Read Online Ethan Justice: Origins (Ethan Justice #1) by Simon Jenner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Simon Jenner
Ads: Link
charge and I stay on his tail. It feels like progress. I may get to call Sasha before the day is out. An exquisite shudder runs right through me.
*
Johnson’s phone vibrated. He answered.
“Where are they, Wilson?”
“We’re at Shepherd’s Bush underground station. Do you want me to take them out?”
The tall agent stared at his phone like it was an alien artefact. Everything he said to Wilson had fallen on deaf ears.
“No, keep on them, and I’ll be with you soon.”
Johnson ended the call and pulled away. He tapped a few buttons on the steering wheel, and ‘Ave Maria’ erupted from the impressive sound system. It was his favourite stress reliever. It was the first time he’d listened to it in five years.
*
At four o’clock Savannah and John exited Shepherd’s Bush Market underground station, turning right along the Uxbridge Road.
Traffic was bumper to bumper and pedestrians jostled to get in and out of the market opposite. Savannah had once worked in the well-known market, and she would have enjoyed saying hello to a few of her friends who still worked inside the thronging centre, but she needed Christos off her back more than she needed to catch up with old pals. Other than Wales, Shepherd’s Bush was where she had spent most of her life. She had never liked it enough to consider it home though, even when her mother had been alive.
John’s black waxed Barbour jacket was several sizes too big for her narrow frame. The shoulders were loose and the jacket was heavy but it kept the cold afternoon drizzle from her skin. John had thrown an old, dark blue, Marks & Spencer’s anorak on top of his hoodie. They must have looked quite the pair.
“We’ll sell the watch and then go to my bedsit so I can change,” she said, her arm linked through his as they walked beneath the street lamps which had already started to flicker into life, despite the official sunset being three hours away.
John had responded well to her kindness, especially having his head stroked, but she had to keep him focussed. He was her ticket out of the escort business, and the sooner she paid Christos the Greek, the sooner she could start over. Once she’d handed over the grand, she’d call the emergency services and get John taken into care. He needed psychological help, and probably quite soon, but not before she paid Christos. There was no other way she could help Smith, and she would be keeping her end of the deal, even if it wasn’t what he believed he had agreed to.
What sort of person goes around calling themselves John Smith and making up crazy stories about gruesome murders? At least he hadn’t shown any threatening behaviour, and somehow she sensed that he was more danger to himself than to her but decided it was best to be on her guard.
“John, are you okay with that?”
“Sure,” he said. “Sell the watch, go to your bedsit.”
Savannah sensed he was going into himself again, which could well mean another outburst was on its way. She had to stop his imagination from taking him over the edge. She wondered if he was on any medication and if he carried anything with him?
“Do you take any pills?” she asked. “For anything?”
“Like headaches, you mean?”
She wasn’t sure how to word her enquiry without arousing suspicion. “Yes ... or anything else?”
“I suppose the same as the next man. For hangovers and suchlike.”
“Nothing else?”
John’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean recreational drugs?”
“No. I don’t know what I meant. Just ignore me.” God, he seemed so normal sometimes. No wonder he’d been off the radar for so long. If she hadn’t witnessed the dramatic breakdown, she’d have thought him saner than her.
They spent the next five minutes in silence as they followed the straight stretch of the Uxbridge Road with its mixture of ethnic food takeaways and everything else from pharmacies to cash lenders, drycleaners and off licences. It truly was a world of its own, seeming like
*
Johnson’s phone vibrated. He answered.
“Where are they, Wilson?”
“We’re at Shepherd’s Bush underground station. Do you want me to take them out?”
The tall agent stared at his phone like it was an alien artefact. Everything he said to Wilson had fallen on deaf ears.
“No, keep on them, and I’ll be with you soon.”
Johnson ended the call and pulled away. He tapped a few buttons on the steering wheel, and ‘Ave Maria’ erupted from the impressive sound system. It was his favourite stress reliever. It was the first time he’d listened to it in five years.
*
At four o’clock Savannah and John exited Shepherd’s Bush Market underground station, turning right along the Uxbridge Road.
Traffic was bumper to bumper and pedestrians jostled to get in and out of the market opposite. Savannah had once worked in the well-known market, and she would have enjoyed saying hello to a few of her friends who still worked inside the thronging centre, but she needed Christos off her back more than she needed to catch up with old pals. Other than Wales, Shepherd’s Bush was where she had spent most of her life. She had never liked it enough to consider it home though, even when her mother had been alive.
John’s black waxed Barbour jacket was several sizes too big for her narrow frame. The shoulders were loose and the jacket was heavy but it kept the cold afternoon drizzle from her skin. John had thrown an old, dark blue, Marks & Spencer’s anorak on top of his hoodie. They must have looked quite the pair.
“We’ll sell the watch and then go to my bedsit so I can change,” she said, her arm linked through his as they walked beneath the street lamps which had already started to flicker into life, despite the official sunset being three hours away.
John had responded well to her kindness, especially having his head stroked, but she had to keep him focussed. He was her ticket out of the escort business, and the sooner she paid Christos the Greek, the sooner she could start over. Once she’d handed over the grand, she’d call the emergency services and get John taken into care. He needed psychological help, and probably quite soon, but not before she paid Christos. There was no other way she could help Smith, and she would be keeping her end of the deal, even if it wasn’t what he believed he had agreed to.
What sort of person goes around calling themselves John Smith and making up crazy stories about gruesome murders? At least he hadn’t shown any threatening behaviour, and somehow she sensed that he was more danger to himself than to her but decided it was best to be on her guard.
“John, are you okay with that?”
“Sure,” he said. “Sell the watch, go to your bedsit.”
Savannah sensed he was going into himself again, which could well mean another outburst was on its way. She had to stop his imagination from taking him over the edge. She wondered if he was on any medication and if he carried anything with him?
“Do you take any pills?” she asked. “For anything?”
“Like headaches, you mean?”
She wasn’t sure how to word her enquiry without arousing suspicion. “Yes ... or anything else?”
“I suppose the same as the next man. For hangovers and suchlike.”
“Nothing else?”
John’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean recreational drugs?”
“No. I don’t know what I meant. Just ignore me.” God, he seemed so normal sometimes. No wonder he’d been off the radar for so long. If she hadn’t witnessed the dramatic breakdown, she’d have thought him saner than her.
They spent the next five minutes in silence as they followed the straight stretch of the Uxbridge Road with its mixture of ethnic food takeaways and everything else from pharmacies to cash lenders, drycleaners and off licences. It truly was a world of its own, seeming like
Similar Books
