Oil & Corruption

by Gareth Flood

  It was the last place where some space to move was available.

  Jonathan dived down to the floor and began to crawl. He held back yelps of pain as people occasionally stood on his hands or his calf muscles. Occasionally, the odd woman here and there in a dress screamed at the prospect of some pervert trying to get up her dress. An additional knee in the ribs resulted from just such a passing.

  It did not matter though; he was making progress.

  He could see a brighter shade of white as the entrance drew closer through the shortening forest of human legs.

  The Tatar emerged onto the balcony that looked onto the entrance courtyard.

  He carried a smoking pistol in each hand.

  He jumped up onto the wall so that he was standing on the edge of the wall, surveying the compressed crowd below.

  His dark eyes began scanning for anyone of similar height or hair colour to the targets. Both pistols were raised and alternatively began spitting single shots that surgically took down anyone looking similar to the targets.

  Wild screams erupted and it was like someone had electrified a bed of already writhing eels.

  Jonathan was close to the entrance but was getting kicked wildly as people panicked and tried to move anywhere from trapped desperation.

  He could hear the metronomic crack crack of pistol shots.

  Was the psycho firing randomly into the crowd? He was trying to flush them out!

  His left hand was at the entrance where the bottleneck of people trying to squeeze through the small entrance arch had built up.

  He hoped Julie was already out.

  The additional gunshots were making a bad situation worse. There was nothing for it now, he could no longer get through on hands and knees and if he stood up straight, he was liable to have his head blown clean off.

  He raised to a crouching position and thought back to the teenage years of unwillingly having to play rugby at an all boys school. He had always been tall for his height, which meant they had stuck him in the scrum. Now, unbelievably, the training would pay off. From a crouch position, he launched into the hips of the people in front of him, arms snaking out wide to encompass the two people in front of them. He gave a series of short, put powerful heaving motions, which helped to force the bunched people through the gap quicker. The adrenaline surged and his lunges became more powerful as he saw the light on the other side.

  The gap was immediately closed behind him, so hopefully the killer could still not see him. With one huge effort he pushed through and the two rows of people in front of him all spilled and fell out onto the causeway bricks on the outside of the exit.

  Jonathan fell on the two people he had been heaving against. They both looked thoroughly confused at what had just happened but also recognised they were outside.

  One of them was turning to speak to Jonathan but he did not hear as he was already getting up to start running.

  His only thought was to get away from the entrance as fast as possible.

  With the firing into the crowd, people would start running back up the paths again and this would start to clear the courtyard.

  Then the killer would not only block off the only way out but also be able to see who was running on the outside of the complex.

  He had to get to Julie before this happened.

  The adrenaline was still pumping as he sprinted for his life over the length of the causeway. Once he got halfway, his desperately searching eyes picked her up.

  She had made it.

  Her dark hair was billowing in the breeze and she had tears in her eyes as she looked towards him. His legs should have been tired by now but he seemed to complete the second half of the journey over the causeway quicker than the first.

  He weaved his way through other people running who had also made it out. Looking ahead to the car park, he could see that it was pandemonium – a traffic snarl of too many cars trying to get out at once. They would not be able to get the car out quickly even if they managed to get back to it uninjured.

  Julie’s eyes grew wide with alarm when she saw that he was not slowing down as he came belting towards her.

  ‘Follow me.’ he yelled as he grabbed her hand while running. Julie was jerked forward and stumbled slightly before breaking into a run to keep up with him. They were headed away from the main car park at a forty-five degree angle.

  ‘But the car is that way.’ Julie yelled back over the wind.

  ‘We’ll never get out in the car. I have a better idea – follow.’ Jonathan yelled over his shoulder.

  Julie looked ahead to see what they were running towards.

  A congregation of white Lego like structures lay ahead.

  The bus park.

  She saw his plan. The buses had their own very large exit and many of the coaches would not leave without their full tour party on board. Most of their tour parties were being shot up back in the citadel. The majority of the buses were moving to go, driven by the urgency of the passengers or drivers already on them that by this time knew about the shootings. They were still getting out of the exit as there were fewer numbers of buses, in contrast to the car park, which was log jammed at its entrance by too many cars cramming to get out at once.

  They could either jump on a bus readying to leave or worst case, commandeer one themselves.

  Once they were in the bus park, Jonathan made a beeline straight for a large white coach, which had an open side door in the middle of it and a cluster of elderly people around the door remonstrating with a young man in a company uniform of some sort.

  Jonathan reasoned it would be easier to slip past elderly passengers onto their bus.

  They slowed to a breathless walk as they came up behind the group and casually stood behind them while trying to edge toward the open door.

  It was apparent from the conversations they could hear, that the young man was the driver who had a civil war on his hands between two factions of the elderly American passengers.

  ‘We just need to get on the bus and go.’ a terrified old lady was saying to the driver, ‘we could hear gunshots – we need to get out of here.’

  ‘Not so fast honey, we’ve paid for a full day trip here – we’re not leaving without getting our tea.’ another said in a shrill voice.

  The driver held up his hands, trying to quell the voices, ‘I do think it is best if we all get on the bus and we go now.’ he said.

  ‘Na-uh,’ rejoined an elderly man with thick glasses and a baseball cap with USS Forrestal emblazoned on it, ‘I didn’t come all the way from Boise, Idaho, not to get my paid for tea. Nothing’s ruining my vacation.’

  Jonathan and Julie had edged their way all the way to the door of the bus, everyone was so preoccupied with getting their value for money that nobody even noticed them. They slipped inside and Jonathan motioned Julie towards the toilet door that was next to them in the stairwell. It was one of those capacious toilets that come standard in modern luxury coaches. It had “not in use” written on a piece of paper and taped to the door. Julie nodded and gave the thumbs up, it was the perfect hiding place to give them some time to recover and they did not want anyone to know they were on the bus until it was very far away from where it was now.

  As they were moving into the toilet cubicle, they could hear the bus driver lose patience and yell at the passengers outside, ‘ Fine! You will all get a half-day credit. Now get on the bus because it’s leaving in thirty seconds whether you are on it or not!’

  23

  Brittany

  Crammed inside the toilet with the door shut and locked behind them, there was barely space for Jonathan and Julie to stand at the same time. Their faces were very close to one another.

  The bus lurched forward as it started its journey. Jonathan fell backwards onto the closed toilet seat. Julie fell forward and placed her arms above his head to steady herself.

  ‘I cannot stand anymore. Sorry’ Julie said after a few seconds and proceed to turn to sit on his lap with her legs going a
cross his at a right angle. Neither knew where to put their hands. Jonathan splayed his out wide against the walls to steady himself against the rocking of the bus. Julie did the same. Their fingertips were touching.

  The swaying of the bus kept bringing their faces close together. Both their hearts were still pounding and running hot with adrenaline after their close escape. Their eyes locked together and neither of them could avoid it nor bear it any longer. Their lips locked passionately and the hands came off the walls to be all over each other. The intimate meeting of their mouths and hands was an incredible release for both of them.

  They kept kissing and caressing for what seemed an age.

  The passage of time seemed to have slowed and neither knew for how long they had been intertwined. Eventually, their mouths separated and they just held each other tightly, seeking comfort in the madness.

  After an hour or so the bus slowed to a halt.

  They opened the toilet door and stepped out. Limbs were stiff and sore from being in the same position for too long, but both of them were sad to be leaving little plastic cocoon of togetherness and apparent safety.

  As they closed the toilet door behind them in time to watch the hydraulics of the main outside door engage and daylight to creep in, there was an old lady looking at them from the top of the stairs where the seats were.

  Jonathan pulled Julie closer to him as they faced the stern looking geriatric together.

  ‘Gosh.’ Jonathan said, ‘we appear to have gotten on to the wrong bus, honey! I apologise.’ he tilted his head in acknowledgment and then turned and bolted outside with Julie in tow. Once they slowed to a casual walk, they could see the bus had stopped in nice little coastal resort town. A promenade snaked away from them to separate where the ocean met the land. The main road of the town was behind the promenade and there were clustered typical small shops that sold food and assorted tat to tourists. Julie spied a patisserie and led Jonathan there by hand. With fresh bread and cheese in bags under their arms, they walked up the promenade till they found a wooden bench to sit on where they could eat and figure out what to do next.

  ‘How do you think that crazy man found us?’ Julie asked, as she broke her bread into little pieces and matched them up with similar sized pieces of cheese.

  ‘I was just thinking about that.’ Jonathan replied, his mouth half full.

  He was really hungry and taking an approach of alternatively ripping off hunks of bread and cheese and shovelling them into his mouth. He hoped it was not offending Julie’s French sensibilities.

  ‘The only thing I can think of is that they put a tracker on your car.’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ Julie’s eyes widened.

  ‘Yeah, we know these guys have some serious resources. They probably put one on the car of every employee who works for the organisation in Paris. Just in case I contacted one of them. It worked too.’

  ‘Wow.’ was all Julie could say. She chewed slowly and thoughtfully as she looked out over the sparkling azure water.

  ‘It also confirms that they are being helped by someone, or a few people high up in the organisation. At least high up enough to get an employee list of everyone working in Paris.’ Jonathan said.

  ‘So leaving my little car behind was the best thing then.’ Julie stated.

  ‘Indeed. That was a close escape back there.’ Jonathan said.

  Julie placed her food down on the bench beside her and turned to face him fully.

  ‘So?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling. ‘What is our next move?’

  ‘Well,’ Jonathan said, rapidly trying to chew and swallow at the same time so he could speak clearly, ‘I have to get to Madrid to see two strange people who may be able to help me. You are going to get on a bus and go somewhere quiet in France you have never been before. I know we’ve been through this before but that was pretty damn close back there - I don’t want to put you in any more danger.’

  ‘I do not think so.’ Julie asserted, eyes flaring, ‘you are not the boss of me. I decide where I go and what I do. I want to help.’

  ‘But-’

  ‘Yet I am determined in this.’ continued Julie, ‘we are together in this. They will probably pick me up by myself and take me God knows where. I have the same chance running with you so would rather take that option. Plus I can be a big help, like asking questions in hotels and on phones. I mean, come on Jonathan, I do not mean to be rude, but you are clearly English Rosbif from one thousand yards! Even in Spain I will get better service than you.’ she burst out laughing and tossed her hair back as she did so. Jonathan could not help but smile. He knew it was true.

  ‘I know that makes sense,’ he said, still, persevering with the logical arguments of getting her out of harms way, ‘but I still think-’

  ‘No! None of your English “Buts” and enough of your Anglo-Saxon logic. I am coming with you.’

  Jonathan turned to face her fully as well.

  ‘Julie, listen, they are mainly looking for me. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’

  ‘Aww, how sweet. Is that really why you want me to leave?’

  Jonathan could feel himself blushing. He felt like a gawky fifteen year old on his first date.

  ‘Yes.’ he said. ‘You knew all along, you just wanted to make me say it, didn’t you?’

  ‘Oui.’ she said, smiling, before leaning in and giving him a long, lingering kiss. ‘And you can say what you like,’ she whispered when their lips parted, ‘I’m still coming with you.’

  ‘Okay, okay. We still stick together.’ he said.

  ‘A partnership.’ she said smiling.

  ‘Yup, partners in survival and finding the truth. But I think it would help if you changed your appearance somewhat. And also, here-’ he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a wad of folded banknotes. ‘Here is half of the cash I have. If we see anyone like that guy from earlier, or anyone else acting suspiciously toward us, you are to run as fast as you can. Take a train to a part of France you’ve never been to before and stay out of contact till this is all over and in the media. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ she agreed as he handed over the money. ‘If it makes you happy.’

  ‘Good. It does make me happy. You promise now.’

  Julie held up her hand. ‘I, Julie Allanguillarme, do promise to run away if we see another assassin.’

  Jonathan was glad she had said her surname. He had trouble remembering it as it was one of those French surnames an Englishman should not even attempt to pronounce. Best he could do if he had to introduce her would be to drop half the word and just roll his tongue around emitting weird ‘arrroarrr’ noises.

  They both smiled and he took her hand out of the sky in his. She turned and shuffled a bit closer to him on the bench. They both looked out over the glittering sea together while holding hands.

  After a time, Julie placed her head on his shoulder. For a small moment in time, Jonathan felt at peace.

  He savoured the moment.

  ‘Do you think we should go to the media?’ Julie asked softly.

  Disturbed from his reverie, he thought about it for a while.

  ‘Uuh, no. For a couple of reasons. One, I completely distrust them – always twisting stories just to get a headline. Worthless swine’s the lot of them. Secondly, we have absolutely zero proof of anything right now. Even if we were protected and hidden, it is our word and some circumstantial evidence against one of the most powerful and cash rich organisations in the world. They would have million shark lawyers dispatched within the hour.’

  ‘Mmm, okay.’ Julie shrugged her shoulders lightly, accepting the explanation.

  ‘The more pressing question,’ Jonathan continued, ‘is how are we going to get to Madrid?’

  He straightened his back slightly to look up and down the promenade in search of inspiration or ideas. Further down the promenade on their left, he could see a bunch of teenagers huddled in a circle in front of a car parked right up to the wall of the seafront.
r />   ‘C’mon,’ Jonathan said, patting Julie’s hand and starting to lift her up. ‘I have an idea.’

  They walked over to the car to see that it was a beaten up, old Renault five. As they got closer, Jonathan could smell through the air that the kids were smoking weed.

  ‘That’s an interesting flower.’ he said.

  Julie giggled.

  They turned to the group of kids, who were all dressed in tracksuits, caps and hoods. Jonathan mentally noted how the future of France was looking as bright as the future of Britain with the current generation coming through. They were all clearly high, sitting on the sand, doing sweet nothing in the middle of the afternoon.

  ‘Probably benefit day today.’ he muttered.

  The car could not be worth more than a couple of hundred Euros. He walked to the edge of the seafront wall and in broken, high school French, asked who owned the car. He was hoping this would be done quickly and Julie would not have to interact with these degenerates. One particularly stoned and snickering kid bedecked in white tracksuit from head to toe half raised his hand.

  Jonathan waved four hundred Euros back at him and pointed from the car to himself. The kid’s eyes widened as if trying to stay in proportion to his massively dilated pupils. It was a lot of money in this town. Jonathan said ‘key’, the kid groggily stood up and handed it over. He handed over the money and the kid half sat, half fell back onto the sand while waving the wad of cash in the air as though he had just clinched the greatest financial deal of the decade.

  Donald Trump, eat your heart out. Jonathan thought as he waved Julie over and they jumped in the car. He turned the key and it spluttered and jerked twice before finally coughing into life.

  ‘How’s this thing even legal?’ Jonathan asked as he reversed it out onto the road.

  ‘This car is a French icon.’ exclaimed Julie.

  ‘It certainly is.’ Laughed Jonathan, as he directed the car onto the main road back out of town ‘And it only gets better as we now head to Spain.’