Dan Abnett - Border Princes

‘Posh houses,’ said Gwen. ‘I hate posh bloody houses with names. Look. Bindreamin ’. What the bloody hell is that about?’

James shrugged.

‘ Bindreamin ’. I ask you. Do you think it’s the home of a retired garbage collector?’

‘That would be Binladen , surely?’

‘Oh, you’re going to hell then,’ she said.

‘You know what Julius Caesar called his house?’ James asked.

She looked at him. ‘This is a joke, isn’t it? Hang on. The Laurels ? No, no, wait… Caesar’s Palace ?’

‘ Dunroman ,’ he said.

She winced. ‘I do not believe you actually had the nerve to crack that one,’ she said. Her phone rang.

‘Yeah, hello?’

‘Concentrate. Please ,’ said Jack’s voice.

They looked back down the street at Jack, and Gwen gave him a cheery wave.

‘Will do,’ she said into her phone and hung up.

They went past two more driveways.

‘And as for friggin’ gnomes,’ she began.

James touched her arm. She followed his line of sight. Across the street, down a gravel driveway, a young, good-looking man in a suit was standing at a front door with his back to them. He had a briefcase under his arm. He was talking to a middle-aged woman in a housecoat. The house was called Idlewhile .

Gwen pressed a fastkey on her phone. She let it ring once then hung up. Far away, down the street, Jack turned and immediately began making his way back towards them.

James and Gwen started across the road. They approached the gate.

‘Hang back,’ Gwen said quietly. ‘It’ll spook him right off if he sees two of us.’ James obediently stepped back behind a dwarf conifer at the gate post.

Gwen stopped in the open gateway.

‘Excuse me!’ she called.

The man turned and looked at her with a slightly baffled, slightly annoyed expression. The middle-aged woman didn’t react at all.

‘Excuse me,’ Gwen repeated. ‘Is that your van parked back there?’

‘What?’

‘Your van? The ice-cream van?’

‘Who are you?’ the man asked. He was stiff, wary. His briefcase lay in the crook of his arm, like a clipboard. It was unzipped.

‘I’m only asking because I could fancy a Ninety-Nine just now. Any chance?’

The man took a few steps back up the driveway towards her. He stared at her. The woman remained in the doorway of Idlewhile , gazing into space.

‘Are you joking?’ he asked.

‘No. I love Ninety-Nines, me.’

He took another step closer.

‘Are you police?’ he asked.

‘Maybe I am. Maybe I’m here to check your ice-cream permit. Maybe I’m from the cones hotline. Maybe I’ve come to examine your wafer waiver. Geddit?’

‘What?’

‘Now I’m joking. Keep up.’ She fixed him with a bright grin. ‘How d’you do it, then?’

‘How do I do what?’

‘What’ve got in the briefcase? What’s your secret?’

Dean Simms swallowed. He squeezed the soft lump in his briefcase.

Gwen took a step back. She got a sudden, strong smell of cut-grass and vanilla.

She turned and walked away. James stared at her as she went past him.

‘What are you doing?’ he hissed.

‘Oh, there you are,’ she smiled.

‘What are you doing?’

She shrugged. ‘I… I dunno…’

‘Gwen?’

The man with the briefcase came out of the driveway behind her and saw James. His face darkened.

James moved towards him.

‘These aren’t the droids you’re looking for,’ the man said.

‘What?’ asked James. ‘You what?’

Dean Simms gazed at James. ‘These aren’t the… you… you’re supposed to… ‘He squeezed the soft lump again.

‘Give me the briefcase,’ said James.

Dean hesitated, then turned and ran off down the street. A second later, Jack pounded by in pursuit.

‘Come on!’ Jack yelled as he went past.

‘Again with the running?’ James wailed, and set off after them.

Gwen, wrinkling her nose, stood there for a moment. She watched the three running figures recede down the street.

‘Y-? What-w-?’ she said. She turned around, then looked back at them. ‘Where are you going?’ she shouted. She paused. ‘Why am I standing here?’ she asked herself.

‘Why am I talking to myself?’ she added.

She started off after them. They’d all but disappeared, and she was only jogging half-heartedly. She took out her phone and dialled. It answered after three rings.

‘James?’

The line was distorted and choppy with breathing noises. ‘Running,’ he replied, with effort.

‘About that. Why are you and Jack running away from me?’

‘We’re not. We’re. Running after. The Guy.’

‘OK. What guy?’

‘The guy. We’re looking. For. He hyp. Notised you.’

‘No, honestly? I don’t remember that.’

‘Well. You would. N’t. Can’t talk. Gotta puke.’

He hung up.

‘Hypnotised?’ Gwen said to herself, jogging to a halt. She brushed hair out of her eyes and frowned with the effort of thinking.

Her eyes widened. ‘Ooooooooh,’ she said, nodding.

She started to run.

‘Is it my imagination, or is that getting worse?’ Owen asked.

Toshiko’s hands ran across her keyboard. ‘It’s not your imagination. That’s really getting hot. How could it just pop out of nowhere?’

‘Same way everything else does,’ said Owen. ‘Got a fix yet?’

‘Area only. Cathays, I think. I’m narrowing the search focus. Should have a street name or a GPS fix in about three minutes. Less, if it keeps getting hotter.’

‘Jack needs to know about this,’ Owen said.

‘Oh, absolutely,’ she agreed.

‘Ianto!’ Owen yelled. ‘Get Jack on the blower!’

Ianto picked up a cordless and pressed auto-dial.

‘It’s ringing,’ he said.

Jack and James came around the street corner almost neck and neck. They had to break formation to go either side of a pillar box.

‘There!’ James yelled, pointing.

This street was busier than the residential roads they had come out of. Some shops, some traffic, a muddle of people. Ahead of them, they could see the fugitive.

Dean had been forced to slow down, simply in order to duck and weave around the pedestrians in his path. He’d already bumped into one old lady. He risked a glance backwards.

The two men were still on his tail: the big, dark-haired guy in the long coat, and the leaner blond who’d challenged him. What were they? CID? He’d juiced the girl well enough, even though it had been off the cuff and desperate, but the blond guy hadn’t even flinched.

How the bloody hell had he resisted?

‘He got to Gwen,’ James yelled, leaping a toddler on reins.

‘That much was obvious,’ replied Jack, turning his body sidelong to fit between two bewildered Bengali women.

Jack’s phone started to ring. Still running, he hooked on his Bluetooth.

‘This is Jack.’

‘Owen for you,’ said Ianto’s voice.

‘Jack-’ Owen began.

‘Kinda busy, Owen!’ Jack replied, grunting as he barely avoided colliding with an opening car door.

‘That’s great. We’ve got a situation.’

‘Gee, so have we. Call me back.’

In the Hub, Owen lowered the phone from his ear and made ‘can you believe that?’ eyes at Ianto.

‘I swear, he never takes me seriously,’ he said.

‘Getting hotter!’ Toshiko sang out from her station.

Owen stabbed redial.

Jack heard a crash and some squawking. He glanced over his shoulder. James had piled into an ageing hippy on a skateboard and they’d both gone over. Tin cans and potatoes clattered and rolled out of the hippy’s split shopping bags. The skateboard shot out into the road.