It Wasn't The Bullet (5) “Maybe he didn’t think you’d be able to read it and wanted to save you some embarrassment. I don’t fucking know, I’m not going anywhere.” Charlie wondered fleetingly how Samantha had managed to get the doctor involved, Green tapped Charlie on the chest and he exaggerated the pain, “Oh Jesus Christ, you’re not allowed to torture people, you’re not part of the fucking Gestapo!” Green poked his chest again and Charlie winced for real this time, tendrils of pain swept through his body. “Who did you call Charlie? The nurse told me ‘to mind my own business’ and that ‘she was doing her job which was of no concern to me’. What do you make of that? Suddenly the medical staff doesn’t want to share any information about you health. I find it all rather strange.” Charlie suddenly realised that Green was just playing with him, he didn’t suspect anything, and he was just needling him into saying or doing something so he would be transferred to a more secure facility. Charlie decided that two could play that particular game. “I’ve been thinking about your offer.” “And what have you been thinking about?” Norman Green sounded about as interested in what Charlie had to say as Ghandi had in a birthday dinner at a steak house, still Charlie carried on, “What would you offer me if I did turn snitch? I mean if you say you’ve got me on a murder, how are you going to fix it so I don’t go to jail?” “Fucking hell Charlie,” he stopped speaking because he was laughing, the first time Charlie had actually heard him genuinely laugh. “Oh my aching feet, Charlie…..Charlie. You’re not telling me that you’re going to confess are you?” “Confess to what, governor?” he replied in his best Artful Dodger impression. Green was still smiling as he stood up, he looked down to the bed and when he stared back into Charlie’s eyes the smile was almost an expression of malevolence. He sagely nodded his head and spoke, “Charlie, you are out of here in two days. My ‘guvner’ thinks you’re worth the helicopter ride to Parkhurst. It’s ok, the Metropolitan Police will pay for the ticket.” He turned and moved to the door, Charlie saw his shoulders start to shake and as Green left the room and closed the door, the laughter stayed. ‘That did not go well’, Charlie thought to himself. The next night and day passed slowly, in-between making himself get out of bed and stagger around the room until he felt reasonably confident he had enough strength to make a go of it if Clay didn’t come through and Samantha swooping in at all hours to give him help easing the soreness in his left arm while he pondered his fate. He wasn’t so much afraid of the dark future, more frustrated that he might not be able to engineer the end of his personal quest. This depressed him somewhat and he forced himself to believe that the lever on Clay was strong and long enough to persuade him that it would be easier to capitulate than to make a stand. He could feel his body healing. According to Samantha, his chart had been slightly altered so that he appeared too ill to travel. However, she pointed out, Dr. Moncton was scheduled to examine him in the next twenty-four hours and then sign Charlie over to the police surgeons. Charlie could do nothing, a junior detective from serious crimes had replaced the constable outside and out running him in a foot race was really not an option. He had the one chance, and not a very good one. In the early morning of Green’s impending return, a light tap on his cheek awaked him. His eyes sprang open and were filled with the image of an unfamiliar face. He could smell tobacco smoke, and musty beer. Charlie was, after all those years of living right on the edge of imminent danger, quite adept at making fight or flight decisions very rapidly. He didn’t move a muscle and hoped that this wasn’t his escort to prison. “Get up Charlie, it’s time to leave. Mr. Clay sends his regards, and requests you meet him for a drink.” Charlie suddenly became aware of another person in the room; he rolled on to his side and slid out of the bed. The other taller man seemed more together and had the presence of being in charge. Both men were wearing hospital orderly coats and both men were surprisingly calm considering what they were about to attempt. “Come on man, get in yourself in gear. We don’t have that much time.” Tall man motioned to the wheelchair that had been hidden behind him. “Where’s the fucking copper?” Charlie asked in a whisper. “He should have been more careful where he left his thermos; he’s probably having the time of his life on the shitter right now. I hope he had a big dinner last night otherwise he’ll shit out his whole fucking stomach!” With that, both men snickered and then short man covered Charlie’s legs as he settled into the chair. Tall man grabbed the handles as short man opened the door and Charlie began his escape from justice. They moved quickly and positively through the maze of corridors, until they reached a particular elevator. As they waited for it to arrive at the tenth floor, Charlie took stock of the situation, these guys were obviously professionals, and they had passed three lifts already so this was part of the route they had planned. The elevator doors swished open and as they waited for a stretcher to exit the car, tall man greeted the other orderlies with a cheery good morning. Once inside, short man hit three floor buttons at random, or so it seemed. It stopped two floors below and as they left the car, Charlie heard it carry on down. The men were moving at bit faster now; they appeared to be on some kind of service floor, because there were no hospital rooms, or rather none that Charlie could make out. Another elevator. This time they travelled all the way to the ground floor. As the doors opened, short man walked out while tall man stopped the automatic door closing with his foot. Short man returned after about thirty seconds, or three hours depending on your state of mind. “Let’s go.” He said almost triumphantly. It felt they were in a less travelled part of the hospital because the corridor was empty of hustle and bustle. Charlie did not see anyone. The escape party arrived at a lavatory; small man produced a screwdriver and undid the emergency screw on the lock. “Hurry up, get changed.” They motioned for Charlie to get up and out of the wheelchair, and he was almost pushed into the cubicle. They shut the door behind him and Charlie threw the catch. Hanging above the bowl was a hanger with civilian clothes on it. He rushed to strip off his hospital garb and flung on the blue jeans and black sweater. He looked for some shoes and saw them nestled underneath the sink. A pair of red high top’s. They fitted, which, to Charlie just confirmed these guys were used to doing this kind of stuff, and had been hired because of it. ‘My goodness Cassius, what are you into to know these kind of people? And why haven’t you arrested them?’ he thought fleetingly. Yanking tight the last lace he reached up for the door lock and yelped in pain, he had forgotten that he had been shot and forced himself to slow down. He hoped that he had not pulled a stitch, blood soaking though the sweater would not be good. Perhaps this was the reason for the black material. He calmed himself down and unlocked the door; it was jerked open by small man. “Very fucking stylish, glad to see you used the mirror!!” Charlie had been caught out, he never checked his appearance, short man pushed him back and was suddenly madly smoothing out Charlie’s hair, swearing under his breath about ‘ how Charlie was meant to be a professional’ and ‘fucking Tommy would go ballistic’. Short man dragged Charlie back out of the toilet and steadied them both to an easy stroll down the brightly lit corridor. They turned a corner and had reached the back entrance of the hospital. A dark blue Ford Sierra was parked, engine running, outside the glass doors. Short man pushed the portal open and guided Charlie to the back door of the car, which swung open as he reached it; he jumped into the front seat. “Lie across the seat, Charlie. Try and get as low as you can. I think there’s an undercover police car out here somewhere. Fuck me Albert, what took you so long? I’ve been sitting here like a pound of ham at a Jewish wedding!” The car moved forward slowly and unobtrusively. Charlie could feel the car make a half circle as they manoeuvred out of the hospital entry/exit roads. “I was making our guest look pretty.” Charlie stayed down until Tommy turned his head slightly and said, matter of factly, “Brighton alright for you?” Charlie smiled and said, “How about Palmers Green, can we do that?” He had intimated to Clay that he wished to go south and so long as Clay had that impression going to the small suburb in North London might buy him a little more space if he was being looked for. “Anywhere you want Charlie. Our instructions were rather fucking simple. Take you where you want to go and to give this message,” Tommy held out a slip of paper to Albert and he, in turn, swivelled round and gave it to Charlie. He unfolded the note and saw a telephone number written in blue ink. “That’s a beeper number, dial that and punch in six-six-six and Mr. Clay will meet you in the Hammers, that’s a boozer in St. Albans, exactly three hours after you beep him. He said that it would be a good place to exchange gifts. And… that’s fucking that matey!” Tommy fished in his pocket and pulled out a packet of Embassy Regal. He shook one loose for himself and grabbed it with his lips, Albert leant over and lit it for him and taking the packet and passed it back toward Charlie. “There you go mate, I think it’ll be alright if you sit up now. Make your self more comfortable”, he passed Charlie a lighter, “So how you going to get out of Blighty? I should imagine there’s going to be quite the fucking panic soon. The filth are all over you by all accounts. Shouldn’t be surprised if they do a lock down on the airports and the rest of it.” “You got some good mates though, I reckon. Don’t you Charlie? Do you know how many people get nervous at the mention of your little crew? Don’t fuck with them is the word.” Tommy chuckled to everyone in general, he carried on talking but Charlie was lost in his own world. The acrid cigarette smoke punished his lungs and he felt a little light headed. The rush hour traffic had no rush to it, and the car slowly moved northward through the lines of frustrated drivers. He had committed Samantha’s telephone number to memory and hoped that she had completed the second of his favours. He began to fret that he had asked too much of her. She was, after all, a civilian and risking more than she actually realised to help him. He hoped she wouldn’t crack before she completed the mission. However Charlie forced this train of thought away, he had to concentrate on the problems at hand One, if she hadn’t managed to get the money or she had been caught there was nothing he could do to help her. Two, if one had happened he would have to try and get to his other stash. Fact. Three; a more pressing problem, actually getting to the haven he needed to so he could recover in relative obscurity. A problem whose solution would be entirely dependent on the out come of issue one and therefore two. He focused on his whereabouts for a second, and discovered that they were approaching Mill Hill, not long now; the traffic was thinning a little as they were leaving central London. He commenced a battle plan. He had to get to a public telephone first, and he had to make two calls. The second would be to Ralph; Charlie was positive that Ralph would take him in for a few hours. He didn’t think that he would be a ‘known associate’ and therefore, in a comparative way, safe. After that it all got a bit wobbly, he had to come up with some kind of ruse to get his gun back. Cassius would not be best pleased that Charlie had hoodwinked him. There was not coded book with names and addresses in, Charlie just figured that Clay was a bent copper and that was where it all started. Detective Clay must be a lot more bent than he had imagined, and by default had a lot more to lose. That was going to be a tricky obstacle to overcome. Still he was pretty sure something would come to him; the only other predicament remaining was to borrow some change for the telephone off of his rescuers. They turned onto Green Lanes and Charlie tuned into the conversation in the front seats, “They never should ‘ave put him in goal. The cunt couldn’t catch a beach ball, bastards fucking blind.” “Fuck off, not even Banksy could have stopped the winner Tommy. It must ‘ave been going at a hundred miles a fuckin’ hour! Fucking krauts!” “Sounds like we fucking lost again.” “Where the fuck have you been, yes we fucking lost and now we have to beat the fucking bubbles to get into the world cup.” Albert exploded. “You naff cunt Bert.” Tommy spat, holding up his hand and Charlie noticed the nicotine stained fingers and a big gold sovereign signet ring, “Where did we just come from? Use your fucking head for once.” Albert blushed and turned to face Charlie, “Sorry mate, I just love my football, I get carried away sometimes. Yeah, the fucking square heads beat us two to nothing.” The vehicle lapsed into to silence for a moment and then Charlie spoke, “I don’t suppose one of you could lend me a tenner and some change until I get some money?” “Albert and I thought you might need some quick dosh, so we had a whip round between the two of us. We heard through the grapevine what happened to Terry. It wasn’t fucking right. You’ve had a bad go, there are a lot of people who respected you two so we felt it’s only fucking kosher you should have a fair start.” With that, Albert tossed an envelope into Charlie’s lap. He opened it and inside was a layer of crumpled twenties and tens, perhaps four hundred pounds. Charlie had to be quiet for a second; he had not expected anything like this. This is what these guys did for a living and for them to treat him as more than a parcel was pretty mind blowing. “Fuck, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” “Send us a postcard from fucking Rio or something.” Tommy laughed again, and carried on,” Here we are Charlie. Where shall we drop you?” They were nearing the small row of shops that signals the beginning of Palmers Green high street. “Anywhere here will do.” The car slowed and Tommy pulled over between two parked cars. “Thank you. I owe you one.” “Nah you don’t,” beamed Albert, “We soaked Clay for a fucking fortune. He’s such a cunt. Thinks he’s the bees bollocks, what a plonker.” Charlie opened the door and winced a little as the stitches tightened, he eased himself out and before he closed the door he leant in a thanked both men by name. They smiled and waved as they sped off into the suburban traffic, they didn’t wish him good luck. Ok, thought Charlie, first things first, a packet of Marlboro and then a telephone box. He walked a little way down the bustling street and saw a small cigarette shop. The bell clanged as he opened the door, inside a radio news station was playing; the volume was low but audible. The classic sweet shop lady appeared from behind the cloth curtain that separated her private domain from the rest of the shop. The heavy mascara around her eyes emphasised the laugh lines in her face, “Hello darling, what can I get you?” she sang out in a cheery voice, her cherry earrings swung to and fro as she spoke. “Twenty Marlboro and one of those cheap lighters please.” He held out a twenty-pound note and smiled. She looked at the note and tutted, “Sorry luv I’ll have to out back and get some change unless you have anything smaller. Do you?” Charlie shook his head and she said, “I’ll be back in just a jiffy, watch the shop for me will you? Thanks.” She disappeared behind the curtain and Charlie stood waiting for his change. He opened the box and pulled out a cigarette, he picked up the cheap Bic lighter from the counter and smoked. The curtain swished back and the lady was holding his change, “Thanks ever so much for waiting luv, you have a good day.” Charlie thanked her once again and left the shop. He had walked about a hundred yards when he saw the red box he was looking for. He stepped inside and lifted the receiver; and closing his eyes recalled Samantha’s number. He dialled and the phone rang twice and there was a click and he was connected,
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