I stamped on the accelerator then jumped off the pedal, just for a moment. The car lurched forward on the rollers then rolled back. Before the car settled back entirely, I stamped on the power again then jerked my foot off.
Rags got in on the act. He dropped my shirt and threw his weight against the car to give it that little bump that could make all the difference. Blood poured from his uncovered wound.
‘That’s it!’ Rags yelled. ‘Faster now.’
The needle said I was doing seventy, but it wasn’t coming out of the rollers. I took the car up to eighty. The tyres whined on the steel rollers.
I stamped down on the accelerator then jumped off. The car rocked back and forth in the rollers even more. As its momentum brought it forward, I stamped on the accelerator again. The car climbed high in the rollers before dropping back down. This was it. One more time. That was all it would take.
‘You’re almost there,’ Rags said, before his words lost their strength. His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, sliding from view. I couldn’t stop now. Not when I was this close.
As the car bounced back down into the rollers and momentum rocked it, it lurched forward again. I buried the accelerator into the floor. The car lurched up the rollers and over the top. The second the wheels touched the ground, the tyres screeched on the concrete floor and the Honda rocketed forward and slammed into the corrugated siding. The impact snapped my teeth together, but the car burst through the wall, tearing a sheet of the siding off as it went. There was a ledge on the other side and the car dropped three feet before coming to an abrupt stop in the bushes. The deceleration hit me across the chest like a four by two. I tried to breathe but my body had forgotten how. It took a moment for it to remember again. I released my harness, flung open the door and rolled out. Fire lit up the hole I’d punched through the side of the building.
Steve and Dylan raced towards me with Claudia and Barrington close behind.
‘Get Rags. He’s just inside.’
Claudia and Barrington broke off towards the hole.
Steve yanked me up into his arms. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m OK.’ Those two words never sounded sweeter.
Last Lap
I was alone at home when DI Huston rang.
‘How are you doing?’
‘I’m fine.’
It had been four days since the fire at the Ragged workshop. The gash Crichlow had given me hadn’t been serious. Soft tissue only, according to the doctor, but it was annoying. Every time I moved or stretched, the two edges of the wound seemed to shift. I was still coughing out the smoke from the fire and I’d picked up a couple of second-degree burns under my chin and around my ankles. I’d also come away with a mild case of whiplash when I crashed my car. These injuries would keep me out of racing for a couple of weeks. Not that I had any racing to go back to. Ragged Racing was no more.
‘You up for a road trip?’ Huston asked.
‘Who’s driving?’
‘You. You’ll have to meet me here.’
‘Where are you?’
‘At that factory you told me belonged to Andrew Gates.’
‘I’m leaving now.’
I arrived at the factory to find Huston outside, leaning against her car. It had been a couple of days since I’d seen her. After the fire, Rags and I spent two days being questioned by HM Customs and the police from our hospital beds. Despite helping to identify a murderer and bringing down a drug-trafficking ring, no one seemed to be in a hurry to congratulate me. Oh, well. Huston opened my door and helped me out.
‘I’ve got something to show you,’ she said. ‘This way.’
Crime-scene tape crisscrossed the entrance to the factory. I felt uneasy at the thought of what she’d show me. I prayed it wasn’t a body. She snapped the tape and I followed her inside.
The area where Gates and Crichlow had interrogated me weeks earlier was staked out. A rust-coloured stain over four feet in diameter tainted the concrete floor.
‘Is that blood?’
‘Yes.’
I thought Rags had lost a lot of blood from his neck wound, but it paled in comparison to what had been lost here. I couldn’t imagine anyone surviving that amount of blood loss.
‘We’ve tested the blood. It’s the same blood type as Dominic Crichlow’s. It’ll be a while before DNA testing proves whether it’s his or not.’
No DNA testing was required. It was Crichlow’s. Gates had caught up with his brother’s killer and gotten his revenge. I winced at what Gates had done to spill so much blood.
‘Have you found a body?’ I asked.
‘No.’
And I doubted that they would. With all the properties Gates owned, what was left of Crichlow was likely propping up a foundation somewhere.
‘Have you spoken to Andrew Gates?’ I asked.
‘He’s an absentee landlord now, so I doubt we’ll get the chance.’
‘He’s gone?’
‘He, his family and his mother left the country on different flights to different countries the day after the fire.’
‘Where do you think they’ve gone?’
‘I’m sure they’re sunning themselves in a non-extradition country somewhere. We’ll find out which one eventually. Not that we’ll be looking too hard. It’s only the guilty preying on themselves. The innocent have already been avenged. We have what we need. The only question I have is, did you tip him off about Crichlow?’
‘No.’
‘Someone told him. Now, I wouldn’t blame you if you did after what Crichlow did to you.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Is that your official answer?’
‘It’s my only answer.’
She eyed me up, looking for a sign that would give me away. She wouldn’t find one. There wasn’t one to find.
‘OK. I had to ask.’ She had a file folder under her arm and held it out to me. ‘I thought you’d like to take a look at these.’
The file contained eight-by-ten photos of Crichlow, Rags and a bunch of men I’d never seen before. Some of the shots showed them stripping the wheels off the Ragged cars. Others showed the tyres being pulled off the rims and packets of white powder being loaded into bags. Several of the pictures were taken at the accident-repair garage in Milton Keynes. The rest were taken at places I didn’t recognize.
‘After a ton of man-hours, our techs managed to get these off Jason’s phone a few days ago. If you’d given me the phone when you’d found it, we could have prevented last night.’
It might have prevented the fire at Ragged, but it wouldn’t have prevented any of the other collateral damage associated with the case.
‘You might be interested to know that the crash centre you discovered belonged to Andrew Gates. I’m guessing we’ll find out that all these buildings pictured belong to Gates and that Crichlow was using them as a front. I think these pictures are what Crichlow was after the night he killed Jason. He was scrabbling to cover his arse. It would explain why he ransacked Jason’s flat and when you started getting close, he planted the razor on you.’
I’d guessed as much. Every time I updated Gates, I updated Crichlow. He knew my every step and so I made it easy for him to pull something to derail me.
‘Have you shared this with Barrington?’
She nodded.
I handed the folder back. ‘I’m sorry for all the trouble.’
‘You should be.’ A smile came with the put down. I saw the mother instead of the cop for once. ‘Stick to the driving in the future.’
‘I’ll do my best, but no promises.’
I left Huston to her crime scene and drove to Archway. I found Steve and Dylan at work on Gates’ cars. Now that Ragged Racing no longer existed, Dylan was back working for Steve. I broke the news that Gates had skipped the country while it was likely that Crichlow had skipped the planet.