The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 by David Carter (best finance books of all time .txt) 📕

everything, and get them to ring immigration, I’ll be in the car, don’t be long,’ and he glanced at the odd couple one last time and shrugged his shoulders, and turned and limped back to the car and sat there and thought again about where Jessica might be. He had a bad feeling about things, for he imagined time was running out.

11.35. HECTOR AND GIBBONS drove into Minstrel Electronics’ car park. It would be the last call for two reasons, one: it was the last one on their list, and two: both the guys were very hungry.

11.40. JUN WOO TRIED to walk again, and couldn’t. The driver was away in the office organising the engine collection, but she guessed he would be back sometime soon. She knew she had to get away. Took her life in her hands, waited for a huge truck to rumble by, and began crawling across the road. There was a newly tarmacked pavement on the far side, and beyond that a grass verge, all dandelions, daisies, and dock leaves. A little further along it had been neatly cut, but right opposite where she was, they were all looking happy and terribly pleased with themselves in full bloom. She glanced left and right and began crawling across the road.

It was a scary thing, heaving herself across, imagining she could be squashed like a young rabbit at any moment. She’d just made it to the other side when another lorry, pulling a trailer with eight new hatchback cars aboard, careered by. She pulled herself onto the grass verge and turned round and tried to sit up. Frantically rubbed her knees, calves, thighs, anything to get the blood flowing, anything to get herself mobile again. It was a strange and unsettling feeling, possessing legs that didn’t work.

A small white van was incoming. The driver had seen her struggle across the road. He stopped and buzzed down the window and called out, ‘Are you all right, love?’

‘Yes! But I must get to the nearest town, it’s VERY URGENT!’

The driver saw she was Chinese, slim too, quite pretty, a bit rough, it had to be said, though he guessed she might scrub up okay. He’d certainly been with a hell of a lot worse.

‘I’m just going to pick up a couple of parts. Be back in five, you wait there!’ and he winked and accelerated and went into the plant.

He wasn’t “five” as he’d said, but he wasn’t that much longer, and by then Jun’s legs were almost remembering how to operate. The guy leant over to the passenger door and slipped it open. Jun took hold of the frame and eased herself inside and settled down into the seat.

He started the van and drove off, glanced across and said, ‘Are you okay?’

Jun nodded. ‘Bad attack of needles and pins, get it every now and again.’

‘I see,’ he said, when clearly he didn’t. ‘Where did you say you wanted?’

‘The nearest town.’

‘Don’t you know where you are?’

‘Yeah, I forget.’

Geez, he thought, what a weirdo, maybe she was on opium or summat. ‘It’s Ellesmere Port,’ he said, ‘be there in a tick.’

‘Yes, Ellesmere Port, I remember now,’ and the van followed the road up and over a railway bridge and she glimpsed a small passenger train scampering beneath, and they were going downhill and were entering an area of shops and shoppers and banks and money and life and freedom, and busyness and crowds, and safety.

‘This will do,’ she said.

‘I’ll pull into the car park,’ and he did, stopped the van and turned off the engine. Turned to her and said, ‘What are you doing tonight?’

She turned to look at him. He was hitting on her, she knew that, all lank, greasy hair, and blackheads, and black oil under his fingernails, and God alone knows what she must have looked and smelt like, and he was still hitting on her.

‘I busy tonight,’ and she turned to open the door.

‘At least I deserve one kiss,’ and he placed his greasy hand behind her head and tugged her towards him. She saw him coming... and poked him in the eye. Pretty hard too, always worked. Men do not like being poked in the eye.

‘Fucking hell!’ he yelled, as he rubbed his face.

Jun opened the door and fell out and hurried away as quickly as she was able, his voice following her away from the van: ‘There was no need for that! Fucking idiot!’

Jun hid amongst the lunchtime shoppers and headed across the square. She was looking for a phone box but public phone boxes are hard to find these days. The powers that be imagine that everyone has a powered up paid up mobile, but not everyone does, and Jun certainly didn’t. And while she was looking for a phone box she saw something that she did like the look of: a bank, a big, bright, and beautiful bank, with a name she recognised, and a grinning and alive ATM machine inserted into the red brick wall. Just what she needed. She went up the side alleyway, checked that no one was coming, and retrieved the credit card. Wiped it on her jeans, though she wasn’t sure that made any difference, went round to the ATM, slipped the card inside, and entered the PIN number she would never forget because it was her year of birth, plus five. Thought about how much cash to request. Thought she’d give it something to think about. Asked for five hundred British pounds, and that was approximately 6,500 Hong Kong Dollars.

Didn’t faze the machine for a second.

Spat out five hundred pounds in crisp new notes in double quick time.

Even thanked her for her custom, and kicked out a paper receipt.

Have a nice day!

Jun glanced around for you couldn’t be too careful with these things; ready cash in a foreign country, but there were no threatening persons there, no one hanging around, no one next in the queue, no one watching her, no one looking