Page 20 of Drift

Gray nodded. “Clear access to Tucker’s home address in Wales and get me any street CCTV in a two-block area if there is any, then.” Beyond that, the mark could slip in from anywhere.

“Absolutely, and I’ll send you over the chief constable’s private number for South Wales Police.” He flicked a look at Gray. “It’ll go a lot smoother with one of their own talking to him, even if you are from the North.”

Gray snorted a smile, and he pulled out his own phone to let Jack know he’d be gone for the day, but his hand hovered over letting Jan know. He did eventually, but he’d make damn sure to keep any mention of death away from him for at least another twenty-four hours.

He needed life to stay as calm as possible for both of them, at least until he’d be back in time to catch any potential fallout.

Chapter 6

FALLOUT

“Jack, Bill’s MOT was booked in at yours, but he’s turned up here, and I don’t have the staff to cover it. His daughter thinks he has early onset Alzheimer’s. She’s really sorry. He’d forgotten he wasn’t supposed to be driving.” The worry in Steve’s voice came through on the phone as Jack sat alone in his Mercedes-Benz.

Pulling on the last drag of smoke, Jack looked at his dashboard clock. Halliday had called to rearrange their meeting until tomorrow due to some emergency, and since then, he’d done a repair on a Renault, set up a respray, and this was supposed to be him, off on his mid-morning break. “Okay.” He held back on his sigh. “I can be there in about forty minutes. Just keep him happy with Gray’s coffee until I get there.”

Steve sucked in a pained breath. “You’re telling Gray I’ve… borrowed some of his fancier stuff.”

Jack snorted a smirk as he flicked his cigarette out the car window. “Fucking wuss.”

“Hell yes. And you sure you don’t mind?”

“About Gray’s coffee? Can’t stand it, mate.”

“I meant coming here, ass.”

Jack laughed. “No,” he said gently. “No worries. I’ll be there. Just remind Bill’s daughter we offer a pick-me-up and drop off: it’s part of the service if the customer’s going to be without a car or is disabled.” Fuck knows he knew what it was like to have a licence taken away.

“Will do. And you’re a diamond, mate.”

“That’s boss to you. I’ve got the baseball bat to prove it.”

Steve laughed. “I’ve got a Sam. Fight you for the whole boss thing.” Jack winced, and then the Merc fell quiet as he ended the call. Eventually, he eased an elbow out the window and stared out at the building ahead.

The wind rattled a For Sale sign a few car spaces down, sending a blue plastic carrier bag dancing over the cracked concrete that had seen better days. Almost lost to the woods behind him, a B road ran close by, just beyond the gated land, but no soft sound of tyre on road drifted over. “Ashes of Eden” kept him company in the cooling car, the guitars soft, the lyrics barely heard with how low he kept it. Occasionally the wind kissed the Mercedes, rocking him slightly, but it didn’t disturb his look out at the building ahead of him.

Two huge stacks of steel containers used for transport played bouncers either side of the rusted roller doors to the main building, yet the loading bay ahead stood open, almost welcoming the offer of life from the wind that raced inside, taking dust and dirt onto the floor before being swallowed by darkness. The factory itself split itself into two: one large building with three floors, one smaller just a walk away. With the rows of steel shelving, the latter looked like it had had a lifetime of storing parts that the main building made. The newer brickwork also called out office space and the main reception. Both had seen better days, more love in its time, and the echo ofworkers, forklifts, and clocking out cards punching out carried on despite the factory been closed.

Jack’s look stayed on the main factory building, its grey crumbling brickwork and broken windows. The morning sun caught one pane, almost as if it felt sorry with how life passed it by on the roadside, so it sent over a light wave, and the window reflected it back its way with a tired thank you.

“C’mon. They’re missing you, y’stubborn bastard. And it’s getting hard to find new ways to do this,” he mumbled. Leaving his playlist on, Jack opened the door and got out of the Merc.

Wind battered him, buffeting him enough to fasten his leather jacket and turn his collar up against the winter bite, and he ran a hand through his hair after it whipped into his eyes. His saloon S-Class Merc looked at odds with the car park and factory: sleek, black, whispering modern luxury and first-class comfort in amongst an underpaid working-class system that refused to let go of its broken-boned hold on the land.

Didn’t matter the class, a building used to be pretty much that to Jack: a building. A house made from brickwork. The people inside gave themake it, break itfeelings that pulled or pushed him away.

But this place?

Jack made his way over to the roller doors. For a moment he stopped by the steel containers, his head tilted up to get a close look at the bouncers that looked set to mimic Gray and tell him toMove on, stunner, for your own peace of mind.

Jack offered a soft smile. “Don’t need you saving me, mukka.” After a moment, he stepped over the picket line, the kiss of infected wind whipping around him as if to encourage it.

Concrete dugouts ran the floor in two rows. The skeleton of a crane above added to the old oil marks on the floor. Along with the dugouts, they told tales of how huge transfer presses had once been housed on the shop floor. So too did the scent of sawdust used to soak up the oil spills, but that could have been Jack’s scent association, along with the pallets used to transfer the parts over to the storeroom. If he had to take a guess, the factory had seen a good portion of its life as an Original Equipment Manufacturer, so no scrap yard parts used to piece together an engine, only original ones with this OEM. For whom, he didn’t know. He didn’t exactly care anymore.

A long glass partition showed an office of some sorts off to the left, and beyond that, a broken sign marked where the toilets were. No doubt there’d be a canteen close by.

Giving everywhere the once-over again, Jack headed for the glass partition and the offer of a set of stairs leading up to the second floor.

Up here, the door had been removed. Jan had mentioned there had been one there, but Gray had given the description Jack knew all too well: a reinforced frosted glazed white RH external door with a half-moon glass window on the upper half.

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