The big biker who’d accompanied Tess to the hospital the day before was standing up close to the front of Paxo’s bike. He had three carrier bags in one massive hand, and two bike helmets in the other, dangling from their straps.
One helmet was open face and matt black in colour – clearly his own. The other was an expensive custom- painted Shoei. It wasn’t until we got closer I realised from the damage that it must have been Slick’s. There was a nasty scrape across the front of the tinted visor and a sizeable gouge out of the gelcoat on one side that allowed the white inner shell to show through like bone.
Poking out of the top of one of the bags I could see the zipped sleeve of a distinctive black leather bike jacket. He must have just been in to collect Slick’s effects. All his worldly goods distilled into a few plastic bags.
The big man’s eyes skated over Sean and me once, lingered on Sean for a moment longer, then he turned back to Paxo and carried on his conversation with hardly a break in stride.
Not that ‘conversation’ quite summed it up. Both of them looked just about ready to come to the boil.
“I’m tellin’ you, you can’t go without Tess,” the big guy said now, his jaw set stubbornly.
“Why not?” Paxo tossed back.
The biker’s eyes slid pointedly in our direction for a second, then skipped back. “We already been over that,” he said. “You owe her, all of you. Big time.”
Paxo threw up his hands and clenched his fists, as though he would have liked nothing better than to feel them close round the other man’s throat. He would have needed a stepladder.
It was left to William to say calmly, “Look, Gleet, we know it was Slick’s idea and we won’t forget that, but we’re on with it now. It’s nothing to do with Tess any more. She’s got to let it go.”
“‘Let it go’?” Gleet, the big biker, echoed bitterly. “What about the money?”
“She’ll get her money back, don’t worry,” William said, his voice soothing. “We won’t see her short.”
“That’s not the point,” Gleet persisted, scowling. “You need her.”
“I don’t think so, mate,” Paxo said. He fished into the inside pocket of his leathers and came out with a packet of cigarettes that had all the corners bent, and a Zippo lighter. He lit up, cupping his hand round the flame and eyeing Gleet through the smoke. “This is going to be a fast trip – you know that,” he said as he exhaled. “We don’t have room for passengers.”
As he spoke his gaze flicked to Jamie and it seemed the comment worked on more than one level. Jamie managed a defiant stare in return.
“Tell ’em, Gnasher,” Gleet said, and it took me a moment to work out who he was talking to. “You were Slick’s mate. He stood up for you. You tell ’em.”
Jamie smiled blandly. “It’s not up to me, is it?”
“Oh right. Gone and fuckin’ forgotten already, huh?” Gleet let his breath out fast down his nose, flaring his nostrils like a cart horse. It wasn’t a good look for him. His arm came up and he stabbed out an accusing finger. The carrier bags swung wildly. “Some mates of his you lot are!”
I felt my stomach tighten as the heat rose one notch closer to outright ignition but Sean was already moving in. He angled his body so Gleet was forced to turn away from the others, opening up a gap, giving the steam somewhere to go. I moved in, too, reinforcing the stance Sean had taken.
“I think that’s enough,” Sean said quietly. “You’ve said your piece. Don’t take this further here than it needs to go.”
Gleet glared at him. He held his ground a few moments longer, his face belligerent, still hoping that his undoubted reputation would do the job for him. But when he realised at last that his bad name wasn’t going to carry the fight alone, he weighed the odds and wisely threw in his hand.
Gleet stepped back and glared at each of the faces in front of him, ours included, as though he was committing them to memory.
“You bunch of losers have no idea,” he said with quiet venom, shaking his head, “what you’re gettin’ yourselves into.”
And with that he turned on his heel and stalked away.
***
Sean and I were very restrained. We waited until we were away from the others before we backed Jamie up against a wall. At least, I backed him there with my fists wrapped deep in the weave of his T-shirt.
Gleet was long gone. William and Paxo had lidded up and hit the starters to fire up those loud pipes, and swept out of the car park. I hadn’t much cared about that one way or the other. I’d much more pressing matters on my mind. I wanted answers out of Jacob’s son and I wasn’t too fussy how I got them.
Sean let me lead it, just closing in on my left, standing apparently casual but in exactly the right place to block anyone’s view. He had his head tilted slightly and a mildly interested expression on his face, like he was waiting to see how badly I was prepared to hurt Jamie, but he wasn’t planning on interfering.
We were just outside the entrance to the wing that housed the Accident and Emergency unit. The planners had left nooks and crannies in the exterior design that I imagine were normally a refuge for the nicotine-addicted. It was certainly private enough for what I had in mind.
“Hey!” Jamie protested now as I bumped him back against the brickwork. He was smiling, as though he still believed he could laugh his way out of this. It was only when he took a proper look at my face that he fully realised the error he’d made in allowing me to get hold of him. His attempt at amusement began to slip as his eyes flicked from my face to Sean’s and he found no comfort there either. His bravado surfaced.
“What is this?” he demanded. He brought his hands up angrily and swatted at my fists. That the action failed to break my grip clearly startled him. His head came up but the brickwork behind him gave him nowhere to go. I saw the first trace of unease. Not fear – not yet – but it wasn’t far away.
