Betrayed Page 9

  ‘Follow him,’ Nate said, even as Toni was already starting the engine.

  The guy took some streets and the bike cut through the traffic easily, slipping between the lanes like a good queue jumper. But he kept his speed low, so they somehow managed to keep him in sight, or enter turns he took before he could vanish at the other end.

  They drove in silence for a few miles, some ten minutes, and then Toni said,

  ‘Hey, back in the van you looked horrified when I mentioned your parents. What’s the score there? They know what’s happened?’

  ‘Let’s talk about your parents instead, eh?’ he snapped. ‘Where are they, Turkey? You’re Turkish, right?’

  ‘Okay, we’ll talk about them. I don’t have any parents. I never knew my dad and my mum kicked me out for my own good. But, yes, they’re probably still over in Turkey. Good guess. There, done. Now you.’

  Said with sincerity, not a joke. Nate looked at her and saw what might have been genuine concern on her face. It didn’t sit well with the woman he knew. He didn’t want to open up to her. But he felt he had to give her something. So all he said was, ‘My dad’s gone, too, when I was kid. It’s just Mum, and I don’t know how she’s reacting to all this. My brother might be a charred body, so I imagine not well.’

  ‘Shit,’ she said, and he tensed, but then he saw she was looking ahead, and he looked ahead, too, and the biker was gone. Any sense of lost hope was smothered by gratitude that he could shift his mind away from his mother.

  Then they passed a side street and she pointed. ‘There.’

  The guy was parked in a bus stop lay-by just past a school down that side street. There wasn’t much traffic around, although the noise of children rioting in the playground was almost deafening.

  Nate pulled into the side of the road a short way past the biker, parking between two cars outside a mini-mart. The biker was sixty metres back, just sitting on his bike.

  Nate pulled out his knuckleduster. Toni put her hand on his and opened his fingers with hers, then slid the weapon off and dropped it into the footwell. ‘This how soldiers do things, is it?’ she said. ‘Shoot first, then think, “Damn, maybe I should have asked a question”?’

  She got out of the van and started walking back towards the bike guy, who was now kneeling before the machine, seemingly checking out the front suspension.

  Nate exited and rushed across the road. He had to assume this guy might know who he was, so he would use caution. He kept pace with Toni, but did not watch her or the biker. He kept his head down, pretending to fiddle with the zip on his fleece. He was also thinking about the other people around, any one of which might have his face fresh in their mind.

  He saw the biker look up as Toni stopped by the bike and stroked the seat. He stood, and they faced each other over it. Nate crossed the road and stopped at the bus stop, four metres away. He was prepared for the guy to suddenly kick off.

  He heard Toni say, ‘–if you can afford such things, sure. Hey, look, I’m a friend of the guy you fixed up a white van for.’

  The guy stiffened, but didn’t kick off. He didn’t run, and he didn’t pull a weapon. He simply said, ‘Hey, that van was a sack of balls. Best I could do. If there’s a problem–’

  She held up a hand. ‘It’s okay, it’s not a complaint. The van’s fine. But the radio’s locked. We just need the code.’

  The guy scratched his head. And looked round, right at Nate. Their eyes met just long enough for Nate to realise he’d blown it. The guy had suspected she might have backup, and he’d searched for it, and Nate had been staring right at him. Nate started to approach, but slowly.

  The guy turned back to Toni.

  ‘I don’t know the code, lady. I had the van three days. I fixed up all manner of faults with that thing, and I didn’t touch the radio. That was the least of my worries. I specialise in bikes, you know? They don’t have radios.’

  Nate took a neutral position behind Toni, leaning against a wall. The guy ignored him. Up close, Nate could see he was quite well built, early thirties despite the bald head, and figured he was probably good with his fists. Nate hoped fists never played a part here.

  ‘Would Lazar know the code?’ Toni said.

  ‘Who? I don’t know any Lazar.’

  ‘Didn’t Lazar ask you to fix up the van for us?’

  ‘I don’t know this Lazar chap. It was a mate called Alfie. He told me there was a van he bought. I collected it from a junkyard. And I didn’t bother checking the radio.’

  ‘I think my friend mentioned an Alfie,’ she lied. ‘Would Alfie know the code?’

  ‘Sod knows. I’d go see the junkyard people. Previous owner must have handed some paperwork over. Code might be in there.’

  She took a breath, and Nate knew why. So far, just general chat, a few inane questions. But if she now asked where Alfie was, it could spook the guy. And if he didn’t get suspicious, then he might simply want to protect Alfie’s privacy. But they were not leaving this area without a new path to investigate.

  ‘I’ll go ask Alfie. Where is he now?’

  But in the end, no worries. The guy said, ‘Probably at work. The track in Joyce Green.’

  ‘What track?’

  In the end, sweetness and light. The guy had no suspicions at all. He gave up the address without concern. To keep him sweet, Toni asked if he had a card, in case she needed a bike fixing. He didn’t, but reeled off his number and business name, and she mouthed the words back as if pretending to commit them to memory.

  A minute later he was gone. Toni waved him away, and he blew his horn. She said nothing to Nate and headed back to the van. He followed like a loyal dog.

  Inside, he said, ‘Do you know this Alfie, then?’

  ‘No. Never heard that name. But I don’t know everyone Damar knows.’

  ‘Knew,’ Nate said, and regretted it half a second later.

  But she didn’t seem angered. ‘Knew,’ she whispered.

  ‘So, we go talk to this guy?’ Nate said quickly, wanting to get off the subject of Damar.

  ‘Yes. But calm down. The last two guys haven’t been in the loop, so they were just answering general questions. Alfie’s higher up the ladder, and if he knows something, he might not be so willing to share information. So now you can have your toy back, because you might need it.’

  She picked up his knuckleduster and dropped it into his lap.

  ‘Remember, I’m trying to clear my name here. So if there’s violence, it’s to be a last resort. Right?’

  She didn’t look at him. ‘I don’t remember agreeing to that.’

  It was called Spanner Farm, but it wasn’t a farm. Go east, Dartford, border of Kent and Greater London, turn north off Bob Dunn Way at the Littlebrook Interchange. Keep left and you can’t miss it. If you do, you’ll end up in the Dartford Tunnel probably.

  They did miss it at first, but didn’t end up in the tunnel. They got the left, followed a curving road past some giant warehouse on their right. The farm was on the left, just past. They blew right past because the entrance, a farm gate in a hedge, looked like it led to cows and tractors. Strangely, the sign for the farm was fifty metres later, telling you it was back the way you’d just come.

  Despite the fact that it was an old wooden gate, it opened automatically as they turned towards it. Beyond, a track between more hedges, which opened out onto a new car park beside an old building in stone and wood. Beyond the building was another, in stone, split into rented cottages. For the serious bikers. Nate couldn’t see anything for the serious bikers’ wives and girlfriends. Maybe bikers as serious as this didn’t bother with them, or only hooked up with fellow enthusiasts.

  The main building had a small extension of new brick, with a glass door and a bright sign made to look like graffiti: ‘Big Air’. They could hear bike engines screaming.

  A shuttered opening to one side of the extension allowed them to see inside. There was a large oval track that rose and dipped like dirt waves, and was lined
with stacked tyres painted green and big bags of dirt. Bright spotlights in the rafters lit everything adequately. A few bikes were tearing round, getting Big Air, sliding round corners, throwing up dirt. Nate had to admit it looked like fun, even indoors.

  A central area of flat dirt was host to a bunch of short people in yellow leathers and helmets, each standing next to a tiny dirt bike and watching a guy in red leathers with the top half hanging loose round his waist to expose a T-shirt. He was pacing before them, waving his hands, making gestures. Looked like he was lecturing kids.

  ‘Think that’s Alfie?’ Nate said.

  ‘Let’s find out,’ Toni said.

  They got out.

  Toni walked towards the glass door in the extension, and pushed through. Nate was two seconds behind.

  It was a reception. A couple of chairs against a wall, a counter with a girl behind it. The counter held a till and some magazines for sale, and a rack of keyrings. The walls had biking posters, a large calendar with events printed on certain days, and some biker gear for sale. Nate’s eyes scanned the walls. And locked onto a framed picture, centre stage on the wall behind the girl, perfectly placed to be unmissable.

  The girl was young, had a nose ring and short spiky hair that didn’t quite gel with her pretty face. Nate’s immediate thought: just the sort of tomboy who’d make a good biker’s partner, or liked to ride herself. She looked tough, like she’d take no shit, but her smile was all welcoming. Good at her job, or wholly respectful of anyone who shared her passion.

  He stared at the picture behind her. Some guy backgrounded by a racetrack. Not this one. Outdoors, much bigger, with people in the stands. He was on a winners’ podium with his bike, standing next to it. Full biker gear, helmet in one hand, a silver trophy in the other. Smiling.

  ‘Can I help?’ the tomboy said. Her accent was Welsh.

  The rider’s leathers were loaded with sponsor motifs.

  ‘Yes,’ said Toni.

  On the bike’s handguards: two evil-looking yellow dragon eyes. A fiery, forked tongue ran along the front mudguard.

  ‘No,’ said Nate. ‘Let’s go.’

  He turned and left, just like that. Outside, he waited. As Toni exited, he heard the tomboy giggle. Some insult about him offloaded by Toni, he figured. Didn’t care. Dragon eyes.

  ‘What the hell was that all about?’ Toni said. ‘You know how rude you looked?’

  He walked to the van, ignoring her.

  She got in next to him. ‘You want to explain?’

  He didn’t speak. He just handed her her phone.

  ‘Now what?’ she said.

  ‘Hospitals. Only ones with A&E. Find them.’

  This time she didn’t doubt that he might have a valid idea about how to progress their hunt. Maybe it was his tone, or the look in his eyes. Whatever, she got down to Internet surfing and came up with a list – a long one. He took the phone back and she watched as he dialled a number. As he spoke:

  ‘Hi, yes, I have a friend who was in a bike accident last night. Alfie.’ He gave a location, and waited. ‘I understand that, but…’

  He hung up. Started dialling again. Toni snatched the phone from him and threw it in his lap. She looked annoyed. But without speaking, she left the van and went back inside the building. She was out in sixty seconds, back in the van within another twenty.

  She gave him the name of a hospital. ‘Alfie’s the assistant manager. Should have been here today, but last night he was out somewhere and tried to jump two vans on his bike and the front wheel came off. Busted hip and right leg. He’s got his own room on the Sunningdale Ward. If you wanted to search for Alfie, see how easy my way was?’

  He understood. She must have simply engaged the receptionist in conversation. Maybe she had softly enquired about the guys running this place, or maybe she had outright asked where Alfie was. The tomboy had probably thought nothing of giving up the information. Not in the loop, not on the ladder.

  ‘I was just being careful,’ he said, but the excuse felt weak.

  ‘Fine. Explain how you knew about the hospital.’

  He mentioned the picture on the wall. ‘That was Alfie. I recognised the bike.’

  He recalled the dragon’s eyes from the bike in the woods the other night. If that was Alfie on the wall, then Alfie was the guy who’d chased Nate on a bike and been bowled like a ball by a truck. He told her so. He did not mention that Damar had been part of the crew that had turned up.

  ‘So no van jumping at all for this guy.’

  ‘Ego. A pro biker getting hit by traffic doesn’t have the same ring to it. Or he’s been told to keep it all secret, which makes sense.’

  ‘So, we go see this guy. I’ll take back the reins now, if you don’t mind. Your brain’s not working very well. You’re doing things the long way round. Probably the remnants of that drug.’

  ‘Might you mean the one you injected into me?’

  ‘See, the drug’s making you forget that that part was done before I got on the scene.’

  He didn’t want an argument about that subject. Ever again. ‘So what do you suggest, O great one? Go in and put an entire hospital under siege?’

  ‘See? That’s your brain working, not mine. We use two of these.’

  She held up her phone.

  Visiting hours started at four, and they got to the hospital ten minutes early. A slow stroll to Sunningdale via a Costa Coffee, where they bought hot drinks and chocolate muffins, put them outside the ward entrance bang on time, behind six or seven visitors already waiting. More joined the queue behind them before the staff unlocked the door.

  Nate kept his head bowed and his cap pulled low until Toni told him that he looked like a guy up to no good. He walked upright after that, but rubbed around his eye constantly to cover his face. She found his concern funny.

  Every other visitor knew exactly where to go and went there noisily, like holidaymakers, but Nate and Toni had to look around, and that just added to his anxiety. But they didn’t get challenged. The patients were all responsible adults, not a known paedophile or Mafioso snitch amongst them, and budget cuts meant the nurses didn’t have enough pause time to notice anything untoward.

  The door to Alfie’s room was ajar and a TV blared from within. They stood outside. Nate had a cheap pay-as-you-go phone, one of two they had bought half an hour earlier. He called a number and the phone in Toni’s hand vibrated. They confirmed the line was open, then Toni put the phone in her jacket pocket and pushed open the door.

  In the bed was a young man with shaved sides to his head and a curly mop on top. His leg and hip were smothered in plaster, a bandage wrapped his right shoulder, and cuts and bruises dotted his face. But he was awake and alert. He looked to be doing okay for a guy who, according to Nate, had been hit by a truck. He looked away from his phone, which was playing the TV noises, and up at her as she approached.

  ‘Do you know me?’ she said. She stood by the bed and grabbed the water jug on his overbed table and moved it a couple of inches. Just fiddling.

  ‘I can get to know you all you want, if you like. What happened to your face?’

  Her fingers roamed across the injury he referred to. ‘I tried to jump two vans on my bike also. Front wheel fell off.’

  He looked suspicious. ‘You from the club? Liam’s sister, you ain’t her, are you?’

  ‘No.’ She approached and stroked his bedsheets. Looked up at a shelf above his head. ‘I’m Damar’s friend. I need to find him. Everything went wrong.’

  Suspicion turned to shock, but he covered it by rubbing his face. ‘I don’t know any Damar, sorry. How did you find me and why? And who do you think I am?’

  She fiddled with a vase on the shelf, standing over him. He was looking up with something close to concern, as if fearing an attack. She knew then that she had the right guy for sure, and that he knew more than he was letting on.

  ‘If you hear anything about Damar, let me know. I’m hanging out in the canteen on floor four. It close
s at five, but I’ll be there until seven maximum. Then I’m gone.’

  And with that, she left.

  Outside, she and Nate scurried quickly from the corridor and into a disabled toilet. Nate held the burner phone between them. It was on speakerphone. They heard rustling noises, and TV noises. She had planted her own burner on the shelf in Alfie’s room, behind the vase.

  It took just thirty seconds. The TV noises went off and there was silence for a few seconds. Then: ‘It’s me,’ they heard Alfie say. ‘Forget your no-calls rule, man. I just had that girl in my hospital room. Walked right on in. Damar’s bitch.’

  Pause. Someone on the other end of Alfie’s call speaking.

  ‘No, dude, she didn’t seem like she just escaped. The guy must have let her go.’

  Pause.

  ‘No idea about him. Didn’t mention him. All she wanted was to know where Damar was. She just asked, didn’t say anything else. But she did say where she’s going to be hanging out.’

  Pause.

  ‘No idea. Listen, she’s here in the hospital. Said she’s gonna wait in the canteen on the fourth floor.’

  Pause

  ‘I’m in fucking plaster, I can’t go anywhere. Fourth floor if you want her. You got until seven o’clock.’

  Pause. Then nothing. The call had clearly ended and maybe Alfie was sitting back, thinking.

  They gave it another two minutes, but he made no more calls, said nothing. Nate killed the call. He saw that Toni looked angry.

  ‘Don’t get any ideas about going back for that guy.’ He put a hand around her arm, just in case she fled from the bathroom to get him. She shrugged it off.

  ‘I have patience.’

  ‘We need to tread carefully. This damn plan better work, because they’re going to come for us.’

  She looked at him, all steely-eyed. ‘Good,’ was her reply.

  The canteen did indeed close at five, but the doors remained open because there was a vending machine. A big thing that you could order a hot pie from, if you didn’t mind remortgaging your house in order to pay for it. The staff had put all the chairs upside down on the tables and turned off half the lights so you’d know you had to take your pie and eat it elsewhere. Long windows in the far wall looked down over a car park and outbuildings. It was night, so the glass reflected the room.