Chapter 15
While the street slowly emptied, Jack and Amy continued walking, chatting, and ignoring shouts and screams, nonchalantly stepping over falling runaways.
“I’ve got a review coming up. Shit,” Amy grimaced, walking around a huddle of students helping an old man into a doorway.
“It may not be bad. She may be patting you on the back.”
“No, it’s bad. I think she’s found out I’ve been moonlighting.”
“You don’t have to do the kiddie-fiddlers on your own, you know. Have a bit of patience,” Jack sighed. “Why do you always have to steam ahead without thinking?”
“I’m Aries with Taurus rising. What can I say? We don’t do patience,” she twinkled at him.
He shook his head, ignoring her. “Besides, how would Maggie know? Pyke manages to cover for you, most of the time…for both of us.”
“Why, what do you get up to?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He gave her a side on look. “As if I’d tell you,” he smiled.
“Hey that’s not fair. You can’t slag me off for going solo when you’re doing it.”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference. You get caught and I don’t,” he sighed. “Hopefully.”
He stretched out his right arm and landed a punch to a bemused fifth gunman’s face, who was staring at the scene, wondering what the hell had happened to his colleagues.
“Who do you go after? Are you going to tell me?”
“Nope.”
“No worries. I’ll work it out,” she remarked, grinning, her eyes scanning the buildings around her, looking for movement. “Pyke has a thing for drug addicts, me, child abusers, you…I will work it out…and I wonder what Maggie’s secret passion is, her reason for being here.”
“She can’t be seen to have any. She’s one of the hierarchy. They have to be squeaky clean, whiter than white.”
“Well, that counts me out ever getting a job as a Supervisor. I’m a sort of grey tinged,” she giggled, looking over at Jack.
“A shade of grey,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning upward. She loved his smile.
“Did you read the books?” she questioned, not able to imagine Jack reading a book, particularly a sexy one.
“What books?”
“Did you see the film?” She wasn’t letting up.
“What film?” Nor was he.
“50 Shades.”
Silence.
“Just asking,” she teased. “Maybe you should, you might like it, learn something.”
“You think I’m a prude,” his voice turning cold.
“No…just saying.”
“I like sex, just like anyone else. It’s just not on my priority list at the moment.” He turned to her. “And it’s none of your business.”
She’d touched a nerve, again. Why did she always manage to make him angry?
Silence.
Time to change the subject.
“I know you laugh, Jack, but I am being watched. I’m not making it up. Someone’s following me. I’m sure of it.”
“You’re paranoid,” Jack shook his head. “We’d know. Besides, we’re invisible. No one knows we’re here…except other Units, and why would they want to follow us? They have enough on their plate... unless...” He glanced back, over his shoulder.
“Unless what? Why are you looking over your shoulder?”
He shook his head. “Nah.. I would know.”
“Know what?”
“Something that we don’t get too involved in at our level, the bosses deal with them.”
“Who?”
“The Witnesses.”
“What would they want with me, us?”
“Exactly, we are small fry to them. Trust me Amy, you’re not being followed.”
They got to the end of the road and turned to study their handiwork. Tables, chairs, billboards, garbage cans, bodies lay in the once calm sunny street. People came out of hiding, scrambling from bars, cafes, and doorways and scurried down alleyways away from the terrorists.
Amy waited for the street to clear. Five gunmen lay strewn across the cobbles, two groaning in pain, three dead. No civilians were hurt. Police sirens rumbled in the distance.
“Forensics are gonna have fun sorting this lot out,” grinned Jack.
Amy caught herself staring at him. She loved to see his smile.
“Yep. You’re getting slack, Jack. How’re they going to understand that broken neck?” She raised the handgun and aimed it at her sweating suicide bomber.
“What do you mean?”
“He… err… tripped… err… hard, very hard,” Jack gave a sheepish grin.
“Tripped hard? Are you joking? It must have been bloody hard to snap a head clean off its spine.” Amy steadied her outstretched arm. “Maybe this will help confuse them.”
She squinted at her target and pumped three bullets into his stomach. The suicide belt exploded, shattering windows, spitting fireballs, and silencing the wailing gunmen. She javelined the gun high in the air to join the scorching mess. They turned and walked down a side street.
“And how do you think the forensic boys will understand today’s death-by-coffee-mug?” teased Jack.
“He tripped… err… hard, very hard,” giggled Amy, mimicking Jack. “We can’t always give it to them on a plate. They have to have some unsolved mysteries.”
“Yeah, but if they have good evidence, they can make things stick in court. Without it, the bad boys get off.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this job,” she sighed. “I haven’t got the patience.” She looked across at Jack for comfort.
“Don’t look at me, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. You have to play by the rules…and if you don’t,” he chided. “Don’t get caught.”
She leaned her head to the side and studied him. He is so fucking handsome.
Jack, feeling uncomfortable with her gaze, ran his hand over his scarred cheek.
“Right,” he barked, checking his watch and changing the subject “Where next?”
“Soho Sid, a whorehouse in Greek Street, London. We have such nice clientele, don’t you think?”
She looked back over her shoulder at the plumes of black smoke, the sirens getting louder as they neared.
“Don’t you just love the sound of a police car? It does it for me every time. Gives me goose-bumps.”
Close by, a smouldering cigar dropped to the ground. The tip of a shiny black patent shoe stepped on the butt and slowly twisted left and right, scrunching it into the dirt. The shiny shoes calmly followed Jack and Amy into the side street, their smart ‘click-click’ resonating on the cobblestones.
Amy glanced over her shoulder, but couldn’t see anything.