Free Snakes & Ladders by Sean Slater Page B

because I’m in need here, Brian. Can you do a search for me – completely off the record?’
    ‘Any time. You just give me the plate number.’
    The words were music to Striker’s ears. Normally, the Insurance Corporation of British Columbia was sticky when it came to the private information of their clients, and unless the circumstance was labelled Life or Death , any help from the corporation required a warrant.
    No exceptions ever.
    Having a contact like Brian Greene made all the difference in the world.
    ‘Juliet for the first letter,’ Striker said. ‘Next two letters unknown. First number is unknown. Last two are seven and nine.’
    ‘In that order?’
    ‘I think so.’
    Striker heard the clicking sounds of Brian’s keyboard, then a moment of silence before the man responded with a whistle.
    ‘That’s never good,’ Striker said.
    ‘Ten thousand hits, man. Got any other details to narrow it down a bit?’
    ‘You bet. It’s a Beamer. An X5.’
    A few more clicks.
    Brian said, ‘Okay. One hundred and thirteen hits.’
    Striker thought it over. ‘Try Beamers that are less than three years old.’
    A few more clicks, then: ‘Good one. You’re down to twenty.’
    ‘Black in colour.’
    Brian punched the detail into his keyboard, then let out a laugh. ‘Okay, now we have five.’
    ‘Put the location of the registered owner as Vancouver only.’
    ‘Now you got three.’
    Striker smiled. ‘Give them to me.’
    Brian did.
    Striker wrote the plate numbers down in his notebook, then asked for the details of each one – the name of the registered owner, the address listed, and so forth. When Brian Greene gave him the details of the third and last plate, one detail in particular caught Striker’s attention and a smile broke the corners of his mouth.
    ‘Interesting,’ he said.

Sixteen
    At first the water of the well stung his skin like a cold fire. But soon the sting went away and was replaced by a swelling numbness that started in his fingers and toes. It then inched its way slowly throughout the rest of his body like long probing tendrils.
    The Adder swam in place, desperately trying to keep his lips above the water. It was a difficult task. The Doctor had laid planks across the top of the well and, as a result, there was less than a few inches of space between the top of the splashing water and wet hard planks above.
    The darkness made everything worse. All the Adder could see was a mass of blackness; it was everywhere he looked. And when he reached out for the sides of the well in an effort to hold himself above the water, the only thing his fingers touched was slime-coated stone.
    Cold and hard and slippery.
    Many times already, he had fatigued. Taken in a quick deep breath. And let his body sink beneath the top of the water into the depths below. Never once had his naked feet touched the bottom. No matter how far down he dropped – so low he feared he would never reach the top again – he never touched the bottom.
    In some ways that was good. After all, what was down there? An end? Or would currents suck him away to other underground chasms? And was there something down there? Something alive ?
    That thought terrified him. More than once, something had brushed his leg – a fast and fleeting sensation. But one he was certain of.
    Something was in the well with him; he just didn’t know what. After that first touch, the Adder had struggled to stay near the top, swimming so hard the flesh of his lips tore as they raked against the rough wooden surface of the planks above.
    A whimper escaped him, for he knew he was failing now. His body was too numb. His limbs too tired. They were giving out on him. And despite the fear he felt, despite the anxiety of what lay below, a part of him rejoiced in the suffering.
    For this was how William must have felt.
    The Doctor was right about that; this was what he deserved. A fated and fitting punishment. For he had failed. And all because of the cop. The big