Dead Heat (31 page)

“On my way.”

I
ndia was half eyeing the polystyrene box as she drove. They had exited the healing center’s gates and were headed east into
town.

“You really got it? A sample of his vitamins?”

“Sure did.”

India was grinning. “You’re definitely SAS material. Thought of applying?”

“As if. I don’t want my life story spread over the tabloids.”

India tapped the steering wheel with excitement. “It all makes sense, don’t you think? Yumuru using Suzie’s miracle cure to
keep his healing center alive; Suzie being kidnapped by Lee Denham—”

“Hang on a minute, India! I never said Lee kidnapped Suzie!”

“No, but he had every reason. She’s worth a
fortune.
”

“But Suzie was with him willingly!”

“Sure, and I live in a yurt when I’m at home.” Turning a cynical look onto Georgia, she added, “You really think your pal
Lee, people smuggler, cop killer, didn’t snatch Suzie for himself? You think he feels an obligation to you, having saved your
life, but why is he really still around? He’s not stupid, he knows the cops are after him. Surely you can’t believe he’s sticking
around just for you?”

Georgia turned her head to look through the window but didn’t take in the scenery. India’s cold logic was like a blast from
Siberia. Lee had killed Ronnie Chen, she knew that. Lee was in a race to find Jon Ming before the Chens, she knew that also.
She had a problem with her loyalties, she realized. Lee was a bad guy, but she couldn’t assimilate that fact with the man
who’d saved her life, and who was trying to rescue her mother.

“I’d still like to give him the benefit of the doubt,” she said stoutly.

“Your prerogative,” India replied, her voice indicating Georgia was a fool, but she’d tolerate it. “So, I’ll ship this down
to Sydney, get it tested. Then what?”

Find her mother, that’s what. Her heart and lungs began to implode. She felt a violent urge to punch out the windshield, to
yell into the peerless blue sky. Mum, are you okay? I’m sorry I’m doing such a shit job of trying to find you, but I’m doing
the best I can. And what about you, Lee? Where the hell are you?

“Georgia?”

She swallowed, said, “Could you drop me at the National?”

“What’s the plan?”

She shook her head. “No plan. Aside from an Irish coffee, that is.”

India grimaced, looking disappointed, and Georgia felt a surge of bright white anger, just like she used to against Bridie’s
endless enthusiasm, her boundless energy.

“Just drop me off, will you?” Her voice was tight.

“Keep your knickers on,” the reporter snapped. “I only thought—”

“That I’m naive and stupid? That you could do a far better job in my place?”

Silence.

To Georgia’s relief she saw the National come into view. Her hand was already opening the door before India’s ute came to
a full stop.

“Georgia, I’m sorry, I know I need brushing up on my communication skills, but please, don’t—”

“Just test the contents of the syringe, okay? And call me when you get the results.”

Slamming the door shut, Georgia marched into the hotel. Behind her she heard the click as India’s ute engaged drive. Then
the sound of the car pulling away, gently, as though driving on glass.

Georgia went to Price’s and bought a hundred dollars’ worth of phone cards, then spent the remainder of the afternoon using
the National’s public phone outside the gents’ loo, her mobile on top of the box, where she could snatch it should Lee ring.

After what felt like her twentieth round of being put on hold and transferred, she finally tried a pressure group the immigration
department had mentioned and got through to a man called Zed. Zed sounded horrified that Paul Zhong was returning to China
to be executed, and promised he’d do something immediately. He even gave her his mobile number, and when they’d finished speaking
he sounded out of breath, as though he was already running to Paul’s rescue.

Highly relieved that at last someone was taking her seriously, Georgia was heading for the bar and a cup of coffee when a
man behind her said, “Georgia?”

Daniel was in the corridor, tapping a newspaper against his thigh, and she couldn’t help noticing him look her over; messy
hair, sweat-stained T-shirt and shorts, bare legs.

“Looking good as usual.” He grinned.

He was casually dressed in jeans and a faded blue shirt and looked handsome as hell, but she wasn’t going to say it.

“Thought I’d come round and see if you fancy a drink. Maybe a glass of wine or something.”

She wondered if it wasn’t a bit early, but when she glanced through the open door and at the street outside she saw that the
light had softened into evening. Amazingly, it was past six. She must have spent hours on the phone before she’d fallen on
Zed.

“Or would you prefer a beer?” Daniel asked Georgia, walking her into the saloon, where the man behind the bar was emptying
a dishwasher.

“A beer would be great.”

The barman straightened up, and as soon as he saw Daniel he took a step back, expression wary.

“How’s it going, Rog?” Daniel asked him. “Been behaving yourself?”

The barman nodded.

“Glad to hear it,” Daniel said. “Make it two 4Xs, thanks, mate, and a couple of packs of nuts.”

Daniel pulled out his wallet, and as he pushed a ten-dollar note to Rog the barman, a battered, slightly torn photograph fell
onto the counter. The instant she took in the picture, her breath caught.

Daniel in the sunshine, with a little girl on his shoulders. A woman, with her arms around Daniel’s waist, peeked past his
ribs. Her skin was dark and her hair short, generously curly around her temples. All three were laughing, carefree, eyes creased,
mouths wide and happy. The woman, Georgia realized, had to be Daniel’s dead wife, Lucy.

Without missing a beat, Daniel picked up the photograph and tucked it back inside his wallet. Georgia found herself gazing
where the photograph now lay, snug in warm leather, and thought it was no wonder he felt the pain of Lucy’s death. She was
beautiful.

They sat on barstools near windows streaked with salt from the last set of storms. Wearing shorts meant her thighs stuck to
the plastic, but at least they were cooler than jeans. She pushed her handbag onto the counter and looked outside. A battered
white ute, colored a vivid tangerine in the sunset, pulled up outside the Three Mile Store and its beer-bellied driver vanished
inside.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked Daniel. The beer was ice-cold, the beer nuts salty, staple fodder for pubgoers in
Australia.

“I asked around. You know what this place is like.”

Holy heck. If Daniel had found her, then the Chens would too. Perhaps she’d better stay somewhere else tonight. Like inside
a cell in the cop shop.

“I heard about the mayhem you caused in Brisbane. What are you, a magnet for trouble?”

She checked her mobile again. Put it on top of her handbag.

“I got caught up in events, that’s all.”

“With Suzie’s brother.” He held up a hand as she started to explain. “It’s okay. I heard all about it from the chief. You’re
lucky he likes you or you could have been there days. Also lucky he straightened the Brizzy cops out over you, or they’d be
raising hell. Good bloke, the chief. One hell of a good cop.”

Daniel raised his glass and drank half his schooner of beer down slowly and steadily, obviously thirsty. She could see his
chest muscles outlined beneath his shirt. Solid and broad. In her mind she caught him checking her out again.
Looking good as usual.
She found herself wondering what would have happened if she’d had dinner with him in Cairns. Would something now be going
on with Daniel? Would they be dating? Would they have kissed? A little shock ran through her at the thought, and as she sat
there she wondered if what she felt was the residue of her schoolgirl crush or if she wasn’t half in love with him.

Putting his glass down, he licked his lips of foam, and said, “When are you going home?”

She shifted on her stool, realizing that something with Daniel was a daydream. A nice daydream to be sure, but just that.

“When I find out who sabotaged our plane.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the barman turn his head, tuning in to what they were saying, but she didn’t care if
he overheard, spread the gossip around. Bri hadn’t been at fault and she wanted the whole town to know.

Daniel’s voice was tinged with disbelief when he said, “You really think it was?”

“I saw Becky. Bri told her he knew it was sabotaged. He
knew.
”

“Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?” Daniel’s tone softened. “He wouldn’t want Becky thinking he cocked up so badly. Nor
his kids.”

“Did you contact the AAI?”

“I thought we went into this outside Suzie’s house.”

“But Becky wants to know the truth. Please, Daniel, will you talk to them?”

He gave it some thought, then gave her one of those smiles she couldn’t help but give herself over to. “How about we make
a deal? I’ll contact the AAI, then I’ll take you to dinner and give you a full report. How about the Pier? I’ve heard it’s
pretty amazing.”

She blinked a couple of times, a nervous tingling all over the surface of her skin. The Pier was only one of Sydney’s best—overlooking
the Harbour Bridge with a wine list two miles long—and to go with Daniel . . .

“It’s a deal,” she said

“Shall we make it Tuesday? I’ve a meeting in Sydney then, it would tie in nicely.”

Instantly she felt pressured. Tuesday was only four days away and two days after the deadline. Would Lee have her mother by
then?

“Um . . .” she said, and when his face clouded, decided not only to try to think positively, but act it too. “Tuesday would
be great.”

The cloud vanished as he smiled, and she crossed her fingers and prayed her mother would be free. Dinner with Daniel Carter
was not something she wanted to cancel, thank you very much, and her mum would agree.

Emotions all over the place—delight at Daniel’s invitation, despair at the continuing nightmare of her mother’s situation—she
drank some more beer, forced down a handful of nuts, and watched the street, the sun blushing cars and buildings a rich burnt
orange. After a while, Daniel pushed his paper, a copy of the
Queensland Tribune,
in front of her.

“Seen this yet?”

She nearly choked at the headline.

GANG KILLING IN CAIRNS—VICTIM DISEMBOWELED

The man found disemboweled in Cairns two days ago has been confirmed as a member of the Red Bamboo Gang. Tan Zhang Dan, from
Fuzhou, China, did not have official status in Australia. His body was found on the Cannon Park Racecourse.

Sergeant Daniel Carter, who works with PST, the People Smuggling Strike Team, and the National Crime Authority for South-East
Asia organized crime intervention, said it was definitely a gang killing, and that the man found washed up on Kee Beach, Nulgarra,
on Saturday, March 2, Ronnie Chen, could have been the victim of the same vendetta.

“Ronnie Chen was shot,” Carter said. “We don’t yet know why, but we do know that the murders are connected. We are talking
about a brutal and ruthless killer.”

The byline was India’s. It was a story she’d reported last night, the reason she’d gone to Cairns.

“Your friend Lee has been hard at work,” Daniel said.

“Lee?” she repeated blankly.

“Disemboweling his victims,” he said. “It’s his trademark. Who is he after? Do you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“This gang member had something Lee wanted. I’m thinking information.”

Georgia started to tremble slightly and pushed her hands between her thighs before he could see.

“I’ve no doubt it’s Lee,” Daniel continued in a conversational tone. “He’s well-known for it. Taking his victim somewhere
quiet, lulling them into a false sense of security, then slashing his victim’s stomach until the entrails show, telling the
poor bastard he’ll call an ambulance if he gives him the information he wants. It always works. They know they’re going to
die anyway, but take the chance he might actually make the call.”

Lee’s voice in her head.

Ask a few questions in the right places. Fine out where they’re holding her . . . I’ve ways and means.

Had Lee really killed this man in order to gain information about her mother?

Think of me as your own private hawk . . . able to see far and wide . . . to strike and kill in your defense.

She felt a wave of nausea crash over her.

“Excuse me a minute,” she murmured, and pushed herself upright. Clutching her mobile, she added, “Need the bathroom.”

Rinsing her face with water again and again, Georgia tried to stop her shuddering. She may have been glad of an ally hell-bent
on saving her mother, but sweet Jesus, disemboweling a man for information? Raising her head, she stared at her reflection
in the mirror. She had big black rings around her eyes, and her cheeks had hollowed, making her jaw and nose look enormous.
She’d lost weight, she suddenly realized. A huge amount of weight. Must eat more, she told herself. More toast, more Special
K, but no fish porridge, thank you, Fang Dongmei.

Drying her face on a paper towel, she went back to her barstool and concentrated on playing with the condensation on her beer
glass.

“Sorry I was so brutal,” Daniel said quietly. “Forgot I was talking to a member of the public.”

“It’s okay.” She forced a smile then added, as casually as possible, “Have you seen Paul Zhong?”

He blinked. “No. You did that.”

“Um . . . did you tell anyone I was seeing him?”

“Sure, we do share information in the police, you know. And since everyone’s out for Lee as much as I am . . .”

Which confirmed that Spider was a cop Daniel worked with and that Lee was right, she couldn’t tell Daniel anything without
it getting back to Spider.

She checked her mobile again. Twenty-four hours had passed since she’d last spoken to Lee. She closed her eyes briefly, praying
he was all right, that he hadn’t gotten shot . . . At this moment, he was still her only hope, her mother’s only hope. Her
stomach gave a lurch at the thought of him lying alone and wounded beneath some bushes somewhere, blood pouring . . . Stop
it, she told herself, he’s the one who does the wounding. God, it was so confusing.