Wild Fiction

Rebecca could see no sign of the author. She felt the muscle in her thigh knot into a tight ball of pain. It was cramp telling her that she had been sitting in that position for too long. She lowered herself out of the tree and massaged her thigh. Pushing against the tree she stretched the muscle and then rubbed it again. She swung her arms and twisted her body behind the tree. When her body was feeling limbered up again, she doubled over and made her way behind the garden wall. She kept behind the bushes and as close to the house as she could safely get without being seen. Then she made a dash for the garage. Genevieve’s VW bug was missing but the red Jaguar was still there. She looked at the damage the car had sustained on the back left panel and felt a sudden empathy for the car. The jangling of keys from inside the house and the sound of footsteps coming towards the door focussed her attention. There was not enough time to make the basement door, there was only one thing for it. She grabbed the boot of the car and pulled. It moved only a fraction; the dent had reshaped the boot and made it stick. She pulled as hard as she could, putting all of her weight into it. The boot sprung up and she jumped in pulling it down after her. She heard the door leading to the kitchen open and then Genevieve’s light footsteps. The car door slammed and the engine roared to life, sending a shiver down the car and into the boot where Rebecca was huddled. She could feel the car move and with one hand holding the boot lid inches open, she pulled the laces from her trainers. She tied one lace to the inside lid and latch to prevent it from flying opening. The other lace she rolled in a ball and wedged it between the car and the boot to prevent it from locking her in. She peered out through the narrow band of light that entered her new prison. She recognised the lane leading down to town and parts of Epsom village. All the road signs she saw showed where they had just come from. Most of the names meant nothing to her but they stuck in her mind as her photographic memory recorded them. She recognised the name Brixton, which was the last sign she saw before the car came to a stop.
She felt the car shudder as Genevieve slammed the door and heard another door open. The only sound after that was the sound of cars on a distant road. A two-stroke motorcycle buzzed into range and then disappeared again. She could see a parking lot through the slit. She untied the shoelace and slowly let the boot lid open while peering around. Parked next to the Jaguar was a midnight blue BMW 320i with a small dent in the boot. She briefly thought about threading the laces into her trainers and putting them on again but dismissed it as too time consuming.
In front of the cars was a red door with the name Astor Steel printed on it. One of many entrances to a windowless warehouse. She pressed her ear against the door but could hear nothing. She put both hands on the round knob, turned it tentatively, and pulled it towards her. It opened without a squeak to reveal a corridor with doors leading off it. Each door had a window hatched with quarter inch internal wire. She padded down the corridor in her socks until she came to a door with voices coming from behind it. Stencilled on the door with black spray paint was the number 40A. With one eye, she peered around the corner of the window and into the room. Genevieve stood in an empty room with her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. Standing in front of her were Hog and Corp. At their feet was a large black body bag with a fat silver zip running down the length of it. She could hear what they were saying now.
‘I said I wanted proof that he was dead first,’ Genevieve said.
‘We have plenty of proof of that, do you have the bearer bonds?’ Corp said in his thick cockney accent.
‘Yes I have. It’s a single bond for the full amount.’
‘That’ll do so long as it’s the amount we agreed.’
Genevieve uncrossed her arms, pulled the envelope out of her handbag, and held it in the air. ‘Show me,’ she said looking down at the bag.