Running on Empty (39 page)

They arrived back at the jeep and jumped in, Brad gunning the engine, tearing bits of gravel from the dirt road as they took off. Pat frantically scanned the map as they drove.

‘There’s a track a couple of hundred yards up, take a right on that’.

‘But that’s not a road at all’ said Brad as they approached, ‘that’s only a goat track through a field’.

‘Take the fucker’ ordered Pat, ‘it’s the best chance we have of catching them. We can’t afford to lose that car, we’re talking family here’.

Brad did as he was told, and swung onto the goat track. The Pathfinder lurched from side to side, trying to get traction in the snow and grass. The wheels gripped and they careered forward, the engine screaming.

‘Hold on’ shouted Brad, just as they were about to hit a ditch. The vehicle shot down, then up again, its wheels spinning in mid air before crashing back to earth with a thud, as Tom’s head hit the roof.

‘You’re fucking lethal’ howled Tom, nursing his sore head, as the 4x4 lunged forward again.

‘Blame your uncle’ shouted Brad, ‘this was his idea’.

The top road could be spotted a hundred yards ahead, and following a couple more skids and bone-jarring shunts, the Pathfinder finally found its path as it lunged up a steep bank and landed on solid road, the sudden wheel-grip almost sending it careering right across and down the opposite bank, Brad somehow managing to wrestle the vehicle sharp left and keep it on the highway.

‘Look, there they are’ exclaimed Pat, pointing at a navy Taurus about a quarter mile ahead.

‘Hang back, keep a good distance between us and them’ He ordered, as he pulled the binoculars from his pocket. ‘We don’t want them to spot us’.

‘I am a cop, you know’ exclaimed Brad sarcastically, and I’ve tailed more cars in my working life than you’ve had Irish Whiskies. So just shut the fuck up, keep them in your sights with those glasses of yours, and let me do the driving’.

‘Right so’ said Pat, ‘fair enough’.

They emerged from the building after about an hour inside, Fielding having given Carter a run-down of the entire operation. Fielding was in conversation with one of the operatives, while Carter stood by the side of the vehicle. He bent down to tie his shoelace, but, having giving a swift glance back towards Fielding to ensure he wasn’t under scrutiny, slowly removed a piece of broken matchstick from the palm of his hand and inserted it in the rear tire valve.

‘Right, let’s go’ ordered Fielding, as he climbed into the passenger seat.

The silver Buick sat with its engine cut in the shadow of ‘Will Baker & Sons, Mechanics’, a semi-circular structure of rusting corrugated sheeting that had long since been abandoned.

‘How long do we wait?’ asked Sally absently.

‘As long as it takes’ replied Grainne, as she rolled herself a cigarette.

‘I wonder what the boys are up to. Should we call them, do you think?’ continued Sally.

‘Better not, not yet anyway. Not much point if we’ve nothing to report. Anyway, they might be in the middle of something, better not to disturb them, just in case. If they want us, they’ll call. I’d like to know what the ‘situation’ Pat mentioned was all about though. He sounded a bit edgy when he called, which isn’t his style at all. They must have come across something unexpected for him to react like that’.

‘Your uncle seems a bit, what’s the word I’m looking for, calculating I suppose, a bit hard. What’s he really like?’

‘Pat? Oh, he’s a hard nut all right, you wouldn’t want to make him your enemy, let’s put it like that. But his heart is good, he always looks to do the right thing. The problem occurs when his version of right doesn’t match the other persons. That’s when the sparks fly’.

‘But’ added Sally, ‘Tom doesn’t seem to be……’

Grainne held her hand in mid air.

‘You hear that?’ she said, ‘sounds like a car is coming’.

A few moments later, a black Sudan passed alongside the abandoned garage and stopped at the t-junction, before taking a right.

‘Showtime’ said Grainne, as she gunned the engine and slotted into drive.

Grainne did as she had been told to do. They followed the black sedan, but made sure to keep well back, the vehicle ahead little more than a black speck on the horizon. However, after driving for five miles or so, she became aware that the gap between the two vehicles was rapidly getting shorter.

‘Grainne, slow down a bit, you’re starting to catch them up’.

‘I’ve been keeping the same speed all along’ replied Grainne, ‘we’re not catching up, they’re slowing down’.

She pulled the car off to the side, coming to rest behind some scrub bushes, which she hoped would conceal them from the road ahead.

Fielding turned to Carter as the sedan slowed, then pulled over to the side of the road.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I think we have a puncture Boss, I’d better check’.

The two men got out, Carter making sure to arrive at the flat wheel first so he could remove the broken piece of matchstick unobserved.

‘Yeah, a puncture alright’ said Carter.

‘Very fucking observant’ said Fielding, ‘I always knew you were the brains behind this operation. Now, deal with it will you, so we can get to hell out of this desolate dump and back to civilization’.

Grainne got out of the Buick and removed her camera backpack from the trunk, attached her 600mm lens to the camera body, and held it up to her eye.

‘What can you see?’ asked Sally, coming to stand beside her.

‘Fuck all’ answered Grainne, ‘we’re too far away’.

‘What?’ exclaimed Sally, ‘even with a giant lens like that?’

‘Contrary to what Hollywood would have us believe, you can’t attach a spindly little lens to a camera and be able to see someone’s pimples from half a mile off’.

She reached into her backpack, removed a x2 teleconverter, and attached it between the lens and camera body, doubling its focal length. She braced her arms on the roof of the vehicle in an effort to keep the image stable.

‘Better, but still not good enough’ she sighed. ‘I’ll have to get closer’.

‘But what about what Pat said, about us keeping our distance?’ asked Sally nervously, ‘we were told not to take any unnecessary risks’.

‘Well, it’s sort of necessary’ answered Grainne. ‘Anyway, I’ll be careful. You wait here and I’ll be back in a few minutes, don’t worry’ she finished, as she bundled the camera gear into her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and took off. She ran diagonally out across the fields, crouched as low as it was possible to be while still moving, making her way in a wide arc towards her intended target. When she was about two hundred yards away she stopped, crouching down behind a large sod of earth. She removed the camera from her bag and held it to her eye.

‘Gotcha!’ she exclaimed quietly to herself, beads of perspiration spread across her brow from the exertion.

‘What’s wrong now?’ asked Fielding.

‘It’s just, I can’t get one of the wheel nuts off, it’s stuck fast, there’s not a budge on it’.

Fielding let out an exasperated sigh.

‘Let me look at it. I guess I have to do everything myself, as usual. No brains, and now no brawn either. I don’t honestly know what the fuck I see in you Carter, I really don’t’.

A puncture,
thought Grainne, as she surveyed the scene through her camera.
Running through half the fields in Nebraska, giving myself a heart attack, all for a fucking puncture?

Still, she continued to observe.

As fielding crouched over the flat tire, taking hold of the wheel brace, Carter quickly glanced up and down the road.

‘You’re totally useless Carter, I’m after loosening this…’

Carter held the gun to the back of Fielding’s skull, and a single shot rang out, echoing across the Nebraska grasslands.

Sally jumped behind the Buick, then slowly rose again, straining her eyes in an effort to see what had just happened, trying to ignore the gnawing fear rising from the pit of her stomach.

Grainne had instinctively pressed the shutter, the camera capturing the scene at a rate of eight frames per second, releasing it temporarily as Carter slipped the gun back into his waistband, but keeping her trigger finger at the ready awaiting further developments.

Carter, after again glancing up and down the road, grabbed Fielding by the ankles and began dragging the lifeless body into an adjacent field until he came to a shallow ditch. Grainne made herself as small as possible. Carter was less than a hundred yards away from her. He returned to the trunk, removing a length of dark green tarpaulin and a small fold-up shovel, before heading back across the field to his erstwhile boss. While Carter was away, Grainne had spent the time frantically pulling handfuls of grass, covering as much of herself and the camera as possible, leaving, she hoped, just the front element of the lens visible. She had also switched the camera to silent mode, hoping this would prevent the sound of the firing shutter from travelling to Carter in the still Nebraska air.

He began digging, but the small fold-up shovel was making little impression on the earth, still part frozen from the long winter. Finally, exasperated from his lack of progress, he threw the shovel to one side and began wrapping Fielding in the tarpaulin sheet, before dumping the body in the shallow grave and covering it up as best he could. Satisfied, he picked up the shovel and headed back to the car, where he set to work on changing the flat tire.

Sally was beside herself with worry. Was Grainne shot, and if so, would Fielding and his accomplice be heading back up the road, or across the fields, looking for her? Again she looked over the roof of the Buick, trying to make out something, anything, that would give her a clue as to what was going on.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the adjoining field, making Sally’s heart miss a beat.

Grainne!

‘You scared the fucking life out of me. Jesus Christ, what the hell happened? I didn’t know what to think, I thought you were dead. What was that shot, and why is your hair and face covered in bits of grass and muck?’

‘Relax, it’s ok. I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry’.

‘What happened, Grainne?’

Sally was shaking and close to tears.

‘Well Sally, that shot you heard? That was the other guy killing Fielding’.

‘What?’

‘Yes, you heard me, and what’s more, I have it all captured in here’ said Grainne triumphantly, gesturing to her mucky camera.

‘Why, where is he now?’

‘He’s up the road, changing a punctured wheel. As to why, I’ve no idea, but I sure would like to know’.

‘So, what do we do now, Grainne?’

‘We wait until he gets on the move again, then follow I suppose, what else is there?’

Grainne threw her camera rucksack back in the trunk, but kept hold of the camera and lens, then began rummaging in her travel bag. Not finding anything suitable, she turned her attention to Sally’s case.

‘You don’t mind if I borrow this?’ she asked of Sally, holding up a small black scarf as she sat back into the car.

‘No’ said Sally, looking confused.

Grainne held the camera to her eye, examining the scene.

‘Well, he’s nearly finished, we’ll be back on the move again soon’

She held the camera down, the long lens between her legs, examining the screen on the back as she scrolled through the images she’d taken.

‘What do you think of this?’ she asked as she turned the screen to face Sally, a rapid sequence of images played depicting Carter assassinating his boss. Sally stared in awe at first, until another emotion took over as she strained for more detail.

‘Can you zoom in closer to the face?’ she asked.

‘Sure’ said Grainne, increasing the magnification.

Sally went quiet, and Grainne immediately knew there was something else, something apart from the murder itself that had grabbed Sally’s attention.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘You want us to take her for a swim Boss?’

‘Huh?’