Wanted (Flick Carter Book 1) (27 page)

‘So they have a tracker, that’s very interesting. Let’s follow them and see where they go.’ Dixon turned to the driver. ‘Follow that posse, but keep a discreet distance.’

The truck moved slowly off, with the people in the back craning forward over the shoulders of those in front, in order to see out through the windscreen.

‘Get up close to them at the gate; I want them to feel intimidated,’ Dixon ordered. ‘They’re going to feel like it’s a race, except we know where we’re going and they don’t. Also, it’ll stop them beating the guards on the gate for letting Felicity past.’

The dog spent a long time sniffing around the guard post before deciding that the trail went through the gate. Adam could see the mayor shouting at the two Watchmen, who just stared back blankly. When he raised his riding crop as if to strike, Dixon slammed her fist down. ‘Enough of this!’ She popped the hatch on the roof of the truck and stuck her head out.

‘Get out of my road!’ she shouted. ‘We’re about the king’s business and you’re holding us up! Leave those men alone and be on your way!’

The mayor snarled at her, ‘Next time, Kingsman.’ He turned his horse and rode off after the dog and its handler. The herd of thugs followed in his wake, jeering and shouting.

The truck rolled up to the checkpoint, and dropped the rear ramp.

‘Carter and you two with me,’ she said, indicating the two Watch corporals, ‘Socko and Barnes, get your kit, we’ll drop you off here. Get the locals on-side and take all the help you can get. I don’t know how many of Griffin’s men are still around, but assume there are hostiles.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ they chorused, and set to.

They disembarked from the truck, and the lieutenant went around the side to talk to the two guards.

‘I’m sure you know who we’re looking for,’ Dixon said.

Stanley stepped forward. ‘Thank you for your intervention with the mayor just then, but I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said.

‘Felicity Carter, escaped from the jail in the night, believed to have fled the town and come this way.’

‘Nope. Can’t say the name rings a bell. Ain’t been nobody out through these gates all night, excepting the mayor just before you.’

Adam came out from behind the truck, followed by the two Watch corporals. ‘Stanley, it’s me: Adam,’ he said.

‘Adam Carter? Is that you?’ Stanley replied, squinting. ‘Thought you was disappeared.’

‘Look, we know Flick didn’t do it. And we know about Joe,’ Adam said.

Stanley glanced at corporal Ross. ‘Corp?’

He nodded. ‘Griffin murdered Joe. We saw it with our own eyes.’

Stanley staggered back as if he’d been physically struck. ‘The sick bastard,’ he muttered. ‘Okay. Yeah she came through this way. We gave her a bite and a change of clothing and she left. Oh, and a pushbike. Griffin thinks she’s on foot, but she’s going a lot faster than they think.’

‘Thank you, Constable Wilder. Now, what time would you say she left here?’

‘Well, she got here, what, about a quarter to one, and left, what would you say, around two?’ He looked questioningly at his colleague, who nodded.

‘Thank you, that’s been most helpful,’ Dixon said. ‘Now I’m going to leave two of my men here; they’re going to try and find out what really happened. See to it they get whatever help they need, would you?’

‘Tell Captain Marley I said I’ll vouch for ‘em,’ Corporal Ross chimed in.

‘Will do, ma’am,’ said Stanley, saluting, ‘and I hope you find her before that bastard does.’

‘So do I, constable, so do I.’

The four who were not staying re-boarded the truck, and they set off through the gate.

‘Which way did they go? I hope someone was paying attention!’ Dixon called out.

‘They’ve just reached the main road. Looks like they’re turning right, towards Swindon…’

‘Swindon? I really hope she’s not going there!’ She looked at Adam.

Adam shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. There’s a lane on the left about a mile on, leads straight to the ridge. My bet is she went that way.’

‘Is there another route to get to this cottage of yours? I don’t really want to rush past them–it’ll give the game away that we know where we’re going. And this thing leaves a trail a mile wide!’

‘Yes, ma’am. If we go back the other way, there’s another turning. It’s quite a bit further, but it’ll take us there.’

‘That’s no problem; we can travel much faster than they can.’ She addressed the driver, ‘Keep them in sight, but don’t get real close. Once we’re sure they’ve taken Carter’s left turn, double back and we’ll take this other road. Carter knows the way…’

WHEN FLICK WOKE up, it was already light and the sun was well up in the sky. She’d still had the nightmares–images of her father and Rosie burning in the inn–but nevertheless she felt more rested than she had in days. She shifted uncomfortably on the cold ground, her aching muscles screaming with every movement. The bare earthen floor in the cottage might be softer than the cold flag stones of her cell, but it didn’t compare with a soft bed.

She pulled the bag over to her and had a look inside. There was bread and cheese and cold meat wrapped in wax paper, apples, a full water bottle, several knives, and a bundle of six fully made arrows. No wonder the bag had been heavy! It looked as if Joe had gone to her workshop and grabbed whatever he could find. She munched on the bread and some of the cheese while she examined the contents of the bag.

She pulled out the arrows and turned them over in her hand, feeling the balance. The threads tying on the fletchings formed coloured bands; blue, yellow, red, yellow. These were Rosie’s colours. She’d made the arrows up for her in the early spring, but they’d never gone hunting together with them, and now they never would. Memories of Rosie came flooding back, and a tear splashed the back of her hand, making a tiny clean spot.

The jail!

Shit!
By now they must have discovered that she was missing, and be out looking for her. They wouldn’t know which way she’d gone, so that might give her some time. But what if they had dogs? Did Griffin have dogs? Dogs were still very rare after The Collapse, when most had died along with their owners or been killed for food. But had she heard barking at the big house? She couldn’t remember. But knowing Mayor Griffin, they would as likely be attack dogs as tracker dogs; more likely probably, but still best to assume the worst. They would find her scent and come straight here. But she was on a bike; could dogs still track someone on a bike? She didn’t know. Best to assume they could.
 

So, best case? They were looking in the wrong direction. Worst case? They would be here any minute. At least they would be on foot, and she had the advantage of a bike.

She needed to be gone from here quickly, so she repacked the bag, and went to the loose panel where her bow was hidden. She pulled back the panel and the bow was there, just where she’d left it, but there was also a scrap of paper attached to it. She pulled it off and read it.

Remember where I told you to go?

I will find you.

S.

It must be a message from Shea. That meant he had been here. How long ago, she wondered, and which way did he go? She recalled the conversation they’d had that time, when he’d talked about his life in Bristol. He’d said it would be safe there, so that’s where she must go. The only trouble was, she didn’t know how to get there.

West! She remembered it was west. Well, the railway went west, so she would follow the tracks. Flick tied the bag and the bow onto her bike, and had a last look around to make sure she hadn’t left anything, and then she went.
 

She worked her way through the woodland along the base of the ridge, picking up speed as the trees opened up to a narrow track, and when a second track split off to the right, she took it, and was soon racing along between wide hedgerows. So far she had not seen or heard anyone.

The disused railway was at the top of a steep embankment, covered in bushes and brambles, but by working her way along, she was able to find a lower section that didn’t require her to climb up it or get even more scratched.

She knew there had originally been two tracks on this section of the railway, bedded onto ballast. They had long gone of course, scavenged for the steel, but the track bed was still there, overgrown, but used as a thoroughfare by people that wanted to stay away from the roads.

A few miles along the track, it dawned on her that this was too easy. She had made good progress, but the track was pretty flat and almost straight, allowing any pursuers to see her from a long way back, and also make good progress themselves. At the same time that she was having this thought, she saw something that made her blood run cold: smoke, up ahead on the track. And it was coming towards her.

Shit!

Flick stopped dead in her tracks. With dense brambles either side and no way off the railway line, she was as stuck as a fish in a barrel. They hadn’t spotted her yet, but it was only a matter of time… minutes, or even less. She looked up and down the track, and then she spotted it, a small gap near the ground, barely big enough to crawl into, but big enough to hide in… if she didn’t have the bike. All she could do with the bike was push it as far under the bushes as it would go and cover it with as many leaves and branches as she could in the few seconds available, and hope that it didn’t get spotted. With the bike hidden as best she could manage, she backed herself into the gap in the brambles and crouched down to wait.

She heard it before she saw it from her hiding place, clanking and chuffing like a great metal monster. It crawled along not much faster than walking pace, trampling the buddleia and rosebay willowherb that grew in the gravel as if it were no more substantial than grass. Black smoke belched from a tall stove pipe at the front, and jets of steam escaped in all directions from bits of pipework. As it drew level, Flick could see it for what it was; a traction engine, small wheels at the front and two massive tracked wheels behind. Two big men in black, oily overalls stood at the back, one steering, the other ready to stoke the fire. Now Flick saw that it was pulling a low four-wheeled flat bed trailer, with two young lads sitting on it.

‘It was around here somewhere, I’m sure of it,’ the stoker shouted.

‘You sure? I don’t see nothing,’ the other shouted back.

‘Yeah. Sun glinted off it, like it was metal. Could be a bike or something.’

‘I reckon you’re imagining it,’ the driver shouted. ‘Get one of the lads to poke about if you want, but I’m not stopping; we’ve stopped four times already today!’

The stoker turned to the lads on the trailer. ‘One of you hop down and have a poke around. I’m sure there’s something here.’

The two lads looked at each other and shrugged. After a moment one of them muttered sullenly, ‘All right, I’ll do it,’ and jumped down. He kicked vaguely at the weeds as he walked around. Then he saw the pile of twigs that Flick had heaped over her bike.

‘Oh hang on, there might be something here… looks like someone was trying to hide it…’

Flick shrank back as he bent down to pull the branches away. Her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen as the branch came away to reveal the bicycle underneath. He reached for it and started tugging. Flick didn’t know what to do; that was her life line, without that bike her pursuers would be sure to catch her. She did the only thing she could think of doing, and grabbed the wheel and pulled.

The lad let go of the bike in surprise, and fell over backwards with a yelp.

The second lad, still on the trailer looked around and called out, ‘What is it? Jed? Where are you?’

Jed picked himself up onto his knees and grabbed for the bike once more. That’s when he saw Flick hiding in the brambles. She had her knife in one hand and was clutching onto the bike with the other.

‘Leave it,’ she growled.

Jed blinked. Clearly a bike that fought back with a girl hidden in the bushes was beyond his experience, and he just knelt there staring at Flick, unmoving for several seconds.

‘Buzz off!’ she hissed, waving the knife. ‘Go!’

Jed let go of the bike and stood up. His mouth was working, but no sounds came out. Eventually he seemed to make up his mind, and turned and ran back to the trailer, which was heading off along the trackway.

‘What was that about?’ the second lad called.

‘I saw a bike, but the girl in the bushes wouldn’t let go of it,’ Jed answered.

‘Yeah, right. You’re worse than Bert, always seeing things that aren’t there!’

Flick watched and waited as the engine and its crew clanked and wheezed and bickered into the distance.

Thirty minutes after the mayor’s gang started down the lane, the truck rolled up and stopped a hundred metres short of the derelict cottage. The back opened and the Kingsmen spilled out.

‘Now listen up,’ Dixon said. ‘We’re going to surround the cottage and move in quietly. We don’t know if she’s still inside or nearby, and we don’t want to spook her. Carter, you’ll call out to her when we’re in position; she should respond better to your voice. Anderson, you’ll be lookout in case the mayor’s men show up. Get somewhere high. We’ve probably got two hours, tops if they come straight here. Young, get up onto the top of the ridge, see if you can see any movement from up there.’

They all raised a fist in silent acknowledgment, and the squad crept towards the house. Once they were in position, Dixon signalled to Adam.

‘Flick! You in there? It’s me, Adam!’

There was no response. Dixon whispered something to Adam and he nodded.

‘Flick, I’m coming in, real slow. It’s just me; if you’re in there, don’t do anything stupid!’

Again there was silence.

‘You sure you want to do this, cadet?’ Dixon asked.

Adam nodded. ‘Yes ma’am, I should be the first person she sees.’

‘Ok, good luck.’

Adam crept up to the wall of the building, and edged along to the door opening. He called one last time, ‘Flick, I’m coming in.’ He waited a moment before going through the door.