‘Well,’ she said, ‘would you look at this place?’
Finn just stared at a lot of silky, loud, pink pyjamas.She was even wearing a matching pink coat, sprinkled with cat fur, and green cactus-shaped slippers peeking out from under the hem.
A far cry from the woman who usually wore the Territory’s navy-blue police uniform.
With one generous hip, Tanisha pushed the door closed and sashayed inside with all that silk whispering against silk, as her cactus slippers slapped softly against the lino.
She was the loudest and brightest thing in the quietest room.
‘Don’t start,’ she smirked, setting down the bag with a thud.‘It was this or the matching unicorn set.But the glitter has gotten into the seams making it too itchy to wear to bed, although it’s great for cocktail hour.’
Her eyes landed on Brodie and softened.‘Aw, poor baby.Curled up like a little kitten.’
She glanced at Finn again and held out the cup.‘Amara called.Said you might need a coffee, and every map you had lying around in the Batcave.’She nodded at the bag on the floor.
‘Thank you.’Finn took the cup, the rich coffee aroma warming.
Tanisha raised her chin.‘Now, mister.Marcus said you’ll have a plan, and I quote,to box those bastards in.’
Thirty-two
Daylight was only a slither of soft mushroom pink stretching over the horizon as the jet touched down with a low hum.Dust kicked up in spirals across the simple airstrip, settling against the wire fence, before the jet had come to a stop.
Taryn greeted the dawn as she descended the jet’s stairs, only this time in her jeans and T-shirt, not a pencil skirt and suit.
Waiting at the bottom, arms crossed like a border guard who’d been cheated out of a sleep-in, stood Mickey in his grease-stained grey coveralls.Squinting at her like an aged Popeye, swatting at a fly with his matching grey hand towel.
‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered.‘What is it with you friggin’ Feds, always gotta land before coffee hour?’
Taryn offered him a smile.‘Morning, Mickey.So it’s common to have jets land at this airstrip, huh?’
‘Nah…’ He narrowed his eyes at the sleek high-powered jet.‘The last time one of you lot landed in one of these things was maybe a year back?’Mickey scratched behind his ear.‘Round the same time that there Stock Squad made their first case, like it was official, or somethin’.That Commissioner fella—yeah?The one Stone calledBig Daddysomething or other.Him.He came in one of these things.’
‘The Federal Agricultural Commissioner, Drew Bannon?’She stood dead still.
‘Yeah, him.Flew in like he owned the place.Handin’ out police badges and slappin’ backs of the Stock Squad at the end of the tarmac, by the cop shop there.Only thing missin’ was a bunch of babies for him to kiss.’
‘What were you doing?’
‘Helping his snooty assistant load boxes onto the jet.’
‘What boxes?’
‘Y’know?’
‘No.’
‘Look, lady, I’m not your tour guide here to share the gossip-what-not, either.What’s with the twenty questions?’
‘I need to know.’
‘Yeah, like I need to know how to get you gone so I can get goin’ with my day.’
‘I’ll buy you a beer, like I do for your brother, Billy.’
‘Well, then…’ He sniffed, wiping down the front of his grey coveralls as if wearing a tie.
‘What did those boxes look like?’
