Dead To Me

21

RACHEL GRABBED HER coat and checked the time.

‘You off?’ Janet was surrounded by reams of paper, still working out Sean’s next interview, when he’d be under arrest.

‘Speedy Cabs,’ Rachel said.

‘The case of the disappearing shopping,’ Janet said drily. ‘It’d be handy to have that sorted to include in this’, she gestured to the papers. ‘The more I’ve got pinned down, the less his wiggle room. I’m going round in circles now, though.’

‘Come with us, if you like,’ Rachel offered. She hadn’t expected Janet to agree, but she did.

It was dark again and wet, heavy rain that drummed on the roof of the car and streamed down the windscreen.

Rachel parked by the arches and dashed across the cobbles. It was a different dispatcher, an old bloke with a beard you could knit Brillo pads from. He said Kasim had just done a run to Ashton and should be returning soon.

She ran back to sit with Janet in the car. ‘If he took Lisa to flog the shopping on the way home, it’d have to be somewhere nearby,’ Rachel said.

‘Shifting all the time, though, isn’t it? Stuff changing hands, one week it’s so-and-so that’s the man to see, next week it’s the next-door neighbour, or the lad round the corner,’ Janet said.

‘Say she flogs the stuff, makes some money, scores – maybe that’s what Sean took, along with the phone?’ Rachel said. ‘He wouldn’t want to tell us that, would he; he’d be worried about being done for possession.’ Up to seven years imprisonment and an unlimited fine.

‘He should be worried about being done for murder,’ Janet said.

Maybe, as Andy said, the gear was at Sean’s gaff, along with the knife and bloodstained clothing, and Sean had been playing for time.

‘I asked at Ryelands,’ Janet said. ‘They didn’t know Sean.’

Rachel wondered whether to say anything about Martin Dalbeattie being responsible for both girls, but at that moment a cab, its sign illuminated, headlights capturing the rain, drove along the cobbles. As the car came to a halt beneath the street light, Rachel recognized Kasim. ‘There he is.’ She turned to open the door.

‘Ask him to come over here,’ Janet said, then groaned. ‘This weather!’

Rachel stepped out of their car at the same time as Kasim got out of his. She saw him glance her way, then his face altered, an expression of alarm as he realized who she was. He ducked back into the cab and gunned the engine.

Rachel leapt into the car and turned the ignition. Repeating his car reg out loud.

‘What on earth’s he…?’ Janet said.

Kasim reversed at speed up the narrow street, the beams of his lights jouncing over the wet stones and brick walls.

Rachel stamped on the accelerator and swept up the road after him. At the junction, Kasim backed out into the main road and sped off, his engine screeching.

Rachel’s heart was thumping. Janet ferreted in her bag for the radio and began calling for backup, asking uniformed patrols and Traffic to stop the taxi.

Kasim raced along Hyde Road and Rachel kept pace, eyes alert to any hazards ahead. She had done the advanced driving course and was confident she could handle the vehicle. But the rain didn’t help, a slew of water across the windscreen, wipers going full speed, moments of road blindness before the next sweep of the blades.

‘He’s taking a left,’ Janet said, ‘April Place,’ having to raise her voice over the noise of the car.

Rachel swerved on the turn, felt the back wheels spin, the sideways slide. Corrected well. Pressed the accelerator to the floor.

‘And right, into Moby Street,’ Janet said over the airwaves. Then, staring at Rachel: ‘You’re enjoying this.’

‘Beats Alton Towers, any day,’ Rachel said. Eyes locked on the rear lights of the taxi, red coals in the dark.

The car jolted over a manhole cover and they both jumped in their seats.

‘Christ! Slow down!’ Janet yelled. ‘Another right, Logan Street,’ she read the road name. ‘Where the hell’s he taking us?’

Rachel kept her foot down, thanking God it was night-time and there were few pedestrians about. They were approaching a small industrial estate. Half a dozen or so units, roller-shutter doors and corrugated roofs. And beyond them Rachel knew was a road that led to the motorway.

‘Slow down,’ Janet screamed. ‘Rachel, stop – let patrol take it.’

‘We can’t let him get to the slip road,’ she shouted above the howl of the engine. ‘Hold tight.’

‘You’ll fucking kill us!’

Rachel knew she could wring a bit more speed from the car and she was practically on his bumper. She kept the accelerator on the floor and roared closer. Gripping the wheel, she slung the car out and to the right to overtake, then nosed back in towards the cab. Almost level, she was dimly aware of Janet shouting next to her, ‘You’re too close, too close, stop!’ and voices coming over the radio. A final spurt, but then he slammed on his brakes and there was no chance to avoid him. A scream of metal and the impact shunting them back in their seats, activating the airbags and forcing the cab into the wall of one of the units. The cars travelled together for several metres. Rachel saw sparks flying as the metal of the taxi’s nearside scraped along the breeze blocks, then both cars ground to a halt. The cab parallel to the building, their car at an angle, its front end pressed against the offside rear door.

‘Fuck!’ said Janet, fighting from behind her airbag. ‘You bloody idiot! What the hell are you playing at!’

‘He’s off!’ Rachel yelled.

Kasim was out of the cab, and running. Rachel shoved her way past the airbag and hared after him.

He ran along the edge of the units. Triggering security lights. He was fast. But I’m faster, pal. Rachel ran, hard, powerful strikes, arms pumping. Breathing heavily. Not for nothing had she been top of her intake with the bleep test. Running back and forth to beat the bleep, the intervals growing shorter each time. She was fast and she was strong. She made a point of visiting the gym at least twice a week. And she’d run a marathon last year. So some scumbag cabbie tosspot was not going to get away from her.

Arms going like pistons, her windpipe aching, sweat breaking out on her back and her chest, she increased her pace, the rain soaking her hair, her face, blinking continuously to clear her vision. Closer now.

Kasim dived into an opening between two of the buildings and Rachel followed, she could see his speed slowing, his legs letting him down. She made out chain-link ahead. He went left along the rear of the building, stumbling once, allowing her to narrow the gap between them. She didn’t yell, saved her breath. Her muscles were burning in her legs, clamouring for oxygen, her face on fire. Panting now, rapid and harsh.

Kasim veered left again, heading along the other side of the unit towards the central area where the cars were. Ahead, the flicker of blue lights, the wail of sirens. Patrols arriving. He’d be harder to corner there and she was so close. She willed herself on, her heart pounding in her chest, breath raw in her throat, lungs screaming, and as they rounded the corner into the open space, in view of her car and the cab, Rachel lunged. She caught his jacket, held on, he strained forward but she pulled on his shoulder, got purchase, then she was on him, knocking him over. Sat on his back, yanked his wrists behind him, fishing the cuffs from her pocket and snapping them on, gasping, ‘You are nicked.’

Janet was at her side, hands on hips, a peculiar look on her face. ‘You mad bitch!’ she spat the words. Her face was wide with anger, or maybe fear. She was pissed off, whichever. ‘You could have killed us both. You stupid cow.’

‘You’re all right, aren’t you?’ Rachel peered up at her. ‘Nothing broken.’

Janet shook her head in disgust, walked a few steps away, then swung back. ‘That was dangerous driving.’

‘Nobody died.’

‘Screw you. Next time I’ll take the bus,’ Janet said, still furious.

Rachel blew out, winded, got to her feet, dizzy now and her calf muscles cramping. ‘How’s the car?’ she said.

‘Buggered. They’ll want a proper look at everything.’ Janet gestured to the patrols. The collision would have to be investigated. The cars examined. They would both be breathalysed – standard practice in any collision involving an officer. Rachel was sure she’d be clear.

‘I know. Need my bag, though,’ Rachel said. ‘Watch him, will you.’

‘You really don’t give a shit, do you?’ Janet said. Rachel didn’t reply. ‘Where’d you learn to run like that, anyroad?’

Langley. Always running away from something, away from aggro, trouble, away from Dad, or running after Dom.

‘Lads,’ Janet called to the uniforms, told them to take Kasim to the station and get him settled.

Rachel got her bag and went to see what everyone was goggling at, all clustered round the front of the taxi. Torches out, Janet with them. Rachel was shivering, sweat chilling her skin, the rain finding its way down the back of her neck.

‘Look at this,’ someone said as Rachel reached them. They moved aside to allow her access to the driver’s door. A uniform trained his torch on the open glove compartment. Rachel saw the pile of baggies, each containing light brown powder. Street heroin. Brilliant! ‘A nice little earner,’ she said to Janet. ‘The dispatcher reckoned Lisa was a regular. Maybe it wasn’t just the lift home she wanted.’ She grinned.

Janet still had her sour face on. Christ! There was no pleasing some people.