Read Online Here Be Dragons: A Short Story by Sharon Bolton - Free Book Online

Constable Josh takes a shot in the neck and collapses down out of sight.
    ‘Are you sure?’ Assaf says.

9
     
    THE CAPTURED BOAT makes its way upriver towards Westminster. Tower Bridge is behind them now.
    The colour of the sky is deepening, its eggshell blue becoming turquoise, deeper on the horizon, with a hint of the indigo to come.
    The air around the RIB seems to have become heavier. Joesbury can feel the weight of it pressing him down.
    The whole of London might be on the river tonight. Every riverside pub and café overflows with sunburned bodies. People sit on the river wall or walk along the embankments, watching the craft on the river.
    The radio crackles into life. ‘MP to Marine Six, can we have an update on your situation?’
    Assaf taps Joesbury on the shoulder. ‘You know what to say. One mistake and your girlfriend and uncle will suffer.’
    Joesbury feels fear creep around his heart the way a snake coils about a tree branch, but he makes himself stare vacantly at their two trussed prisoners. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen these people before—’
    ‘We know exactly who you are, Detective Inspector Joesbury, we know about your familial relationship with Frederick Wilson and your romantic involvement with Constable Lacey Flint. Do exactly as we say for the next thirty minutes and no harm will come to any of you. Depart from my instructions for a second and I will shoot first of all your uncle, then the woman you love. Am I making myself clear?’
    Fred’s eyes close briefly; Lacey’s gaze hasn’t wavered.
    ‘MP to Marine Six, what’s going on out there? I need a response, Marine Six.’
    Joesbury picks up the transmitter. ‘Marine Six to MP, we’re good here, thanks. We hailed a vessel in difficulties, offered what assistance we could and sent them on their way. We’re proceeding upriver now as previously instructed.’
    ‘Thanks for that. MP out.’
    And that’s the final piece in the puzzle of why the gang need him. Not just for his boat-handling skills, not just for his knowledge of the river, but also because his voice, over the radio, will be just about indistinguishable from that of his uncle.
    As they near Southwark Bridge, Joesbury wants only one thing. To find the cunt who betrayed him and cut out his tongue. His boss? No, he’d stake his life on Philips being sound. Beenie then. Rage fills him and for a second he feels he might lose it completely, but in the bow of the boat, Lacey’s calm, hazel-blue eyes never leave him and he holds it together.
    A pleasure cruiser is steaming down the centre channel, probably heading for Greenwich. As it draws close, Assaf throws the tarpaulin over Fred and Lacey. The passengers in the pleasure craft will see a Marine Unit RIB with five uniformed officers on board. Several of them wave as the two boats draw level, no doubt seeing the young, predominantly dark-skinned crew and thinking how encouraging it is that the Metropolitan Police are finally embracing ethnic diversity. Haddad waves back.
    Millennium Bridge.
    Twenty-two minutes to go.
    Blackfriars Bridge. Lacey moves restlessly beneath the tarpaulin.
    ‘Get that cover off them. If they suffocate under there, your bargaining power sinks without a trace.’
    Assaf nods his permission, and the tarpaulin is dragged off Fred and Lacey. Fred is bright red; even Lacey looks unhealthily pink. Both are breathing heavily. Both are beginning to look very scared.
    Enough is enough. Joesbury speaks up.
    ‘Fellas, I have no idea where I’m going. I need to do exactly what this crew have been instructed, report in when they’re expected to, or the game’s up.’
    At a nod from Assaf, Malouf crouches down and pulls the tape off Fred’s mouth.
    Fred sucks at a spot on his lower lip where the skin has been removed by the tape. ‘We’re heading up towards Westminster,’ he says. ‘We’re covering the south bank, expecting big crowds tonight. Then we’re going to cover