Castling (7 page)

“But to be honest, Rook, I was quite hoping.... you might consider...”

Inexplicably, Rook felt compelled to put the woman out of her misery. That almost never happened. In an instance of rare charity, he reached out and patted her forearm,

“Don’t worry Wendy! Y
ou’ll get your chance to stretch those legs, rest assured. If anything, I’ll be depending on you and Hinge’s ubiquitous voodoo funk-”

“You flatter me, sir” Hinge chimed
in, words etched in static. Rook continued,

“
- to keep me alive. And hopefully, in one piece. But until we get to that fun stuff, I really need to find out where this ruddy safe house is.

Now can one of you downstairs please check the next train to
Edinburgh?”

The kitchen
fell into stunned silence. Even Molly and TG looked up from their studies, mouths agape. Rook got the distinct impression he’d missed a beat. A feeling so uncommon it lingered in the memory.

“Don’t
tell me I can charge a taxi to the boss’ card!? Because I’ve been taking the train like a chump, ladies. A chump.”

TG broad shoulders heaved as she suppressed a
snigger, cooing “Ah Bless!” Molly’s hand flew up, slapping a seal around a toothy smile. Wendy reached across for her tea, positively beaming.

Slurping, she enquired,

“Why don’t you just take the helicopter?”

Rook’
s face slumped in a landslide of disbelief. Staggered, he sprayed vanilla across the kitchen floor,

“We have a chopper?!?!”

*

“We have a chopper?!?!”

Waking up on the floor that morning, mouth dry, temples
screeching, Rook hadn’t for a second entertained the notion his afternoon might be spent encased in reinforced glass, skimming the waters of Brittan’s east coast.

Their transport amounted to
little more than a pair of enormous turbines tethered to a half dozen chairs. Gyrating propellers, encased in articulate, plated superstructures, pivoted on twin axes for uncommon manoeuvrability. The turbines flanked a transparent, cylindrical canopy of toughened glass. The spacious cockpit could easily ferry six.

Or Gil and two others.

“That one still not sinking in, eh?”

Molly’s was a voice long a
cclimatised to such extravagance. The aircraft’s low hum contrasted the breaking waves beneath.

“Not yet no.
But in my defence...We have a chopper!”

He was right
, though. They did.

“
Of course we bloody well do, Rookie. How did you think we get around?”

“
I’ve
been taking the shitting tube, Molly!” Rook swore with real venom.

“Don’t make me laugh, we’ll crash.”

“
Not
the first time someone said that to me today...” He recalled a needlessly elaborate fiction concocted for the taxi driver earlier, explaining away his blood stained attire.

“Did you keep the tickets?” She asked, punching commands into her GPS.

“What?”

“Tickets for the Underground, you donkey! You keep ‘em?”

“...Oyster Card...”
Rook whimpered.

“I warned you.”
Molly laughed, purposely swerving the craft. Passenger safety wasn’t something she was overly concerned with. Behind her, Sabrina yelped as the port rotor dipped low. Ocean sprayed against the hull’s underside.

Their perpetual flirtation was annoying enough without the added possibility of plummeting to a fiery death.

“How can she afford it?” Rook enquired, blatantly ignoring the pilot’s warning not to play with assorted dials, knobs and switches.

“You’d be surprised the
kinds of things you can afford when you don’t, in fact,
pay
for them.”

“That cheeky whoore.
Who’d she rob then?  The French? Cubans? It was the Cubans, wasn’t it?”

Molly’s chin motioned to the dashboard. The chopper’s ancillary interface framed a red emblem with five yellow stars in it
s upper left. Beneath it, in embossed characters - C.A.P.

Chinese Army of Proto-humans.

Well,
Shit.

“I trust
the both of you realize you’re working for a crazy woman, yes?”

Intrigued,
and desperate to be included in their conversation, Sabrina leaned forward, gripping the headrest of the co-pilot’s seat,

“Shouldn’t that be
‘
we’re
working for’?”

“The Boss and I have... an accord.”
Rook dodged, showing herculean restraint in drawing his finger back from a red toggle ominously labelled ‘Countermeasures’.

“Don’t listen to him Sabs!” Molly
sneered, “He works for her same as us. If anything, right now, in this thriftily acquired Chinese aircraft,
I
have seniority.”

“
Seniority, is it?” Rook snorted, “How old are you again?”

“Twenty S
ix.”

Evidently, this was news to Sabrina.

“Really?
We’ll have to update our files. Scan for inaccuracies. We have you listed as twenty nin-”

“Uh, that’s enoug
h Sabs. You just sit back and enjoy the flight. There’s a good girl.”

For a long moment, the only sound within the canopy was the consistent drone of tilting engines. Molly could almost hear the
grin sneak along her co-pilot’s smug face.

“It’s alright Mol, you don’t look a day over thirty.”

“
That’s funny coz you look
just
like a jerk who should shut up and go away and leave me alone and shut up.”

“Not the first time someone
’s said
that
to me today either...” He couldn’t actually recall a specific instance. But chances were it happened. He had a way with people.

Still gripping his headrest, Sabrina cocked a brow and asked,

“Mr Rook?”

“
Please, it’s just ‘Rook’ Sabrina. I’m not married.”

“Uh
ok... Can you possibly explain what you’re expecting of each of us?”

Gripping the
lever under his seat, Rook pivoted until he faced both women.

“T
here’s a good possibility I can.

You and I are going to
share a few choice words with this Big Phil, during which you, Sabrina, will be at your persuasive best.

As soon as he reveals the location of this
eh, sanctuary to us, I contact Wendy. I suspect sprinting to this safe house won’t be beyond her. She’ll scour for weapons, traps, alarms, explosives, etc. I imagine Hinge might help in that regard.

With t
he location scrubbed clean by the time we arrive, Molly will take you and Wendy home. And there you will
wait
until Lancet and I are finished...eh... what’s a good euphemism for beating the crap out of each other?”

Molly was less than enamoured with the plan.

“Now just a minute! You’ll need a spotter,
someone
covering you, watching your back. And in this exact case I suggest from an adjoining building with a rail-gun or an RPG or an atomic-”

“No
.” Rook insisted, any suggestion of humour bled suddenly from his voice.

“It’s policy!
Not the nuclear thing but-”

“
Spotters have the nasty habit of
getting spotted.
What I need is to focus on getting the jump on this clown. I can’t very well do that with you lot breathing down my neck!”

Catching the
indignant expressions forming around him, Rook sought to elaborate,

“Guys, listen.
Don’t think all this help goes unappreciated. I’m all kinds of appreciative. We get this done there may even be a congratulatory High Five in it for you.

But t
his isn’t a few hoods in Tesco that I’ll brawl out of morbid curiosity while wrestling a hangover. This isn’t some senseless juicer who I’ll permit to bounce me off the ceiling just because I’ve never had the pleasure.

Side-note: It’s overrated.

This very,
very
bad man might just be the single most dangerous, most frightening being on the entire continent. And your sadistic employer, in her infinite wisdom, has assigned
me
the task of making him piss his pants.

As you can imagine, i
t’s probably one of those rare instances wherein my attentions are best undivided.”

This rationale sufficient
ly allayed Sabrina’s qualms. But Molly was neither meek nor inexperienced. Nor did she have the manners to simply let the subject drop.

“You’re not good enough. You’re out of practice.”

“I warmed up this morning.”

“We’ve all seen your stats.”

“The same stats Ron is currently re-guesstimating?“

“
He is going to kill you.”

“Then you won’t have to come back and get me.
Early night.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Do you like
anything,
Mol?”

“Some things.
Not this.”

“Molly...
” Rook began, his voice low, kindly, “I’ll be alright.... relatively speaking.”

“Believe it or not this right here, in this general area”
She angrily gestured to the wider area of her face, her right hand keeping the chopper level as it climbed, “This is my concern-for-the-mission face. Not my worried-for-the-unfathomably-conceited-egotist face. You’re asking me to trust you with a lot here.”

“
I’m
not asking you to trust me with anything. The Boss is.”

“That
is a good point.” Molly conceded, pondering. Sabrina deemed this as good a time as any to remind her superior that,

“
And she’s probably not
asking.”

“That is a better point!
” Molly readily agreed, calmed.

The tension diffused, Rook reclined, scratching his elbow as he swung his feet up onto the busy console before him.

“Well thank some assorted gods that’s settled! I was worried I’d be reduced to charming you there for a moment.”

“I was unaware you possessed any.”
A connoisseur of deception, Molly effortlessly buried her sarcasm.

“Some, but it’s not
pretty. There’s a reason I’ve not been sent to
seduce
Lancet.”

“
Now there’s a mental image I could have done without.”

As t
he GPS chimed, the mounds and knolls of Edinburgh’s sprawl clawed free of the horizon’s blue.

“Here we are. Any chance you can set us down
close by.”

“For
someone as funny as you Rookie, I can drop you
right
here...”

Rook cleared his throat. Being remarkably intelligent,
Sabrina swiftly fastened her seatbelt.

“
Ok, I’ve been working on this one, so be nice... Man walks into a bar. Says ouch.”

The engines cut.
The chopper plummeted.

*

The welcoming, unexpectedly accommodating launderette worker led them up the back stairs and toward Big Phil’s office. The middle-aged lady wished them both a wonderful day and returned to the warm, churning waft of soaked fabric and washing salts. Rook shot his accomplice a wry wink and turned the handle to the boss’ office.

Rook smiled as he stepped inside, eyes scanning the room. They didn’t have to work es
pecially hard. There was little within the office’s four corners beyond stained wall-paper and a framed inspirational poster.

Big Phil was
short and clean shaven. Suited in navy, he reclined with a cigarette. His flat-packed Ikea desk was topped with papers and miscellaneous stationary. The cramped confines hardly suggested a criminal entrepreneur who had made his fortune off the needs of an international fugitive.

“Mr Phil. Mind if I call you Big?”

The balding figure answered, drawing a gun from beneath the folds of his jacket. Sabrina inhaled sharply, tensing before the revolver’s barrel. Rook brushed her behind him with a protective sweep of his arm.

“Put down that gun, Big” Rook
ordered, his voice cool and level.

Aligning
the nozzle’s sights with the intruder’s forehead, Big Phil balanced his smoke on a nearby ashtray, cupping the pistol’s grip with a second hand,

“Why don’t you go ahead and make us?!”