Free Civvies by Lynda La Plante Page A

we got rapped over the head an’ lost it.’ He jerked round, staring out into the gathering darkness as a police car, lights flashing, siren wailing, appeared over the flyover behind them and shot past towards the main roundabout. They watched it vanish towards White City. Dillon flopped back, limp as a wrung-out dish-rag. ‘Come on, it’s okay. So we had a bit of aggro,’ Jimmy admitted, pulling the money-belt free and folding it with the other. His old cocky bravado was back, as if being chased by the police was all in a day’s work, which probably wasn’t far from the truth, Dillon was starting to realise. The cab driver was looking over his shoulder and Jimmy rattled his knuckles on the sliding window. ‘Oi! Keep your face to the front. What you think we are, couple of woofters? We’re waitin’ for a pick-up.’ A mite pissed off himself, the driver slid the panel open, beaked nose and bristly chin outlined in the green dashboard lights. ‘I don’t give a shit what you do, but parkin’ here is illegal. Pay the fare — you wanna wait, that’s your business! I can get fired for parkin’ here.’ Dillon nodded curtly at the money-belts Jimmy was holding. ‘Pay him, Jimmy. Sure as hell got enough dough!’ Jimmy peered out, banging the window with his fist. ‘Where the hell is he?’ ‘How long does he expect us to wait?’ asked Dillon, getting jittery all over again. ‘You think we aren’t drawing attention to us now, parked here?’ He grabbed the door handle. ‘Next thing a bloody cop car’ll stop… I’m out of here!’ ‘Wait!’ Jimmy pulled Dillon back, face pale and twitching. The last time Dillon had seen him so hyped up was standing in the open doorway of a Hercules C-130, line rigged up, cheeks rippling like a rubber mask in the slipstream, ready to jump. ‘That guy I whacked,’ Jimmy said. ‘He was a police officer.’ Dillon slowly blinked at him, unable to take it in. Assaulting a copper and he’d been accessory to it. They were talking prison here. The cabbie’s patience finally worn though, he stuck his head in, telling them straight, ‘You think I’m stupid? I’ve given you the warnin’, now I’m gonna call the law!’ Without a second’s hesitation Jimmy viciously slammed the panel shut against the cabbie’s face, and in a fury started stuffing fivers in the gasping mouth. ‘Here’s your soddin’ money … I know your cab number,’ he was shouting, ‘I know your name!’ The driver dragged his face free, groping for the security lock button. Jimmy reached through, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and yanked his head back hard against the glass panel. ‘Try anythin’, Jimmy snarled, ‘and I swear before God you’re fuckin’ dead.’ Again he yanked the driver’s head back — clunk — against the panel, and once more to make sure the idea had sunk in. Scooping up the money-belts Jimmy slammed the door shut and shouted after Dillon, walking head forward along the hard shoulder with the look of a man who’s had it up to here. ‘Frank, where you going?’ Jimmy broke into a trot. He looked up to see the Jaguar coasting down to the roundabout, signalling to make a left. ‘Frank! He’s here!’ Dillon swung an angry face towards him, aiming along his pointing finger. ‘I’ve had enough for one night, Jimmy, an’ don’t try an’ tell me this is all legit! It reeks, it stinks. It’s got nothin’ to do with insurance an’ you know it! I just got into civvies, an’ I don’t intend going to jail for you — or that bastard Newman!’ He marched on, yelling over his shoulder, ‘I got a wife, I got kids… I don’t need it!’ ‘Frank, listen to me —’ ‘I’ll make it, Jimmy,’ Dillon shouted, marching on, his voice becoming fainter, echoing under the sodium-yellow streetlights. ‘You do whatever you want, just stay clear of me!’ Jimmy tried to shout, but nothing came out, his throat choked tight. The last thing he wanted was to alienate