Chapter Two: Heaven for Cars
Alex stopped pedaling and stood up on her bike pedals, drifting down the hill through the red light into the yard of Brookland School. The bike was a Condor Junior Roadracer, custom built for her as a twelfth birthday gift and shipped from somewhere in China. It was dark blue, Alex's favorite color and was one of the only gifts she had accepted from Ian Rider as a bribe.
It was mostly given so she would forgive him for missing her birthday. It worked, somewhat, she had only been mad at him for a week instead of the two months it normally would've been. She would be sad when she finally out grew her bike. It was in very good condition, Alex had learned how to maintain it by herself via the internet and some helpful youtube videos. She swung off it lightly as it was still coasting towards the shed and stepped onto the ground lightly and kept leading the bike into it's normal spot. She double locked it and headed towards the school.
Brookland was a modern school. Made mostly of red brick, it was rather ugly; if she had to give it a rating based on appearances, on a scale of one to ten, it would register a lowly 3. She could have gone to one of the many private schools, including an all girl's school but Ian Rider had shot that idea down telling her this school would be more challenging.
First period of the day was Maths*. Mr Donovan was the teacher and he was already writing out complicated equations on the board. It was sweltering in the room, the floor to ceiling windows were facing the sun and were getting quite a bit of that today. The designers of the school should have known better. Alex sat in her normal seat toward the back of the classroom.
Her thoughts were racing in her head, many of them abandoned before she could even think about how stupid they were, most of them however were centered on the gun at the funeral and the way Mr. Alan Blunt had acted. Was that his normal behavior? Or was he acting that way for her benefit? But she also was focusing on Ian's supposed way of death. Ian always wore his seat belt. If she could only see his car for herself... She sighed softly as she tried to focus on her teacher.
"-andria will you please open the window?" She caught the tail end of his question and stood and pried open the window. She was the only one in the class whose name ended in "andria", heck she was the only one in the whole school whose name ended that way.
"Thank you, Alexandria."
Alex hid a flinch. She hated hearing her whole name. It made her feel like she was in trouble. She preferred "Alex" or even "Lex", "Lexia", "Andy", "Dria", or "Xandria". Most of her friends had different ways of calling her name. Tom always used "Lex", Jack always used "Alex", Ian had usually called her either "Alex" or "Dria", and other friends at school used a variety of the whole list of them.
She managed to get through the rest of the day but she didn't even bother to pay attention in Spanish, or French. She was already fluent in both anyway and they mostly were learning vocab.
Her mind was made up. When everyone else was streaming out of the school like they were fish migrating upstream, Alex headed to the secretary's office in order to borrow a copy of the Yellow Pages.
"What are you looking for?" The secretary, Miss Bedfordshire had always had a soft spot for Alex.
"Auto Junkyards." She mumbled back absently immersed in her actions. "If a car got smashed up near Old Street, they'd take it somewhere close, wouldn't they?"
"I suppose."
"Here..." Alex finally flipped to the yards listed under "Auto Wreckers." But there were dozens of them trying desperately to stick out over the length of four different pages.
"Is this for a school project then?" Miss Bedfordshire asked sounding like she was sure it wasn't.
"No. A personal project. The police said my uncle died in a car crash. I find it really hard to believe because he always wore his seat belt. I just want to see the car so I can finally let go." Alex let fake tears build up in her eyes looking like she was ready to cry.
Miss Bedfordshire was instantly sympathetic and Alex felt really bad about manipulating her like that. It had been one of the many things Ian had taught her. Along with how to act like a different gender and pickpocket.
Alex went back to looking through the pages, Miss Bedfordshire silently let her work. After another couple of minutes the secretary reached out and pointed to a name and address on the top right corner. "This one's near Old Street." she said.
"Wait!" Alex said tugging the book closer so she could read the smaller print underneath the one Miss Bedfordshire had pointed at was a familiar name:
J.B. STRYKER. AUTO WREAKERS
Heaven for Cars
CALL US TODAY
"That's near Vauxhall, not far from here." the secretary spoke up.
"I know." Alex agreed. J.B. Stryker. Stryker & Son. Was that just a coincidence? Unlikely. Ian had always told her that rarely anything was coincidence. He had been very paranoid. She remembered how he had run nearly a dozen background checks on Jack before he hired her. Alex had caught him at about five of them but managed to get him to admit he had done more.
"I'll see you later, Miss Bedfordshire." Alex said as she hefted her backpack onto her back.
"Good luck, and be careful." She warned. She wondered why she had said the last bit but the phone rang several seconds later and she forgot Alex to do her job.
J.B. Stryker's was a plot of wasteland behind the railroad tracks running out of Waterloo Station. It was inclosed by high brick walls topped with barbed wire and broken glass. The only opening visible was two wooden gates that were swung wide open. From the opposite side of the street Alex could see the security guard sitting in a shed with a security window reading a newspaper: The London Times. Beyond that were piles and piles of rusting, wrecked remains of dead and broken cars. In the background, unseen, a bulldozer coughed to life, then roared, a metal claw was the only visible part as it smashed through an old Ford Taurus' window and lifted up to carry it away to it's demise.
A telephone rang in the shed and that was all Alex needed. She wheeled her bike along beside her as she hurriedly slipped through the open gate and slipped a little bit farther down the wall to stick her bike for safekeeping.
She was surrounded by filth and she was very glad that Ian had got rid of her aversion to muck and dirt years ago. She had been noodling which was fishing for catfish with your bare hands, in a bog somewhere in Oklahoma in the United States of America. How that information was ever going to help her in real life she wasn't sure but she was sure Ian wouldn't have taught her if it wasn't important. At the very least it would make an interesting story for any children and grandchildren she had.
She watched for several minutes, well out of the guard's sight as the crusher did it's job and shuddered at the look of it. She didn't like how it got rid of the cars so well with no evidence remaining. Finally drawing her attention away from the monstrous machine she went looking for Ian's car.
She was beginning to lose hope when she saw it. Ian's BMW was parked a few yards away. Her first thought was that there was no way that it had been in any accident let alone a fatal one. The silver paint wasn't even scratched. It was definitely her uncle's car though, she recognized the license plate.
She made her way to the other side and froze. It wasn't undamaged at all. But there was no way the damage was from a car accident. It was obvious to see what had killed Ian Rider even to someone who had never seen something like it before. A spray of bullets from a sub machine gun had hit the car full on it's side, smashing the windshield and both driver's side windows, and punching into the metal body. Alex ran her fingers over the bullet holes. The metal was cold to the touch. She peered in the window and looked at the destruction on the inside. The belt was cut as if no one had wanted to reach over the dead body to unfasten it. And the brown stains that spread over the pale gray leather needed no explanation.
But why kill a bank manager? And why cover it up?
"You should have gotten rid of it two days ago. Do it now." The machines must've been shut off for a blessed minute. Otherwise she would have never heard them coming. Two men were walking toward her. The didn't see her yet but how much longer did she have? A few seconds at most. She looked around for a hiding place. There was nowhere besides inside Ian's ruined car. It was in an open section and she should have been more careful about approaching the damn thing in the first place.
She recognized one of the men now. They were wearing loose fitting overalls but she could never forget how one of them had leaned across a center console in a Rolls-Royce revealing a gun at her uncle's funeral.
They were only a few paces away now. Alex shook her head, there was nothing for it. She threw herself into the back door of the car, laying flat and used her foot to hook the door handle and shut it gently behind her just seconds before the mens' shadows passed over her. She breathed lightly and quickly crawled forward and opened the opposite door and started to ease herself out.
There was a jolt like an earthquake as claws pierced the window inches from her face but managing to scrape her head. She yelped throwing herself forward out of the car and landing hard on an old VW Bug that looked like it had once been red a long time ago before the rust had over run it. She felt the sharp metal cut into her leg and winced. At least she had just had her tetanus shot not three weeks ago and at least it was her left favored her right leg in a fight. She got to her feet quickly as the man operating the bulldozer raised the alarm.
The men from before hurried back towards her and she ducked behind a pile of cars as she ran towards her bike and the exit. As she swung around a pile that was obscuring the exit she saw the man from the funeral there. He noticed her and reached into his jacket, for the gun.
She reacted instantly. Eight years of Karate and Judo came into play. One day Ian had took her to a local club and left her, surrounded by boys, ready to learn karate as the only girl in the group. She had reached first-grade Dan, a black belt, before any of the boys, even the older ones that had been there a while, just a year and a half ago. She had since moved up to second grade Dan just three weeks ago. Which meant her belt was black with a two yellow stripes on it.
When she arrived at Brookland her soft looks had made her desirable to the school bullies. The bullies- three hulking sixteen-year olds, had managed to corner her behind the bike shed. And when they tried to force her to go out with them, well let's just say the two that were still in school were still singing soprano and the other had transferred far away. It had taken her less than a minute to beat all of them.
Now Alex brought up her good leg and twisted her body around and lashed out. The back kick, also known as Ushirogeri, is called the most lethal move in karate. Her foot powered into the man's solar plexus. His eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open in both surprise and in need to drawl in more air. Then, hand still reaching for his weapon, he folded and collapsed to the ground.
Alex jumped over the man and grabbed her bike. And hurriedly pedaled towards the exit.
"Stop!" Was called after her. Then there was a crack and a bullet whipped past creating a ruler straight line across the part of her shoulder that linked her neck and her shoulder. She yelped loudly and pedaled harder swerving somewhat back and forth to make aiming harder. She whipped around the corner but there were no more gun shots. She looked over her shoulder cautiously. No one had followed her.
With a sluggishly bleeding leg, a vigorously bleeding temple, and a steadily bleeding shoulder/neck she must be a sight. But thinking back to how the bulldozer had lifted the car she had still been in, and about the crusher, not to mention how the bullet had grazed her should/neck.
It could've been worse. It could have been much, much worse.
A/N: It's starting to differ already. So what do you think?
* Maths is a British term, I'm pretty sure. I'm American though so correct me if I got that wrong.