Disclaimer - you know how it goes.
I wrote this because unfortunately my other story isn't going very well. I'm sorry if it's rubbish; my brain is a blank at the moment. If anyone likes it I'll do the next bit as Crabb. I loved the baddies from Man Without a Past so I wanted to give an insight into their minds. Sorry again if it is pathetic, my next story should be better.
The sound of a knuckle rapped sharply on the door raised me from my stupor. Sally shot a quick glance at me. As far I knew she wasn't expecting company. She gave me a small nod before moving down the corridor. I snuck to the doorway and stood ready, listening.
"Sally Pendle?" I swore inside my head. Sounded like a copper.
"I'm, uh, Ray Doyle. I'm… a friend of Arthur's. We were inside together." He was looking for me! I don't know a Ray Doyle! Was he on the side of the law…or worse? Sally didn't know him either. Her retort was quick anyway.
"I don't know where he is." The man laughed half uneasily.
"I thought you might know being his sister." I could hear the grin in his voice.
"I told you, I don't know where he is." She paused and then asked suspiciously, "what do you want him for anyway?" This might be a good time to leave I thought. I started to back away.
"Well, I owe him some money." Sally visibly relaxed.
"That's alright; give an' I'll see he gets it." That Doyle character faltered for a second before saying hesitantly.
"I'd rather give it to him personally, you know, if you don't mind," he added. Most definitely time to scarper. Sally's raised voice nearly made me jump out of my skin.
"I told you I'll see he gets it!"
"Yeah ok," Her yell set my feet in motion as Doyle burst into her flat. She started screaming and grappling with him yelling at him to get out. I rushed past them and out onto the balcony. My heart was thumping twice to each beat of my feet. My run was wild; erratic and I heard answering echoes from behind me as I hurtled down the stairs.
Shoot. He was fast. Very fast. I gritted my teeth and increased my speed. More stairs. I skittered down them, using the wall as balance as I flew off the end. I sprinted across the park area heaving with kids, both a blessing and a curse, it could slow him down but it cut either way. I redoubled my efforts. The road was being done up, a huge trench meandered along the side. I leapt over it, glancing over my shoulder at my pursuer. His hair bobbed almost ridiculously as he sprinted after me. Seriously who has a perm like that?! In my short look I saw him slip but he just has to keep going. I led him into the dump, I was breathless, and he was probably in better shape than me. As I slid through the hole in the fence I peeked over my shoulder again. Too close. I tripled my efforts, I couldn't keep running forever.
We were into the grassy wasteland. He was still behind me and gaining. As I ran I grabbed a large plank of wood from the ground and whirled around to face him. His fists were raised, his eyes wary, panting.
"Just get away from me! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" I screamed my voice throaty. I kept screaming the last sentence over and over. I took a swipe at him, ready to bash his brains out. He was ready for me, he dodged – twice and then caught my third as if he did this every day. A vicious punch to the stomach left me winded. His hand closed around my collar and he hit me in the face so hard I fell backwards into the mud. He advanced slowly, his face betraying no emotion – until he sees the car. Then it's a picture. He fumbled desperately for something inside his coat. Too late. It struck him powerfully, hauling him up onto the bonnet and then deposited him unceremoniously into a bush, head first. Ray Doyle didn't move. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Peter Crabb clamber out of the car.
"Cop?"
"Yeah, I think so," I gasped. I was too jizzed up on adrenaline to say much else. That didn't seem to please Crabb much.
"What do you mean you think so? Why did you run for it if you didn't know?" I attempted to defend myself. Angrily I shouedt back at him;
"He's got to be!" Crabb deliberated for a second. His greying hair moved in the slight wind.
"Get him in the car." He ordered.
"No, let's leave 'im here." I persisted. Kidnapping wasn't really my style. Besides, he didn't look like he'd be able to go anywhere fast when he woke up. If he woke up. Crabb replied with a voice of steel.
"Get him in the car."
After a bit of thought I pushed the prone man into the boot. If he wakes up I didn't really want to underestimate this bloke. I couldn't resist putting the boot in it a few times. My face hurt like hell. See how you like it I snarled inside my head. The car jerked and moved off. Crabb was quiet for a while until we were away from the 'accident'
"Arthur I thought you were smarter." The accusation made me rile. Hotly I snapped.
"Smarter? That damned bloke forced his way in! Of course he was a cop! We should've just left 'im, he wasn't going to tell anyone soon! Peter, he might have two broken legs for all we know. I mean what was he going to do? Crawl to the station?"
"No," his tone is cold and almost condescending. "Call for help. What if someone turned up? He could give descriptions of you, maybe me too! Then our faces would be all over the news and we'd be in for it!" I noticed how he clutched the steering wheel, his knuckles blanching from the grip. "This way he can't tell anyone. Besides, he may be useful." He looked over at me. "It's for the best, trust me."
"Do you reckon he's hurt bad?" Crabb moves his shoulders, hiding our prisoner while getting up here was the hard part. At least that's what he told me.
"I don't know." His tone was curt and inside I trembled. "Get something to tie him up with." Seeing the man start to move I obeyed, the rope was in the next room. As I came back I saw him holding open the man's wallet; there was a picture of him inside. But the other discarded item caught my eye. As I picked it up I exclaimed;
"I knew he was a cop!" The gun in my hand was polished; looked after by someone who depended on it.
"Well he isn't." Crabb finished another quick search to check there were no more weapons concealed before straightening up. He wrenched the gun out of my hand. "Tie him up."
"Well who is he then?" I was nervous. There was a slight note of apprehension in my boss's voice. That was never there. He was such…always… in control!
"Just do as I say," The order was pointed and I stared at him. Then suddenly the tension was gone. He poked me in almost a fatherly way. "And get yourself cleaned up alright?"
A hot shower and a change of clothes do wonders for a man I mused. It certainly made me feel much better, apart from the annoying ache of my jaw.
I pulled a chair inside the bedroom. The Doyle bloke was still unconscious, I quickly checked his restraints. You couldn't be too careful. I had been sitting rather comfortably for about half an hour when the Doyle gasped, it sounded like a painful return to cognizance.
"I wouldn't bother." He twisted awkwardly, to look at me. I grinned; feeling back in control which I hadn't felt for a few days now. Now I had someone who was technically beneath me. I was surprised at his next words, they carried a distinct air of bravado which I think I had been secretly hoping for.
"Who's your friend? The one drivin' the tank." I stood so I towered over him. Adding a psychological touch to the situation.
"I wouldn't bother about that either."
"Graduated to the big time 'ave you?" The loathing was clear in voice. I didn't let him see how much it irked me. I lower my tone, remembering the 'baddies' in the films.
"Don't talk, save your strength." Another smile cracked my mouth. I was enjoying playing this. After all, he deserved it; my face had come up in a purpling bruise. "Not that it's gonna get you anywhere." I saw a glimpse of alarm in his face, who could blame him? He'd just been run over and kidnapped. I turned to leave, I was confident that he wasn't going anywhere. I glanced back as I reached the door. "Oh and don't bother to shout. No one will hear you." I made my exit feeling pretty pleased with myself.
I entered the living room to hear the radio blaring about the bombing. I smiled to myself, and sat down beside it, eager to hear the results of my handiwork. I could hear Crabb pottering about in the kitchen. However the next words scared me more than anything.
"The police have issued a photograph of a man, he is slim –"I switched it off hurriedly, not wanting it to confirm my fears. Crabb strode into the room, brushed past me and flicked the radio. "- As Arthur Brian Pendle alias Gary –"He turned it off with a venomous look on his face.
"So, they do know who you are. How?" I caught sight of my face in the mirror, pale and scared like a child.
"What?"
"I asked you how." Crabb rounded on me and I stumbled back. If there was one thing I had learned it was that Peter Crabb was capable of killing.
"They don't." A moment later I was on the floor with the man shouting at me.
"Arthur Brian Pendle?"
"They don't they're lying!" Terrified I scooted away.
"Alias Gary who?!"
"I don't know what you're on about!"
"Slim build?"
"I've never been copped; I swear it!"
"Don't lie! I set it up and you blow it. No form!"
"Alright I've done a bit short. Everybody's done a bit!"
"You've done enough!" His face was dark and his spit almost sprayed my face. "You know who we've got in there? Only a CI5 man. Top of the tree that's all!"
"Good." I answered. "What are we going to do with him?"
"Well we're not going to turn him loose in Piccadilly are we?" His tone was scathing. Unexpectedly the phone rang. I gulped knowing that the next few words from that man could be my death warrant. Crabb lifted the receiver.