The Running Game (Reachers Book 1)

by L E Fitzpatrick

  “Yeah, well, I promised John he could hurt you if you screwed up. I'd say this is pretty high on your list of fuck ups.” Charlie rubbed his face. He was getting tired and the smell from the carrier bags of food reminded him he was starving.

  “Help John get rid of the corpse.”

  * * *

  Bruises were forming up Rachel's arms. They were the only marks Gary had been able to leave on her. The shower was turning from cold to freezing. Her stomach growled and she remembered the dinner they were supposed to be having. It seemed strange to feel hungry after killing a man.

  She was expecting a full house but there was only Charlie, sitting on her stripped bed reading through a file of papers. The body was gone. The blood had been replaced by a suspiciously white stain.

  “Where're John and Roxy?” Then she realised. They were getting rid of the body. “I should have helped them. It was my mess.”

  Charlie put his papers down. “John wouldn't have let you. It's sort of his speciality. Sit down and I'll get you something to eat.”

  “You don't have to treat me like an invalid. I killed a rapist, maybe I should feel more cut up about it, but I don't,” she said.

  “It could take a while for the shock to set in.”

  “Piss off, Charlie. I'm a goddamn doctor and believe me this is nowhere near the worst night of my life. We have real food and a whole night where I don't have to get ready for my shift. Stop worrying, everything is okay.”

  Charlie smiled. “Fine, then. Go get me some dinner, woman.”

  With the amount of food in the kitchen there was enough for third and fourth helpings. Rachel heaped their plates high. There was real meat in the rice, real vegetables in the stir fry. It was salty and greasy and heavenly. She nudged Charlie across the bed and sat beside him.

  “I can sit on the floor if you want more space,” he offered.

  She rolled her eyes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You're a sweetheart, but if you don't stop fussing I will have to make you stab yourself in the neck. Besides I like being near you. It reminds me of being back home, with my dad and my sister. Like we're family.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Did you know you could do that?”

  She thought about it. “I've made people drop weapons before at work. I've always thought of it as though I am just planting the idea in their heads. But this was different. He was trying to fight it. I could see him desperately trying to stop his arm from moving, but he couldn't. I was controlling him, Charlie, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.”

  “Not many people can do what you did.” He paused, hesitating on his next sentence. “We're going to break into Pinky's club and rob his safe. Roxy and John were going to go in. Do you want to go with them?”

  “I thought you were dead set against putting me in harm's way.”

  “Yeah, well I think you can handle it. Actually I think they could use you.” He handed her his file of papers all written in John's meticulous hand. “John's research and our bible for this job. Mostly it's just what John gathered when we were looking for you, details of the club and Pinky's office, but it's enough to pull off a simple robbery.”

  Rachel studied the notes on Pinky's office. John had detailed everything, from where Pinky's desk was, to where he was likely to conceal weapons and a safe, to what type of stationery the gangster used. “How'd he get all this?”

  “He just sat in Pinky's office,” Charlie said with a shrug. “I think he does it to keep his mind occupied. I deal with the client and all the time John is undressing the room with eyes. It's like a hobby, or a compulsion. We didn't even need this information at the time, he just did it because he could. Scary thing is he has all this memorised, he makes the notes for me.”

  Rachel wondered what the notes on her own flat were like. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Working on one, but I need to get Roxy and John past security.”

  Rachel flipped through the rest of the file. “I can get them in.”

  29

  Roxy was feeling guilty and he didn't like it. He helped John push the cop's body into the river and as it sank the same feeling stirred in his gut. It could easily have been Rachel they were dumping that night. The thought didn't settle with him.

  There wasn't an honest soul in his line of work. Thieves, murders, backstabbers; he ticked those boxes himself, without even thinking about his associates, but there was one thing he couldn't tolerate. He'd rather be dumped in a river than work with a rapist. Maybe it was growing up in a brothel, or just having strong women around him all his life, whatever the case, that was Roxy's line and he had nearly crossed it.

  He stared at the watery abyss until John flashed the car lights impatiently. Before he could pull away–which he'd done before–Roxy jumped in the passenger seat and waited for the dressing down he was due.

  It didn't come. John pulled onto the main road, his gaze concentrating but soft. The silent treatment. Roxy started to squirm. At least when they were arguing it was distracting; they could shout at each other until the veins in John's temples were showing. That was cathartic, that was a release. But it was obviously a luxury John didn't think he deserved.

  Roxy couldn't take it anymore. “Aren't you going to tell me how much I screwed up?”

  “You're not that much of an idiot, I figure you already know.”

  Roxy chewed on the dry skin around his thumb, readying himself for an uncharacteristic apology. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left her there.”

  “No. But you did and it was probably the best thing that could have happened.”

  Roxy frowned, sometimes John's wit got the better of him. “How'd you mean?”

  “The way I see it, Rachel had it covered by herself. If you were there floundering around the place, God knows how many bodies I'd be disposing of tonight.”

  He couldn't tell if John was joking.

  “I do not flounder!”

  “Of course you don't.”

  They came to traffic lights. A patrol car was ahead of them. Instinctively John made to go the other way.

  “'Least I'm not scared of cops.”

  “I'm not scared of cops,” John snapped.

  Roxy pursed his lips. “Prove it.”

  “What?”

  “Rachel's boyfriend stopped by while I was there. And because I do not flounder, I convinced him I was from Counter-terrorism and had a mission for him. He's watching Pinky Morris's warehouse as we speak.”

  John was silent–brooding over the challenge, Roxy assumed.

  “Let's check up on him and see which one of us flounders,” Roxy said.

  * * *

  Mark had been in the warehouse a good hour before he realised he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

  Perched against the small second storey window overlooking the entrance to the neighbouring building, he was pretty sure he was in the right place. He just didn't know who he was supposed to be watching for or why. This wasn't an unfamiliar feeling for him and he assumed he had been told and just forgotten.

  He stretched his legs and readjusted his position by the window. He didn't hear the creak behind him, not until it was too late.

  “Keep your wits about you, officer,” Agent Black said. “You never know who's about.”

  Mark leapt to his feet. Even in the darkness the red embarrassment on his face glowed brightly. “Sorry sir.”

  It was then he noticed the second man and for the briefest of moments he thought he was staring death in the face. He started to tremble.

  Agent Black handed him a greasy bag. “Hope you're hungry, son.”

  “Thank you sir,” Mark resisted the temptation to open it and start eating. His stomach growled impatiently at him.

  “Settle yourself in. You're watching for deliveries going to and from the building next door. Particularly boxes large enough to carry explosives. Mainly we're looking for foreigners. You know what they look like, don't you?”

  “Yes sir.
” Mark hoped he did. There were signs to look for–skin colour, odd clothing. The station had posters up about it in the locker room.

  “Don't move from this spot. If they find you don't mention you're a cop. You're not here to make arrests; you're here to get me the license plates of the vehicles and descriptions of the people in the cars. Do you understand?”

  “I do sir. You can count on me.”

  “I know I can, Mark, that's why I picked you. Now give me your phone.”

  Mark handed over his new mobile and watched as the agent punched his number into it.

  “If you run into difficulty, call this number and tell me you are unable to make it home for tea and cake. Say it.”

  “I am unable to make it home for tea and cake?” Mark tried.

  “Good. Use it only if you run into any problems. All being well Agent Smith over here will collect your notes in two days.”

  “Two days?” Mark straightened up his back. He could make it through two days. It was just sitting in a warehouse and watching. How hard could that be?

  “You have a problem with that, officer?”

  “No sir. Not at all. Sir, isn't it normal to have two officers on surveillance?”

  “Cut backs.”

  “It's just that my partner, he's a really good guy. He'd be able to give us a hand.”

  Agent Black shook his head, and Agent Smith seemed to be snarling.

  “If you're not up to the job we can find someone else.”

  “No sir, I can do it, I just…” Mark stopped talking. He was working for the real police now. These men made a difference, and for two days he would too. “I'm up to the job, sir. I won't let you down.”

  Agent Black patted him on the back. “Well, we'll leave you to it. Remember, eyes peeled. You could be saving countless lives Mark, remember that.”

  “I will sir.”

  The agents left. Mark watched for them out of the window but neither appeared. In the distance he heard a car start somewhere. It could have been them, or terrorists. Either way he would watch the window religiously. Every hour of the next two days he would wait in the same spot and witness everything. His eyes started to sting. He blinked his heavy lids closed. No sleeping–that wasn't allowed. Just short naps. No more than two minutes at a time.

  They waited outside, watching the warehouse in case Mark got ideas to leave. When they were sure he was staying put John started the car. Roxy knew from years of working with John how much the other man hated cops. In fact, he was pretty sure that disposing of one dead cop and setting up another was probably John's idea of fun. Roxy settled back in the passenger seat, pleased to see that John's earlier hostility was starting to wane.

  “See, I was as cool as anything,” Roxy teased. “And well done for not buckling under your fear, I know it was tough.” He considered putting his hand on John's shoulder, but decided the other man would probably break his hand if he made any sort of physical contact.

  John gave him the finger, but there was none of the usual malice behind it. “I can't believe he bought it.”

  Roxy could. He'd known the minute he'd met Mark that he was just malleable putty in Roxy's hands. “Dumb bastard. You know I am seriously questioning Rachel's taste in men.”

  John's hands tightened around the steering wheel. Rachel was still a sore topic for him. “I don't imagine she had much say in the matter,” he said. “Cop starts paying you attention, what you going to do? Turn him down and let him start wondering why?”

  Roxy could see how much Rachel's predicament bothered him. What he wasn't sure of was exactly why.

  “You like her, don't you?” Roxy said, fishing for a reaction.

  John's eyes narrowed, still unreadable and cryptic. “What makes you say that?”

  Roxy shrugged dramatically. “Oh, I don't know. Mostly because you haven't got a bad word to say about her, and I've known you long enough to know that you have a bad word to say about everybody.” He expected John to close up, maybe toss an insult his way and spend the rest of the trip in silence. But John surprised him.

  “She's got potential,” he replied suddenly.

  Roxy wasn't sure whether John had missed his insinuations or was just ignoring it. Either way he found himself feeling jealous of Rachel's new found place in the Smith Brothers' cold hearts, especially as he hovered on the sidelines; the black sheep of the Smith enterprise.

  “So what–you're banking on her replacing Sarah?” he said bitterly.

  John scowled. “No, I don't replace people. Sarah's gone–that's all there is to it. Anyway, if Rachel was going to replace anyone it would be Charlie. Besides, me and Charlie can't find Lilly alone, and she wants to help.”

  “Meaning I don't.” Roxy folded his arms, all of his playful humour gone.

  John shrugged, and the insinuation was enough to make Roxy's blood boil.

  “Hey, I would do anything for Lillypad. Don't you fucking say that I wouldn't.”

  John said nothing. Roxy was furious. He had been the only one John could turn to when they needed to get Charlie out of London. Roxy had been there for both brothers against his better judgement until John made it clear that he was no longer needed and no longer welcome. Roxy thought about bringing it all up and throwing it at John to see how the perfect Smith Brother liked being the one in the wrong for a change. But he didn't. He couldn't afford to get into a serious row this late in the game, but he couldn't let John off the hook either.

  “Here's an idea. You want Rachel on your team because you fancy a piece of her.” It was a childish comment, but he knew it would irritate John.

  “I actually have more important things on my mind,” John replied coolly. He was trying to act like it didn't bother him, but Roxy knew John, sometimes better than John knew himself–he'd clearly hit a nerve.

  “Okay, fine. You're seriously telling me you're not interested in a more intimate relationship with her?”

  “Yes.” Roxy couldn't tell if he was lying or not.

  “Great–then you won't mind if I have a shot then.” He grinned victoriously.

  “Don't you dare.” The threat hung heavy in each word.

  Roxy held up his hands defensively. “Hey, if you want first dibs then tell me to back off and I will.”

  John scoffed. “She has more sense.”

  “Did you see her ex?” Roxy smirked.

  John turned to him, his eyes focussed as though he was trying to calculate the conversation and all its possible outcomes before speaking. “Back off,” he finally said.

  And if Roxy wanted to keep on John's good side he might have listened.

  30

  “You have to think of it like a game,” Charlie told them. “And winning comes down to knowing the moves, knowing your opponent and luck. There's a board and there are pieces. Rachel is the king, the prize Pinky Morris wants and the one piece we have to protect or it's all over. Rachel will move with you, she'll step up only when she has to. She's by no means useless, but we have to use her in the right way, at the right time.

  “Now, John, well he's our queen–shut up Roxy–he's going to be your main cover, the one that's most dangerous, and he'll take out anyone who gets close to either of you.”

  “Please tell me I'm going to be the bishop,” Roxy interrupted excitedly.

  “Actually, you're the pawn. You get to the far side of the board without anyone noticing you and you strike down the opposition. While John covers you both, Rachel is going to escort you into Pinky Morris' office and you're going to crack the safe. Assuming you still know how.”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” Roxy replied.

  “I'll be waiting in the car. Now, Pinky will be waiting for us to drop Rachel off at the other side of town. If he's a man of his word, he'll be waiting with our money, but I imagine he plans to kill us once we've done the job so the safe should be full.

  “You guys get the money and get out. We'll head straight for the border. Cross the city line by the morning. Roxy can bail there and
we'll head west.”

  It was as simple as that. Charlie checked his watch. In twelve hours it would be all over, one way or another.

  They packed up Rachel's things, what there was of them, dumping them in the boot of their hired car. Charlie stayed in the flat. He read the file again. Pinky Morris's life was teetering on the balance of success and failure. If he got Rachel his world would change. He would be powerful again and there would be no stopping him. But, if they did the job right, the tiny blow they were going to strike against him could topple his entire empire. The job was simple, the repercussions were anything but.

  “Don't you know that thing backwards by now?” Roxy said.

  Charlie looked for the others but Roxy was alone.

  “Listen, can I speak to you before we do this?” As he stepped closer he seemed nervous and that made Charlie nervous.

  “What's up?”

  “I've said some things to you,” Roxy clutched at his hair. This was an awkward moment for them both. “Basically I just wanted to say…”

  “We're cool,” Charlie chipped in before things got weird and uncomfortable.

  “Good. Great. It's nice to be back on the team, even without…”

  “I know.”

  “I know I've not been around for you guys, but it doesn't mean I've forgotten about Lilly. I want to help you find her, I owe it to Sarah. My cut from this job, I don't need it Charlie, you take it all.”

  Charlie was surprised. “You don't have to.”

  “I do. I'm her godfather, right? And I honestly don't need the money, I'll only spend it on drink and sex and to tell you the truth I can still get a lot of that for free.” Roxy paused, steadying himself with a breath. “And I need to do it, to say I'm sorry for how I've been with you.”

  “Roxy you don't…”

  “No, I do. I thought she was just some nutcase you hooked up with, but John told me the truth. She was looking for him; she set you up.”

  Charlie's mouth became arid. “She came after me because I was weak. It's still my fault. I didn't vet her like I should have done. What am I talking about? I was married–I shouldn't have been sleeping with her in the first place.”