I said, 'Treader, we're not going to get any help. They changed their minds.'
'I see.' Trying to sound cool. He knew the score now, too.
Stink of burning rubber coming into the car, I hate that smell, gets on your guts, shot and the rear window frosted over as the slug came through and drilled a hole in the roof, he wasn't firing wild, I think, it was just that the limo was lurching about quite a bit, difficult target at sixty mph with the steering affected. Siren again and this time ahead of us, a patrol car picking up the Honda call from the despatcher and turning south, its lights starting to colour the polished surfaces inside the limo and the siren growing louder. I didn't think it would ignore a limo doing this speed with a burst tyre so I spoke to Treader again.
'Listen, I want you to ditch me. Look for an alley between the buildings or the gates of a yard or a car park -' bright lights now as the police car saw us and started a U-turn with the siren howling – 'anywhere with enough cover to let me run, all right?'
He said he'd do what he could and I found the little chrome lever and got the right-hand door unlocked and waited, pulling out my handkerchief and wrapping it round my right hand, waited, watching the coloured lights reflecting from the inside of the windows, waited, holding my breath against the sickening reek of rubber, sweat on the left hand, the phone slippery with it, waited until Treader told me to get ready and I signalled Ferris that I was making a run and pitched sideways against the division as the brakes came on and the tyres whimpered and we lurched once, twice as he lost the front end and dragged it straight again as the burst tyre came off the rim and the metal screamed on the tarmac and I heard Treader's voice in the background.
'Ditching.'
Pulled the door-lever and hit the door and went through as it swung wide and I rolled into the ukemi with the edge of my right hand making contact with the pavement and the arm and shoulder following and then the whole body curving into the roll and coming out of it with my feet to the ground and enough balance to get me running.
He'd found an alley for me and I checked the environment as I ran because I didn't want to present a silhouette against the lights of the street at the far end: it was a mess back there and I didn't know if Proctor or the man in the Mazda had seen me leave the car but if they'd seen me they'd follow me on foot and I wouldn't have more than a fifty-yard lead and there were high walls here and no cover that could shield me if he came close enough to use his gun.
The alley looked endless ahead, the length of a city block, with the lights of the next street making a bright niche in the shadows. I didn't turn my head to look behind me because it would slow me and if I saw Proctor coming there was nothing I could do – he'd have ample time to break his run and go into the aiming stance and make sure of the shot, shadow down, the slug ripping into the back of the dinner jacket and shattering the spine and leaving the nerves in catastrophic disarray, the muscles of the legs cut off from the brain and the body tilting forward, shadow down.
I was nearing the street ahead but the scene in the mind's eye had brought fear with it and I had to look behind me and I saw nothing, no movement anywhere in the whole length of the alley, so I slowed a little as the brightness of the street came flooding against me and a car slid to a stop with its tyres squealing and a door coming open.
Mazda.
Chapter 20: MONIQUE
'You don't trust my driving?'
'It's not that,' I said.
Buckle wouldn't work.
'You know something? I bet I dropped a dime down there in the slot. I'm always doing it.' She leaned towards me, scent of patchouli. 'Hit it. Hit it like this.' A ripple of laughter, 'See what I mean? You can keep it, buy yourself a yacht.'
I got the buckle fixed and sat back and pulled it tight and tried to think.
'Ride around a little?'
'That would be nice.'
She turned left again at the lights, driving cleanly, sitting there in her black leather skirt and tunic, gold belt, rings on her fingers and long gold nails, tiny feet half-naked in gold sandals poised over the pedals, the curve of her body cut like a black crescent moon.
'Monique, I believe it was.'
'That's right.'
'What happened,' I asked her, 'to the Honda?'
I wanted to know where we stood.
'He got him kinda shunting. George Proctor is a real mean man. He got him kinda shunting and then I think the guy in the Honda must have swung the wheel at the wrong time and he wasn't going too slow and bingo, he went rolling like a barrel. Who was he?'
'A friend of mine.'
'He in drugs too?'
'No.'
'He was trying to look after you, right? Didn't want Proctor to get you.'
'You could say that.'
'Proctor's real mad at you, right? You cut off his supplies or what?'
'I'm not a dealer,' I said.
'Nothing like that.' I watched the flash of her smile reflected in the windscreen. 'That's why Nicko was going to feed you to the sharks.'
'Thank you,' I said, 'for trying to stop him.'
'Usual way,' she said, 'I don't give a shit if a dealer gets his, providing of course he's not working for Toufexis. But the execution thing, I dunno, it kind of involves judgement, right? Kind of coldblooded, different from just some guy gets in the way of an AK-47 and kerboom. You British?'
'Yes.' She still hadn't answered the question. It hadn't had anything to do with judgement.
Is this the guy? Nicko, pushing his flashlight against my face.
No.
Don't give me that shit! Shaking the photograph in her face.
I haven't seen him before.
Well Jesus Christ this is the face of the guy in the photograph!
You'd better take care, Nicko, she said. Don't kill too many.
Her face hidden by the glare of the flashlight, but I'd caught the scent of patchouli.
'So why did you get in the car?' She was watching my face, too, in the windscreen.
'Which car?'
'This one.'
'I didn't have time,' I said, 'to find a taxi.'
'With Mr Proctor right up your ass!'
'That's right.'
'So what's a Britisher doing over here in God's country, muscling in on the game?'
'It's like calling you an Americaner, which sounds awful, don't you think? A British subject is actually a Briton.'
'You real cool cat,' tossing her head back, laughing, the big gold earrings flashing as they swung. 'So what's a Briton doing over here messing around on our home ground?'
She swung the wheel and gunned up through the intersection with an expertise that I found sexy. 'I work for the Foreign Office in London,' I said, 'and the reason why Nicko intended to kill me was because Proctor had asked your friend Toufexis to put out a contract on me, as you know.'
'Maybe I do, maybe I don't.' Not smiling now.
We were going very carefully, she and I. As far as I knew she worked for Toufexis and looked capable enough of making a hit if I said something wrong, despite her alleged aversion to making judgements. As far as she knew I was opposed to Proctor and Toufexis to the point where they'd put a price on my head.
'Foreign Office,' she said. 'What's that?'
'State Department.'
'See your ID?'
And the tone was unmistakable. I gave her my card.
'Looks authentic,' she said. 'Could even be.'
I took it back. 'You can flash your badge,' I said. 'I won't tell Toufexis.'
'What badge?'
Said it too fast.
Watching me in the windscreen, 'You know what I find so interesting about you? First time I see you, it's in George Proctor's place, visiting. Next thing, he vanishes like a bunny with a bee in his ass. Then you're down there on Quay 19 and Nicko's going to cream you, execution style, which is the only way he knows. Next thing, I see you tonight in that place talking with the highest-paid anchorwoman in the US of A like you knew each other all your lives, when you shoulda been out there in the ocean feeding the sharks. I don't get time to catch my breath before La Cambridge is lying dead on the ground just a hundred feet from where you're standing, just like you were the spotter for those guys, ain't actually saying anything. Then before I can blink you're tooling through the town in a limo with Proctor drilling holes in the bodywork, busy as a riveter. So I find you a very interesting man.'