“How do you know he is a Takwich?”
“I - I don’t know. That’s what my uncle called him. But Silk - or the takwich or whatever he is - has him and now he wants me. Please, I’ve got nobody else to turn to.” In the silence that followed, Elora realised how true that was - she was totally alone. Nat had been her only family.
“Have you a pen?” the man asked finally.
“No.”
“Then you’ll need to remember this address. Unit 27b, Chadwell Heath Industrial Estate, North London.” Elora repeated the address to herself, committing it to memory. “Be there at two this afternoon.” There was a click followed by the disconnection tone. He had hung up.
Did she really trust this person? She had never met him, and he sounded rude as hell. But what choice did she have? None. She checked the time on the telephone display. It was a little past eight am. If she caught the train she could be in London in two hours. That would give her time to find the address. It wouldn’t be cheap. She took out the money stuffed in her jeans pocket. She had a little under ninety pounds. It should be enough for the train but there wouldn’t be much left over.
Bray hung up and put the mobile back in his pocket. The call had come totally out of the blue. Nobody had dialled that number in his three years on Earth. And according to Diagus, nobody had used it in all his five-year duty.
He had never understood why he had to have a phone at all. Only a handful of people on Earth even knew of his existence. For security reasons, the number was linked to a landline on the other side of the city, and calls - if there were any - were automatically redirected to his mobile. Never mind: it paid to be careful. In theory it was easy to trace a call on the landline, but almost impossible for anyone to locate his mobile. That’s why he had instructed the girl to meet him at the industrial estate, at a place and time of his choosing. It would give him the perfect opportunity to check out if she was genuine or was leading him into some kind of trap. Maybe she was being followed. Diagus was always telling him to be vigilant. He never explained why. But if there was one thing he had learned about the aged Shadojak, it was that he always had his reasons, and they were usually good ones. Right now, the Shadojak wasn’t here and so it was his responsibility as Shaigun to take whatever action was necessary. Yet if the girl spoke the truth and there really was a takwich involved, then Diagus needed to be told. Like the bulworg he had dispatched the previous night, some creatures didn’t belong on Earth.
Strapping on his helmet, he fired the bike to life, put it into gear and roared down the street and back towards the city. He needed to prepare and get into an advantageous position to study the girl.
Chapter 5
Heads or Tails?
Chadwell Heath Industrial Estate was a concrete maze of huge factories and smaller units that lay on either side of a potholed road, on the outskirts of London. Standing beside the entrance, Elora gazed at a map, trying to locate Unit 27b. A steady stream of articulated lorries pulled out of the gates onto the uneven road, airbrakes and suspension hissing as they thundered past, putting her already frayed nerves on edge.
The train journey to London and the subsequent taxi ride to the estate had been uneventful but Elora had scarcely relaxed for a moment, constantly on the alert for any signs of Reuben and his thugs. Guided by the map, she located the unit, a small service garage by the name of Time Scale Motors. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she approached the entrance.
The building was sandwiched between two unused units yet the garage itself was open. A large roller door was up and from inside she could hear a car engine running.
Elora stepped inside the dimly lit workshop. A car was up on a ramp and a tall man in an oversized boiler suit and tanned rigger boots was working under it with his back to her. He appeared to be alone.
Despite the gloom, she could see that the place was in serious need of a clean. The windows were cobweb-strewn and filthy, and the brick walls were plastered with faded pinups and calendars displaying naked women. She passed a steel welder’s bench, full of dents and scratches. On it was a stripped-down engine, with parts, belts and bolts strewn around it haphazardly. How could anybody run a business like this? How would they know which bits went where? But then again, what did she know about cars?
She checked her watch: nearly two o’clock.
“Excuse me?” she ventured, raising her voice over the noise of the engine. The man appeared not to have noticed her. Then she saw why. He was wearing headphones - probably listening to an iPod or something. Elora approached him and tapped him on the shoulder.
His shocked face showed utter surprise as he turned to look at her. She guessed him to be a year or two older than herself, tall with dark, unruly hair. His face was heavy with acne and an angry boil sat beside his nose looking ready to burst at any moment. He popped his headphones out and let them hang loose from the top of his greasy boiler suit.
“Sorry to disturb you. I’m meeting somebody at two - Shadojak. He told me to come here.” She tried hard not stare at the boil, but it wasn’t easy to ignore.
The mechanic wiped his chin absent-mindedly as he regarded her.
“Don’t know anyone by that name,” he said in a thick London accent. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” His face screwed up making the boil bulge further out.
“Nothing, they’re contact lenses. Maybe I got the place wrong.” Yet this was unit 27b, exactly where the man on the phone had said.
“Hang on a bit, let me check the diary. The gaffer booked somebody in for a service this afternoon.” He sauntered over to a metal bench laden with tools, car parts, magazines and manuals. It took him a moment to find what he was looking for, shifting boxes and other items out of the way before flipping open a diary. He flicked to today’s page and frowned.
“Says here there’s a Mr Shadojak booked in for two.” He glanced to a clock on the wall. “Should be here any minute.”
Elora nodded. So, she had come to the right place after all.
“Would it be OK if I waited here?” Ever since last night, she had been looking over her shoulder constantly in case somebody was following or watching her.
“Suit yourself,” the mechanic shrugged. He was about to put his earphones back in and get back to work, then paused.
“Fancy a cup of tea, coffee?”
Elora hadn’t eaten since the night before and was sure it would make her feel a little better.
“Yes, please.”
“Great. Kettle’s over there,” he said, nodding towards a darkened corner of the room where there was a sink and small unit. “Mine’s a coffee, white, two sugars.” With a wink, he wandered back to the ramp.
Elora couldn’t believe the cheek of him. Well, if making him a cup of coffee was the price of being able to wait inside, so be it. At least he seemed friendly enough.
She filled the kettle and washed a couple of mugs which she doubted had ever been clean. There was no cloth, so she rinsed them under the tap and used her fingers to rub the grime off, hoping that the boiling water would kill any remaining germs. The milk was powdered and judging by the trail of small white paw prints along the lid, some tiny creature had been burrowing in it. OK, maybe black coffee then. Elora put a heaped spoonful into the mechanic’s mug, along with two spoons of clumped-together sugar, took his coffee over to him, then leaned against the bench as she drank hers. Without milk or sugar, it wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing.
She checked the clock. It was almost two twenty and the mysterious Shadojak hadn’t shown up. By three, he still hadn’t made an appearance and she was debating whether to ask the mechanic if she could use the phone, when three men stepped into the garage. Elora’s heart suddenly jumped as fright took a hold of her. She recognised the trio.
“Hello, Elora,” Reuben said smoothly, as he drew out his gun. “You gave us a bit of a fright running off like that. Didn’t think I’d ever get chance to see those pretty eyes of yours again.”
She looked to the mechanic for help, but he was oblivious under the ramp, bobbing his head to the music on his headphones. On a nod from Reuben, Pinky gave him a savage kick in the back of the knees and he fell in a heap to the concrete floor yelling as he went. The cry was cut short as Pinky grabbed him by the collar of the boiler suit, dragged him out and roughly hauled him to his feet.
“What the bloody hell’s going on? Get outta my garage before I call the police,” he said, looking as petrified as she felt.
“Who’s this?” Reuben asked, levelling the gun on her. “Relation, boyfriend?”
Elora stared at the gun that had shot her uncle, fear making her stammer.
