Hard Return

by Rosie Claverton

  Catriona withdrew her phone from her pocket and placed it in the box. Then, they both looked to Bryn.

  Bryn took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure I’ve got time for this.’

  Cerys shut the box.

  ‘Caffeine’s on me,’ she said lightly. ‘You’ve got time for a cuppa, right?’

  Bryn hesitated, but she’d already stood up, heading to the counter to collect three disposable cups of bad tea. While she was waiting, she stole a glance back at the table. Bryn and Catriona were sitting in silence, with Catriona still staring at him and him staring down at the table.

  She guessed Bryn had more to lose than the rest of them. He had his promotion now, had lost some of the disgrace that had clung to him after Amy’s fall from grace and Owain’s defection. Maybe he didn’t want to sully his reputation once more, give Frieda the opportunity to pull the rug from under him. He didn’t have that long until his retirement.

  Part of her still blamed him for what had happened with Owain. If only he’d supported him, dealt with the fears that had driven him away… But she wasn’t on Owain’s side anymore. Whatever there had been between them was dead, even if she hadn’t quite managed to cut him loose. What remained was meaningless. She kept telling herself that.

  She returned to the table, the hot tea burning her fingers through the cups as she carried them in a taut triangle. Catriona nodded her thanks. Bryn just stared at her.

  ‘Strange business with Alby, wasn’t it?’ Cerys said. ‘Funny what speed will do to you.’

  ‘We sent him away with a slap on the wrist,’ Bryn said, finally taking his cup. ‘No mileage in a charge of “wasting police time”.’

  Cerys wasn’t sure if that meant he had dismissed it as a fantasy, or if he had labelled it that to avoid further scrutiny. She didn’t know Bryn well, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Owain would’ve been so much better at this, or Jason – even Amy would’ve had a good shot at the truth. Except none of them were here.

  She had wanted to handle this without help. Maybe bringing in Catriona. But it made sense to go to Bryn – he had the connections, the rank, the reputation for decency. If anyone could get away with doing something shady, it was him. Cerys’ position in the police force was precarious at best. She had never quite shaken that association with her ex-con brother.

  She was just the messenger and the lackey. She had grown used to the role since joining the police. It reminded her of running errands for Jason and his gang when they were kids. It felt like a different life entirely, but it hadn’t even been ten years. She wanted to hold on to this new way of existing, but she couldn’t leave Jason behind. She had to make this right for him.

  ‘Amy and Jason want to go on holiday,’ she said, carefully. ‘If they get…permission.’

  ‘I don’t work for the NCA,’ Bryn said, hiding behind his cup.

  ‘You could put in a good word,’ Catriona interjected, before turning to Cerys with a significant look. ‘What are their plans?’

  Cerys seized the lifeline with both hands. ‘They’d like to leave Sunday evening. Any week, really – but sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Where are they going?’

  ‘Somewhere local. Jason said they'd probably start in Penarth, and then head north – through The Valleys, I think. Not more than two hours or so. Amy’s not keen on cars.’

  Bryn huffed, took out his notebook, and jotted a couple of things down. Cerys squeezed her fist tight, trying to keep a lid on her optimism.

  ‘Travelling will be difficult,’ Bryn said.

  ‘I thought they might break it up, a couple of different car trips. Get a van for the rest of the journey. If they leave about midnight, the roads won’t be so bad. Do you know a place?’

  He wrote: Midnight to collect, need a van. He turned the notebook slightly, so Cerys could check the details.

  ‘I might.’

  He was in.

  Chapter 8: Last Night of Our Lives

  They were as ready as it was possible to be while knowing nothing about where they were going or what they would do when they got there.

  Cerys had popped round to drop off some DVDs of Jason’s – and leave her laptop in the bathtub. Amy was 90% sure there was only sound surveillance in the bathroom and they didn’t have time for more stealthy methods. Time was precious, and Jason wouldn’t delay while there was a chance Lewis was in danger.

  Amy felt almost jealous of their relationship, the way Jason would drop everything to be at Lewis’ side. She had never had a best friend, preferring her own company or friends across the web. Controlling how she was seen, wanting to be admired and never pitied.

  Yet she did know that feeling of loyalty, because she was knee-deep in it now. She was voluntarily placing herself in a situation where she could not plan and wasn’t even sure what she would do when she got out there. Hang about in the woods sending coded messages? Break into the compound to graffiti on the walls? Bang on the window in Morse Code?

  She only knew that Jason couldn’t go alone. Nothing ever went well when he went places alone – whether it was investigating dealers in Cardiff or jumping on a motorbike with a sociopath, the boy’s judgement could not be trusted.

  What she didn’t know was whether her judgement was worth anything at all. She had ended up in pressurised, anxiety-provoking situations before – but that was in the heat of the moment, not walking into the fire with her eyes open. How would she react? What would she do or say? Was her brain strong enough for what she had to throw at it?

  She heard the door close, and shut down her NCA-issued laptop, which had been idle for an hour or more. Jason entered the living room, rucksack over his shoulder.

  ‘I’d left a few things at Dylan’s,’ he said, loud enough for anyone who might be listening.

  Dylan was one of Jason’s oldest friends and could get hold of anything and everything. He also had a garage full of loud machinery, perfect for drowning out conversations that could be monitored. If Dylan had come through, that bag contained everything they needed for their trip. She’d tried to make discreet choices, items that any gang boy might want rather than a collection of items that screamed ‘hacker on a spending spree’. Frieda hadn’t knocked on her door yet.

  ‘I’ll look later,’ she said. ‘The pizza’s on its way.’

  It would be a normal night. Pizza, beer and a movie was their Sunday night tradition. With Owain lurking in the corner, silently watching. But not anymore.

  Amy felt strangely on edge. It wasn’t the thought of going outside, putting herself in an unknown place with unfamiliar people intent on doing cruel and unusual things. That breed of anxiety was an old friend.

  No, it was being here, with Jason. Alone.

  The apartment suddenly seemed vast with just the two of them, but the sofa seemed small. She let Jason pick the film because her mind was buzzing, distracted, and they got half an hour through True Grit before she realised what it was. She’d hardly tasted the pizza, her whole being focused on Jason. On how close he was, how far away he’d felt this past year, and now that they were alone…

  Amy dropped her pizza slice and kissed him.

  It was inelegant at best, her limbs misbehaving as she launched herself at him, his ‘oof’ of surprise as she toppled him – but then he held her, and kissed her back.

  She pressed herself against him, drinking him in with her whole body, wanting to know and be known all at once. She’d thought about this moment for a year, maybe two – most days – most hours – planned it and dreamed it and angsted over it. But now she didn’t think at all..

  He pulled back for a moment, spreading his broad hand over her chest, her heart leaping up to meet it joyously, wildly. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He looked up towards the camera’s eye, but she was kissing him again before he could think or second-guess himse
lf and her. They had danced around this for a year, waiting for Owain to leave, really leave – and not to care anymore what Frieda thought, what she could do to retaliate, to hurt them. They were going to blow everything up in Frieda’s face. What was one more sin?

  Jason’s fingers were working open the buttons of her blouse. Expertly, with a practiced hand – but she wouldn’t dwell on that. That he was treading a well-worn path and she was decidedly…not. She wouldn’t make it awkward. She wouldn’t cast that shadow. Tonight was not for the shadows, but the incredible, all-consuming light.

  She somehow hauled up his T-shirt, and he eased it off, flung it on the floor. He’ll have to clear that up before Owain gets back, she thought. But Owain wasn’t coming back. They were leaving, and he wasn’t coming back.

  Jason sat forward, bringing her with him, and forced her to take her own weight on the floor. He stood and lifted her by her waist, even though she was heavier than the last time, even though she didn’t need to be carried. She wrapped her jean-clad legs around his waist and he laughed, walking her backwards out of the room, down the long dark corridor, and into the room where she had wanted him to take her for days, months, years.

  No more waiting.

  Chapter 9: Frieda’s Midnight Runners

  It was just after twelve when Amy tapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘It’s time.’

  Jason wanted to stop, to say something, but she was throwing on her clothes at speed and he was in danger of being left behind.

  ‘How long?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a two-hour skip on the surveillance,’ she said. ‘It was the best I could do tonight.’

  ‘What about the corridors?’

  ‘The program affects all the recording devices in this building. I don’t know how many they’ve got.’

  She sounded tense, preoccupied. Was it the anxiety of what they were about to do, or the many unspoken questions in their relationship? Like, was that a we-who-are-about-to-die, one-time deal? Or was it a promise to continue when they got back?

  ‘Jason! Please pay attention.’

  He turned to her, trying to look contrite. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘When did you leave the gift?’

  ‘When I got in. They’ll be well on their way by now.’

  The plan was simple, but it was his plan. Jason was used to living like this – with more luck than judgement to get him out of a scrape. Amy hated it, but they were low on options. He had a good feeling about it, so she’d rolled her eyes and reluctantly agreed.

  Was she having second thoughts? About the plan, about them, about him? Jason smacked his own arm. Now was not the time for an attack of sentimentality. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  They picked up their bags and headed to the door in silence, leaving their phones on the bedside table. Amy opened the front door, and almost tripped over a drunk women about to knock.

  Their neighbour, Virginia ‘Ginny’ Walters. The one who liked him.

  ‘Thank you for the champers,’ Ginny slurred, before giving a high-pitched laugh that could’ve been heard in Swansea.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Jason said, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

  Leaving the gift had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Ginny had helped him out when his shopping bags had split outside her front door, and he’d thought—

  ‘You coming to join us?’

  She was falling out of her dress, and her blonde hair was framing her cleavage just-so, but Jason couldn’t give a flying fuck. They had work to do.

  ‘Can’t, sorry. We’re going, um, backpacking. Easier to travel when the roads are quiet.’

  ‘Oh. But I was hoping you would share a glass with me?’

  Jason saw two glasses in her hand, both half-full of Champagne, and realised she was ignoring Amy entirely. Time to go.

  ‘Next time,’ he said, escorting Ginny down the hallway to the lift, hoping that Amy was following and not sulking.

  The lift was still on their floor and the three of them squeezed in, before Jason sent it down to the ground floor.

  ‘Where are you…backpacking?’ Ginny asked, before downing one of the glasses.

  ‘Brecon Beacons.’

  The lies came easier now, tripping off his tongue.

  ‘Your sister doesn’t say much, does she?’

  Jason didn’t chance a look at Amy.

  ‘Amy’s not my sister. She’s…my girlfriend.’

  It felt simultaneously too much and not enough. How could you describe someone who your whole life was dedicated to, with a side of kissing?

  Ginny huffed and drained the other glass, as the lift doors opened.

  ‘Happy backpacking,’ she said bitterly, and staggered back to her flat.

  Jason looked towards Amy, but she was already heading for the back door to their small private garden, which was locked.

  ‘Shit.’

  Jason had been relying on the door being wedged open, for the smokers at Ginny’s party to indulge without bothering with the hostess to let them back in. That has been his plan – the entirety of his stupid plan.

  If they used their key fob to get out, Frieda would know. Amy was certain their entry and exit times were closely monitored and leaving at this hour would definitely trigger an alert.

  Amy looked up at him, the first flecks of panic in her eyes.

  ‘What do we do?’

  He had no answers for her, no backup plan. He could leave through the front door, maybe, draw the attention of their monitors. But the door was heavy and would be difficult to keep open, and Jason also needed to make their rendezvous tonight.

  What the hell do I do?

  The back door opened, and Ginny’s flatmate Dahlia stumbled in, with a boy on one arm and a girl on the other.

  Jason held the door for her, as Amy made a pretence of checking their mailbox. Dahlia didn’t even acknowledge their existence, and her friends were equally stoned.

  They were out before Dahlia tripped over the threshold.

  Chapter 10: Take Him Away, Boys

  Bryn’s nearly-new Mercedes Benz stuck out like a sore thumb in the Grangetown car park. Amy grabbed for the back door handle with a sweat-slicked hand, and almost wrenched her arm off as she flung it open.

  She slid across the seat, as Jason’s hooded shape followed her in. As soon as the door was shut, Bryn switched on the engine and moved off, driving like an angel out of Grangetown and towards Penarth – out of the city. Far away from surveillance and as many of Frieda’s spies as possible. Amy thought she must have better things to do than keep tabs on them, but then the incident at the ice cream parlour told her different.

  Amy was aware of the unnatural distance between her and Jason. Of course, they were separated by the empty middle seat, but Jason would usually be leaning into her, peering at whatever she held in her lap. Touching her arm, her shoulder. The casual touches had lessened since Owain had been around, but she felt he was holding himself away from her.

  That suited her just fine. She didn’t have the spoons to process what had happened, to deal with the emotional fallout of what they had done. What she had longed to do. She couldn’t think about it when he was about to be separated from her again for who knew how long.

  Catriona twisted in her seat and passed a small bundle back to Amy, who pushed back her hood – but only so far. She knew exactly how many of Cardiff’s streets were monitored, after all.

  ‘As requested. I’m not sure how well it will function in the Valleys, mind – the hills play havoc with the signal.’

  Amy unwrapped it and found a touchscreen device about the size of a smartphone, but considerably lighter. It came with two small silver discs, barely as big as her thumbnail. Amy handed one disc to Jason, who placed it in one of the secret compartments of his bag. She held up the other one and hesitated. She
needed to insert it into the hem of his hoodie, but now the thought of touching him, of lifting his clothes, felt too much and too close.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he muttered and held out his hand for the disc.

  She dropped it into his palm without touching him, cheeks starting to burn, before stuffing the handheld device into her own bag.

  ‘What’s this now?’ Bryn asked, straining to see in the rear view mirror.

  ‘Do you really want to know?’ Jason asked.

  ‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ Bryn said lightly, but Amy could hear the hesitation, the fear that Frieda would switch her attention to him, his career, his family.

  ‘GPS tracker. We need to be able to follow his movements – unless your friends have told you where he’s going tonight.’

  Amy caught the clench of his jaw in the brief flicker of a streetlight.

  ‘No. They haven’t.’

  ‘How’d you do it then?’ Jason asked.

  Bryn paused, caught between taking the credit and deniability.

  ‘It took a big favour,’ he said, cryptically. ‘And a lot of whisky for the Governor.’

  Amy had thought she was in favour of keeping things need-to-know, but when it was Jason’s wellbeing at stake, she needed to know everything.

  ‘What happens now?’ she asked, hearing the tremor in her voice. ‘Can we rely on these people?’

  ‘Do you trust me?’ Bryn asked.

  ‘Will you tell me?’ Amy countered. It wasn’t about trust. It was about feeling in control tonight, even though it was only an illusion.

  ‘You’re a very special prisoner, Jason,’ Catriona said, sounding gleeful about the whole thing. ‘You’re a prisoner of interest to Prevent, and your location and movements have to be hidden from your neo-Nazi comrades.’

  After a prison transport van had been hijacked in the Welsh valleys, the police had been very keen on precautions – and they might take more still if the cops involved knew they were conveying the same prisoner.

  ‘The next prisoner for “the Project” has food poisoning,’ Bryn said, finally. ‘It’s lucky we had a replacement ready to go.’