by Zoe Sharp
The flames had died back and mostly gone out as the petrol exhausted itself. The paint was blackened around the front end and had largely burned away from the glass where Daz had scored his direct hit on the windscreen.
The bystanders who’d gone to help were clustered around the driver but their movements seemed uncertain, as though they’d very little idea of what to do for him. He was going to need years of plastic surgery – if he survived. And we’d done that to him.
I tried to feel sorry, but it wasn’t something that came easy.
“So, what do we do now?” It was Daz who voiced the question over the radio and I realised that we hadn’t talked about what happened after we intercepted the van. All our efforts had been focused on getting Jamie back.
“We head for the next ferry,” Sean said, pulling out smoothly to overtake a farm tractor, getting back into a rhythm. “Any ideas, William?”
“We’ve missed the Belfast to Heysham boat, but there should be one coming in to Larne in less than an hour,” William said after a moment’s consideration. “I know the guys on board and they should be able to squeeze us onto it. That’ll take us across to Troon.”
“Good enough,” Sean said. “Anywhere away from here will do.”
Compared to our earlier pace, we rode almost sedately round the outskirts of Belfast and headed up the A2 for Larne. I was bringing up the rear of the group and all the way I had one eye on my mirrors, watching for signs of pursuit. None came.
By the time we dropped down into the harbour at Larne and saw the reassuring bulk of the ferry waiting there, I couldn’t help a small sigh of relief. As William had predicted, he was a known face to the ticketing staff at the gate. He negotiated our way on board without any real fuss and the bikes were slotted in to one side of the car deck
“Might be a rough crossing today,” one of the crew told us. “We’ll make sure they’re well strapped down for you.”
We clattered our way up the metal staircase to the passenger deck and William led the way towards the First Class lounge at the stern, charming his way in with a friendly greeting to the smartly-uniformed woman in charge.
“You’re lucky – we’re so quiet today I think you’ll have the place to yourselves, William,” she said. “I think everybody’s heard the weather forecast and decided to give it a miss.”
“Thanks, Jo,” William said gratefully, dumping his helmet onto the nearest table. “I think we could do with some peace.”
“Busy trip, huh?” she said brightly.
“Yeah,” he said, giving her a tired smile, “you could say that.”
I pulled out my mobile, only then noticing I’d missed three calls during the mad ride up from the south. When I checked, all of them were from Jacob. I tried calling him back but his answering machine cut in. I left him a brief message to say Jamie was safe and we were on our way back.
After the adrenaline rush of action that had pumped up our systems ever since we’d gone chasing away from Mondello Park, the climb down left all of us slow and lethargic. I was aware of a creeping headache starting up from the back of my neck and I rolled my shoulders, trying to relieve the pressure.
Only Sean still looked wired, keeping an eye on the door and reacting minutely every time it opened and the cabin crew bustled about their pre-sailing tasks. It wasn’t until the bow doors had shut and the vibrations through the deck picked up to signal we were moving off that he seemed to relax a fraction.
“Is that it?” Paxo demanded softly, glancing at him. “Is it over?”
Sean returned the look without smiling. “Oh no,” he said dryly. “It’s only just beginning. We’ve left a trail of bodies halfway up the damned country. Whether we were actually responsible for them or not, the fallout from this is going to be practically nuclear.”
Paxo just groaned and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against his seat.
I turned to find William watching me intently.
“What?” I said. “What have I done?”
“I don’t know how you can ask that,” William said quietly, “after what you did back there.” His eyes flicked to take in Sean as well. “Either of you.”
“We did what was necessary,” I said, a bit sharper than I’d intended but I was getting past caring. “What would you rather we’d done?” I went on, jerking my head in Jamie’s direction. “Left him?”
“I’m not talking about that,” William said, still in that infuriatingly even tone. “We watched you break a guy’s arm – his elbow – just like that.” He clicked his fingers. “Like it was nothing. What would you have done if they’d broken Gleet’s leg instead?”
“I didn’t plan it that way.” I let my breath out through my nose. “Besides, these were not nice people we were dealing with, William,” I said, trying to hold back my temper. “You give them an inch and they’ll take your bloody head off. You can’t play by the same rules as everyday life. They just don’t work.”
William looked wholly unconvinced. “I was right about you, Charlie,” he said, a little sadly. “You’re one scary girl.”
He stood and headed for the door but was barely halfway there when Sean’s voice stopped him.
“You can’t do that do her,” he said and I was surprised to hear the thread of underlying anger. “You can’t pick Charlie up when you need her and throw her down again when you’re done.” He met my eyes and I saw a challenge there that was not just intended for William, but maybe for me as well. “We’re who we are. What we are. And, like it or not, you needed someone like us to sort out the mess you’d got yourselves into. Don’t lay your guilt on us now it’s done.”
William didn’t immediately respond, just paused a moment, ducked his head in a way that was neither acceptance nor denial, then pushed the door open and walked out.
Daz stood, too, looking awkward. “Look, we know what you’ve done for us. We’re just not . . . used to this like you are,” he said, hunching his shoulders. “Shit, I’m still shaking to think about it. I’m going to wake up seeing it for months. You two just look like this is, well, normal for you. I’ll talk to him.” And with that, he went after William.
As Daz pushed open the door, he nearly collided with a woman who was just walking in. He stepped round her without looking and kept going, but as Sean and I recognised her we both came to our feet, tense.
“Isobel?” I said, incredulous. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What did you think I was going to do?” she threw back, brusque as she advanced, her eyes locked on her son. “As soon as you’d finished talking to Jacob I drove up to Troon and got straight on the first ferry. I saw you driving on board so I never got off. Did you honestly think I was going to sit by and do nothing while my boy was in danger?” And with that she enveloped Jamie in a big bear hug that he didn’t look entirely comfortable with.
Sean and I exchanged glances. If Isobel had found us so easily, what about Eamonn? The anxiety that had almost dissipated after our fight and flight was suddenly at full rev again.
“We’ll leave you to your reunion,” Sean murmured. Mother and son were too preoccupied to answer him. I glanced at Paxo as we went past but his head was still tilted back against the seat and he seemed to be asleep. We left him undisturbed.
As soon as we were outside the lounge, Sean said, “We need to do a quick sweep of this place, just in case we’ve any other surprise visitors. You take the starboard side, I’ll go port. OK?”
I nodded and moved away.
The ferry had cleared the coast now and was moving into open water. I looked out of one of the large side windows and saw the sea flecked with white horses. The motion had become more violent and I had to match my stride to the roll of the ship. People were already gathering up their sick bags and one or two looked as though they were just about ready to use them. I wondered how Jamie was faring.
I found nothing untoward as I checked the bar and restaurant areas, the shop and the amusement arcade. I spotted Daz a
nd William out on the deck, standing close by the rail with their backs to me. Daz was doing the talking, waving his hands as he spoke. I didn’t feel inclined to interrupt them.
I tried to be annoyed at William’s comments but what I really felt, I realised, was hurt. Hurt that he could look at me and see someone who would cold-bloodedly target the man’s arm purely in revenge for Gleet’s injury, when I hadn’t done so. I’d just reacted to circumstance. Hadn’t I?
And, with a jolt, I recognised that maybe that was why Sean had responded badly when I’d tackled him over his treatment of Eamonn that day at Jacob and Clare’s place. I’d accused him of going in too hard and he’d taken offence. Now I could begin to understand why. Not only that, but it dawned on me slowly, unpleasantly, that other people looked on me in just the same light.
Sean was already waiting for me outside the First Class lounge when I got back there. He cocked his head on one side.
“What is it?” he asked. “You look a bit fazed.”
“I suppose I am,” I said, rueful, pulling the door open for him to walk through first. “I was just—”
We both stopped dead.
The lounge seemed empty apart from the cabin crew member William had called Jo, who was sprawled across the floor in front of us, as though trying to crawl towards the doorway. Her tights were torn at the knees and her neat pillbox hat was askew. There was a trickle of blood rolling down the side of her face and she stared up at us with unfocused eyes that were wide with shock and fright.
Sean stepped round the pair of us as I crouched in front of her. “Jo! Are you all right? What happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” she said, her speech slurring a little. “I don’t—”
“Charlie,” Sean cut in. I caught the urgent tone and glanced up. He was over by the seating, kneeling over something – or someone – hidden from my view behind one of the tables.
“I’ll be back in a moment, Jo,” I told the woman with what I hoped was a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just lie still. We’ll get you some help.”
I hurried over to Sean. As I rounded the end table the first thing I saw was a pair of bike boots, leading up to leather-clad legs. The sight filled me with a sense of deep foreboding. If the state of an innocent bystander like Jo was anything to go by, I knew what I would see at the other end of this wasn’t going to be good.
I was right.
Paxo lay on his back on the polished wooden decking with his hands spread slightly out from his body, palms downwards like he was having to hold on to stay there. A pool of blood haloed his head from some unseen wound. There was a lot of it, spreading fast.
Oh shit.
“Paxo,” Sean was saying calmly, not letting alarm leak into his voice. His self-control always had been better than mine. “Martin, can you hear me?”
Paxo’s eyes opened, very slowly, but he didn’t move his head. His breathing was shallow and seemed to require conscious effort.
I started to turn. “I’ll get someone,” I said. “They must have a medic on this damned ship.”
Sean glanced up at me and shook his head, just once. We’re too late.
At that moment the door opened and Daz and William walked in, jerking to a stop as they spotted Jo just inside the doorway.
“Go find a medic,” I snapped at them. “Now!” Daz took one look and bolted. William squatted down to comfort Jo.
“Come on, Martin,” Sean said. “Don’t give up. Stay with me, man!” Paxo didn’t seem to hear him. He was gasping now, the gaps between inhalations growing longer, more laboured. I could see his skinny chest vibrating with the stress every breath was causing him. His limbs began to shake, one heel dancing.
I looked at Sean again, helpless, my vision blurring.
I heard movement and then William dropped to his knees alongside me.
“Aw Jesus,” he muttered, raw pain in his voice. “What happened?”
Paxo’s lips moved and Sean leaned closer.
“I guess,” Paxo whispered, “you better keep that lighter . . .”
And then he simply stopped breathing.
“Oh, no. No you don’t,” Sean growled, and I felt his anger rising like my own. He twisted to rip open the zip on Paxo’s leathers, exposing the front of his T-shirt, and brought his clenched fist down hard, twice, on Paxo’s sternum, trying to shock his heart back into action. “Come on, you little bastard, you don’t give up on me that easy!”
With a kind of controlled violence, he linked his hands and began cardiac massage on Paxo’s chest, the force of each compression making the smaller man’s body jerk and twitch. I took over while Sean pinched Paxo’s nose and tilted his head back in a desperate attempt to breathe life back into him.
We kept going like that right up until the ship’s doctor arrived at a run and told us, gently, that we were wasting our time. The back of the skull had been fractured like an eggshell, causing catastrophic damage that even a fully-equipped hospital would not have been able to deal with.
Paxo was dead.
***
Daz took it hardest. Despite their differences on this trip, he’d been Paxo’s oldest friend. He slumped down on one of the corner seats, put his head in his hands, and wept. William had gone back over to Jo, who had also been moved onto the seating and was having her head wound dressed.
I stood with Sean, feeling sick with despair and guilt. That we’d left Isobel with Jamie and so left both him and Paxo unprotected. But we’d thought the danger was over, hadn’t we?
The ferry’s crew quickly decided to herd the rest of us out of the lounge and close it off, leaving Paxo’s body undisturbed for the police when we docked in Troon.
We were ushered out into the corridor outside with our gear. Our names were taken and then we were left almost to our own devices. We were almost ignored in the general air of controlled panic. This was not, I surmised, an eventuality for which the crew had received much training.
William came out, giving Jo his arm to lean on, then handed her over to a couple of the crew who led her away. He watched them go, then came back over to us with his face grim.
“She says she walked back in on it,” he said quietly. “Pax was already down and this guy was just about to belt Isobel. Jo thought he was using a walking stick, but it sounds like one of those extending batons.”
“Did she describe the man?”
William shook his head. “The only thing she noticed about him was he had plaster across his face, like his nose was broken . . .”
The shrill warbling tone of a mobile phone started up and I realised we must still be close enough to land to pick up a signal.
Daz had sunk down onto the nearest row of seating as soon as he’d come out of the lounge, still looking dazed. Now we turned to see him slowly come out of his stupor long enough to dig automatically in his pocket, pulling out his phone and staring at it as though he didn’t know what the noise meant. It was William who went across and took it out of his hands, pressing the receive key. He listened in silence, then turned back, holding the phone out.
“Charlie,” he said, nonplussed. “It’s for you.”
Equally puzzled, I walked across and took the call.
“Hello?”
“Well now, I was right about you, wasn’t I, Charlie?” said a soft voice at the other end of the line, hardly audible over the background noise. “You have got some fire in your belly, haven’t you?”
“It’s all over, Eamonn,” I said, earning myself sharp glances from both Sean and William. “What do you hope to gain by this?”
“I want my diamonds.”
“Do you really. And who says they’re yours?”
Eamonn laughed, a sound entirely without mirth. “Well, they’re certainly not yours,” he said. “Let’s just say that Isobel here promised them to me in return for cancelling certain debts. And I always collect what’s owed to me.”
“We don’t have them,” I said.
“Oh, I think you’ll find you’r
e mistaken, Charlie,” Eamonn said easily. “Let’s hope so, or good old Jacob’s not going to need to bother with a divorce, is he now? Tell me, do they still bury family members in one grave these days?”
“We don’t have them,” I repeated through gritted teeth.
“Don’t lie to me, you little bitch,” Eamonn snapped, his lazy drawl snuffed out like a flame. “I’ll give you ten minutes to come to your senses, or these two start dying. And trust me, unlike your friend there, I won’t make it quick.”
The phone went dead in my hand. My face was bloodless as I turned to Sean.
“Eamonn wants the diamonds,” I said through lips suddenly stiff. “In ten minutes or he’s going to start killing them. But we don’t have the bloody diamonds!”
