Read Online Bloody Horowitz by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anthony Horowitz
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everything outside simply disappeared and the two of them were out of the drizzle, lost in the world of the car, surrounded by luxury and the latest technology. Harry had taken the driving seat, of course. Both of them knew how to drive, but Jason also knew his place. He was the passenger. Harry was the one who would be taking them for this ride.
âWow!â Harry breathed the single word and giggled.
âAwesome!â Jason agreed.
Harry turned the key and the engine fired instantly. Jason heard the soft splutter and felt the vibrations. Never in his whole life had he sat in a car like this. He couldnât stop himself from smiling. Just a few hours before, he had been lying in his bed with its dirty, wrinkled sheets, wondering how he would spend the rest of the day. And now this!
âLetâs get out of here, Harry,â he said. He wanted to move. He wanted to leave the estate before the carâs owner appeared and dragged them out. And there was still that something else nagging at the corner of his mind. A silvergray BMW. It had a significance. But what was it?
The car had six gears. Harry whipped it into first, pressed on the accelerator, and at once they surged forward. Naught to sixty in eight seconds. That was what this car could do, and if Harry didnât quite manage it this time, they were halfway down the road before either of them had quite realized what had happened.
âThis is unbelievable!â Jason shouted.
âThis is cool!â Harry squealed.
The Kingâs Arms had become a speck in the rearview mirror. A minute later, the estate had vanished from sight. Harry was clinging onto the steering wheel as if he were afraid of being left behind. To look at him, you would have thought it was the car that was driving him rather than the other way around. Jason drummed his hands against the dashboard. For the moment, sheer excitement had swept away all his doubts.
Second gear, third gear, fourth . . . the faster they went, the more confident Harry became. They raced down a series of lanes, and before they knew it, they had come to a T-junction and the A1071 stretched out in front of them, leading either to Sudbury in the east or Ipswich in the west. Suddenly there was more traffic. A police car whizzed across them without slowing down, and the sight of it reminded Jason that this was a serious business. They had just stolen a twenty-five-thousand-dollar car. This would be more than probation if they were caught. This could be jail.
âWhere to, my man?â Harry asked. He sometimes talked in an American accent when he was really excited. He had picked it up from watching cop shows on TV.
âI donât care,â Jason replied. The truth was, he couldnât think of anywhere he wanted to go.
âNorwich?â
âYeah!â
âOr London . . .â
âHow much gas we got?â It was the first sensible thing Jason had said. When the car ran out of gas, they would have to dump it. Neither of them had enough money to fill the tank, and anyway, it would be too risky driving into a gas station.
âWe got a full tank,â Harry replied. He sniggered. âLetâs have a day at the seaside!â
âThe seaside!â Jason crowed. It was his way of agreeing.
Harry slammed his foot down and they shot onto the main road, bringing a blare of protest from a VW that had to swerve to avoid them. They had turned left, heading for Ipswich and the Suffolk coast. Almost at once they were doing seventy miles per hour. Grinning, Harry edged the speed up to eighty. Jason knew that he was being stupid. They had already spotted one police car and speeding would only bring attention to them. But as usual, he kept his thoughts to himself.
And anyway, he had something else on his mind. It was the mention of London that had done it. He had remembered what it was about the BMW that had struck a chord. Of course. How could he have forgotten? Bob Kirby.
âWow!â Harry breathed the single word and giggled.
âAwesome!â Jason agreed.
Harry turned the key and the engine fired instantly. Jason heard the soft splutter and felt the vibrations. Never in his whole life had he sat in a car like this. He couldnât stop himself from smiling. Just a few hours before, he had been lying in his bed with its dirty, wrinkled sheets, wondering how he would spend the rest of the day. And now this!
âLetâs get out of here, Harry,â he said. He wanted to move. He wanted to leave the estate before the carâs owner appeared and dragged them out. And there was still that something else nagging at the corner of his mind. A silvergray BMW. It had a significance. But what was it?
The car had six gears. Harry whipped it into first, pressed on the accelerator, and at once they surged forward. Naught to sixty in eight seconds. That was what this car could do, and if Harry didnât quite manage it this time, they were halfway down the road before either of them had quite realized what had happened.
âThis is unbelievable!â Jason shouted.
âThis is cool!â Harry squealed.
The Kingâs Arms had become a speck in the rearview mirror. A minute later, the estate had vanished from sight. Harry was clinging onto the steering wheel as if he were afraid of being left behind. To look at him, you would have thought it was the car that was driving him rather than the other way around. Jason drummed his hands against the dashboard. For the moment, sheer excitement had swept away all his doubts.
Second gear, third gear, fourth . . . the faster they went, the more confident Harry became. They raced down a series of lanes, and before they knew it, they had come to a T-junction and the A1071 stretched out in front of them, leading either to Sudbury in the east or Ipswich in the west. Suddenly there was more traffic. A police car whizzed across them without slowing down, and the sight of it reminded Jason that this was a serious business. They had just stolen a twenty-five-thousand-dollar car. This would be more than probation if they were caught. This could be jail.
âWhere to, my man?â Harry asked. He sometimes talked in an American accent when he was really excited. He had picked it up from watching cop shows on TV.
âI donât care,â Jason replied. The truth was, he couldnât think of anywhere he wanted to go.
âNorwich?â
âYeah!â
âOr London . . .â
âHow much gas we got?â It was the first sensible thing Jason had said. When the car ran out of gas, they would have to dump it. Neither of them had enough money to fill the tank, and anyway, it would be too risky driving into a gas station.
âWe got a full tank,â Harry replied. He sniggered. âLetâs have a day at the seaside!â
âThe seaside!â Jason crowed. It was his way of agreeing.
Harry slammed his foot down and they shot onto the main road, bringing a blare of protest from a VW that had to swerve to avoid them. They had turned left, heading for Ipswich and the Suffolk coast. Almost at once they were doing seventy miles per hour. Grinning, Harry edged the speed up to eighty. Jason knew that he was being stupid. They had already spotted one police car and speeding would only bring attention to them. But as usual, he kept his thoughts to himself.
And anyway, he had something else on his mind. It was the mention of London that had done it. He had remembered what it was about the BMW that had struck a chord. Of course. How could he have forgotten? Bob Kirby.
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