Don't... 04 Backlash (19 page)

“
No
shit,” said Logan, again looking around Jack to check for more...
company.
What the
fuck is this
? No
one else was spotted. Not even Jack’s car.

“Was in the
neighbourhood.” Jack gave such a cheeky smile. “Thought I’d come
say hi.” He even added a small wave. “Hello there. Keal in?”

Logan wasn’t
given the chance to answer as Jack pushed past, at first stopping
and shaking his head and body like a dog let in after torrential
rain, then automatically reaching for the lounge handle.

“Hey. What—”
Logan grabbed his wrist, stopping him reaching down. “What the fuck
are you doing here, Harrison?”

Jack looked
down at the hand gripping his. “There are a thousand and one
intimate ways to answer that.” He looked up and all humour drained
from his eyes. “And it all begins with, you really need to let
fucking go now, mate.”

Logan
frowned, pulling his hand away. He looked so fucking different from
the Jack he’d seen earlier. Pupils were fully dilated, almost
removing the silver grey and adding a wired-up, drug-state stare.
“Why are you here? What do you want?”
What the fuck are you on?

Jack shifted
slightly, easing against the door and crossing his arms. Logan felt
the long look up and down his body. “Let’s talk about you for a
while.” He glanced around the hall. “This place is looking in need
of a little loving, yet...” The boxes took Jack’s attention.
“You’re running fast and far, by the look of it.”

“Identifying
your father’s body can do that to a son, Jack.” Logan leaned
against the wall and copied the relaxed look Jack gave, although it
didn’t quite go as deep as Jack’s obviously did.

“Oh,” said Jack
and his look seemed to sharpen, deepen. “Keal’s boy, all grown up
and home alone.” A smile crept up as he looked him up and down
again.

“Don’t believe
we’ve been introduced formally.” Jack held out a hand. “Name’s
Martin. Martin Jack Harrison. Bet nobody told you, huh?” He thumbed
behind him when Logan didn’t shake it. “Mind if I look around and
see what memories it sparks?”

That got
Logan’s attention. “You knew my father?”

“Me and your
old man?” A smile was given. “Sure. Go way back, him and me. Got a
few stories to tell you on how he and Cutter used to... well.”
Another glance came over Martin’s shoulder. “Not get along, so to
speak.”

Cutter? Who the
hell was Cutter? He only wanted to know about—“Raoul? Where does he
fit in?”

Martin paused,
his look now on the dining room but somehow distracted. “Oh he’s
into every wound.” Logan got a wink. “Or causing them. Wanna start
a campfire and roast a few nuts over a story or two?”

The ringing
from his mobile woke Gray first, although it took a second or two
for the mugginess to clear for him to realise his mobile phone was
nearly being drowned out by Jack’s landline phone. As Gray sat up,
Jan stirred, giving a rub at his hair and more than looking like
he’d had a night on the tiles with how shadows played under his
eyes.

But as Jan let
his hand rest on Jack’s side of the bed, he seemed to go still in
the same moment Gray did.

Jan stayed
welded there, an ear turned into the blackness of the bedroom. What
did he fear would come out of the shadows? Henry? Vince?

Martin?

Jack?

Gray reached
over for his phone. For his own reasons, there was too much of
himself in Jan’s look, too many earlier years of waking up and
finding Jack’s side of the bed cold. Too many years of waking up
and dreading who might be there smirking back at him instead.

“He’s walking.”
Gray heard from the phone, and the passing of traffic on the other
end came through too.

“How long,
Ray?” Gray didn’t move from the bed for a minute. Jan seemed caught
in limbo, and despite the warmth under the covers, his hand had
that winter-morning feel as Gray brushed at it. Earlier on they’d
stayed in the bedroom for a good while, mostly calming life down,
then food had been brought. Gray and Jack had eaten, with Jan
barely touching his and echoing the quiet of the bedroom now. Jack
had done what he always did, tugged Jan down on the settee with the
quilt around them and put on Lee Evans. By the time the stand-up
comedian had gotten around to accountant jokes, even Jan was left
burying his chuckles in the covers. It hadn’t been perfect, but it
was a start.

That had been a
few hours ago, now the alarm clock on the unit said barely 12:10
a.m. Jan had looked fine as he’d let Jack cuddle up. Jack had
looked... fine holding him. Still turned on, but then Jack was
schooled to ignore heat, and his pull-in close of Jan had spoken
comfort, nothing more. Jan had still looked... fine.

Gray glanced
over at him. Shaking had filtered through as Jan sat there
listening to the unnatural silence found in the darkness, or
perhaps more the last time he’d woken in Gray’s bed and saw Martin
come fully out of the shadows

“Hey,” he said
gently to coax some life into Jan. A frown flicked in his
direction. The dead feel of the apartment told Gray everything he
needed to know too. “I need you to get dressed.” Gray wouldn’t risk
leaving Jan here on his own. “I can take you to the MC—”

Jan’s gaze
withered a touch. “No. You. I go with you.” He tossed the covers
back and was up, tugging some clothes on over his pyjama
bottoms.

“Jan.” Gray
covered the mouthpiece as Ray said something. “You’ve been shaken
up enough tonight, and I know Martin—”

“Jack.” Jan’s
hands shook as he fastened his trousers. “We go for Jack, not that
bastard. Just...” He searched the bedroom for something. “Just need
my jacket.”

Gray focused
back on the phone and removed his hand. “How long?” He shifted and
picked up his sidearm. Jan was oblivious as he searched the
darkness for his jacket.

“No more than
forty-five minutes,” said Ray. Gray wasn’t stupid; there was always
a risk that Jack would walk, so part of the one-on-one surveillance
meant overnight obs here too.

“And it took
you this fucking long to let me know?”

A hard sigh was
given. “You need to get downstairs, sir. Deaton’ll explain.”

“He’s not with
Jack?”

“No,” said Ray,
and Gray ended the call. Suit trousers, then shirt, were slipped
on, phone eased into his pocket, gun holster over his shoulder,
then Gray held the door open for Jan as he came over. Jan tugged on
his jacket, rummaged in one pocket, then pulled out his phone from
another and thumbed in a number.

“I’ll try
Jack’s.” But as Jan finished speaking, Gray glanced back to the
bedside unit as the light from Jack’s mobile kissed the darkness,
then the ring tone came through.

Jan glanced
back. “He could have just gone to clear his head... forgotten it,”
he said to Gray, but Jan looked away too quickly. He had been there
when they’d discussed surveillance and protocol. Jack didn’t leave
without anyone knowing where he was going, and for how long.
Period.

Jan frowned.
“He was fine, Gray.” He looked up, still paused there in the
doorway. “He was... fine. Wasn’t he? A little pissed, frustrated—”
Jan stopped himself there. “I didn’t want this, I didn’t—”

“Not your
fault, Jan. Jack walks for a whole host of different reasons.” Gray
rubbed at Jan’s arm and pulled back when he jolted. “C’mon. He
won’t have gotten too far.”

Buried beneath
everything else, the look in Jan’s eyes called Gray out on letting
Jack slip through his touch again, but Gray hadn’t risked that
happening a second time.

They made it
into the hall outside and headed for the lifts. The lift attendant
nodded as Gray took out his wallet. “You see this man leave in the
last forty-five minutes?”

The lift
attendant shifted the glasses off his nose and leaned closer.
“Jack?” He smiled as he pulled back, straightening his trousers.
“Yeah, took him down to the lobby about...” He checked his watch.
“Forty minutes ago.”

“Did he say
where he was going?” That came from Jan and Gray bit down looking
at him with how ill his voice sounded. He hadn’t wanted to step
into the lift. As they reached the bottom, he didn’t look like he
wanted to get out.

“Just said he
was going for a drink.” The man smiled. “Gave a smashing tip.”

“In coveralls?”
asked Gray.

“Sorry?” said
the attendant.

“He was going
for a drink, but wearing his work coveralls?” said Jan.

Jan gave Gray a
frowned look. Jan hadn’t picked up that Jack’s work clothes hadn’t
been in the bedroom. Maybe he was working with the knowledge that
he’d seen Jack in them earlier, but either way, it showed his
cognitive process was a little skewed.

The attendant
shrugged. “Likes his cars a lot. I doubt he’s much comfortable in
anythin’ else.”

“And he gave
you a tip?” Gray scratched at his stubble.

The attendant
patted his suit pocket. “Same as always.”

Considering Jack hadn’t been here that often, the “always”
tag sounded more wishful thinking, more a
make sure you tell Jack I like his
tips
confession. As
they waited for the doors to open, Jan glanced over. The question
was there over asking about the tip, but Gray knew it would click
soon enough.

“Oh, remind him
to leave my belt at the reception desk later, okay? I’ll pick it up
in the morning.”

“Excuse me?”
said Gray, looking back as they got out.

The attendant
again twisted his trousers, offering a small and awkward smile.
“Lad was at a loss with forgetting his belt....”

“Wearing
coveralls?” said Jan, brows raised.

The man thought
about it, then shrugged. “I thought he needed it when he got
changed.”

“He was
carrying an overnight bag?”

“Sorry?” He
glanced at Gray.

“You said you
thought he’d change. So he was carrying a bag that suggested he’d
get changed at some point?”

“Well, no.” He
scratched at his head. “Didn’t really question it. He just looked
sad that he didn’t have a belt.”

By the time
they made it outside, another five minutes had passed, leaving Gray
glancing at his watch before looking across the road to the black
Merc parked there on display. Another car had pulled up behind the
Merc, and Ray was leaning down into it, occasionally drawing back
and not looking happy. He would have called someone else in to look
after Greg as soon as he heard there was a problem. Jan and Gray
waited for the night traffic to clear, then went over.

Gray glanced
down at the belt Ray held. The last notch was stretched, suggesting
a heavier frame usually wore it. At the moment, though, Deaton sat
in the Merc, rubbing at the red marks around his wrists and
suggesting a new calling for the belt.

“He was just
Jack,” said the big man, looking up, and Gray eased back a touch.
“He got in the back saying he needed a lift to his old man’s.”
Deaton pointed at the radio. “I didn’t mind him getting in. It was
raining, and he was getting soaked. So I let him in and went to
radio Ray to let him know I was heading over to Mr Harrison Senior,
then...” He rubbed at his wrists again. Both were marked, but it
was how his suit jacket was wet at the elbow that suggested Jack
had used the advantage of being in the back seat and tied the big
man’s hands to the headrest behind, leaving his one elbow exposed
to the rain.

“He has a
knife.”

That drew
Gray’s attention to Ray.

“He mark you?”
said Gray to Deaton.

“No,” said the
big man, scratching at his throat. “Just, just a quick fucker with
it.”

“Still armed
too,” said Ray, carefully. “He took a car farther down the street.
The owner isn’t aware yet. Deaton got the licence plate number, so
I’m just about to go and talk to the owner and let them know.”

Gray nodded.
“If there’s any damage or the car is irretrievable, let them know
it will be compensated for.” Gray found Jan, how he was looking
down into the darkness of an empty road. “Jan, go back with Ray.
Please.”

There was a
slight pause, then Jan looked back—“’M’okay. I... I stay with
you.”

Gray tensed his
jaw, hating that desolation in his eyes. It was a look that said he
didn’t want to be lost for a second time, not like Jack. “Okay.” He
was back with Ray. “Get Deaton back to the MC. Let Brennan know
Jack’s walking.”

“Do you need
anyone else called in?”

Gray turned
away. “Yes, but I’ll handle it.”