Run Rabbit Run

by Kate Johnson

  Before I started getting all soppy, I cleared my throat. ‘Right, well, look. Could do with a little favour.’

  ‘Such as?’

  I explained my theory about the six people who might be gunning for me. Luke was silent.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Soph … they’re all in jail. I suppose they could have paid someone to do their dirty work, but it’s all a bit soap opera, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, check anyway,’ I said, irritated. With him, and with myself, and with Jack for planting the tiny seed of doubt in my head about Luke’s intentions.

  He’s not working for Harrington. He loves me.

  ‘How’s young Jack?’

  ‘Young Jack is less than ten years younger than you, Old Man,’ I replied.

  ‘He’s an infant,’ Luke said dismissively.

  ‘He’s not much younger than me.’

  ‘Well, that’s different. You’re a competent adult.’

  I stared, stunned, at the swing set in the garden.

  ‘Soph?’

  ‘I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that,’ I said.

  ‘Well. I mean, you’re not really, I’m just trying to persuade myself of it before I go completely carrot top here. Suppose being with an infant bounty hunter is better than being alone,’ he added, still sounding like he was trying to persuade himself of it.

  ‘Ah,’ I replied.

  ‘What now?’

  I bit my lip. Luke didn’t even like Jack, so he ought to be happy with the news we weren’t working together any more.

  ‘Is this to do with that incident at Heathrow?’

  ‘You know about that?’ Of course he did. If Rachel knew about it, Luke had probably been called up by everyone he’d ever met.

  ‘Young Jack threatened a cabby with a gun, knocked him out and robbed him. At least, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt on who robbed him. The camera was on the wrong side of the cab to pick up enough detail about who it was, and the only witness was unconscious.’

  ‘It was Jack,’ I said, and the whole story came flooding out of me. ‘He got paranoid after we ran into Harrington, especially after I’d been to see you. He thought I’d told 5 where we were going, or you’d passed it on. He turned on me with a gun, Luke, and I panicked.’

  ‘What did you do?’ he asked after the tiniest pause.

  ‘Hit him over the head with my handbag,’ I said. ‘And put him in the cab. And shot out the camera. So he wouldn’t be found.’

  I heard the very faint rasp of Luke running his hand hard over his unshaven jaw.

  ‘He was just a bit overwrought,’ I said. ‘I think I scared him by coming to see you. He thought I’d run off to tattle to Harrington.’

  Luke took in a deep breath and let it out as a heavy sigh. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  ‘No. Has he … no, he can’t have been found or you’d know about it, right? Maria would have got hold of me and called down some goddess of wrath on my head.’

  ‘No. When the cabby woke up he was alone. But someone had fleeced him of all his takings.’

  I kept silent. It’s just money, I told myself. People have insurance for this sort of thing. It’s not like I hurt anyone.

  Except Jack, but that was for his own good.

  ‘So you’re on your own.’

  ‘Yes.’ I lifted my chin. ‘It’s better this way. You know, two targets are harder to find than one. Like that bit in Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid where they let one horse loose as a decoy.’

  ‘That bit where the trackers aren’t fooled and go after the horse they’re both riding?’

  I winced. ‘Bad analogy. Look, I’m fine. I can manage by myself. Like you said, I’m a competent adult.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Luke said.

  ‘And I can do this,’ I said firmly. Maybe a bit too firmly. ‘I’m fine. I can manage.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Luke said doubtfully.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘It’s just, you sound a bit …’

  ‘Luke, do I have to remind you about MI5 and the murder charge and people trying to kill me? Again? Someone tried to drown Jack a week ago and someone blew up your car two days ago and Harrington found us yesterday –’ God, had it really only been yesterday? ‘So yeah, whatever you were going to say, I am a “bit”.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Sorry,’ Luke said warily. ‘Listen, I’ve got something that might cheer you up.’

  ‘I’m not having phone sex with you.’

  He laughed. ‘Not that. Hang on a sec.’

  I hesitated, ready to end the call if he was going to put Harrington on, but the voice that came next was not that of a hard-boiled MI5 agent. It was softer, female and older, a hint of a northern accent, vast acres of childhood memories flooding through the receiver just as she spoke my name.

  Tears sprang to my eyes.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Sophie, love.’ She sounded incredibly relieved. ‘How are you? Are you all right?’

  I sniffed, nails digging into my palm. ‘I’m fine,’ I managed. ‘I’m good. How are you?’

  ‘Oh,’ I suppose it was a rather big question, ‘relieved. Luke said he’d been in contact with you but I … I just wanted to talk to you.’

  I gripped the phone harder and closed my eyes, the last traces of mascara trickling down my cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call,’ I whispered, ‘only –’

  ‘It’s all right, love. I understand. Luke’s told us everything.’

  Oh, God.

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘About you working for the government and all. Sophie, why didn’t you tell us?’

  I opened my eyes and rolled them at the sky. ‘Tell me in words of one syllable exactly what you think the Official Secrets Act is, Mum.’

  She laughed. ‘I suppose we might be in some trouble now, for knowing.’

  ‘Hell, probably everyone knows now. It’s on Twitter.’ Though not, according to Rachel, my name – yet.

  ‘Oh, well if it’s on Twitter,’ my mum said, and we both laughed weakly. I hesitated. How, exactly, does one ask one’s mother if she knows one has been accused of murder, without panicking her into thinking one actually did it?

  I suppose I’d better start by not talking about myself as if I’m the freaking Queen.

  ‘Listen, Mum. You didn’t – I mean, they’ve been saying – look, I didn’t do it –’

  ‘I know that,’ my mother scoffed gently. ‘We all know it.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Your dad and Charlie, Angel and all your friends. I think I’ve spoken to them more these last two weeks than I ever have done before.’

  I smiled at that. Probably my brother had been enjoying the chance to talk to all my friends, especially Angel, who he still fancies even though she’s married and pregnant.

  ‘Anyway,’ Mum said, ‘I’ll hand you back over now. I just wanted to talk to you. See you’re all right.’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘And we’ll sort this all out. Luke’s been working round the clock to try and get a handle on it …’

  ‘I know. So have I.’

  ‘He says you’re not alone? Some friend of yours …?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, because she’d probably prefer to imagine I was with someone than that I was alone. Clearly Luke hadn’t been letting her eavesdrop. ‘And I’m eating properly and everything.’ Another lie, but what the hell.

  ‘I’m very proud of you, Sophie,’ my mother said, and then there was a muffled sob, and she was gone.

  He left Sophie’s parents sitting on a log in the woods where they usually walked their dog, dissecting every nuance of what she’d said, and walked back to his car with Chalker. He’d never asked why Sophie’s brother had that nickname – having been to school with boys known variously as Biffy, Tonto, Cleggers, The Berserker, Alice and Skidmark, he didn’t really want to.

  ‘You doing okay?’ Chalker asked.

  ‘F
ive by five.’

  ‘That’s what Sophie says.’

  ‘It’s a Buffy thing,’ Luke said, getting out his keys.

  Chalker rolled his eyes, looking uncannily like his sister when he did.

  ‘This guy she’s hanging out with …?’

  Luke waited politely, having decided not to divulge that Sophie was currently flying solo, at least until she did.

  ‘Is he, you know, okay?’

  ‘I haven’t met him,’ Luke said. ‘But his sister is a friend of mine.’

  ‘Sophie says –’ Chalker began, then stopped, a flush on his cheeks.

  ‘Sophie says a lot of things,’ Luke agreed amiably. He could pretty well guess what Chalker had been about to say. Sophie says you don’t have any friends.

  ‘Maria is a work colleague of mine,’ he said. ‘I trust her implicitly. And she’ll be doing whatever she can to clear her brother’s name, so that’s two of us on the case.’

  Another lie. He didn’t think it would be helpful for Sophie’s family to know he’d been stood down and that Maria had barely managed to exchange half-a-dozen cryptic texts with her brother. She wasn’t under lockdown just yet, but then Luke supposed he was serving as a cautionary tale these days.

  ‘So he’s all right? I mean … it’s just I don’t want her to be … you know, it must be horrible to have to do this sort of thing alone.’

  Luke, who’d heard the aching loneliness in Sophie’s voice, just nodded. ‘I’m sure he’s a great comfort to her,’ he said as expressionlessly as he could, and opened the car door. ‘See you.’

  Chalker nodded and watched Luke drive away. He felt the younger man’s gaze on him right down the lane, and the weight of it was still heavy on his shoulders as he turned onto the road.

  He was tired, and he was worried. But he was also home, with an unexpected network of friends and family to support him. Sophie had nothing but a voice on the end of a telephone.

  He parked in front of his own house and sat for a long moment in the gathering dusk, his forearms resting on the steering wheel. On the one hand, Sophie alone and friendless. On the other, the constant, day-and-night company of a good-looking young man. Focus, Luke! The company of a paranoid young man who thinks she’s out to get him.

  What if Jack gave too much away to Maria? What if he turned on Sophie?

  What if Sophie just needed someone to cover her?

  It must be horrible to have to do this sort of thing alone.

  He got out his secure phone and dialled Maria’s number.

  I sat there holding the phone for what felt like ages before it rang again, and Luke’s number flashed up.

  ‘You okay?’ He was gentle, cautious.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, voice wobbly.

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘Like I’m even expected to tell the truth any more.’

  ‘I think it meant a lot for her to know you’re all right.’

  I sniffed.

  ‘Sophie?’ Luke said, more gently.

  ‘Mm-hm?’

  ‘I’m proud of you, too.’

  I closed my eyes again. A fat tear tickled my skin. ‘Why, for getting away with murder?’

  ‘Very funny. You’ve managed to evade me, and Harrington –’

  ‘Only since yesterday,’ I said.

  Another sigh. I could picture him, leaning against the counter in his shiny kitchen, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing up his eyes, the way he did when he was tired and exasperated with me.

  It’s probably not a good thing that this is an expression I’m familiar with.

  ‘You don’t think he blew the car up, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Luke. Look, I’m tired and hungry and I’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days solid, and since when did you decide you could tell my mother about SO17?’

  ‘Since she wanted to know why her daughter was wanted for murder.’

  I nodded to myself, and ended up like a dog in a car window. I couldn’t stop.

  ‘Okay,’ I yawned, ‘I really need to get some sleep.’

  ‘Is it night time where you are?’

  ‘No.’ I smiled at his rather pathetic attempt at locating me. ‘I’ve just been up all night.’

  ‘I could trace your passport, you know.’

  ‘I’d be gone by the time you found me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he sighed, ‘I guess you would. I’ll get back to you on those six.’

  I ended the call and sat there looking out at the low-fenced yard. Green grass and sandy paving, a set of swings in the corner, a bike flung haphazardly on the lawn. A safe, closeted, family garden.

  I stood up and turned to go in and nearly fainted when I saw Rachel standing there, watching me.

  ‘How long have you been there?’

  ‘A while.’

  ‘Were you listening?’

  ‘You were right outside the window,’ she said, ‘I heard every word.’

  I winced, recalling my comments about phone sex among other things. Rachel might be ludicrously smart, but she was still nine.

  ‘My, what big ears you have,’ I snapped.

  ‘You want my help or not?’

  I rolled my shoulders. ‘Yes. Sorry. Did you find anything?’

  ‘You know Docherty? Michael Docherty?’

  I frowned. Was she asking, or just making a reference? ‘Yes?’

  ‘How … well do you know him?’

  How long have you got?

  ‘He’s a … friend,’ I said cautiously.

  ‘You have a lot of “friends”.’

  ‘What can I say, I’m just Miss Popular.’ I paused. ‘You know him, too?’ Maybe Angel had mentioned him.

  ‘No.’

  I relaxed.

  ‘But Chesshyre and Shepherd did.’

  Chapter Nine

  The place was deserted, but Luke rather suspected that was the point. He had to give Jack points for thinking about the location: remote, empty both of people and anywhere surveillance could possibly be hidden, lacking in trees or bushes where an ambush could lurk.

  Even if it was bloody freezing.

  He huddled into his fleece, leaning against the car, squinting out across the dark sea. It wasn’t the sort of beach where children played. It was the sort of beach where dead bodies got washed up. He wished like hell he’d brought Sophie’s car to traverse it more easily. But his flat was back under surveillance, and even if he’d wanted MI5 listening in on his meeting with Jack, he was fairly sure the other man would shoot him dead on sight for bringing anyone else with him.

  So he’d played cat-and-mouse with a succession of buses, taxis, the London Underground and his old favourite: pickpocketing car keys from someone leaving an underground car park, then aiming the remote at every vehicle until he got one that responded. It was risky, it was illegal, and it had made him smile for the first time since Sophie left his bed.

  He’d return the BMW when he was done here. Probably. It was damn annoying being the good guy.

  ‘Nice wheels,’ came a voice behind him, and Luke cursed himself for thinking about his girlfriend instead of paying attention to his surroundings. Although what with the waves crashing on the sand and the cold wind blowing in his ears, a whole squadron of cavalry could have surrounded him and he probably wouldn’t have heard them coming.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, not turning, ‘they came with the car.’

  ‘You’re Luke Sharpe?’

  At that he turned, and faced Jack de Valera across the car roof.

  ‘On my better days, yes. I’m Luke Sharpe. You’re Maria’s brother.’

  ‘Jack.’ Luke inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘What’re you packing?’

  ‘Ham sandwiches,’ Luke said. It was a Sophie-like response, flippant and irrelevant, and he watched the younger man’s eyes narrow as he took it in. ‘And a SIG-Sauer P-229.’

  ‘Show me.’

  He took the gun from his waistband and held it by the barrel.

  ‘Eject the magaz
ine.’

  Luke said nothing, but did as he was asked. He laid the cartridge down on the roof of the car, and Jack reached out for it. Luke kept his reaction private. He never let anyone touch his gun.

  Desperate times, Luke.

  ‘You can have this back when we’re done,’ Jack said, tucking the magazine into a pocket.

  ‘And what are you carrying?’

  A flash of rage crossed Jack’s face. ‘I’m not. Your girlfriend stole my gun.’

  At that Luke laughed. ‘Yeah, she does that. You know where she is?’

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘No.’ He had a few ideas, but he didn’t know. ‘Why did you turn on her?’

  ‘I’m asking the questions.’

  Luke raised one eyebrow. He was maybe ten years older than this guy, but if, as Maria said Jack had been bounty hunting since his youth, then those extra ten years probably didn’t account for much.

  However, Luke did have one crucial advantage, namely a year of dealing with the stubborn, contrary, brilliant, corkscrew-brained entity known as Sophie Green. Jack, the poor sod, could never have developed the negotiating skills Luke had, although since he’d spent a week with Sophie he ought to have figured a few things out.

  ‘I’m the MI6 officer here,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m going to ask the questions, and you’re going to answer them. And if you don’t, I’m going to have to do something I really don’t want to.’

  He saw Jack’s dark gaze flicker uncertainly over him. The car hid most of his body, but it wouldn’t be an unreasonable assumption that Luke might have more concealed weaponry about his person.

  ‘I’m going to get in this car and drive away,’ Luke said. ‘Which would mean this whole trip would be wasted and I’ll be no closer to finding out what you know about Sophie. I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to take you in. I’m not here on official business, which makes everything nicely untraceable. Quite frankly, I don’t give a rat’s arse what you’ve done and who you’ve done it to. Unless you’ve done it to Sophie.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing to Sophie,’ Jack said hurriedly.

  ‘That’s not the way she tells it.’

  For a moment, something flickered in the other man’s expression. Luke knew it well. Jack felt guilty about something – but what, exactly?

  ‘Look,’ Jack said, ‘I want to trust her. I really do. But she runs off to see you – so she tells me – and then the next day, we’re very nearly intercepted by MI5. And that’s a bit too much of a coincidence for me. I want to know who told them we were going to be there. Because if it wasn’t her, it was you.’