by Conrad Jones
“Well I was hoping that you might have!” I smiled. “But I need to hurry.”
He turned and walked toward a dummy which was dressed in a full NBC suit including a gas mask. Behind it was a 6 feet by 8 feet piece of chipboard, fitted with brackets displaying a colourful selection of Samurai swords. He slid the dummy to one side and then moved the chipboard as if it was made from paper, to uncover a doorway and a staircase which led up to the attic rooms. “I’ll need to lock the front door, give me a minute,” Bren said ambling across the shop.
Just as he approached the doorway, a woman stepped into the shop. The smile on her face told me that she was ‘the missus’. She was dwarfed by the man she shared her life with, although her dress sense explained why they were together. Her hair was purple and backcombed into a mane which surrounded her face and finished halfway down her back. A diamond stud glinted from her nose and her eye makeup gave her the look of an Egyptian Queen. She wore an ancient black leather biker's jacket and faded blue jeans. The wrinkles around her eyes told me that she was pushing forty but she looked good for it.
“Hey, how’s the day been?” She reached up and flung her arms around his massive neck. “Has it been busy?”
“So so, let me shut the door,” he chuckled. “Boy, have I got a surprise for you!” He took the haversacks down from the doorway and tossed them to one side before pulling the door closed and bolting it at the top and bottom. She watched him with a confused look on her face and then sensing that someone else was there, her eyes settled on me. The smile disappeared from her face, replaced by a frown. “You will not believe who is here!” Bren said excitedly.
“Who?” She half smiled and walked towards me. “Sorry, do I know you or is my husband tripping again?” Bren walked behind her with a wide grin on his face. She was confused but there was also a vague recognition in her eyes. “I know your face but I can’t think where I know you from.”
I smiled uncomfortably and shifted my feet. I wanted to grab some stuff and be gone. “If I said his name is Jones and he killed some of those sickos like that farmer from Carrog, would you get it then?” Bren chuckled again.
“Oh my God!” she clicked on. Her face showed both surprise and muted horror. “Bren, what the hell are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” he looked offended. “He walked in here to buy some stuff and I recognised him straight away. He’s been all over the papers again today, haven’t you?” he said smiling at me. Bren couldn’t see that his missus wasn’t as pleased to see me as he was. “I’m going to show him my special stuff and help him out. He said he’ll come and stay with us afterwards and tell us all about it!”
“Stay with us? Are you mad?” She asked incredulously. “He’s a wanted criminal! If you don’t call the police then I will.” She realised what she had said and stepped back away from me a pace. Her eyes told me that she was scared.
“You don’t need to call the police, I’ll leave now.” I shrugged and smiled. I couldn’t blame her for her reaction. “Can I pay you for the stuff first?”
“Don’t listen to her,” Bren frowned. “We’re not calling the police. This bloke has been running for his life and I’m going to help him.”
“And when did we start sheltering criminals?”
“We haven’t. I just said he could crash with us after, that’s all.”
“After what exactly?” she said quietly looking at me through piercing green eyes. “Whatever he’s about to do, we’re having no part in this. He’s wanted by the police for murder. Bren, have you gone mad?”
“You said that you felt sorry for him,” Bren frowned. “I’m just helping him out that’s all.”
“I think it would be best if I just go,” I took thirty pounds out of my wallet and offered it to Bren. “This should cover the ponchos and the lantern; that’s all I need.”
“Are you in danger?” she asked. There was pity in her eyes as well as fear. “I’m Sade, by the way.” She offered her hand and I shook it briefly.
“I am always in danger, Sade but that isn’t your problem. I need that stuff and then I am gone.” I forced the notes into Bren’s hand and walked by them. “No one will know that I’ve been here and I’m sorry if being here has disturbed you, Sade.”
“They will know that you have been here,” Sade raised her voice. “Are you stupid? How many places around here do you think sell that garbage?”
“Garbage?” Bren snapped.
“It’s all shit, Bren,” she turned on him. “Who the fuck buys ex-military clothing except grown men who want to play soldiers up the mountains? Oh, apart from the odd wanted murderer of course.”
“It keeps us going.” Bren looked mortally wounded.
“My job keeps us going, Bren,” she corrected him. “This place barely breaks even. If he gets caught with that stuff on him anywhere within a fifty mile radius of here, the police will be knocking on that door and if they search upstairs and find your ‘special stuff’ then you’ll be going down for a long time, you retard!”
“That’s enough!” Bren growled. “Right I am not having this. Take your money back and follow me.” He passed me the ponchos and the lantern and stuck the notes into my coat pocket. He nodded and then marched off up the stairs turning almost sideways to fit his huge bulk up the narrow staircase. “What else do you need?”
I glanced at Sade before following him. She had flushed red with anger. The urge to walk out of the door was trumped by the need for some equipment. I followed the big man up the stairs. “I need a snare and some mace, that’s all.”
The staircase was unlit and my eyes couldn’t adjust to the darkness until Bren turned a key in the lock at the top and opened the door. A dull light permeated the stairwell and the smell of gun oil and cordite drifted to me. The attic room was long and the ceiling vaulted. The roof trusses were exposed and the black slate tiles were crooked in places. The floorboards were dark and dusty with age. At the far end of the attic was a target shaped like a soldier aiming a weapon. It was riddled with bullet holes as were the bricks behind it. That explained the smell of cordite. Bren must have had a pistol or a rifle which he fired up there. The attic was a firing range as well as his storeroom. He unlocked a storage cupboard and rummaged inside. His massive shape disappeared for a moment before he returned holding a canister of mace and a coiled wire trap. “Here, take them and if you ever need anything else, call me.” He handed me a business card with his contact details on. Take no notice of Sade she must have the painters in, the moody cow!”
I was about to thank him when a creaking floorboard alerted me to the fact that someone was right behind me. Blinding light flashed in my brain like a huge camera flash and then thudding pain shot through my head. My skull felt like it was about to implode and the world turned dark.
Chapter 11
I woke up in total darkness and my head throbbed in pain. I reached for the back of my skull where the epicentre of the pain was situated and felt my blood congealing around a two inch gash in the skin. Someone had coshed me from behind and I could only guess that it was Sade. Bren had locked the front door before we climbed the stairs, so it had to be her. I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest resting my head on my arms. I almost gave up at that point. The urge to lie down, curl up and wait for whoever to open the door was overwhelming. I almost resigned myself to a life behind bars until an image of Evie Jones came into my head. Her tenacity and fearlessness had save my life several times and I couldn’t let her down by giving up.
I shook my head and gave myself a mental slap. The pain was a dulling ache but my senses were returning quickly. As my eyes adjusted, shafts of light formed a rectangle behind me. It was a closed door with the light from the other side filtering through the frame, so I presumed that I’d been dragged into the storage cupboard that Bren had unlocked. I could hear raised voices on the other side of the door. Bren and Sade were bickering about what they should do. Sade repeatedly told him to call the police and if he didn’t, then
she was going to. Bren was adamant that he didn’t want the police in the shop and that he wanted to help me, not turn me into the law. I listened for a few minutes and their voices faded as they took the argument down the stairs into the shop. When I heard Sade mentioning a reward for information leading to my arrest, I knew that I had to move quickly. I wasn’t going to let them take me so that she could buy a new pair of jeans. Cringing in a cupboard feeling sorry for myself was not how I was going to go down.
I reached into my pocket and took out my cigarettes and lighter. I lit one of the menthols and inhaled deeply and then used the flame to find my bearings. The cupboard was made from partitioned wood and the ceiling was the underside of the slate roof. I looked around at the shelves and rifled through the contents. I grabbed a camouflage rucksack and looked inside it. There were a dozen or so large flares crammed into cellophane wrapping with Chinese writing on the label. I stuffed the ponchos, the mace and the snare into the bag and slipped my arms through the straps. The lantern was lying on the floor near the door, so I picked it up and switched it on. Scanning the cupboard quickly, I saw my means of escape leaning against the wall. An ornate sledgehammer stood in the corner. The handle and shaft were wrapped with plaited leather and the head was moulded from polished steel. It was a replica of Thor’s hammer or an imitation of a weapon from a fantasy war game. Whatever its origin, it would help me to escape.
I grabbed the lowest shelf and wedged my foot against the wall. Reaching up, I started to climb the shelves with the hammer in one hand. Standing on the second shelf, I could reach the slate roof tiles. There was no room to swing the hammer, so I stabbed at the tiles with the heavy steel head. Three strikes and the tiles splintered and tumbled into the cupboard. A fourth blow sent an avalanche of broken tiles skidding down the roof. I could hear them smashing on the road below. The clattering alerted Bren and his wife to my escape and I heard his footsteps thundering up the stairs. Sade’s high pitched voice followed him.
“Lock the door, you idiot!” She wailed. “The police are on their way.”
“What do you think I am doing, silly cow!” Bren retorted. I heard the door at the top of the stairs being slammed and locked. That suited me fine as I was heading the other way, onto the roof.
“They said we’re to get out of the building and lock all the doors, an armed unit, has been dispatched from Colwyn Bay.”
“I am not happy about this, Sade. You’re well out of order!”
“Shut up and think of the money,” she mumbled.
Her voice was muffled behind the doors now but it carried enough for me to hear her. I knew the local police station was a one man operation. Two at best. They would be ordered to secure the location and wait for armed backup. Colwyn Bay was a thirty minute drive away even for a police interceptor with its blue lights flashing. I reached up through the tiles and grabbed a roof truss, smashing the hole bigger with the hammer as I climbed. Slates rained down on me but the gap was soon big enough for me to fit through. I dropped the hammer with a crash and swung my legs up to the top shelf, my head and shoulders protruding through the hole in the roof. The night air was cold on my skin but it sharpened my senses. The feeling of freedom sent adrenalin racing through my bloodstream. I looked around and wondered if I had chosen the best escape route. The roof was pitched steeply and there was nothing to grip on to. The eaves had an overhang on them making climbing down a drainpipe impossible. At the back of the shop, the cliff face climbed thirty feet above to a tree line. There was no way down through the shop as man mountain Bren was down there waiting for the police. If I was going to escape, then I had to climb up.
I shimmied onto the tiles and pressed myself flat against the roof. My arms and legs were splayed apart, feet at ninety degrees to my body. I began to edge along the slate slowly. I couldn’t see Bren or Sade and at that point, they hadn’t seen me, but then I caught sight of a strobing blue light approaching from the bridge. The siren blared for a few seconds and then stopped as it turned the corner toward the shop. I remained still for a moment as the headlights illuminated the roof. As the vehicle veered right, the lights swept over me and pointed at the river leaving me in darkness again. With the veil of darkness over me, I edged along the roof again my breathing was shallow and my fingers ached as I tried to grip the smooth stone tiles. I could hear words exchanged but I couldn’t make them out. There was no more than five yards between me and the edge of the roof, when I slipped.
A slate tile dislodged beneath my right foot and some of its neighbours went with it. I slid towards the roof edge tearing skin from my fingertips and ripping my nails as I desperately tried to get a grip. My left foot found a hold in the gap which the tiles had left and my body weight forced me to spin 180 degrees, head first, in a circle. The tiles smashed on the concrete below and I was left hanging precariously over the eaves, my head hanging over and my legs and arms spread-eagled across the slate. The blood was rushing to my head as my feet were elevated by the pitch of the roof. Torchlight dazzled my eyes, blinding me as I was left gasping for breath and clinging on for dear life.
“He’s on the roof,” Sade shouted.
“She’s sharp. She doesn’t miss a trick does she?” a voice commented sarcastically on her observation. “Stay where you are Mr Jones, there’s nowhere to go from there.”
“Take that torchlight out of my eyes, please,” I asked. The light moved from my eyes enough for them to see me clearly and I could plainly see a uniformed officer standing next to Bren and Sade. The blue light was still flashing on his vehicle and I could hear the engine running.
“There’s an armed unit on the way, Mr Jones,” the officer said calmly. “It’s time to come in and put your side of the story. Nobody wants to hurt you, so stay put and I’ll call a fire engine to get you down.”
His radio crackled as he requested assistance from the fire brigade and backup from all available officers. My brain was working at warp speed trying to fathom how to get out of the mess that I was in. I should have known better than to walk into a shop when my picture had been on the front pages. I settled my breathing down and pushed myself back from the edge. Another shower of slate slipped and fell from the roof, splintering into a thousand shards when they hit the floor.
“Best you stay still for now,” the officer shouted anxiously. “The fire brigade is on the way. Best you stay put,” he repeated.
“Best for who? You?” I shouted. “When the fire brigade get here, tell them that Bren’s little collection of explosives and fireworks are about to go off.” I laughed ironically. “If you want to know what is ‘best’ then I think it’s ‘best’ if you fuck off as far away from here as you can before it blows the fucking roof off,” I shouted. “I set fire to his cache of illegal shit in the attack before I climbed up here. It seemed like a good idea at the time but now I’m not so sure! These tiles are getting a bit hot.”
The officer reached for his radio again and blurted out what I had said to whoever was listening. Startled voices replied over the airwaves. Bren and Sade looked at each other and began moving backwards. The officer noted their concern and followed suit.
“Are there fireworks up there, Bren?” He growled.
“A few but nothing illegal, George,” Bren muttered. They were obviously on first name terms, which was the norm in a small Welsh village.
“I’ve warned you about keeping shit up there,” the officer hissed. “I’ll ask you this once and once only and if you lie to me, Bren I’ll not be able to help you. Understand?”
“Yes.”
I righted myself slowly while they bickered. My story about the fire would only last for so long when they realised that there was no smoke billowing out of the roof. The pressure in my skull eased as I repositioned myself. As I edged inch by inch towards the back of the shop I could hear them arguing.
“Are there any explosives up there?”
“There are some fireworks and some gunpowder.”
“Gunpowder?”
&
nbsp; “Yes, for making ammunition,” Bren shrugged. “I’ve been pressing my own bullets for my .22.”
“You fucking idiot!” the officer snapped.
“I’ve got a license for it, George,” Bren whined. “I only use it for rabbits.”
“He’s moving!” Sade pointed out.
“He’s the least of your worries, Sade,” the officer said walking to his vehicle. “Get back to the bridge now!” He shouted. He opened the car door and climbed in, gunning the engine as he reversed it toward the bridge. I decided that Bren’s confession was a bonus ball for me. Reaching into the haversack, I took out a flare. I snapped the top and it ignited with an intense red flame. I heard Officer George shouting something as I tossed the flare into the hole in the tiles. When I looked inside the attic, the flare was fizzling away harmlessly on the floor but the smoke would help my predicament. I dropped two more ignited flares and the loft was filling up with coloured smoke. I noticed that one of them had set fire to a cardboard carton the size of a large suitcase. The Chinese writing on the box made me suspect that it could be full of fireworks or flares or better still, gunpowder. Orange flames licked up the side of the box and spurred me into making a move. I kept my back to the tiles which was difficult with the haversack on and shimmied sideways across the roof to the rear of the building like a huge crab. The gap between the rock and the roof was less than five feet. I looked back and the smoke was pouring from the building. It was black and acrid and it was beginning to choke me. A siren approached from the north and I knew that was where the fire station was situated. I contemplated climbing down but it was futile. The police officer and Bren would be more than enough to restrain me. If I jumped for the rock face, I would grip and climb or fall and break my neck. The rock was criss-crossed with tree roots from the woods above and I had a good chance of gripping something. My decision making process was interrupted when a huge bang deafened me.
It echoed across the village and along the valley. A section of roof simply exploded upwards in a shower of multi-coloured sparks. Slate shards whistled skyward through the air like a thousand sharp daggers and as the old adage says, ‘what goes up must come down’. I would be cut to ribbons or blown to bits if I stayed where I was. I had no choice. I jumped.