Chapter 20
Logan strode across the field towards St Bart’s, the morning frost heavy underfoot. The aeroplane dangled from his hand in a plastic bag, the bits of vivid green leaf absent from its fiberglass body. The Māori shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the time it took to separate the greenery from the plane and flush it down the toilet.
“What are you doing?” Tama had asked, staring over his shoulder as Logan sponged the plane’s surface with a wet cloth after midnight.
“It was covered in m*******a, i***t!” Logan bit. “Do you think I should’ve just rolled it into a joint and offered Bodie some?”
“Ah, probably not,” Tama replied. “Reckon Supercop’s got it in for both of us lately.”
“No kidding,” Logan breathed. He climbed into bed in the early hours having cleared the house, inclu
