London Calling by Ernest Dempsey

Author:Ernest Dempsey [Dempsey, Ernest]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781944647599
Publisher: 138 Publishing
Published: 2019-12-27T05:00:00+00:00

18

Cambridge

Phoenix watched as the patrol guard stepped toward him with just a waist-high rock wall separating them.

"Stand up so I can see you. What are you doing back there?" the guard repeated.

Zeke deftly tucked his pistol in the back of his pants and stood up, wavering slightly.

"What's wrong with you?" the guard asked.

"I'm sorry," Zeke said in a terrible English accent. Fortunately, he was slurring, so it covered up his inability to mimic the locals. "Have you…seen my car around here? I know I left it here somewhere." He added a hiccup for good measure, which was probably overkill, but at this point Zeke figured he was probably screwed anyway.

"What? Your car?"

"Yeah, mate. I left…I left it here somewhere to go into the pub and have a drink."

"Your car? Here? For a drink?"

"Whoa," Zeke said, flinging his hands around like a man possessed. "Did you hear that echo in here? Hold on a second. Let me see." He cupped his hands to his lips. "Hello?" he whispered, then listened with one hand over his ear. "Nope. Nothing. Maybe I shouldn't whisper. You think that's it?"

He stumbled toward the wall, and the guard pointed his weapon at Zeke's head. "Stop right there."

"Wow!" Zeke exclaimed. "Is that a gun? That is awesome. Are you some kind of cop? Because I don't know anyone here with a gun. I've seen one before, but not in a long time." His slurring was probably the only thing saving him from catching a bullet.

"Yes," the guard lied. "I'm a cop. And I was called in to investigate a disturbance. Seems there was some drunkard lurking about. I'd say I found him."

"Really? Where?" Zeke made a show of twisting his head around dramatically, as if he was searching for this drunken fool. "Let me help." Then he cocked his head to the side and squinted. "You sure don't look like a cop. Where's your uniform?"

"I'm undercover," the guard said in a condescending tone he was certain the trespasser wouldn't catch. "You say you went into the pub for a drink?"

"Yep. And I didn't drive, Occifer," he embellished. "Mainly because I can't find my car, but maybe you can help me."

"The nearest pub is a few miles from here, mate," the guard said.

"Hey, what are you doing, man?" Another voice entered the conversation from the other side of the wall.

Phoenix crouched lower for a moment as he heard the soft sound of boots against grass and damp earth nearing his position. Then the second patrol guard veered away, toward the ruckus. Phoenix risked a peek over the top of the wall and saw a second man, this one with an American accent, walking toward Zeke and the other guard.

The second guard had dark skin and a shaved head. His torso was easily twice as wide as Phoenix's. The guy was big enough to forklift a small car with his bare hands, and his black T-shirt looked like it was about to stretch to the point of disintegration from his bulging muscles.

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