North of the Rock

by Ian Jones

  ‘The very same. Two weeks before the trial, Seaton and another man arrested with them called Greaves are murdered in Hutchins. Seaton is found stabbed in the showers and Greaves is beaten to death in the yard. And of course at this stage they aren’t in the main prison, they are still in the holding area in the jail. Now Seaton was about to be moved, it seems like he had things he wanted to say. There was a protection order raised against him, copy in the file. Greaves, well it seems he was just like Cage. No prints anywhere in the house in Highland Park other than in the living room, very vague statement, seemed scared and confused. Apparently, him and Cage shared a cell. Barlow visited Cage a day or two before it happened. Rest is history.’

  John thought hard.

  ‘Cage did the time for Barlow. So, are you saying Cage, who is now Cane, is here because Barlow owes him?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but Cage was left with nothing other than the fact he’s still breathing. Greaves getting murdered would have been a big warning. Maybe Greaves got the short straw, or maybe there was a reason for keeping Cage alive. Either way, Cage said nothing at the trial. His prison record is good, he didn’t need any protective custody, kept himself to himself. Treated for a melanoma on his tongue. Gets out, and next thing is he is in this town council or whatever it is.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever it is. I just met them, Barlow is one up tight prick. Abel seems to be the voice, Cane didn’t say a word. But they are up to something for sure.’

  ‘John, you need to take care. We still haven’t heard back from Howarth.’

  ‘What does that mean? I won’t be able to go tomorrow?’

  ‘It’s your choice I think. I don’t speak to them personally we have a liaison department, and they pass on the message, but I’m moving all the time now, heading toward you. Communication isn’t always great.’

  ‘Right. I’ll get up there tomorrow.’

  ‘Ok, I will be based in San Antonio, I will keep in touch.’

  ‘Yeah, you do that.’

  Chapter Eleven

  John decided he would take a proper look around the north side of the town, and walked all the way up the hill past the plant, then turned off down the road that led to the airport. There was a wide gap of rocky scrubland to the edge of the airport grounds, which were enclosed by a chain link fence. After the hill the land around was relatively flat, the runway less than a couple of hundred metres from the road. John carried on walking, and then came to the main entrance which was just a short drive off the road. There were low buildings on either side, the left with a large sign displaying ‘Gray Rock Passenger Terminal’. Beyond that, on the far side of the runway were other buildings, two large hangars and a line of storage sheds. He carried on, past the passenger terminal and then a long car park. He couldn’t really remember how this had been before, he had never seen it up close, but the buildings all looked new. The place wasn’t busy, there were a couple of men working by one of the hangars and a truck moving about but that was it.

  The road ended just past the airport at a couple of old rusty tin clad warehouses which were set back behind a tatty square concrete apron, again no sign of life. He stood, looking around then walked across the scrub until he was looking down the hill. The town was laid out in front of him. Closest were the big houses beyond and to the right of the massive plant. Some kind of landscaping had been done behind the houses, there were growing cypress trees presumably to act as a barrier to the plant and also the airport, but the trees were new and it was still possible to see through. The houses were close to the top of the hill in a long curve, and John could see another development out to the west. This was a large white building, and he could see groups of men working all around it. Heading downward, there were more houses, these were smaller and grouped together, and got denser as they reached the bottom. He could see the rock far away in the distance right at the very bottom of the hill, there was a road which ran south between the houses and the streets joining the east–west road which ran across in a straight line. He considered walking down past the plant across the scrub but decided all he was likely to do was end up looking at someone’s garden fence so turned and set off back the way he had come.

  The going was warm and dusty, and when he reached the bottom of the hill he bought a cold can of Coke from the diner, then set off back down the high street, this time turning off to head up the hill again on one of the side roads. There was a neat red brick church, and then it was all houses with turnings off on both sides that led to basically the same streets and cul-de-sacs, which were all laid out in an ordered pattern, everywhere was generally identical, the places just got a bit bigger and the gaps between a bit wider the further out he walked.

  As the houses started to thin out he turned left and followed a long road round. He saw the hospital, a two-storey building to his right. On impulse he walked over and in through the main entrance. There was a lobby with some vending machines and a low counter opposite, an elderly lady in a starched uniform sitting behind it. John told her he was staying in the motel and had found a couple of men passed out in the car park, so he had called in to see how they were. The woman looked confused. There had been no admissions at all for over a week. John nodded, apologised, and left; that was no real surprise. He walked back to the long road and followed it to see where it took him. There was a junior school, and then more houses, and finally a high school. All new and shiny. Further out he could turn left again and head back down into the town. On his right there was the turning to the road with the big houses, so he decided to follow that. They were very grand, with double and triple garages and huge gardens, none of which were established yet. At the end of the road there was another turning, with an elegant green and gold sign which read ‘Gray Rock Country Club’. That had to be the white building he had seen with all the men working to the west. It didn’t interest him so he walked back and then down the road into town. More houses, and there was a football stadium with a big car park on the right. This would have surprised John had he not seen it from the motel, or spoken to the two young men the night before as he knew there was already a football stadium on the south side, next to the original high school. He walked around it, not much to see other than a banner with ‘Go Dragons’ written on it. He realised it had been built on the land behind the house that Anthony Collis lived in, and decided to walk round to have a look. Nothing had changed, it was just as he remembered it, but now the land was covered in buildings. He wondered idly if someone else lived in the house now.

  It was a strange town; he had been walking around for more than a couple of hours and had hardly seen anyone. Nobody really out and about, there had been a few shoppers in the high street but that was it. And only a few cars driving around. He had seen some street sweepers, and a garbage collection truck moving slowly around. He knew a lot of people would be at work but he had never been anywhere so soulless in his life. Here and there he had seen the same ‘Justice for Anthony’ posters fixed up, but there was no sign at all of any excitement over the news of Collis’s impending release. It looked like the FBI had got that wrong, perhaps people genuinely didn’t care anymore.

  He walked back into the town, ended up at the square at the bottom end of the high street by the Radisson hotel and followed it back toward the diner end, past the office door which was now closed. He went into a café and had a chicken sandwich and sat eating it, again wondering at the lack of people. Once he had finished he left and walked along to turn right opposite the diner and down to the east–west road. He crossed it and walked onto the plaza. The rock sat there glowing in the sun. He saw the fat sheriff come out and get into his car, then went to drive out but stopped, staring out the windscreen at him. John gave him a cheery wave and then walked across to enter the south side.

  The difference was immediate.

  Here, there were people. The remaining shops were smaller and scruffier, and there were nowhere near as many but the place felt alive. He walked along the street, which had changed a l
ot but everyone was getting on with their lives. He walked past a small park on his left with a children’s playground close to the road. It was immaculate, with all the apparatus shiny and brightly painted. And the streets were clean, no rubbish anywhere. John guessed that they did all this for themselves, the town’s focus was the north, so here in the south they didn’t look anywhere else for help.

  He walked the full length of the main street among the shoppers, a mix of colours, and nobody looked at him twice. The majority of the people were Hispanic or black, and mostly women. The restaurant that he remembered looking over the rock, the town hall and the sheriff’s office was still there. In the park some kind of event was taking place, kids were running races and proud parents were watching. It was a happy place, a million miles away from what had been built less than a hundred metres on the other side of the rock. John walked back to the centre of the street and then turned and followed the road to the south, walking through the houses. He passed a big old wooden church, that was listing slightly but in tidy grounds. Here, it wasn’t the uniform grid that the north had, the road meandered and there were many turnings off on each side. The houses were all different, a wide mix of small and smaller, some with gardens, most close to their neighbours. As he walked he passed a workshop, guys working on cars, a hardware store, another church, a busy Mexican restaurant, and the old high school with the stadium behind. But as he got further south he started to see the impact on the old town. On one side were some small warehouses in a line, now all boarded up, then a closed down petrol station and all the few remaining houses here were in disrepair. It was like the town had shrunk in on itself and headed up toward the main street. He reached the edge and saw the road veered off to the left, a little more than a gravel and dirt track that joined up with another headed south. The border was maybe thirty or so miles away give or take.

  He sighed.

  How had this happened? How could a whole new town be built almost on top of another, in a little over ten years?

  Disheartened, he continued to follow the road until he reached the point where it linked up with the other, which was a similar surface, only wider and then he turned north. It became tarmac again shortly after, and he followed it along, the old town to his left. Eventually, he arrived back at the sheriff’s office and town hall.

  He had seen all he needed to.

  He headed back to the motel and laid down, deciding to take a nap before meeting with Gilbey. Sleep when you can, he believed in that.

  He woke up just after six, and felt refreshed. He had a shower and decided to drive to Big Lil’s, he had been walking all day, and he couldn’t see that Gilbey was expecting a big night out.

  Outside the sun was setting, and it felt a bit cooler. He climbed into the car and reversed out, there weren’t many other cars parked, the motel still wasn’t busy. He drove onto the road, down past the diner and turned right at the east–west road, passing the now glowing orange rock on his left and followed the road out of town.

  The car park outside Big Lil’s was busier than last night, with a line of Harleys right outside the front doors. John parked up and got out the car and walked across toward the entrance. He was about half way over when he heard the now familiar rumbling farting noise and Gilbey appeared, turning off the road and bumping across the uneven surface without really slowing down much. He ignored the other motorbikes and drifted into a spot, almost exactly where he had parked previously and killed the engine. Silence now, apart from a low bass thump coming from inside the bar. He pulled off his helmet and dropped it on the seat and grinned over at John. As he did so he glanced behind and nodded sharply. John turned to see what Gilbey was looking at. On the rear edge of the car park was a new red pick-up truck facing out. There were two men inside, both wearing pale polo shirts. Just sitting, watching.

  Gilbey shook his head and raised a middle finger high in the air, then he and John walked inside.

  They went over to the bar and John looked around. The bikers had pulled a couple of tables together and were sitting in the centre of the room, pitchers of beer in front of them. One called out ‘Hey big dog!’ at Gilbey as he passed, who flapped a hand in response and sat down in his usual space. Elsewhere the place was pretty much as it had been at his last visit, small knots of white men sitting around, some playing pool. Very few women, a couple of young and pretty waitresses darting around with trays of beer, ribs and fried food. John sat down on a stool next to Gilbey, and two bottles of Budweiser were placed in front of them without anyone asking. Gilbey took a long drink and burped quietly.

  ‘Wonder what those assholes are doing sitting out there watching this place,’ he commented, not showing any sign of real concern.

  John shrugged.

  ‘No idea. I don’t recognise them. Neither of them were the guys from last night. I’m not surprised about that though.’

  ‘Me neither. Sounds like you fucked those assholes up,’ Gilbey smiled, and tapped his bottle against John’s.

  ‘So you don’t normally see them here then?’ John asked.

  ‘Don’t normally see them period. They’re like a rumour, but everyone knows they exist. I ain’t bothered about them, if any started something with me I’d hurt them like you did. But nobody knows who they are, or how many of them there are. The two outside ain’t familiar to me neither, I’d say they ain’t from the town, but it’s possible. I guess you stirred ’em up, brother.’

  ‘It wasn’t my intention. Anyone leaves me alone, then no problem. Happy days. But if they don’t then I’m likely to be the arsehole.’

  ‘I get that. But you’re the reason they’re sitting there.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Outside in the car park the two Regulators sat silently, waiting. They had made the phone call as requested so now they needed directions. They would get their orders.

  No mistakes, they had been told. There has been enough go wrong already.

  Both men were relatively new to the job, and anxious to move up the ladder where the money and rewards were better for sure. And respect. They didn’t get a lot of that. They had heard things had gone wrong the previous night, and that Gary had been badly hurt. Gary, he was the best as far as they were concerned, a hard, hard man. Nobody ever messed with him.

  But he was out of action, and they didn’t know why or what had happened, nobody was talking about it.

  Headlights appeared, and moved into the car park, circling around and then heading straight for them. The car pulled alongside and the driver’s window dropped down, they did the same.

  Hunter looked up at them.

  They hadn’t expected to see him, and both men asked themselves why was he here? And now they were wary.

  ‘So, he’s inside?’ Hunter asked looking out at the Roadhouse.

  ‘Yeah, yeah he came in with that fucker Gilbey. Maybe half an hour ago,’ the driver told him.

  ‘Ok then. So tell me, what’s the plan?’

  Hunter stared at the two men unblinking. The Regulator sitting in the driver seat looked down at him and swallowed.

  ‘Well, we were told to wait here.’

  ‘Ok, and then what?’

  ‘We jump him. Then the sheriff takes him in.’

  ‘Carter takes him in? How is this gonna work?’

  ‘He’s on his way, he’s gonna wait in the corner. Out the back. Then we jump the motherfucker when he comes out, he gets a beating then the sheriff locks him up for disturbing the peace.’

  ‘That’s your plan?’

  ‘That’s what we were told.’

  ‘By who?’

  ‘By the sheriff. He said the guy made him look like an asshole.’

  ‘Jesus Christ. That’s because he is an asshole. And so are you two for having any part of this bullshit. This guy is connected for Christ’s sakes. To the fucking FBI. Nobody tell you that? You jump him, two against one and that fat prick Carter takes him in? More wasted fucking time and effort. And more busted arms is my guess. Get the fuc
k out of here. Now. And from now on I give the fucking orders.’

  ‘Yeah, but …’

  ‘Shut the fuck up. It’s lucky someone got the brains to call me, or you two would be all busted up and Carter would be in an ever deeper pool of shit. Get going.’

  The Regulator started the pick-up and rolled out. Hunter reversed, turned and followed them. As they got back on the road the sheriff’s cruiser pulled up and Hunter waved it down. He stuck his head out the window and glared at Carter, who looked anywhere else. He too was scared of Hunter.

  ‘You really are a prick, you know that right?’ Hunter snarled.

  ‘What? I was just doing what was needed,’ Carter replied indignantly. He had hastily put all this together and was proud to be doing what needed to be done.

  ‘No, you were going to get those boys hurt and leave me another two down you asshole. Then one phone call and you got the Feds breathing down your fat neck again. Jesus Christ. If I was you I’d get back to counting paperclips or whatever the fuck you waste your time doing in the evenings.’

  ‘I’m the sheriff and …’

  Hunter interrupted and pointed out the window.

  ‘Listen to me. You are who we say you are. You do what we say. You pull shit like this again and I swear you will be sorry.’

  Hunter rolled the window up and powered away fast, leaving Carter to wonder what he had done wrong this time.

  Back inside Gilbey looked around, his eyes following a waitress as she scooted back into the kitchen behind the bar.

  ‘So I’m gonna introduce you to Rita, she’s kind of my niece, but not really. Her dad was an old friend of Carrie’s, she was like a big sister to him. He ain’t around no more.’

  John nodded and looked around again.

  ‘Not many women in here, which one is Rita?’

  The waitress barrelled out of the kitchen again, tray piled high with food that she placed on the biker’s table; skilfully dodging the hands that were reaching out at her backside from all directions.