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 . .
“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 . .
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