ticked past. Bri didn’t move.
‘I’ll come back later. This afternoon. Keep checking up on you.’
She waited a few more seconds. Bri remained motionless. As she walked through the door and down the corridor towards reception, her legs felt unsteady, her mind filled with the vision of the diminished figure in his hospital bed. Head down, chest tight with repressed tears, she nearly collided with two Chinese men coming around the corner.
She was opening her mouth to apologise, then stopped: She thought she recognised one of them. The stocky figure, the flat black hair. But when she looked again, it wasn’t her intruder after all, just a man with his friend, visiting a patient.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered.
The bigger man ignored her, but the smaller one in a leather jacket spat on the ground as he passed.
Jesus, she thought, turning to stare after them. Talk about unhygienic. Revolting.
*
Back on the main street outside the hospital, Georgia paused. The sky was still a heavy grey, filled with towering cumulonimbus, the atmosphere stifling. Brushing sweat from her temple, she reckoned her mother would have arrived by now and decided to head back to Mrs Scutchings’s house. She hadn’t bought any fish, but since her mother loved oysters too, they wouldn’t starve so long as Mick’s was open. She watched a ute splash past, laden with cartons of soft drinks, and saw the Fanta logo, and a drink she hadn’t heard of before, Twango, which she took to be a combination of mango and . . . What? God, she’d be no good at marketing, she couldn’t even work out what new soft drink it was.
She heard footsteps behind her, and a male voice said, ‘Are you okay?’
Daniel Carter caught her up.
‘I’m fine.’ She gave him the bright smile of reassurance she had perfected over the days preceding Tom’s funeral.
‘You saw Bri?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s not doing so well, I hear.’
‘No.’
Fighting against the knot of emotion inside her, she concentrated on a bunch of Aboriginal boys walking down Ocean Street, laughing as they ducked one another’s mock blows. Two emaciated mongrels were tagging along beside them. Despite their mangy appearance, their tails were high and their steps springy.
‘I’m sorry.’
As Daniel turned to track the boys’ progress, she felt his shoulder touch hers. He moved away at the same time she did. She heard him clear his throat.
Shoving her hands into her pockets, she said, ‘You ought to know. Lee told me our airplane was sabotaged.’
Daniel stiffened. ‘Sabotaged?’
‘Bri reminded me’ – she couldn’t look at him while she lied – ‘that Lee said something after the crash. When we were up there. I mean, I forgot, with everything going on, you know, Lee dragging Bri from the aircraft, his legs on fire, then Suzie dying . . . Did I tell you she smelled of jasmine? I wasn’t sure if it was perfume or just the way she smelled, maybe her soap, but it was so pretty, so sweet, and when Bri—’
‘Hey, slow down.’ Daniel was holding his hands up, looking stricken. ‘Take a breath.’
She did as she was told. Tried not to think about the fact that she was lying to the police.
‘Just before the paramedics arrived, Lee told me he saw something had been tampered with when he went to put the engine fire out. A wire-lock.’
‘I thought the airplane ran out of fuel.’ Daniel was frowning. ‘That’s what the initial report says, anyway. That you’d run out of juice and had a fire in the engine bay.’
‘That’s what Bri said when we went down,’ she agreed, ‘but it was Lee who saw something once we’d crashed.’
‘Jesus.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Who, apart from Lee, thinks it was sabotage?’
‘Bri. He told me just now.’
‘Right.’ Daniel glanced past her as a Nissan ute trundled past, two blue heelers hanging over the tailgate, thick fur ruffled and tongues lolling.
A bead of sweat worked its way down his cheek and he wiped it away. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of a possible sabotage. If it’s true, I’d better alert the Air Accident Investigators. Get them to pick the wreckage over.’ He turned to her. ‘I really need to talk to Lee. Get it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, to know exactly what he saw.’
Georgia remained silent, praying he wouldn’t ask her if she’d seen Lee. She was sure he’d see the barefaced lie lit like neon on her face.
‘You fancy a coffee?’ he asked suddenly, a definite sparkle in his vivid blue eyes. ‘The National does a great Irish. I think you might need one after the past forty-eight hours. I certainly do.’
Her teenage self nearly fell over. Daniel Carter, inviting her for coffee! But the adult took over, and cautioned her to say no, in case he pressed her about Lee. Besides, her mother would be waiting for her at Mrs Scutchings.
Georgia looked at his hair sticking up as though he’d just got out of bed. ‘Sounds great,’ she said. She’d ring her mother from the National.
*
They were halfway down the street, discussing why Nulgarra hadn’t invested in a new community centre since the decrepit old one was home to three families of fruit bats as well as having half the rainforest growing across its roof, when a black Mercedes cruised past and stopped fifty yards ahead of them in a cul-de-sac. Three Asian men climbed out.
Two of them leaned against the flank of their car, smoking. The third walked past them without looking their way. All wore reflective sunglasses despite the fact it was overcast. Georgia glanced up and down the street to see it was empty. No young kids or their dogs, nor a single car driving along. She felt the hairs at the back of her neck rise.
As they approached, the two men pushed themselves from the Merc and walked towards them. They were smiling. Daniel stopped short. ‘Do you know these blokes?’
She thought the larger one might be the man she’d nearly collided with in hospital, but wasn’t sure.
‘No.’
‘Me neither.’ His hands hung loosely at his sides. ‘Start walking, Georgia. The other way.’
Georgia didn’t hesitate. She spun on her heel and set a brisk pace. Her heart was hammering. She glanced over her shoulder and saw, to her horror, the two men lunge at Daniel. Daniel threw a punch at one and caught him on the chin, which made him fly backwards, but before he could attack again, the second had drawn back his leg and kicked him hard in the groin. Daniel staggered and fell to his knees.
‘Daniel!’ she yelled, and sprinted for him.
He was groaning, trying to get up, when the first man kicked him in the head. Daniel went down like a stone. She was yelling his name when someone grabbed her and punched her just below her diaphragm.
She doubled up and collapsed on the pavement. Another blow landed deep in her ribs, another in her midriff. She groaned and vomited. She tried to get her face out of the vomit but her head was pressed against cement. She was gasping, struggling for air, sucking in vomit through her nose and mouth.
She thought she heard her name being yelled. Oddly, she thought it was Lee, but the next instant her ear exploded, erupted into a single giant bloom of pain. It blossomed into crimson, then black.
Twelve
Georgia’s consciousness crawled awake. She was lying in the corner of a dimly lit room. Vaguely she registered dusty floorboards, bare walls with cracked and peeling paint, a handful of chairs behind a big wooden table.
She saw a Chinese man sitting behind the table. Her eyes latched on to him. She wanted to speak to him, but as she lifted her head, he rose and left the room. She could smell cooking, and hear a television blaring, along with the chatter of Thai or Chinese, she couldn’t tell, and the clanging of a metal pot.
Cautiously, she struggled to her knees, holding her bandaged hand protectively across her waist. A stab of pain sliced through her ribs and she bent double, retching drily. She wiped the trickle of spittle from her mouth with the back of her right hand. She made it to her feet and started to shuffle for the door. She stopped when it opened.
Four men entered the room. One placed a small black backpack on the table and sat down. He wore a black leather jacket over a white T-shirt. She recognised him as the man who had spat on the floor at the hospital. Another sat beside him, older, dressed in a suit. The others, large, bulky men in jeans and shirts, stood side by side against the wall, their arms folded. With the window behind them, she couldn’t make out any of their features, only their silhouettes.
In what she took to be Chinese, the Suit said something to the one in the leather jacket. His voice carried the deep tones of a heavy smoker.
Leather Jacket finally looked at her. ‘Where is Lee Denham?’
Her breathing was jerky, her mind spinning.
‘Where is he?’
‘I d-don’t know.’
He looked at the Suit, then back at her. The Suit lit a cigarette, barked a question. Dimly she took in the broad gap between his two front teeth, stained brown with nicotine.
‘And Mingshu?’
‘Who?’
‘Suzie Wilson.’
‘She died in a plane accident.’
Leather Jacket strode forward and that was when she saw the letters stitched on the T-shirt beneath his jacket: ‘Windsurfers Do It Standing Up’.
The same as Lee’s. She didn’t know what it meant, didn’t want to know.
‘Where is Mingjun?’
‘Ming who?’
‘Mingshu’s brother.’
‘I’ve no idea. Sorry.’
As he approached he stretched a hand wide and she took in the hideous fingernail on his left pinky finger. Roughly two inches long, it was gnarled the colour of old ivory dipped in ash.
‘Why are you lying?’
Raising her head, Georgia met his eyes squarely, determined not to cringe as he stood before her. ‘I am not lying.’
Leather Jacket’s hand moved so fast she had no time to avoid it and took the slap full on the side of her face.
‘Where is Lee?’
She was holding her throbbing cheek, her mouth stinging, but she managed to keep her tone steady as she said, ‘I saw him on the beach this morning. Three Mile Beach.’
‘Where is he staying?’
‘I don’t know.’
He slapped her other cheek but this time she was ready for it and rolled with the blow to lessen its impact.
‘Don’t lie.’
She was about to say she wasn’t lying when the Suit interjected and pushed a small bag on to the table. It was, she saw with a little shock, Suzie’s bumbag. He unzipped it and emptied the contents on the table. Then he held up the floppy disk for her to see.
‘Where is the rest?’ asked Leather Jacket.
If you can’t use your fists, don’t let bullies see your confusion or your fear. It only makes them worse. Tom’s voice.
‘What do you mean, the rest?’
Another stinging slap, this one against her left cheek.
‘If you continue to lie, you will be sorry.’
Ignoring her burning cheeks, holding her fear tight inside her, Georgia said steadily, ‘I don’t understand what you mean. I’m not being obtuse, and I’m not lying. I simply do not understand.’
Leather Jacket looked at her, expression unmoved.
‘Please believe me,’ she said in the same calm tone, ‘when I say I don’t know anything about Suzie Wilson, or Lee Denham. I was just a passenger on the same plane as them, that’s all.’
Leather Jacket walked back to the table, indicating Suzie’s bumbag. ‘I repeat. Where is the rest? Where is her brother, Mingjun? Where’s Lee Denham?’
‘I’m s-sorry . . .’ She paused and took several breaths until she knew her pulse had calmed a little. ‘Until now, I’d never heard of Mingjun. And I don’t know where Lee Denham is. It’s the truth.’ She gestured at the chairs. ‘May I sit down? I’m not feeling very well.’
Leather Jacket clicked his fingers and flicked a hand at a chair, then at Georgia. One of the men brought the chair over. She sat down, her right hand gripping her wrist above her bandage, trying to ensure they couldn’t see her trembling.
Leather Jacket folded his hands on the table. ‘You have many police friends.’
‘No, I don’t. I only know one policeman. Someone I was at school with. Daniel Carter.’
‘You are also a police officer?’
‘No, I’m not. I’m a book rep. For a publishing firm.’
‘You work undercover,’ he said decidedly.
She rose from her chair, alarmed. ‘No, I don’t! I don’t work with the police at all. At all. I’ve never worked with them, never wanted to. Just because my school friend is a cop, doesn’t mean I’m one.’ Her breathing was coming really fast now, terrified they might not believe her.
‘You drove Mingshu and Lee Denham to the airfield.’ Once more Leather Jacket indicated Suzie’s bumbag. ‘You had Mingshu’s personal bag, hidden in your room. Yet you continue to lie.’
‘I’m not lying! Lee and Suzie got their car stuck in a creek and I helped them out. It was a coincidence, that’s all! I’d never seen either of them before.’
‘What creek?’
‘Cassowary. It’s on the road four Ks south-west of Nulgarra. En route to the airfield. You can’t miss it.’
‘The make of car?’
‘A rental Ford. White sedan.’
He pulled a mobile from his back pocket and punched in some numbers. A stream of Chinese followed, then he disconnected and put his mobile on the table. ‘Tell us about the air crash.’
‘Could I have some water, please?’ she asked. ‘I’m very thirsty.’
Another finger click, followed by a guttural command, and one of the heavies left. Nobody spoke until he’d returned and handed her a chipped mug. Her hand trembled as she took a sip, rinsed the stale vomit in her mouth and, although she wanted to eject it, swallowed.
‘The air crash,’ Leather Jacket prompted.
The Suit was tapping a fingernail on the table, so Georgia started talking. Her voice wobbled occasionally, but as she went on and the heavies remained at their posts, it gained strength. From time to time the Suit would ask Leather Jacket a question, which he would then put to her, dragging out the process.
She told them about the intruder but they showed little interest, which she took as confirmation that he had been one of their own men, although not one of those in the room; he’d been much smaller.
‘You were at the hospital,’ Leather Jacket stated, indicating she move on, so she told them about Bri, the state he was in. Finally, when she got around to Daniel and their last conversation, the Suit leaned forward, elbows on the table, and let out another torrent of Chinese.
‘You talked to this policeman, Daniel Carter, outside the hospital for quite a while. What did you talk about?’
‘The plane’s sabotage.’
‘It was sabotaged?’ Leather Jacket sounded startled.
‘It hasn’t been confirmed. I don’t think it’s even been reported yet.’
The sudden image of Daniel sprawled on the pavement, face ashen, filled her mind. Jesus, she hoped he was all right. Did they have him too?
A lengthy consultation followed between her two interrogators. She sipped at her water, never taking her attention from the backlit figures in front of her. Leather Jacket reached for the backpack on the table, pulled out a white object she couldn’t identify, and slid it on to the table. The next item he extracted she could identify. It was a pistol. He calmly laid it in front of her, next to the white object.
‘You and Lee Denham stole Suzie Wilson from us,’ Leather Jacket said firmly. ‘You wanted her for yourselves.’
‘Stole her? What do you mean, I stole her? For God’s sake, she was just on the same plane as me!’ she insisted, trying to fight her panic and retain some sort of calm. ‘It’s a coincidence, can’t you see? It’s got nothing to do with me.’
