Vanished by James Delargy (free novel 24 TXT) 📕

said Ian, hoisting a canvas bag over his shoulder.

‘Leaving us with him?’ said Mike.

‘Don’t react.’

‘He didn’t listen to anything you said,’ said Stevie.

‘I’ll insist tonight,’ said Ian, ‘but I’ve lined up another deal.’

‘How will you insist?’ asked Mike.

‘You won’t be seeing him on a bike for a while,’ said Ian.

There was an undercurrent of malice that suggested Mike ask no questions. That was fine. The only thing he would insist was that Ian told him everything. Every bone-crunching detail. But not everyone was happy with this.

‘You aren’t going to run, are you?’ asked Stevie.

It was something Mike hadn’t considered, too eager to know what might befall Lorcan to think through the possibilities. This was what Stevie had brought to the lab as well, thoroughness and application.

‘No,’ said Ian.

‘If you shaft us…’ said Mike.

‘There’s one shaft you need to keep your mind on and it’s that one,’ said Ian, pointing to the tunnel. ‘You’ve both seen the money. One security box each. One key each. Split evenly. Plus as usual, I’m selling half there and keeping half here.’

This had been the plan from the start. Keep half behind in Kallayee. Both as security in case Ian was arrested and as a commodity they could take should they need to leave in a hurry. They each had a burner phone too just in case.

‘Let’s see,’ said Mike, spitting his used gum into a wrapper.

‘You don’t trust me?’

He tilted his head, then followed Stevie and Ian to the disused coal bunker, attached to the side of the house but minus the original sloping roof. Lifting up the board he shone the torch inside.

‘Happy?’ said Ian, dropping the board hurriedly, as Lorcan sped past again.

From the surly expressions it was obvious that no one was happy but it was good to know that should Ian unexpectedly decide enough was enough, their safety net was within reach.

Making his way to the ute Ian threw the canvas bag into the cab. Past the crossroads Mike watched as Naiyana got ready to leave at the same time. He and Stevie would be alone with Lorcan and his son for a while. He couldn’t hold back the grin.

102

Mike Andrews

As they watched the two vehicles leave, he looked at Stevie.

Neither wanted to go back down the tunnel yet. There was a wall to pick and rubble to clear as well as installing netting above their heads to protect both them and the equipment from rockfalls, something that remained just as terrifying now as it did the first time he had been caught in one.

Lorcan passed again accompanied by the ripping buzz of an engine struggling in the heat and dust to escort its crazed cowboy through town.

‘Just one dig,’ said Mike, smearing the sweat from his brow as he clacked the gum. ‘One dig to keep me going.’

Rather than the instant dismissal he was expecting, Stevie seemed to be considering it. Mike wanted to goad him about the charity. Some petty gratification.

‘One dig?’ said Stevie, doubt etched on his face.

Mike smiled, despite himself. One dig. Or maybe two. He might struggle to hold himself back.

‘Some revenge for breaking our equipment.’

Stevie shook his head. ‘Leave it. We’ll make the money back, Mikey. The man has nothing but a broken house and broken dreams.’

It was delivered without glee, the honest truth from an honest friend. It was a persuasive argument. He shouldn’t lower himself to Lorcan’s level. Even if it would have felt good.

‘Okay, let’s get back to it,’ said Mike with a smile, replacing the gum in his mouth with a new piece.

Two hours later and the rubble had been cleared, a couple of new stanchions in place, the netting affixed and some rock cracked by hand that had a few slim veins of gold striated through it. Maybe a couple of hundred once they put it through the machines. A tough but profitable couple of hours.

They made for the light. The sun was on the way down for the day. Nearly time to close up shop and head into Wisbech for a mini blowout.

The first thing that he noticed was the quiet. At first the endless silence of Kallayee had annoyed him but after suffering through the ear-splitting drone of the machines it was divine. But silence wasn’t what he had been expecting this evening.

Stevie voiced his thoughts.

‘You think he ran out of fuel?’

‘Hopefully he crashed,’ said Mike, smiling at the image. Insult and injury to Lorcan Maguire was the only thing that seemed to motivate him at present.

He sauntered out into the fading sun to stretch. The deep breath filled his lungs with air. And caught there. He spied the stationary quad. Parked beside the coal bunker.

103

Mike Andrews

He broke into a run, passing a confused Stevie.

‘The bunker,’ he shouted.

Stevie overtook him before they reached the coal bunker. Lorcan was there, a canvas bag on the ground beside him.

‘Stop!’ shouted Stevie as if calling out to a common thief.

‘I’m going to kick the living shit out of you,’ yelled Mike. And he would. Two against one. Even Ian couldn’t complain about that once they told him what Lorcan had been attempting.

Then the rifle appeared from the bag.

Mike stopped as suddenly as he could, skidding in the dirt, all thoughts of attacking Lorcan as scattered as his nerves. The penknife in his pocket would be useless against a rifle. He glanced at Stevie. His friend sported the same frozen look of fear. A look that betrayed that he didn’t know what to do. Their own rifle was in the tunnel, stashed by the steps. Too far away to be of any use.

‘Put the gun down, Lorcan,’ said Stevie, slowly.

There was an unsettling smile on Lorcan’s face that Mike was trying to read. It looked demented. He hoped it wasn’t.

‘Kick the living shit out of me, eh?’ he said, swinging the bag onto his shoulder and grabbing the rifle in two hands.

Mike found that he had nothing to say. Despite his bravado,