“Say,
Miss, I’ve a bit of a problem and could use a lift,” the dark-haired, ruggedly
handsome man stuck his head in the passenger window.
“Sorry,
dude, out of gas,” she replied curtly.
“Well,
I’ll tell ye, I’ve got no trouble payin’,” he replied, opening his suit jacket
to show his Glock in his waistband while pulling a soggy $100 from his pocket.
“You
don’t have to do that,” she grimaced.
“Well,
if I told ye I was havin’ t’drive, I might,” he replied. “Go on and scoot over,
I’ll get us filled up. Don’t do anything silly, I’m pretty much out of sorts
right now and might do something desperate.”
“Are
you carjacking me?”
“Kinda
hirin’ ye at this point,” he replied. “I’ve got a couple more big bills on me
and lots more waitin’ where I’m going. Judgin’ from the look of this vehicle,
I’m pretty sure you can use the money.”
“Hey,
if you don’t like it, you can go carjack somebody else,” she shot back.
“Y’know, that may
not be the worst idea,” he mused. “Look, gimme the key and I’ll fill her up.
Ye’d best move over and not get any funny ideas. G’wan and take the $100 for
now, I’ll give ye some more later.”
“Are
you a drug dealer?” she wondered as she stuffed the bill down the front of her
T-shirt into her large-cupped bra.
“Nay,
but I’ve put a couple out of business as of late,” he replied, fishing his
credit card out of his wallet before going around to the driver’s side. He
gunned the engine and drove the VW over to the gas pump before switching it
back off to fill the tank up. She watched moodily as he got back into the car,
heading back towards the highway.
“So
are you a cop?”
“Not in the
strictest sense of the word,” he cruised onto the access road towards the
highway entrance. “What do you do? How d’you put gas in the tank?”
“I’m
unemployed right now, I get my checks,” she replied. He glanced over and saw
she was an attractive woman in her twenties. She wore her hair in a spiked
shoulder-length punk style, though her thick Goth makeup and nose piercing were
not to his liking. Her hourglass figure and generous bosom, however, were more
than sufficient compensation.
“I’m
Jack, by the way,” he cruised onto the highway and could see emergency vehicles
all over the road in the distance where he just sent Jimmy Burke and the
O’Connor brothers to the briny deep. That meant that neither MI6 nor the CIA
had any way of knowing their plans to dispose of Jack Gawain had gone astray.
“I’m
Darcy,” she replied. “So where we headed?”
“Over
the bridge to the ferry. I need to pick up some money, then I’ll have to get us
out to the airport. I might need to rent a room in the meantime to get my
bearings. If I get as much as I’m expecting at Port Bolivar, I’ll probably be
able t’give ye enough t’get this piece of shite tuned up.”
“Hey,
fuck you. I didn’t see you cruising up in a limousine, dude.”
“Y’got
some mouth on ye, missy,” he smirked.
“Glad you like it. Where
you from anyway, Germany?”
“Now that’ll get ye a bullet in yer
arse,” he chuckled. “I’m from Norn Iron.”
“Where?”
“Nor-thern Ire-land, ye silly twit.”
“Don’t blame me, you sound like you
just got off a boat.”
They
slowed to a crawl as the police diverted traffic to the right lane, emergency
vehicles filling the area where he ran the Explorer off into the bay. He could
see patrol boats down below, indicating they had not made much progress in
getting the SUV out of the water. He smiled and waved at a lady cop as she
waved him through the bottleneck.
“Wonder
what happened?” Darcy peered out the rear window.
“Ah, some
silly bastards making rude remarks about the Protestants in Belfast.”
“Yeah, how do you know?”
“Well,
I just put ‘em in there, don’t y’know.”
“Bullshit.”
“Feel me pants leg, if ye like. I
got soaked to the gills.”
“So
you walked to the gas station, then carjacked me…holy shit,” Darcy realized. “That’s why you’re carrying a gun and
your money’s soaking wet.”
“Y’know,
yer pretty bright. Y’oughtta think of goin’ back t’school while your dole holds
up,” he said airily.
“And
maybe you should go back and take some English lessons, you son of a bitch.”
“Language, child,” he chided
as they continued down the highway. At length they came in sight of the ferry
to Port Bolivar. Gawain’s luck continued to hold out as they arrived right on
time to pull onto the boat before it left the dock.
“So how come you didn’t
stick around for the cops?”
“To tell the truth, the bastards
were plannin’ t’do me in, but it didn’t go well for them.”
“Dude,
this is some deep shit,” she shook her head. “You’re not going to kill me so I
don’t talk, are you?”
“And
y’think they’d believe ye for one minute, with that shit stickin’ outta yer
nose and all?”
“Fuck
you,” she snapped.
The ferry let them off at Port Bolivar, and they
drove to the nearest gas station to ask directions to the Port Bolivar RV Park.
The Winnebago was parked in the rear just as they had been instructed by Six at
the MI6 phone number. Gawain left Darcy in the VW as he accessed the truck,
using the combination he had been given to unlock the door. Darcy felt a thrill
rush through her body, feeling as if she had woke up in the middle of a Mission Impossible movie.
At length he returned to the
Beetle and got back in, gunning the engine and heading back towards the ferry.
“Okay, here’s the deal,”
he explained. “We’re going to take a room on Galveston Beach while I get things
sorted out. I need to get on the Internet and make some calls. I may need you
to ride me around for a bit longer, but I assure you I’ll make it well worth
your while.”
“Hey,
if you have another one of those soggy hundreds to spare, it’s all good by me.”
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