by Angus McLean
‘Who were you meeting with?’ Archer demanded, giving him a kick for emphasis.
‘Fuck you…’
‘Hurry up!’ Sarah was outside the car now, shouting to him. ‘The cops’re coming!’
‘Who is he?’ Archer stood on the guy’s knee and ground it into the tarmac, making him squeal with pain. ‘Give me a name!’
‘You will never find him, Mr Policeman.’ The gangster had a sick grin on his face. ‘He is ghost.’
‘We need to go!’ Sarah hollered. The sirens were deadly close now and he could hear the police cars being pushed hard up the hill.
‘There’s no such thing,’ Archer growled, jabbing the Uzi at the guy’s face. ‘Name!’
The guy was remarkably calm, maybe figuring he was safe now the cops were coming. He gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘I don’t know it. You want my advice?’
‘Not really. I want a fuckin’ name.’
‘Just walk away and forget you ever saw him.’
‘Move your arse!’ Sarah bellowed.
‘It’s more than you’ll be doing, shit head.’ Archer stepped back, lowered the submachine gun’s muzzle, and put a single round through the guy’s kneecap.
The guy was screaming blue murder as Archer sprinted towards Sarah. He recognised her car now as a dark grey Skoda. He heard a low crump behind him, followed by the shatter of glass as the Porsche went up properly. He knew the Ferrari wouldn’t be far behind it.
Sarah was already rolling as he fell in the passenger’s door. They had just got to the first corner when a police car flew round it, bells and whistles going, the two cops inside apparently not even seeing them as they went past.
‘Keep going,’ Archer urged her as she checked the rear view mirror.
‘Well I’m not bloody stopping!’
There was a loud bang somewhere behind them, followed by another a second later.
‘There goes about a million bucks worth of cars,’ Archer observed.
Chapter 16
They continued down the hill, and were only a hundred metres from the main road when another police car approached. This one slowed and the two guys in it were eyeballing them, the passenger saying something into the radio.
The driver started to crank the wheel around to cut them off.
Before Archer had a chance to speak, Sarah gunned it, bolting forward as if to try and get past the police car. The cop accelerated to cut her off and she swerved to the right at the last second, cutting around behind him and shearing off the wing mirror on Archer’s side as she did so. There was a screech of metal and the car shuddered then they were past it and Sarah was slamming on the brakes.
She whacked it into reverse and smashed backwards into the driver’s door of the cop car, threw it into first again and laid rubber as she floored it.
Archer threw a surprised look at her as she changed up, wringing the engine out. She looked back at him with the hint of a smile.
‘We’re not here to fuck ducks, darlin’.’
They hit the main road and cut right, heading in towards the city. They could hear sirens approaching and Sarah threw the car into a tyre-squealing turn down a side street. Flashing lights crossed behind them, and up to the right they could see the flicker of flames from two very expensive burning wrecks.
Archer finally got his seatbelt on and she shot him an amused look. Despite the chaos all around them, or maybe because of it, she seemed to be enjoying herself.
‘Worried about my driving, love?’
‘Did you have to pick a Skoda? I don’t want my life to end in a friggin’ Skoda.’
‘Terribly sorry.’ She down changed violently and took a left at speed, the tyres protesting loudly. ‘There wasn’t too much choice today.’
‘I was just driving a Ferrari,’ he griped. ‘A goddamn Ferrari.’
‘And look what you did to that.’
He grinned. ‘Fair point.’
She slowed as they entered the city proper, and took an audible breath. He saw her eyes flick up to the rear view mirror at the same time as he saw blue flashing lights bouncing off the buildings around them.
‘Shit!’
Sarah gunned it, throwing a hard right and flooring it, the first left, then left again. The streets were narrow and lined tightly with buildings, the howl of the engine echoing in the narrow avenues. Archer could hear the roar of the cop car behind them, siren screaming and blue lights flashing. He didn’t know how big the Policija force was in Split, but he had no doubt they would be swamped with angry cops before too long. They were an armed force and had a tough reputation.
‘Ram them and get us the fuck out of here,’ he told Sarah, as she hurtled right into a side street.
She responded without question, slamming on the brakes and whacking it into reverse. The blue and white police car screeched round the corner and she smashed into the front of it, gassing it and riding up on onto the bonnet of the other car.
A second later, with the tearing of metal, the Skoda bounced back down and rocketed forward again. The police car was spewing steam from its caved-in front end as they disappeared down the side street.
‘In there!’
Sarah skidded into a car park behind a shop and they leaped out, running like hell down an alleyway that led to the next street over. He remembered to grab his day pack and deliberately left the Uzi behind, knowing that running round with a gun was an open invitation to get mowed by the cops.
They could hear sirens all around now, but with the sounds bouncing off all the buildings it was impossible to tell where they were coming from.
‘Up there!’ Archer sprinted across the road and threw himself at a concrete wall, getting a foothold half way up and grabbing the top with both hands. He hauled himself up, reaching down to grab Sarah’s hand and help her up. She was lighter than he’d expected but obviously not used to climbing walls, and no sooner was she up than she overbalanced and tumbled over the other side.
A string of expletives he’d usually associate with sailors spewed forth as she disentangled herself from the bicycle she’d landed on. He dropped down beside her, scanning the courtyard they found themselves in. It appeared to be the back of a business premises, with rubbish bins and boxes of crap strewn about.
Archer led her down a narrow access way along the side of the building and found himself at a cobbled pedestrian area. A bunch of eateries attracted foot traffic, and a pub a few doors down had punters milling around outside.
He ducked back into the shadows and dug the last water bottle out of his bag, using it and his sweat to wash as much of the dirt and crap off his face and hands as he could. He dried himself on his sleeve and re-slung the day pack.
‘Let’s go.’
He took her hand and led the way out to the cobbles, turning right and acting as if he knew what he was doing.
‘Where are we going?’ Sarah asked, gripping his hand. ‘You do have a plan, don’t you?’
Archer grinned as if she had just cracked a funny. ‘Hell no. I thought we’d just suck it and see.’
She cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘Could you not think of a less vulgar term for getting us out of the shit?’
He grinned again. ‘You know, I’ve always thought that when you’re running close to the edge, the normal rules go out the window. It’s a dog-eat-dog world and instinct takes over.’
‘So we’re all just animals then, is that what you’re saying?’
‘Basically, yeah.’ They reached a cobbled plaza with little cafés dotted around each side and people sitting out at tables, dining and laughing. ‘We put on our finery and act like we’re civilised, but when the pretence of civility is stripped away, we’re just cave men and women, gnawing on bones and beating each other with clubs.’
Sarah looked like she didn’t know whether he was serious or not. Her hand felt warm in his and he noticed she hadn’t made any attempt to let go. He didn’t mind.
A police car blasted past somewhere nearby, the blue lights flicker
ing across the plaza as it went by, and he felt Sarah’s grip tighten.
‘Just keep walking,’ he said calmly. ‘Nobody knows it’s us and we’re just another tourist couple out for a walk and a bite to eat, okay?’
‘Of course. Just don’t beat me with a club and we’ll all be happy.’
They reached the other side of the plaza and took a walkway through to another street. This was a narrow side street lined with parked cars. The tall buildings on either side had plenty of windows and little balconies, presumably apartments or hotels. They paused at the footpath and Archer was about to speak when he heard a call from behind them.
He turned and saw a pair of policemen approaching down the walkway, their eyes locked on the two civilians. One had his radio out but wasn’t using it just yet. The other was gesturing at them and saying something in what Archer presumed was Croatian.
‘Stay cool,’ Sarah murmured.
The cops were nearly with them now and Archer gave them a smile. The older guy was heavyset, maybe in his forties. The younger guy was more athletic looking and probably mid-twenties. Both looked confident.
‘Bonjour,’ he said. They had to blag their way out of this somehow, and it was always good to blame the French.
The leader of the two hesitated before waving his hand at them and saying something else that Archer didn’t understand.
‘Passport,’ Sarah said in her best French accent.
‘Ahh…’ Archer touched his pockets, giving it the proper Aussie haka before “remembering”. ‘Le ‘otel.’ He gestured vaguely down the street and shrugged apologetically.
The two cops glanced at each other and he could sense they didn’t believe him. The leader stepped forward as the second stepped away, starting to lift his radio. This was no good. If they got arrested they were fucked.
As the leader opened his mouth to speak again, Archer exploded into action. He hit the leader with a brutal short jab to the nose. Blood sprayed out and the guy grabbed at his face. As he stumbled back the younger guy reacted, going for his holstered sidearm.
Archer was on him before he cleared it, seizing the gun hand with his left and delivering a throat punch with his right. The young cop gasped and tried to grab his throat to relieve the sudden, crippling pain. Archer drove a knee into his crotch, yanked the sidearm away and swept the guy’s legs to dump him on the ground. He turned back to the leader, who was struggling to see through his tears, his face running red.
Sarah followed Archer’s lead, sweeping the guy’s right leg and dropping him to a knee. He tried to grab at her but missed, and she smashed her foot into his crotch. He gasped in agony and fell flat on his back, one hand at his shattered nose, the other cupping his squashed fruit.
Archer stripped him of his radio and tossed it aside, did the same to the younger guy and skittered both cops’ side arms across the cobbles. He glanced around, seeing a few people gathered at the plaza end of the walkway, watching. Somebody already had their phone out and was shouting into it.
‘Come on.’ He grabbed Sarah’s hand again and they bolted out to the street, going right. He yanked off his jacket as he ran and shoved it into the bag. Sarah did the same, cramming hers in on top and zipping it again. They crossed over, hearing sirens echoing about the city centre, and headed down another side street.
They kept running for a couple of minutes, not speaking, just focussed on getting the hell out of there while they could. Eventually Archer pulled up into an alleyway, dragging Sarah into the shadows and checking their tail. They were clear for now, but they could hear engines and sirens still going, seemingly a few blocks away. At least the cops hadn’t got a chopper up. That would’ve been problematic, to say the least.
Both of them were sweating and heaving with the exertion, and Archer guessed it was probably the hardest running Sarah had done for a while, maybe ever. He stayed up straight and sucked down air, feeling the lactic acid burn in his legs. Sarah was bent over and breathless. He took a minute to get himself under control before putting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her upright. Bent over like that she was never going to fill her lungs.
‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back within five minutes. If I’m not, you’re on your own. Right?’
She nodded, her chest heaving. Sweat was running freely down her face and neck and she felt like she’d been dragged through a bush. She watched him disappear back up the side street, hands in his pockets and walking with relaxed purpose.
She sucked in deep breaths, gradually getting herself under control, glad for the regular gym sessions since the split. At the time it had given her something to focus on other than her misery, and not only had she lost weight and toned up, but she’d also fallen into a short-term fling with one of the gym instructors. Six-two and buff as buff could be, with the stamina of a professional athlete. A few tats and far too much hair product, but nobody was perfect.
Not that it had done much for her aside from the initial self-esteem boost of shagging a bloke fifteen years younger than her – turned out the bastard was notorious for nailing “older” birds at the gym. Older. The little fucker.
He’d got his comeuppance shortly afterwards, however, when a fast-acting liquid laxative had somehow found its way into his water bottle. He’d shit his pants on the gym floor in front of a bunch of members, who had found it hilarious. Sarah had changed gyms by that time and never looked back, except to chuckle.
At least now she could say that the hours of training had literally saved her life – well, so far, at least. She wondered what Archer was up to. Here she was, almost ready to lose her lunch, and he seemed to have barely broken a sweat. The man was a friggin’ machine.
A new sound reached her ears and she edged to the mouth of the alleyway to check.
A motorbike was purring down the road, nice and easy. The rider was helmeted but she recognised him anyway. He eased to a stop at the kerb and gave her a thumbs up. The bike was a red and white Suzuki road machine of some sort. She hurried over, slinging the day pack onto her back. He handed her a spare helmet and she climbed aboard, snuggling up behind him and encircling her arms round his waist.
He gave the bike a rev and they moved off.
Chapter 17
Zadar was another coastal city, 160k north of Split.
The Suzuki ate up the miles on the E65 and they made it there in an hour and a half. As soon as they arrived they ditched the bike in a side street and made their way on foot into the central city area, moving fast and rubbing their exposed skin to get some feeling back after the cold ride. Sarah had been shielded behind Archer, but he was freezing.
A quick stop at a convenience store gave them large coffees, fresh bottles of water and snacks, a pair of spectacles and a new sweater for Archer, and a plain hoody and cap for Sarah.
They paused long enough to rehydrate and neck some food. The hot coffee in his belly instantly made Archer feel better, and the movement and calories got him focussed again.
Sensing he needed a break, Sarah took point and soon found a late night internet café. She left Archer outside on a park bench to watch her back while she went inside and booked a terminal for half an hour.
In less than ten minutes she was back and they quickly put distance between themselves and the café. Archer had researched a travel book he’d grabbed from the convenience store, and navigated their way towards a hostel. Turning up at a hotel without luggage would be too suss right now, but hostels catered to a different clientele.
‘I got through to the duty desk,’ Sarah said in low tones as they hustled along, ‘got some bell-end I’ve never heard of. Took a couple of goes to get the message through to him that we needed help.’
She was referring to the emergency contact she’d had to make. Archer hadn’t asked, but he guessed it was through an internet chat room or one of the untraceable chat services. There was always somebody at the other end, back in a nice warm office in HQ with the telly on and their feet up, praying for the end of their sh
ift, hoping they wouldn’t get such a call from an officer in the field.
‘ETA?’
‘Gotta wait for a call.’ They turned into a side street and could see the sign for the hostel further down. There was still a light on above the door. ‘Has to be within twenty-four hours, but I’m picking it’ll be sooner, given the circumstances.’
Archer nodded, hoping it would be soon enough. He didn’t fancy a stint in a Croatian jail.
Sarah took the lead again at the hostel, paying cash to a long-haired desk clerk who was either stoned or mentally retarded. Either way, he barely gave them a glance as he passed over a key, a set of linen and a pair of towels. They paid extra for some basic toiletries and let him return to the Twilight Zone.
The room was on the second floor overlooking a neighbouring rooftop. It was small and had a threadbare curtain and worn carpet tiles, but it seemed clean enough and the door locked behind them.
The bathroom was equally tiny and had a cracked basin.
‘Home, sweet home,’ Sarah murmured. She tossed her head towards the bathroom. ‘Get yourself cleaned up if you like. I’ll get the bed sorted.’ She saw him pause and grinned. ‘Don’t worry, tiger, I’ll trust you to be a gentleman.’
‘Mighty generous of you, cheers.’
The shower was old and tired but the water was hot enough to get a good lather going and he scrubbed hard, getting the dirt and sweat and unidentifiable crap off his skin. He washed his hair as well and felt a million times better by the time he stepped out.
As he scraped his skin on the rough towel, his tired mind drifted to his companion. She had impressed him with her cool head under stress, and he knew she had his back, which was always comforting to know.
He wondered again about her relationship with his former colleague, Moore. There was no doubt they’d been tight. She didn’t seem to be the type to stray from her marriage, but who really knew? It was obviously a different ball game now that she was separated, but he sensed a feeling of loss about her, the sort of deep sadness within that only time could heal.