The City Trap (24 page)

The battered blue van revved up raucously. The gear stick had a violent fit until Mouse’s podgy hand calmed it down. Jerry put his hands up to his ears. He looked around
in panic before putting his own hand over Mouse’s.

‘W-W-What are you d-doing?’

‘This is our chance, Stray.’

‘B-But, w-what d-do you m-mean?’

‘Look, they’re all over the shop. They won’t notice us.’

‘B-But w-what are we g-going t-to d-do?’ Jerry almost screamed out the words, and he knew he was shaking far more than the gear stick. Sweat slicked his brow, and he had a dreadful
feeling inside, one that he’d felt only twice before.

‘Justice, Stray, it’s fucking out there staring us in the face, and we’re going to take it, grab our destiny, vent our bloody anger!’

With those words, Mouse wrenched the gear stick into place and slammed her foot down. The van lurched forward, slewed reluctantly to the right, banged into a parked car, mounted the pavement and
then went straight for the fracas ahead.

‘M-Mouse, I’m gonna be sick. I’m g-gonna p-pass out.’

‘Here comes retrib –!’ Mouse shouted.

The van slammed straight into the back of Gus. He and Des shot forward and crashed against the timetable board. Ross, having a few seconds warning, dived to the side. The van missed him by
inches but the wing mirror didn’t. A solid crack on the head, the mirror bent backwards and Ross slumped forward into the open door of the battered van. A shocked Jerry saw the ponytail drape
over his shoe and he felt nausea well up once again.

‘Is that the bastard who got Mary? Is that him?’

‘Y-Yeh.’

‘Pull him inside!’

‘Wha –?’

‘Come on! Grab him! There’s people coming! Grab his belt and hold on!’

Once again a podgy hand hit the gears, a Doc Marten stamped down with rage and the battered blue van hurtled off into the night.

25

The nurse was nice. It was as if she really cared, that Des was special, that he could reach out from his lousiness and hug that uniform which was so sexy because it
wasn’t supposed to be. As he eased his way down the corridor with her holding his arm, he almost believed this was his true reward and they were on the way to Las Palmas.

‘You want me to call you a taxi?’

The downer. Come up for coffee, yes, but don’t expect to stay. Des heaved a big sigh.
Just like always . . . what she’s paid to do
.

‘It’s OK, a friend’s gonna pick me up. Park me in the waiting room and I’ll be fine.’ And he was fine. A little winded, a bit groggy, but not a broken bone or
scratch on his skin. Big Gus had been a buffer, a human airbag, and after the check-up, Des was declared unharmed. Sad for Gus that he had a broken pelvis and severe concussion. But maybe not too
sad. Des felt the van might’ve fared worse. Errol was already in the waiting room. He gave Des a ‘here we go again’ look and strolled over.

‘I can take over from here, nurse. Is he OK?’

‘Just shaken up that’s all. He needs rest and should watch out for signs of delayed reaction.’

‘Well, I guess I can handle that for him.’

Des groaned to himself. He somehow thought he was in the doghouse.

*

‘So how is it then, Errol, the state of things?’

‘Messy, real messy, of the bucketful of shit kind.’

‘Thought it might be.’

Errol eased his Audi into the traffic crawl that led to Argent Street. Rain was beginning to fall. The windscreen became a gleaming gem-case and the city outside was a slurry of light. Des eased
back in his seat. He didn’t want to talk about the case, he didn’t care any more. All Des wanted was some soul slush from the CD, a few thoughts about Pearl and a nice joint so that the
lights outside would make music too. Errol wasn’t going to oblige.

‘Come on, Des, what d’you know about the Ross abduction? I mean, him and that blue van have disappeared into thin air.’

‘They took him away!’

‘What d’you mean, “they”?’

‘I didn’t get much of a look, but I guess it was Jerry Coton and some of his anarchist friends.’

‘What?’

‘You know, the guy who was having it off with Mary.’ Des looked over at Errol and didn’t like the view. He quickly went on talking. ‘Well, this Jerry guy, he did stutter
something about revenge. I reckon, some drop-out gits from the squat he’d shacked up in, they did some sort of guerrilla attack on Wainwright’s place.’

‘Eh? Des, why do I always get totally lost when I talk to you about this case? How would some spoilt white trash end up at the meet we had arranged? What the hell’s going on,
Des?’

‘I did sort of mention it. They’re just half-crazy dopeheads that’s all.’

‘Je-sus!’

‘Don’t worry, they’ll turn up.’

‘Yeh, they’ll possibly turn up dead.’

‘Nah. Ross’ll probably thank them for rescuing him. He’ll probably give them the money I almost had my fingers on, the bastard. Shit, you haven’t got a spliff, have you,
Errol?’

As they drove on, silence commenced, and accumulated. The calm-before-the-storm kind of silence that, as Des knew, the longer it went on, the greater the inevitable outburst. Des tried some
pre-emptive charm.

‘Yeh, can’t agree with you more, Errol. It was a balls-up. Ross was slippery and well clued up; he was covering himself all the time. What could I do? But there was some loose talk
surely, enough to get them all in for questioning?’

Errol kissed his teeth and stayed silent for a few minutes longer.

‘All right, Des, the wire wasn’t so bad as far as it went,’ he said. ‘A finger was put on Scobie and we can do all the forensic stuff and maybe nobble the shit. But the
rest is totally dicey, Des. I told you, Wainwright has influence. They’re not going to act on that, especially with the way it all turned out. And I ain’t gonna push, man. There’s
already a big dent in my promotion.’

‘Yeh, well, I guess I expected that, which is why I sent off some stuff to the local paper.’

‘What?’

‘Put all the blame on me, Errol. A loose cannon, an unregulated free enterprise PI, a stubborn and stupid dickhead. Feel free. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m thinking of fucking
off to the Canary Isles anyway.’

‘Not just yet, brother. You’ve got to help me find Ross. Those little innuendoes on the tape? Bertha Turton is dead, Des, and that bastard seemed to know it!’

* * *

Someone had wiped the names off the map. Jerry didn’t know where he was. Several hours they’d been driving and he’d finally managed to get Mouse to take a break.
All he could see was darkness, and the dots and threaded lines of lights on a black page. Jerry had ceased to believe in landscapes. All he knew was he stood outside and a lousy wind blew in his
face. He looked uneasily back to the van. The ‘bad guy’ was in there. They had to decide what to do with him. Mouse’s idea was to drive to the sea and dump the guy in.
‘Simple,’ she said. Like hell it was. Mouse had a thing about the sea. A complete opposite to the city. A deep and wild place where the curve of the planet can always be seen. A place
that makes you feel small but never downtrodden. Fine, but where was it? Whichever way you drive in England, she said, you always reach the sea.
Yeh, great, unless you drive around in
circles
. Jerry lit a fag and made his own mark on the black page. He knew what was happening, he knew he wanted to back out. He kicked his feet restlessly. His hardly smoked fag fizzled into
the hedge like a shooting star. Back to a black page. He went to the rear door of the van and opened it. Ross was splayed out on the mattress with arms and legs tied to the sides of the van. Jerry
looked at the sack that covered his face and guessed he could probably be seen through it. But Ross didn’t move and he couldn’t speak because his gob was taped. What now? Jerry sighed
and then reluctantly went to Mouse in the front cab.

‘I just looked in on the b-bad guy.’

‘I heard.’

‘He didn’t move a m-muscle.’

‘Maybe he’s had a heart attack.’

‘I d-didn’t think of that.’

‘I hope he hasn’t. Not after coming this far.’

Jerry sighed again. Mouse was counting out the money they’d found. The gun was stuffed in the waistband of her leggings and a half-smoked joint balanced on her lower lip.

‘So? Come on then, what wonderful ideas did the fresh air give you?’

‘C-Can’t say I g-got m-many, M-Mouse.’

‘You got some, though?’

‘I dunno . . .’

It wasn’t fair, Jerry thought. Mouse, she was just like any other down-and-out really, but she was so bright. She had a mind like a knife. He was all right with her most of the time, could
ease along nicely and make believe that he didn’t stutter. But then, when she unsheathed her blade, he was stumbling over his tongue like a blind man on rocks.

‘I m-mean, well, you know I hate the shit, d-despise him. I m-mean, I’m really g-glad we’ve got this far . . .’

‘Got cold feet eh, Stray?’

‘I dunno, I c-can’t . . .’

He tried to hold his own and look her in the eye. Blue eyes, clear and lucid, they sat in her face like jewels in a battered casket. Yes, Mouse was showing signs of wear and tear. Worry lines
and the beginnings of a double chin. Suddenly, Jerry began to feel horny and he thought that it wasn’t such a bad idea.

‘So what is it then, M-Mouse? What is it that m-makes you so – v-vindictive? It’s l-like you want to get your own b-back m-more than me.’

Jerry eased in close and rested his hand on the dome of her belly.

‘I don’t think you’d understand.’

‘C-Come on, I’ve t-told you stuff about me.’

Jerry began to edge his hand down her belly. Like always, it was exciting and Mouse didn’t seem to mind.

‘A lot of people say I’ve got a chip on my shoulder, a mean streak or whatever. I usually say back to them that it’s hardly surprising given the shit that’s
around.’

Jerry moved his hand down to her legs, the bad guy and the crappy van fast disappearing from his thoughts.

‘I don’t understand it myself, cept I feel some sort of fear and want to kick out all the time. There’s this image I keep seeing, a darkened room and a tall dark shadow coming
towards me. I don’t know who or when or what but I know that shadow means pain.’

As Jerry’s hand began to move between her legs, Mouse suddenly grabbed it.

‘Don’t do that!’ Her eyes narrowed and she began to bend his fingers back.

‘M-Mouse, I w-was only – ow!’

‘Shall we try and sort out what to do?’

‘OK, OK.’

Mouse let go.

‘Why d-don’t we just leave him, d-dump him by the road? That could be g-good, with a n-note to the p-police saying he’s a murderer. It’d b-be enough for me. We’ll
have m-made our point.’

‘You’re just trying to justify doing nothing.’

‘So what the b-bloody hell d-do you want to do?’

Mouse stared out into the darkness. Jerry thought she seemed different: not so concerned about him, wrapped up in herself. This was worrying. He didn’t know where he was. He was totally
dependent on her. Mouse relit her spliff.

‘I’ve just realized, we’ve got that shitty guy back there and we can do whatever we want.’

‘Yeh?’

‘Think of the power of it, Stray. We’re not the victims.’

Jerry looked out at the night with its restless wind and emptiness. He couldn’t think of anything except that he was trapped. He then heard a little sob from Mouse and saw that her eyes
were wet.

‘I was just thinking of all the millions of animals that have been killed out here, in the country, all those dumb victims we’re not supposed to feel anything for.’

‘Oh no, M-Mouse, d-don’t – don’t let it g-get to you.’

‘I guess you’re right. You can’t think about it, can you? It’s impossible to absorb. You have to be hard.’

‘Or just l-let it g-go.’

‘No, I think there is something, something I can try to do.’

Mouse pulled out the gun and shuffled on her knees into the back of the van. The sack was wrenched from Ross’s face and his cold eyes blinked.

‘Hello, fucker,’ she said, giggling and then wobbling her breasts in his face. She showed him the gun. Ross began to move. He writhed in a taut kind of way and there was a muffled
sound from his mouth. Mouse pointed the gun straight between his eyes. Jerry winced and shut his. He waited, but nothing happened.

‘Look at him, Stray. He’s nothing now, just a useless shit.’

‘A m-murdering shit.’

‘And a pile of other bad things, no doubt.’

Jerry kicked Ross’s leg and then wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to encourage Mouse.

‘I used to have this fantasy once about the Prime Minister. It sounds daft I know, but I imagined I was part of this underground group who managed to take him hostage. We didn’t want
any money. We just wanted revenge for all the nastiness inflicted by the state. So I’d imagine ways to abuse, demean and torture the bastard.’

‘Yeh, well those s-sort, they’re un-t-touchable, like that rich p-prick who started all this.’

‘It’s feeling helpless and wanting to hit back.’ Mouse looked over at Jerry. ‘But we’re not helpless now, are we?’

‘C-Come on, M-Mouse, let’s –’

‘I think we need some kind of ceremony. A ritual or something, you know, to celebrate what we’ve got here and see what comes out.’

‘I w-want a j-joint.’

‘Roll one then and I’ll see what else I can find.’

Mouse shuffled back to the cab and Jerry remained, fumbling for his rolling gear. Ross was looking at him. Sweat glistened around his eyes and it seemed as if he was appealing to Jerry’s
masculine nature. Well, he wasn’t going to have any of that. Ross was disgusting. Ross screwed Mary and then had her killed. Jerry’d be glad to see the back of him. He could hardly feel
an inch of sympathy. Mouse came back.

‘This is all I could find.’ She was carrying a couple of cans of engine oil, a bag of crisps and the gun. ‘What’s that stuff they shove in your mouth in
church?’

‘Eh?’

‘Never mind . . .’

Mouse moved across the mattress. She kneeled down between the bad guy’s splayed legs and took her leggings down. Jerry found himself staring at her bare bum, pumpkin bum. She then took off
her T-shirt and flaunted herself at Ross.