The Deadly Game(45)

Shorty looked at Jake thoughtfully, and then moved away, taking out his mobile phone as he did so. He called up a number, and when it answered said, ‘It ain’t where he said it was. He reckons someone else took it. He’s given us a few names of other outfits that he says are looking for it and he reckons one of them must have snaffled it.’ Shorty then listened for a while, before answering: ‘He could be lying, or it could be gone. What d’you want us to do?’ He listened a bit more, before saying, ‘OK.’ Then he hung up his phone.

The Boxer looked at Shorty enquiringly.

‘The pigs?’ he asked.

Shorty nodded.

‘Lucky old pigs,’ he said, and grinned.



They untied Jake from the chair, and then tied his wrists together and took him outside, where they dumped him in the back seat of the car. Shorty got behind the wheel, and the Boxer slid into the passenger seat. He showed Jake the gun.

‘Try any funny business and you’ll get a bullet,’ he said. ‘And it won’t be in the leg.’

‘Yes.’ Shorty nodded. ‘For whatever reason, our boss seems to think you might be telling the truth. Which means you’re no use to him any more. So you’re for the chop.’

The way that Shorty said the words in such a casual way made Jake go cold as ice. They’re going to kill me! They’re going to take me somewhere and kill me! But, why not do it here?

Shorty started the car engine and turned to look back at Jake.

‘Just in case you get any fancy thoughts about jumping out, the back doors are fitted with child-proof locks. All very safe.’

They’re hoping I’ll talk, thought Jake. That’s why they’re not killing me straight away. They’re going to drive around and hope I’ll crack and tell them where the book is. I’ve still got a chance.

But Shorty’s next words, as the car moved off along an alleyway to join the main stream of traffic, crushed that hope.

‘In case you think this is just to frighten you into telling us where the book is, you can forget it,’ said Shorty. ‘Our boss believes you. Personally, I don’t. But then, that’s just me. So he says we’re to get rid of you.

‘Now, I expect you’re wondering why we didn’t just kill you back in the garage? Well, the fact is, a dead body has to be disposed of, and that ain’t as simple as people think, especially in a crowded city like London. So we’ve got an arrangement with a friend of ours out in the country who’s got a pig farm. Pigs are great, they’ll eat anything.’

‘Especially if it’s shredded up into small bits,’ added the Boxer.

‘And luckily our friend has got a really big industrial shredder at his farm,’ said Shorty.

‘It shreds Christmas trees.’ He grinned. ‘Guess what it can do to you.’

They are going to kill me, Jake realised. This wasn’t just a bluff. He also realised that even if he had told them where the book was, they would have killed him, anyway. He’d seen their faces, he could identify them.

The car had left the city now and was out in the suburbs, heading towards woodland and open fields. The garage must have been right at the very east end of London, close to Essex.

There has to be a way to stop this happening, thought Jake. I’m going to die, anyway, if I don’t try something. He looked at the road ahead, at the vehicles hurtling towards them on the other side of the road, then past them. No barriers, just fast traffic in two directions. No crash barriers at the sides of the road either, just countryside: woodlands on this side of the road.

Jake fought to keep down the feeling of panic rising in him. Attack them. That’s the only way. Make the car crash. They might kill me as I try, but at least I’ll have a chance. And, if I get killed in the car crash, I’ll take them with me.

He tensed himself, took a deep breath, and suddenly he jerked forward, his tied hands raised up, and then dropped them down over Shorty’s head. He pulled back hard, the rope biting across the front of Shorty’s throat. Taken by surprise, Shorty let go of the steering wheel and reached up to his neck, his hands clawing at the rope as Jake pulled back even harder, choking him.

The Boxer turned, a horrified look on his face, but he was too late.

The whole action had taken barely a second, but already the car was out of control, veering to the left, straight for the trees at the side of the road.

SMASH!!

The car hit a tree head-on, and as it did so the air bags at the front exploded, smothering the two men in the front seats.

Jake ripped his tied hands upwards, tearing them across Shorty’s face.

The impact of the collision had sprung all the car doors open, and Jake scrambled out. He saw that the Boxer’s gun had fallen from his hand and was lying on the ground near the open door. The Boxer was struggling with the air bag, trying to get clear of it.