by Andy Crowson
Chapter 12: K
After forgetting the call and missing the post, the near disaster at the Pizza Hut had angered K. He'd made far too many mistakes and if he ever hoped to reach his goal then he was going to have to be a lot more careful. Just kidnapping the boys was not enough; he had other needs to meet. With this in mind he drove home while the Pizza was still hot, parked in the garage and ate the pizza in the car, thinking and cursing himself.
K decided he hadn't done any actual damage with the mistakes he'd made, in fact the biggest clues the police can get come though the predictability of the criminal, and he was at least sure they'd got the message in an unpredictable way. Although still angry with his mistakes K smiled inwardly, he longed for a 7-up to wash the pizza down, instead, he went inside and made coffee.
K pottered around for the afternoon. He did some shopping in a DIY store, bought some supplies from the supermarket and packed them up in the van. He used his computer to go out on the internet to check his mail and pay some bills but he didn't check the Swiss account yet, not until Friday.
K was not so hungry after the pizza, so he ate just a cheese omelet and some toast before changing into the full training kit: tracksuit, and official jacket of Fulham football club. He pulled the woolly cap on with the club emblem on the front. The jacket was rather special and had been bought outside London because he'd had the word Coach printed on the back in white letters. Wearing the kit he felt a little special. This wasn't the first time he'd dressed up and he thought maybe he'd have liked being an actor if he'd lived a different life.
It was about seven thirty when he pulled up outside Highfield School, where the boys having football practice were running slowly round the pitch. This was the final part of the usual training routine and K knew that they'd be finished in about five minutes. He spotted the tall thin boy with short dark hair amongst the group. It was still daylight and hanging around wasn't a good idea. Without stopping or parking he drove several streets away and waited in an empty space down a side street close to the boy's home. He would be able to see the boy cross at the junction at the end of the road without being spotted. From here K would have time to catch up with the boy before he reached his front door. K took the bottle of ether and soaked a cloth. He shoved the cloth in the glove compartment to lessen the smell in the van.
After about five minutes K saw the boy crossing. He started the van and as soon as the boy was out of sight he pulled out and at the end of the street turned left. The boy was just a hundred meters ahead on the pavement, K drew level with the boy who looked over and smiled, K stopped.
The boy came over to the van so K leaned across and opened the door, the boy stood in the open doorway.
"Hey Bryan," K said, "Your coach said I just missed you at training. Did you talk to your mum?"
"Not really," Bryan said. "She's been in a bad mood all week."
"Well I gotta talk to her tonight then, 'cause guess what?" he paused, "we've got a trial going on Saturday and I want you to come, what d'ya think?" K smiled excitedly.
"Really," Bryan asked, his eyes full of wonder.
"Yup," K smiled. "Listen jump up and tell me what she's like, I gotta park up somewhere." Bryan did as he was told and K drove two streets away and pulled into a large space in a quiet back street. The boy was talking about his mother.
"OK," K said leaning across the boy and opening the glove box, "I'll just grab my," he never finished the sentence. The boy was shocked, eyes wide open he started to struggle as K held the cloth over his mouth and nose, but it lasted only about thirty seconds and a little after that he was out cold. K checked the street again, it was still empty. He pulled the boy between the seats into the back, taped his wrists as he had with the others and put him in the box. With that done K turned his attention to the plastic bag on the passenger floor, it had the boy's football boots in it. K put on a pair of wooly Fulham branded gloves that were on the seat, picked up the bag, locked the van and headed back to Bryan's house. He walked once round the block and as he passed the boy's front garden K dropped the bag just inside the gateway next to a green wheelie bin. Crossing the street K checked that no one had seen him. Satisfied, he hurried back to the van.
On the way out of London K stopped at a phone box and called Bryan's mother. No forgetting this time.
