Jamie was mobile enough to climb back up unaided, though he was still pale and unsteady when we reached the top. The rest of the crowd parted silently and let us pass. Anyone who was thinking of mounting a challenge took one look at our set faces and quickly changed their mind. We hurried through them back to the bikes.
The Devil’s Bridge Club had left their machines scattered across the hard shoulder near where Sean and I had stopped. Now we all jumped back on board, Jamie climbing on behind William, who handed him his helmet.
We took the couple of seconds required to plug our radio headsets back in before we all jammed our lids on and fired up the motors. As we pulled away I looked back over my shoulder, down towards the Merc van.
The flames had died back and mostly gone out as the petrol exhausted itself. The paint was blackened around the front end and had largely burned away from the glass where Daz had scored his direct hit on the windscreen.
The bystanders who’d gone to help were clustered around the driver but their movements seemed uncertain, as though they’d very little idea of what to do for him. He was going to need years of plastic surgery – if he survived. And we’d done that to him.
I tried to feel sorry, but it wasn’t something that came easy.
“So, what do we do now?” It was Daz who voiced the question over the radio and I realised that we hadn’t talked about what happened after we intercepted the van. All our efforts had been focused on getting Jamie back.
“We head for the next ferry,” Sean said, pulling out smoothly to overtake a farm tractor, getting back into a rhythm. “Any ideas, William?”
“We’ve missed the Belfast to Heysham boat, but there should be one coming in to Larne in less than an hour,” William said after a moment’s consideration. “I know the guys on board and they should be able to squeeze us onto it. That’ll take us across to Troon.”
“Good enough,” Sean said. “Anywhere away from here will do.”
Compared to our earlier pace, we rode almost sedately round the outskirts of Belfast and headed up the A2 for Larne. I was bringing up the rear of the group and all the way I had one eye on my mirrors, watching for signs of pursuit. None came.
By the time we dropped down into the harbour at Larne and saw the reassuring bulk of the ferry waiting there, I couldn’t help a small sigh of relief. As William had predicted, he was a known face to the ticketing staff at the gate. He negotiated our way on board without any real fuss and the bikes were slotted in to one side of the car deck
“Might be a rough crossing today,” one of the crew told us. “We’ll make sure they’re well strapped down for you.”
We clattered our way up the metal staircase to the passenger deck and William led the way towards the First Class lounge at the stern, charming his way in with a friendly greeting to the smartly-uniformed woman in charge.
“You’re lucky – we’re so quiet today I think you’ll have the place to yourselves, William,” she said. “I think everybody’s heard the weather forecast and decided to give it a miss.”
“Thanks, Jo,” William said gratefully, dumping his helmet onto the nearest table. “I think we could do with some peace.”
“Busy trip, huh?” she said brightly.
“Yeah,” he said, giving her a tired smile, “you could say that.”
I pulled out my mobile, only then noticing I’d missed three calls during the mad ride up from the south. When I checked, all of them were from Jacob. I tried calling him back but his answering machine cut in. I left him a brief message to say Jamie was safe and we were on our way back.
After the adrenaline rush of action that had pumped up our systems ever since we’d gone chasing away from Mondello Park, the climb down left all of us slow and lethargic. I was aware of a creeping headache starting up from the back of my neck and I rolled my shoulders, trying to relieve the pressure.
Only Sean still looked wired, keeping an eye on the door and reacting minutely every time it opened and the cabin crew bustled about their pre-sailing tasks. It wasn’t until the bow doors had shut and the vibrations through the deck picked up to signal we were moving off that he seemed to relax a fraction.
“Is that it?” Paxo demanded softly, glancing at him. “Is it over?”
Sean returned the look without smiling. “Oh no,” he said dryly. “It’s only just beginning. We’ve left a trail of bodies halfway up the damned country. Whether we were actually responsible for them or not, the fallout from this is going to be practically nuclear.”
Paxo just groaned and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against his seat.
I turned to find William watching me intently.
“What?” I said. “What have I done?”
“I don’t know how you can ask that,” William said quietly, “after what you did back there.” His eyes flicked to take in Sean as well. “Either of you.”
“We did what was necessary,” I said, a bit sharper than I’d intended but I was getting past caring. “What would you rather we’d done?” I went on, jerking my head in Jamie’s direction. “Left him?”
“I’m not talking about that,” William said, still in that infuriatingly even tone. “We watched you break a guy’s arm – his elbow – just like that.” He clicked his fingers. “Like it was nothing. What would you have done if they’d broken Gleet’s leg instead?”
“I didn’t plan it that way.” I let my breath out through my nose. “Besides, these were not nice people we were dealing with, William,” I said, trying to hold back my temper. “You give them an inch and they’ll take your bloody head off. You can’t play by the same rules as everyday life. They just don’t work.”
William looked wholly unconvinced. “I was right about you, Charlie,” he said, a little sadly. “You’re one scary girl.”
He stood and headed for the door but was barely halfway there when Sean’s voice stopped him.
“You can’t do that do her,” he said and I was surprised to hear the thread of underlying anger. “You can’t pick Charlie up when you need her and throw her down again when you’re done.” He met my eyes and I saw a challenge there that was not just intended for William, but maybe for me as well. “We’re who we are. What we are. And, like it or not, you needed someone like us to sort out the mess you’d got yourselves into. Don’t lay your guilt on us now it’s done.”
William didn’t immediately respond, just paused a moment, ducked his head in a way that was neither acceptance nor denial, then pushed the door open and walked out.
Daz stood, too, looking awkward. “Look, we know what you’ve done for us. We’re just not . . . used to this like you are,” he said, hunching his shoulders. “Shit, I’m still shaking to think about it. I’m going to wake up seeing it for months. You two just look like this is, well, normal for you. I’ll talk to him.” And with that, he went after William.
As Daz pushed open the door, he nearly collided with a woman who was just walking in. He stepped round her without looking and kept going, but as Sean and I recognised her we both came to our feet, tense.