A Voyage in the Near Distance 1: From Here to Nearly There Page 6

  In all, the building was surprisingly pleasant to look at. Certainly it was more attractive than the little petrol station that squatted nearby.

  Now, I offer my empathy (or whatever) to the architect because of something he plainly had not been consulted on. For, you see, there was attached to the building, and I cannot stress the word ‘attached’ enough for it was literally just stuck to the side, the afore mentioned hotel. I understand that corporations have a need to establish and maintain branding throughout their mighty realm, but this crossed a serious line. No thought, zero thought, had been given to blending the hotel’s blocky, convenient-to-Manchester-airport style with the sweeping attempts at aestheticism that had gone into the service station itself. It was ghastly.

  Upon entering, I saw a crowd roughly commiserate with the number of cars in the car park. That is to say, there were not many people in there. As a frequent traveler along motorways like the A1(M), I am often surprised by how few people really avail themselves of the sheer luxury of pulling off the road in order to obtain essentials like, say, a cup of coffee or a spoken book edition of Jamie Oliver’s latest attempt at telling people what to eat. (I hear he even cries during a few chapters.)

  Being exhausted, I opted for the more up-market coffee selection vended nearby in a large, oval-shaped Costa coffee. The size that I selected was less like a cup and more akin to a thing farmers employ to keep cattle happy. As I have said, it had been a long day.

  Having accomplished my goal of caffeine acquisition, I set out for some heartier sustenance. To that end, I bypassed the upmarket Marks & Spencer grocery in favor of the slightly more convenient WH Smith located nearby. Inside, I spent an inordinate amount of time selecting items Mr. Oliver would have been truly appalled by.

  With my selections made, I trundled up to the counter ready to exchange good money for sugar and, if I am honest, even more sugar. I was actually starting to relax a bit as the pastiche of normalcy seduced me into complacency. For whole minutes, I did not think of police or the possibility that I would end the evening in the company of burly men with a penchant for warm embraces and chaps who answer to ‘Betty.’

  So you will find it reasonable that, as I finished my transaction, I felt of frisson of excitement upon seeing Allie entering the building. Her expression had lost all of the playfulness and sheepish guilt that she had displayed intermittently during our drive. These had been replaced entirely by a look of serious concern. She was worried about something. No, that was not right. She was spooked by something.

  She turned her head until she ascertained my location. I had just completed my transaction and was hoisting a bag of sweets as she closed the distance. I was about to hand her the Twix when she took my arm and dragged me out into the common area.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Shut up. Just follow me.”

  I did so, and we soon made it about halfway down the shopping promenade. She turned quickly and dragged me into the mini-casino appropriately (or not) called “The Lucky Charm.”

  “Wait here.” She positioned me at a coin-operated machine and walked away. I watched her continue down into the station. I waited there, dumbly, for a few minutes until she returned. When she did, I noted that she had a bag stuffed full with various items.

  “I may have over-estimated how long it would take the owner of the license plates to call the cops.”

  She gestured toward the front of the building. Our car was parked in the first row of spaces not reserved for the disabled. As those were empty, I was afforded a clear view of the little Fiat.

  Standing by it was a lone police officer. I wondered for a moment if it was merely a coincidence that he was standing so close. A few times, he turned his head as though he was looking at the number plate. My heart skipped a few beats as he turned to look directly at me. Could he know my face? Were images of Allie and me being broadcast on the evening news? It seemed very unlikely for such a minor crime.

  An eternity seemed to pass as the officer and I stared each other down. Of course I was too far back and the casino too poorly lit for him to actually see and recognize me, but that is how it seemed. He began to nod his head and move his lips, and I realized that he was having a conversation via the radio clipped to his jacket.

  “Crap,” I extemporized.

  “Yeah,” Allie concurred.

  “What do we do?”

  Allie had already turned away from me. She was scanning the interior of the casino. I did the same and quickly noted an exit. She stopped me as I moved toward it.

  “Wait,” she said in a hiss. She pointed to the red bar over the door handle. “It’s an emergency exit.”

  “Well, this is an emergency, and I am exiting.”

  “And you’ll sound the alarm, you idiot. We’ve only got one cop to worry about. You’ll have a small army here in seconds. And how far do you think we’ll get on foot anyway?”

  “He’s on his radio!” I shouted in a faux whisper. “He’s already called for backup. I’m done. I’m out. This has been a huge mistake, and I decline to continue.”

  “Carver, calm down. We just have to think.”

  “Think about what? It’s over, Allie.”

  She came very close to me and gave me a hard look.

  “It’s never over. I am not finished yet.” Backing away, she said, “Now be quiet and let me think.”

  She started examining our surroundings with intensity. I, being generally useless, did not. Besides, what was there for me to do? Build a time machine from a keno box? Instead, I turned to look back at the police officer. He was looking off toward the motorway. I soon knew why.

  “He’s got help,” I said.

  “Great. Now shut up.”

  Sweat began to pour down my back as the second car drove in. It pulled into the parking space adjacent to ours. My heart bounced up and down in my chest as not one, but two officers alighted from the newly arrived cruiser.

  “Jesus, there’s three of them. Allie? Did you hear me?”

  If she had heard me, she was ignoring me. While I was observing the police, she was busy rummaging through items in the bag. She had selected and discarded various boxes and cans, seeming to find them all wanting for relevant practical value. Had she bought all of these things or shoplifted them?

  Her conduct was creating something of a spectacle and drawing more attention than I would have liked. It happened that a young couple walked into view just as Allie, in mild disgust, hurled a can to the ground. The couple did their best not to stare while, frankly, openly staring at us. The man saw me looking at him and tried to mask his curiosity with concern.

  “You all right, mate?” he asked.

  “Car’s broken down,” Allie replied, “Sick kid at home, need to get back in a hurry.”

  The man did not know which emotion to display. He just looked confused. His companion spoke.

  “Oh, well, you know they have a mechanic here and-”

  “Not enough money, genius, that’s why we’re gambling,” Allie said. Then she shot a look at them, “Can we have your car?”

  “What? Well, I don’t think…” the man trailed off.

  “Then fuck off. Thank you.” They remained in place, staring fixedly. Allie said, “Shoo,” and they walked on. She returned to her work.

  I gave her a light punch to the shoulder.

  “Nice. Very subtle. You made a real impression on them.”

  She ignored me.

  “An impression is not something you want to make on a witness, Allie.” I was whispering loudly by this time.

  “It. Doesn’t. Matter. We just need to get away and back to the Moors. Then everything will be fine.”

  “Why don’t we head out the side exit? There’s a seating area outside with a tiny wall around it. We could hop over and-”

  “Look at the door,” she said.

  I ventured a step outside of the casino and looked down toward the side exit. She had known, as I should have, that one of the c
ops would take up position just there. She was right, and I now saw the officer just walking up to hold station outside. I retreated back into the casino.

  “There’s a cop out there.”

  “Yeah,” was all she said.

  I noticed that she held in her hand one of those tire-inflation devices that we have all seen, never purchased, and pledged to acquire while stranded on the side of a busy road. I could only guess at what she had in mind.

  Turning back to the source of my anxiety, I saw that one of the new officers stood by our car. I assumed his partner was the one standing by the side exit. I did not see the third.

  Realizing this, I began to scan about, hoping to see him elsewhere in the car park. Try as I might, however, I did not spy him anywhere. For long moments, I hoped and prayed that he would appear walking toward his comrades. I tried to visualize them all getting into police cars and driving away. This was, of course, a futile hope. Obviously, I did not see him because he was heading inside.

  I leaned into the aisle to catch a glimpse of the main entrance. As I expected, I immediately caught sight of the officer walking inside. The door swung open and shut as he entered, his head turning to scan the interior.

  How long would it take? I did not bother to wonder if he would be successful in finding us. Of course he would be. The only question was how much time Allie had to do whatever it was she had in mind. I turned to look at her and noticed that she was clearly no closer to finishing her work than she had been minutes before. Fear consumed me, and I started to shake.

  Closing my eyes to regain some control, I took in several deep breaths. This served only to cause the inhalation of the artificial odorants used to keep the casino smelling friendly and beckoning. My head swirled in the miasma of air freshener and the irritating din of gambling machines. It passed after a moment, and I opened my eyes. I watched as the officer walked down the row of eateries and shops. We could be anywhere, so the odds were that he would not enter our specific location quite soon. For all I knew, Allie would have enough time to do whatever it was she had in mind. I even fancied that he may have walked inside to get something to eat. Maybe he would buy a sandwich and depart?

  Alas, that was not to be. As though driven by a psychic impulse, the officer made only the most cursory scan of the common area and then aimed directly for the WH Smith. I took a few careful steps outside. This allowed me to observe the officer walk up to the cash register where I had only minutes before bought a rather appalling amount of candy. That was not terribly unusual, so the odds were not great that the cashier would remember me for standing out.

  Unsatisfied, the officer left the store and returned to the common area. I snuck back into the casino and hid behind another machine. From there, I could clearly track his progress. His course took him into the Costa Coffee shop. For a moment, this was met with neutrality in my mind because I had definitely made no impression in that store.

  Then I realized that we were finished. I knew it. This was inescapably so because I saw, waiting in line to order coffee, the young couple that Allie had frightened away only minutes before. There was no doubt that she had given them reason to recall her.

  I peered at the officer as he spoke first to the cashier. I saw a noncommittal shrug from the girl working the register. Then the couple spoke up and got the officer’s attention. Of course they knew who he was looking for. I cringed as they turned to point in our direction. He nodded and thanked them.

  “Shit. He’s coming this way.”

  She said nothing. Her hands were working the lid of another box. She ignored me.

  The officer began to walk directly toward us. My heartbeat thrummed louder in my ears, and I fought the urge to bolt. I stood frozen instead, but only by employing considerable will. My breathing alternated between labors and surges. I was sure I would pass out soon.

  I watched the policeman as he made his way from the coffee shop and into the small crowd of people milling about. He continued his scan; his head turning side to side even though he knew perfectly well where his prey must lie.

  Although he gave away no hint of having spied his fugitives, he suddenly changed course and walked off in a direction perpendicular to his original. He seemed to have stopped scanning and, instead, had begun a terminal course toward something of interest. That could not be us, of course, so I began to ask why he had chosen to execute such a diversion from his course. Had he decided to collect his partner for backup? Soon he walked out of sight.

  “I’ve lost him.”

  Allie said nothing.

  “Look, he’s gone to the other side of the place. We can make a break for it. Go into the common area and to the main exit. We can get away.”

  “Nearly there,” she said.

  I was infuriated by her paying me no heed.

  “Allie!” It was just more than a whisper. “We can get out of here, let’s go!”

  She shot me a glance.

  “Go where? Are you planning on shooting your way to the car?”

  “Maybe there’s a way out the back. We can slip outside and then come up with something. Or maybe we can take the lift upstairs.”

  “Won’t work,” was her reply.

  “Then what? We wait here for him to find us?”

  “I’ll have some options if he does that.”

  “Allie, you can’t mean violence.”

  Her expression conveyed that violence of some sort might well be on the table, so to speak. I thought back to the odd little medicine disc she had used earlier. That had been concealed well enough in her clothing that I had not discovered it by patting her down. Might she have some other interesting object secreted on her person? Some deadly toy that a covert agent would use in this type of situation? Maybe she had to get the officer close enough to employ it?

  The disc. The medicine disc.

  Something clicked in my mind. That object had been unusual to say the least. Really it had been something totally new to me and apparently quite exotic. How had she come by it?

  The reason this is significant, reader, is simple. From the moment she had failed to know one of the most memorable motion pictures of all time, through her being unable to tell me the name of a common candy bar, until that little epiphany; I had been debating whether Allie was in her right mind. Insanity would have explained so much. It would have made things very, very simple.

  “You’re not crazy,” I said lamely. Part of me actually felt disappointed. Another was frightened.

  “What?”

  I made no reply.

  “Well, thank you, I guess,” she said.

  There was no elaboration. I am pretty certain that she failed to grasp the significance of my observation, but I trust you do not. Allie was not an insane mental patient recently escaped from an institution. She was sane. She had to be. Worse, she was in possession of something exotic and, at least to me, unknown. That made her, what?

  I shuddered myself back into the moment. How long had the police officer been out of sight now? I could not remember. It had to be mere moments, but it felt like minutes. My mouth was dry, and I struggled to swallow.

  A second later, the jig was up.

  “Pardon me, miss. Can I have a word with you?”

  I drowned in silence. All the world stopped cold and dead. Time itself was extinguished; it died out in a place where there was no past or present, only a bleak future. I did not breathe for a long while as I considered the implications of those words. Those very, very English words that meant, “You are in serious trouble. Come with me now, so I can dispatch you to a truly awful place as quickly and quietly as possible. Abandon all hope.”

  I rotated my body on its axis and gazed at the officer. He had evidently walked the perimeter of the building and come up from an angle where we would not observe his approach. He stood perfectly calm with an expression that was not hostile in the slightest; a neutral visage that conveyed an authoritative invitation to chat.

  Whatever clever ploy Allie had in m
ind had failed. I saw in her hands that the anti-flat-tire can was covered in scratches from where she must have been attempting to fashion a device. I would later learn that she was attempting to improvise a distraction. The purpose of that distraction had been, I am slightly troubled to say, violence.

  If you knew Allie as I do now, you would appreciate how utterly out of character that was for her. Indeed, such knowledge would have instantly conveyed to me just how dire she viewed the current situation. In the end, it did not matter. She never had a chance.

  “Miss?” The officer repeated himself. I looked at Allie, hunched over and obviously defeated. It was clear that, regardless of my fate in this affair, hers would be far worse. There was something driving her that required performance and achievement. I saw her eyes close as the acceptance of failure invaded her. There was within me a profound desire to hug her and offer succor. Of course, I did nothing more than stand stock-still.

  Allie stood, the can dropping from her hands. It rattled on the floor and rolled toward the pile of debris at her feet. When it stopped, a small pop came from it followed by a wheezing sound. So much for a distraction.

  Confident (as he had every right to be) in his suspects’ utter acquiescence, the officer picked up his transmitter and began to speak.

  “21, 46. We can add BOP. And there’s two of them. Come to the front of the casino, please.”

  I felt like crying. I may actually have started to do so, but my recollection of the next few moments is a bit hazy.

  I thought for a moment that the officer might have been employing some sort of earpiece. I say that because for several moments, there was no reply. The delay was not lost on the officer.

  “21, 46, do you copy?” The police officer said.

  A crackling sound came from his radio. I thought I heard a voice, but I remain unsure as to that point.

  The officer repeated himself. This too was followed by static. I soon heard a voice that was distinct, albeit distorted and barely coherent.