‘And the next bus driver. We’ve just got to survive the next stop.’
The bus lurched to the right. I turned and swung my way back to the front. From there I glanced at the wing mirror; the BMW had backed off.
‘Single lane coming up,’ Zora said. ‘The BMW wants in front.’
I looked through the windscreen. Another three hundred metres and the two lanes reduced to one. Beyond that was the bus shelter.
‘That the next stop?’ I asked.
‘Yes, and there’s a passenger waiting, going to have to stop.’
In the wing mirror I caught sight of the BMW as it accelerated forwards.
‘Zora!’
‘Seen it.’
Zora turned the wheel. The bus drifted over the short broken white lines separating the lanes of the carriageway. The BMW dropped back. I glanced at the left-hand wing mirror.
‘On your left.’
‘Seen it.’
Zora swayed the bus to and fro, in a serpentine motion over the dividing line. I watched the BMW in the mirrors as it swung from one side of the carriageway to the other, attempting to overtake.
Zora began to brake as the dual carriageway narrowed.
The man at the bus stop was fiddling with a mobile phone, but as we approached, he stood up in readiness to board.
Zora kept the speed up, only to brake at the last moment. The bus decelerated rapidly. The momentum forced me to grab hold of the overhead rail to stop me from careening into the windscreen.
I glanced at the mirror. The BMW had its indicator on, ready to pull out.
Zora opened the door.
‘Quickly,’ I shouted at the young man, who gawked at me as he jumped on.
‘Get your ass on to a seat!’
Zora closed the door.
The man hurried down the bus. Zora pressed down on the accelerator pedal. The engine bellowed. Zora turned the wheel. The man swayed with the movement of the bus on to a free seat.
I checked the wing mirror. The BMW braked hard, halfway along the side of the bus, flashing its lights.
I turned to check on the passengers. The man who’d just boarded raised his mobile phone. I swung my head around. No way friend, are you photographing me. I checked in the central mirror. Damn, he was photographing me. I hoped he’d only captured legs, bum and back, and no facial.
‘How far to the next stop?’
‘Just under a mile,’ Zora said. ‘We’ll make it.’
I hung on to the overhead rail and stood beside Zora, my attention flicking between the road ahead and the wing mirrors. We were on a busy thoroughfare; shops and takeaways lining both sides of the road. With every gap in the traffic the BMW pulled out. So far no opportunity for it to overtake had arisen, but that could change at any moment.
Zora slowed as she approached a zebra crossing. She timed it well; the pedestrians crossed and the bus was able to roll through without having to stop.
A junction with traffic lights came into view. If that light turned red and we had to stop, the BMW could easily overtake the bus by using the oncoming lane – a highly illegal and dangerous manoeuvre, but one I’d done myself.
Would the BMW’s driver risk trying to force the bus to come to a stop? In time, yes.
The light changed to red.
Zora began to brake and said; ‘We’ll get through it on green, I know the phasing.’
I stared at the red light, dubiously.
Zora checked her mirrors. ‘There are now two black BMWs.’
‘Oh shit,’ I said, taking a look. ‘The boss guy is in the second one, and he’s one nasty piece of work.’
And worse still with both cars now on our tail, any chance of outwitting the pursuit by changing buses had gone out the window.
‘You’ll make it,’ Zora said softly.
I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the green light, or our chances of reaching Crew Street Station.
‘How many stops does the Dean Street bus make before it reaches Queensway?’
‘Three.’
‘Ah,’ I breathed. One stop before Erjon could be sure if we’d changed buses, or whether the change was just a ruse. By the second stop he’d know for sure, and might make a move, or wait for the third stop.
‘Zora,’ I said, ‘any chance you can hold them off once we change buses?’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Thanks, maybe that will keep them guessing a while longer.’
The light changed to green as Zora had predicted; she pressed down on the accelerator pedal and the bus rolled through the traffic light.
The oncoming traffic kept the two BMWs at bay behind us. The rows of shops gave way to terrace housing and the bus stop came into view.
Liz, as good as her word, had redirected the Dean Street bus. It was parked in the bay, on our side of the road, but crucially it was facing in our direction.
‘Wouldn’t-you-know-it,’ Zora said, chuckling. ‘Dian is driving. Now she’s one real cool sister.’
I sprang back to where Ivonne was sitting. ‘That’s us now,’ I said. ‘But the problems aren’t over. Both BMWs are now behind us. Zora is going to try and make them believe we’re still on this bus. So, make sure everyone keeps their heads down.’
I kept my head lowered as I returned to the front of the bus. Zora braked gently.
I heard a whisper of cloth behind me. I turned and Ivonne gave me a high five.
‘Let’s do it!’ she said.
Zora brought the bus alongside the other one – door to door.
Some instinct or other made me glance up at the central mirror. The man, who’d boarded earlier, raised his phone. Just great. As if we didn’t have enough problems.
The hydraulics hissed and the door opened. One by one we crossed the gap into the Dean Street bus.
‘Hi,’ I said, ducking down behind the driver, ‘you must be Dian?’
‘Sure am. Welcome on board. Liz told me you need some help.’ She had a deep husky voice.
Dian engaged reverse and the bus started to roll backwards. Clear of the other bus, Dian selected drive and turned the wheel. The cabs of the two buses almost touched as Dian joined the southbound lane – the direction we had just come from.
I kept my head down as did the others. The bus straightened up and began to accelerate.
‘Dian,’ I said, ‘we’ve got an extra problem; there are now two black BMWs full of nasties on our tail.’
I could see her looking at the two BMWs as we rolled past.
‘They look like a real bundle of fun.’
‘I thought we might lose them swopping buses, but that was when there was only one. And we’re still nowhere near Crew Street station – the idea is to disappear there in the crowds.’
‘Liz gave me the lowdown.’
The bus accelerated. Dian kept her attention on the road and the mirrors. Approaching the lights we’d just crossed, she indicated and turned left.
‘There are three stops between here and Queensway,’ she said. ‘Are those shitheads going to try something?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘they’ve already tried getting in front of Zora. Only a matter of time before they catch up and storm the bus.’
‘That bad, huh?’
‘They don’t come worse.’
‘Phone Liz, tell her about it.’
I really couldn’t imagine how Liz was going to help us out of this predicament, but I had nothing to lose.
I dialled Liz’s number – engaged.
Damn. I came out from behind Dian and held on to the overhead grab rail. Dian was really motoring along; the bus pitching over the uneven surfaces. So far neither BMW had shown up.
I pressed redial. This time the phone rang. I rapidly explained to Liz that two cars full of nasties were now in pursuit.
She told me she had an idea, to sit tight and ride out the next stop. Then to my surprise she asked me if I was on Twitter. I was, although I didn’t use it much. I gave her my user name.
Puzz
led by the request, I continued to hang on to the grab rail and watched the wing mirrors, waiting for Liz to send me a tweet.
However, my attention was then absorbed by a fast approaching speck in the mirrors. Within seconds the speck resolved itself into a black BMW as it roared along the road doing at least seventy-miles-per-hour in a thirty zone, its speed intermittently dropping when a car got in its way. The driver used every opportunity to overtake, blatantly traversing solid white lines, and even using the oncoming lane at a zebra crossing to hurtle around the pedestrians.
‘He, he,’ Dian chuckled. ‘He’s in for a surprise.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re about to rejoin my route and, it’s full of one-way streets.’
The BMW was now only four cars behind us and was aggressively looking for the next opportunity to overtake.
‘Here we go,’ Dian said.
I looked out through the front window; we were fast approaching a big junction with the lights green.
Dian pulled the wheel hard round. The bus veered to the left, rolling heavily. Dian kept the wheel locked hard over, the engine bellowed and the pitch increased. I gripped the overhead rail tighter. The bus exited the curve. Dian wound the wheel to the right, and accelerated along the dedicated bus lane as we whizzed past the cars and the vans to our right.
‘First stop coming up,’ Dian said.
I checked the mirrors. The BMW had overshot the junction, but was now reversing. As I watched, it turned left and, ignoring all the signs, shot along the bus lane towards us.
‘They might just try boarding.’
‘Don’t you fret,’ Dian said, grinning. ‘The moment they come near the door, I’ll hit the button.’
At least the BMW would not have a chance to get in front of us; the non-bus lanes were choked with traffic.
The bus halted, rocking on its springs. Dian opened the door. Two passengers disembarked.
In the mirror I saw Erjon open the car door and start towards the bus. As a lone pedestrian reached the first step of the bus wanting to board, Dian pressed down on the button, closing the door.
Erjon sprinted to the door and slammed his hand on to the door release mechanism. Dian didn’t even bother turning her head and instead flicked on the indicator and engaged drive.
I ducked out of sight.
Ivonne had taken a seat in the aisle, sheltered from view by Maria in her hoody.
‘Keep your heads down,’ I ordered. ‘Don’t look round.’
Maria, Yana and Olga sat frozen in their seats, their heads facing the aisle. I could see the angst in their eyes and Yana’s lower lip trembled.
My phone beeped, telling me I had received a message. I ignored it for now.
As the bus rolled forward Erjon jumped up and down, trying to get a look at the passengers. I don’t know whether he recognised any of us, but with the three girls bunched together, all wearing hoodies, it might have been enough for him to reach a decision.
I came out from behind Dian and looked in the wing mirror. Erjon was sprinting back to the BMW; he yanked the door open, jumped in and slammed the door shut. The car jumped forward, only to disappear from view directly behind the bus.
‘The next stop?’ I asked.
‘There, beyond the junction.’
‘Not good.’
‘Just a mo,’ Dian said, and pressed lightly on the brake pedal. The bus slowed. As it came to the junction with the light on green, Dian brought the bus to a stop. She leaned forward and peered left around the corner.
I could see, in the middle distance, a bus making its way along the bus lane towards the junction.
‘Just as I thought,’ Dian said.
She held the bus on the stop line and waited. Just as the light changed to red, Dian rolled the bus forwards across the stop line, blocking the two lanes of traffic to our left which now had a green light.
There was an immediate concert of horns. Dian trod on the accelerator pedal, the bus jumped forward. We shot across the junction. I saw one car slip into the gap behind us, blocking the BMW from crossing. The bus to our left was also quick off the mark; it turned left and took up position right behind us.
‘Well would you look at that,’ Dian said, grinning.
She kept her foot on the accelerator pedal and we sped along the bus lane. We were now a convoy of two buses. And, the light behind us was still red when we reached the stop. Quite a number of passengers boarded.
As we rolled away from the stop, I saw the BMW hurtling along the bus lane and then it disappeared out of sight behind the bus to our rear.
My phone rang. I took the call; it was Liz asking after our progress. I told her what Dian had done which elicited a laugh. She told me the Queensway bus was all teed-up ready for our arrival. And that a bus due to start its tour from Crew Street Station would help us into the station when we arrived. Her voice turned jovial as she went on to explain that she’d seen another tweet about our exploits – it seemed we were on our way to prominence.
I looked at the first tweet. It contained a flattering picture of me taken from behind – thank God. The photo showed me standing legs apart, the trouser material tight around my ass, that, and the tight-fitting jacket highlighted my 32-26-33 figure. Under other circumstances the text of the tweet would also have been flattering.
Sexy looking cop orders me on to bus.
The sender had over three hundred followers, and the tweet had been retweeted over five hundred times, so far.
The second tweet read: 6 foot nun + 3 girls in hoodies escorted by sexy cop.
The tweeter had attached four photos to the tweet – thankfully none of them revealed my face. The number of retweets had gone ballistic with multiple tweets spinning off the retweets and the whole thing had become a story in its own right.
I looked into the bus’s central mirror, trying to determine who had a phone in their hand and whether it was a smartphone. Were we being watched?
I didn’t have time to complete my surveillance of the passengers as Dian said; ‘Next stop coming up!’
Dian veered to the right, out off the bus lane, drawing parallel to another bus parked at the kerb. She overtook the bus, braked hard and steered towards the kerb. We stopped, blocking not only the bus lane, but also the traffic in the non-bus lane.
The move created traffic chaos. However, it put a buffer of two buses, and a blocked lane of traffic between us and the BMW. The downside was: we were effectively blind, unable to see the BMW, and our view of the pavement was restricted to some twenty metres.
The doors sucked open and two passengers disembarked. An elderly man stood ready to board. I jumped down the steps and took the man by the elbow. ‘Come on, pops,’ I said, and almost lifted him into the bus. Keeping my head down – I was now on the alert for people with raised mobile phones – I set the old man on to the seat at the front for the disabled.
Dian engaged drive and the bus accelerated away.
I watched the wing mirrors closely. The bus which had been at the stop was right behind us and I just caught a glimpse of the BMW slotting in behind it.
‘It’ll soon get interesting,’ Dian said.
‘Why’s that?’
‘There’s a street coming up reserved for buses.’
‘Okay.’
‘At the end of that street you change to the Queensway bus.’
Dian put on the indicator and started to ease the bus to the right. The traffic gave way. I saw the bus behind us follow, and the BMW. Dian kept the indicator on, looking for the next gap. That’s when I caught sight of the second BMW, three cars behind the other one, also attempting to traverse the one-way street.
A gap opened up. Dian crossed the three lanes from left to right. I kept my attention focused on the mirrors; the bus behind followed us across as did the BMWs.
‘Turn coming up,’ Dian said.
I saw the street reserved for buses. Between us and the street was a pedestrian crossing with the light showing gr
een.
‘Think you can hold them at the light?’ I asked.
‘I’ll try.’
There was a throng of pedestrians waiting for the light to change and we were just five metres from the white line at the pedestrian crossing.
As we reached the stop line, I watched the light. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it’s gone red.’
Dian kept the bus rolling.
A quick look in the mirror revealed the other bus, stationary at the lights, and one BMW right beside it, poised and ready. The pedestrians were blocking any attempt by the BMW to jump the light.
I felt the bus turn and heard the engine being revved.
Still nervous about being photographed, I yanked the peak of my cap down, looked down at the floor and despite the roll of the bus as it accelerated through the curve, I grabbed the back of a seat and swung my way back to Ivonne.
I looked at the girls; the tension was taking its toll. I flashed them a smile.
‘We’ll have to move fast,’ I said, to Ivonne. ‘Get them up front now.’
Back beside Dian, I looked out through the windscreen. On the corner, at the end of the street, a bus was parked. Dian flashed her lights and the bus rolled forward blocking the mouth of the street.
Dian started to brake and waved at the other bus driver. ‘That’s my cousin Jake driving.’
I turned to Ivonne standing behind me. ‘Ready?’
‘Yes.’
‘Get the girls to go first,’ I said. I turned to Dian. ‘Thanks, Dian, you were marvellous.’
‘My pleasure, lady. Hope you make it.’
The bus braked to a halt. The hydraulics hissed and the door opened. ‘Go!’ I yelled, glancing in the mirror one last time. Oh shit, one of the BMs had just rounded the corner behind us.
‘Can you block the street a while?’
‘Do my best,’ Dian said, looking in the mirror.
The three girls were already off the bus and running. Ivonne leapt off the bottom step. Someone was holding up a mobile phone. I jumped, clearing the steps to land on the street, running.
I sprang into the next bus. ‘Let’s go, Jake,’ I said, grabbing the handrail and swinging up beside the driver.
‘Hot pursuit,’ Jake said, engaging drive.
I looked out of the window beside Jake. Dian was holding station, blocking the street, with one BMW behind her. However, the other was already on the pavement and accelerating towards us.
Bitter Sweet Page 11
