Allan Guthrie: Killing Mum

Carlos stared at him, pretty sure he was right about the Glock being a replica. Pretty damn fucking sure. Yeah. "Go on, then," Carlos said.

"Eh?"

"Kill me."

The guy's lips tightened. He said, "I want you to get out first."

"I know."

"You better do it," Maggie said.

"Listen to her."

Carlos said, "I'm fine where I am."

"You have to do what you're told."

" No posible. Sorry." He didn't know what was going on here, but he was going to find out. "Why don't you tell me what you want?"

The guy looked at Maggie, then back at Carlos. "I want you out of the van, standing the fuck right here."

"Is it the van you want?" Carlos asked. "Or me? Or my wife?"

"I told you." He was getting twitchy, jerking the gun around. "Just get the fuck out."

"Listen," Carlos said. "How about you fuck off back to your police car and drive away. Then we can all get on with what we were doing."

"Right. I'm going to shoot you."

Carlos folded his arms. "And I'm going to sit right here."

"You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Cause I'll…"

"Shoot me?"

"Yeah."

"Glad that's settled."

The guy blinked hard. "You think I'm fucking messing around?"

Carlos uncrossed his arms. "How did you get the car?"

"Huh?"

"Stealing a cop car can't be easy."

He said, "What's it to you?"

"Just saying," Carlos said. "Must have taken a bit of planning. A bit of know-how."

"Not really. Just hung around Lothian Road. Only a matter of time before a police car showed up."

"Hmm," Carlos said. "I bet they didn't leave the door open and the key in the ignition."

"Got a technique," he said. "See — " He broke off as the passenger door clicked open.

Carlos turned to see Maggie getting out of the car. "Wait," he said.

"It's okay," she said, the door snicking shut behind her.

He watched her walk round the front of the van, no hesitation, sidle up to the joyrider.

"A police car," she said to him. "I didn't expect that."

"I'm good."

"So I see." She fingered her hair. "My husband doesn't think your gun's loaded, you know."

"Doesn't he?" He looked at Carlos. "You don't?"

"Maggie," Carlos said. "Don't taunt him."

"He thinks I'm taunting you," Maggie said to the joyrider. "Do you think so?"

"What I think," the guy said. "I think I should blow this fucker away."

"What's your problem?" Carlos asked. "You got some issue with me, spit it out? I'm getting bored of this."

"Bored? You're getting fucking bored?" The guy twisted his body, pointed the gun at the police car and fired. The windscreen exploded.

" Mierda. " Carlos felt the explosion reverberate in his bowels, the sound of the windscreen shattering like an after-effect in his veins. He glanced in the rearview, saw the bodybag wriggle. Thank Christ. They'd left the zipper undone just enough to allow air into the bag. Should mean Jordan would be able to get the bag open from the inside. Wasn't the plan, of course. But the plan was all gone to fuck. From now on, there was no fucking plan.

The joyrider said, "If you don't get out of there right now, I'll shoot you where you sit. Last chance."

Looked like everybody was on their last chance tonight.

"What does it matter?" Carlos asked.

"I don't want Maggie having to drive with your blood all over the place."

Maggie?

The joyrider knew where to find them, he knew Maggie's name. This was definitely no accidental encounter.

"Maggie?" Carlos said, looking at his wife.

She nestled in close to the joyrider, stood facing Carlos. "You killed your mother," she said. "You crossed a line, Charlie. How do I know that you won't kill me? Or Sofia?"

Holy shit. Maggie was behind this? Bad enough that she'd want to get rid of his mum, but she was planning on getting rid of him as well? Fuck, what a bitch. Carlos felt stupid to have been so misled for so long.

"Christ's sake," he said. "Don't be fucking ridiculous."

"Is it?" Maggie said. "I thought long and hard about it. If you can bump off your mother, nobody's safe. Seems fucking logical to me."

"I'd never hurt Sofia."

"Right," Maggie said. "But you'd hurt me?"

"I didn't say that."

"You don't know how scary you are, Charlie. What you do. And it's bad enough when I'm not involved. But look what you've made me do now. I'm an accessory to murder. You think I like driving around with that thing in the back?" Her chin wobbled. "It fucking creeps me out. You creep me out. I need to protect myself."

He could tell her the truth. But, he thought, it was too late for that. He reached forward and turned the engine on.

"Hey," the guy said. "What d'you think you're doing? You're not going anywhere."

No, but the engine was making enough noise to allow Jordan to get the zip pulled down without being heard.

"I'm cold all of a sudden," Carlos said. "Just wanted to warm my hands."

"Turn it off."

"Just a couple of minutes."

"Turn it off!"

Carlos sighed, turned it off. Jordan was out of the bag now, but Carlos needed to keep talking, make a noise so he could get out of the van. "Do you have a name?" he asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Don't you think I deserve to know the name of the man who kills me?"

"Should I tell him?" the guy asked Maggie.

"It's Bob," she said to Carlos.

"Bob," Carlos repeated.

"My sister's boyfriend."

Carlos tapped his fingertips together. It was tough not to look, see if the kid was out of the vehicle yet. But Carlos focused his attention on Bob. "You're the guy who got the van for us?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Gave Maggie all that info about burning it?"

"Yeah."

"So you're a killer as well as a car thief and arsonist?"

"Only once."

Carlos looked him in the eye. The bastard wasn't bluffing. "So what's between you and Maggie?" he asked. "Why would you kill me for her? What'd she offer you? Money? Sex?"

Bob was about to speak when there was a muscle-clenching bang and something slapped against the side of the van. Carlos made out a dark splotch above Bob's nose, and then Bob swayed, fell forward, bounced off the bonnet and slumped to the ground.

Maggie jumped back, and when she saw Jordan with his still-smoking gun pointed at her, she ran.

Carlos said, "No," as he shoved the door open and scooped up Bob's Glock off the road. "No, Jordan," he said. "Maggie, stop."

She looked behind her, still running, beyond the police car.

Carlos aimed at her. "Maggie," he said.

She kept looking at him, stumbling sideways.

His hand was steady. He squeezed the trigger.

A flash in his hand and her leg buckled under her. She fell into the grass at the side of the road. "Shit," she said, in a strangled voice. "You fucking bastard. This fucking hurts. Fuck, it hurts."

That's a bonus, Carlos thought, and slammed his fist into the van door.

She started to crawl forward. There was a barbed-wire fence which she might have managed to climb over had it not been for her wounded leg. But she was clearly in too much pain to get to her feet, let alone hurdle a fence.

Carlos didn't have to walk very fast to catch up with her.

Once he got there, he strolled alongside her, slowly, as she inched along in the grass, left leg dragging. Looked like the bullet had caught her in the thigh.

"I never slept with him," she said.

Carlos didn't answer. He just shivered.

"Fuck you," she said. She gasped, panted for breath. "Why did you stop Jordan from killing me?"

"No questions, Maggie. We're beyond that now."

"You still love me. You don't want me to die."

"You think?"

"Charlie, you know this is all fucked up. I thought you'd killed your mother. I didn't realise she wasn't in that fucking bodybag. What were you playing at?"