‘… so Green says, “We can never underestimate the lengths that desperate people will go to.” And Steel says—’
‘Got to go.’ Logan stabbed the disconnect button, paid for his coffee, stuck his sticky bun in his mouth, and hurried out into the rain.
Fairview Street was less than two hundred yards away. Barely worth taking the car … except for the pouring rain. The university playing fields lay on one side of the road – a swathe of dark-green grass, partially hidden by a screen of trees. Fluorescent green leaves, pink-and-white blossom shuddering in the downpour.
The other side was taken up by a sprawling housing development of beige boxes with brown pantile roofs. A line of huge metal pylons marched through the middle, making for the other side of the river, their tops brushing the low grey clouds.
Logan peered out through the windscreen, looking for someone hanging about.
No one.
The road took a ninety degree turn to the right, heading into the housing estate.
Logan pulled the pool car into the kerb and his phone bleeped up another text message.
‘I see U.’
A small grass embankment ran along the side of the road, then a bumpy lane, then a chain-link fence, then the playing fields. A shape, on the other side of the fence, peered out between the trees, waving at him.
Logan killed the engine and climbed out. Rain hammered against his face and ears, soaking straight through his hair. He plipped the locks on the pool car, stuck the keys in his pocket and flexed his aching left hand. Fist. Open. Fist. Open. Bloody thing was getting worse.
He clambered over the grassy hump, crunched across the lane, then waded through soggy, knee-high grass towards—
FUCK.
A huge black dog launched itself at him, gaping mouth snapping and snarling. It crashed against the chain-link; the fence buckled outwards …
Logan backed away a couple of paces.
Jesus that was a big dog.
‘Uzi, fuckin’ cool it.’ The guy holding its lead gave a yank, and the massive Rottweiler stood for a second glaring at Logan, then settled onto its haunches. ‘Sorry ’bout that. He’s only a puppy. Gets excited.’ The man sniffed, wiped a bandaged hand across his squint nose, two fingers and a thumb poking out from the filthy fabric. His eyes were hidden in the shadow of a NYY baseball cap worn under a grey hoodie. A leather jacket on over the top, glistening in the rain.
‘Shuggie?’ Logan took a step forward, and Uzi growled. Might be a better idea to just stay exactly where he was. He dug his aching hand into his pocket. ‘Shuggie Webster?’
‘You gonna give us them drugs back, or what?’
‘Pin back your ears and listen: I’m – not – giving – you – any – drugs. OK? No drugs.’
The big man hung his head, chewed on the ragged tip of a finger. A pair of handcuffs dangled from his wrist, the metal shiny against the grubby bandage. ‘Fuck.’
‘What do you expect; I’m a police officer.’
‘You’ve got to. They’re gonna hurt Trisha again. They beat the shite out her mum, trashed the house … And what if they go after her kid?’
‘Come on, Shuggie: it’s over. You’re still under arrest from Thursday. Come down the station, make a statement, and we’ll get whoever’s threatening you off the streets.’
He raised his chin, and Logan finally got a look at his face: a black eye, a crust of blood around both nostrils, a beige sticking plaster across the bridge of his squint nose. ‘I’m no’ fuckin’ daft, OK? What’s gonna happen when you bang me up, eh? Fuckin’ eight-inch chib in the guts. No thank you.’ Shuggie Webster straightened up. ‘How’d you like it: some cunt comes round your crib, threatens your missus? Would you hand yourself in?’
‘Well, I’d—’
‘Would you fuck.’ He turned away from the fence. ‘Come on, Uzi.’
‘You’re still under arrest, Shuggie!’
He stuck up a pair of fingers. There was blood seeping through the bandage.
‘Shuggie!’ Logan pullefd out his pepper-spray and yanked the lid off. There was a hole in the fence, less than a dozen feet away. All he had to do was nip through and make the arrest.
Pepper-spray worked on dogs … didn’t it?
He watched the muscles bunch and roll beneath the Rottweiler’s shiny black hide.
Swallowed.
OK, it was all about appearing confident and in control of the situation.
Logan marched through the soggy grass to the hole in the fence, ducked through, and hurried after Shuggie. ‘I’m not telling you again: you’re under arrest.’
Confident and in control.
Shuggie stopped where he was. Turned. ‘Get fucked. Told you: I’m no’ goin’ nowhere.’
‘I’m serious, Shuggie. You’re coming with me.’
‘Oh aye?’ He smiled, showing a gap where a tooth used to be. Then he let go of the lead. ‘Uzi – BACON!’
The dog looked up at him, then followed the line of the pointing finger to Logan. Bared his teeth.
‘Oh … bugger …’ Pepper-spray. He had the pepper-spray! Perfectly safe. Confident and in control. Confident and—
The dog lurched forward.
Sod ‘confident and in control’, Logan turned and ran.
Barking behind him, snarling, the sound of huge paws splashing through puddles.
Closer.
Make for the fence, get back through the hole and … No way in hell he could outrun a Rottweiler. He glanced over his shoulder.
Right behind him, mouth open, red and slavering, like the jaws of hell …
FUCK!
Logan jinked right, and Uzi flashed past, tried to turn – powerful back legs skidding across the waterlogged grass, sending up a wall of spray.
Jesus, the bloody thing was the size of a bear.
Tree! Logan jumped for the nearest one, wrapped his arms around a branch, hauled himself up. Or tried to. A sudden jerk back, knives slashing across his ankle, then a ripping sound as his trouser leg gave way. ‘AAAAAghhh …’
The ground slammed into his back, ripping the breath from his lungs; and then the huge dog was on top of him, teeth flashing inches from Logan’s face.
Fuck
