Underlife by Robert Finn (different e readers txt) 📕

He looked at her face to see if she’d understood him. Her eyes were wide and questioning — demanding that he say more. He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “I don’t know much about them, but they’re crooks. The uniforms… it’s all fake.” He was still keeping his voice low, though Sebastian had yet to give any sign he was aware of them.

A few metres away, Warren had halted. He was explaining the situation to Kieran: “Think about how much harm I could have done to you by now if I’d wanted to, but you haven’t got a scratch on you. That’s because I want you to talk to us, tell us who you’ve been working with. And for that, I want you in one piece. Isn’t that what you want too?” His hands were spread in a gesture that was probably intended to be non-threatening and patient. But Warren’s expression altogether spoiled the effect. If he’d had his face chromed it couldn’t have displayed less warmth.

“You’re really making this difficult,” he said and it seemed like a little sarcasm might be creeping into his tone. He paused for a moment to let Kieran respond to his offer. Then he added, “Imagine all the ways this could end. There’s only one version in which you’re still breathing. And it’s the one where you cooperate with me.”

His words seemed to be getting to Kieran, who was really sweating now, and shifting awkwardly. He took a faltering step towards Warren, his gun lowering slightly, unsure, as though his determination was wavering. It almost looked like he was giving up.

On the other hand, Clipper could see the tension in Kieran’s body. Even the arm that had dropped slightly was so taut it trembled. If his tendons had been any tighter Clipper reckoned you’d be able to play a tune on them. As it was, he could almost hear Kieran’s body humming with tension. He couldn’t decide whether the man was about to give up or hurl himself physically at Warren.

Whether Warren was fooled or not by the show of uncertainty, Clipper couldn’t say, but a moment later the pretence was over. Having shuffled forwards a little, Kieran twisted around and fired two rapid shots into the door lock behind him. Then he snapped back towards Warren, keeping the gun trained on him, while using his other hand to snatch his bag from the seat beside him. Gun outstretched, he shoved himself backwards, bursting through the door behind and nearly toppling into the gloom of the deserted rear cab of the train.

Clipper was fairly sure you didn’t need to shoot those cab doors open; there was a release-lever that passengers could use in an emergency; but he had to admit, the gun was quicker. Plus, if you already had a weapon in your hand in a situation like this, your survival instincts probably dictated that you didn’t put it down while you fiddled with a door lock.

Kieran took two quick and stumbling steps backwards into the rear cab, but instead of going after him, Warren hesitated for a moment and Clipper found himself wondering about that. He was getting the distinct impression that whatever protected Warren and Sebastian from harm, it was at its least effective when they were moving. But then as soon as Kieran had disappeared into the dark of the cab, Warren dashed forwards to close with him.

Kieran must have expected this because simultaneously his arm came halfway up, lifting up out of the darkness of the rear cab, while the rest of him remained in shadow. The gun fired again, this time angled straight down at Warren’s feet. The outstretched arm vanished into the darkness as Warren cried out and snatched his right foot away, slipping and falling back across the seats behind him. It was an ugly fall, with Warren’s lower back coming down hard on the solid jutting edge of an armrest. His attempts to break his fall tipped him sideways almost headfirst onto the vinyl-coated floor of the train. He lay there for a moment hardly moving.

Clipper craned his head and saw a splatter of blood on the floor and a chunk punched out of Warren’s right boot. Clipper didn’t know how serious getting shot in the foot was in the relative scheme of things, but even as he watched, Warren was scrambling to right himself, so it couldn’t have been too bad. For his part, though, Clipper found the violence of it shocking. He was getting the definite impression that you needed to see a lot more than two people get shot in front of your eyes before it became something you could manage to be casual about.

‘Shock’ captured the feeling perfectly; for a moment you just couldn’t believe it had happened. But while most of Clipper’s brain was recoiling from the noise of gunfire and the terror of being trapped in a confined space watching people on either side of him get shot, another more analytical part of his mind was trying to learn something useful from what he’d seen.

For a second Clipper wondered if he was going to be able to think his way out of this situation: figure out what Warren’s limitations were, what his agenda was, and use that knowledge to time a rapid exit. If he was really lucky Warren and Kieran would still be trying to kill each other when the train reached the next station and then he could just grab Rachel by the arm and run like hell.

He glanced at over at her, wondering if she was doing the same thing, trying to think this all through. It was hard to tell. She looked frightened — but then maybe he did too — but she wasn’t looking panicked. He thought about how she’d moved to his side after Sebastian was hit. She’d been shaken, but she’d had it under control. He wouldn’t be surprised if her mind was working just as hard as his. Which gave him a fair bit of comfort because she was very likely a lot smarter than he was. If he was really honest with himself, thinking his way out of a situation was not something he’d ever shown much talent for, and these weren’t exactly the ideal circumstances for him to perfect the skill. His friend Gary had always been the brains of the operation. He’d done his best to turn Clipper into a thinker, but it had been an uphill struggle for both of them. Even so, if Gary were here, he’d be urging Clipper to think: to work out ahead of time what the important moments were so that when they happened he’d be ready.

That, and research; Gary had always been very big on research. Which was why Clipper found his gaze flicking down to the pool of blood by his feet. He was staring at its colour. It was that familiar shade of red. Though it was maybe a little brighter and more orangey as it welled from Sebastian’s neck, but Rachel had said that blood was ‘arterial’ — Clipper had no idea what that meant, unless it was something to do with arteries — but she seemed to recognise the look of it. Besides, you couldn’t really judge under these lights. The point was that so far as he could tell, Sebastian, and the blood he was losing such a lot of, were both human. He felt stupid for even questioning it, but what else was he to think?

But the twitching, delirious figure in front of him was bleeding what looked like real blood from what seemed like an honest-to-god bullet hole in his neck. He was pretty obviously human and he was pretty obviously dying, unless he got some proper medical attention. And now Warren had been hurt too. So whatever else Sebastian and Warren were, they were also men. It was one simple and solid fact in an otherwise insane situation and it made Clipper feel just a tiny bit better.

That feeling of reassurance grew a little stronger as he watched the superman who was probably responsible for his best and only friend Gary’s death slipping in a patch of his own blood as he tried to scramble back to his feet.

A moment later, Warren had hauled himself upright, clutching a handrail with one muscular arm while he held his perforated foot above the floor and swore. Under other circumstances it might have been gruesomely funny, but not here and now. Meanwhile Kieran had completely disappeared into the gloom of the empty rear cab. Peering towards the open door, Clipper could see part of a dark window, and beyond, the occasional tunnel light receding slowly down the track. Kieran was moving about in there, but Clipper couldn’t see what he was doing. Panicking, most likely.

Warren took a few deep breaths, steadied himself against the lurching of the train, and put his weight on his damaged foot. The bleeding seemed to have stopped straightaway, though when he took his first step he quickly took a second one to get his good foot back under him. From the location of the hole, the bullet must have gone right through the middle of his boot and out through the sole. No wonder it was a little tender.

Warren had reached the open door of the rear cab and grabbed hold of the frame for support. Then he paused for a moment and called out ahead of him, “You’re really not making this easy, Kieran. You’re not even trying to keep on my good side, are you?” Then he winced and bent to fiddle with his boot, yanking at the laces.

By Clipper’s side, Rachel moved closer and whispered in his ear, “So do you have any idea what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t really know,” Clipper whispered back. “But I mean obviously that bloke, Kieran, has crossed these people somehow. And you’ve seen they… they seem to have some sort of… power.” He wasn’t sure he was contributing anything so he stopped talking for a moment while he collected his thoughts. Then he tried again. “I’ve seen that one,” he dropped his voice even further and indicated Warren, “before. I reckon he killed a friend of mine. And he wasn’t a copper then; he was bent as a nine-bob note.”

“I’ve got no idea what that means,” Rachel said coldly. Then a minute later she asked suspiciously, “So who are you?”

“No one,” Clipper said, being defensive. His whisper was more of a hiss: “I just nick things. So did my mate, Gary. Then he did some work for that guy, who called himself Warren. And right after that, my mate disappeared. I don’t know any more than that. Except I saw Warren do that trick once before, where it’s like he’s indestructible. Though it obviously doesn’t work the whole time. I also saw him knock someone down without touching them.”

Rachel was taking this in without commenting. He reckoned the fact she’d seen Warren shot point-blank and not get hurt must be lending a bit of credibility to his ridiculous-sounding story.

He went on, “Warren knows he knows me, but he can’t remember where from. I really only saw him once, just before Gary went missing.” He saw Rachel’s look become calculating and said, “Honestly, I don’t think I’m anything to do with this. It’s just a coincidence I’m here. I swear.”

Rachel considered his words, but said nothing. They were silent for a moment, watching Warren wrestle with his boot before going in to tackle Kieran. Clipper spoke to Rachel again, “Look, I reckon now’s your chance. Get to the door back there while he’s busy.”

She hesitated a moment and then shook her head. “He’d see me. And… leaving you on your own doesn’t seem the right thing to do.”