by Jim Reeves
‘What were you doing?’ Fish asked as Joe reached him.
‘Dragging him off the track,’ Joe said. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’
Chapter 33
Joe led the way. The return walk to the station was made at a slow pace and Joe’s breathing got easier. His equilibrium returned and his spirits rose. His clothes however were in a filthy state after his rough and tumble with Bruno.
One or two people were standing around, maybe waiting for the next train, as Joe and Fish scrambled up from the track onto the platform.
‘I forgot to buy a ticket,’ Joe told one startled looking elderly gentleman.
‘Come on,’ urged Fish, anxious not to make contact with anybody. ‘Cut the crap. Let’s go.’
‘Where are you parked?’ asked Joe as they hurried up the ramp.
‘Short stay.’ Fished eyed Joe doubtfully. ‘Don’t fancy you in my motor though.’
Minutes later they were out of the car park. Joe breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Pull into the service area across the motorway.’
‘What for?’ asked Fish.
‘I need a pee for one thing,’ Joe told him. ‘Also, I might be able to get rid of some of these clothes.’
Fish skirted the roundabout over the motorway and turned into the service area. Joe got out the car and transferred his wallet and coins from his jacket to his trouser pockets. He stuffed Bruno’s wallet and passport into the hold-all. Then he peeled off the soiled jacket rolled it into a tight ball and rammed it into a litter bin at the side of the car park. His shirt was also soiled but was in a much better state than his jacket.
‘Let’s take a look inside,’ Joe said.
‘Unfortunately, the only clothing on offer was a selection of t-shirts and sweatshirts, mostly in garish colours, many bearing Union Jacks or regrettable logos. Joe decided to pass on the t-shirts but found a dull green sweatshirt, his size.
They visited the toilets and Joe attempted to clean himself up as much as he could with paper towels and water from a wash basin. He peeled off his shirt and donned the sweatshirt. After a hot coffee and a tired looking sandwich, they were on their way again. Joe pushed the soiled shirt into the bin with the jacket as they crossed the car park.
‘So what happened?’ Fish finally asked as they joined the M11 heading north.
‘A lot of stuff you wouldn’t want to know about,’ Joe told him.
‘Try me. We’ve got a couple of hours to kill.’
‘There’s some real bad people in this world,’ muttered Joe. Fish glanced at him, waiting for him to continue.
‘While we’re living our lives, playing Billy-bigtime, there’s a lot of shit going on we wouldn’t dream about in our worst nightmares,’ Joe said. He related some of what had happened in Austria. The little he knew about the paedophile porn ring. How there had been some serious attempts to keep him quiet. He omitted the part about him depositing Otto Braun deep in a heavy bank of snow less than twenty four hours earlier. He didn’t want to worry Fish too much and preferred to forget it himself.
‘Who was that bloke on the railway track?’ asked Fish.
‘That was Bruno,’ smiled Joe. ‘Didn’t like me too much.’
‘I could see that.’ said Fish. ‘What happens if he comes after you?’
‘I think he’s probably got the message by now,’ Joe said quietly as he stared at the passing traffic. ‘Forget about him.’ He closed his eyes and leaned back. He had no thoughts about going back to help Bruno.
‘Will anybody else come after you?’ asked Fish.
‘I just need to sort a few things out with George Bishop,’ Joe told him. ‘Should be okay then.’
Chapter 34
It was four in the afternoon when Fish brought the car to a halt a few yards into Gas Street. The sky was overcast and the light was already fading.
‘Thanks for the ride,’ Joe said. ‘I owe you one.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ asked Fish.
‘No. I’m probably just being paranoid,’ Joe said. ‘But after the last couple of days, I just want to play it safe. I’ll take a slow walk home and suss things out before I get too close.’
‘Do you want me to come round and pick up the gun later?’ asked Fish.
‘Maybe I should hang on to it for a while,’ Joe said.
‘You’ve changed your tune a bit,’ said Fish.
‘I got a couple of things to sort out. Might come in handy as a frightener.’
Joe took out his wallet and peeled several notes from the wad inside. ‘Here.’ He offered the money to Fish.
‘What’s that for?’ asked Fish.
‘A hundred for the gun and a hundred for your trouble. You’ve been a mate.’
‘You won the bleeding Lottery?’ asked Fish.
‘Not yet,’ smiled Joe. ‘Take it.’
Fish took the money and pushed it into his pocket. ‘Should keep Betty quiet if nothing else.’
‘You think your mate could get any bullets for the gun?’ asked Joe.
‘No way,’ said Fish, vehemently. ‘You’re looking at big trouble if the Law find you with that thing loaded.’
‘I’ve already got big trouble.’
‘Forget bullets,’ advised Fish.
Joe shrugged, opened the car door and stepped onto the pavement. He took his bag from the back seat. ‘I’ll call you,’ he told Fish.
‘Watch yourself.’
Joe slammed the door and Fish drove off. Joe walked back to Broad Street and headed in the direction of the canal.
It was practically dark when Joe walked slowly up the steps from the canal towpath. He didn’t step into the street. Instead he waited and listened. There was no sound other than distant traffic at the far end of the street. His apartment building was about fifty yards away. He stayed close to the wall and kept his head low as he eased forward to look up the street. The street was a dead end to the left with just a small parking area for residents and visitors.
Joe was on his knees as he inched forward. A couple of kids were kicking a small ball around in the street just a few yards away. Beyond them, close to the entrance to his apartment building a car was parked by the kerb. A dark blue Jaguar XF.
In the fading light, it was hard to be sure, but Joe guessed that Vince, George Bishop’s pet thug, was either in the car or somewhere close by. Maybe even in his apartment. Joe looked up to the third floor and located the windows of his apartment. There were no lights, no signs of life.
Joe drew away from the opening and sat down with his back against the wall. He needed time to think. If he made a wrong move he could still end up dead. The fun and games would be over. He didn’t fancy his chances of reaching the car unseen. The street was too quiet. Also, he didn’t have a brick to use on Vince and bare hands certainly wouldn’t be enough.
Braun must have called Bishop when Joe went on the run in Eichl. Vince was probably there just as a precaution. Bishop couldn’t know that Joe was already home. How would they have got his address? Patti Birch maybe? Joe doubted that. A man like Bishop wouldn’t find it a big problem anyway. One thing was certain. Trouble had followed Joe from Austria and he had a few more loose ends to tie up before he could get on with his life. He rolled onto his knees and crept back towards the steps. He needed some tender loving care. A hot bath and a strong black coffee would be nice while he gathered his thoughts, although a plan was already forming.
Just as he was about to descend the steps something smacked him hard on the side of the head. He rocked slightly and started to rise, ready to ward off more blows. A tennis ball bounced close to his feet and the two young lads were looking at him wide-eyed and afraid. He patted the ball back towards them and it bounced back onto the street. One of the lads grabbed the ball and they ran off up the street past the Jaguar.
Joe crouched down peered cautiously over the top of the low wall. After a brief pause the car door opened. Vince eased himself out onto the pavement and looked first after the two
lads running away then back up the street towards where Joe was crouching. Joe lowered his head and listened. His mouth was dry, his heart was pounding and his breathing was loud and ragged. He heard footsteps slowly approaching. Still crouching he hurried back down the steps towards the towpath. He ducked under the bridge at the bottom of the steps and looked up and down the towpath. No signs of life, no real cover and too far to run to the next bridge. Joe wondered if Vince carried a gun. If he did, Joe would be a sitting duck on the towpath. He heard the footsteps on the pavement above now and pressed himself hard against the wall, hoping the darkness would swallow him.
In the street above, a car approached with its radio blaring loudly. The footsteps stopped briefly as the headlights lit up the street and swung towards the resident’s parking area.
The canal, still in the early evening with little boat traffic, looked as thick as butter in the reflected glow from the street lights above. Joe dropped his bag close against the wall. He didn’t think it would be noticed in the dark. Then he stepped quietly to the edge of the towpath, lay down and lowered himself gently into the murky water, trying hard not to create a splash. The water was colder than Joe had imagined. It penetrated his clothes in seconds, causing him to gasp out loud. He clawed for a hold in the wall just above the surface and found a gap in the brickwork. He held himself close to the wall hardly daring to breath. Hoping he hadn’t been heard. His face just broke the surface about two feet below the towpath. He had to remain completely still. If he made any movement Vince would be sure hear the splashing of the water. The footsteps came slowly down the steps and stopped a few feet away. Joe trembled. He fought hard to stifle his cough but knew he would soon lose the battle. If Vince stepped forward to look into the water Joe would be a dead man.
A narrow boat appeared under the bridge at Broad Street more than a hundred yards away and moved slowly towards Joe and Vince. Joe clung desperately to the wall. His fingers were slipping on the wet surface but he couldn’t renew his grip. Even that movement in the water would be sure to attract Vince’s attention. The boat chugged closer. Joe looked round and could see that there were lights inside the living quarters. A man was at the stern steering. He seemed to be looking for a place to moor up for the night. If he saw Joe he would surely call out to him, assuming he was in trouble, which he definitely was. Joe had to get out of sight.
Still holding on with his left hand, Joe slid his right hand under water and found another gap in the brick work. He pulled himself down, still close against the wall but submerged completely under water. He held his breath and hung on as the throb of the engine grew closer and the cold water numbed his senses mercilessly. He could hear the thud of the engine and feel the pressure of the swell from the boat as it scudded by almost overhead. Every sinew was stretched to the limit as he fought to hang on in the biting cold. Finally, with ears popping, heart and lungs close to bursting, he could endure it no longer, he had no choice but to rise back to the surface. His lungs desperately dragged in the cold night air as he blinked up at the black sky. He felt light headed and weak from exertion. He could no longer fully stifle his coughing but the relentless throbbing of the boat’s engine drowned out the sound.
‘Evening,’ the man cheerfully called as he drew alongside. For one crazy moment Joe thought the man was speaking to him. He turned his head to look over his left shoulder as the boat passed by, less than two feet away and realised the he was calling out to Vince.
‘How do,’ said Vince gruffly.
Obviously, Vince had diverted attention to the towpath. Joe was barely visible in the darkness, so low in the water.
‘Any idea where I can find a mooring?’ asked the man.
‘A few hundred yards further on,’ said Vince. ‘You should get in there.’
‘Cheers mate,’ the man called as he continued on his way.
Joe was wondering if he had lost a chance of salvation. Maybe he should have called out to the man. Too late now. But how would Vince have reacted? Maybe Joe had done the guy on the boat a favour.
Several more seconds passed then the footsteps receded and appeared to ascend the steps. Joe clung on but allowed himself to renew his grip. He waited two more minutes. That was all he could manage as the cold ate through him into his bones. Then he reached up to the ledge of the towpath. It was all he could do to pull himself out of the water. His sodden clothes weighed heavily and he hung precariously by his fingertips for several agonising seconds until he finally managed to hook one leg onto the ledge. He dug into the wall with his other foot and pushed himself, retching and spitting, onto the towpath. He lay coughing up canal water for maybe a minute. He was barely conscious and had lost all sense of time. Vince must have been back in his car or he couldn’t have failed to hear him. Joe crawled on all fours towards the wall and steadied himself as he rose to his feet and retrieved his bag then he turned and tottered down the towpath towards the next bridge.
Chapter 35
Joe stopped for a scalding cup of coffee at a fast food place near Five Ways while he considered his options. He had ideas about how he might handle the threat of Vince but he needed to get into his apartment before he could do that. He doubted that Vince would be conducting twenty-four hour surveillance. More than likely he was just keeping a regular watch in the hope Joe would eventually turn up.
He drank the coffee slowly, holding the large cardboard cup tightly in both hands, relishing the warmth, letting it seep through him. He had sampled sub-zero conditions too many times in the last few days. It wasn’t much fun and it didn’t get any better, no matter how hard he tried to like it. Maybe when this was all over he might take a holiday somewhere with a lot of sun. Maybe.
He still needed to get out of his damp clothes though. He had a busy night ahead and needed to revive himself. He finished his coffee, stepped out onto the street and turned towards Ladywood.
Joe had a pizza box tucked under his arm when he leaned on the bell at Penny’s place. He was still soaked to the skin. Penny lived a short bus ride away from Joe in a bed sit area frequented by students. In his bedraggled state he had forgone the bus ride, just stopping off for a take-away pizza in the Five Ways complex.
Penny answered the door. She stared open mouthed when she saw Joe.
‘What happened to you?’ she asked.
‘I went for a swim.’
‘In February?’
‘Bad idea,’ Joe agreed. ‘Can I come in?’
Penny stepped aside to let Joe pass then closed the door and followed him down the hall into her small flat.
‘So where’ve you been?’ she asked. ‘I’ve called round your place three times. Left messages on your phone. What’s going on?’
‘I had to go away at short notice,’ Joe told her.
‘Was it because of Mike?’
‘Mike?’ Joe looked puzzled.
‘I thought you’d thrown a sulk.’
‘I wish it was that simple,’ laughed Joe. He looked around. ‘Is lover boy here?’
‘If you mean Mike, I’m expecting him. We’re going to see a film.’
Joe held up the pizza box.
‘I thought you might like to share a pizza?’
‘Fuck off Joe,’ Penny snapped.
‘Is that a definite no?’ Joe looked at Penny, surprised by her tone and reaction.
‘What do you expect? You disappear for days without a word then walk in like nothing’s happened.’
‘Do you mind if I eat?’ Joe peeled back the lid and tore off a large slice of pizza. ‘I don’t know what day it is any more, but I know haven’t eaten since yesterday.’ He pushed pizza into his mouth and ate hungrily while Penny looked on distastefully.
‘You look bloody awful,’ she told him.
‘I feel pretty crap,’ Joe nodded. ‘Sure you don’t want some pizza?’
Penny shook her head. ‘We’ll probably eat later.’
Joe saw Penny’s cat curled up in a basket on the floor. She was surrounded by five young kitt
ens.
‘She’s been busy,’ he said.
‘Not sure when that happened.’ Penny smiled for the first time.
Joe offers the cat a small piece of pizza and she eats it hungrily.
‘Don’t know if she should be eating that,’ said Penny. ‘She’s still feeding her babies.’
‘Sorry,’ Joe grimaced.
‘Do you want to get those wet things off?’ Penny asked. ‘You’re dripping all over the place.’
‘What time is your friend due?’
‘Are you shy?’
‘I might be,’ nodded Joe.
‘He’ll be at least an hour. I could throw your stuff in the tumble dryer.’
‘I’m drying off as we speak,’ Joe told her. ‘Anyway, I’d better go. Two’s company. Three’s a smack in the face.’
‘Maybe you should go home and get an early night,’ Penny suggested.
‘It’s a bit complicated,’ said Joe. ‘I can’t go back to my place at the moment.’
‘Is the landlord after you for the rent?’
‘Him, I could handle,’ smiled Joe.
‘Somebody broke the lock on your front door,’ said Penny. ‘I walked straight in last time I was there.’
‘Vince, the bastard,’ Joe groaned.
‘Who’s Vince? What’s going on?’ Penny looked concerned.
‘Better you don’t know,’ Joe told her.
‘Were you expecting to stay here?’ asked Penny.
‘Doesn’t sound like I’ve got the option.’ Joe looked questioningly at her.
‘It could get a little crowded,’ she said awkwardly.
‘Do I take it, it’s all over between us?’ asked Joe, moving towards the door.
‘I never said that,’ said Penny. ‘I just don’t like being forced into a corner. Look Joe,’ her tone softened, ’sort yourself out then give me a call. We’ll have a night in with a pizza, then and you can tell me what this is all about.’