ceiling.
—
I wasn’t aware of having slept, but when the knock came I suddenly realized my eyes were closed and I wasn’t fully dressed.
“Yeah?” I said.
Gary opened the door. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” he said. He waited till I nodded to demonstrate I’d understood, then shut the door again.
I swung myself out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress for a moment, trying to clear the sleep from my brain and figure out what I should do. Get to a phone somehow, obviously, and warn Amobi what was going down. But that had been impossible last night, and this morning would be no easier. What about doing a runner? If the Guvnor needed me around to make this meeting happen, maybe I could scuttle it, or at least delay it, by not being around. I glanced up again at the window. It was no wider than it had been the night before, and though I was pretty sure I could run faster than any of the Guvnor’s goons, I had nowhere to run. I could feelthe adrenaline building up in my system; maybe it would be better just to duck through the ropes into the ring and get this confrontation over with.
Gary returned as I was polishing off a bowl of cornflakes. I left the bowl on the table and he walked me back through the house to the garage. I didn’t head for the boot of the car parked there—a sleek silver Jag with darkened windows—because I didn’t fancy being brought to this fight like a dog in a cage. But that didn’t seem to have been Gary’s intention. He merely grunted at me to hold still, pulled a black cloth bag from his pocket and dropped it over my head. I didn’t resist but I didn’t offer to help, either. The hood was of a soft, thick material that allowed me to breathe but made it impossible to see my surroundings or even tell day from night. I heard a rear passenger door open and felt Gary’s hand on the top of my head, pushing me downwards, and I went with it. I shuffled along and settled into the seat; he bent over me, pulled the seat belt round my body and clicked it home.
I sat there for five or ten minutes, wondering who the last person was to have worn this hood. It smelled of soap, mostly, but there was also a subtle hint of vomit that the soap had failed to wash away. That wasn’t a pleasant or useful train of thought,so I focused instead on the meeting about to happen. If it was out in the open, in public, that meant I too would be out in the open, in public. I might get a chance to grab a passerby’s phone, call Amobi and raise the alarm…except of course it would be too late to summon the NCA by then. I still had the Turk’s number in my head—maybe I could call him at the last minute and warn him he was walking into a trap. But why the hell would I do anything to help the Turk?
I heard the connecting door to the house open again, and soon the garage was filled with a bustle of bodies, but there was little talk—no last-minute recaps or changes of plan for me to overhear. Everybody knew the strategy and understood their role. The driver’s door and the other passenger doors opened, and someone got in beside me. I knew instantly it was the Guvnor himself, from that expensive-smelling aftershave he liked to splash on. I heard the whine of the garage door opening and felt the gentle shudder of the Jag as the engine fired up; then we rolled out into the glorious morning I’d glimpsed earlier through the windows of the kitchen. I presumed it was still glorious—I couldn’t see a thing through the hood.
“Sleep all right?” the Guvnor grunted.
“Fine, thanks. You?”
He snorted at my familiarity. “Like a baby,” he said. “When we hit the M25 you can lose the hood. Won’t be long.”
We rode together for a while in silence, the car weaving, stopping and starting as it followed the lanes out towards the main road. Then we picked up speed and soon I could hear the hiss and roar of other vehicles we passed. I was about to ask for the radio to be turned on, but it
—
I wasn’t aware of having slept, but when the knock came I suddenly realized my eyes were closed and I wasn’t fully dressed.
“Yeah?” I said.
Gary opened the door. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” he said. He waited till I nodded to demonstrate I’d understood, then shut the door again.
I swung myself out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress for a moment, trying to clear the sleep from my brain and figure out what I should do. Get to a phone somehow, obviously, and warn Amobi what was going down. But that had been impossible last night, and this morning would be no easier. What about doing a runner? If the Guvnor needed me around to make this meeting happen, maybe I could scuttle it, or at least delay it, by not being around. I glanced up again at the window. It was no wider than it had been the night before, and though I was pretty sure I could run faster than any of the Guvnor’s goons, I had nowhere to run. I could feelthe adrenaline building up in my system; maybe it would be better just to duck through the ropes into the ring and get this confrontation over with.
Gary returned as I was polishing off a bowl of cornflakes. I left the bowl on the table and he walked me back through the house to the garage. I didn’t head for the boot of the car parked there—a sleek silver Jag with darkened windows—because I didn’t fancy being brought to this fight like a dog in a cage. But that didn’t seem to have been Gary’s intention. He merely grunted at me to hold still, pulled a black cloth bag from his pocket and dropped it over my head. I didn’t resist but I didn’t offer to help, either. The hood was of a soft, thick material that allowed me to breathe but made it impossible to see my surroundings or even tell day from night. I heard a rear passenger door open and felt Gary’s hand on the top of my head, pushing me downwards, and I went with it. I shuffled along and settled into the seat; he bent over me, pulled the seat belt round my body and clicked it home.
I sat there for five or ten minutes, wondering who the last person was to have worn this hood. It smelled of soap, mostly, but there was also a subtle hint of vomit that the soap had failed to wash away. That wasn’t a pleasant or useful train of thought,so I focused instead on the meeting about to happen. If it was out in the open, in public, that meant I too would be out in the open, in public. I might get a chance to grab a passerby’s phone, call Amobi and raise the alarm…except of course it would be too late to summon the NCA by then. I still had the Turk’s number in my head—maybe I could call him at the last minute and warn him he was walking into a trap. But why the hell would I do anything to help the Turk?
I heard the connecting door to the house open again, and soon the garage was filled with a bustle of bodies, but there was little talk—no last-minute recaps or changes of plan for me to overhear. Everybody knew the strategy and understood their role. The driver’s door and the other passenger doors opened, and someone got in beside me. I knew instantly it was the Guvnor himself, from that expensive-smelling aftershave he liked to splash on. I heard the whine of the garage door opening and felt the gentle shudder of the Jag as the engine fired up; then we rolled out into the glorious morning I’d glimpsed earlier through the windows of the kitchen. I presumed it was still glorious—I couldn’t see a thing through the hood.
“Sleep all right?” the Guvnor grunted.
“Fine, thanks. You?”
He snorted at my familiarity. “Like a baby,” he said. “When we hit the M25 you can lose the hood. Won’t be long.”
We rode together for a while in silence, the car weaving, stopping and starting as it followed the lanes out towards the main road. Then we picked up speed and soon I could hear the hiss and roar of other vehicles we passed. I was about to ask for the radio to be turned on, but it
Similar Books
