by Paul Watson
‘Let her go,’ Andy said.
‘What’s it got to do with you Boss?’ the other yob stood between Andy and the embrace.
Amy learned self-defence during her police induction course, but she preferred Jamie’s home tutoring. The diamond, on her right ring finger gleamed, and she remembered her surprise when Jamie gave her the ring for her birthday; he’d inherited money from his Grandpa and bought it from Hatton Garden.
‘Are you proposing?’ Amy had said.
‘No, but you mean a lot,’ Jamie had answered.
Amy had hidden her disappointment and kissed him.
Amy visited the shop in Hatton Garden for ring resizing and enjoyed the experience. The man in the store offered good advice on sizing up to J; to provide room for expansion during the summer.
The extra room for expansion allowed Amy to rotate the ring, so the diamond sat on the palm side of her finger. Amy then rubbed it across Tattoo man’s knuckles.
‘Ah shit, she’s digging her nails in Mikey, it’ll take more than that though.’
Mikey grappled with Andy and blocked the way.
Tattoo man often chose poor options; today was no exception. The diamond scraped his bone, and he released his grip; the knuckles on his left hand bled from a gaping wound.
‘She’s trashed my hand, Mikey.’
Mikey struggled to respond as Andy pushed him up against a wall, face first.
The lift arrived, and the doors opened.
Tattoo man grasped Amy’s ring hand and pulled it behind her back. He resumed his bear hug, dragged her into the lift and pressed the basement car park button. The lift doors closed, and it descended. Tattoo man licked his fat tongue across Amy’s ear.
Amy had laughed when Jamie first showed her the next trick.
‘I’ll never use that move,’ she had said.
Amy used that move though. Stepping to her right, Amy bent her knees, and threw her head forwards and downwards, bending at the waist. Tattoo man clamped Amy’s arm tight against her body, but her sideways step meant that the man’s balls were in line as she swung her hand back in a chop. The impact was clean and crisp; the guy let go. Amy added a twist to the manoeuvre by grabbing the guy’s balls and wrenching them clockwise.
Shorts were another poor choice for Tattoo man. Amy felt something tear: not the shorts.
Andy heard the screams as he ran down the stairs and found Amy stood outside the lift in the car park. The guy slumped on the lift floor, his leg blocked the door, and blood ran down his shorts.
‘I’ll call the police,’ Amy said. ‘He’ll need medical attention though.’
Rob took the call to go to the hospital. He’d booked back on for night duty a few hours ago and had intended to pop into the hospital to check on his injured colleague. Rob found Amy and Andy downstairs in the canteen.
‘Your man’s upstairs Rob getting stitches,’ said Amy.
‘Thanks, Amy, we checked on him and arrested him; he’s not going anywhere,’
Rob smiled at her. It reminded Amy of her father’s smile when she’d put in a match-winning tackle at soccer at school.
‘Hello again,’ Rob said to Andy. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘My son drank stuff we found in Steve’s case last night. It’s put him in here.’
‘Very sad about your friend. CID are investigating everything that went on last night, and they’ll tie it together, we’ll find out what’s happening. It looks like Jamie’s already sorted the man that shot your friend. How’s Mr Perfect Amy, heard he would be ok?’
‘He’s weak, and he took a good bang to the head; he’s asleep now.’
‘I’ll leave him to you for the moment, but you let me know when you think he’ll want company.’
Doctor Rama approached them. ‘We’ve got more of the toxicology back.’ The doctor waited for Andy to look at him. ‘There is a synthetic chemical in there that resembles the body’s natural adenosine. The chemical binds to receptors in the brain and is stopping your son waking. Unlike natural adenosine, it doesn’t disperse as you sleep. It’s odd to see it; I only know of it because a former colleague experimented on rats with it as part of her research. Your son’s brain is racing, stimulated by amphetamine, but asleep.’
‘Will it wear off?’
‘Unknown. In the rat trials, they created a formula, an antidote, that would strip the synthetic adenosine from the binders and allow the rats to wake.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘The drug had no real name; the pharmaceutical company called it Reflux.’
‘Sounds like baby sick.’
‘You’re not wrong; the word reflux means: “a flowing back”. That’s what the drug does, allows the consciousness to flow back. I’ve called my friend, Julia Matthews, who organised the trials. She wrote a paper on it and she’s got ideas. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.’
‘Can I borrow your phone please Amy?’ said Andy.
‘Course you can, here you go.’
‘How’s the Sarge?’ Amy said to Rob.
‘It’s tough on him Amy; a death in custody is everyone’s nightmare, but it’s not negligence; it’s organised crime. That FME just disappeared.’
Andy studied the phone’s internet browser as the officers spoke. The paper published by Matthews showed a pharmaceutical company in Ireland, called Tichi, had synthesised the drugs used in the trials. Andy showed the screen to the officers.
‘Steve came back from Ireland yesterday and brought that crap with him. I’m going over there to fetch the antidote.’
‘You do what you need to mate,’ Rob said. ‘Just so you know though, we’ve got one man strangled in a theatre, one poisoned in a police station, a man shot at Kings Cross and your mate Steve. You’ve got a family; leave it to us.’
‘Do you want to borrow this?’ Rob handed over a mobile charging battery pack to Andy. ‘Keep it; it’s a freebie from a conference, I’ve got a few at home. I’d suggest you check your messages, CID will want to talk to you.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate it. I hope your boyfriend feels better in the morning Amy.’
‘Hope your son does too.’
Andy left the hospital through the Accident and Emergency exit, rushed through the doors and bumped a man on his way out. The Passat stood in the nearest bay of the car park, next to the disabled spaces. Sat behind the wheel, Andy pictured the conversation that would take place at home.
‘What did the doctor say?’ Jess would say.
‘He’s leaving him to see if he wakes,’ Andy would say.
‘If not, what’s he going to do?’
‘He’s got no options, the drug he needs is not available.’
Not good. Andy set the Sat Nav for Stansted Airport.
TWENTY
Jennings Sports should have a pair of trainers, Roberts thought. He stood outside the shop in a market square. Dry Molbury had a fitting name; the sun blazed overhead.
‘Hot as I can remember,’ Julia said. ‘The last time was 1976.’
‘You can’t remember that?’
‘No, I was two, but my mum tells me about it, whenever we get sunshine. This summer’s crazy though, no rain for two months.’
‘Are you sure you want to go for a run in this heat? Maybe we should lie in a darkened room?’
‘No darkened rooms today. I wish I hadn’t entered this marathon now, but my friends insisted. I’m going along for the drinks afterwards, but I want to be still talking at the end.’
Inside the store were racks of trainers on one wall.
‘I’ll take a pair of 11’s in those.’ Roberts pointed at a white pair near the floor.
‘Would you like me to analyse your gait first?’ The shop assistant said, pointing to a treadmill by the window. ‘Did you bring in your old trainers?’
Roberts opened his mouth to reply, and Julia interrupted. Julia had a black sports bag over her shoulder.
‘You get your gait analysed.’ Julia turned to the shop assistant. �
�Is it ok if I get changed in your changing room? I’ve just come from work.’
‘Sure.’ He gave Julia a key from a hook on the desk. ‘If you jump up on to the track please Sir.’ Roberts followed orders; habit.
The machine started, and Roberts ran at the pace of the belt. The shop guy looked at Roberts’s running style from the front and the rear. ‘You overpronate. I’ll get you a pair to try.’ The assistant disappeared into the backroom leaving the treadmill running.
The guy returned with a box and pushed the stop button. ‘Try these on, they’ve got extra cushioning, and reinforcement in the midsole to give stability.’ An older man behind the till was listening to the assistant’s sales talk and smiled.
Roberts put on the trainers and returned to the machine; the kid hit the button again. ‘Much better, they’ve improved your stability, I would go for those.’
‘They feel good, how much?’
‘£59.99.’
‘OK, I’ll take them.’ Roberts hit the stop button. ‘A pair of medium shorts, a t-shirt and socks too, I’ll let you choose.’
Julia appeared from the changing room. Roberts appreciated the tight fitting lycra she’d donned. A baseball cap held the hair from her eyes, and she beamed over a smile.
‘Ready when you are Mr Roberts.’ Roberts paid cash for the clothes, kept the receipts for expenses, got changed and then met Julia outside in the market square. Julia was filling a water bottle from the fountain. ‘There’s a natural spring about halfway along the run; we can refill then.’ Julia clipped the water bottle into a belt and handed him one.
Roberts noticed a man, ten years younger, pushing a pram across the market square, on his way to Starbucks. The man took in the full view of Julia checking her laces. Roberts checked out the man’s wife; not a patch on Julia.
‘We’ll leave the car here; we can get out into the fields over by the garage.’
‘You lead.’ Roberts followed Julia across the square and over the road. They passed by the garage and then they were on a dirt track and out in the open countryside. Open and flat; a few hedges interrupted fields of wheat at the horizon. ‘No hills? This looks a boring run.’ They were single file through a path cut through the wheat.
‘How can a run with me be boring? Stop looking at my bum.’
‘It brightens up my day. How long have you been training?’
‘Every day for two months now.’ Julia got out of breath. ‘I train with a friend, but she’s working at the hospital today?’
‘Doctor too?’
‘Nurse. Four of us are going over to New York in November. We heard it’s a great atmosphere.’
‘It is. The start from Staten Island, over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and into Brooklyn is spectacular.’
‘You’ve run it?’ Julia turned to look at him.
‘I only ran the first bit; I was working. One man didn’t make it over the bridge; I guess his rich running club buddy became jealous.’
‘You joking?’
‘I’m not sure. You talk a lot when running.’
‘My friend said it’s best to keep talking while you run; if you’re out of breath, then you’re running too fast for a marathon.’
They continued along the single-track for a few miles, the path alternated from bounding the fields, to cutting straight through the middle. The farmer had designated it a permitted path but could revoke his consent according to the signposts. After running for around half an hour, they emerged into an orchard. Apple trees rested motionless in the green enclave; there was no wind today. A fence line ran along the grove with a gate opening onto the first hill Roberts had seen.
‘There’s a tap over there,’ Julia said. ‘We can refill the bottles.’ The tap protruded from the wall of a shed, connected to a hose for a low-cost irrigation system. Next to the tube were a claw hammer and nails. Timber stakes leaned against the shed wall next to a bundle of coated wire. Roberts drew up a small length of the wire, took a fragment of one stake and put them in his pocket.
Julia bent down and disconnected the hose from the tap. Roberts picked up the hammer behind her; Julia couldn’t see him.
Julia felt a hand on her ankle. ‘Hold still; you’ve got a nail stuck in your heel,’ said Roberts. The nail slid out of the shoe, clamped in the jaws of the hammer. ‘You stood on that pile of nails while you were filling your bottle. I fear your air pockets have burst; you might have to see the man at the sports shop.’
‘Good to have you watching out for me Roberts, I get through trainers like wine, this pair only had a few runs left in them. The plan is to sprint to the top of this hill, go over the top and a steady run back. You’re not even out of breath. You go first, and I’ll catch you. Drink water.’ Julia handed over her bottle.
The water was cold, straight from the ground. Roberts emptied the container, refilled it and then gave it back. ‘This is the first hill I’ve seen around here; it looks out of place.’
Julia took another swig. ‘It’s a barrow, a bronze age burial mound. It looks cheery for a place filled with death; there’s a stone circle on the top with a great view.’
‘Last one to the stone circle buys dinner.’ Roberts shot off up the hill pumping his knees. His stride ate up the climb, and he breathed in through the nose and out through the mouth. Roberts tasted acid at the back of his throat, his perception narrowed, and he experienced pain in his chest and legs, but his pace didn’t slow. Julia knew how the brain works; Roberts knew how his mind worked; experience taught him that the pain doesn’t kill. Roberts’s heart rate pushed 170 beats a minute; prefrontal cortex in charge, endure the pain, and don’t let it mess with the mission. Roberts pushed on to the stone circle; he smiled and pushed harder. A rabbit ran into a hole as he approached the summit. The sun glinted on the rocks in the circle; Roberts touched a monolith and stopped.
Ten seconds later, his heart rate was one hundred and forty, and thirty seconds later only seventy. Roberts breathed and gazed down the barrow; Julia was still far from the summit. He stood behind the monolith and watched Dry Molbury shimmer in the heat haze. To the west were a few barns, and the rest was fields, trees and fences. An exposed spot with nobody looking. Roberts picked up a rock, different to the others. The surface shone, and the edge glinted.
Julia arrived at the stone circle. Where was Roberts? Most days, Julia ran with music playing through her earphones, connected to her phone that sat in a pouch strapped to her arm, but not today. Julia listened. No wind blew, no birds sang; the intense sun brought silence. With hands behind her ears, she walked around the circle breathing, and trying to slow her heart rate. A path ran down the barrow on the far side: it trundled back to the town. There was no sign of Roberts on the trail.
A stone slab lay on the grass, in the circle’s centre, shaded by the surrounding monoliths. Sitting on the flat stone, Julia pondered its original purpose; she shivered in the thirty-degree heat, and sat, and waited.
Roberts held the rock in one hand and his pocket knife in the other. He was behind Julia, out of sight, obscured by a smaller ring of monoliths within the bigger circle, it was perfect.
It was better this way; he liked the element of surprise.
Roberts struck the rock with his knife and specks of glowing metal fell into the dry grass and sticks enclosed by the stone ring.
‘Give me a hand with this will you please?’ Roberts said. Julia turned towards the voice; flames licked up through a gap in the stones. ‘Can you watch this please? The fire should be OK, there’s more wood there if we need it.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To see if we’ve got lucky.’ Roberts disappeared over the hill. He returned five minutes later, with a big grin, and a dead rabbit in his hand. Around the rabbit’s neck was a wire loop fixed to a wooden stake. ‘I saw Bugs run into a hole as I ran up the hill. It was difficult getting the spike into the hard ground, and he’d almost pulled it out by the time I got back there.’
‘He’s so cute; we can’t eat
him. I thought you were a vegetarian.’
‘I sometimes lapse and I’m sure eating a rabbit’s not the worst thing you’ve done this week, have you got any better plans for lunch?’ Roberts skinned the rabbit and cooked it on a spit. They sat on the stone slab and ate in the shade, sharing Julia’s water.
‘Are you going to kill me?’
‘I was.’
‘What’s stopping you.’
‘My limbic system; the ape in me, ten times more powerful than my frontal cortex. But you know already; that’s why you invited me last night. You let me stay in your office and use your shampoo; you bought me breakfast and wore tight lycra.’
‘I knew I was dead otherwise; perhaps the running’s kept me alive?’
‘No, it’s your eyes and everything that goes with them. Laws will hunt us both now.’
‘You need to kill him. Before tomorrow.’
‘What happens tomorrow?’
‘Genesis.’
TWENTY-ONE
‘Flights: Stansted to Dublin tonight.’ Andy talked to his car a lot; share price and weather updates punctuated the boredom of motorway driving, but he needed to download audiobooks.
‘I can’t help you with that but I’m always learning,’ said the digital assistant through the car’s speakers.
Andy pulled over, not in a layby, but on enough grass verge to get the car off the road. Horns hooted as the fast-moving traffic sped past on the dual carriageway. Andy unplugged his phone from the USB cable and bought a flight, leaving at 2205.
No passport, shit.
Andy headed for home at the next exit. Jess had reversed into the drive. He parked in front of Jess’s car; the bumpers of the vehicles kissed as he hit the stop button.
Andy put the key in the door and sneaked along the corridor into his office. He knew he’d missed his flight now, but Andy wanted to be on the move, to stay at the airport, on with his mission to save Max.
‘What are you sneaking around doing?’
Rumbled
‘I’m going over to Ireland Jess. There’s a drug over there that Max might need.’