NAUGHTY BUT NICE?: an éclair to die for - Chapter 5

The driver was cold and bored, even with the engine running all the heating seemed to do was steam up the windows. He didn’t want to be here. What was the point of it, Dee was dead anyway, why take risks, just for revenge. He had to sit and wait until they called him. Wiping the side window with his gloved hand he saw a figure approaching in the door mirror.

The man, it was definitely a man was wearing a bright yellow reflective vest and had a thick wooly hat pulled down almost to his eyes. He was walking toward the car rather than on the path on the other side. Probably some inbreed local coming to tell him he couldn’t park here thought the driver.

Lathom walked up to the car and tapped on the driver's window with his left hand, allowing the tyre lever to slide through his right, so that he was holding it half-way down. The electric window slid slowly down and the driver gave Lathom a bad tempered scowl and said 'What?’
The first blow caught him full in the face with a satisfying crunch of bone and cartiledge. The driver cried out and put his hands to his face. Lathom opened the door and pulled him out by his collar. As he fell to the ground he hit him twice with full force on the back of his head.
Lathom dragged the body around to the other side of the car, which shielded him from the road, heaved it in through the rear door and propped it as though resting. Then climbed in the other side and went through his pockets.

Wallet, containing credit cards. Name P.R .Wilkinson, £ 235 in cash and some loose change. A mobile phone and a very vulgar chrome plated automatic. He was appalled by the last item it wasn’t a weapon more like jewellery, but decided he would have use it anyway, so he slipped it in his pocket together with the phone. Then searched the rest of the car and it’s boot for any thing useful, but found only a can of petrol and a silencer which didn’t fit the driver’s gun. Lathom got into the driver's seat, the key was still in the ignition in the centre of the dashboard. Pushed the selector into drive and moved the car onto the Philips’ drive behind his own. The privacy glass shielding the body from view if anyone had been around to look. The road was deserted and the snow still falling heavily covering all the windows in a few minutes.
Lathom examined the phone and was soon able to listen to the messages and read the texts. Why was it people needed to send so many texts about so little he thought. However he now knew the four, it was definitely four. Consisted of Wilko, who was odviously his silent companion on the back seat. Someone called CJ who was hiding at the end of the track keeping watch for him, and also very pissed off that he was the only one outside in the cold. Leaving two others, the brother and his right hand man who seemed to give most of the orders called Jacko. Lathom wondered how much longer it would be before that was Mr.Jackson.

So he thought, one down, three to go. At least the odds were getting better and he still had the element of surprise. It was they who were now trapped even if they didn’t realise it yet. Step by step, don’t rush it. Plan carefully then execute. That’s what he had been taught. A long time ago, but it still applied. He now had a gun, but no silencer. Once he fired it he would then have to shoot it out with them. He needed to reduce the odds. He couldn’t use the previous plan the other man was hiding somewhere near the end of his track, he would never get close enough that way. Couldn’t use the gun,too noisey. That just left the cutlass.

It was quite dark now, but was still snowing and the wind had got up. Visibility was getting worse. Lathom was wearing the driver's coat and hat, his gun in the inside pocket as a last resort. Tucked inside the coat he had the cutlass without it’s scabbard. While in the outside pocket he had the driver’s phone, switched to silent mode. He had climbed over the fence at the Philips’cottage and had worked his way carefully, keeping close to the hedge. He was now only a few yards from the end of his track. Still he couldn’t see anyone. He hoped that if he were spotted early, he would be mistaken for the driver.

Suddenly Lathom saw the man, he had nearly stumbled into him in the blizzard. He was huddled down behind the hedge at the end of the track, looking down the road away from him. The distance was critical, if he turned now he was close enough that CJ would see he was not the driver and have time to draw his gun. He had to get closer.

Crouching down close to the hedge, he took the cutlass out clutching it in his right hand. In his left he held the phone, flipped it open and dialled.
The man swore, stood up and fumbled in his coat. Lathom took his cue, leapt to his feet and covered the remaining yards in a surprisingly short time for someone of his age and condition.

He was almost upon him when the man turned, saying ‘Hello! hello.Speak up! I can’t hear you.' Then startled, dropped his phone and made a desperate attempt to get his gun from deep inside his coat. Lathom’s blow caught him between the collar and shoulder of his coat, biting deep into his flesh. The man let out one high piercing scream, before the second blow silenced him and partial severed his neck. He lay at Lathom’s feet a large pool of blood soaking into the snow, the phone by his side.

He switched off the driver’s phone and bent down to pick up the other phone.
Suddenly, it bleeped, it was a text message.
He checked the text. Which read 'U OK?' He thought for a minute remembered the texts from CJ on the driver’s phone, then texted 'OK but f’ing cold'.
The next read, 'What was that noise?'
He replied 'f’ing foxes'.
That seem to satisfy them and the texts stopped