Outside Chance (45 page)

‘I don't know. We had a blazing row and he went out.' She led the way into the sitting room, which was shades of dusky pink, even down to the squashy leather suite. As she turned he could see she'd been crying. ‘Ben, Dad's seen the magazine.'

‘Oh, for God's sake! What did I tell you?' The stress of the last few minutes had taken its toll on Ben's temper.

‘It wasn't my fault! Ray overheard me talking to you, and he told him,' she said. ‘I didn't know till Dad came storming in.'

‘You didn't tell him where we're going?'

‘Ray must have told him.'

‘And when was this?'

‘About half an hour ago. I tried to ring you but your girlfriend said you'd already left. God, Ben! Your jacket's a mess.' She began to take it off him, and exclaimed, ‘It's ripped to shreds!'

Ben shrugged the jacket off, impatiently.

‘Tell me exactly what happened. What does your father know?'

‘Ben, you need a doctor.'

‘Not now, woman! Tell me what your father said.'

‘Don't shout at me! You need seeing to. Come into the kitchen.' She turned and walked away, forcing him to follow so he could hear as she went on talking.

‘When I got off the phone to you, Ray asked me who I'd been talking to. I just said it was a friend. So he said “It was Ben, wasn't it? Why's he picking you up? Where are you going?” And I told him to mind his own business. Anyway – sit down – I think he must've seen the magazine; I had it on my knee when I was talking to you.' She paused. ‘I've got some cotton wool somewhere.'

‘So he told your father?' Ben sat obediently on a stool at the breakfast bar, glancing around him at the white-painted kitchen units, chrome appliances and black and white floor tiles.

‘Yes. I think he must have rung him, because as soon as Dad got back he came straight over here.' She found cotton wool, antiseptic lotion and plasters in a cupboard, then half-filled a bowl with water and poured a generous capful of the lotion in, which turned the water cloudy. Ben eyed it with disfavour. In his experience, such liquids were liable to sting.

‘And what did he say?'

‘First of all he asked me what was going on. I wasn't going to tell him but then Ray showed him the magazine and, of course, I could see by his face he recognised the picture straight away, the same as I did. So then he tried to tell me it wasn't Stefan, and said I should leave well enough alone. Oh sorry! Did I hurt you?'

Ben shook his head. ‘No, that's all right, go on.'

‘Well, I told him it
was
Stefan, and that you'd spoken to him, and he was furious! He wanted to know what you'd got to do with it. He pointed to the magazine and said, “Is this where you think
you're going tonight?” and I said yes, we were, and that you knew Stefan – Nico – because you'd written the article. And then, it was weird . . .'

‘Yes?' Ben flinched again. ‘What was?'

‘Well, he went really quiet, and he just said, “
Did
he now?” It was worse really than when he was shouting.'

Ben groaned inwardly.

‘And then what?'

‘God, Ben. This looks awful! I never thought the dogs would go this far.'

Ben glanced at what he could see of his right shoulder and arm. It wasn't pretty, that was for sure; bruised, lacerated and oozing.

‘I'll get it looked at tomorrow,' he promised. ‘Just slap a bit of lint on it and stick it down. I don't want to keep Nico waiting too long. Where's your father now?'

‘Well, I don't know, exactly. He said to Ray, “I suppose I can rely on you to take care of things here,” and when Ray asked him what he was going to do, he just said, “I've got to see a man about a horse.” It was odd, really. Didn't seem to make much sense after everything else.'

‘Oh, I'm afraid it does,' Ben said grimly. ‘Look, we have to go. This'll have to wait.'

‘Just let me stick this on, then,' Helen said, placing a wad of lint over his shoulder and sticking the edges down with tape.

Ben thanked her through gritted teeth and stood up, swaying slightly. The combination of white kitchen, bright fluorescent lighting and Helen's ministrations was making him feel unpleasantly muzzy.

‘Well, you can't put this on again,' she observed, holding up the fleece jacket, which now sported vast ragged holes in the shoulder, back and sleeve.

‘What the hell's going on here?'

They hadn't heard Finch come in, but now he stood in the kitchen doorway, his brow thunderous.

‘I think you know exactly what's been going on,' Ben stated, turning a little unsteadily to face him. ‘Because it was you who let the dogs out, wasn't it?'

‘Nonsense. You can't prove that. I've just been out to check on them and they're exactly where they should be.'

‘Yeah, thanks to Mikey.'

‘I'm just getting Ben something to wear, and then we're going,' Helen told her husband, her face pink with defiance. She pushed past him and disappeared.

‘He's not having any of my fucking clothes!' Ray shouted after her then turned back to Ben. ‘Not much point in you going – you'll be too late. Eddie's gonna fuckin' cream your Hungarian buddy.'

‘Oh, I don't think so. He's not been gone long and he won't know where he's going. We'll probably get there first.'

‘He's got the magazine, hasn't he? Gives all the venues. And I can tell you, he won't go alone.'

Ben thought of Spence and his mate, and of Nico waiting, unknowing and alone, on the deserted camping ground.

His mobile was in the car. He swore and Finch chuckled.

Helen returned, pulling on a coat and holding out a jumper and leather jacket to Ben.

‘Here. I think the jacket might be yours, actually. You left it at Dad's. I don't know what it's doing up here.'

Ben took it and turned it over in his hands, frowning. The hemline and lower part of the sleeves were scratched and dirty and, in several places, bore small puncture marks. The light dawned.

Glancing up quickly he was just in time to catch Finch smirking, and something snapped inside.

‘You vicious bastard!' he exclaimed and, taking a short step forward, aimed his fist slap-bang in the middle of the smirk.

Finch staggered back, crashing into the kitchen door, which swung freely, depositing him with a crash amongst a pile of crockery on the drainer.

‘Ben! What're you doing?' Helen stood with a hand to her mouth, shocked.

‘Ask your bastard of a husband! Ask him why the dogs were half-mad to get at me, and then look at my jacket.'

‘Ray?' Helen's tone pleaded for some reasonable explanation.

Finch ignored her. He straightened up, heedless of the plates that slid into the sink and on to the floor as he did so. His nose was bleeding freely, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. He looked at the resulting smear and sniffed.

‘I hoped they'd fucking kill you!' he spat. ‘Comin' in here; suckin' up to the Guvnor; telling everybody what to do – who d'you think you
bloody are? Well, he's wise to you now, I can tell you!' He wiped his face and sniffed again. ‘If you've broken my nose, I'll sue you!'

Ben gave him a withering look and pulled the jumper on over his head, making sure his vision wasn't impeded for more than a second. He didn't rate Finch's courage very highly but just at the moment he wouldn't want to turn his back on him. The jacket sat a little tightly over the wadding on his shoulder but he was feeling better all the time, and the satisfaction of delivering Finch's comeuppance had given him a real high.

‘Come on, Missus. We need to hurry,' he told Helen, who was still looking at her husband as if he'd grown two horns and a tail. ‘I want to try and get Nico on the phone to warn him.'

‘You can use ours.'

‘Except that I don't know his number. It's in my mobile's memory, and that's in the car.' He started for the door. ‘Oh, and if you still want your keys, I should ask your husband. I think you'll find he's got them. A little delaying tactic to stop you coming down to meet me, unless I'm much mistaken.'

They reached the car to find Mikey waiting in the back with a holdall on the seat beside him. He was bubbling over with questions but Ben cut through them.

‘Not now, Mikey. I've got a call to make.'

Retrieving his phone from the glove compartment, he keyed in Nico's number. It didn't even ring. A message from the network provider informed Ben that the person he'd called was
not available and invited him to leave a message.

‘Damn! We'll have to try again in a minute.'

Ben handed the phone to Helen and gunned the engine.

‘Do you know exactly where we're going?' she asked as he backed up and then accelerated down the drive.

‘Yeah, I was there the day before last.'

‘But . . . haven't you finished the article, now?'

‘Yes, I have, but we've become friends.'

There was silence for a moment as Ben negotiated the junction with the road. He pulled away, pushing each gear to its limit and wishing it were a sports saloon instead of a four-wheel-drive.

‘Have you told him about Stephen?'

‘Not yet. I wanted to ask the boy first. But it's up to you, of course.' He threw a glance at Helen, who looked pensive.

‘Yes, I suppose so,' she said. ‘I'm not sure what I'll do.'

‘Well, for now,' Ben said, overtaking a slow-moving truck, ‘I suggest you try and get Nico again. If your father gets to him first you may have to visit him in hospital.'

‘No, Daddy's not like that!' she protested. ‘He loses his temper and shouts sometimes, but he wouldn't actually hurt anyone.'

‘He doesn't need to. He's got men to do that for him.'

Concentrating on the road, Ben nevertheless sensed her staring at him. There had never been much affection between them but he had an idea he was rapidly exhausting any there might have been.

‘Look, just ring, will you?'

She pushed buttons and waited.

‘Answerphone again,' she reported after a moment, with a touch of childish triumph.

‘OK; press the phonebook button, scroll through and find Mark Logan. See if you have any better luck with that. If you do, I'll speak to him.'

‘Who's he?'

‘A friend of mine – he's a policeman.'

‘But what about Dad?'

‘If he's as blameless as you say he's got nothing to worry about, has he?' Ben observed reasonably.

As it turned out, Logan was unreachable too and, although they kept trying both numbers at regular intervals, Ben had a horrible feeling that he was all the cavalry Nico was going to get. That wasn't good. Driving the Mitsubishi close to its limits, his attention divided between checking his rear-view mirror for police patrol cars and scanning the road ahead for speed cameras, he was really beginning to feel the effects of Kaiser and Rommel's attentions.

He made the journey, without undue incident, in well under an hour; nearly twenty minutes less than it usually took. Though he wasn't one hundred per cent sure he wouldn't be getting a speeding ticket through the door at Dairy Cottage in the next week or two.

Helen had finally managed to get Logan about a quarter of an hour earlier and passed the phone to Ben.

‘Mark? I've got a problem. Truman's found out about Nico and I'm pretty sure he's on his way to confront him.'

‘Look, Ben, I'm not sure I can help you. I'm on duty this evening and I've been seconded to Swindon.'

‘Swindon?'

‘Yeah, but I'm out near Chippenham at the moment.'

Ben's spirits soared.

‘Excellent! Nico's been camped near Bath. You're only ten minutes away.'

‘I've got company,' Logan warned.

‘In this case, the more the merrier,' Ben assured him. ‘So has Truman.'

‘OK, give me details. We'll be finished here in five and get there a.s.a.p.'

Now, as Ben drove through the gateway on to what had been the Csikós camping ground and caught a distant glimpse of at least three vehicles in the headlights, he felt Logan couldn't come any too soon.

Finally meeting the kind of ground it was designed for, the Mitsubishi tore across the sloping field effortlessly, though the ride was by no means smooth. With the seat bumping against one side of Ben's shoulder and the seat belt pressing on the other, it was an experience he could have done without but, judging by the low-voiced ‘Wow!' from the rear seat, Mikey, at least, was enjoying it.

There was obviously no possible element of surprise, so Ben opted for the bull-in-a-china-shop approach. As they drew closer, his headlights showed Gyorgy's catering wagon pulled up against the hedge, effectively boxed in, with Truman's Range Rover parked across its nose
and a big saloon car at the back. The scene was partially lit by the lights on the side of the wagon, and there were at least five people present, in two groups – one person sitting or lying on the ground – but Ben couldn't make out who was who until he was almost upon them.

Gritting his teeth, he drove between the two sets of people, maintaining his speed until the last moment and then jamming the brakes on hard. The vehicle skidded a little on the frosty grass, coming to a halt only inches from the nearest figure which, fittingly enough, turned out to be Truman himself. Yelling to Helen and Mikey to stay put, Ben leaped out and ran towards the trainer.

A few yards away a heavily built man was using a mattock to batter Gyorgy's wagon. The tyres, windscreen, and serving window had already fallen victim, and he'd started on the bodywork with devastating effect. Inside the van, Ben caught sight of another man at work.

Recovering from the fright of his near miss, Truman sneered.

‘Come to watch?' he enquired, raising his voice to be heard above the noise of the demolition.