Blood Tracks (16 page)

“I’m going to see what Tom’s doing. You stay here,” Declan whispered to Gina.

He crept to the end of Aisle One and poked his head round the corner. He could see Tom in the truck about halfway down the aisle. His boss was using the forklift to lower a stack of sacks from one of the upper shelves, but Declan was too far away to really see what Tom was up to; he had to get closer. He started to crawl along the piles of sacks on the bottom shelves and got as close as he dared before taking out his phone ready to take photographic evidence.

The warehouse fell into silence as Tom cut the engine and jumped down from the truck. With his back to Declan he began sifting his way through the sacks before separating out one in particular. Declan leaned out from the shelf, his phone poised to take the photo, but Tom turned round! Declan froze.
He’s going to see me!

There was a sharp tug on his jeans and Declan felt himself sliding backwards and out of sight. He turned and gave Gina a wide-eyed smile of gratitude. Neither of them dared speak. Tom stepped over to the truck and picked a gleaming knife from the seat. He kneeled down in front of the sack and slit it open like a butcher. Declan and Gina strained to see, but Tom’s back blocked their view. Tom started to rummage around inside it, cocoa beans spilling out all around him. After a moment, he pulled something out, inspected it and put it in his jacket. He then climbed back into the forklift and proceeded to carefully lift all the other sacks back onto the shelf. When he’d finished, he turned the forklift off and gathered up the open sack and all the spilled cocoa beans. Gina and Declan pressed themselves against the back of the deep shelf as he passed by on his way to the exit, carrying the open sack. He reset the alarm, turned off the main lights and left, locking Declan and Gina inside.

“What do you think it was?” Gina asked, scrambling out from the shelf.

“Don’t know. Couldn’t see,” Declan groaned.

“Are we locked in?”

“Yep. He’s put the mortise lock on.”

“Well, should I call the police?”

“And tell them what? That he’s come into his own warehouse and taken something out of one of his own sacks? They’re not going to be interested. We’re the ones who aren’t meant to be in here. If you phone the police, we’re the ones who’ll end up in trouble.”

“So we’re here for the night?”

“Yeah, unless…”

“Unless what?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he answered, distractedly. “I’d better phone Mrs. Mac, make up some excuse for not getting home. What about you? How are you going to explain this?”

“I’m all sorted,” Gina said with a mixture of pride and guilt. “My mum thinks I’m at a sleepover.”

Declan walked out of her earshot and made his call.

“Yeah,” said the gruff voice.

“Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?” Declan said. “I’ve left loads of messages. Why didn’t you get back to me?”

“My phone’s been off. I was on a job,” Stevie replied.

“Well, it’s your loss, because Cotter has just been in the warehouse, taken something from one of the sacks of cocoa beans and left.”

“What the hell was it?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t see.”

“You’re useless!”

“Get lost! You should be thanking me. I’ve just found out that Cotter’s probably involved in some sort of smuggling racket.”

“Where is he now?”

“How should I know? He left the warehouse and now I’m locked in here.” Declan omitted to say that Gina was there too. He knew it wouldn’t go down very well with Stevie.

“Well,” Stevie scoffed, “it won’t do you any harm. You can just sit tight until someone opens up in the morning.”

“But how am I going to explain being locked in the warehouse all night?”

“Use your bloody initiative, soft lad! You don’t want Cotter finding out you were there. Listen, you’ve done okay,” he said begrudgingly. “I’ll speak to you in the morning.”

Tom looked in his rear-view mirror and saw the blue lights flashing in the darkness. His instinct was to put his foot down, try to outrun them but, as if they could read his mind, the siren began to wail its warning. He pulled over onto the hard shoulder and took a deep breath, smoothing his hair back with his hands.

The two policemen kept him waiting as they sat in their car, checking his registration number on their computer database. They then walked along either side of his vehicle, shining their torches into it.

Tom put his window down and asked politely, “Can I help you, officers?”

“Driver’s licence, please,” a thickset officer said.

Tom got it out of the glove compartment and handed it over for inspection.

“Would you mind getting out of the car, sir, and going over to my colleague on the grass verge?”

Tom did as he was told.

“Look, could you please tell me why you’ve pulled me over?” Tom asked tensely.

He didn’t get an answer. He watched anxiously, as the light from the officer’s torch probed every corner of the car’s interior.

“Would you open the boot for us please, sir?” the second officer asked.

Tom obliged and the door of the boot glided open to reveal the gaping sack inside.

“What’s this?” the officer said, feeling around the contents.

“They’re cocoa beans, officer. It’s my business. I import them. These particular ones were damaged so I was going to dispose of them. Now, are you going to tell me why you’ve stopped me?”

“We clocked you travelling at a speed of ninety-six miles per hour. Do you know what the motorway speed limit is?”

Tom’s tense face cracked into a smile.

“Do you find breaking the law amusing, sir?” the burly officer asked.

“Of course not,” Tom replied.

“Blow into this.” The second officer produced a breathalyzer and held it to Tom’s mouth.

The breathalyzer pinged and the policeman shook his head. “He’s clear.”

The burly policeman seemed disappointed. He handed Tom his licence back. “You’ll receive a letter in the post regarding a fine and points on your licence. I hope that I won’t have to pull you over in the future, sir.”

“Oh, so do I, officer,” Tom said with genuine sincerity.

Gina climbed up the rolling ladder and checked the lot numbers on the mound of sacks that Tom had just replaced there.

She pulled out her notebook and found where she’d copied down the numbers. “Yeah,” she called down to Declan. “They’re all lot number fifty-four, the same number as on the piece of paper. You were right about the code. Do you think it could be drugs?”

“Could be.” He didn’t sound convinced. “But if it is, we’re only talking tiny amounts. It fitted in his jacket!”

“Yeah, but it could be a sample of some new super-drug or…what about some kind of detonator for a bomb?” Gina suggested, her mind whirring.

“We could guess all night, but we’ll never get to know, stuck in here.” Declan gave a frustrated sigh.

“I can think of worse places to be stuck,” Gina said, pressing her nose into the mound of coarse sacks. “God, I love that smell! I love this place! It just reminds me so much of my dad; even the ladders.” She tapped the rung with her hand. “Sometimes, when I came to visit the warehouse, Dad would let me climb a little way up, and then he’d push it and I’d go whizzing along the shelves. It was great.”

“I could push you on it now, if you want?” Declan said, brightening up.

“Go on then.” She grinned, gripping onto the rungs.

“Hold tight,” Declan warned, as he gave the side of the ladder an almighty shove. He watched in alarm as Gina rocketed down the length of the aisle, the ladder rattling along the runners. It hit the rubber stoppers at the end and rebounded, almost throwing her off. He ran to her.

“Are you okay? I had no idea it would be
that
fast or that loud.”

She laughed giddily, unable to let go of the ladder. “That was brilliant!”

Declan helped her down.

“Do you want a go?” she asked.

“No, we need to keep the noise down.” He plonked down on the nearest pile of sacks. “You haven’t got any food, have you? I’m starving.”

Gina pulled out her lunchbox from her schoolbag and sat down beside him. “A soggy sandwich and a half-eaten packet of crisps – my leftovers. It’s the best I can do.”

He took them gratefully.

Gina wasn’t even aware that she was staring at him as he ate. She let out a tiny sigh. Declan looked at her looking at him and started to pat his mouth.

“Have I got something on my face?” he asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Oh, only you were looking at it like I had.” He shrugged.

Gina felt her face heat up. “Yeah…well, maybe there was a little something but it’s gone now,” she lied.

She was grateful when his phone vibrated and took his attention off her.

“It’s my mum,” Declan said in surprise. “Mammy, it’s a bit late for you to be phoning, isn’t it?”

“Hi, sweetheart. Well I’m just lying here awake so I thought I might as well give you a ring. I know I shouldn’t disturb you when you’re busy, but Mrs. Mac rang to say that you were doing extra work, a night shift! I just wanted to tell you how pleased me and your daddy are.”

“Oh, it’s nothing…just a one-off.”

“You know we miss you, love.” Her voice quivered. “Please think about coming over. The life here will be good for you, Declan.”

“Mammy, you’re talking like you’re in Australia or something. You’re only a boat ride away. When I get some more money together I’ll hop over and visit. I promise.”

“Okay, see that you do. Now, Mrs. McManus tells me you’ve got a new
friend
. A girl, Gina, isn’t it?”

“Mrs. McManus is very good at keeping you informed,” he said, rolling his eyes at Gina.

“Well, someone has to; you never volunteer any information. Anyway, what’s she like? Would
I
approve of her?”

Declan looked across at Gina and smiled. Gina shrugged, mouthing to him, “What?”

“Yes, Mammy, you’d approve,” he said, holding Gina’s baffled stare.

“Umm, okay then, but don’t be getting too serious. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“You can talk. You and Daddy met when you were still both in nappies.”

“That is entirely different,” she said self-righteously.

“How?”

“Well…I don’t know, it just is. Now don’t be questioning me, I’m your mother.”

Declan chuckled. “Okay, Mammy, whatever you say. Look, I’ve got to get on. I’ll speak to you soon. Give my love to everyone.”

“I will, sweetheart, and Declan…”

“Yes, Mammy?”

“Remember to stay out of trouble.”

“What was that about?” Gina asked, when Declan had rung off.

“Just my mam fussing. She seems to be under the impression that we’re going out together.” She picked up a forced laugh in his voice.

“Us! Going out? Ha!” She rolled her eyes in mock outrage, while inside her head she shouted at him,
Please say you want to. Go on, Declan, say you want to!

“I know, ridiculous, isn’t it?” His frivolous tone was gone. His voice sounded rich and serious. Every other noise seemed to have been silenced. All Gina could hear was her own breathing; all she could see was Declan’s face. Was she imagining it, or did he just lean in, ever so slightly, towards her? Did his head just tilt a fraction? Did his lips just part, the tiniest bit?

This is it! He’s going to do it, s
he thought
. Why’s he being so slow, so shy? I’m just going to have to go for it. It’s now or never!

Gina shuffled towards him and tilted her head in the opposite direction to avoid clashing noses. She closed her eyes and leaned in until she was a hair’s breadth away from his lips. There she hovered in exquisite anticipation. But seconds passed and nothing happed. Gina opened one eye to investigate.

Declan found himself eyeball to eyeball with her. He was convinced that she could see into his very soul and he shot away, like she’d given him an electric shock.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, dismayed.

“Nothing. I just can’t, I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“But…but you looked like you wanted to,” Gina said, mortified.

“Well I can’t. I don’t.”

Gina saw how flustered he was and a thought suddenly dawned on her. “Oh my God! I know what you’re up to!”

“What? Do you?” Declan panicked, his voice squeaked.

“You’ve got a girlfriend, haven’t you? You’re feeling guilty. That’s why you haven’t introduced me to any of your mates. You’re afraid that they’ll tell me or tell
her
.”

Declan tried to hide his relief. “No, I haven’t got a girlfriend, honest!”

“Then what’s the matter?” she said, feeling literally repulsive.

“It’s me, not you,” Declan said hurriedly.

She winced.
Is he really using that line on me?

“I’m sorry. It’s complicated. It’s not a good time for us.” He looked pained.

“What does that even mean?” she said, confused and humiliated. “Oh, forget it. It’s my mistake.” She picked up her bag, sucking in her cheeks to try to stop herself from blubbing. “I’m going to sleep down there.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay awake. We don’t want them to open up in the morning and find us snoring.”