Free Draw the Brisbane Line by P.A. Fenton Page B

completely. Three men stood around the tailgate, smoking and staring intently at them.
    Blood filled Jenny’s head, rushing through her ears like an open gas valve.  ‘Tait?’ she said, forcing the words from her clenching jaw.  ‘What.  The.  Fuck ?’
    ‘Christ,’ Tait said.  ‘It’s Sammo.’
    ‘You little fuck .’
    ‘It wasn’t me, I swear.  He must have guessed I’d take you around this way.’
    ‘Oh, so now he’s a criminal genius?  I suppose he set up the whole steal-the-Lexus gambit as part of a larger plan which led us here … so he could steal the Lexus.’
    ‘Jenny,’ Tait said, and placed a hand on her shoulder.  That should have infuriated her, but she found it oddly inoffensive, even calming.  His eyes were round and brown and utterly sincere.  ‘Sammo might not be a criminal genius, but he is a criminal.  No school smarts, but plenty of street smarts, yeah?  Don’t underestimate him.’
    ‘So I’m supposed to believe you didn’t lead me here, that this wasn’t part of the plan?’
    ‘Believe what you want, but I’m about thirty seconds away from a serious bashing.’
    ‘But —’
    ‘Rosie!’ one of the men shouted, big guy who looked like he had more than a bit of Maori or islander in him.  He was wearing board shorts and sneakers but no shirt, which gave Jenny a clear view of his ink-stained torso.  His head was shaved bald, and more tattoos swirled around his scalp in distorted and warped loops, as though they’d been penned when his skull was much smaller.  ‘Come on out, will ya?  We need a little chat.’
    ‘Sammo, I presume,’ Jenny said.
    Tait nodded.
    Jenny shifted into reverse, but just as she turned to look over her shoulder another car came up close behind them, a red Commodore HS.  They were penned in.
    Tait sagged in his seat.  ‘I’m so sorry Jenny.  I should have thought they’d do this.  I was kind of hoping they’d bugged out with everyone else.’
    ‘Or were too busy looting the local businesses.’
    ‘Come on,’ Sammo called out.  ‘I’m not gunna hurt youse.’
    ‘Like hell,’ Jenny said.  ‘Do not get out of this car,’ she hissed at Tait.
    ‘They’ll drag me out if I don’t,’ he said.  ‘It’s better this way, trust me.  I’ll talk to them.’
    Tait opened the door and the heat of the noon day bustled into the car like an over-affectionate Labrador.  They weren’t that far from the beach, but Jenny suspected the cooling sea breeze never made it this far.  He stepped onto the road and closed the door, and the air-conditioning quickly re-established dominance.
    Tait stepped up to the three men, his hands held out by his side.  He spoke in a low voice, but she could still make out his words.
    Jenny’s stomach performed a greasy backflip.
    ‘Guys,’ he said.  ‘What are you doing?  We’re just trying to evacuate, like the flyers said.’
    Sammo responded by swinging a hard low right into Tait’s midsection.  Tait folded over, and he had to stick a hand out to stop from dropping to the road right there.  His other hand clutched at his belly.  Jenny could hear him wheezing as he struggled to get air into his lungs.
    Sammo worked out, and judging by the abnormal proportions of biceps and chest and shoulders, Jenny assumed he was lifting weights with the help of some hormonal boosters, if not straight shots of high-dose testosterone.  Ten years spent around Hollywood stars in Hollywood gyms had opened her eyes to the reality of how built up a man could get while staying within the structure of his own genetic house. Extensions usually required outside help.
    He stood over Tait, flexing his arms.  Jenny slammed the car horn and he jumped, a twitching ball of aggression.
    He looked at Jenny, and a sharp grin settled on his face.  He punched down into Tait’s head, catching him on the back of the jaw.  This time he went down.
    ‘You cowardly fuck!’ she shouted, and the heat of the day washed over