Smart Moves

by Adrian Magson

  I finished my coffee and took a shower in the bathroom furthest from where Lilly-Mae was sleeping. I washed off the assorted mud, grass stains and bits of undergrowth, and found some ointment to treat the scratches I’d picked up in the woods. If anyone came calling, at least I might look halfway decent instead of resembling someone who’d tangled with a bear. There wasn’t much I could do about Lilly-Mae, who’d picked up her own bunch of scratches, short of dragging her into the shower with me. So I let her sleep.

  By the time I tumbled into one of the other beds, I was past caring about middle-of-the-night callers and had just enough energy to drag the duvet around me before I fell into a very deep pit with no bottom.

  I woke several hours later to find a mug of tea by the side of the bed and Lilly-Mae watching me from an armchair nearby, her feet curled beneath her. She was wearing a blue T-shirt and jeans and had a cleaned and scrubbed look which meant she had showered away the debris of the previous night. Once again she looked very different, and I was struck by how each new appearance made me want to see if there were any more hidden away.

  She uncurled her legs and came over and sat on the bed. ‘Good morning,’ she said, and handed me my tea. ‘You sleep very quietly, you know that?’

  I grinned at her over my tea, which was surprisingly good. ‘Is that so? Well, you sleep very tidily. What time is it?’

  ‘Eleven. I took a walk earlier. No signs of anyone watching – although I guess they could be well hidden.’

  ‘If they were interested enough to be out there, I think they’d have shown themselves by now. How are you feeling?’

  She shrugged elegantly. ‘Tired, still. Like I’ve been trampled by something big and angry.’ She looked at me and prodded my leg through the duvet with the tip of one finger. ‘You know, you’re in good shape for a guy who doesn’t take exercise. You pretty much carried me and my rucksack up that hill.’

  ‘Good shape for a man my age, you mean?’ I tried to pitch it so that it came out light but it didn’t quite work. The age thing again. Then I remembered Gus must have been some years older than me.

  ‘Just good shape is what I meant,’ said Lilly-Mae reprovingly. ‘You shouldn’t put yourself down, Jake. Or is that the English art of understatement, and really you think you’re pretty darned good?’

  ‘Hardly that,’ I said, and touched her hand where it rested on my leg. ‘If I was in really good shape, I’d have been up for a jog and done twenty lengths of the pool by now.’

  Lilly-Mae looked interested. ‘Hey – swimming. Good idea. It’ll help get rid of some of those aches and pains.’ She stood up with a grin, her enthusiasm ignited. ‘I’ll fix a couple of pool-type drinks and see you in there.’

  ‘Wait. I’ve got to get back to England.’

  She turned at the door and looked back at me with a slightly sad expression. ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘I already checked for you. There are no available seats on flights out of here to London until late this afternoon. And the airport’s less than fifteen minutes away, max. You’ll find some shorts and stuff in a box by the pool.’

  When she had gone I levered myself out of bed and threw on a bathrobe, then walked down to the pool. It seemed reckless to be chancing our luck by hanging around this way, especially given the way Gus was feeling. But I couldn’t be bothered to argue. Anyway, right now I needed a swim.

  The inflatable chair was floating in the pool, with a glass of something interesting sitting in the moulded holder on one arm. I found a pair of new shorts and put them on, then slid into the water. It was pleasantly warm and I did a couple of brisk lengths, feeling the rigours of our run the previous night beginning to make themselves known again. I didn’t normally go in for swimming much, but today it seemed the right thing to do.

  As I pulled myself into the chair and settled into the moulded shape, the door from the kitchen creaked open and Lilly-Mae dived smoothly into the pool wearing a flesh-coloured swimsuit. Her body was arrow-straight and slim, and sliced into the water with the stylish and elegant poise she brought to everything.

  I took a sip of my drink and watched her shadow coming up the pool beneath the surface, then lost sight of her as she swam beneath the chair. She moved with a powerful stroke which spoke of good training or plenty of exercise.

  Then she burst to the surface in a shower of spray and flopped against the side of the chair.

  That’s when I realised the flesh-coloured swimsuit wasn’t a swimsuit after all.

  She smiled at me and wiped away droplets of water from her face, while I tried manfully not to look at her naked breasts, which were gently nudging my arm. In the end it didn’t seem to matter, so I gave up pretending while Lilly-Mae smiled some more and playfully kicked her feet behind her in the water. When I leaned over a bit, I could see she wasn’t wearing anything on her bottom half, either.

  ‘You ever skinny-dipped before?’ she asked, dragging a fingernail across my arm.

  ‘You know I have,’ I replied, and shifted in the chair as my position became uncomfortable. If Lilly-Mae noticed, she pretended not to and concentrated on tracing her fingernail across my chest, leaving a faint white line behind.

  ‘Right. You ever done… it… in a pool before?’

  ‘No,’ I gasped truthfully. ‘I tried snogging in the sea once. I was only six so I suppose that doesn’t count.’

  ‘You’re right. It doesn’t.’ Then she bobbed down for a second, before giving a powerful kick with her feet, and with a smooth movement hoisted herself upwards and out of the water. Before I could move she had flung one slim, muscular leg across me, and was straddling my lap, bouncing away happily and grinning like a kid in a playground. Then she leaned forward until the tips of her breasts were touching my chest.

  ‘You think maybe we could do it here, Jake? Maybe help take our minds off things for a while?’ She whispered it softly and settled herself into a more comfortable position by slowly and suggestively wriggling her bottom against my groin. When that got the required response, which made her eyes go wide, her grin became even broader. Then she was reaching down and somehow easing me out of my shorts. This was a tricky manoeuvre which nearly had us capsizing several times, but by skilful shifting of her balance, Lilly-Mae was soon holding up the shorts, which she threw out of my reach.

  ‘There,’ she said, and leaned against me until all I could feel was her warm, wet skin pressing me into the plastic chair. ‘Now, where were we?’

  We kissed each other for a while, with me enjoying the warm smell and taste of her and the feel of her body against mine. Then she lifted herself and took me in her hand, and with a quick movement, settled back against me. This time both our eyes went wide and I forgot all about everything except the feel of Lilly-Mae’s body against mine.

  I awoke several hours later in the comfort of Lilly-Mae’s bed. I had no clear memory of getting there, but the images of the pool and the floating chair, and her entrance to the water were vivid. I turned and watched her sleep, her hair gently rumpled on the pillow and a smile on her face.

  Outside a bird clattered past the window, and I eased out from beneath the bedclothes and padded over to peer through the vertical blinds and see what the day was promising.

  Across the untended grass at the back, a handful of what looked like partridge were pecking at the ground, their plumage blending in with the vegetation. Simple life for a bird, I thought. Eat, fly, eat, sleep and avoid men with guns. Not unlike my life at the time, come to think of it.

  Even as the thought took wing of its own, one of the birds looked up with a start and took flight in a clattering rush. The others followed suit until the grass was deserted.

  I wondered what had spooked them. A cat, maybe. Did they have wild cats in this area?

  Then a movement in the trees caught my eye and a man with a holster strapped to his hip stepped into view and stood looking at the house.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  I dived back to the bed and shook Lilly-Mae. She came
awake with a start, those lovely eyes blurred by sleep.

  ‘Jake,’ she murmured and yawned, stretching beneath the bedclothes like a large cat. ‘What’s up?’ She sat up, letting the bedclothes drop away. It left her naked and blinking seductively up at me. At any other time it would have been more than I could stand. Right then the timing was disastrous.

  ‘Come on, Lilly-Mae,’ I urged, trying not to look at her. ‘There’s no time for that. I think Gus must have told the police about this place; there’s a man with a gun in the trees out back, watching the house.’

  ‘What?’ She came awake with a start and leapt out of bed, grabbing for her clothes. I scrambled into trousers and a shirt, and gathered together what few things I had into my bag. One legacy of a life spent travelling was the habit of keeping everything close by me. Not that I was in the habit of leaving places on the run, but I had found out many years before that, in certain parts of the world, it paid not to get too comfortable.

  While Lilly-Mae finished packing I went across to the window. The man was still there, scanning the area around him but making no move to approach the house. He was dressed in a camouflage top, pants and boots, and looked as if he meant business. There was a solidity about him, a sureness of purpose which meant he was no idle weekend visitor out for a stroll in the trees to commune with nature. Not unless he hoped to shoot a sycamore, anyway.

  I went through to the kitchen and peered carefully round the door frame, from where I could see another expanse of grass and trees. If there was anyone there, they were being more cautious than the other man and staying well under cover. The view from a narrow window by the front door showed the same deserted scenery along the length of track leading away towards the road. The Toyota 4WD stood where we had left it the night before, seemingly untouched.

  Lilly-Mae appeared, eyes wide with apprehension, but businesslike and showing no signs of panic. Thank God for Nancy Drew, I thought, and scooped up the car keys.

  ‘Ready?’

  She nodded. ‘Uh-huh. Are we just going to drive out? They could be waiting at the bottom of the road.’

  ‘Who do you think “they” might be?’ I queried. It wasn’t the time for hair-splitting, but I was curious. I’d never been pursued by the police before – well, not outside NW9, anyway – but knowing how many different law enforcement agencies there were in the States, and with Gus’s business being what it was, it could have been anyone from the National Guard to the Department of Homeland Security. Whoever they were, I hoped none of them had itchy trigger fingers.

  Lilly-Mae was on the same wavelength. ‘Take your pick,’ she said briefly. ‘The guy out back’s got a blue shirt underneath his jacket. I’d say he’s local police… maybe state.’

  Okay. State police. That didn’t sound too bad.

  ‘Or he could be in a SWAT unit,’ she added.

  I tried to look casual, as if it didn’t really matter. I could handle this, I told myself. So why did I feel like we were about to emulate Bonnie and Clyde? I balanced the car keys and my bag in one hand, and with the other eased the front door open. The click of the catch going back seemed to carry across the open space, and I hoped none of the massed ranks of state-funded gunmen in the woods had good hearing.

  ‘When I say go,’ I whispered, ‘just walk to the car and get in. Don’t slam the door and don’t stop.’ Slamming doors, I seemed to recall from films and books, sounded a lot like gunshots to people with taught nerves and itchy trigger fingers.

  ‘Wait.’ Lilly-Mae put a hand on my arm. ‘Where are we going?’

  Good point. ‘To the airport. It’s the quickest way out of here. We’ll talk about it on the way.’

  ‘Okay. But be careful, huh? Please?’ She leaned close and kissed me, a gesture somehow more intimate and meaningful than anything we’d engaged in a few hours ago in the pool.

  I pushed her out before my resolve wavered and closed the door quietly behind me. As I stepped across to the car, I felt the back of my neck twitch and tried not to imagine myself lined up in the sights of someone’s rifle out there in the trees. It was a strange feeling.

  I climbed aboard and inserted the key in the ignition, then looked across at Lilly-Mae, who was staring at me with those big, beautiful eyes. If she was frightened, she was managing to hide it remarkably well. I winked for good measure – and partly to reassure myself – then kicked off the foot brake and started the car.

  The engine sounded too loud in all that silent countryside. I didn’t bother checking the treeline where I’d seen the uniform, but drove away from the house and down the track as fast as I dared. Behind me a figure stepped into view and stood watching us, holding what looked like a radio to his face.

  It was the man from out back.

  We hit forty before losing sight of the house, the wheels drumming beneath us on the uneven track and making my teeth rattle, and the steering-wheel vibrating in my hands. I hoped nobody would step out to prevent us leaving as there was no way I could stop in time. I’d once taken part in a cross-country rally behind the wheel of a souped-up Saab, which was the extent of my experience of high-speed driving. Apart from that I’d driven the occasional 4WD vehicle in remote areas, but none of them had prepared me for this. This was a matter of jail or freedom.

  As we reached the bisection with the blocked track to the other property, I caught a faint gleam of reflected light through the trees in the distance. It might have been a harmless vehicle on the main road or sunlight on a discarded bottle. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to take a chance. I stamped on the brake and skewed the car round ninety degrees and headed down the overgrown track towards the next house, just managing to squeeze past the pole blocking the way. Thirty yards past it, I stopped the car and ran back, and did my best to straighten the grass flattened by our wheels. It wouldn’t fool anyone for long, but at a first glance it might look as if we had continued on down the main track towards the road.

  I jumped back in the car and found Lilly-Mae grinning at me.

  ‘What?’ I asked, driving off.

  ‘You,’ she said. ‘You’re like, different. Like you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘Don’t be fooled,’ I said earnestly. ‘This could be a dead-end track. If it is we may have to go walkabout.’

  ‘Okay,’ she shrugged calmly. ‘You lead, Ranger Sam, and I’ll follow.’

  The house loomed into view. I caught a glimpse of a ramshackle wooden structure badly in need of a paint job or the wrecker’s ball. It didn’t look as if it had been lived in for years, with that sad and dilapidated air of a building without ownership or love.

  The track curved past the house, a narrow sea of long grass and wild flowers mixed with barbed weeds, and I hoped no-one had left anything large and unmoveable lying around which was now concealed by the vegetation. If they had, we were going to seriously re-arrange the front of the Toyota and end our day in the local pokey.

  The building flew by in a satisfying rumble of flattened grass beneath the car body, revealing a tumbledown shack at the rear and what had once been an ordered garden, with a trace of ancient borders, a rectangle of lawn and a large oak tree complete with a rotting rope swing. Beyond it lay a few scattered trees set on a steep slope dropping away into the distance… and an old, rotten gateway sagging on rusted hinges. I couldn’t see where the track went after that, only that it led us away from whoever was after us, which was good enough to be going on with.

  ‘Hold tight!’ I warned Lilly-Mae, and gripped the wheel.

  We hit the gate at forty and I heard a single crack as it gave way under the bonnet of the 4WD, strips of powdery wood and splinters flicking into the air behind us. A solitary, weather-scarred cross-member hung on the windscreen for a moment, then was gone with the next jolt.

  Then Lilly-Mae screamed and gripped my arm.

  The track seemed to drop off the edge of the world. One second we were on it, the next someone had pulled the rug away from beneath us.

  We were probably
airborne for only a few seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime. The wheel became lifeless in my hands and I had that feeling of gut-lurching weightlessness beneath me that you get preceding a downwards movement you haven’t been expecting. In the distance I caught a flash of open landscape with a scattering of trees and, on the horizon, the glint of sunlight off a line of moving vehicles. The main road.

  Then the car nosed down and crashed to terra firma in a teeth-rattling shower of dust and enough noise to wake the dead. The horizon disappeared as we bounced upwards again for a second, then crashed back down again and resumed our crazy journey. I looked across at Lilly-Mae, who was smiling in a sickly manner. I felt like I’d shaken my brain loose under the impact.

  Amazingly, we were still on the track and still moving. I stamped on the brakes, trying to control the car before we hit something large and immovable – like a tree. The suspension, as good as it was, was barely absorbing the ruts and bumps of the uneven terrain. It was like sitting atop a pneumatic drill. If this was what top-level motor-rallying was all about, they could keep it.

  The car fishtailed between two trees, the gnarled trunks startlingly clear and close through the windscreen, and Lilly-Mae threw her arms up to cover her face. Then we were through and I wrestled the wheel again, and stood on the brake pedal as the track suddenly snaked off to one side like one of Marcus’s video games, and we were heading straight for a vast, angled tree trunk which fate had evidently left there for us to hit.

  We stopped with inches to spare and I stalled the engine.

  ‘Shee-it!’ whispered Lilly-Mae. ‘What a buzz!’