Comatose

by Graham Saunders

  Chapter 6

  It had to happen, finally Tony's luck, his free ride was over. The inevitability had been there festering at the back of his mind, catching him at unguarded moments with a twist of panic. It was Jimmy Costard himself this time, waiting in person like a leering grim reaper. He stood across the road from the car showroom looking menacing despite the smile... maybe because of the smile. He was dressed in a suit; off the peg from the fit, with a camel overcoat across his shoulders. On his wrist was a massive gold watch which was almost matched in size by a heavy signet ring which Jimmy was twisting impatiently. As he saw Tony he gestured with a quick flick of his head for Tony to come over. Tony drew his head tortoise-fashion deep into the shell of his coat and muttered a mild expletive under his breath; he thought momentarily of making a dash for it down the alley but quickly saw the futility of that course of action. He crossed the road, dodging a noisy, rubble filled builder's truck which left concrete dust and acrid diesel fumes swirling into his eyes.

  "Hello Jimmy," he said with feigned brightness "I guess you'd like to talk about... this car thing."

  "That's on the money, old cock. You're obviously smarter than you look. Let's take a drive."

  They got into Jimmy's recently valeted Range Rover and cruised slowly away to a spot that offered more seclusion. Jimmy stopped the car and looked across at his nervous passenger. He tapped the side of his nose in a knowing gesture that Tony could make little sense of.

  "Next Wednesday." he said. Tony looked blank not sure what Jimmy meant.

  "What about, next Wednesday?"

  "That's when I'll need the motor, wake up Tony. I get the feeling your heart's not really in this."

  "Look Jimmy, I..."

  "Next Wednesday, so probably you'll need to find something suitable and do the business before Tuesday at the latest. You can bring the motor round to the warehouse for safe keeping; I've already got false plates sorted, so no need to worry about that." Jimmy said as if he were lifting a burdensome weight from Tony's shoulders.

  Tony sighed; he knew there was no point in trying to talk his way out of this. He had already taken Jimmy's coke and now it was payback time.

  "OK what sort of car do you need?"

  "Like I said, something fast but with a low profile. We don't want to be caught by the plods but we want to blend into the traffic as well, invisible like."

  "So maybe a fast Merc or Audi, that sort of thing, not a Porsche or anything too flash... what about seats?"

  "Oh yeah mate we'll 'ave seats in it." He laughed a slightly wheezy chortle, the accumulated result of years of cigarettes and blended scotch. "No, I know what you mean Tony. A four seater, there'll a driver and two maybe three passengers. We don't want anything too big, it needs to be nimble; four doors would be better than two. Oh yeah, and room for a large bag with Swag written on the side." Jimmy was enjoying himself and slapped Tony on the shoulders, only in fun but with enough force to make Tony wince. He would hate to be on the receiving end of a slap from Jimmy that wasn't intended to be playful.

  "Got any problems with that?" Jimmy had suddenly lost his smile. His question was posed with an edge in his voice that made it almost sound like a threat.

  "No Jimmy, I'll see what I can do."

  "Good lad, now, you don't mind walking back do you... the less we are seen together the better."

  Tony was glad to get out of the car despite the two mile walk back to the car yard where his ageing Fiesta was still parked. The walk back gave Tony the chance to clear his head. It was becoming more urgent that he got his hands on the cottage and made his escape before Jimmy dragged him down to a place from which there was no return.

  Tony was one of the used car salesmen from the yard attached to the Brinkman Motors showroom. His job was to quickly sell on the trade-ins from the customers of the main show room. A lot of the cars were disposed of through the trade, but the better ones were tidied up and sold directly from the yard. There was nothing in the used stock that could pass as a getaway car. The only thing that came close was a well-used Golf GTi but that was past its best and would probably break down if it was pushed too hard. It was going to a low end dealer on Monday anyway. Tony had no access to the showroom cars, but he had been thinking over the problem and had a possible solution. As well as selling cars, Brinkman's had a busy service department and there were always plenty of cars in for minor repairs and servicing. The nature of Brinkman's trade was that many of these were high performance vehicles. One of the mechanics was a mate, maybe to call him a mate was overstating the strength of their relationship, but they would occasionally go for a pint together after work. When business was slow, Tony would often drop in on Barnsey for a chat. He knew that the cars in for service were often kept overnight and the keys were kept in a safe. Hardly able to contain his laughter, Dave Barns had once told him after a couple of drinks that the car keys were kept in a locked safe, but the key to the safe was kept in a wall cupboard with the safe's combination number typed on the key tag. Barnsey thought it was hilarious what the management considered to be adequate security. Of course no one in their right mind would steal a car from the servicing department when next door was a showroom full of brand new stock. That is where Brinkman's main security systems were focused.

  Tony spent an anxious weekend. He used more coke than he should have and was feeling decidedly twitchy when Monday rolled round. Monday was always a slack day and he wandered across to have an innocent chat with Barnsey. Jimmy had not left him much time to lift something and he needed to see what might be on offer.

  "Hello mate, fancy a pint after work?" Tony said in his most casual manner.

  "I'd love one Tony but I'm under orders from Julie, we've got tickets for something, can't even remember what..."

  "Oh not to worry, just a thought. Got any interesting cars in at the moment?" He asked as if just making conversation.

  "Depends what you call interesting, haven't seen anything exotic for months but there's a tasty M3 in tomorrow for brakes and new tyres... the engine's been chipped, the owner only had new tyres fitted three month ago he must give it a bit of stick. He reckons it'll do 0 - 60 in four seconds"

  "Yea and the rest." Tony said "In his dreams maybe."

  "Well whatever the numbers it's well fast, I should enjoy test driving it tomorrow if I can find a bit of clear road somewhere. He won't be picking it up until Thursday... seems he's away on business so it'll be cluttering up the workshop for a while. Then there's the Cayenne, if you like that sort of thing; in for fluids and a wing mirror needs replacing. There's a wait on for parts for that one. Of course there's Samantha Vincent's Cayman... that needs a tune up." He pointed at the silver Porsche over in the far corner of the spacious and spotless workshop and gave Tony a knowing wink. Samantha Vincent was the daughter of one of Brinkman's biggest customers. She was a babe, with her eyes focussed on an acting career which had yet to eventuate. Still just eighteen with seriously rich parents she was well beyond the reach of a humble mechanic or a junior salesman, but you can't stop a lad dreaming.

  Tony wandered over to look at the sports car, pretending to have no interest in the other cars that Barnsey had mentioned. But it sounded like the M3 was the favourite as long as it came in when expected. If not it would have to be the Cayenne, fast enough but too bulky to be ideal for what Jimmy Costard had in mind.