Wanted (Flick Carter Book 1) (15 page)

‘I’ve never seen the sea,’ said Flick, changing the subject, ‘what’s it like?’

‘It’s like a big pond,’ Shea replied, glad that he was now on safe territory. ‘But so big you can’t see the edges, and the land that we’re standing on is just an island in the middle of it, and it’s so deep that you can’t touch the bottom, and when the weather is bad, the waves get so big, crashing on the beach and it’s really scary. And there are tides. Every day the water goes away, like when you pull the plug out of a bath, and then later it comes back again. I don’t know why.

‘Where I live, in Bristol, there’s a big river, and there’s boats. Not little boats like on the river here, but big boats with massive sails, and they go off down the river to the sea and they don’t come back for weeks and weeks. Most of them are Scav boats, but there are Kingsmen boats there too. There’s a sort of truce, so they don’t bother us and we don’t bother them.’

They were silent. Flick took the stone knife she’d been holding and slipped it back into her belt.

‘Look, just one thing,’ Shea said after a while. His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper, ‘I’ve told you stuff. Secrets. Things people might want to hurt you for. I’m not saying they will, but… Well, if anything happens to me, I want you to run. Head for Bristol, you will be safe there. I can give you names, addresses…’

‘I’m not entirely sure I believe you,’ she said, ‘but I’ll keep it in mind.’ She stared at him intently for a moment, weighing up what he’d said.

‘It’s late and I’d better go to bed. I
think
you could be telling the truth, but I need to sleep on it.’

She stood up. ‘I’ll let you out, but stay hidden; there are people around that will talk…’ She seemed to think for a moment. ‘I’ll get you some food from the kitchen. I can’t let you stay here, cos there are too many people and we’re full; somebody will see you. Do you need blankets? I don’t think it’ll rain, but it might get quite chilly.’

‘No, I’ve got everything I need, thanks. But I’ll take whatever food you can spare, and thank you for it.’

‘Okay, wait here.’ Flick disappeared into the inn and returned a few moments later with a basket, covered by a white cloth.

‘There’s some cold meat in the basket,’ she said, ‘and some cheese and a few carrots. Should tide you over for a day or two.’

She handed him the basket and opened the wicket gate as quietly as she could.

‘Coast is clear,’ she whispered after peering out and looking around. She beckoned him forward, and as he was about to go through the wicket gate, she pulled him to her and, to his surprise, kissed him on the cheek.

‘For luck,’ she said, embarrassment colouring her voice. ‘Now, off you go.’

‘Don’t forget: Bristol,’ he whispered as he disappeared into the night.

FLICK WOKE TO the sound of banging on her bedroom door.

‘Flick, come out here this instant!’ It was her father.

She slipped out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown before cracking open the door.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Griffin is downstairs with his goons. He’s throwing a random inspection, I’m surprised the noise didn’t wake you…’

‘Late night,’ Flick said, simply.

Nick Carter turned on his daughter. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been up to, my girl, but if I find out this “random” inspection has anything to do with you, there’ll be hell to pay. Now, get some clothes on and get downstairs. Pronto.’

He stomped off down the hallway. Flick closed the door and leant back against it.

Shit!

Did this have anything to do with Shea? What if somebody had seen him? Maggs maybe? No, surely Maggs would never grass, no matter what she saw, and after all, they’d grown up together. Anyhow, Flick thought her ruse with Rosie last night had worked and Maggs was none the wiser.

She’d just finished dressing when the door burst open. A heavy set man in dark leathers walked in. He had a wooden persuader in one hand, and a metal bladed knife was obvious in his belt.

‘Got orders to search this room,’ he said. ‘You, don’t move.’

He waved the baton in Flick’s direction.

‘Okay… not moving,’ Flick said.

He looked round the room, and under the bed and opened the cupboards and wardrobe, but he didn’t bother to open any drawers or rummage through the stuff. It was as if he were looking for some
one
rather than some
thing
.

Finally he turned to Flick. ‘Boss wants everyone downstairs. You go now.’

He pushed her through the door and down the hallway.

Everyone was gathered in the front bar, and Flick rushed over to Rosie, who gave her a hug.

‘What’s happening?’ Rosie asked.

‘Griffin is just throwing his weight around. He’ll be gone soon,’ Flick replied, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

Some of the guests were grumbling. ‘We demand that you let us go this instant!’ one of them shouted. ‘They forced us out of our beds!’ from another. ‘You can’t treat us like this; we’ve got rights! We’re not criminals!’ a third joined in.

The thugs, positioned by each door just ignored them.

One of the guests, an elderly woman with grey hair and a green fabric dress, snapped. ‘I’ve had enough of this, I will not be treated this way! I’m going to my room!’ She stomped off towards the staircase.

The thug nearest moved to intercept her and blocked the stairway. ‘You ain’t going nowhere,’ he growled.

‘Out of my way, you oaf!’ the woman shouted. She tried to push him to one side but he was much bigger than her and didn’t budge.

‘You ain’t going nowhere,’ he repeated.

She pushed at him and pummelled and pounded, but nothing she did had the slightest impact. Eventually she gave up and went over to a table and sat down.

Flick went over to her. ‘Mrs Bickerstaff isn’t it?’ she said.

The woman nodded.

Flick took her hands. ‘I’m so, so, sorry,’ she said. ‘We get inspected every now and then–everyone does–but usually it’s just a quick look and a chat. I really don’t know what’s got into them. We’re as taken aback by this as you are.’

The woman pulled out a hankie from somewhere among her sleeves. ‘Thank you, my dear,’ she sniffed, and blew her nose.

‘What you need is a nice cup of tea,’ Flick said. ‘I’ll see if they’ll let me go and make some.’

She went over to the thug barring the way down to the kitchen. There was something very familiar about this one, and she looked him up and down until he started fidgeting. ‘Ronald Welch, you scumbag’ she said. ‘Only yesterday you were standing next to my brother on the Choosing field, and now–Look at you!’

‘Yeah, well I works for Mayor Griffin now, and what he says goes, and he says you ain’t going nowhere, and we can do what we wants to stop you.’

‘We’d just like to go to the kitchen and make a pot of tea for everyone,’ Flick said, keeping her voice as reasonable as she could. ‘It’s not as if we’re going to go anywhere…’

‘Boss said no one was to go anywhere,’ Ronald Welch, the newly minted thug said, as unmoving in his message as in his position.

‘Look, it’s just tea, and we’ll only be in the kitchen. I’ll leave the door open. I’ll even make you some…? Real tea?’ she said.

‘No.’

Flick turned back into the room and shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed at the room in general, and Mrs Bickerstaff in particular. Then she found Rosie and sat at the table next to her.

‘Bad is as bad does, I guess. Never did like that boy,’ she said.

Then she addressed the room. ‘I’m sure this will all be sorted out, but in the meantime, please be patient. Look, I’m stuck here just as much as all of you.’

‘Stuck? Who’s stuck? I’m sure nobody’s stuck anywhere.’ This was a new voice, oily and slippery as a snake. It was Mayor Griffin, descending the stairs from the back dining room, with Flick’s father following and looking none too happy.

‘Now Felicity, my dear,’ he continued, ‘instead of moaning at the guests, why don’t you go down to the kitchen and make everybody a nice cup of tea? I’m sure everyone is dying for one…’

‘Come on Rosie, let’s go.’ Flick grabbed Rosie’s hand and made her way towards the kitchen, her eyes shooting daggers at the mayor. As she passed Ronald Welch, a well-aimed toe made contact with his shin. He winced.

‘See: tea. You don’t get any,’ she hissed.

She stomped down the stairs, half dragging Rosie, and slammed the door behind her. For several seconds she didn’t move. ‘Deep breaths,’ she muttered.

‘If looks could kill, half the room would be dead!’ giggled Rosie.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t care if Joe is his son, that man is just nasty.’

‘We’ll always have each other,’ said Rosie. ‘Come on, give us a hug.’
 

They hugged each other, and Flick stroked Rosie’s long blonde hair.

‘You and me, eh?’ she said.

After a few moments they broke apart. ‘Let’s get the water on the hob; the tea’s not going to make itself!’

The two girls busied themselves with setting out cups and saucers on trays, and pots for the tea and jugs for the milk while the water boiled. Then, once the tea was made and poured out, they ferried the trays up to the front bar. Finally when it was all done, Flick came back into the kitchen, shut the door and sat down at the table. Elbows on the table and head in her hands, she let out a long sigh. Well, that was over.

She heard the door open and shut.

‘Well RoRo, I think there’s just enough left in the pot for you and me,’ she said.

‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Felicity.’ It wasn’t Rosie. A cold shiver ran through Flick’s body.

She turned to face him. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mayor Griffin.’

‘Oh, we will find him, you can be sure of that.’ The mayor walked slowly down the steps into the room.

‘Find who?’

‘Come now girl, don’t play the innocent; I can see right through you,’ he said. ‘I know what you’ve been up to. I know about the cottage, and the wreckage. I even know about the radio that was in your room.’

Flick started. ‘I don’t know…’

The mayor held up a hand. ‘Don’t bother to protest, it’s not there now. Thanks to your brother it’s now locked in my safe.’ He paused for effect. Flick slumped back in her chair.

 
‘And I also know about the festival. Half the town saw you and him making eyes at each other; it was disgusting. And to think I was going to let you marry my son, good-for-nothing that he is. Well let me tell you now, that isn’t going to happen.’

Flick opened her mouth. She wanted to scream, to cry out, her father would come running and see off this horrid man and everything would be all right, but nothing came out.

Mayor Griffin grinned, a nasty vicious grin that had no humour in it. ‘Don’t scream, Felicity,’ he said, with all the calm of an oil slick, ‘no one will come. My henchmen will see to that. You’ve met my henchmen. One of them has a sore shin, and he’s very keen to be remembered to you, but I told him “another time”. Nobody is coming through that door.’

He crossed the remaining distance between them with a speed so fast that Flick barely registered what was happening. He grabbed her and pulled her up out of the chair, holding her so that her face was right up close to his.

‘Where is he?’ he hissed. His eyes were blazing fire.

Flick stammered in shock, ‘Look, I don’t know. Really. I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!’

The mayor stared into her eyes, long and hard. After a while he dropped her back into the chair.

‘Of course you don’t.’

He pulled up a chair and sat down at the table opposite her.

‘Fine, we’ll do it another way,’ he said. ‘Now you tell me where he is, Or so help me…’ he spoke in measured, quiet tones, ‘…I’ll make it hard for you. And your sister.’

Flick hunched over the table and hid her face in her hands. There were tears in her eyes.

Mayor Griffin spoke with a slow and quiet menace. ‘You will arrange to meet with him. It doesn’t matter where, it doesn’t matter when. And once you have made that arrangement, you will come and tell me. And then he and I can have a nice little chat, man to man. Civilised. I even promise that I won’t harm him. Do you agree to do this?’

Flick said nothing. She didn’t even look up.

‘Look at me. Do you agree?’

Flick looked up, her face blank. She didn’t care what the mayor did to her. But Rosie? Nothing and no one was more important than Rosie. She nodded.

‘Good.’ The mayor rose to leave.

‘But what’s he supposed to have done?’ Flick asked, in desperation. ‘He’s just a Scav. He told me: he’s just a Scav.’

The mayor walked up the stairs and pushed the door open. As he was about to go through, he turned and said, ‘Oh, that’s not the half of it. He’s much more than that, my dear, much more.’ Then he was gone.

ALL THAT DAY Flick was subdued. She kept pondering the mayor’s words. What did he mean,
much more?
And a trap? She must set a trap? Lure Shea into it and the mayor would… what? Have a nice little chat? No. This was a man who had enough thugs to form his own private army, a man who had people executed and forced the entire town to stand and watch. He’d told Flick that he wouldn’t hurt Shea; he’d
promised
, but somehow Flick knew that was a promise he wouldn’t keep.

But also, he wouldn’t go away, she was sure of that. He’d
threatened
her! Well, not in so many words, but the threat was there, and Rosie too. If anything happened to Rosie… It would be too much. No, whatever he did to her, that was one thing, but she couldn’t let anything happen to Rosie, no matter what.

Her mind was made up.

Two nights later, Flick was serving in the bar. She was carrying two handfuls of beers to one of the tables when the front door opened. She glanced across to see who it was; she was still wary after Mayor Griffin’s little visit. It was the vicar, Frank Bumpenny, wearing a pale blue knitted jumper, his dog collar and black shirt still visible beneath, and a straw hat with a large black ribbon.

‘Take a seat, Reverend,’ Flick called, ‘I’ll be with you in a mo!’