BOILER

Chapter 15

Charlie dropped some change on a counter. The girl at the register scooped it up and counted it. She nodded and nudged the register shut with her hip. Charlie went out with a coffee and a grin on his face. It had been a good day, Andrew Finch, once found, had told him about a garage owned by a friend of Marcus's and that Marcus had been known to stay there from time to time. On top of that, the people at the Chinese restaurant had recognized Marcus from the photo. Charlie was a happy man. The clouds came apart and left the moon alone, full, and brilliant in the black. He checked the time.

Better get a move on.

He went back to his car and drove to Mill Street.

He passed the garage on his way to a corner farther down the street. The garage sat apart from the buildings around it. The others didn't look any better. They were all squat and square things, sporting the abandoned look of a lot of steel-plate windows or just no windows at all. They were all made dirtier by the dark.

Charlie got out and walked back to the corner. Just looking at the building did something for his pulse. He watched the garage. It had space on either side for access to the rear and there were signs screwed to the wall instructing which was in and which was out. Any glass windows had been blacked out, but there seemed to be some light getting out where the paint was thinner. After looking for a long time, he couldn't make his mind up. He checked his watch again.

Where are they?

Charlie spoke with control about this garage and wondered what to do about it. The captain wanted it checked out, and Charlie said he would so long as he had support. The captain promised that support.

I bet he never requested it after the mess trying to pick up Marcus. Or maybe he did, and the message got lost, Charlie thought.

A distant light fell into the street and went away again with a door slam. Charlie went back to the car and took his coffee. He breathed hot air and was about to sit in again when an engine note hit him, the kind of low note patrol cars roll out ahead of them wherever they roam. Charlie waited for another to join in, but now the car was steering into the curb and there was still nothing coming to join it.

The older patrolman that got out was short and very broad. Thick-limbed. Almost no neck. Very broad. You could use him to trace a square out. Charlie had him around fifty and overweight. This older patrolman took off his hat and tossed it onto the car seat behind him. A younger man got out the other side. The older patrolman stepped up to Charlie.

'You the one in charge?' he asked.

'Yeah,' Charlie said, almost surprised to realise he was the one in charge.

'Okay.'

'Are there anymore of you coming? Cause I was expecting more.'

'No. We didn't have any more spare, and there was something mentioned about you guys already having us out or something. So, you get us.'

The patrolman turned and looked along the buildings. 'So, which is it?' he asked.

'The one with the in and out on, Charlie said. Counting both patrolmen again, like he might've missed one. He had been excited when he first got here. Now it was all a bit real, and confidence had curdled into something less friendly.

The younger man went around to the trunk and fetched out two shotguns. He came around saying, 'They're both loaded.'

Charlie asked the younger one his name.

'Terry,' the young man said.

'And you?' he asked the older.

'Jim.'