Dead Heat (11 page)

“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 that 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 onto the table. It was, she saw with
a little shock, Suzie’s fanny pack. 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 fanny pack. “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 know only 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; she was terrified they might not believe her.

“You drove Mingshu and Lee Denham to the airfield.” Once more Leather Jacket indicated Suzie’s fanny pack. “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 two and a half miles southwest 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 onto 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.”

The Suit interjected briefly, then Leather Jacket said, “We are finding it hard to understand.”

“Me too! One minute I’m at a funeral of someone I love, then I’m in an air crash and the next thing I’m being interrogated
by the police, then kidnapped by you and I’ve got
nothing to do with anything
!”

Silence.

The Suit clicked his fingers. Leather Jacket nodded at the heavies, who left the room.

Everything was quiet.

Then the door slammed open and the heavies returned, dragging a barefoot figure across the room, tied to a chair, head covered
with a black trash bag. The instant she recognized the floral cotton trousers and flowing Indian shirt, she felt her spirit
being broken into tiny pieces.

“Mum,” she choked.

Her mother’s head swung her way and she made an urgent mumbling noise. Georgia couldn’t make out what she said and realized
she had been gagged.

“Mum, are you okay? Please. God, I’m sorry . . .”

Leather Jacket came and stood next to her. The two heavies stood on either side of her mother on her chair.

“Where is Lee Denham?”

Her mother made a mewling sound. Then a soft plea that sounded like, “Sweet. Run.”

Black rage overcame her.

Blacker than she’d ever known.

It swept through her like a tidal wave, blotting out everything. It could have been night. Her vision went completely dark.

Georgia launched herself at Leather Jacket. Both hands punching, gouging, nails tearing for his face. He wasn’t ready for
her and stumbled backwards, losing his balance, crashing to the floor.

She swarmed on top of him, teeth bared, hooking her fingers to tear at his face, but suddenly there were bands of iron around
her chest, pulling her away, and she knew the heavies had her and she ducked her head and caught the only flesh she could
find between her teeth. Leather Jacket’s wrist. She bit as hard as she could, shaking her head from side to side like a dog
killing a rat, enraged and engorged with hatred, out of control.

Leather Jacket was hollering as she bit down hard, the heavies trying to drag her away, but she had his wrist and no way was
she going to let go. She was a pit bull terrier and she was growling, chewing, and biting . . .

A blow to the side of her head made her mouth go numb, but she simply bit harder, growled louder.

Another blow, and her mouth went slack. Leather Jacket’s wrist slid free from her bite. She felt herself folding to the floor,
but Leather Jacket was still yelling fit to burst.

Good.

She hoped it bloody hurt.

Her
mum.
How dare they.

G
eorgia lay panting on the floor, the heavies surrounding her. Leather Jacket came over, cupping his wrist to his mouth, and
as he brought his foot back, she rolled to protect her kidneys. When the blow came, it wasn’t as bad as she thought it might
be, but she groaned a lot and saw his look of satisfaction.

She rolled a little bit farther for the next blow, which glanced off her ribs and still hurt like hell, but the damage would
be minimal. Just a bunch of bruises. She yelled to make him feel big, and as he was going to kick her again, she heard the
Suit bark an order and Leather Jacket paused, looked across at the Suit then down at her. He made a guttural sound deep in
his throat, then spat a gob of mucus at her. To her delight, it missed, landing on the floor beside her head, rather than
in her face as he’d intended.

Pulling her lips back from her teeth, she snarled at him and he glared back.

The Suit barked another order. Leather Jacket marched stiffly to stand by him at the table.

Her breathing seemed to fill the room. She raised herself to see her mother on the chair, body shuddering, indecipherable
sounds jerking from beneath her gag.

“Mum,” she said. “I’m fine—”

Leather Jacket spun around and clicked his fingers, and to her horror one of the heavies strode back to the table and brought
a baseball bat into view, raised it away from his body, and swung it straight toward her mother’s face.

“Mum!” she yelled, and her mother swung her face toward her but it wasn’t enough and the baseball bat smacked into the side
of Linette’s head with a hollow slapping sound, like an armload of wet towels dropping onto tiles. Her chair flew sideways
and her mother plummeted to the floor still tied to it, elbows angled awkwardly, head rolled to one side. Georgia stared at
her mother’s still form and then she leaned over and retched and retched until her ribs ached.

“Where is Lee Denham?” Leather Jacket insisted. “Where is Mingshu’s brother?”

The heavy was swinging the baseball bat casually in his right hand, tapping it against her mother’s bare foot. Georgia saw
she had magenta nail polish on her toes. Her feet were brown and beautifully pedicured. No doubt done by a mate who wanted
an astrological reading in return. That was the way Mum’s life worked. You baked a bunch of hash brownies and people fixed
your roof, gave you tax advice, introduced you to a plumber who could sort your leaking cistern.

Ignoring Leather Jacket, she concentrated on her mother. Georgia could just make out that she was breathing. She was alive,
but as Georgia watched, a trickle of blood seeped from beneath the black trash bag and onto the floor. Gazing at the blood,
she felt a black ice creep into her veins. From her fingertips to her chipped, blue-painted toenails, it crawled malevolently
to her heart. She would see them dead for this, she thought. Dead.

“We can break every bone in your mother’s body. We
will
break every bone in her body if you don’t tell us what you know.”

Georgia barely felt the pain in her ribs with the new ice-cold, numbing black stream running through her, and her voice was
strong when she spoke. “You’ve got the wrong people, don’t you get it? Do some checking. You’ll soon find out you’ve messed
up big-time. And I mean big-time.” She rolled onto her front and pushed herself steadily upright until she was standing. With
the windows behind him, she couldn’t see Leather Jacket’s eyes, but she settled her gaze where she thought they might be.
“I’ll be there when you realize it.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” he sneered.

“I’m a Scorpio,” she said. “If that isn’t a warning, then I don’t know what is.”

“I was born in the Year of the Dragon.”

“What a surprise. Arrogant, intolerant, and discontented. Sounds just like you. In case you didn’t already know, Dragons are
also capable of spectacular failure.” She took a long pause. “I was born in the Year of the Tiger.”

The way he stilled told her he knew that in Chinese lore, the tiger was instinctively protective and once involved in battle,
invariably won. When the mobile on the table chirped, Leather Jacket started as though he’d touched a live wire. Excellent.
She had rattled him.

Snatching up the phone, he listened briefly, then disconnected.

Leather Jacket said something to the Suit, who didn’t seem to react, but when he slowly reached out and picked up Suzie’s
parking card, she saw the heavies shift uneasily. Talking in a low undertone, the Suit slowly ripped the card into tiny pieces.

Everybody remained silent. Absolutely motionless.

Suddenly the Suit slammed his open palm down on the table, and the pieces of parking card scattered across the table. Every
person in the room flinched, except her mother, who lay as if dead. The Suit spoke to Leather Jacket, who looked at Georgia.

“At last we have part of the truth,” he said. “Ronnie Chen rented a white Ford three days ago, but the rental company is still
awaiting its return. We are wondering where it is now.”

So they knew Ronnie Chen, she thought. She said, “I’ve told you, Lee left it in the creek.”

“There is no car in Cassowary Creek.”

She stared at him blankly. “What?”

He gave a long-drawn-out and exaggerated sigh, as though he was bored. “So, where is the car, and where is Lee Denham?”