Bubblegum Smoothie (24 page)

The front of Lenny’s Mini Cooper was smashed. Completely smashed in. Lenny sat behind the wheel, eyes wide, hands raised, like he was a statue.

Jed’s Land Rover sped down the road. Sped to the end of Moss House Avenue and took a left.

The backup. Where the bloody hell was the backup? I’d heard an engine. I’d heard—

“What the hell happened to you, hun?”

I turned around. Saw Martha’s blue Fiat Punto parked on the kerb, the engine rumbling.

I hobbled towards her. Hobbled, still holding onto my thigh, blood dribbling out of it.

“The Land Rover,” I said, as I threw myself into the passenger seat. “Jed—Jed’s Land Rover.”

“Blake, I… I think you need a doctor, darling. I think we need to—”

“Follow that frigging Land Rover. Now!”

FORTY-ONE

Jed Chipps’ heart races as he drives away from Moss House Avenue.

“Walking On Sunshine” plays through his car radio. He stares out at the road ahead, but his vision is blurry. He tastes blood on his lips—the blood of his wife, which splashed over him when he pressed the blade against her arm, sliced through her skin, through her muscle, into her bone.

And then Blake Dent arrived. Out of nowhere, he arrived and he got in the way.

He stopped him from killing her. Stopped him from having all the fun in the world with Jenny, from completing the fifth part of his revenge-killing puzzle in style.

Shame. But oh well. The bitch would bleed out anyway.

And he’d got what he wanted.

“Where are we going, Daddy?” Daley asks.

Jed looks at him in his rear view mirror. Sees his cute little face, his innocent brown eyes. Oh, his boy. Just hearing Daley call him “Daddy” calms Jed right away, cuts through all his worries.

Jed smiles at him. “We’re just going somewhere fun. Somewhere we can have some good father-son time together.”

Daley stares at Jed with his blank little eyes. Jed senses a million questions behind them.

“Where’s Mummy?” he asks.

Jed looks away from the rear-view mirror. Looks at the road ahead, the traffic building up as they get further into town, closer to the bus station, which towers above everything.

“Mummy will be with us soon,” he says. He stares up to the top of the bus station. Looks at the multi-storey car park between the bus station and the roof, eighty metres above ground.

“Are we going to the zoo?” Daley asks.

Jed smiles.

He turns right into the bus station. Turns again, into the spiralling car park entrance.

“Sort of,” Jed says. “Sort of like a zoo. Only a zoo with all the animals, all the creatures in the world.”

Daley smiles.

He actually looks excited.

Jed tastes the salt of his tears on his lips as he tries to hold a quivering smile.

He wishes he had more time with his son. Wishes he’d been given the opportunity to raise him, like a real father should.

But hey. He hadn’t.

So now he is going to be with Daley forever.

Pieces six and seven of his jigsaw.

The final pieces.

FORTY-TWO

“Honey, I really think we should get to a hospital. We can leave Chipps to—”

“Just drive, Martha.”

I clutched my lower leg as Martha put her foot down on the accelerator. The bleeding wasn’t so bad, not since I’d wrapped it in one of Martha’s old white t-shirts. Well, I say old. She looked pretty gutted when I tightened it around my leg and soaked it in blood, I must admit.

“We’ve been following him ten minutes,” Martha said. She leaned forward, squinted through her window. “I… He could’ve turned anywhere. He could’ve—”

“We have to find him,” I said. My throat was dry. Colours filled up my vision. I knew I was being stupid not going to the hospital right away. But hell—that was just me through and through. “Besides, do you trust Lenny’s band of loons to catch this guy?”

Martha tilted her head. “Fair point.”

“He has his kid, Daley. He’s tortured, probably killed his wife, I’m sure of that. Who the frig knows what he’ll do next?”

“He doesn’t sound like the reasoning type, I will admit.”

“To put it lightly.”

Martha slowed down as we approached a set of traffic lights. Great. Just what I needed—bloody traffic lights.

“Always when you’re trying to bloody get somewhere,” Martha said.

I bit my lip. Stared at the empty road ahead. The
safe, clear
road ahead.

“Martha, put your foot on the accelerator.”

She looked at me and frowned. “What? They’re on red. We can’t—”

She didn’t carry on speaking because I leaned over and pushed the accelerator down with my good leg.

“Blake! You tit. You tit. Last thing we need is to get caught—”

“You’re halfway over now. Might as well go all the way.”

She looked either side. I heard cars honking behind us, beside us.

She shook her head. “I won’t forget this.”

And then she put her foot on the gas and carried on through the red lights.

We sped down the A6, heading towards town. Hopped another few lights on our way, but nobody seemed to notice so that was forgivable. I looked left and right, tried to spot the Land Rover, whether it might’ve pulled up or taken a turn.

“Frigging Land Rover can’t have got too far,” I mumbled.

“You living in the eighties or something? Have you even
seen
a modern Land Rover move?”

I shrugged. “Why would I have any interest in a bastardisation of a minivan?”

We headed further towards the city centre.

“Shitting traffic,” I said. It got thicker and thicker the closer to the city we got.

“Blake, I don’t mean to pry, and I, like, want my cut of the money as much as you, but we should really call the police. Like, now.”

“And what? Have them hijack this entire job of ours? Have Lenny’s goons step in and take all the credit? No. This is ours. We’ve got this—”

“There’s a child at stake. You said it yourself. Let the money and the pride go.”

I looked at the traffic all around us. Looked at every car resembling a Land Rover, looked out for Chipps.

“You’re bleeding to death and we’re stuck in a traffic jam. Is this really the right way to go about things? Really?”

I knew Martha was right. I just couldn’t accept it, deep down. I’d seen Lenny nearly snatch this job away from me too many times already. I didn’t want to risk that happening again.

Besides, there was a kid involved. And that kid was in danger unless somebody could stop him.

“Lenny might stick to his word, I suppose,” I said.

Martha screwed up her nose. “Yeah. He might.”

She hardly inspired me with confidence.

“We need to get you to the hospital, hun. Call Lenny. Tell him how far we’ve searched. But our part in this is over. I’m sorry Blake, but you know I’m right.”

Disappointment didn’t
feel
like anything. It wasn’t a slackening of the muscles culminating in a sigh. It was just what it was: disappointment.

I lifted the cracked phone out of my pocket. Almost bloody teared up at the thought that I’d never be able to pay for a replacement.

“We’ve done alright,” Martha said. “Chased him to the end. Now it’s time to let the authorities take over.”

I didn’t respond to Martha. I didn’t want to admit defeat, not aloud. Admitting defeat silently was hard enough.

I hit Lenny’s name. Lifted the phone to my ear. Listened to the dialling tone.

And then I noticed something up ahead.

“Is that…?”

Beyond the traffic, I could see the bus station. The sun shone against it so brightly that white light gleamed off its ugly metal exterior.

“I… It can’t be. It… He wouldn’t.”

“Blakey!” Lenny’s voice powered through the phone speaker. “Holy shit, Blakey. Did you
see
that nutter fly into my car? Took the pissing front off my Mini with his—”

“I’m fine Lenny, thanks for asking. A little bit stabbed, but fine.”

I blinked. Focused on the top of the bus station, beyond the pile-up of traffic.

Somebody was standing by the edge of the roof.

A man in a black hoodie.

And in front of him, a kid with curly brown hair. Wearing an England shirt and staring down at the concrete below.

“A little stabbed is better than a lot stabbed. Anyway, my Mini. Do you think insurance will cover it? I mean, my insurers are based in India, I swear. Whenever I call them, I end up on to this funny-voiced guy called Gupter and—”

“Later, Lenny.”

I cancelled the call.

“Drive. We have to get through there.”

Martha shook her head. “Through the traffic? I don’t drive an invisibility car.”

I looked over at the pavement. It was empty, and offered a clear run down to the bus station.

“On the pavement. We’re getting Chipps. We’ve come this far, we’re not giving up now.”

Martha sighed. “What about all that realisation shit? Wasn’t a realisation supposed to be, like, the hallmark of any good story climax? The character’s major turning point?”

I shook my head. Imagined my new iPad Air, my curved TV.

“This character is never frigging changing. Drive.”

Martha put her foot down.

We moved out of the pile-up of traffic and bounced onto the pavement.

A chorus of honking horns met our pavement manoeuvre. Drivers stared at us, jaws slack.

“Faster, Martha! Faster!”

Martha put her foot down even more. We flew along the pavement, shot past the crowd of waiting cars, closed in on the bus station.

“Holy shit, hun! Fucking conga-style shit going on behind!”

I looked in the mirror and saw what Martha meant.

Other cars were following us onto the pavement. Flying down with us.

I smiled. Stared up at Jed Chipps and his boy.

Shit. I had no frigging idea how I was getting them off this building alive. But bloody hell. Speeding along a pavement in a blue Fiat Punto. That was some Bond-like action.

If it wasn’t taking place in a blue Fiat Punto, of course.

We slowed down as we got closer to the bus station, as the traffic eased off. Martha turned back onto the road, and entered through the “Bus Only” entrance.

“Remind me never to taxi you again,” Martha said.

I couldn’t stop myself smiling. Despite the bloody drastic situation, the horror of what was about to happen, I couldn’t help but grin.

At least, until I felt the car bounce, scrape against the ground, and fly into the concrete bollards at the side of the bus station car park.

Martha and I sat there. Smoke plumed out of the car bonnet.

“What just…”

“Step out of the vehicle with your hands above your head.”

My stomach sank.

“Oh shit,” Martha said. “Not another speeding fine. I can’t afford any more points on my licence. I’m all pointed out.”

I looked at Martha’s car, its dashboard crumpled, smoke seeping out of it.

“I think you’ve worse worries than points,” I said.

Martha looked around, and I did too.

“I think we both have.”

Six marked police cars were approaching Martha’s trashed car.

FORTY-THREE

I’d failed enough damned times in my life to know what failure looked like.

And right now, trapped inside Martha’s trashed Fiat Punto in the bus station car park, police cars closing in on us, failure looked clearer than ever.

“So what now, hmm? We walk out there with our hands over our head?”

I ignored Martha. She had a tendency to overreact in uncomfortable situations.

I looked up at Jed Chipps and poor Daley Chipps. Although he was far up, I thought I saw Jed smile at me as he stood behind his son.

“We get out. We get out and apologise. We… we explain everything. About the stabbing. About—”

“God, Martha. Will you just give me a minute?”

“A minute?” She slammed her hands against the steering wheel. “A bloody minute? Have you looked around any time in the last ten seconds, hun? Only there’s six bloody squad cars coming our way. We’re fucked. Lenny’s gonna get what he wanted all along—Chipps dead, us behind bars, and not a dime worse off.”

I cringed. “Don’t call it a ‘dime.’”

Martha puffed out her lips. “Don’t call it a… Wait, that’s your concern? Your main concern here is whether I call a dime a dime or not?”

“Just don’t use that frigging word, okay? Dime. It’s so… it’s so Americanised. Just gets on my tits.”

Martha shook her head. She leaned back, put her face in her hands, started laughing. “I’m trapped in a car with a lunatic. An absolute lunatic.”

I wished I knew what to do. I wished I had a plan of action, like all heroes were supposed to at the end of stories. The police cars were getting closer. I was so close to arrest. And judging by how bloody inept the police were, they’d send Jed Chipps and his son flying to the concrete faster than I could say “OhmygodwhatthefuckhaveIgotmyselfinto?”

“I have to try something,” I said.

“Yes. Yes you do have to try something. Try being a rational human being.”

I stared out of the passenger window. The entrance to the bus station was about forty, fifty feet away.

“I can get through that entrance if I run quickly. I can sneak inside the station. Sneak up on Chipps.”

“With a bleeding leg? Good luck with that.”

I shrugged. “Just a scratch.”

Martha slumped forward. “Well good luck with that, Rambo. Let me know how it goes. I’m getting out of here before I get in any more shit.”

The driver’s door clunked, and Martha stepped out.

I heard the police shout at her to put her hands up. Heard the engines slow down, the doors open, footsteps moving along the concrete.

I bit my lip. Looked over at the entrance to the bus station.

I could give in like a wimp and watch Jed Chipps complete his final act.

Or I could try something.

Jesus Christ.
Moral compass, you pick a time to show up in my life.

I grabbed the handle. Squeezed it tight.

“Bugger to it.”

And then I opened the door.

I stepped out into the cool air. I didn’t look at the police, even though I could hear them coming my way.