‘You are going to make me rich,’ Francis growled, finally providing an answer even if it was so cryptic as to be no use.
‘Make you rich?’ Albert repeated. ‘How am I supposed to do that?’
Francis started down the side of the car and Albert shuffled up the other side. He didn’t like the look of the machete the man held, especially not how big it still looked in the man’s giant hand.
Francis grunted, ‘You’re a high value target.’
Albert screwed up his face in confusion just as Francis had a moment before. A high value target? What on Earth did that mean? It wasn’t pertinent, but as he once again reached the back of the car, he paused when something caught his eye outside. There was a row of windows at the back and they were old, cheap plate glass. What he saw outside surprised him, but at the same time he also realised there was something he could no longer hear.
There was no more time if he wanted to get his answer. He stopped moving and held up his hands. Turning to face his would-be attacker as he advanced, Albert surrendered. ‘I give in. I can’t outrun you. Please just tell me one thing, and I’ll get in the boot.’
‘Where’s the duct tape?’ Francis shouted, pointing the tip of his machete in Albert’s direction, and manoeuvring it until it was almost touching the old man’s throat.
‘Under the car,’ Albert squeaked.
Francis gave the old man a hard stare. ‘If you move, I’ll cut off one of your hands when I catch you.’ He held the stare for a two count, then got into a press up position to see if the old man was telling the truth.
With the machete wielding maniac’s eyes off him for a second, Albert turned his head and signalled through the window. He wasn’t sure if what he now planned would work but the police were yet to arrive, and he was starting to get worried they might not be coming.
Francis reached a long arm under the car, snagging the bits he needed before bouncing back onto his feet.
‘Just one question,’ Albert reminded him in a pleading voice as he held out his hands, wrists together, so the man could tape them.
‘What is it?’ Francis growled, tearing off a long strip of tape.
‘What part did Kate Harris play in any of this?’ Albert held his breath as he waited for the reply.
With the sticky tape held ready, Francis gave the old man a look that asked if he was suffering from Alzheimer’s. ‘Who the heck is Kate Harris?’
That was what Albert wanted to hear, but he needed just a little more yet. As Francis came at him with the tape, Albert faked a sneeze, jerking spasmodically and shifting his hands so the tape closed on itself and stuck together helplessly. As Francis growled with rage, and snagged the reel again, Albert pressed him one last time.
‘She was the woman the police arrested on Tuesday afternoon. Don’t you remember? You and your friend were sitting at the table by the door. The police think she is your accomplice. How is she involved in the murder of Joel Clement?’
This time, Francis stopped to look directly into the old man’s eyes. ‘She’s not,’ he stated. ‘She had nothing to do with it. I killed Joel Clement, just like I’m going to kill you if you ask another question. Now hold your hands still.’
‘No more questions,’ Albert promised. ‘Just a piece of advice.’
Francis had been just about to apply the tape to Albert’s hands when he looked up in question. What advice could the old man possibly have to give?
As their eyes locked, Albert whipped his hands away, took a fast step back to the window and there he curled his right arm in so his elbow went high in front of his face and then extended it fast like he was throwing an invisible frisbee. With a barely contained laugh, he said, ‘Duck.’
The Power of Dog
Rex exploded through the glass behind Albert’s head just as he took his own advice and bent from the waist. Using the wall for support, he watched as the dog flew over his head. As a police dog, Rex was trained to do all sorts of things; jumping through a window wasn’t one of them, but there were signals for ‘quiet’ and ‘be ready’ which he signalled through the window when Francis went under the car to retrieve the duct tape.
The frisbee move was just one they played at the park sometimes. His athletic dog was able to leap many feet into the air, and though Albert didn’t know if it would work, with the police failing to respond to his call, he was out of options.
Francis had been about to grab for his machete and teach the old man a swift lesson when he saw the dog’s face fill the window. He had no idea how the beast managed to get free and there was no time to find out. If he went for the machete, the dog would get him. If he tried to grab the old man, the dog would get him. If he even tried to close the boot lid, the dog would get him. All he had time to do was throw himself over the top of the car and get inside.
Rex landed in a skid, disorientated because he’d come from light to dark and because he had no way of knowing what was on the other side. He’d chosen to trust his human largely because he knew the man he wanted to bite
