Outside Chance

by Lyndon Stacey

  ‘God, Ben. This looks awful! I never thought the dogs would go this far.’

  Ben glanced at what he could see of his right shoulder and arm. It wasn’t pretty, that was for sure; bruised, lacerated and oozing.

  ‘I’ll get it looked at tomorrow,’ he promised. ‘Just slap a bit of lint on it and stick it down. I don’t want to keep Nico waiting too long. Where’s your father now?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, exactly. He said to Ray, “I suppose I can rely on you to take care of things here,” and when Ray asked him what he was going to do, he just said, “I’ve got to see a man about a horse.” It was odd, really. Didn’t seem to make much sense after everything else.’

  ‘Oh, I’m afraid it does,’ Ben said grimly. ‘Look, we have to go. This’ll have to wait.’

  ‘Just let me stick this on, then,’ Helen said, placing a wad of lint over his shoulder and sticking the edges down with tape.

  Ben thanked her through gritted teeth and stood up, swaying slightly. The combination of white kitchen, bright fluorescent lighting and Helen’s ministrations was making him feel unpleasantly muzzy.

  ‘Well, you can’t put this on again,’ she observed, holding up the fleece jacket, which now sported vast ragged holes in the shoulder, back and sleeve.

  ‘What the hell’s going on here?’

  They hadn’t heard Finch come in, but now he stood in the kitchen doorway, his brow thunderous.

  ‘I think you know exactly what’s been going on,’ Ben stated, turning a little unsteadily to face him. ‘Because it was you who let the dogs out, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Nonsense. You can’t prove that. I’ve just been out to check on them and they’re exactly where they should be.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks to Mikey.’

  ‘I’m just getting Ben something to wear, and then we’re going,’ Helen told her husband, her face pink with defiance. She pushed past him and disappeared.

  ‘He’s not having any of my fucking clothes!’ Ray shouted after her then turned back to Ben. ‘Not much point in you going – you’ll be too late. Eddie’s gonna fuckin’ cream your Hungarian buddy.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. He’s not been gone long and he won’t know where he’s going. We’ll probably get there first.’

  ‘He’s got the magazine, hasn’t he? Gives all the venues. And I can tell you, he won’t go alone.’

  Ben thought of Spence and his mate, and of Nico waiting, unknowing and alone, on the deserted camping ground.

  His mobile was in the car. He swore and Finch chuckled.

  Helen returned, pulling on a coat and holding out a jumper and leather jacket to Ben.

  ‘Here. I think the jacket might be yours, actually. You left it at Dad’s. I don’t know what it’s doing up here.’

  Ben took it and turned it over in his hands, frowning. The hemline and lower part of the sleeves were scratched and dirty and, in several places, bore small puncture marks. The light dawned.

  Glancing up quickly he was just in time to catch Finch smirking, and something snapped inside.

  ‘You vicious bastard!’ he exclaimed and, taking a short step forward, aimed his fist slap-bang in the middle of the smirk.

  Finch staggered back, crashing into the kitchen door, which swung freely, depositing him with a crash amongst a pile of crockery on the drainer.

  ‘Ben! What’re you doing?’ Helen stood with a hand to her mouth, shocked.

  ‘Ask your bastard of a husband! Ask him why the dogs were half-mad to get at me, and then look at my jacket.’

  ‘Ray?’ Helen’s tone pleaded for some reasonable explanation.

  Finch ignored her. He straightened up, heedless of the plates that slid into the sink and on to the floor as he did so. His nose was bleeding freely, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. He looked at the resulting smear and sniffed.

  ‘I hoped they’d fucking kill you!’ he spat. ‘Comin’ in here; suckin’ up to the Guvnor; telling everybody what to do – who d’you think you bloody are? Well, he’s wise to you now, I can tell you!’ He wiped his face and sniffed again. ‘If you’ve broken my nose, I’ll sue you!’

  Ben gave him a withering look and pulled the jumper on over his head, making sure his vision wasn’t impeded for more than a second. He didn’t rate Finch’s courage very highly but just at the moment he wouldn’t want to turn his back on him. The jacket sat a little tightly over the wadding on his shoulder but he was feeling better all the time, and the satisfaction of delivering Finch’s comeuppance had given him a real high.

  ‘Come on, Missus. We need to hurry,’ he told Helen, who was still looking at her husband as if he’d grown two horns and a tail. ‘I want to try and get Nico on the phone to warn him.’

  ‘You can use ours.’

  ‘Except that I don’t know his number. It’s in my mobile’s memory, and that’s in the car.’ He started for the door. ‘Oh, and if you still want your keys, I should ask your husband. I think you’ll find he’s got them. A little delaying tactic to stop you coming down to meet me, unless I’m much mistaken.’

  They reached the car to find Mikey waiting in the back with a holdall on the seat beside him. He was bubbling over with questions but Ben cut through them.

  ‘Not now, Mikey. I’ve got a call to make.’

  Retrieving his phone from the glove compartment, he keyed in Nico’s number. It didn’t even ring. A message from the network provider informed Ben that the person he’d called was not available and invited him to leave a message.

  ‘Damn! We’ll have to try again in a minute.’

  Ben handed the phone to Helen and gunned the engine.

  ‘Do you know exactly where we’re going?’ she asked as he backed up and then accelerated down the drive.

  ‘Yeah, I was there the day before last.’

  ‘But … haven’t you finished the article, now?’

  ‘Yes, I have, but we’ve become friends.’

  There was silence for a moment as Ben negotiated the junction with the road. He pulled away, pushing each gear to its limit and wishing it were a sports saloon instead of a four-wheel-drive.

  ‘Have you told him about Stephen?’

  ‘Not yet. I wanted to ask the boy first. But it’s up to you, of course.’ He threw a glance at Helen, who looked pensive.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure what I’ll do.’

  ‘Well, for now,’ Ben said, overtaking a slow-moving truck, ‘I suggest you try and get Nico again. If your father gets to him first you may have to visit him in hospital.’

  ‘No, Daddy’s not like that!’ she protested. ‘He loses his temper and shouts sometimes, but he wouldn’t actually hurt anyone.’

  ‘He doesn’t need to. He’s got men to do that for him.’

  Concentrating on the road, Ben nevertheless sensed her staring at him. There had never been much affection between them but he had an idea he was rapidly exhausting any there might have been.

  ‘Look, just ring, will you?’

  She pushed buttons and waited.

  ‘Answerphone again,’ she reported after a moment, with a touch of childish triumph.

  ‘OK; press the phonebook button, scroll through and find Mark Logan. See if you have any better luck with that. If you do, I’ll speak to him.’

  ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘A friend of mine – he’s a policeman.’

  ‘But what about Dad?’

  ‘If he’s as blameless as you say he’s got nothing to worry about, has he?’ Ben observed reasonably.

  As it turned out, Logan was unreachable too and, although they kept trying both numbers at regular intervals, Ben had a horrible feeling that he was all the cavalry Nico was going to get. That wasn’t good. Driving the Mitsubishi close to its limits, his attention divided between checking his rear-view mirror for police patrol cars and scanning the road ahead for speed cameras, he was really beginning to feel the effects of Kaiser and Rommel’s attentions.

  He made the journe
y, without undue incident, in well under an hour; nearly twenty minutes less than it usually took. Though he wasn’t one hundred per cent sure he wouldn’t be getting a speeding ticket through the door at Dairy Cottage in the next week or two.

  Helen had finally managed to get Logan about a quarter of an hour earlier and passed the phone to Ben.

  ‘Mark? I’ve got a problem. Truman’s found out about Nico and I’m pretty sure he’s on his way to confront him.’

  ‘Look, Ben, I’m not sure I can help you. I’m on duty this evening and I’ve been seconded to Swindon.’

  ‘Swindon?’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m out near Chippenham at the moment.’

  Ben’s spirits soared.

  ‘Excellent! Nico’s been camped near Bath. You’re only ten minutes away.’

  ‘I’ve got company,’ Logan warned.

  ‘In this case, the more the merrier,’ Ben assured him. ‘So has Truman.’

  ‘OK, give me details. We’ll be finished here in five and get there a.s.a.p.’

  Now, as Ben drove through the gateway on to what had been the Csikós camping ground and caught a distant glimpse of at least three vehicles in the headlights, he felt Logan couldn’t come any too soon.

  Finally meeting the kind of ground it was designed for, the Mitsubishi tore across the sloping field effortlessly, though the ride was by no means smooth. With the seat bumping against one side of Ben’s shoulder and the seat belt pressing on the other, it was an experience he could have done without but, judging by the low-voiced ‘Wow!’ from the rear seat, Mikey, at least, was enjoying it.

  There was obviously no possible element of surprise, so Ben opted for the bull-in-a-china-shop approach. As they drew closer, his headlights showed Gyorgy’s catering wagon pulled up against the hedge, effectively boxed in, with Truman’s Range Rover parked across its nose and a big saloon car at the back. The scene was partially lit by the lights on the side of the wagon, and there were at least five people present, in two groups – one person sitting or lying on the ground – but Ben couldn’t make out who was who until he was almost upon them.

  Gritting his teeth, he drove between the two sets of people, maintaining his speed until the last moment and then jamming the brakes on hard. The vehicle skidded a little on the frosty grass, coming to a halt only inches from the nearest figure which, fittingly enough, turned out to be Truman himself. Yelling to Helen and Mikey to stay put, Ben leaped out and ran towards the trainer.

  A few yards away a heavily built man was using a mattock to batter Gyorgy’s wagon. The tyres, windscreen, and serving window had already fallen victim, and he’d started on the bodywork with devastating effect. Inside the van, Ben caught sight of another man at work.

  Recovering from the fright of his near miss, Truman sneered.

  ‘Come to watch?’ he enquired, raising his voice to be heard above the noise of the demolition.

  Furious, Ben grabbed the front of Truman’s jacket with one hand and pointed with the other.

  ‘What are they doing?’ he yelled in his face. ‘That’s not Nico’s van!’

  ‘And you think I care?’ Truman said.

  Ben looked past the trainer and away to one side where yet another man, armed with a baseball bat, stood guard over two men, one of whom was sitting on the grass, cradling his left arm. Letting go of Truman, he hurried across.

  ‘Nico! What happened?’

  Nico straightened up from attending to the injured man, who Ben now saw was Gyorgy, but before he could reply the man with the bat cut in.

  ‘Oi! Stay back!’

  Bald, with a pierced ear and eyebrow, he must have been at least six-foot three, and Ben did as he was told.

  ‘I wait for you and then these come.’ Nico was clearly smouldering with suppressed anger. ‘They start hitting at Gyorgy’s wagon and, when we try to stop them, they hit Gyorgy. His arm is broken. There is nothing I can do to stop them, then I see Truman and I understand. But he says you told him where to find me …’

  ‘No. That’s not true. He saw your picture in the magazine.’

  Ben took a step closer, desperate that Nico should believe him, and the big man waved the baseball bat in his direction.

  ‘Oi, you! Get over here with your friends, where I can see you.’

  Ben could see his problem. With Nico on one side and him on the other the guy was outflanked, and the bat obviously wasn’t any use as a long-range weapon. To commit to using it against one of them would lay him open to attack from the other.

  ‘Or what?’ he asked, stepping sideways to compromise the man’s position further.

  Baldy took a step back and appealed to Truman.

  ‘Boss?’

  The trainer had other things on his mind. Contrary to Ben’s order, Helen had got out of the car and was approaching her father, her expression one of complete bewilderment.

  ‘Dad? Stop them! You can’t do this! It’s wrong!’ she cried, grabbing his sleeve.

  Welcome to the real world, Ben thought sourly. A glance reassured him that Mikey, at least, was doing as he was told.

  The two wreckers seemed absorbed in their task.

  ‘Come any closer and I’ll bash your fuckin’ head in!’ Baldy had now apparently realised he was, at least temporarily, on his own.

  ‘You can only take one of us at a time.’ Nico had seen what Ben was doing.

  Baldy swung towards him, looking back nervously over his shoulder at Ben.

  ‘That’s right, I’d keep an eye on me if I were you,’ Ben said approvingly. ‘I’ve got a score to settle, for the other night.’

  It was a guess, but it appeared to have been a good one; Baldy swung round to face him, slapping the bat into the palm of his free hand.

  From behind him, Nico stepped swiftly forward, looking worryingly like David to his Goliath but, like David, he had a hidden arsenal.

  As Baldy glanced round, he may have been just in time to see the foot that floored him, but personally, Ben doubted it. After launching the Ninja-style attack, Nico slipped on the frosty ground and almost fell, but within moments he was poised and ready for action once more.

  However, as far as Baldy was concerned, action was no longer necessary. He’d relinquished his hold on the baseball bat and was lying on the ground at Ben’s feet, looking decidedly groggy. Ben kicked the bat further away and looked across admiringly at Nico.

  ‘Any more where that came from?’

  ‘Plenty,’ Nico assured him. He gestured towards the discarded bat. ‘You don’t use that?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. The police are on their way.’

  ‘Then let’s hope they come soon,’ Nico said, nodding significantly to something behind Ben. He turned to see that the thug with the mattock, under direction from Truman, had paused in his assault on Gyorgy’s wagon and was heading purposefully in their direction.

  ‘Oh, shit!’ Ben said. He had no doubt that the man inside the van would soon be recalled to join the fray.

  Shocked and tearful, Helen was pulling at her father’s arm, pleading with him to call the men off.

  In spite of their past differences, Ben felt a moment’s sympathy for her. Everything she thought she knew and could rely on was being turned upside down in the course of a few short hours.

  A moment was all he could spare, however. He and Nico had much more pressing matters to attend to. A quick, desperate look towards the gate revealed no comforting, blue flashing lights, and he wondered whether the baseball bat might perhaps have been a good idea after all.

  ‘Go on, lad. Teach them a lesson,’ Truman urged as the man with the mattock passed him. Helen’s pleas were interspersed with sobs now, and her father was holding her firmly by the wrist, away and to one side of him. For the time being, she was clearly no more to him than an inconvenience.

  The mattock man was almost as big as his mate had been, and any lack of inches was more than made up for by the ugliness of the weapon he held. Behind him the third man was descending the
steps of the wagon, and Ben’s heart sank as he saw the wood axe in his hands. Nico’s martial arts skills were undoubtedly impressive, but against such as these …

  He shot a swift look at Nico, finding him tense but not noticeably dismayed.

  ‘The axe will make him slow,’ the Hungarian said, not taking his eyes off the oncoming men.

  ‘Oh, good!’ Ben doubted it would make him nearly slow enough.

  ‘Which one do you want?’ Nico asked.

  ‘Neither!’ Ben said with feeling. Was he kidding? If only Gyorgy were fit and able. Jakob’s brother was at least half as heavy again as either of them.

  Nico moved up to stand a foot or two to Ben’s left, and the man with the mattock waited, about six feet away, for his mate to catch him up.

  ‘Do you have a plan?’ Ben asked, under his breath.

  ‘I think we should get closer to Truman,’ came the response. ‘Go, now!’

  On the words Nico pushed Ben away from him and started running so that, within seconds, they had flanked the two advancing men, causing them to turn on their heel to keep their quarry within view.

  As Ben turned in, level with Truman, he saw that the move had thrown the axe-man off balance. Carrying the cumbersome weapon in his right hand and turning to his right, he was in no position to use it.

  Nico was quick to take advantage. A trained and super-fit stuntman, he was almost never off-balance and now he stopped, bouncing on his toes to absorb the change of direction and, quick as lightning, attacked the bigger man with a spinning kick that impacted somewhere in the region of his right ear.

  It was a testament to the axe-man’s strength that he didn’t drop in his tracks, but he staggered back, the axe dragging in the grass as he struggled to keep upright, and finally stumbled heavily into the man with the mattock.

  Taking the only chance that was likely to be offered, Ben darted forward and jumped at his man, using his forearm and elbow to hit him as hard as he could across the side of his neck and jaw.

  It wasn’t hard enough.

  The mattock man obviously had the strength of an ox, for although Ben’s forearm punch drew a grunt from his target, it didn’t floor him. With a twisting movement he managed to shake Ben off and send him sprawling on to the frosty turf, where he immediately began rolling to avoid the very real prospect of being disembowelled.