16
"Pretty fucked, I'd say," said Davidson.
He and DCI Swanson stood in the station doorway, gazing out at the city. Most of it was burning now, but there were no more sirens to be heard, just shouts and screams and breaking glass.
The sound of a city dying.
Davidson looked at his boss. "What do we do? Should we try to help?"
Swanson shook her head. "We're far past that stage. Get your girlfriend. We need to go."
"She's not my girlfriend, she's only thirteen!"
"Fifteen," corrected Cheryse from behind them.
"Still illegal, though," Davidson protested.
Cheryse joined them in the doorway. "What's illegal?"
"Us, you know, having… uh… sexual relations."
Cheryse's eyes went wide. "Jesus."
Davidson blushed. "No, I'm not… I wasn't saying…" He looked imploring at Jack, but the agent was shaking his head and frowning so deeply he appeared to have just one big eyebrow.
"Fuck's sake, detective inspector," Swanson muttered. "Get a hold of yourself. As I was saying, we need to get out of here."
"And go where?" Davidson asked.
"My sister's got a place up north. In Highbridge."
"Never heard of it," said Davidson.
"No-one's fucking heard of it. That's the point, there's no bastard there. It's just outside Fort William. We'll head there and see what the score is, my team is going to meet me at Fort William as it's our fall back zone" Jack said softly, "Well, those I got hold of."
"What about my mum and dad?" Cheryse asked.
Both men turned to look at her.
"Where are they?" asked Swanson asked with a groan as she chose to watch her city burn.
"Spain."
"Oh, well in that case we'll swing by and pick them up on the way," Swanson said. "I've got my private jet on standby. We'll whizz over there and-"
"Uh, OK, Ma'am. She gets the point," said Davidson.
Swanson opened her mouth to say something else, and then stopped herself. She looked at Cheryse, but she kept her face turned away.
"Sorry," Swanson said. "That was out of order."
Cheryse shrugged, but said nothing.
"I'm sure they're fine. I bet none of this is happening over there. They're probably having a great time," Jack said. "And we'll look after you until it's all sorted out. Then you'll be back with them."
Cheryse glanced up at him.
"That's bollocks," she said. "But thanks."
Swanson clapped her on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. Right then, campers, let's hit the road."
Jack made for the door, then hesitated. "Oh, but before we do, has anyone got the key for the gun cabinet?"
Davidson shook his head. "No."
There was a jingling of metal as Swanson held up a hefty bunch of keys. "Good job I have then, eh?"
.
.
.
.
2:57 AM
Cheryse hurried along beside Davidson, her knife gripped tightly in her hand again.
Jack marched on ahead, muttering below his breath.
"He's not happy about the guns, is he?" Cheryse whispered.
"No," said Davidson, shaking his head. "I wouldn't fancy being whoever took them if he finds them."
"What do you think about all that stuff he said? About the spider?"
Davidson puffed out his cheeks and shrugged. "No idea."
"Is he dangerous?" Cheryse asked.
"What? Uh, no, no he's not dangerous," Davidson said, although he felt the need to add, "Don't think so," just to cover himself.
Swanson looked back over her shoulder as she kept pace with the Captain.
"Keep up, you pair," she called. "I swear, if we get to the car park and find out there's no riot wagons left, I will not be a happy woman."
A moment later, they reached the car park. There were no riot wagons left.
Swanson, to her word, was not a happy woman.
"Bastards! The fucking robbing bastards!"
"The wagons would've been out on call, ma'am," Davidson pointed out. "You know, dealing with rioting like they're supposed to."
Swanson shouted a few more obscenities at the world at large, then took a deep breath and smoothed down her overcoat. "Right. We need a vehicle."
"My car's parked out front," Davidson said.
"Right. OK. What kind is it?"
"A Renault Clio."
Swanson buried her face in her hands.
"Fuck!" Jack shouted. "OK, fine. That'll have to do. Let's go."
They turned to find a small crowd of people gathered behind them. Cheryse raised her knife, and Davidson fumbled in his belt for his.
Swanson cast her eye over the crowd and stepped forward.
"What do you lot want?" she demanded.
Davidson spotted an elderly woman in a dressing gown among the crowd. His heart, which had been racing pretty much constantly for the past few hours, seemed to crash to a halt in his chest.
"Uh, ma'am," he began.
"No' now, detective inspector," said Swanson.
She took another step closer to the crowd. There were thirty or forty of them, most of them at least partly hunched over, their faces twisted in anger, their fingers curved into claws.
"I'm going to give you folks the count of three to fuck off," Swanson said. "Station's shut. You're on your own".
"One," she began.
"Andy?" Cheryse whispered. Davidson took her hand and squeezed it.
"Two!" boomed Swanson.
"Uh, ma'am," Davidson hissed.
Swanson held up a hand for silence. She opened hers mouth to say, "Three," but before the word could escape her lips, the crowd surged forward.