Jane Higgins - The Bridge

Vega sat a while looking at her and I think he was angry, but when he spoke his voice was quiet. ‘I know what they tell you over the river about us. Let me tell you this. Not all of us are prepared to barter the bodies of children for profit.’

Fyffe dropped her head and whispered an apology.

‘No matter,’ said Vega. ‘If we can find your brother, we will.’ He stood up, greeted Lanya, and nodded at me.

Before I could work out what that meant, Jeitan came in at a run, calling, ‘News!’ He pulled up when he saw Vega and remembered to salute. ‘Sir!’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Sir, we have a lead on DeFaux’s whereabouts.’

Vega glanced at Levkova. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Where?’

‘The old art gallery in Newbourne Lane.’

‘Is that so? Well, it’s useful, certainly, but if we take him now, we’ve got no evidence.’

‘We’re not waiting until he shoots you, Sim,’ said Levkova. ‘I’ve sent word to the others. I think you’ll find you’re out-voted.’

‘Outmaneuvered, you mean. I won’t ask how you did it, but I assume you have a plan?’

‘Take him now. I think he’ll sing us a sweet little song about Terten. He has no loyalty. He’ll do what’s best for himself.’

‘That may be so but I can’t just walk in there with a squad and no proof.’

‘So we send Jeitan and Nik. They watch. They send word when he makes a move. We’ll have a squad ready once he reaches the square.’

Which is how I came to be doing an impression of a skiddy, lounging under a tree in the park – what used to be a park – in front of an ugly concrete block of a building that had once been an art gallery. They’d given me a lethal-smelling bottle of ‘shine, and a description of an assassin: fortyish, short, thin – everyone was thin here – long face, straight nose, large ears, and close-clipped, fair hair.

I was sitting there wondering how Sol was, where Sol was, when I felt the press of cold metal on the back of my neck. The chill of it charged straight down my spine.

‘Well, shit,’ Benit’s voice. ‘Just look at this. An escaped prisoner. Should we shoot it?’

‘I’m game.’ Hell. Benit and friend. ‘We’ll ask questions later, yeah?’ He laughed at his own amazing wit.

‘Get up.’ Benit again. The gun knocked at the top of my spine and I thought about the damage it could do even if he never fired it. ‘Get. Up.’ I stood up. ‘What are you doing here?’ he said. ‘Why aren’t you under lock and key up the hill?’

‘Why don’t you go up there and ask them?’

He spun me round and pushed me against the tree. ‘That mouth of yours ever get you into trouble?’

‘Now and then.’

Benit and Benit II were a match – same haircut, same sneer – but Benit II must have been junior because he didn’t have a gun. Benit senior had an elderly assault rifle. He lifted it in my face. I looked at his eyes, narrow and stony above the barrel, and wondered how worn the trigger was and how itchy his finger. ‘You should run,’ he said. ‘That’s what your riot police say, isn’t it? Run or we’ll shoot – of course what they really mean is run and we’ll shoot, but I guess you know that.’ He smiled a cold tight smile. ‘Go on, then. Run. We’ll look after your whore.’

Benit II sniggered. ‘You know what they say about city girls.’

‘I SAID RUN!’ yelled Benit.

‘Ben!’ Jeitan’s voice, behind me. I didn’t dare turn my head to look.

‘J!’ said Benit. ‘Look what I found!’

Jeitan arrived in front of us. ‘He’s with me,’ he said.

The gun wavered. ‘He’s what? He’s supposed to be locked up.’

‘Put the gun down. What’re you two doing over this side of town? You’re supposed to be drilling for parade tonight. Put it down! ‘

‘Special detail,’ said Benit and he lowered the gun. I practiced breathing.

‘For what?’ said Jeitan. ‘Who authorized it?’

‘Can’t say.’ Benit II was shooting agitated looks towards the gallery.

Jeitan watched him, frowning. ‘Protection duty?’

Benit II said, ‘A VIP for tonight.’ His partner gave him a shut-the-hell-up look and he shrugged.

‘DeFaux,’ said Jeitan. ‘You’re protecting DeFaux. Who’re your orders from?’

Benit stood up straighter. ‘High up. Can’t say. What are you doing letting City boy here walk around? Is this that old bag’s idea? I bet it is. You spend too much time with her, J. You’re turning into an old woman yourself. You’re forgetting who the real enemy is.’ He started to lift his gun again.

Jeitan hit him. And then it was on. Benit II piled into Jeitan, and I threw ‘shine into Benit II’s face and piled into him. Fists flew, boots swung – it wasn’t exactly the ultimate in hand-to-hand combat, more like wrestling mixed with landing whatever punch or kick you could.

It was over fast. We beat them into the ground. Which surprised us both. We sat on them for a while, breathing deep: Jeitan on Benit and me on Benit II, twisting their arms behind their backs when they squawked or struggled. When he could speak, Jeitan said, ‘You fight dirty. Where’d you learn that?’

‘At a very religious school. But it’s nothing to what Levkova will do to us if we’ve missed DeFaux.’

‘I don’t think we’ve missed him.’ He twisted Benit’s arm. ‘Have we? What were your orders?’

There followed a lot of swearing and arm twisting. Finally, we got ‘16.15… Discreet escort… Crossover Square.’

Jeitan checked his watch. ‘Eleven minutes. Good timing.’ He nodded at me and we climbed off them. They scrambled up. Jeitan picked up Benit’s gun and said to him, ‘Do you know why DeFaux is here? You don’t, do you? I hope you don’t. There’s a contract on Vega. He’s here to close it. Tonight.’

‘Shit. But… but… shit!’ Benit stepped back.

‘Well put,’ said Jeitan. ‘Now. The Commander will survive this. If you want to survive as well, I suggest you get back up the hill and practice being inconspicuous. Tell them you took your gun for servicing. Get lost!’

They took off.

Jeitan watched them go. He weighed Benit’s gun in his hand. ‘Want this?’

‘Not really.’ A Citysider on the streets of Southside had to be a target. An armed one might even be a legitimate target.

‘Take it.’ He handed it to me, then said, ‘I can’t believe I just did that.’ He looked doubtful. ‘Know how to use it?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Well, try and look like you do, because we’re the new escort. You know you’re bleeding?’ The bandage on my hand was soaked bright red where the stitches ran across my palm. Better not to think about it.

‘Look,’ Jeitan nodded towards the gallery. A lone figure in a long dark coat hurried down some side steps and sped away across the park.

‘That him?’ I asked.

‘That’s him. Come on.’

Crossover Square. Cracked paving stones lifting at the corners. A twice-lifesize statue of a woman standing beside a child, one of her fists lifted to the sky, the other arm around her kid. Broken chains trailing from her wrists.

The buildings enclosing the square were three and four storeys high, built of gray stone with steep roofs, balconies, fancy cast-iron railings, and gargoyles. They’d been hotels once, maybe. I don’t know who occupied them now, but one thing was clear: they were sniper heaven.

Already hundreds of people packed the square. DeFaux kept to the edges of the crowd so we were picking our way through traders’ spreads of cheap shoes, jewelry, used clothes, and much thumbed books. The greasy smell of hot chips and cheap sauce was everywhere. The afternoon was fading fast.