Free East of the City by Grant Sutherland Page B

turn-off`.’
    Down the track I saw our van suddenly lurch forward, it veered right and disappeared behind the barn. Whoever was in the Porsche was too low to have seen anything; from there all they could see was the barn’s roof.
    ‘How many?’ Bill’s voice on the handset.
    ‘One.’ My throat was dry, I swallowed. ‘A green Porsche.’
    ‘Not the car. How many in it?’
    ‘I can’t see.’ The Porsche reversed a few feet, stopped, then swung hesitantly onto the track. ‘It’s coming your way.’
    Its back tyres had just left the tarmac, then it stopped again. The seconds ticked by. It just sat there. The engine burbled, the only sound apart from my strangled breathing. And then the engine died. ‘Well, is it coming or not?’ Bill barked.
    I snatched at the volume, now Bill raved at me in a whisper. ‘No,’ I said. ‘He’s turned off the engine; he’s just sitting there. I think there’s just one, the driver.’
    The car door opened, I felt my heart thud against my ribs. A man got out, his back turned to me; he looked down the track. He was holding something. I thought it was a newspaper, but then he tried to unfold it and I realized it was a map.
    ‘He’s got a map,’ I whispered to the handset. ‘I think he’s lost.’ I’m not sure if I really thought he was lost; maybe I was just hoping. It didn’t matter anyway, because right then he turned and rested his map on the car roof and I saw his face. ‘Jesus Christ,’ I said.
    He studied the map, then lifted his head, looking up the lane and down the track. I huddled over the handset.
    I said, ‘It’s Max.’
    ‘I know, a map. I heard you the first time. Listen——’
    ‘Not a map. Max. The guy in the Porsche, it’s Max.’
    There was a pause. ‘Max Ward?'
    'Yeah,’ I said. Then I released the speak-button and the handset squealed like a pig. Max spun round and looked straight up the ridge. I held myself stock-still, eyes fixed on a leaf on the ground.
    ‘Tyler?’ Max said. I glanced up. Max was edging along the car, looking straight up to where I was hidden.
    ‘He’s seen me,’ I said to the handset. ‘I’m going down to see what he wants.’ I got to my feet and looked over the hedge just as I heard Bill cry, ‘Don’t!’
    I froze. Max stared up at me. For a second I thought I’d made the most God-awful blunder, then Max dropped his head to one side. ‘Collier?’ His brow creased in bewilderment; he smiled uncertainly. ‘What the fuck,’ he said, ‘are you doing here?’

    The van trundled up a minute later. Bill didn’t wait for it to stop; he jumped out and made a bee-line for Max.
    ‘Stay put,’ he shouted. ‘You call this staying put? He gave Max a sharp poke in the chest. ‘This isn’t play school, is it? You think this is frigging play school?'
    The pair of them stood glaring at one another, two schoolyard bullies facing off. But Max wasn’t in Bill’s league, and he cracked. He started explaining why he’d come down, the same Just-Helping-Out story he’d practised on me while we were waiting for the van. But Bill wasn’t interested.
    ‘Go read your K and R policy. Your company’s ceded control of this, now it’s Mortlake’s responsibility. The Mortlake Group appointed me. You interfere and you void the whole thing. Mortlake won’t have to pay a penny and your old man’s out on his own. Am I getting through to you, Max?’ The possibility that what he’d done might void the K and R policy had taken the wind out of Max's sails. Bill swayed forward. ‘Is that clear?’
    ‘It’s clear, okay?’ Max gave me a lopsided grin, like saying, Can you believe this guy? Then he turned back to Bill. ‘What was in the barn?’
    ‘None of your business.’ Bill turned on his heel and stalked across to the van while Max stood there fuming. ‘Collier,’ Bill called back, ‘you coming?'
    I went over and climbed in, the van eased around the Porsche, and we started down the lane.
    The driver was smiling, there