“So you decided to murder me.”
“You were too busy sticking your snout in other people’s business. You failed to see the consequences of your actions. Where is the USB?”
“Perfectly safe. If I tell you, you will kill me.”
“We’ll have your friends in custody shortly. In the meantime, I am going to ask you again where it is.”
A couple of men dressed in black security services attire walked towards them, calling Sighrus over.
“The police want to speak to you. Something about an email and files that have just been received. I’ve been instructed to arrest you,” said one of the men.
Sighrus gawped at him. “There must be some kind of mistake.”
Brock took the opportunity to pull himself up, diving across to a nearby flowerbed and sprinting through a gate into a tiny lawned park. Gunshots pierced the night sky. In the distant, cloudy sky, a helicopter hovered. Car engines sounded across the streets and another gunshot thudded through the air.
Brock picked up the pace, racing in between slow-moving cars as he neared a lit-up Vauxhall Bridge. The Thames was at high tide, slapping against the banks, and the bridge was his only solution. The familiar feelings started; energy drained out of his body, pains jolted through his temple like an electric shock. His brain told his body to speed up, but his body ignored it, reducing him to a slow, stumbling pace.
His knees buckled at a distant memory. As a small boy, walking on this very bridge. An unusual trip to central London organised by the creatures at the hellhole. A member of the staff called Terry laughing at him, forcing him across the bridge. The memory disappeared; his heart pounded and his head started to spin.
Another blurry, distant memory, becoming clearer and clearer. Little Brock petrified, grabbing on to some cold dark railings on some unfamiliar bridge above a road. The bridge was damaged; he rested his chin, peering over at a smashed-up little white car. Inside, three people were lying still. Little Brock wiped across his forehead, moist blood appearing on his hand as he grabbed tighter to the cold railings.
He spun into reality again, grabbing in a deep breath and letting out an uncontrollable scream. The horror of the car hit him in the stomach like a boot to the solar plexus. Lying in the white car were his dead parents and only sister. Holding the railings tight, little Brock gazed at a dark figure in the distance. This dark figure was standing over another car, a dark-blue Ford Escort someway down the street, staring down at the smashed-up white car. The dark figure came into focus. It was a young Sighrus. He’d run them off the bridge.
Brock’s heart pounded like someone smashing a baseball bat against the bridge. Sighrus appeared at the other end of the bridge, heading towards him, a Glock held tightly in his right hand. A cold tear forced itself from Brock’s eye, running down his cheek as he waited. Every muscle in his body was calm and time stood still. He stood perfectly motionless as Sighrus appeared nearer and nearer. He pulled up the gun and aimed it towards Brock’s head.
“You have gone too far this time, Brock. You don’t know who you are messing with. You think you can defeat me, but I can command what I want. By the grace of God, I will rule this world and all you miserable layabouts in it.”
Brock stared right into his face, moving his right hand slightly. Sighrus jerked the gun, pointing it towards Brock’s arm. Brock swung a kick with all his strength. His leg smashing into Sighrus’s hand, causing the Glock to fly across the road onto the causeway opposite.
Sighrus’s mouth flew open, and Brock swung a punch so quick and so hard it knocked him to the ground. Cars stopped dead on the bridge, glancing across at the commotion. Brock stepped towards him again, throwing a kick as hard as he could into Sighrus’ stomach. Sighrus yelled and Brock threw another kick into his stomach. Blood spurted from Sighrus’s mouth.
Brock stepped into the cars, moving to the causeway on the other side of the road and snatching the black Glock. He hurried through cars in the direction of Sighrus, taking aim. But the causeway was empty. Sighrus had disappeared into thin air. Brock scanned into the cars, until he heard a loud splash coming from the Thames. Sighrus must have jumped into the Thames at high tide.
Brock flung himself over to the railings, peering over, aiming the Glock into the water. But Sighrus was nowhere to be seen.
He stepped from the bridge’s railings, shoving the Glock into his trousers. A battered red Nissan pulled up at his side, startling him, and he yanked the Glock out again. The passenger window slowly wound down and Sarah threw her head out.
“Get in,” she shouted.
Ty winked at him and he jumped towards the car.
“How did you find each other?” asked Brock, throwing himself onto the back seat.
“As soon as you walked into the installation, cars pulled up outside. Men were crawling all over the show so I moved out of there. I tried to grab your attention at our rendezvous, but you pulled this guy out of a yellow taxi and threw him across the pavement, then you drove off. I could see the cars were following you, so I followed them. On the bend, Sarah jumped in front of the car, she jumped in, and the rest is history,” said Ty.
“Thanks, Ty.”
“So, I guess we should all catch the ferry.”
Ty hit the gas and they sped off into the night.
About the Author
Alex Bloodfire was born and raised in a little village called Carlton in Lindrick in a northern town infamously known as Worksop in the United Kingdom. He moved to London over twenty years ago exploring it’s beautiful delights and sights taking up writing creating Brock Steele—Sphere; born out of an idea he had whilst residing in a Camden Town basement in North London.
Although Brock Steele is his second piece of works taking over five years to complete; it’s the first to be published. His second novel started over a decade ago will be out sometime in late 2021 involving a sleepwalking Detective, a sloppy Sergeant, and a serial killer on the rampage in a remote rural English town. Brock Steele two will also be out sometime in the future.
www.alexbloodfire.com
Social Media
@alexbloodfire
Brock Steele Sphere Page 25
