Blighted Land: Book two of the Northumbrian Western Series (Northumbrian Westerns 2) (11 page)

We sat there for a good minute, as she played with her glass, let me think through her offer. It was tempting. Leave Faeston and Round Up for somewhere else. With her and her brother. He was the worst thing about the deal. Him and the hassle getting him out, of course.

‘We’d never get him out,’ I said.

‘I can help with that.’

‘It’s not like we can just walk out with him.’

‘With you help we’ll be fine.’
 

‘And what is this place you’re going to?’

‘A town. In Scotland. Somewhere where they are doing it all right. Working together not against each other.’

It was interesting but I didn’t need her and Casper. I had money and the Scrambler. There was nothing stopping me leaving town. Getting on the road again. Finding this place.

Becky stared into her glass and turned it slowly. ‘Think about it, Trent.’

‘Listen.’ I wanted to slow this down, go off and think about it. Then the band started to play again. As they came on Becky gave me funny looks. This was the jumpiest I’d seen her.
 

Finishing my whisky I put the glass down. A waiter passed by I waved him over and asked for the same again, ordering Becky another beer. Maybe what she offered was what I needed. Something different, some purpose. No more wandering alone or working for people like Nico.
 

‘I’ll think about it,’ I said.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah.’

We were very close. She leant forward as if to whisper in my ear but kissed me on the cheek. I looked at her and she kissed me on the lips, putting her hands on mine.
 

When the waiter arrived with our drinks we separated.
 

The trumpeter played a solo and people cheered. I closed my eyes and put a hand against my temple. I saw the three lads on the settee. Two white faced, terrified. The third dead.
 

‘Trent?’

I opened my eyes. ‘What’s your plan?’

‘What?’

‘Your plan? To get Casper out.’

She waved her hand, dismissive as it if was obvious. ‘I have stuff we can use. You know the layout…’

The band stopped. I knocked back my whisky then stood up. ‘I need to go.’

‘Really?’

‘I’ve had enough.’

She joined me as I settled our bill. Left the club. I’d really had enough to drink. And my head was spinning from everything else. We stood outside. The sun had set and there were more candles lit outside the bars and cafes. The lights around the harbour shone up from Low Town. The rest of it was invisible.
 

‘What do you think?’ she said.

‘It sounds like something.’

She was watching me again. ‘What now?’

‘Time to go.’
 

We moved onto the Walkway, by a mosaic of Poseidon. She shuffled around and didn’t make eye contact. ‘Are you going to help?’ she said.

‘I’ll see.’

She smiled and moved over to me, putting her arms around me, kissing me again. This time full on the lips with more passion. When she moved back her eyes were red rimmed, as if she was going to cry. ‘We need to do it soon.’

‘Right.’

As she moved off she leant back to me, her mouth by my ear again. ‘Thanks for all your help.’ Then she kissed me on the cheek and walked off.

I
DIDN
’
T
SLEEP
WELL
that night. I was woken by nightmares then lay in my room as the sounds of Faeston drifted in: trains on their way down from Scotland. Ships making ready to sail. Everyone in the town seemed to be moving around.
 

I went to Round Up Central first thing. I wanted to meet Casper again. Gregg was in the office with Tyler and some lad I didn't know. They told me that Nico was across town at the Globe.
 

Gregg grinned at me. He seemed to have forgotten our altercation from the day before. ‘Spent a bit of time with your mate last night.’

‘My mate?’

‘The prisoner. Got him singing.’

This wasn’t something I wanted. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Propped him up. Didn't let him sleep, eat, drink.’

‘He say much?’ If Casper had mentioned our chat, about Becky, that was it. Nico would be on to me.

‘Nah. Whining on about bein’ tired. Something about wanting to go home. Think he’s near breaking though.’ Gregg thought this was great, grinning away. Tyler and the other man laughed, seeing it as a big joke.

‘I’ll go see him now. Try to get something out of him.’

Gregg thrust a pencil and pad of paper at me, said no more. He led me out and along the corridor, swinging his keys, whistling a tune. At the door he grunted. ‘As soon as he starts talking I’m to be called.’ He unlocked the door. ‘Nico’s orders.’

Nico’s orders. They were keeping an eye on me.
 

As before there were two guards in the cell. One I recognised from the previous day, the one who’d spoken, but the other I’d not seen before. Casper was sitting at the table, his head slumped on his hands.

‘He’s meant to stand up!’ said Gregg.
 

‘Leave him,’ I said. ‘I want to talk to him.’

‘Nico said —’
 

‘Leave him, please.’

I sat opposite Casper, the pad in front of me. ‘How are you?’

He glanced up, one eyebrow raised, then lay back down on his hands moving his head from side to side. ‘Uh, Christ,’ he said.

‘Time for another chat.’

He sat up and yawned. His tongue was coated white, eyes bloodshot. He dropped his head forward onto his arms taking deep breaths.
 

He’d been kept awake for days now. It wouldn’t be long before he really broke. Told them how to get into the Eblis and all about Becky. All about me.

I glanced back up at the guards. They seemed to be staring into space. Not watching me and Casper. They were probably tired as well. Bored shitless. I spoke in a loud voice. ‘I need to know what’s going on.’

He shook his head. Maybe he’d heard me and was responding or maybe it was just a comfort thing.
 

‘Casper, this is important.’

When he raised his head one eye was half shut.
 

Then he slumped down, flat out on the table.

I asked stuff about the tank and where he’d come from, leaning forward nodding, writing notes, even though Casper was breathing deeply, probably asleep. Which was good. If he rested he’d be able to hold himself together for another day.

After forty minutes, when he sounded like he was snoring I nudged him. ‘This better all be true,’ I said.

He started and sat up. ‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

Blinking like mad he nodded and lay back down.
 

I gripped the pad and stood up. The guards looked at me and I eyeballed each in turn. Then I went to the door and knocked until Gregg came.

He opened it a couple of centimetres, no more. ‘Is he talking?’

‘Yeah.’

I grabbed hold of the door and yanked it wide then walked out, pushing him aside. ‘I’ve taken notes.’

‘You were to call me when he talked!’

‘There wasn’t time.’

‘Nico will hear —’

‘I’ve got notes. For Nico. I’ll pass them on to him.’

Before he could ask anymore I was off. I was in no mood for Gregg to have a go. Bollock me for not letting him into the cell.

Outside I screwed up the crap I’d written and threw it into the gutter. A cart rattled past full of mangy looking turnips. Casper wasn’t going to last much longer. I’d given him a break but he’d gone for days without sleep. Soon Nico would get details out of him. Details about my involvement.

I had to do something.

We’d have to break him free. Getting him out would be a miracle. Without thinking about it I’d got caught up in this.

Last night I’d dreamt about Becky. Me and her in bed together. Partway through the sub had appeared again. Not like the dream I’d had in Sophie’s, more bizarre, with me floating in the water, alongside it. As it dived I was swept underwater with it, swirling and turning. Maybe it meant something.

More likely it was from all the booze I’d had.
 

Several boys grabbed turnips off the cart, running away with them.
 

So Becky had arrived and wanted me to go with her on this mission of hers. We’d break Casper out and run off into the wilds.
 

Just like that.

As the farmer spotted the lads he stopped the cart and jumped off, running after them. But they were too fast.

I started to walk home. Maybe Becky had just been messing me around. Playing games to get me to help her. She was interesting and attractive. Good to spend time with. But not worth getting killed for. Not many women were, if any.
 

But I was ready to go. Ready to leave the town and happy to give Round Up a bloody nose on the way. If she had some kind of a serious plan, some ideas about getting the tank and going then it was worth hearing.

If she didn’t, that was that. I’d take my chances on Casper not talking. Leave when I was ready.

I turned round and headed across town. Towards High Town.

When I got to the Bay Hotel I went straight in. I remembered her room number from when she’d mentioned it in the bar.
 

Room twelve was on the first floor at the far end, by a cracked window that looked out across the town. I thumped on the door, rattling it in the frame. It was patched with an uneven piece of wood at the bottom, the number written in neat paint. From other rooms I could hear voices, someone singing way off, a slow tune. Maybe Becky was still asleep: it was only midmorning. Or maybe wasn’t here, hadn't ever been. It might have all been a trick by Round Up, a test. One I’d failed.

Maybe I should just turn and go.

The door opened. Becky stood there with a towel wrapped around her, a crease of cleavage showing, her hair wet and eyelashes matted. She smelled of soap. ‘Trent?’ She glanced past me, up and down the passageway then waved her hand at me. ‘Come in.’
 

I followed through into the main room. There was a window that looked out to sea where a couple of ships made their way in towards the harbour. The bed was strewn with maps and plans of buildings. Old magazines. There were pieces of paper on the coffee table with motorcycle components on them. Two panniers and a rucksack were packed beside it. Black bra and knickers lay upon folded clothes on a pillow.
 

‘You planning to leave?’ I said.

‘Just been waiting for you.'

‘I didn't even know I was coming.’

She smiled. ‘I just need to finish washing…’ She adjusted the towel, tucking it into her cleavage. Then she went into the bathroom.
 

I rested back in the seat and closed my eyes. Around me were the sounds of the building, footsteps and chairs scraping. Shouts and slamming doors. If I was going to go along with this I needed a lot more information. Where, why and how. If she gave the wrong answers that would be it. I’d ride off alone.

I jerked up when she came back in, still in the towel but now with her hair wrapped up as well.
 

‘Should we thrash out the details?’ she said.

‘I have a few questions.’

She sat down, unfolding a map and setting it out on the floor. ‘Go on.’

‘Say we get Casper out —’

‘Which we will.’

‘Where are we going?’

She went across to the bed, picked up a magazine and handed it to me. It was a holiday brochure, decades old.
 

‘Page forty-two,’ she said.

I turned to the page she’d said. It had pictures of a castle surrounded by trees. A loch and small village. Smiling men with bagpipes. A plate full of seafood. A red deer with massive antlers. ‘What the fuck is this?’
 

‘There’s a community there. A group of forward-thinkers. They have forests for fuel. Water they can fish. Farm with healthy animals. Good housing. It’s all run through an elected council. And they welcome decent people. It’s not like here with Round Up.’

‘Sounds too good to be true.’
 

‘The problem is its location. On the west coast of Scotland. You have to pass round Glasgow or Edinburgh and across country. A couple of other dangerous places. That’s why we need the Eblis.’

‘And you’ve been there? Seen it?’

‘I know reliable people who have.’

I flicked through the photos of the place in this holiday brochure. It was possible that it did exist. That there were people trying to move things forward. Shangri-La had elements of it, Gary’s oasis in the far north of Northumberland. But it was too wrapped up in hippy stuff for me. ‘Is this a religious cult?’