The Man In The Grey Suit
It began to rain, large, fat drops of water, impregnated with ice and snow, as the grey hulk of the city rose up before the bus. Concrete, steel and glass, the latter reflecting only the dark slate colour of the winter day, loomed above the highway, blotting out everything else like a diseased Oz whose emerald tones had bleached sickly away leaving behind a grey, ash-like pallidness that absorbed the spirit.
Alex saw the sleet, watched as it scarred the window beside him like bugs hitting a windscreen, their bodies crashing against the glass leaving a dark smear of life to stain the vision of the road ahead. He shivered involuntarily, not relishing the cold and damp that he hoped the next few minutes would yield to him, then shivered again. Cold and damp would be fine in view of the alternative.
He stared out the sleet-stricken window, but the view revealed little. The bus had entered the city boundaries and the road was crowded by shops and businesses, cramped together, old and the worse for wear many of them, crumbling brick and grimed windows. Here on the outskirts of the city, there would not be much passing trade and the stores were closed. Shoppers would swarm like ants through the main precincts, sales would have begun, the streets in the centre would be jammed. All Alex had to do was get there.
The noise of the engine altered and Alex felt the bus turn. He sank lower in his seat, trying almost, to disappear from the sight of searching eyes. The grey, sleet clouded day was blanked out by a tunnel as the bus drove through it and into the belly of the depot.
The holiday was over, and Madeleine Whyte, for one, was grateful. She hated the holidays, especially Christmas. People everywhere, grinning inanely, full of good cheer and festive spirit. False sentimentality spilling out of mouths as fast as strong alcohol was poured into them. She hated it!
She hadn’t always. There was a time when she had adored the holiday season as much as anyone. As a child, Christmas had been a time of endless joy. The memories flashed behind her eyes like snapshots. She remembered opening presents, tearing through beautiful, shiny gift-wrap, tugging at delicate ribbons and bows. Gorging herself on chocolates and sweets with the determination only a child can muster. She remembered the treasure hunts that Daddy always arranged for her and her sister, one each. The prize at the end unimportant, a lesser present than those stacked under the huge tree, but in many ways always the best present, the fun and the excitement building with the discovery of each clue.
The Christmases of childhood blended together now with the distance of time, she never thought of a particular year as being more special than any other, they were all special. But that was a long time ago, and memories were all now that those childhood years were. And at Christmas, the memories were unwanted. Intruders that crept, like thieves in the night, stealing into her heart and taking another piece of it away. These days there wasn’t much left to take. If only Doug were here… The thought crashed upon the stony ground of her soul in much the same way that the aeroplane carrying Doug himself had crashed into the side of a mountain three years ago, leaving her widowed before her thirtieth birthday after little more than two years of perfect wedded bliss.
Accidental death. That was what the inquest determined. Two days of evidence and a third full of summation and verdict. The weather had been worse than bad, the storm coming out of nowhere. A bolt of lightning, instrumentation failure, nobody’s fault.
Accidental death. Two words that couldn’t begin to describe the devastation. There had only been one body, found torn and battered among the wreckage, but there had been two deaths that day for when Doug died, she felt that she too had had her life ended.
She’d thought about following him constantly in the months ahead, but never had the courage to go through with the actions that were conjured up in her mind and knew now that she never would. Still, there was never a time, not a day, not an hour, not a second, when she did not think of him. Even when she was lucky enough to have something distract her from her thoughts, he was there at the back of her mind. Whenever the distraction passed she felt suddenly guilty, as if she had committed a mortal sin by not being consumed by her feelings of loss.
No chance of that happening at this time of year, of course. Doug had proposed to her on Christmas Day. Down on one knee, grasping hold of her left hand in his own and gently sliding the ring onto her finger, telling her how much he loved her as he slipped the large solitaire over her knuckle. Her eyes had filled with tears and her heart with joy.
Madeleine brushed irritably at her eyes as she felt the hot pricking of tears at the memory. No, no chance at all of forgetting at this time of year. God, she hated Christmas!
Her sister sat beside her and her mother and father were in back as she drove them to the bus depot. The journey home was over three hundred miles, her father was not the driver he used to be and flying down to see Madeleine was not an option, she would not allow it.
“Are you alright?” Her sister saw her swipe the unshed tears from her eyes. The car had been quiet, there being little talk during the drive, Madeleine lost in her memories, her family, wanting to lift her out of her depression but not knowing how, had long become accustomed to leaving her to her inner thoughts.
“I’m fine, Anna,” she answered looking at her sister, twitching her lips in the approximation of a smile, “just sad to see you going home so soon.”
Anna nodded but said nothing, she knew her sister did not mean what she said. Madeleine knew she knew. It wasn’t that she did not love her family, she did, but she always felt her loss more keenly when they were around her. Her wounds were healing, slowly but surely, a scab had formed over her pain. She felt like a burn victim, she knew that the quickest way to heal was to keep ripping the scab off, but she couldn’t face the torture she would endure if that was to happen. One day, the scab would fall off by itself and she would just be left with scar tissue, memories that would not be so bright, so vivid, or so painful, they would just be there. Until then, she hung on to the memories, keeping them fresh and new in her mind. It was all she had left.
She pulled into a parking bay and turned off the engine. She and Anna got the luggage from the boot and the four of them went inside the terminal. It was afternoon and the bus station swarmed with people. Lights lifted the gloom that tried to penetrate the mist-encrusted windows. The bus was not ready to leave so they stood around waiting, there was nowhere to sit, the rows of uncomfortable plastic seats bolted to the floor were occupied. They made small talk to pass the time, Madeleine now eager to be away from them and they from her. She barely heard what her mother was saying, just enough to nod and comment in the right places. The roar of chatter that rose around her drowning out her inner thoughts. How many other people here were going through the same motions? The protracted goodbyes, the waiting drawn out by the inability to leave for fear of upsetting parents or children alike, each conversation dancing politely around a ballroom of manners, but behind the eyes, in the nervous twitch of a muscle or shuffling of feet the need to get away, get home, back to normality.
A signal was broadcast over the PA system and a scratchy voice announced that their bus was ready for boarding. With barely concealed relief, they picked up their luggage and walked through the main terminal to the garages. A further wait while the suitcases were loaded and then the goodbyes. She hugged her father, felt him envelope her in a bear hug full of genuine sorrow at leaving his elder daughter behind, alone again. “I’ll see you soon,” she said in answer to his unasked question. He nodded at her.
“Thank you for a lovely time,” her mother told her as they parted, “I’ll call once we get in.” It was her mother’s code for telling her she worried about Madeleine worrying about their journey home, as close these days as she got to the subject of Doug’s death.
She hugged her sister closest of all, four years separated them and Anna alone seemed to accept her for the way she was, never pushed her to forget, never reprimanded her for not being able to. Four years younger, but for all that, older and wiser. “‘Bye, Maddy.”
“Goodbye.” She watched them find their seats, waited until the bus fired up its engine and closed its doors. Her mother waved as the mechanical behemoth rumbled slowly towards the exit. Madeleine waved weakly back, watched as the bus turned out of the garage and turned herself, back towards the terminal and beyond, to her car and home.
The bus rolled to a stop with a groan of hydraulics. The doors sighed open and the passengers began to stream out.
Alex scanned the garage through steamed windows, he saw no one he recognised, but that meant nothing. A ball of fear rose in his throat and he felt a weakening of spirit. There were too many people out there. It was what he had hoped for, telling himself that once he was at the terminal a mass of bodies would be his best chance of avoiding capture. He still knew that was the case, but he was afraid. Cover for himself was cover for a Technician. He could stand next to one of them and not know until it was too late, way too late.
Come on, Alex, move! He commanded himself and knew it was his only option. People were still filing off the bus, a queue formed in the aisle, held up by an old man at the front negotiating the steps with tremulous care. Finally, the old man placed both feet on terra firma and the queue began to move again.
“Excuse me,” Alex tried to enter the aisle, the man by his seat pointedly ignored him, a veteran of thousands of queues in his time, he held his ground, giving away not an inch let alone his place in the queue. Alex did not want to be the last person off the bus, felt he would be too conspicuous that way. “Please?” He muttered. Two more passengers went by before a third stopped and allowed him out. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, six people behind him, it would have to be enough. The queue shuffled forward and he peered nervously through the windows as he went. Still nothing, just the image he had envisioned before, a bustling milieu of travellers and companions. He reached the steps, pausing for an instant, hitched in a deep breath, swallowed the knot of tension clogging his throat and stepped out into the garage.
The noise was greater once he was off the bus and suddenly the garage seemed to shrink in size to him, the people crowding closer, the sound of voices a roar of unintelligible babble. His vision blurred, almost as if he was seeing with his inner eye, the one that allowed him glimpses of things no one else could see, but the colours remained vibrant, they did not seep away leaving him with the normal sepia, rather they became more… what? His mind searched for the right word, but his mind had turned to soup, he couldn’t think straight. The sights, the colours before him just became more. Part of him realised what was happening, a sensory overload caused by the onset of panic. He struggled to shake off the feeling, he couldn’t afford to panic, not here, not anywhere. A blackness, creeping, insidious, began to encroach on his vision, he was going to pass out. No! He couldn’t, he mustn’t! He felt dizzy. It was too late, he was going to fall, any second now…
The jolt knocked him forward and he stumbled drunkenly.
“Sorry!” The woman did not stop, the apology uttered as she passed. Alex did not fall. The big blue suitcase the woman struggled with had hit him on the back of his right thigh, he rubbed absently at the bruise that was already forming. Don’t mention it, he thought. The sudden pain of the case digging into his leg had brought him around. The darkness began to recede and with it the extraordinary brightness that had preceded it. His heart hammered and his face felt flushed but he no longer felt he was going to pass out.
“You alright, man?”
Alex stared at his questioner. Jeans, denim jacket, back pack slung over one shoulder. Was he a Tech? Who could tell? Alex nodded, the young man shrugged and carried on his way. He watched him worm through the crowds as his heart slowed its rapid beat. He had to keep moving. The back packer may not be from The Clinic, but anyone else might be.
“There!” The word cut through Alex’s thoughts and he swirled around, eyes seeking the source of the shout, a Technician, he was sure. His heart galloped again and he braced himself to run.
“I told you Raymond, leave the bag there. You’re going to get such a smack, my boy. Now stop being a nuisance and stand there and behave, I’m warning you!” The boy pouted at his mother. Alex sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, paranoia played havoc with his nerves.
He shook his head at his own foolishness and looked for the exit.
The back packer made his way through the crowds, heading for the main terminal. He stopped some way before reaching the double doors that led to the escalator that would take him up to the huge lobby. His laces had come untied. Sighing, he shrugged the pack from his shoulder and knelt to tie his lace. People flowed around him but he had stopped near a tall man in a grey suit. He could see from the man’s shoes to just above his knees. The trouser legs were creased, they looked as if the man had slept in them, which he had, for a short while, but the shoes were clean and well shined. The back packer uttered two words. They would have been lost beneath the babble of noise in the garage had the man in the grey suit not been listening intently for them. The words that slid out from under the breath of the back packer were short and simple, he said: “It’s him.”
The man in the grey suit nodded imperceptibly, his reply crept carefully out of the corner of his mouth, “You sure?”
The back packer stood up and picked his pack from the floor, not slinging it over his shoulder this time but keeping it gripped in his right hand. He looked the man in the grey suit in the eye, making contact for less than a second, but it was long enough to admonish his colleague, and then he was gone, brushing past the grey suit and pushing through the doors.
The man in the grey suit was not perturbed by the back packer’s reaction. They were both professionals. Neither of them knew who Alex was, or why he was important, they just had their orders and they followed them. The man in the grey suit had studied the photograph on his secure phone. The target’s face was now imprinted in his mind, the screen image losing little in quality from the original portrait held in The Clinic’s files. The fax was now history, ashes in a hotel room waste bin. Its subject however, was here, in the flesh. The man in the grey suit had glimpsed Alex momentarily himself prior to the back packer’s confirmation, now through a brief break in the flow of human traffic, he saw him fully, watched him spin around anxiously, saw the frayed nerves of a hunted animal, one that knew the chase was on and the hounds were ever nearer. The man in the grey suit suppressed a smile, this was going to be easier than he’d imagined.
Alex spotted the doors leading out of the garage and turned towards them. You’ve got to calm down, he told himself. Easy to say, harder to do. One step at a time. You’ve been here a few minutes and you’re still standing, maybe they’re not here, maybe you’re still okay. Maybe. He pushed past a party of people clustered around a pile of suitcases, the smell of diesel fumes in his nostrils. He saw the woman with the suitcase. She was still now, sitting precariously on the edge of the heavy trunk. She was not looking at him and he dismissed her from his mind. He tried to glance around him casually, eyes alert for anyone who looked out of place, who looked like they were looking for someone with a little more than a normal curiosity. It was a hopeless task, part of him realised, he had no training to help him recognise any tell-tale signs of being watched or followed. All he could rely on was his own instinct and judgement. Oh well, that’s alright then, nothing to worry about there! His instinct for survival had never been tested before the last few hours and he was definitely at the bottom of the learning curve and as for his judgement, he’d just had an example of that with the little boy. He was jumping at shadows, seeing things that were not there, he did not have much faith in his own judgement right at this moment.
He was no more than ten paces from the doors when he saw the man in the grey suit. The man was walking casually towards him, eyes scanning a timetable and glancing up at the stop signs suspended from rusted chains, looking for his bus. His eyes never strayed towards Alex, not once.
Alex ran his eyes briefly over the man as he approached, wary of anyone coming towards him. He saw nothing to make him suspicious, just a man in a crumpled grey suit, tie askew, collar button undone, looking for his ride. The man passed by three feet to the left. Alex was beginning to breathe a little more easily now, the doors were right in front of him when the first doubt nagged at him. A doubt about the man in the grey suit. A thought danced around the edge of his brain, flittered away. Something was odd about the man in the grey suit. Something… wrong? Thoughts ricocheted around his head. Who was he? Anybody? Nobody? Alex paused three steps from the doors, he wanted to turn around, look at the man, see him walking away towards his bus. The rat’s teeth of panic gnawed at his guts and he felt frozen to the spot, unable to turn his head. The thoughts continued to fly. What was it? He pictured the man again. Why was he wearing a suit? Was that it? There was no law against being smartly dressed. But the suit wasn’t smart. It was crumpled, like it had been slept in. So what? People waited hours for buses sometimes. There was something else. He might be a businessman. That could be true enough, but it was the holiday. Not for everyone. Why doesn’t he have a car? If he’s a businessman? Maybe he couldn’t drive. There was something else, think, damn it! Alex closed his eyes briefly, saw the man in the grey suit again. The crumpled grey suit and… shoes! His shoes were clean, not just clean but spotless, polished to a high sheen, not a mark on them. He didn’t remember looking at the man’s shoes but he could see them now, in his mind’s eye. He knew it instinctively. Maybe he had more of a flair for survival than he thought. He opened his eyes and took a further pace to the doors. There! A dull reflection in the dirty glass, a shape behind him, a man. Alex tensed his aching muscles, waiting for a hand to fall on his shoulder or the pain of a knife sliding into his kidneys. Nothing. He took another step, the reflection of the man in the grey suit reached into a pocket. This was it. Alex waited for a fraction of a second, saw the reflected man’s hand begin to withdraw from the jacket pocket, and moved.
His hands hit the glass pane, pushing the aluminium framed door back against its stop so that it sprang back quickly. Alex darted through the rapidly closing gap, turned and pushed the door back at the man in the grey suit. The door hit him in the face, the sudden movement taking the Technician by surprise. His hand was still caught in the pocket of his jacket and he fell backwards, a look of surprise flashing across his bland features. He careened into an exiting passenger and tumbled over a suitcase, landing heavily, the owner of the case losing his balance and falling on top of the man in the grey suit. Alex saw the Tech begin to fall and ran for the escalator.
So now they knew he was here, it wasn’t just supposition anymore, it was real. The thoughts beat out a tattoo in his brain as his feet pounded up the slowly moving escalator. He risked a glance behind him, the man in the grey suit had yet to appear through the doors. Alex breathed a rapid sigh of relief and caught his foot on the top of the next riser. He fell heavily onto the moving staircase and the wind was expelled from his lungs. Stupid! He reprimanded himself and struggled to his feet as he reached the top of the flight. Below, the man in the grey suit untangled himself from the oblivious passenger, pushing the heavy weight of the man off him and rose to his feet. Oily stains marked his suit but the man was unconcerned. He raced to the doors and pushed through them. Alex had disappeared from sight. The man in the grey suit ran swiftly up the stairs hoping that his colleague had already seen and stopped Alex at the top.
The terminal was crowded. Bodies sprawled in plastic seats, bags and cases littered the floor, people stood grouped together, islands in a shifting sea of humanity. The man in the grey suit spotted Alex near the entrance to the terminal, he was moving quickly but not running. The man felt a fleeting respect for him, he instinctively knew that by running he would be bringing unwanted attention to himself, he was trying to blend in with his surroundings while moving as fast as he could.
He saw Alex almost reach the main doors and then he saw the back packer. The denim-clad figure was moving towards Alex from the right, back pack swinging casually in his right hand. The man in the grey suit moved forwards himself, preparing to close the gap.
“Coming through!” The porter was pushing a large, long trolley, a metal cage on wheels. It was stacked high with luggage and was heavy and cumbersome to manoeuvre. The man in the grey suit stepped back quickly, the front wheels of the trolley narrowly missing his immaculately shined shoes. He turned to move around the trolley but his passage was blocked by a sudden rush of commuters. He fumed silently waiting for the way to clear. The trolley’s cargo momentarily obscured his view of the front doors. When, finally he was able to pass he saw the back packer struggling to his feet. What the fuck? The back packer saw the man in the grey suit approach as he got to his feet, anger and embarrassment reddened his face. Saying nothing, he rushed out of terminal, the man in the grey suit on his heels.
Alex turned left at the top of the escalator, ahead of him lay the terminal. He ignored the knock he had sustained when he fell and made to run through the huge lobby, his only thought escape. Instead, without consciously deciding, he slowed his gait to a fast walk, he glanced quickly behind him, the man in the grey suit was still not in evidence. Perhaps he had imagined it? No, he knew the man was from The Clinic. He skirted around groups of people standing sentinel like around mounds of luggage. His eyes darted back and forth, seeking out other Technicians, anyone who might possibly be a threat. His heart pounded with fear but he could see no one else. The man in the grey suit must be following by now. He was almost at the doors before he risked another glance behind him. He saw his pursuer as he emerged around the corner at the top of the escalator. The man, like himself, did not run, but the wish to was written all over him, Alex could see it but doubted that anyone else, a casual observer, would notice anything out of the ordinary. Stay calm, he told himself. Alex turned back towards the doors as he saw a porter pushing a large trolley cross the man’s path, gaining him one or two precious seconds.
The blow came out of nowhere. Alex had glanced back over his left shoulder to see how close the Tech was. As he faced forward he was struck from his blind side. Air bellowed from his lungs as he folded forwards, caught totally unawares, hands clutching at his belly, grabbing hold of the backpack that had slammed into him.
The Tech pulled back on the straps of the pack as Alex fell but Alex kept his grip on the smooth nylon material, tugging as he lurched towards the ground. The resistance took the Tech by surprise and he found himself being pulled forwards. Beneath him, Alex lashed out with his foot, swinging it around and connecting with the back of the Tech’s left knee. The Technician lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. His hands immediately released the straps of the backpack and he reached for Alex. Alex rolled away from the grasping hands that slapped the ground inches from his face. Blind panic working his limbs, Alex swung the backpack at the Tech, the pack was heavy and it connected solidly with the other man’s face as he raised himself up. The man groaned as the pack hit him and his head slammed back against the floor of the terminal. He lay still, momentarily stunned by the force of the impact.
Breath rasping in his throat, Alex staggered to his feet, oblivious of the stares the struggle had drawn. The battle had been conducted in near silence, just the sound of their breathing and the surprised gasps caused by the blows each had landed. The whole incident lasted no more than five seconds. Alex fell against the main doors and spun around as they opened with his weight. He ran without looking back.
Madeleine walked through the drizzling rain to her car unaware of the cold and damp. She wore a fashionable leather jacket that protected her from the worst of the insistent downpour but her head was bare. Her thick, blonde hair was quickly sodden but she walked slowly, at a pace dictated by her inner thoughts. When she reached her car, unsure of how she got there, she realised she did not have an idea of what she had been thinking. The entire walk from the garage, up the escalators and through the terminal to here, across the car park from the main entrance, was a blank. She’d suffered similar fugues in the past, several times since Doug’s death and she supposed it was just down to the time of year.
Still moving lethargically, Madeleine found her keys in her handbag and disarmed the car alarm, all the doors unlocking as the mechanism operated. She opened the back door and took off her coat, throwing the jacket and her handbag onto the seat before climbing into the driver’s seat. She had turned the key in the ignition, the reassuring rumble of the engine rousing itself from slumber, when the young man opened the door and threw himself into the passenger seat.
“Drive!” He barked at her.
Madeleine stared in shocked disbelief, her lips moved to speak but no sound came out, words blocked by a knot of confused thoughts. Finally a question emerged from the syrupy thickness of her mind. “What?” A numbness crept over her. A sense of dislocation brought about by the fugue she had experienced just a moment or two before and the sudden appearance of a total stranger in the passenger seat of her car. A shrill laugh echoed around her head, a laugh that had the brittle tones of panic and fear. On the heels of that staccato burst of mirthless laughter came the sudden, total and irrefutable notion that she was going to die. Her mouth dried up and a blush of heat ran through her nerve endings. She was paralysed by fear, her feet wooden, feeling pinned to the floor, her hand frozen on the key in the ignition, her head turned towards the stranger in the passenger seat, eyes glued to his features but seeing nothing through the curtain of panic. Her heart seemed to stop beating, pulse slowed to a long drawn out groan. Time became elastic, her paralysis lasting forever in her mind but only the briefest of seconds in reality, ended by the man in the seat next to her.
Alex had run as fast as his legs would carry him, blind to the possibility of traffic or other pedestrians. He turned at the doors of the terminal and darted across the pavement, leaping off the kerb into a gap between two parked cars and tearing across the road, feet pounding through a large puddle. The car park was half full, a large van loomed up on his left and he quickly ducked behind it, casting a frantic look over his shoulder in time to see the terminal doors slam open and the two Technicians emerge into the pouring rain. He altered course slightly, attempting to keep the van between himself and their searching eyes. He imagined he could hear the slap of their feet on the wet tarmac as they pursued him through the car park, could see their hands reaching for him, closer, closer. He dashed to the right, the irrational image controlling his motions. He heard a shout as his diagonal path took him out of the cover provided by the van and revealed him to his hunters. He weaved between parked cars, wing mirrors slapping forwards and then snapping back as he ploughed through the obstacles. A car alarm pined intermittently, its sensors triggered by his passage as he cannoned into its near side rear wing and it rocked violently.
Fit though Alex was, he was tired and his muscles ached, he’d used up a lot of adrenalin in the last few hours and he knew he would not be able to out run the Techs for long. He needed some luck, needed to find a car with the keys in, and fast, or it wouldn’t be just an image of hands reaching for him, it would be a reality and it would all be over. He passed between two more cars, having covered more than half the parking lot. Cars were beginning to thin out now, more and more spaces being empty. He was running out of time. Another quick glance over his shoulder, the Techs were still some way off but they were getting closer. Please God! He thought. He turned towards the exit. He did not have time to check the ignitions of parked cars for keys, any pause now and they’d have him. His only hope was to make it to the road and flag down a car, hitch a ride. He re-doubled his efforts, eking out a small increase in the gap from the back packer and the man in the grey suit and his by now less than immaculate shoes. His breath was ragged in his throat and a stitch was beginning to nag at his side. That was when he saw her. The blonde woman at the saloon. He heard the bleep of the car alarm as it was disengaged and altered his direction again, turning left, away from the exit. He saw the rear door open and her take off her jacket. He was thirty yards from the car. The rear door shut and she opened the driver door.
Twenty yards.
He wanted to call out to her, but held his tongue.
Ten yards.
She inserted the key in the ignition.
Five yards.
The engine coughed into life, a healthy rumble, a sound sweet to his ears.
He opened the passenger door and threw himself inside.
“Drive!” He shouted at her.
The woman stared at him a blank look of terror on her face. She didn’t scream or cry out, for a long second she said nothing at all and then just, “What?”
Alex stared past her shoulder, through the rain smeared window. The two Techs were almost with them. He was cornered. He did not have time to do anything else, the car, this woman was his only chance. He thrust his hand into the pocket of his green anorak.
“I have a gun!”
Still the woman said nothing else but his words had an effect on her. The panic that danced in her eyes flared up and she moved instinctively. Her wrist flicked involuntarily and she turned the key, the engine cut out.
“No!” Alex almost screamed. The back packer was only a few yards away. Alex could almost see his eyes. His own shout brought a reaction from the woman and she cried out unintelligibly, hands flying up to her face.
“Come on, drive! Please!” Alex jabbed at her with his hand, the finger in his pocket nudging her in the ribs. Back packer was there, now. His hands reaching for the door. Alex suddenly remembered that the doors were all open, the car had central locking. He lunged across the woman and hit the button on the driver’s door, the locks engaged fractions of a second before the back packer’s hand grabbed hold of the door handle.
The woman screamed as she felt Alex reach across her, his right hand, still shaped like a pistol in his pocket dug further into her side, a sharp jabbing pain that focused her mind again on the very real terror that had gripped her when Alex had leapt into the car.
The comforting blankness of panic that clouded her mind for a second when she had cried out melted away. The jabbing pain brought her back from the brink of an abyss of fear but it wasn’t the threat of the gun that made her comply with Alex’s demand. Nor was it the sudden appearance of the two men at the side of her car and the way they rattled the door handles and banged their fists on the side windows. She didn’t hear what they were shouting. She looked at Alex once more, saw the way he was ignoring her, his attention given to the two men who were chasing him. What made her turn the key and re-start the engine? What made her engage first gear and lurch through the gap in front of her, made by a rusted four wheel drive that had vacated its space while she had been in the terminal with Anna and her parents, was the word please.
It seemed incongruous in the circumstances and it stood out in her mind. She focused on that word. When she thought back later, she concluded that that word had saved her life, both of their lives.
She released the hand brake and the car surged forward, she spun the wheel and with a squeal of tyres, headed for the exit. The man in the grey suit swung his fist at the car, a glancing blow that had no effect and watched in frustration as the car turned and made for the exit. He and the back packer were already making a mental note of the license number and a full description of the car and as much of a description of the woman as they could. They turned and ran towards their own vehicles but they knew it would be too late. The target would be too far away by the time they were able to give pursuit. The chase would be taken up by others.