Driving Big Davie (Dan Starkey) (19 page)

'Dan, don't you feel like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders?'

'Just the opposite.'

Davie shook his head. 'Well, you will. I swear. Soon. You have done the right thing.'

T did it by accident.'

'That doesn't matter. And you saved my life.'

'After you tried to end mine.'

He tutted. 'I didn't try to kill you, Dan. For godsake — we're mates. You were never in any danger.'

I glared at him. 'I still want to go home.'

'I know. But we can't fly back with the gold. I think it might exceed our baggage allowance.'

I laughed in spite of myself. 'That and about ten thousand laws.'

He nodded. I nodded.

'We'll sort it out,' he said.

'You'd better,' I added.

We had just crossed the Pinellas Bayway toll-bridge and were entering the outskirts of St Petersburg City when the car picked us up. I noticed because I was noticing everything — the love bugs copulating on our bonnet, the hum of lawnmowers, the sweet mix of cotton candy and exhaust fumes in the air, the glances of people waiting to cross roads, the perceived looks from drivers going in the opposite direction, the way the traffic-lights ran against us and the way cars seemed to conspire to hem us in. The devil was in the detail, and now the devil was on our tail. We weren't yet wanted men, but we felt like it, and the longer the car remained resolutely on our tail the more jumpy we grew.

We knew it was after us, but we kept denying it.

'It's just the traffic,' Davie said.

'They're just going the same way,' I said, and our eyes flitted nervously back to our mirrors.

It wasn't like you could miss it; it was a big black Land Cruiser, and it followed us with the callous indifference of a warhead.

I was wearing T-shirt and jeans and shades and a baseball cap pulled down. Davie had squeezed his hurting arm into a long-sleeved shirt. Far as we were concerned, we looked like a couple of shit-kickers in a beat-up car. Nothing unusual about that.

I slowed when I could, I went faster when I could. I switched lanes at the merest hint of a break. We intended to hit the Sunshine Skyway again, cross Tampa Bay and head south on the 275. Davie reasoned that if by some miracle the cops did find out who we were, it wouldn't take them long to discover that we were due to fly home out of Sanford. It was the only airport in Florida with a direct flight to Belfast. So he suggested cutting across to Miami; there was a better chance of losing ourselves there and then working out how to get home. It would mean going east either along the Everglades Parkway, also known as Alligator Alley, or heading further south and accessing the smaller FL31, which would take us through Big Cypress National Preserve. We settled on the latter. No particular reason, except that I hated alligators even more than I hated sharks.

Not that it mattered whether we took the 31 or the Yellow Brick Road because the Land Cruiser was suddenly right up behind us.

'Who the fuck is it?' Davie hissed.

'I don't know! How the fuck should I know?'

'You did kill him, didn't you? He was dead? It wasn't just a flesh wound?'

'It went through his eye and out the back of his head, Davie. If it was you it might have missed your brain, but not him.'

Davie sighed and then winced. His arm was hurting and someone was following us. No — they weren't following, they were intimidating us. They were now so close that if I did anything beyond just brushing the brakes, they'd be right into the back of us.

'What do you think the chances are of outrunning them in this thing?' Davie asked.

'Zero,' I said, with absolute certainty. It might once have been a decent motor, but it now barely retained the engine capacity of a milkfloat. It was old and rusted and would fall apart if spoken to harshly.

'Fuck,'
said Davie. 'You still have your gun?'

'It's packed in the boot,' I said.

'Fuck.'

'Do you think they'd give me time to get out and find it?' Davie didn't even shake his head. 'What about yours?'

He opened the glove compartment and showed me it. 'But the bullets are in my bag in the boot.'

'Well, that was fucking stupid.'

'Shut the fuck up — you're one to talk.'

I sighed. We weren't Butch and Sundance. We weren't even Thelma and Louise. We were a whisker away from Laurel and Hardy. Yet Davie had been a cop. He should have known better. Maybe he'd been thrown out for being a tube.

There was a sudden blast of sound from behind, and we both turned to see that a flashing police light had now been affixed to the top of the Land Cruiser.

'The cops,' Davie said needlessly.

'Is that better or worse?'

'I don't know. I don't fucking know.'

'Well, what do I do?' I hissed.

Davie thought for a moment, then shook his head and said, 'We pull over.'

'What if they
know?'

'What if they don't, and it's just a dodgy brake-light? Bluff it, Dan, bluff it.'

I pulled into the side of the road and the Land Cruiser stopped close behind. I made to open the door and use my charm, but a megaphoned voice boomed, 'Please stay in your vehicle. An officer will approach you — please have your licence ready.'

Of course, we didn't
have
a licence, not even one to kill.

'Fuck,' Davie said.

'Fuck,' I said.

The police officer was coming up behind us now. He knocked on the window. I turned as nonchalantly towards him as I could and gave him an Ireland of the Welcomes smile.

'Well, hell,' he said. 'Look who it is.'

For a moment I didn't recognise him — he was out of uniform. It was one of the cops who'd returned our bags to us a couple of days before. He was wearing blue jeans and a tan jacket over a black T-shirt. Smart casual. Miami Nice.

'Hey,' I said, 'how're you doing?'

Davie looked across and waved.

The cop smiled, stepped back a bit and looked at our car. 'Noticed you were riding a bit low in the water there.'

I smiled. 'Yeah, I know. I think we bought half the trinkets in Florida. Kids can't get enough.'

He nodded, then glanced back at his own vehicle. The other cop was now climbing out. It was the same partner. He was in black jeans with a white shirt and there was a chain of white gold around his neck. He came up along Davie's side of the car.

'Hey, Cody, look who it is,' the cop beside me said.

Cody dipped down to look at Davie, who by now had his window down. 'Hey, man, how are you?'

'I'm fine,' Davie said.

'Just saying,' my cop said to Cody, 'saw them riding kind of low, thought maybe they had a problem.'

'Looked kind of low to me,' Cody agreed.

'Well thanks,' I said, 'but there's really no problem.'

'We're just heading east,' said Davie, 'spend the last few days on the other side.'

My cop nodded. 'Well,' he said, 'I hope you enjoyed your stay.'

'We had a blast,' I said.

'Well, that's fine,' my cop said. Then he withdrew a gun from his jacket and placed the barrel against the side of my head. 'Now put your fucking hands where I can see them.'

On the other side Cody was doing the same.

I put my hands on the steering-wheel. Davie put his on the dash. Under his breath he said, 'Fuck.'

A moment later the back door opened and Cody climbed in. 'Now,' he said, 'we're going to go for a little drive.'

I said, 'We're really tired, we were thinking about stopping for a rest.'

He said: 'Shut the fuck up.' He reached forward and ran his free hand over Davie's body. Davie didn't wince when he touched his arm, though I could see his lips tightening against his gums. Cody couldn't quite reach the glove compartment without making himself vulnerable to attack, so he told Davie to open it. He did.

'Reach it out, barrel first.'

Davie did as he was told.

My cop opened my door and searched me. There was nothing to find but sweat. Satisfied, he closed the door again and turned back to his own vehicle and climbed in. He took the police light down from the roof, and then pulled out onto the highway to follow us.

'Are we going anywhere in particular?' I asked.

'Shut up and drive.'

Cody's instructions were strictly of the right-left-right-left variety; there wasn't even a brief history of the area we were driving through, though I knew from following Davie around that he was taking us deeper into the suburbs of St Petersburg.

'This where the station is?' Davie asked.

'Shut your mouth.'

'I'm guessing because you're out of uniform, because you didn't call this in, because you didn't run our plates, I'm guessing you've gone freelance.'

'I told you to shut up.'

'I'm guessing when our bags turned up you went through them and found my gun. I'm guessing you've been watching us ever since.'

'Left here.'

It wasn't an admission, but it wasn't a denial. I would have to apologise one day to a dreamily maligned pancake chef.

'I'm guessing—'

'Will you shut the fuck up!' He pushed the barrel of the gun hard into Davie's head.

I glanced back. 'Look, mate, we're willing to split it with you.'

'It's not about what you're willing to do,
mate.'

'You don't even know what we have,' Davie said.

'You have gold bars. A lot of them.'

'Yeah, right. And we'd be driving this heap of shit.'

'That's what Mikey said as well, until we beat the crap out of him.'

I glanced at Davie. He blew air out of his cheeks.

'Big guys,' Cody said, 'always cry like fucking girls.'

'Is he okay?' I asked.

'Oh yeah. It's not like he'll need skin grafts or anything.'

I sighed.

'Right here.'

'So where
are
you taking us?'

'Somewhere nice and quiet. Somewhere things can go bump in the night and the neighbours don't call the police. Oh — I forgot. We are the police. Now shut the fuck up and pass me the candy.' He nodded forward. Sitting on our front dash was the long-neglected bag of M&Ms. They'd probably melted and set a dozen times in the heat since we'd driven out of Orlando. I passed them back.

Davie said under his breath, 'And I hope you choke on them.'

'I heard that,' Cody said, and struck Davie on the back of the head with the barrel of his gun. Davie ducked forward and cursed. He rubbed at his skull with his good hand.

Cody laughed. He lifted the bag with his gun hand and poured the sweets into the other one, keeping his eyes trained on Davie the whole time. 'You think you're so fucking smart, but you stick out like sore thumbs. Minute the Don went down we had you pinned for it. You are so fucking amateur.'

He laughed again, then filled his gob with sweets.

A moment later there was a sudden eruption of spit and vomit from the back; Cody keeled over, gagging and screaming. The shock of it caused me to swerve on the road; I straightened the vehicle and glanced back just as Davie reached back with his one good arm, grabbed the retching Cody by the hair then dragged him backwards between our seats.

'Fucking hit him!' Davie screamed.

I hesitated for just a moment as I saw Cody's face. There were ants crawling all over it.

He was on his back but he was spitting up, trying to get them up, but they were racing everywhere. Down his throat, across his tongue, now up his nose. Maybe they were mad on sugar. Maybe they were just mad. But I fucking loved them. I brought my left elbow down hard on Cody's face and his nose split and broke under it; hurt my funny bone too, but I wasn't complaining. Cody groaned and started spitting blood as well as ants.Davie let go of his hair and grabbed Cody's arm as he tried to bring his gun up. I hit him again. Davie wrestled the gun from his grasp and then cracked it into his mouth, breaking his front teeth.

Vomit, ants, blood from his nose and sliced gums covered the barrel; Cody's eyes were crossed in horror as he looked at it, but he finally stopped struggling and lay there like a wild horse that had finally been broken.

I looked in the mirror. There was no indication from behind that the other cop had noticed anything. He'd missed my swerve, and the action in the back seat had been low enough to fall under his radar.

'What now?' I said.

'Well, we could call by the local dentist, make sure Cody here gets some good treatment.'

I smiled. It was good to have a sense of humour. It was pure Irish sarcasm. Cody probably didn't get it. He was probably wondering if he had the medical cover and what nice robbers we were. I slapped at my thigh, squashing half a dozen of the ants that were still racing around. It wasn't much of a reward for saving our lives, but Mother Nature's like that; she gives with one hand and takes away with the other.

Davie said, 'Indicate, pull in here.'

'Here?'

It was just an ordinary road with bungalows. I indicated. Davie removed the gun from Cody's mouth and said, 'Sit up, you bastard. You do exactly what I say. Understand?'

Cody nodded.

I pulled in. A moment later the Land Cruiser stopped behind us. I watched in the mirror as the other cop got out and hurried up. He had his hand inside his jacket, ready to pull out his gun.

I rolled my window down as he approached.

'We're outta gas,' I said.

'Aw, shit,' he said, then peered in to get confirmation from Cody.

'And you're out of luck,' Davie added, and raised the gun. I'm not sure what the cop saw first, the state of Cody's mouth or the outline of Davie's gun, but they each had the same effect. He froze.

'Take his gun, Dan.'

I took it. It didn't seem odd to be taking it. I'd been handling guns a lot lately.

Davie turned to Cody. 'Get out of the car. Dan — open the boot.'

I kept the cop's gun trained on him while I opened it! Davie got out, protecting his arm as best he could, then prodded Cody towards the rear.

'Get the gold out,' Davie said, 'and our bags.'

'Davie?'

'Just do it.'

I reached in, moved our bags out. The gold was harder to shift.

Davie said, 'Help him.'