Freddie watched them talking. He saw her point at him, so he waved, holding a smile and trying not to feel paranoid. He walked down the heather-covered slope towards the couple, his feigned grin fixed on.
Standing, hovering by the open car door, Freddie could hear the radio turn from music into the local news. It was the usual. Politics. International war. Who’s shagging who in the world of entertainment, and then he heard what he was hoping not to hear.
‘Finally, police are still searching for the escaped prisoner, Freddie Thompson, who escaped early yesterday morning after the prison van he was being transported in was held up by five armed men. Thompson is known to be the head of one of Britain’s most powerful and dangerous criminal organisations. He’s described to be six foot tall, blonde streaked hair, blue eyes and well-built. He also has a very distinctive London accent. Police believe he may be heading for the north of England. They are warning the public not to approach him. They are also looking for another man, Eddie Davidson, who was sentenced last year to life imprisonment for killing his wife. He’s believed not to be travelling with Thompson.’
Freddie swivelled round slowly to face ‘Andy’ and the woman. Their faces were drained of colour, and the frightened glaze in their eyes told Freddie all he needed to know. They stared at one another. Nobody moved.
Freddie saw the woman’s eyes starting to dart about. Unable to stand the tension any longer, she blurted out, ‘Egg roll anyone?’ Hysteria cutting into her tone.
Her hand trembled as she held out an egg mayonnaise sandwich wrapped in cellophane. Freddie raised his eyebrows, shook his head in bemusement.
‘I ain’t here to mess about. So as they say, I can either do this the easy way or the hard way. But understand this, either way is fine by me.’
Andy spoke up and it amused Freddie to see him plumping out his chest. ‘Listen here you. Just tell me what you want from us.’
Freddie walked towards Andy, who straightaway looked like he knew he’d been foolish to try to show any bravado.
‘For a start Andy, I think you’d be wise to get rid of your attitude mate. It really won’t do you or your missus here any good to play daydream hero with me.’
Andy put his head down, humiliated.
‘Okay, so what I need to do is get out of this area, and you guys need to take me.’
‘What about your car?’
‘He
hasn’t
got a car Brenda; he was just saying that.’ Andy snapped at his wife who blushed, though still looked slightly puzzled.
‘But his electrics have gone.’
Ignoring her, Andy spoke to Freddie, this time making sure the deference was heard in his voice.
‘Why don’t you just take our car and leave us here?’
‘So you can call the police within a moment of me going? I ain’t born yesterday.’
‘We wouldn’t do that.’
‘Then you really are more stupid than you look Andy. Listen, I want to get to the viewpoint on the north side of the moor, but I’ve no idea where I am now, so you have to drive me.’
The woman turned to Andy. ‘We should drive round fell way.’
‘I’ve never been keen on that route, Brenda. It takes you too far round. I prefer the Ilkley Quarry way. Past the cow and calf rocks, I …
Freddie shouted, interrupting the couple who both jumped in fright. ‘Jesus Christ, I’ve been landed with John fucking Craven. This ain’t an episode of
Countryfile
; I don’t care how we do it. Just fucking take me there.’
‘How long will it take?’ Freddie listened to Johno on his mobile as he sat in the back seat, his gun out on his lap. If he was going to get caught and sent back to prison, then he was as sure as hell going to blaze a hole in anybody who tried to put him there. Though there was probably no need to play hard ball with these two. They didn’t seem the type of couple who’d start with the heroics. Not now anyway.
Freddie glanced at the side of Andy’s head. His temple showed an angry red mark. Freddie had given him a little slap about before they’d got in the car; ‘a taste of things to come’ as he’d put it. A warning to Andy not to do anything stupid as he drove.
Freddie finished off his call to Johno. The helicopter could be at the viewpoint in forty minutes. Thirty, at a push. Although Johno had asked what had happened, he hadn’t explained anything to him about Tasha, not with Bill and Ben sitting in the front. He had heard the relief in Johno’s voice when he’d spoken to him. The guy had been worried and oddly enough, it had made Freddie feel good. At least there was one person he could trust.
‘Can’t this tin box go any faster?’ Freddie turned and watched the smoke billowing out of the back of the Ford Fiesta as he shouted at Andy over the noise of the engine.
‘Don’t like to push her. She’s fifteen, but still manages these hills pretty well. She’s been all over with us.’
Freddie rubbed his head. He was talking about a car like it was his own child. Of all the people he could run into, it was these two. Then what did he expect? He was never going to meet anyone near normal on a moor. Rambling. Bird watching. Picnicking. Camping. All kinds of crazy shit. There was only one type of person on the moor. And he’d certainly been landed with them.
‘Just put your foot down on the pedal and move it.’ Freddie could see Andy’s worried expression as he shifted up into fifth, scraping the gears with a screeching sound. From the back seat he could see the speed dial as it changed from forty to sixty, then eighty. The road dipped and curved. The Fiesta took the tight bends as they hurtled along. Freddie watched Brenda holding on tightly to her seat as Andy pressed his body into the steering wheel. The car began to push out more strange noises and more smoke, almost obscuring the view of the road.
‘You’ll kill us all Andy. Slow down.’
‘I’ll tell him when to slow down, keep going.’
‘Brenda’s right, the car won’t make it.’
Freddie pointed the gun at Andy. ‘You better make sure it makes it.’
Brenda’s piercing scream rang in Freddie’s ears. The minute Andy saw the gun at the side of his head he began to shout in panic, swerving all over the road dangerously.
‘Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.’
‘Calm down for fuck’s sake.’ The combination of the screams, the shouts and the noisy engine made it impossible for anyone to hear Freddie. He took a deep breath and followed it by a loud bellow. ‘Stop.’ The car screeched to a halt.
Hitting his head on the back of the seat, Freddie glared at Andy waving his gun in his face. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘You said stop.’
‘Stop shouting, not stop the fucking car. Move it.’
‘The engine’s stalled.’
‘Oh Jesus, get out. Get the fuck out. I’ll drive.’ Freddie pushed open the passenger door, running round to the driver’s seat; almost dragging Andy out. Getting into the front seat, Freddie looked up and saw they were in front of a tiny three-way junction.
‘Which way Andy?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve got a map in the boot though.’
A few seconds of rummaging in the back had Andy jumping back in the car, frantically poring over the map. Sweat from his forehead dripped down, spotting it with dark smudges.
‘For goodness’ sake, you’ve got it the wrong way up.’ Brenda turned the map round without any warning, and promptly caught Andy’s eye with the corner of it.
With one hand held over his watery eye, Andy snapped in annoyance. ‘No, you’re wrong. It’s the other way.’ He turned it back round, attempting to straighten out the folds.
‘I think you’ll find it’s not.’ Brenda haughtily snatched the map again, spinning it round. It was all too much for Freddie.
‘Are you two trying to take the piss?’ They stared at him, bewildered. ‘Never mind. Never fucking mind.’ Freddie glanced at his watch. They needed to hurry. He turned the engine on putting the car into gear. While he was deciding which way to go, he heard a distinctive loud noise, the sound of a helicopter flying overhead. With no hesitation, Freddie wheel skidded the Fiesta straight across the junction and down the hill, following the distinctive grey helicopter.
The car bounced over the cattle grids, slamming down the suspension. Freddie could still see the helicopter ahead as he glanced up to the sky. He needed to get to the viewpoint as soon as possible. An unauthorised helicopter would certainly bring attention.
Racing down the road, Freddie’s heart dropped. From the corner of his eye he saw a white vehicle, then a blue flashing light. Instinct kicked in. He reached over to the dashboard, leaning for his gun, cocking the hammer of the M92 in readiness.
He needed more speed. His foot was right down on the pedal, pressed into the floor, yet he still wasn’t able to push the Fiesta past ninety. He could almost feel the police car on his tail. Shit. He had to think, but the noise from the back was beginning to distract him. He quickly glanced round to scream at Andy and Brenda who were in the throes of hysteria,
‘Shut up! Unless you want a bullet in your head.’ Almost immediately, they fell silent.
With a sudden movement, Freddie veered off the road, onto the bracken-covered moor. In his rear-view mirror he saw the police car furiously reversing back after shooting past. Then a sight he was hoping he wouldn’t see. Over the horizon, coming the other way, drenched in sunlight, were three more police vehicles, speeding up the road.
The Fiesta wasn’t going to outrun the police cars. The only thing Freddie could do was make a run for it. The viewpoint was just over the other side of the fell.
‘Take my phone. Last number. Call it.’ Freddie barked the order at Andy.
‘Voicemail. It’s just gone straight to voicemail.’
‘Fuck. Ok, find the name,
Eddie
. Call it.’
Andy’s fingers fumbled with the phone. ‘It’s ringing.’
‘Put it to my ear.’ Freddie anxiously looked in the driver’s mirror. He could feel the wheels of the car getting stuck in the ground and he pulled the Fiesta up, grabbing the phone from Andy. Freddie opened the door and jumped out, taking a quick glance round, trying to judge the distance between him and the police. Then he began to leg it.
Running with the gun in one hand and the phone in the other, Freddie stumbled over the heather. He had to talk to someone; this might be his last chance. He could see the helicopter four hundred meters in front but the police were gaining.
Freddie could feel the tightness in his lungs as he ran. He was panting hard and it felt like he could hardly breathe. He heard the click of the phone. ‘Ed! It’s Freddie, listen to me. Don’t say anything. Tash never turned up. I need you to sort it … Whatever happens, sort it.’
Without cutting off the phone, Freddie shoved the phone in his pocket as he tried to speed up. He ran, turning and shooting blindly behind him. Two hundred meters. He wasn’t going to make it. One hundred meters. He could see the helicopter just in front, hovering a couple of feet above the ground.
Glancing round, Freddie could see the police had fallen back after the shots were fired. Only another fifty meters. He pushed forward but as he did, he felt himself start to lose his balance. His foot landed in a hole, sending him sidewards, tumbling on to his side. He hit the ground, losing the grip on the gun, but pulled himself up quickly, running faster than he’d ever run before. The two policemen almost now catching back up with him.
The pain in Freddie’s chest was almost unbearable as he struggled for breath. The spinning helicopter blades muffled out all sounds.
‘Take my hand boss!’ one of Freddie’s men yelled, reaching out his hand as the helicopter began to rise into the air. Freddie grabbed on. For a moment, he thought he was going to be pulled in two as his men held onto his arms and two police officers held on to his legs. He heard shots being fired and a moment later the grip on his legs were released.
Freddie was pulled into the helicopter on his stomach as it soared above the moors. He sat up, watching as the figures below got smaller and smaller until they became small dots. He leant back, his eyes closed but there was no relief. Tasha had betrayed him and the only thing Freddie Thompson felt was hate. Pure, revengeful, hatred.
Eddie clicked off the phone.
‘Who was that Ed?’
He gazed at the woman and sighed. He looked at her tits, her curvaceous body, her red puckered lips and his wasted erection. Getting off the bed without saying anything, he started to get dressed. Heading for the door, Eddie decided Freddie owed him big time.
Eddie Davidson couldn’t have been more pissed-off if he tried. He was frustrated for a few reasons. One, he hadn’t had the shag he’d so carefully lined up. Two, he hadn’t been able to track Tasha down, and three, unless he was being paranoid, it seemed every television channel had his face on it.
The problem was, to find Tasha he had to start speaking to people. And speaking to people meant the likelihood of being caught was ever more present.
He had a lot of time for Freddie. Owed him a lot and his loyalty to him never came into dispute. But it didn’t stop Eddie wanting to wring his neck at this moment. By rights he should be tucked up in bed getting his balls sucked by a Tom, whilst another sat on his face. Instead, he was being Freddie’s foot-soldier, something he’d never signed up for. Then again, who did sign up with Freddie? Freddie was the type of man who
told
you what to do and there was never any question of not doing it, unless of course you wanted to end up bobbing in the Thames.
He’d been looking forward to getting back to London. The north had never been his bag. Come to think of it, he couldn’t actually think of a place where he’d ever felt at home, apart from the streets of Soho.
He had a mate in Portugal who ran a bar. The idea of going over there had briefly passed through his mind, but the idea of spending the rest of his days in the sun and not waking each day to the grimy smells, sounds and sights of London was more than he could bear the thought of. And even if it meant having to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life, he was more than willing to take the chance if it meant being able to have a cup of Rosie Lee in Lola’s Cafe on Berwick Street.