Innocent on the run. Part 32.

Chapter 11. Ricky awoke from a troubled sleep. He lay there thinking of the bad news that he'd heard last night on the radio. If they traced the money that he'd used last night it wouldn't be very long before they found him. He still had to pay for the motel room today, so he jumped out of bed and looked at the money in the holdall. There were some old, used notes in loose bundles, but the most of it was crisp, new money. He would have to take a chance and use some of the old money, and hope that they couldn't trace it. He washed and dressed quickly and retrieved his washing from the balcony. His heart was thumping like mad as he approached the desk to pay for his room, and the desk clerk laughed and said ` Butterfingers,' when he dropped the money on the floor from his shaking hands. Scooping it up quickly he dropped enough to cover the bill on the counter and hurried away. Walking back down the seafront he mingled with the crowds, and headed towards the docks. There were three sea going vessels in the docks but none of them was flying the red duster, so he walked around the fish dock looking at the small boats and trawlers. Men were busy unloading boxes of fish on to the quay, to be taken away on the backs of the trucks that were stood by waiting. Hundreds of boxes were piled up and more coming off the boats. There was an enormous variety of fish, of many different colours and sizes, from huge swordfish to little sardines, large octopus to small shrimp. Ricky wandered on, killing time by watching the bustling activity of the fish docks. He saw the Texas State Aquarium building and went in to pass the time, marvelling at the number of different species of fish, mammals and crustaceans on display from the Gulf of Mexico. Outside the Aquarium he got on the Tide, which is a brightly coloured bus running between the beaches and the downtown district. He wandered around the shops and stores, and stopped at a Soda fountain to have a hamburger and coke. He'd noticed several cheap looking hotels on the way and decided to stop at one of them that night. Looking out of the window of the Soda fountain, he saw a police car draw up outside one of the hotels and a policeman went inside. He came out a few minutes later and went into the next hotel. There were three other hotels on that block and the policeman went in to each of them. Ricky was scared. They were obviously making enquiries about someone. Maybe it was himself . Maybe the ten dollar bill he'd passed in the restaurant last night had been found to be a part of the robbery. He was sweating again. Once the police car had driven off, he went out on to the street and walked back to the docks area. It was early evening by the time he got there. Feeling very depressed, he watched the trawlers getting ready to put to sea, not really observing anything, wrapped up in his own problems. If the police were warning the hotels and motels to keep an eye open for him, then he had nowhere to stay at night, unless he slept in a railway carriage or a disused building. A voice said,` You looking for work pal?' He looked up. A man was stood on the back deck of a stern trawler, looking at him. `I see you've got your bag with you. Are you looking for work?' Ricky thought quickly. This was an answer to his problem, he could go to sea until the heat died down. `Yes,' he answered. The skipper looked at him. `You been to sea before ?' `Yes I have.' `Okay, I need a deck hand. My regular man's on vacation. Ten bucks a trip and a share of the catch.' ‘Fine,' Ricky answered, jumping on deck. `Stand by that stern rope, we're about to cast off,' and he went forward and climbed the ladder into the wheelhouse. The engine started with a roar and the bow line was thrown aboard by a man on the quay. The skipper eased the bow of the boat out and looked out of the rear window of the wheelhouse. He signalled to the man on the quay and he cast off the stern line. Ricky hauled it inboard and coiled it down on deck. The boat got under way and she steamed slowly out of harbour. Ricky went up to the wheelhouse, taking his bag with him. There was another man in there beside the skipper and he looked at Ricky and held out his hand. `Call me Hank.' `Ricky.' Hank was a short, stocky man about twenty five years old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. `Nice to meet you Ricky. You been on these boats before ?' `No, but I've done a trip to sea.' `You aint American, Rick, where you from ?' 'England. I'm here on holiday but I've run out of money.' `Oh, right, kinda working your way around the States, huh?' `Yes, that's right.' `Okay, you'll soon learn this job, it's easy.' `Easy my ass.' The skipper joined in. ` If you call being on your feet for up to eighteen hours a day, sliding all over the deck in scales and slime, easy, then O.K. it's easy.' Hank laughed. `Take no notice of the skipper, Rick, he loves this job, otherwise he wouldn't be back here every trip.' `I'm back here to pay the bank, that's why I'm back here. Now show Rick where to stow his gear and get some coffee up here.' Hank jumped to attention and gave a salute. ` Yes sir, ' he shouted. `Asshole,' the skipper said, grinning. Hank threw Ricky's bag down the hatch in the deck and climbed down the ladder after it. Ricky followed him and found himself in a small mess room with one table and some red leather seats around the walls. There were two wooden chairs at the table and a refrigerator in the corner. A small two ring cooker was alongside the fridge and a small sink unit alongside that. There were three bunks above the red seating, two already made up and one with a sheet and blanket folded up on it. Hank threw Ricky's bag up on the unmade bunk. He went across to the cooker and put a coffee pot on and turned the heat on.` I'll show you around ,' he said. ` It won't take long, she's a small boat.' There was a passageway behind the messroom with three doors opening off it, one a shower and the other a toilet. The third door opened on to the back deck, and Hank showed him the winches and nets that they used to catch the fish. A small hatchway in the deck opened up for access to the engine room, and loose boards on the deck were lifted to expose the fish hold. Before leaving the dock the boat had been supplied with a load of ice to keep the fish fresh, and this was piled in one part of the hold. Hank also showed him where they kept the large fishing rods that they used if they came across a shoal of Tuna. The three of them would be on deck casting the rods and hauling in Tuna as fast as they could, until the shoal disappeared. He told Ricky that Tuna went for the flashing hooks, thinking they were small fish glinting in the water. They went back inside the accommodation and Hank poured coffee into three mugs, before they joined the skipper on the bridge. The sea was flat calm, and they steamed into the setting sun, passing an island on the starboard side. `North Padre Island,' the skipper said. ` You been on the island, Rick?' `No, not yet.' `You ought to go when you get a chance, there's some great beaches with fine restaurants on the islands. There's water sports like sailing and surfing, too. ' `Is it a big island ? ' `Yeah, North and South Island stretches all the way down to Brownsville, on the Mexican border, and Mustang Island goes the other way up to Galveston Island. It's like a barrier that stops the coastline from eroding away. ' ‘Oh, I see.' `Okay,' Hank said. ` I'm turning in. See you at four a.m. Goodnight,' and he disappeared down the hatch. `Goodnight .' They both called after him. `You'd better turn in as well, Rick,' the skipper said. `We start work at four a.m. as soon as we get to the fishing grounds.' `Okay, skipper, see you in the morning.' He climbed down the ladder to the mess room. Hank was already in bed, so he stripped off, made the bunk up roughly and turned in, using his holdall for a pillow. Hank shook him awake after what seemed like a very short time, and told him it was four o'clock. Coffee was already on the stove and Ricky got out of bed and went into the bathroom. When he came out the coffee was ready and Hank gave him a cup, then climbed the ladder to the bridge. Ricky joined the two of them in the wheelhouse and the Skipper turned from the echo sounder and showed Ricky the paper record, which was a cluster of pen lines on the otherwise virgin paper that he said was a shoal of fish. The echo sounder transducer was mounted in the hull of the boat and it sent out radio frequency signals which bounced off any target in the sea. The reflected signals were then received by the transducer and sent to the display in the wheelhouse, where they were displayed on a paper chart on the recorder. If there was nothing underneath the boat, the paper was unmarked, but if fish were present they appeared as groups of black lines. ` Time to go to work.' Hank said, and led the way out of the wheelhouse and down the ladder to the after deck. He showed Ricky the locker containing oilskin coats and trousers and they dressed up while the skipper turned the boat on to a new course, to fish for the shoal they'd seen on the echo sounder. Hank looked up to the wheelhouse window and got the thumbs up sign from the Skipper. He showed Ricky how to start up the winch and they paid the net out slowly over the stern. When all the net was out, the two wires holding the mouth of the net open were secured by applying the winch brake. As they towed the net along, any fish in it's path would be trapped and would swim to the far end of the net. Once the Skipper judged that he'd got the shoal, he signalled out of the window and they operated the winch again, hauling the net inboard. Hank operated the winch, hauling the catch clear of the water. The net was bulging with thousands of fish of different colours, and Hank showed Ricky how to bring the hydraulic ‘A’ frame, which the net was suspended by, inboard. They took up the deck timbers exposing the hold. Hank then paid out on the winch while Ricky dragged the suspended net over the hold. As Hank slipped the quick release knot on the bottom of the net, the fish tumbled into the hold in a multi coloured cascade. The two of them then went into the hold and sorted the fish into types and sizes, adding ice to the boxes, while the Skipper looked for another shoal. Twice more that day they lowered the net. The first time they bagged another shoal of fish, but the second time they got only a few. Ricky had to prepare the evening meal while Hank took over from the Skipper, steering the boat. When the steaks were done, Ricky shook the Skipper, then relieved Hank while he ate. The rest of the evening and night was divided up into watches and they took turns at the wheel. This was the routine for the next six days, shooting the net when a shoal was near, sorting the catch into sizes and types, until the boxes in the hold were gradually being used up. Ricky caught his oilskin coat in the winch one day and was nearly pulled into the drum. Luckily, Hank managed to stop it just before a serious accident occurred. He was extra careful after that. They were in the hold one afternoon, when the Skipper raced down the deck and shouted into the hold ` Tuna.' Hank shouted, `Come on, Rick' and leapt for the ladder. Ricky looked in amazement at the sea boiling with Tuna. They were in the middle of a shoal and Ricky grabbed the fishing rod that was thrust in his hands and swung the hook into the sea. Immediately he felt the tug as a Tuna snapped at the hook and he followed Hank's example and hauled it inboard, flicking it off the hook into the hold before dropping the hook over the side again to repeat the process. The Tuna were biting at anything and they spent three hours constantly shaking Tuna off their hooks. As quickly as they had appeared, the Tuna were gone. Some magical signal had sent them flying off in a different direction, diving for the depths. Ricky was exhausted. His arms felt like lead and he sat on the deck, puffing and panting. The Skipper was ecstatic. It was a marvellous catch and he left Hank and Ricky to get the Tuna into the last of the boxes while he turned the boat to head for home. The skipper and Hank were as happy as schoolboys, laughing and joking with each other and singing snatches of songs, as the boat plodded on, reduced in speed by the amount of fish in the hold. The Skipper had called up his wife on the radio, and when they bumped alongside the quay at Corpus Christie, there were trucks waiting to take the cargo away. They spent the next two hours unloading the boat onto the quay, swinging the boxes out of the hold in a net with the boats little davit. When the work was done, the Skipper told Ricky he would pay him the following day when they'd worked out how much the catch was worth, and he was free to go. `Could I Stay on the boat tonight, Skip, I don't really fancy a motel.' `Sure you can, no problem. Feel free to take anything you need to eat, there's loads of food left.'

Innocent on the run. part 31.

The thought of being shot in a dirty back alley galvanised him into action, and he raced along in the dark, knowing that the path ahead was clear. Another shot rang out and the bullet thumped into the wooden building at his side, terrifying him. He scooted up an alley to be out of the line of fire, and raced in full view the last hundred yards to the dock gates. Running out into the flow of traffic, he raced along in the direction the cars were going, using them as cover. When he came to a side street, he ran up it and saw a taxi with people just getting out. He jumped in to the back seat as the man was still paying his fare. 'Quick.' he shouted. 'Quick, let's go.' 'Hold your horses.' the cabbie said, giving the man his change. He turned to Ricky. 'Where to, bud?' Ricky looked at him. 'Where to ?' he asked. 'That's what I just said.' 'Paradise Motel.' he answered, naming one of the motels he'd stayed in. 'Okay,' the driver turned, slid the car into gear and moved off. Ricky turned and looked through the back window, keeping low. Shifty was at the entrance to the street, looking around him. He must have seen the man paying the cab and thought it was empty. He lay back on the seat, sweating. That did it. There was no way that he could stay in Galveston or anywhere near now. He'd have to move on a bit further afield, and tonight. 'Where are the other ports on this coast?' he asked the driver. 'Not close. There's Houston, then Port Arthur to the East and Corpus Christi to the West.' 'How far is Corpus Christi ?' 'About two hundred miles.' That was it, then. He would have to go to Corpus Christi. The cab pulled up outside the motel and Ricky got out, watching until the cab had disappeared. There was a telephone kiosk outside the motel and he used it to call up another cab from the list of numbers written inside. He waited in the shadows until the cab arrived and he got in and asked the cabbie to take him to a different motel. 'Don't like this one, huh,?' he asked. 'I just had a phone call, telling me I have to be in Corpus Christi tomorrow, so I need to go a bit further West.' 'Okay,' he replied. 'I can take you all the way if you want, or I can drop you at a motel on the highway.' 'A motel's fine, thanks.' He didn't want anyone to be able to check that a cab took someone to Corpus Christi, so when he spotted a motel about five miles further on, he asked the driver to pull in there. 'There's lots more motels further on I can take you to.' he said. 'No, thanks, this one's fine. I'll have plenty of time tomorrow.' He paid the cabbie and went in to the motel. The disinterested clerk behind the counter was sat down reading a book. He didn't look up when Ricky asked for a room, just asked him to sign the book on the counter, said 'Five bucks.' and threw a key across. Ricky dropped the money on the counter, picked up the key and went outside to find his room. The room was typical of motels, a double bed, chest of drawers and a shower and toilet. Ricky sat down on the bed with his head in his hands. Christ, it got worse. He was almost on that ship and away. He was sure they would have been watching the ship, but he had to take a chance. They'd tried to kill him as well. Reaction set in and he started shaking, so he crawled under the covers fully clothed. After a while he dozed off, waking once in the night, when he dreamed that he was tied to a target in the middle of a field, and a man with a gun was firing at him. In the morning, he showered, then changed into his new clothes. He was starving so he breakfasted on bread, cheese and tomatoes, and hoped that he was far enough out of town to hitch hike, counting on the three men to be still guarding the docks at Galveston. Telling himself that he was lucky to be alive, he left the key in the door and walked up to the highway. He started hitch hiking, but after half an hour a bus came along and stopped a few yards away from him, so he ran and jumped on it. He didn't care where it was going as long as it went in the direction on Corpus Christi. The driver told him that he didn't go as far as Corpus Christi, but he could get another bus from Palacios, which was about half way, down route 35. He sat in the front looking at the countryside. One thing was for sure. He'd make certain those three didn't get the money now, after trying to kill him, even if he had to burn it ! He would try to take it home with him. His Dad would know what to do with it. They might be able to hand it in to the Police at home and claim a reward. Home. How marvellous it would be to be at home now. He'd never felt so lonely. It was one thing to want to go to sea, and he'd always known that he would one day, but he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined being chased across America by people who wanted to kill him. The bus sped on down the arrow straight highway, clocking up the miles. There was a haze in front of them, caused by the heat shimmering off the road, but inside the bus it was cool, as the air conditioning kept it at a constant 45 degrees fahrenheit. They passed the huge fields of wheat, sweetcorn tall and green, and fields of workers bending low, cutting melons. They passed cattle ranches with herds of cows numbering thousands, spread out across the plains, with cowboys on horseback tending them. Ricky dozed off and was surprised when the driver shook him and said, 'End of the line. Palacios.' Ricky picked up his holdall and got off the bus, after the driver had told him where the Corpus Christi bus would leave from. The heat was tremendous, and he moved into the shelter of the bus station and crossed to the other bus. It was waiting, half filled with passengers and he paid the fare and sat down. After fifteen minutes the bus pulled out, and he was on his way. He saw signs for Lavaca Bay and Port O'Connor, and wondered if there were sea going ships there or just fishing vessels. They crossed San Antonio Bay and saw the many acres of marsh lands, huge lagoons teeming with many varieties of wildlife. Road signs warned them when they were nearing the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, home to whooping cranes, waterfowl, wild boar, alligators, wolves and deer. The bus stopped briefly at Fulton and Rockport, before starting the last leg of the trip to Corpus Christi. They pulled in to the bus depot in the early evening, and Ricky was glad the journey was over, he was stiff from sitting all day. He got off the bus and stretched his legs, walking uptown to the shopping precincts and hotel complexes. There was a trolley bus that could have taken him, but he preferred to walk. There were some beautiful old buildings on the route, with shops and restaurants selling everything to do with the sea, and he promised himself a meal at a seafood restaurant later that evening. He could see signs pointing to McGee beach, Cole Park and Padre Island. His spirits rose as he saw that there was a docks with ocean going ships as well as fishing boats. He turned off towards the beach and marina, and gazed out into the Gulf of Mexico watching the shipping activity. Loads of fishing boats were coming and going, small one man inshore boats, right up to ocean going trawlers, all bustling about. He sat on a bench and dreamed of jumping on a plane at the Corpus Christie airport, and flying home, but of course that was out of the question. Then he suddenly realised that he could get internal flights without needing a passport, so if there was no ship available for him to stow away on, at least he could go to one of the large shipping ports where there must be thousands of British ships. There was a restaurant with a fine view of the marina, called The Lighthouse, a seafood restaurant, so he went in and sat at a table admiring the view. The menu told him that the seafood on offer was Yellowfin Tuna, swordfish, grouper, snapper, flounder, as well as sweet shrimp, crabs, and oysters. He didn't know where to start, so he asked the waiter's opinion and he recommended the barbecued crabs followed by grouper with a side salad. The crabs were delicious and he cracked the shells and scooped the meat out, sucking the claws at the end, making a thorough mess. The grouper was a bit different to the cod that he was used to, being a bit more coarse in texture, but it was still good, and he ate every scrap. A coca cola finished the meal off and he sat and looked at the view, hoping that his luck was changing and that he would soon be homeward bound. When it grew dusk, Ricky left the restaurant and went in search of a motel. He found one called the Sea Shell Inn further up the beach. It had it's own swimming pool and private beach, and he got a room overlooking the sea. It was a beautiful setting and he could listen to the sea crashing up onto the shoreline. This room had a radio and for the first time in a long time, he was able to listen to some music. They played almost non- stop jazz music, with advertisements and news bulletins at regular intervals. It was nice to relax for a change, without having to worry about the three men. Surely they could have no way of knowing that he'd made the trip to Corpus Christi. He had a cooling shower and washed out some of his underclothes, draping them outside the room on the balcony to dry. He felt a little bit safer here, and he went to bed to listen to the radio for a while. The jazz was good, although he didn't recognise any of the bands, but it was totally different to the music they played at home. Of course at home there was only the Light programme or the Home service on their Radio Relay set. Here they had dozens of stations to choose from, some of them local radio stations. He listened with amusement to something that they called bee bop, fast, light hearted music, played with a big bands, saxophones and trombones blasting out. The advertisements were funny, selling everything imaginable from cars to aspirin. Fast talking salesmen bombarded your eardrums every few minutes, trying to convince you that their product was best. The music stopped while they went over to a news bulletin, and he heard of fatal car crashes, crime, boat accidents and local government decisions. The announcer went on to say that police were still trying to trace the three men and a boy who robbed the First Statesman Bank in Houston. The search had shifted to Galveston where banknotes from the robbery had been circulating. Ricky lay in bed stunned. They could trace the banknotes, and he'd been passing them everywhere. He'd even paid for his meal tonight with a new ten dollar bill. Copyright Deric Barry 2005.

Innocent on the run. Part 30.

Ricky dodged back into the shadows of the building and ran up the alley alongside it. He circled around the back of the building and crept down the alley on the other side. Stopping at the corner, he poked his head around the side. Shifty had stopped talking to the docker and was walking away in the opposite direction ! Ricky leaned against the building, his heart thumping like mad. If Shifty was here, so were the other two. He'd have to watch his step now. After a while his heartbeat slowed and his feeling of panic subsided. What to do for the best? He couldn't hide in a motel for very long, because he needed to be at the docks every day. He could go to a different port and find a ship, but he didn't know where or how far the next port was. It was too dangerous to hitch hike, or go to the bus depot. It was dangerous enough being on the streets, now that the three men were out looking for him. Slipping back down the alleyway he made his way along the back of the buildings, through the accumulated rubbish and piles of chains, ropes and junk metal that was strewn around. He knew that there was an exit from the docks about a half mile away, and he hid behind a large drum, keeping the gates under observation for ten minutes before going out onto the Strand and mingling with the crowds. There was a delicatessen nearby and he went in and bought bread, cheese cold meat and a can of coke, which he put in the bag. Keeping his eyes peeled, he continued walking North, putting distance between himself and the dock. At a news stand he bought a paper and two books to read that evening. He had decided to find a motel and lay low until the following day. Half an hour later he booked in to a motel and lay on the bed reading. The time dragged, and he ate a lonely supper before showering and turning in. Chapter 10. Ricky woke up and looked at his watch. It was nine a.m. He lay there trying to decide what to do. He eventually came to the conclusion that the docks was his only chance of escape, and he rose and got washed and dressed. There was some bread and cold meat left so he finished it off. He picked up the holdall, checked out of the Motel, and walked back towards the docks. The streets were crowded, and he took the same route as the previous day, keeping his eyes peeled for any of the gang. When he got to the docks he slipped in without being seen, past a huge truck that was stopped at the entrance. Keeping alert and ready for instant flight, he continued his search for a British ship. It was midday when he spotted it. The red duster. It was flying from a very rusty cargo ship, and he approached a building about a hundred yards away from the ship to watch. Positioning himself at the side of the building, in the shadow that it cast, he had a good view of the dockside. She was loading up with something but he didn't know what it was. Large crates of something or other, but there were trucks waiting in line a short distance away with farming implements on their backs. He could identify combine harvesters, tractors and ploughs. The crew were busy on deck and the dockers were positioning the crates in one of the holds. He had to find out when she was leaving, but didn't want to risk asking one of the dockers, and he didn't want to draw attention to himself by standing too near the ship. Going around behind the building and walking along the backs of several others, Ricky eventually spotted the heavy trucks at the end of an alleyway. He waited at the end of the alleyway, watching a group of the drivers talking and laughing together. One of them turned from the group and made his way to the front of the building that Ricky was stood by. He went inside, and Ricky came out from the shadows when he saw the door opening again. The driver came out and Ricky said, 'Excuse me, that ship, do you know when she's sailing.' 'Soon as she gets all this farming stuff on her, tonight sometime.' 'Thanks.' His heart gave a leap. Tonight. He could be on her and away from here. Walking back up the alleyway, he made his way into the town around the backs of the buildings. He couldn't hang around the ship all day, and he would have to buy some food to take with him if he was going to stow away. He would have to stow away, there was no sense in approaching the Captain direct without any documents. If Ricky told him that he'd lost his passport, the captain would send him to the British Consul to get a replacement. No, the only way out was to stow away. Busy with his thoughts, he wandered straight out through the dock gates, forgetting about caution, and only by chance looked up and spotted Dan, about a hundred yards away, staring straight at him. He fled. Startled people on the pavements made way for him as he ran, panic stricken, dodging and weaving through the streets. He collided with a display of fruit outside a shop and sent boxes of apples, pears, grapes and oranges flying in all directions. He tripped and fell over some fruit, scrambled to his feet, not daring to look behind him, hearing the shopkeeper cursing after him as he slid, then gained his footing and ran like the wind, head back and legs pumping. He spotted an alleyway between two shops, skidded into it, and ran to the end. It was a dead end. The wall at the end was about eight feet high. There was a rubbish bin handy so he dragged it to the wall, climbed up on it, sprang for the top and swung himself over. Dropping to the other side he ran across the backs of the buildings, looking for an escape route. There was a path alongside one house and he ran up it and into the street. Crossing the road he shot up the drive of another house and jumped over the fence at the bottom of the garden, landing in a vegetable patch. He ploughed his way through the vegetables, with clumps of mud sticking to his boots and ran through the garden, down the path and out on to the street. A car screeched to a stop, the driver mouthing something at him as he ran into the road and up the path between two houses, which brought him out onto a tarmac play area. Some kids were playing basketball, and they shouted at him as he ran across their pitch. There was another alley off the play area and he ran up it and came out on to a street. He ran to the end of the street and took a right turn into a busy main road. People and traffic was what he wanted, and he turned and looked behind him, tremendously relieved that there was no sign of Dan. His breath was returning as he walked through the throngs of people, looking for a place to hide. There was an all day cinema across the street, so he went in and bought a ticket, sitting through the show twice, hardly taking note of the films, busy worrying how he was going to get away. They would be watching the ship, he was sure, knowing that it was his only chance. He looked at his watch again, saw that it was nine o'clock and decided that he had to stay another hour to make sure that it was dusk. The film came on again and he sat, keeping low in the seat, until it was ten o'clock, then got up and went outside. Standing alongside one of the pillars in the foyer, he studied the street, but there was no sign of either of the three men. Going in to the nearest delicatessen he bought a pile of bread rolls and a pound of cheese, some sliced ham and some tomatoes. In the fruit store next door he bought apples, pears and bananas. His holdall was pretty bulky with all the food in it, so when he saw a taxi cruising by, he hailed it and was taken to the dock gates. He asked the driver to go into the docks and as they came to the gates, Ricky kept low in the back seat. They were not stopped, and when they were a little way inside the docks he asked the driver to stop at the front of a building and got out. As the taxi pulled away, Ricky went behind the buildings and headed towards the British ship. It was pitch dark and he had to be careful not to trip over anything. He could see the lights on the deck of the ship from the end of the alleyway opposite, and he was pleased to see that all the trucks had gone and the farming machinery was on board. Two large harrows and a plough were secured to the top of the hatch covers. There was no activity on deck, but the gangway was still down and a Seaman was at the top of it on gangway duty. She was getting ready to sail, as there was a lot of steam and smoke coming from her funnel. Ricky peered around the corner of the building, looking both ways to see if there was movement anywhere, but as far as he could make out, there wasn't. The quay was deserted. He waited, trying not to breathe too heavily, scared that the watchman on the gangway would remain at his post, preventing him from getting aboard. After ten minutes the watchman put a cigarette in his mouth and patted his pockets for a match. He turned away from the gangway and walked down the deck, disappearing into the accommodation. Ricky stepped out from the shadows and ran towards the gangway. A voice shouted, 'Hey,' and a body hurled itself violently from the doorway of a building on his left, cutting off his route to the gangway. He slithered to a stop and turned away from the gangway and sanctuary, and raced away from the ship, across the quay and down the alley alongside the building. Footsteps were pounding after him and the man was shouting, 'Over here, over here,' at the top of his voice, as he raced up the alley after Ricky. Ricky turned at the corner of the building and ran full tilt down the back of the buildings. He knew there was a rubbish bin outside the next block, and he tipped it over as he reached it. Racing on he heard the man curse as he tripped over the dustbin, and the noises as he went down among the garbage. He heard a bang and the bullet screamed off a piece of steel to his left. Christ, he was shooting at him. Copyright Deric Barry 2005. Deric on hubpages: http://scarytaff.hubpages.com

Innocent on the run. Part 29.

The car was now headed away from the house and he kept his foot down to the floorboards, fishtailing like mad, determined to escape before they shot him in the back. He needn't have bothered, as the three inside the house heard nothing, and they slumbered on, oblivious to it all. Ricky was finding it difficult to steer the car at the terrific speed that he was doing, so he eased his foot off the accelerator. The road was very uneven with large pot holes in places, but he kept going at a steady pace until he came to the main road. He had no idea which direction to travel, so he mentally tossed up and it came down heads. He turned right and remembered to keep to the right hand lane. It was the middle of the night and he didn't want to get stopped by the police, so he kept the car moving below the speed limit. He'd found the light switch halfway down the dirt road, by pulling and pushing every knob he could find, and now the lights were blazing away, lighting up the road ahead of him. It looked like a secondary road, but it was wide enough and there was no traffic about, so he kept driving, putting as many miles as he could between himself and the three men. After an hour by the clock on the dashboard, he came to a large sign which welcomed him to Galveston, and he continued in to the suburbs and then on to the city. He thought that he could mingle in the city and not be noticed. He'd have to get rid of the car, though, that was a certainty. It was five thirty when he drove into an all night diner and parked the car, pulling up at the furthest corner of the car park. He would have to wait until the shops opened to buy some clothes as the overalls were a dead give away. He took the holdall around to the back of the car and opened the boot. There was a check jacket in the boot, and he put it on before locking the holdall safely inside. The coat was a bit big, but at least it covered the overalls. He crossed to the diner and went inside. It was deserted except for an elderly man behind the counter, who was dozing with his head on his folded arms. He woke with a start when the door opened and the warning bell rang. 'Ah, morning.' he said, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. 'What can I get you.' Ricky put on what he hoped was an American accent, 'Coffee.' The old man turned and took a cup from the shelf, filling it from the coffee pot on the heater. He put it down in front of Ricky. 'Going to be a hot one, I reckon.' he said, referring to the weather. 'Mmm.' 'You come far ?' he asked. 'Yeah, long way.' 'That's a Canadian accent aint it ?' 'Yeah.' 'Thought so. I was in Canada once. Toronto. Sure is a beautiful city. You from Toronto?' 'No.' Ricky racked his brain, trying to remember his geography, but he couldn't even think of another city. The old man carried on. 'Sure gets cold up there, don't it ?' 'Yeah.' Ricky was saved from further conversation by a group of four men who came in. They all wanted cooked breakfasts, so he escaped to a table in the corner, while the old man was taking their orders. He hoped there was a docks at Galveston, where he could get a ship. He really ought to hand the money in to the police but he was afraid of what they would do to him. After all he was an accessory to bank robbery, and even if he gave the money back and explained everything, they wouldn't believe him. They had ways of making you confess to crimes you hadn't committed, so what would they do to him when he confessed to a crime that he had committed? He was as guilty as hell, and they would surely put him in jail for a long time. Maybe he could mail the money to the police. Anonymously. No, some crooked cop would steal it, and if they ever caught him, they would still blame him for stealing the money. It was a problem! He decided the best thing to do was play it by ear, and see how things turned out. The food that the men were eating smelled wonderful and he was starving. He went back to the counter and ordered the same as the men had. The old man brought it across to him when it was done, and he looked down at two eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, beans and toast. His cup was filled with coffee again and he tucked in, eating hungrily. The fried breakfast reminded him of Dottie and Chip, and he felt quite sad that he'd not gone back to their flat. He didn't even know their address, so he couldn't send them a postcard. Maybe one day he'd come back to Houston and he could look them up. He needed to thank them for all that they'd done for him, and to apologise for not going back there last night. Last night. Was it really only yesterday that he'd been kidnapped? It seemed like it happened ages ago. He finished his breakfast and looked at the clock on the wall. Six thirty. He couldn't really hang around much longer without raising suspicion, so he went to the counter and paid. 'So long,' the old chap shouted at him as he went out through the door. The car started up with the first turn of the key, and he rolled out of the car park on to the highway. He would have to be very careful now, with it being full daylight, and he drove slowly into Galveston, with no idea of where to go. If he kept heading south he thought he would eventually come to the sea, so it was with a lightened heart that he eventually spotted some cranes and masts, which could only mean one thing. The docks. The signs on the side of the road told him that Texas City was to the left. He couldn't see any large ships masts, so he cruised on along Highway 75, across the bridge separating Galveston Island from the mainland. After a few miles, he spotted the docks with large ships tied up at the Piers, so decided it was safe to try for a ship here. During the drive he had already decided that if he found a port, he would not leave the car anywhere near it. The men who would be surely following him by now, knew that he wanted to get a ship, so the first place they would look would be Galveston Docks. With the docks behind him, he drove until he spotted a large car park, about four miles from the port. Driving in and paying for all day parking he parked the car at the furthest point from the road, and collected the holdall from the boot. He walked back into the town and found a clothing store that had just opened. Taking some money from the holdall, he bought two pairs of jeans, two shirts, some underwear and a pair of good quality cowboy boots. A new holdall was next, and he stuffed his purchases into it and went in search of a place to change his clothes. There was a diner a few blocks down the road so he went into their rest room. Transferring the money to the new holdall, he carried the two bags outside again got rid of the old clothes and bag in a garbage bin on the pavement, then walked through the crowds on the Strand, a wide shopping boulevard, with a new confidence, blending in with the other passers by. His priority was a British ship, and he walked across the Strand and on to the piers, keeping a very wary eye open for any sign of the three bank robbers. He smiled as he wondered what their reaction had been when they found him missing, and the money gone. Their hangovers must be killing them. One thing was certain, if they ever laid hands on him, he was dead. There were ships of all different Nationalities in the docks, but after an hour he still hadn't found one flying the British Merchant Flag, the Red Duster. Keeping to the shadows of buildings as much as possible, he walked on in the ever increasing heat, sweat pouring out of him. The docks were very busy, with oil tankers and grain ships loading up to take their cargoes worldwide. There were ships registered in Greece, Panama, Liberia and many other countries that he didn't recognise. American flags, French, German and Swiss flew on dozens of vessels, but there was not one Union Jack. On pier 21 he admired the restored iron barque Elissa, and read on the board at the gangway that she was built in 1877, and belonged to the Texas Seaport Museum. He searched the piers all day for a vessel, without any luck, and at one time almost decided to try a foreign ship, but language would be the problem. He may not be able to make them understand what he was doing on their ship. His plan had been to find a British vessel, ask one of the dockers when she was sailing, and then sneak aboard and stow away in the darkness, before she sailed. In the early evening, he gave up, deciding to get some sleep and try again the following day. It was maddening, to get this far and then be held up because there was no ship available. The longer he stayed around here, the more chance there was of being discovered and murdered. He walked away from the docks with a sinking feeling in his stomach, tired and depressed. Once away from the docks area, he went into a crowded diner and ate a meal. There was a motel next to the diner and he booked a room and climbed into bed, exhausted. A persistent knocking on the door wakened him and he swung his legs out of bed and crossed to the door. 'Who's there,' he called. 'It's the maid, Sir, I need to clean the room.' 'What time is it, please?' 'Twelve noon.' Damn, he must have been tired. 'Won't be a minute, ' he called through the door, pulling his trousers on. When he was dressed he opened the door for the maid to come in. She was a little coloured girl with a big grin on her face. 'Sorry,' he said. 'I overslept.' 'That's O.K. Sir, no problem.' and she busied herself stripping the bed. Ricky went into the bathroom and washed. He must get a watch, and he'd also forgotten a toothbrush, paste and a comb. Wetting his hair and smoothing it down with his hands, he picked up his holdall, said goodbye to the maid and left. It was hot again, the sun directly overhead, beating down mercilessly. Nearer to the docks, Ricky went into a Drug store and bought toothbrush, paste and a comb. He sat at the counter and had a hamburger and a milk shake for breakfast. Next door there was a jewellery store and he bought a decent watch, one of the automatic ones that wound itself. Feeling a lot better than he had the previous day, he renewed his search for a British ship. He was filled with hope, and he strode out, humming to himself. It was a long job searching the docks, and by mid afternoon he was feeling a bit dejected. He was still keeping to the shade of buildings, and observing ships from a distance when his stomach gave a lurch. Shifty was talking to one of the dockers near an American ship. Copyright Deric Barry 2005. Deric's hubs: http://scarytaff.hubpages.com

Innocent on the run. Part 28.

'Shut up you crazy bastard.' Shifty bellowed, but he was smiling. The car slowed a little, and soon they were right out in the country, with not another vehicle in sight. The driver turned off on to a dirt track and they bounced along the uneven ground for a few miles before coming to a halt under some trees. Another car was waiting there, and they transferred the holdall to its boot, before climbing in and driving away. The men were in an excellent humour, laughing and telling the driver how easy it had been, as they drove off the dirt road and back on to the highway. They headed back towards the city and took the ring road, by-passing the centre. Once away from Houston they headed South, keeping to the speed limit. Two police cars passed in the other direction, with their lights flashing, and Shifty waved them goodbye out of the back window. The driver thought it was a huge joke. Ricky was worried. What would they do with him? He could identify them. What was also bad, was that the bank staff could identify him. He was as much a bank robber as they were. Who would believe that they forced him to do it ? He hadn't been threatened inside the bank. He'd done as he was told and picked the bags of money up. To anyone watching, he must have seemed a part of the gang. He thought he was in trouble before, but that was nothing compared to the trouble he was in now. The car drove on down the highways, Ricky sitting in the corner, lost in his own thoughts. Two hours later they turned the car off the highway, onto a dirt road, and after a couple of miles, pulled up at a lonely farmhouse and drove the car into a barn. The two men in the front got out, and, as the driver opened Ricky's door, the other one opened the boot and got the holdall out. Ricky got out and was escorted into the farmhouse by Shifty and the driver. 'Don't even think about running anywhere,' Shifty told him. 'We're thirty miles from the next farm.' Shifty unlocked the front door and they went into the living room. The driver went to a refrigerator in the corner of the kitchen and came back with six beers. The three men opened beers and drank noisily. 'Have a beer, kid.' The driver said. 'I won't tell the cops you're under age.' He laughed, spilling some beer from his bottle. 'No, thanks.' Ricky said. It was beer that got him in the mess he was in, in the first place. Shifty and the other man were pulling the money bags out of the holdall, and putting them on the kitchen table. The driver took Ricky by the arm and sat him down on a kitchen chair where they could keep an eye on him. They emptied the bags of money on to the table in a pile and started counting it. Ricky had never seen so much money before ! There was a mountain of it, and it took ages to count ! The three men were ecstatic! The driver grabbed Shifty and did a little dance with him. 'Yahoo,' he whooped. 'Sixty eight thousand dollars. Whoooee.' 'Cut it out, you moron,' Shifty laughed. The other man was grinning all over his face. 'Take a good look, kid,' he said. 'You'll never see that much money again.' They divided the money into three piles and each put his pile in a bag, storing the bags in a cupboard. Shifty tucked the guns in his waistband and threw the holdall in a corner. The driver took some steaks out of the fridge and got a frying pan out. He heated the pan up and threw the first steak in. It was huge and filled the pan, and it smelled great as it sizzled away. He turned it once after about a minute, then once that side had cooked for a minute, he tipped it onto a plate, and passed it to Shifty. He cooked another one, said 'Here, Dan,' and the other man put down his beer and took it. The last one he cooked was for himself. Ricky looked at the meat and felt hunger pangs. He was ravenous. 'Do one for the kid.' Dan said. 'Let him do his own, I ain’t his servant.' Ricky got up from his chair and took a steak from the pile on top of the fridge. He heated up the pan again and cooked it. It was the first time he'd cooked a steak, and maybe it was a bit burned, but it tasted heavenly. 'Now, look,' Shifty said, opening another beer, and lighting a cigarette. 'We've got to decide what to do with this kid. He can identify us, and we could go down for a long time for this job.' The driver went across to the fridge and got another six beers out. He and Dan opened bottles. 'I only want to get out of the country...' Ricky began. 'Shut it ! ' Shifty warned. 'What's that ?' the driver asked him? 'I'm an illegal immigrant. I just want to go home to England. ' 'No one knows you're in this country?' Shifty asked. 'No.' he lied. 'Well then, it's easy.' Shifty told the others. 'We can knock him off and no one will miss him.' 103. Ricky was petrified. They were going to kill him. He started babbling, 'No, No, you don't need to do that, all I want is a ship and I'm out of the country, drop me off at a port and I'll jump a ship, I'll be gone before you know it, no one will ever know I've been here and when I'm gone you're .....' 'Shut up !' Shifty screamed. Dan said, 'We can't take you anywhere kid. They're looking for three men and a kid, the kid wearing dirty blue coveralls. The whole state will be out looking for us.' 'Yeah,' the driver giggled, 'We're famous, kid, we'd never make it. We're like the James gang,' and he drew an imaginary gun and said 'Bang bang,' laughing hysterically. He crossed to the cupboard and took a bottle of whisky out. Breaking the seal and holding it to his mouth, he gulped the fiery liquid down, and belched. 'Wow, ' he gasped. Shifty took the bottle off him and drank deeply. 'We got to think,' he said, and lit a cigarette. Ricky's stomach was knotted up and he started to shake. 'Maybe if two of you stayed here and the other one took me.....' 'Get this kid out of here,' Shifty bellowed. 'I can't think straight with him yakking.' The driver took Ricky by the arm, and dragged him up off the chair. There was a door opening off the kitchen and he kicked it open and shoved Ricky inside. He looked around him, but there was no means of escape. There was no window and the walls looked solid. It was a store room with shelves full of tins of food. Boxes and sacks of other goods were stacked at one end and large pieces of meat hung from hooks in the ceiling. It looked as though the three men had taken enough stores to last them years. Obviously the plan was to hide out here, after getting rid of him, Ricky thought. He was in big trouble. He listened at the door to try to overhear what their plans for him were. Shifty was talking rapidly, but Ricky couldn't hear what he was saying through the thick door. He heard the driver's maniacal laughter once, but he gave up trying to eavesdrop after a while and sat in the corner with his back against a sack. Chapter 9. Shifty said, ` We got no choice, he got to go.' The driver handed the whisky bottle to Dan, and said, 'O.K. I'll do it. I'll squash him like a bug.' and he squeezed his thumb down on the table. Dan drained the whisky bottle and laughed. 'Just breathe on him, skunk breath, that'll be enough.' The driver roared with laughter, beating his fists on the table. 'Skunk breath,' he repeated. Shifty got a new bottle of whisky from the cupboard and opened it, taking a long swallow, before passing it to Dan. Dan paused before taking a gulp. 'It's a shame,' he said. 'He seems like a nice kid' 'Yeah, a nice kid who can get us twenty years each,' Shifty told him. 'You ain't going soft on us are you, Dan.' 'Hell no.' Dan replied. 'I know it's got to be done.' 'And I'm the one to do it,' the driver added. He pointed his finger like a gun and said , 'Bing. Kaput. Finito.' Dan handed the bottle to the driver who took a large swallow, before passing it on to Shifty. 'We don't want a mess in here,' Shifty told him. 'Not like that last one you did. He bled all over the place.' 'Yeah, he was a bleeder,' the driver slurred. 'Hish blood wash all over.' He spread his arms to encompass the area that the blood had covered, and grinned. Shifty took another swallow and handed the bottle over to Dan. The whisky was affecting all of them by now, but they were all on a high, and knew they could handle it. Dan took a swallow from the bottle and said, 'Do it outside somewhere, and make it clean.' 'Right, clean. I'll take him over to the swamp, stand him on the bank, then Bang, right in the head. He falls in the swamp and the 'gators have him for breakfast. That's clean, he gets a wash as well.' He bent over the table laughing uproariously, slapping the table with his hands. Dan passed him the bottle and he sniggered as drained it in one swallow. 'Man, that's good ,' he gasped. Dan crossed over to the cupboard and looked in. 'Maybe we should have got more whisky. These bottles are going too fast.' He took another one out and opened it, taking a deep draught. The driver slurred, 'There's another case, in the shtore room,' as he took the bottle and drank. 'Yahoo,' he screamed, out of the blue. 'Sixty eight thoushand,'and drummed his heels on the floor. The others laughed at him performing, and Shifty took the bottle from him and took a drink. 'I told you guys to stick with me.' he shouted. 'Stick with me, I said, didn't I, huh ?' and he held the bottle above his head and did a little dance. 'Yahoo.' the driver echoed, bouncing up and down in his chair. Dan took the bottle from Shifty and drank. It was nectar ! He staggered as he put the bottle down, colliding with a chair. He steadied it and said, 'Friggin chair's alive.' 'In the morning, when it's light, I take him out and clean him up.' The driver shouted. 'Hey, that shounds like a song.' Dan said. His mouth was working , but the words were coming out wrong. He started singing. 'In the morning, when it's light.' 'The kid goes to the swamp, and the 'gators fight.' Shifty joined in. The three of them thought it was hilarious, and roared with laughter. The level of whisky in the bottle dropped until there was only a small amount left. 'Shit,' Dan held it up and looked at it, swaying a little and clutching at a chair back for support. 'Whisky don't last long.' Shifty staggered into the living room and sat down on the settee. Dan followed him with the remains of the bottle. 'Drink up, now, baby,' he said, holding the bottle up to Shifty's mouth. Shifty tried to laugh as he was drinking it and nearly choked. He was spluttering and gasping, spilling most of the drink down his front, as the other two laughed like mad. Dan weaved his way back to the kitchen table and threw the empty bottle at the wall. It bounced off the wall with a crash. 'Friggin bottle's dry,' he screamed. 'You sit down, Dan.' The driver said, and put a chair under Dan as he collapsed onto it. 'I'll fesh another one.' He got unsteadily to his feet and stumbled across to the cupboard. Taking another bottle out, he got the top off with a little difficulty and turned to Dan, but Dan was already passed out, his feet stretched out in front of him and his head resting against the back of the chair. The driver looked at Dan and shouted, 'Pussy,' before staggering in to the living room to give Shifty a drink. Shifty was also passed out, with his mouth open and loud rasping snores coming from it. The driver shook him by the shoulder, 'Wake up, you bastard.' he bellowed. But Shifty wouldn't wake if he'd put an atom bomb under him. 'Pussy,' he shouted. 'Pussies,' he called as he made his way back to the table. He sat down heavily and raised the bottle to his lips, taking a swallow. 'It's down to me to stay awake,' he shouted. 'It's down to me. Wheee,' and he took another drink from the bottle. He lowered the bottle and said, 'Wha...' as his head crashed onto the table and the bottle slid from his fingers, bouncing on the floor before spilling the contents in a wide circle around his chair. Ricky heard the bottle crash against the wall as Dan threw it, and ran to the door to try to hear what was going on. He couldn't make anything out, though, and stood there with his head pressed against the wood straining to catch a word. He heard the chair scrape back as The Driver plonked himself down on it, and he heard 'Wheee.' A little while later he heard the bottle hit the floor and roll around before coming to a stop. What did it all mean, he wondered! It was as quiet as the grave out there now and he tried the door handle. The door was unlocked. He opened it a crack and listened. Nothing. Then he heard a snore. He opened the door wider, and he could see the chair with The Driver's head and shoulders slumped on the table top. Sliding out into the room further, he could see Dan fast asleep on a chair, his head thrown back, snoring softly. Ricky crept out into the kitchen. Where was the Shifty one? He peered around the door of the kitchen into the living room, and he could see Shifty stretched out on the settee. The car. Make it to the car and get away. He was halfway across the living room to the door when he remembered the money. Maybe he could return it and clear his name. Although he hated the idea of going back, he crept back to the kitchen, scooped the money into the holdall and crossed back to the door, expecting at any minute to be shot in the back by one of the men. The hair was standing up on the back of his neck, but he made it to the door and let himself out. Stifling the urge to run for his life, he walked swiftly to the barn and opened the doors, hoping with all his might that they'd left the keys in the car. He opened the driver's door and looked in. Yes. the keys were in the ignition. He threw the holdall in and got in. Easing the door shut he looked down to the automatic shift and slid it into Park. Crossing his fingers once, he turned the key and the engine burst into life. Slamming the drive into Reverse, he floored the pedal and the car shot out of the barn. He forgot to grab the steering wheel but it didn't matter, the car shot backwards in a straight line. Only when he had gone a hundred yards or so, did he stop the car, slam it into Drive and floor the pedal again. He shot towards the house, and, in a panic, wrenched the wheel left. The car swerved madly away from the front of the house and screeched on two wheels in a tight turn, hitting one of the porch supports as it went. Copyright Deric Barry 2005. Deric'shubs http://scarytaff.hubpages.com

King George 6th.

King George was a reluctant king. His brother abdicated and left George with the crown. http://scarytaff.hubpages.com/hub/King-George-6th?done

Innocent on the run. Part 27.

Chapter 8. The policeman stood with his hands on his hips, looking at Ricky. 'What's up, kid? You sick?' 'No.' he mumbled, lying through his teeth. His stomach was in uproar, and his heart beating like mad. He stumbled towards the cop, almost holding out his hands for the cuffs, when the policeman said, 'Where's Joe?' Joe! He wants Joe, not me. Thank God! He muttered, trying to hide his accent, 'Back soon.' The policeman looked at him curiously, trying to decide whether he was a genuine half wit, or was he just practising to be one. He turned and got back in his car and started the engine. 'Tell him Lennie called and I'll speak to him later.' He looked at Ricky to see if his message had got through. 'Okay?' Ricky nodded. The cop looked away and said, 'Jeez,' before driving off shaking his head. Ricky opened the Chevvy's door and sat down with his head resting on the steering wheel. His legs had gone wobbly. The sense of relief was enormous. He'd have to get down the docks and see if there was a ship he could get on. He'd be a nervous wreck if he didn't. After a while he felt better, so he got out and finished cleaning the car. He was throwing the dirty water away when the phone rang, so he ran to the office and lifted the receiver. 'Hi, kid, it's Joe. Listen, we're held up for a while with this guy who bought the car. Any messages?' 'A cop came in. Lennie. Said he'd see you later.' 'Okay. Now when you've finished the Chevvy, start on that red Ford next to it. The keys are on my desk. See you later.' He hung up. Ricky picked up the bunch of keys off the desk and went back outside. The piece of forecourt outside the office wasn't big enough for two cars, he'd have to move the Chevvy first, then bring the Ford over. It was a tricky operation, and he managed it without causing any damage, but he was sweating streams by the time he'd finished the operation. He was finishing the Ford off when the car pulled up and Joe got out, carrying a paper bag. Frank drove across to the garage and parked his car. Joe grinned, 'Hey, you did it, driving's easy, aint it?' 'Yes. Piece of cake.' 'Anyone else been?' 'No. Oh, yes. Someone was looking at that Blue car on the front row.' He indicated the car he'd ripped the wing mirror off, hoping that the fictitious customer would get the blame for the damage. 'But he drove off again.' 'Okay.' Joe went into the office and put the coffee on to boil. When it was ready he called Ricky in. He pointed at a paper bag on the desk. 'Lunch.' he said. Halfway through lunch, a car pulled up on the road near to the car display and a man got out and started inspecting the cars. Joe was out of the office like a shot. It was the fastest Ricky had seen him move. He talked to the customer for ten minutes, showing him different cars, before the man climbed back into his car and drove off. Joe came back to the office, and he had the wing mirror on his hand. His face was like thunder. He stamped into the office. Ricky's face went white. 'Goddam,' he shouted. 'This guy you saw looking at the cars this morning. What did he look like?' Ricky thought fast. 'Tall, skinny guy with red hair.' 'You sure it was red hair?' 'Yes, why?' 'There's a tall skinny guy with black hair who thinks he had a raw deal from me, just because his transmission was shot. Said he'd get even. Now I find one of the wing mirror's broken off. Thought it was him.' 'No, this guy had red hair. And a red moustache,' he added. Joe threw the mirror in the corner. 'Goddam.' he repeated. Ricky breathed a sigh of relief. He was off the hook. He finished his sandwich and went outside to wash some more cars. Later that afternoon, they got quite busy with a lot of people looking at the cars. Joe went out with a customer on a trial run, and told Ricky to hold the fort. When he came back he told Ricky that he always went out with the customers on trials, ever since he'd had a car stolen letting someone go out on his own. Three men walked on to the site, looking at the cars, and wanted a trial run in a fast looking coupe. Joe explained that he was just taking a lady out in a car, and if they could wait a little while, he'd be happy to take them out. One of the men, a short, swarthy looking individual with shifty eyes said, 'Hell, we don't need no one to come with us.' 'I'm afraid it's company policy, sir.' Joe said. 'Our insurance is void if one of us doesn't accompany you. If you're in a hurry.' he added, 'I'll get Rick here, to come with you.' Shifty eyes was about to say 'No.' when one of the others said, 'Yeah, okay. The kid can come.' They drove off the forecourt with Ricky sat in the back alongside Shifty Eyes, and headed towards the city centre. 'How much gas is in this heap,' the one alongside the driver asked. 'Not much,' came the reply. 'Okay, pull in to the next gas station.' They pulled in to a garage forecourt and filled up with gas. Ricky thought it a bit strange that they should put gas in one of Joe's cars, but maybe it was an American custom, and they'd get the money off Joe later. They drove through the city, on wide roads packed with vehicles of all kinds, huge skyscrapers lining the route, and out the other side to the suburbs. They'd been gone a long time, now, and Ricky wondered how much of a trial they would give the car. Surely Joe would be worrying about them, thinking they'd had an accident. 'How much further are we going ?' Ricky asked. 'Shut it, kid.' Shifty Eyes snarled. They pulled up to the side of a long, low building, and the man alongside the driver got out. Shifty pulled a revolver out of his pocket and pointed it at Ricky. 'Out.' he said. 'One wrong move, and you're dead.' Ricky's eyes widened in fear, but he opened the door and got out onto the pavement. Shifty followed, the gun concealed in his pocket, and grabbed Ricky's arm. 'Move.' he said. The three of them went around to the front of the building, Ricky sandwiched between two men. He could see that it was a bank, now. My God, he said to himself, they're going to rob the bank. They paused in the doorway and the two men pulled their neck scarves up over the lower part of their faces. Bundling Ricky in through the door, they shouted, 'Stick up, no one move!' There were no customers, just two people behind the open plan counter. They froze at the sight of two guns pointing at them. Shifty bellowed at them, 'Put the money in bags. Move it.' The staff started shoving money in bags and putting them on the counter, until there were five bags stuffed with money in a pile. 'Now move back from the counter.' Shifty shouted, covering them with his gun. He pushed Ricky forward. 'Get the bags,' he said. Ricky picked up the bags and moved back to Shifty. 'Outside,' he snarled. Ricky went out through the door as the car pulled up with the two nearside doors open. He slid into the back and was pushed into the corner by Shifty propelling himself in on top of him. Both doors slammed shut as the car screeched away from the curb and raced down the street at breakneck speed. The driver gave a triumphant whoop, as they sped off, slapping the steering wheel in exultation. The two men took their bandannas off and the one in the front handed Shifty a holdall. He took the bags of money from Ricky and put them in the holdall, watching through the rear window for any sign of pursuit. The man in front handed his gun back, and Shifty put both weapons in the holdall. The car was on the outskirts of the suburbs now, heading towards the country and they raced along the roads, overtaking other vehicles and jumping traffic lights. 'Slow down, for Christ's sake.' Shifty shouted. 'You'll have the cops on us.' The driver laughed, 'Yahoo,' he shouted. 'We done it! Yahoo.' Copyright Deric Barry 2005.