“Well, Charlie, you’re hearing it now,” William said evenly.
“Oh really?” I shifted my gaze briefly between the three of them. “I’ve had to put up with the cops raiding Jacob’s place this afternoon looking for the carcass of Slick’s bike,” I said, wondering if MacMillan’s polite search quite qualified as a raid. “I told them jack shit – to borrow a phrase – about what he might have been up to and where else they might care to look. And you tell me that’s not the action of a mate?”
Gleet raised his eyebrows. “She’s got a point,” he allowed. “If she’s come to pay her respects, why not let her stay?”
“No!” Paxo said, vehement. “She’s just come to snoop.”
Gleet regarded me solemnly for a moment although there might have been more than that going on under the surface. “Well at least she’s not brought that tame thug of hers with her,” he said. “Who is he, by the way?”
“His name’s Sean Meyer and he’s a real nasty piece of work,” said a new voice from my left. Jamie stepped into view and faced me with barely concealed glee at this unexpected opportunity to put the boot in.
“Sean Meyer?” William repeated slowly. “I remember that name now – from years back. Racist bastard, wasn’t he? Went down for it.”
“No,” I said flatly. “He wasn’t. And he didn’t.”
“I know Mum was down at Dad’s place this morning and Sean beat the shit out of her boyfriend,” Jamie said. “Splatted his nose all over his face.”
“Considering Eamonn was attempting to break both my ankles at the time,” I snapped, “I’d say he had it coming, wouldn’t you?”
I glanced back at the others. Gleet’s heavy features might even have been looking amused. William and Paxo exchanged silent glances I didn’t catch the meaning of.
“I think you should leave now,” William said then, his voice almost indifferent. “Either of your own accord or not. Makes no odds to us.”
I shrugged, tossed my three-quarter empty bottle of beer into the fire and turned away, starting to walk down the hill towards where the bikes were parked. Gleet and the others walked with me in silence. I could feel them behind me all the way and it was tempting to break into a run but I kept my pace steady. By the time I reached the Suzuki my shoulder blades were twitching with the effort.
They watched me retrieve my helmet from the bar end, kick the RGV into life and wheel it out of the line. All the while I was expecting one of them to reinforce the threat with something more physical. I knew I didn’t stand a chance if they decided to make their displeasure more actively felt and I concentrated on keeping my face blank, my stance passive. But they said nothing. Did nothing. Just standing there glaring was more than enough.
As I rode away carefully along the potholed farm track leading to the main road I could feel the nervous sweat sticking my shirt to my back under my leathers. I hadn’t learned much, that was true, but at least I’d escaped unscathed from the encounter.
I only hoped that Sam would be able to do the same.
Eight
The first spots of rain began to fall just as I hit the main road and turned the Suzuki’s head back towards Lancaster.
I cursed under my breath as I felt the rain splash onto my visor. It wouldn’t be long before the water was down the back of my neck. I reached up and pulled the collar of my jacket tighter, like that was really going to make a difference.
We hadn’t had any significant rain for weeks and the Wray road was out in farm country, bordered by tall hedges and dry stone walls. Constant agricultural traffic meant the tarmac was coated with dust and muck and diesel. Just add water and it quickly turned to a lethally slippery film on the surface. Until the rainfall was heavy enough to wash the road clean, it was like riding on black ice.
The light was dropping, too. That halfway stage between day and evening when you need your headlights on but they don’t actually seem to do much. I slowed right down.
Which was how they managed to catch me quite so easily.
I don’t know precisely where they came from. One moment my mirrors were empty, and the next there was the sudden flare of main beam headlights behind me.
My first thought was that some stupid car driver had only just cottoned on to the fact that the approaching gloom meant it might be a good idea to put his lights on.
As soon as I’d finished that thought, the suspicious part of my mind took over. When I first took to two wheels I learned very quickly how vulnerable you are to other road users. I was knocked off the first time before I’d even passed my test.
Looks like someone was aiming for a rematch.
The lights had closed up fast on my rear end, blazing. I edged slightly over to the left, hoping the driver would take the hint and just go past me.
The lights moved up closer still. I couldn’t see anything of the vehicle or the driver because of the glare of them. I held my position and speed. As I approached a left-hander the driver following me put on a burst of speed and swung out to the right. As he drew level with my knee I realised that the lights were too big and too widely spaced to belong to a car. More like a van.
Instinctively, I whacked the throttle wide open just as the van lurched sideways into my airspace.
The bike’s engine screamed as the tacho needle bounced into the red line at 12,000rpm. I backed off before
