Europe at Midnight (Fractured Europe Sequence Book 2) by Dave Hutchinson

Author:Dave Hutchinson [Hutchinson, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction
Publisher: Solaris
Published: 2015-11-05T05:00:00+00:00

THEY HAD A van parked in the next street, a little white Honda builders’ van with a dent in the side. Lionel and I got in the back and the Farmboy got into the driving seat. When the back doors were closed and locked, Lionel took a piece of cloth from the floor and held it out.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Would you mind...?”

I tied the cloth around my head so that it covered my eyes, and Lionel checked to make sure I couldn’t see anything, then he said something to the Farmboy and the engine started and we moved off with a clashing of gears.

I didn’t see anything of the journey, but I heard the horns honking around us and felt the sudden swerves and braking manoeuvres. The Farmboy was a terrible driver.

We didn’t drive very far, but I didn’t know London well enough to have an idea where we might be. Certainly we went up and down some hills, because I heard the engine labouring and some dreadful noises as the Farmboy tried to find the right gear. Finally, we made a sharp right turn and bumped over something, then I heard gravel crunching under the tyres. A last tussle with the gear lever and the Farmboy pulled the van to a halt.

“Please keep the blindfold on for the moment, Mr Potter,” said Lionel. I heard him open the doors. “Just give me your hand and I’ll help you out.”

I slid cautiously along the floor of the van, held out my hand, and felt Lionel grasp it. His hand felt smooth and hard. He helped me climb down from the van, then he led me a short distance across the gravel and up a single step and then I felt a change in the air currents as we stepped inside. We walked up a flight of stairs, then along a carpeted landing, and through another door. I smelled disinfectant and heard a voice say, “Well you took your fucking time.”

Lionel took off the blindfold. I was standing in a brightly-lit room occupied by a single bed, and on the bed lay Alison, her head bandaged and her right arm in a sling.

I said, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, it’s good to see you too, Tommy,” she snorted. “These bastards kidnapped me and blew the flat up and they say it’s your fault.”

“Rowland Forsythe,” Lionel said beside me. “It’s his fault.”

“Fucking Rowland,” Alison said. “I told you he’d get us both in trouble.”

“No you didn’t,” I said.

“I did. If I said it once, I said it a dozen times. Shifty fucker.”

“Please,” Lionel said tiredly. He looked at me. “We’ve done what we can for Ms Shand, but she needs to see a doctor. Certainly she needs an x-ray. Now, can we talk in private for a moment?”

“Sure,” Alison said. “Don’t mind me. Fuckers.”

Lionel led me out of the room, along the corridor, to another room. This one smelled musty. The curtains were drawn and a single bare bulb was burning in an overhead light fitting.

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