The Family Man

by T. J. Lebbon

  ‘But now I know where he lives,’ she said. ‘The area, anyway. So I can check local directories. Filter out the Andys. Still a few hundred in the county. Check which are married, which have kids.’ She hummed softly, scrolled her phone while a coloured wheel span at the centre of the laptop screen. ‘Narrowed it down, but could be he’s married on paper anyway.’

  ‘What about the other one. Dom.’

  ‘Yeah, already working on that.’ She propped her tablet against the dashboard and the screen lit up. ‘He’s far easier, especially as we have the address. Dominic Morgan. Electrician. Wife is Emma, student liaison at the college. The kid’s called Daisy. Dog’s Jazz. Frank made a mess of that one.’

  They passed through the square. It was deserted. Lip knew they should park up soon; any vehicle prowling the streets at this time of night might draw attention they didn’t want. But with the windows down and Mary thinking aloud, he was almost enjoying the journey. Even though as yet they had no destination, it felt like they were going somewhere.

  ‘Dom runs his own electrical firm. Small office and yard, got the address. List of clients and recent jobs. Reviews of his work. Mentions in local press. He’s a school governor. No criminal record, not even points on his licence. Boring fucker.’

  Lip’s cheek twitched. It was as close as he ever came to a smile.

  They approached a bridge across the road, beyond which was a lay-by beside the river. He pulled in and killed the engine. Mary hardly seemed to notice that they’d stopped.

  ‘They play squash together,’ she said.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Debit card details. Hang on.’ She scrolled, tapped, swept one screen onto the next. ‘Here we go. Clumsy. Dom registers both names sometimes when he’s booking a squash court. He’s calling himself Andy Holson now.’

  ‘So you can get an address?’

  ‘Probably. Give me five minutes.’

  Lip tipped the seat back a little, eager for a brief rest. Two minutes later, his phone rang. Sonja.

  ‘Roman’s following them,’ she said. ‘He’s only just managed to get through on the phone. They’ve gone to Abergavenny in the dead guard’s van, dumped it, picked up a car, and they’re heading west.’

  ‘Why hasn’t he stopped them?’ Lip asked.

  ‘He says he was jumped at the college, Andy almost shot him. He doesn’t have a weapon.’

  ‘He’s got a car, hasn’t he?’

  ‘He hot-wired their old one, the red Focus. Pretty smashed up.’

  ‘Fucking amateur. I told you that, Sonja.’

  ‘Whatever. Lip, we’re close to getting them now. Where are you?’

  ‘Just outside town. Mary’s got a name, Andy Holson.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. So long as Roman doesn’t lose them, we can catch them up.’

  ‘I can get a three-way Skype going,’ Mary said. She’d been leaning in listening to the conversation, and Lip saw her eyes glitter with excitement. He was excited too. But he never gave anything away.

  ‘Yes,’ Lip said. ‘Whatever that is, do it.’

  Mary used her own phone, and soon she had it propped on the dashboard, Sonja’s face on the screen ghosted by dashboard light, Roman’s car interior unclear. They were both driving fast, Sonja with a cigarette hazing her image. Reception flickered in and out. Roman’s voice cut in with directions, shouted above the scream of air through the Focus’s smashed windscreen.

  The chase was on.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tumble

  ‘We’re being followed,’ Andy said.

  ‘How do you know?’ Dom asked.

  ‘Trust me on this.’ Andy was driving, maintaining a sensible speed. His sporty Seat Leon was a refreshing change from the bumpy van.

  ‘Jane Smith?’

  ‘I doubt it. She’ll let me know when she’s close so we can arrange a meet.’

  ‘They’re pretty far back,’ Daisy said. She and Emma had turned in their seats to look out the back window. ‘Looks like a motorbike.’

  ‘It’s a car with one light working,’ Andy said. ‘I spotted it just as we left town. Been behind us for the last few minutes.’

  ‘This is a main road,’ Dom said.

  ‘And there’s been three junctions and roundabouts,’ Andy said. ‘Plenty of places for them to turn off. I’ll try something.’ Two minutes later he took the first turning at the next roundabout, a dogleg that virtually turned back on themselves.

  ‘It was speeding up as you turned off,’ Emma said.

  Andy slowed the car to a crawl, looking in the rear-view mirror. The view of the road they’d left was obscured by a high bank.

  ‘What if it’s them?’ Dom asked.

  ‘Then we don’t let them catch up. And we know the area. I’ll head back through the lanes, take the Tumble, plenty of turnings, and this car will purr up there.’

  Dom and Andy had ridden the Tumble before on their bike rides, a five-kilometre climb averaging ten per cent gradient. It was a tough ride, and well known amongst cyclists. It was also barren, leading up and over one of the highest local mountains, moorland on either side, gravelly car parks, windswept hillsides and lakes and nowhere to go for help. All things considered, he knew it was the right choice.

  ‘There it is,’ Daisy said. ‘Dad, I think it’s your car! I think the windscreen’s smashed!’

  ‘The other guy at the college?’ Emma said.

  ‘Looks like it,’ Dom said. ‘Everyone strapped in?’ Emma and Daisy sat facing front again, and he caught his wife’s eye. She was scared but determined. Good, he thought. No point looking back now. We’ve got to look forward.

  They drove for a mile or so, then turned onto the road that led eventually to the mountain climb. They cleared a small built-up area and swerved around to the left, the first steep climb.

  ‘He’s getting closer!’ Daisy said.

  ‘Andy?’ Dom asked.

  Andy held the wheel with both hands, guiding them around a tight bend and then powering up the steepening slope. There was no street lighting here at all, and the headlamps lit some way ahead. To their right were trees and a slope, beyond which the wild landscape lay like a darkened blanket. To their left the hillside sloped steeply upwards, interrupted only by occasional pull-ins.

  ‘I know what I’m doing,’ he said.

  ‘Andy, we can get away from him, especially going uphill. Your car’s much faster than the Focus.’

  ‘Not much faster. A bit. Maybe not enough.’

  ‘Closer,’ Daisy said. ‘Much closer than he was before.’

  Dom looked back. His battered, smashed-up Focus was less than a hundred metres behind them, the one functioning headlamp obscuring most of the view inside. But he could imagine the man behind the wheel, focussed on the car that contained the person who’d killed his friend. He could almost feel the hatred radiating through the darkness.

  ‘If he gets too close he’ll start shooting,’ Dom said.

  ‘I got his gun.’

  ‘He might have another one!’ Daisy said.

  ‘Dom, start shooting.’

  ‘What? No. What if it’s not him? I’ve never shot a gun—’

  ‘Then leave this to me! I know what I’m doing. Shut the fuck up and let me concentrate.’

  The battered Focus was so close now that its single headlamp illuminated the Seat’s interior. Rather than dipping the mirror to shield his eyes Andy kept glancing into it, squinting to see ahead.

  ‘Dad, he’s going to—’

  The car jolted forward. Andy gripped the wheel and kept them straight, knocking down a gear and giving it gas.

  ‘Still not convinced it’s him?’ he asked.

  Dom felt the gun in his lap. It was warm from being nestled between his thighs.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Andy said. ‘Chance of you hitting anything important is remote. I’ve got this.’

  The car slowed and Andy straddled the white line. They crossed a cattle grid with a brief vibrat
ion, then the steep bank to their left fell back a little. They were up on open moorland now, the drop to their right less drastic and no longer obscured with trees. Looking past Andy, Dom could see the night-time landscape laid out for miles.

  ‘Coming again,’ Emma said.

  ‘Hold on tight,’ Andy said. He slammed on the brakes and veered to the left, dropping into second and gunning it instantly. The pursuing car had swerved to the right and come almost level with them, its nose edging past the back door. It shifted left and hit the car. Dom felt a sickening lurch as wheels skidded and gripped again, a jolt translated right up through the suspension. His stomach rolled. It reminded him of being on a roller coaster, something that Emma loved and he hated.

  The Focus’s engine screamed as the driver dropped a gear and surged forward. Andy was careful to follow the road, checking in his side mirror. They took a sharp bend to the left, and at the last moment Andy swung out to the right.

  Dom braced himself against the dashboard as he saw only darkness ahead, empty air that swallowed the car’s lights.

  The screech of metal on metal was horrific, a teeth-grinding tear. The air stank of straining clutch and burning rubber. Glass smashed.

  Andy swung sharply left again and pulled them back onto the road, and when Dom looked back he saw the Focus’s headlamp spinning wildly, waving at the sky like a frantic searchlight as it rolled and dropped from view.

  ‘Got him!’ Daisy screamed.

  ‘He’s gone,’ Emma said. She looked at Dom, face grim. He nodded. We might have just seen someone else die.

  ‘Shouldn’t we stop?’ Dom asked.

  Andy nodded down at the gun. ‘Coup de grâce?’

  ‘No!’ Dom shouted. ‘To see if he’s still alive, not to make sure he’s dead! What the hell do you think I am?’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Andy’s door window had smashed and he held his face, right hand over his eye.

  ‘You hurt?’ Dom asked. Andy only shrugged.

  ‘We don’t stop,’ Emma said. ‘Keep driving, Andy. If he was following, he’d have told the others he was on our tail. They might be right behind.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ Andy said.

  Dom stared ahead, frowning, trying to figure out exactly where they had got to on the climb. Was where the Focus had gone over a long drop? There were a few farm tracks leading down the hillside that way, he might have just flipped onto his roof and come to a stop. Or he might still be rolling.

  Andy drove fast, still pressing his right hand to his face. When he needed to change gear he did so quickly, on a relatively straight stretch of road. He was confident and relaxed, wheel vibrating beneath his hand as he powered them around corners.

  Two minutes from the top of the hill, as they took a corner in the middle of the road, there was a vehicle coming from the other direction. It skidded out of their way as Andy fought with the wheel, and a moment after they passed, the strobe of silver-blue lights filled the car.

  ‘You’re shitting me,’ Andy said. He was slowing down.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Dom asked. I have a dead man’s blood on my hands, he thought.

  ‘Yay, police!’ Daisy said. ‘Now we can tell them everything that’s happened.’

  Andy pursed his lips and shook his head, then slammed on the brakes. He had two hands on the wheel now. His right eye was closed, blood speckling the eyelid and skin around his eyebrow.

  The police car had spun around and given chase, and was so close behind them that it almost smashed into the car’s rear. It stopped a couple of feet short.

  ‘You all know I have to do this,’ Andy said. ‘Dom’s covered in blood, some of it not his. I’m smashed up. There are two bodies in your place of work, Emma. And maybe a dead guy back down the hill.’

  Dom nodded.

  ‘You all know.’

  ‘Yes,’ Emma said, barely a breath.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Daisy whispered. ‘Please don’t hurt them.’

  Andy dropped into reverse and floored it. The impact against the police car was slight, but the sound of wheels spinning on tarmac, then gravel, almost deafening. Andy pushed the advantage, tweaking the wheel to the right and edging the other car towards the drop-off.

  The police car’s engine roared, wheels burning on tarmac as it countered the movement.

  ‘Don’t look back!’ Dom said. He didn’t want his wife and daughter being seen, perhaps recognised. He knew nothing about modern policing. Was there a camera on the police car? Was their number plate even now being transmitted to control? Would their images be splashed all over police channels?

  ‘There you go,’ Andy said, easing off the accelerator, changing gear and surging forward.

  Dom looked back. The police car’s headlamps were pointing up at forty-five degrees, the car having rolled backwards from the road. It looked stuck, but not badly damaged.

  Dom eased back in his seat. His heart was hammering, he was nauseous, and every moment felt like one he wanted to wish away. But they were on a course now, and their momentum seemed to be growing. The further they went, the harder it would be to stop.

  ‘You’re a good driver,’ Daisy said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘That’s because he’s a getaway driver for bank robbers,’ Emma said.

  Dom watched Andy driving. Even with one eye bloodied and closed he looked calm and in control. But he was not in control. None of them were. If they were, they wouldn’t have been fleeing into the night.

  ‘Call her,’ Dom said. ‘We can’t keep driving, not after what we’ve just done. The law will have everyone out looking for us. Get off this road and call her now. She has to help us.’

  ‘I don’t have her real number,’ Andy said. He looked across at Dom, who gave him only a cool gaze. ‘Yeah, right, I’ll sort something. And maybe you can drive for a bit. I’ve got glass in my eye.’

  Down the other side of the mountain he took several turnings, passing through a housing estate and heading across the valley and up the next hillside. It was even more desolate and remote here, the landscape scattered with sad remnants of a long-dead coal mining industry.

  Andy parked behind a derelict brick building and sent a Twitter message to Jane Smith.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Superglue

  As Rose drove into Usk just past three o’clock in the morning, something about the small town didn’t feel right. It was off-kilter, unnaturally quiet, like a place where something violent had happened and then ceased. The town felt shocked. She was used to such scenes, such places. She had grown to trust her feelings.

  Parking in a side street, her phone chimed as a tweet came in. AndyMan had sent her a message, and it was not as obscure as usual. Need to talk.

  Rose lowered the window a crack and breathed in the warm night air. She caught the faint whiff of fresh bread. Somewhere in the village, the baker was awake.

  She dialled Andy’s number. It was picked up on the first ring.

  ‘Jane Smith?’

  Rose said nothing, listening to the sounds coming down the line. Andy’s voice was tense but not stressed. It sounded like he was in a moving vehicle. There were no whispered threats, no signs that he was being coerced.

  ‘You alone?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, it is you. Where are you?’

  ‘I ask the questions,’ Rose said. ‘That’s how this works. You tell me what I need to know, and nothing else. Got it?’

  ‘Got it,’ Andy said.

  ‘Good. There’s no such thing as a secure line. Now, are you alone?’

  ‘No. There’s a family with me.’

  A family, Rose thought.

  Alex runs into her bedroom with a badly glued Airfix model, making machine-gun sounds and knowing he can fly.

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Husband, wife, daughter.’

  ‘Are you all okay?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘None of you are dying?’

  ‘No. Few bumps and bruises. They’re chasi
ng us.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Two less than there were a few hours ago.’

  Rose let that sink in. Andy had sounded almost pleased, as if he was trying to impress a teacher. She wondered if the two he referred to were dead but decided it didn’t matter.

  ‘One of them’s the superglue fan?’ she asked.

  ‘One of those chasing, yeah.’

  ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘All you know of him.’ Rose didn’t care if this part was overheard by anyone listening in. The chances were slight. But if someone did hear, they’d know only that her knowledge was growing.

  ‘It’s the one I told you about before. The reason I left. His name’s Philip Beck, everyone calls him Lip. He hates Phil. He’s maybe early fifties, mean motherfucker. Really mean. There’s nothing else to him. No empathy, no emotion. As I told you before, I don’t know anything about his past. He’s driving a white Jeep at the moment, although that might change. And yeah, he’s the one who killed the people in the post office.’ Andy paused. ‘Why are you asking about him?’

  ‘Where are you now?’ she asked, ignoring his question.

  ‘I thought you said this wasn’t a secure line.’

  ‘If you want me to help, that’s a risk you have to take.’

  ‘We’re heading west, along the Heads of the Valleys road. We’re going … How can I send you a map? A location?’

  She knew that Andy was a keen cyclist. She knew a lot about him. ‘Do you have Strava on your phone?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Manually input a journey, with a stop-off point where you’re going.’ If he did this quickly enough, and she followed him and downloaded, she could have their destination in under a minute. ‘Do that, then in two minutes delete it.’

  ‘How will I know you’ll get it?’

  ‘Andy. Listen to me. I can help, but you have to trust me. Don’t question what I say, just do it. Understand?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. He sounded like a petulant kid.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Because Lip isn’t someone who just wandered into your life. I know more about him than you. He’s been doing this for decades, under different names, and he’ll do anything he can so that he can continue. You get it?’