Chapter 20

Chapter 20

She was a curious figure – statuesque, powerful, clad in biking leathers. She didn't belong in this hole, amongst the discarded vehicles and discarded people. This was a dumping ground for society's refuse, a place where things came to rot and die, her surprising, energetic presence here providing a rare spark of life.

For all that, the woman's sudden appearance troubled Ryan Marwood deeply. It had been obvious from the start that she was police, despite her attire. Even if she hadn't flashed her warrant card at his terrified boss, you couldn't mistake her sense of purpose, her authority. She was a copper, probably a senior one. But why was she here? What was she after?

Ryan watched the departing officer mount her motorbike, then turned away from the window, crossing quickly to his locker. Tugging off his hi-vis jacket and tossing it inside, he pondered his next move, suddenly consumed with unease. He could ask Chapman straight out why she'd singled out this dump for special attention; the bumbling half-wit was too hapless to be able to hide anything. But could he do so without exciting his suspicion? This clearly wasn't an idle enquiry; the experienced officer had had an express purpose for visiting today and had discharged her duty urgently and effectively, the whole interview lasting less than ten minutes. Even now, Ryan could see a sweaty Chapman pacing the portacabin office, hectoring his wife, who sat in front of her computer, looking stressed and scared. No, perhaps the best course of action was to sit tight, see what he could glean from the other lads over the next day or so, what titbits of information Chapman let slip. There was no point panicking, not yet at least.

Grabbing his rucksack, Ryan was about to head off when a voice rang out close by.

‘In a hurry, mate?'

Startled, he froze, turning to discover a burly frame filling the doorway. To his relief, it was just Eze, smiling warmly at him.

‘Shift's over, buddy,' he replied swiftly. ‘No point hanging around …'

Slinging the rucksack over his shoulder, Ryan headed towards his co-worker.

‘Same,' Eze replied, tugging on his jacket. ‘Jack and me were going to have a couple at the Sailor's Boy, if you fancy it?'

For a moment, Ryan appeared to consider the invitation, then pulled a face.

‘I'd love to, but guess what? I've got an AA meeting tonight …'

Eze laughed, long and loud.

‘You still doing that shit?'

‘No choice,' Ryan moaned theatrically. ‘If I don't, I'm straight back inside.'

‘Man, oh man …' his companion replied sympathetically, stepping aside to make way for him. ‘Another time, then …'

‘For sure.'

Clapping Eze on the shoulder, Ryan went on his way, confident that his lie had been swallowed. Even so, he made sure to cast a swift look over his shoulder as he left the site, content to see that his co-worker had disappeared from view. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ryan upped his speed, half walking, half jogging as he put some distance between himself and their prying eyes. Only when he was confident that he was no longer in sight did he suddenly dart to the left, finding a tear in the chain-link fence and pushing through it.

Now Ryan was in the scrub, still visible from the site if anyone happened to be on a high station, so he broke into a run, covering the ground quickly, before pushing into the dense woodland that flanked the site. Now the going became slower, the foliage thick and heavy, but he knew this path like the back of his hand, and within five minutes he'd emerged into a small copse on the other side of the wood. Here, half hidden by the dense bushes, was his prize. His beloved Renault Movano.

Normally, Ryan would have leapt straight in, roaring off, his anticipation high, his adrenaline pumping. But following this afternoon's site visit by the police, caution was required. Kneeling down by the registration plate, Ryan pulled a screwdriver from his backpack, deftly removing the screws. Then, tugging the new plates from his bag, he teased off the old ones and replaced them. Satisfied, he took in his work – OT16 VXL was now OP15 NMD – before moving swiftly round the vehicle to replace the rear plate. The whole enterprise had taken less than two minutes, but would save him years in prison. Rising, Ryan tossed the old plates into the bushes and hurried round to the cab. Maybe he was being paranoid, overcautious, but when the stakes were so high, there was no question of being careless.

Smiling to himself, Ryan Marwood fired up the engine and roared off into the night.