EIGHTEEN
You can tell a lot about a person by the way they carry themselves, often you can tell volumes about someone from their body language without them having to say a word. Bill Fraker lent against the car and watched as Charlie emerge from the airport with the yank. It had just started to snow again which made Charlie grimaced and held his hands above his head in a vain attempt to shield himself from the wintry shower. But the Yank, Mister Randall the guy’s name was, just tilted his face up and let the snow fall on it as they walked towards him. He even smiled seeing Charlie's reaction to the weather. He didn't seem to mind the cold at all.
The man looked at ease and obviously didn't feel the need to exert any kind if power trip over anyone as he was carrying his own suitcase. Fraker had made sure Charlie knew to offer to carry it but the man must have declined which was a good sign in Fraker's book. The last thing he needed was one power mad crazy hit man lording it over him, they were here to help not to serve. Although it could be because he kept his guns in the case, that option was much less comforting.
“Mister Randall, this is Bill, Bill Fraker.” Charlie said eyeing the sky in disgust as they reached the car.
The yank gave Fraker a warm smile and shook his hand. Firm grip but not too tight thought Fraker, still trying to weigh up the man. And none of that, covering your hand with the other in a subconscious show of authority bullshit you get sometimes.
“Pleased to meet you, Mister Fraker,” said Randall.
“Mister Fraker was my Father's name. Please, call me Bill.” Fraker nodded over to the back of the car and both men walked around to the boot which Fraker had already popped.
“Bill it is then,” Randall said and put his suitcase inside.
“Shall we?” Fraker closed the boot and opened the BMW's back door.
“Sounds good,” Randall gestured to the weather as the three men got in. Randall in the back, Fraker and Walker in the front.
“Say,” Randall continued as Fraker fired up the engine and glided away from the kerb. “Does it always snow up here?”
“Only when it's not raining,” Charlie said craning his neck around. “Welcome to Yorkshire. So,” he added, “where are you from in the states, Mister Randall?”
Fraker winced, as if a hit man was going to answer that, he despaired at that boy sometimes. They had, had the talk on the driver over here. Don't ask any idiotic questions, keep things polite but professional. The Yank is here to do a job, not to make friends. And don't, whatever you do, ask to see the guy’s gun! Well don't ask any idiot questions was already out of the window, only a matter of time before he asks about the gun or worse how many people he had 'whacked' this week.
“Please, drop the Mister,” Randall said skilfully avoiding the question much to Fraker's relief. “It's just plain Randall.”
Fraker pulled the car onto the A46 and headed towards Leeds. He hated driving at the best of times, especially with a VIP in the back, it always made him feel like he was taking his driving test all over again. But as the other alternative was letting Charlie drive, he had no choice. He flicked the window wipers on double speed, the weather was gradually taking a turn for the worse and he was thankful they were in the BMW, this thing could drive through the Arctic without so much as a skid.
They drove on in silence for a while, Fraker had the urge to turn on the radio to break the awkwardness, but the Yank seemed happy enough watching the world go by and Charlie was tapping his knees to some imaginary dance track in his head. Still, Fraker thought he should at least try to make conversation.
“We've booked a couple of rooms at the Queens hotel, in Leeds. It's a decent place but not too over the top. We thought it best to keep things low key.” Fraker said and eased passed a slow moving Volkswagen. He caught a glimpse of the Yank in the rear view mirror who nodded.
“Sounds like I'm in good hands,” he said. “Any word on the elusive Mister McCulloch yet?”
Fraker shook his head. “No so far. To be honest, we've got everyone concentrating on finding his Lawyer, a guy named Tommy Whitaker.”
The yank seemed to recognise the name. “Good,” he said, his tone laid back. “Whitaker's the key. He's weak, afraid. McCulloch will be too well hidden of now. But there's no rush, if you can find Tommy Whitaker, It's just a hop skip and a jump to McCulloch.”
“So,” said Charlie staring absently out of the windscreen. “McCulloch's in deep shit, eh?”
Fraker bit his bottom lip and almost punched Charlie in the side of the head, he made a mental note to save it for later when they were alone. He glanced in the rear view mirror again to see the Yank was actually smiling.
“Believe me, Charlie, he should wish he was in deep shit,” he said. “Words cannot express the trouble that man is in.”
“Y'know, his nick name is Lucky?” Charlie said with a snort.
“If he gets out of this one,” Randall said leaning back in his seat, “you can stick 'unbelievably' in front of that.”
The three of them laughed out loud. Fraker let out a relieved breath, this guy seemed all right, things might just turn out to be okay after all. A few days in a hotel, all expenses paid, he found himself starting to warm to the idea. But that was still tempered with the fact that this charming American was a hired killer and could quite easily get them all killed or banged up for life. Still, he mused, this was better than scaring the shit out of club owners at three in the morning with the kneecap routine.
“How was your flight?” Fraker asked.
“Mercifully short,” Randall replied. “Where did you way we were heading?”
“City called Leeds, don't know if you've heard of it.”
“Leeds, sure.” Answered Randall.
“Used to have one hell of a football team,” Fraker lamented, then added, “That's our football, not yours.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Next to Fraker, Charlie shuddered and had a sour look on his face. “I hate flying me,” he said with a frown.
Fraker's eyes shot skyward. “Oh, here we go. I don't think Randall is interested in your fear of flying, Charlie.”
“No, that's Okay,” Randall said leaning forwards. “Don't like planes, eh Charlie?”
Charlie's eyes narrowed as if he was recalling some past aviation horror, which Fraker knew was bollocks, this irrational fear of his was all classic Charlie Walker. Fraker returned his eyes to the road, they would soon be approaching the infamous 'Leeds loop' road system, which some sadistic city planner had put in place in a supposed attempt to help motorist negotiate around the city centre and get easy access to the motorways and city centre train station, where unfortunately the Queens hotel was slap bang next to. Fraker had often mused this same city planner had to be a dedicated car hating cyclist.
“Yeah, I hate flying me,” Charlie lamented. “I much prefer boats. I mean, you've never heard of a boat crashing into a mountain, have you?”
“This is true,” Randall had to admit.
“Yeah,” said Fraker for arguments sake. “But I've also never heard of a plane sinking, either.” He spotted a cyclist up a head and had to fight the urge not to knock him off, besides cycling in this weather was punishment enough, for now.
“This is also true,” Randall said.
“Yeah,” said Charlie. “Except for that film. Oh, what was it called?” He screwed his face up trying to remember the lost cinematic gem. “Oh yeah! It was one of those airport flicks from the seventies. Airport seventy eight, 'this time it sinks'.”
“Sinks or stinks?” Fraker asked.
“Have to say, I didn't catch that one,” Randall said.
“Nar, me neither,” Charlie said. “Well, I mean, you wouldn't would you? Not with title like that!”
Wow, thought Randall settling back in his seat, Ishrel would hate these two, which made him like them all the more. They were all the demon hated about humanity, something the demon would never have, but also he had to admit all Randall had lost. Though unlike the airport, Randall felt at ease around these guys and in just the space of a few short minutes he knew he'd made the right decision enlisting their help, apart from the practicalities of the situation, which made it a sound tactical move, sometimes mortal people could have their uses, they could be used, manipulated against one another. But also, as with Charlie Walker and Bill Fraker, they could be fun to be around in small numbers. And in the end wasn't being evil supposed to be fun? Somehow he'd forgotten that along the way.
He watched the back of Fraker's head as he shook it in obvious disbelief at his partner.
“You'll have to forgive Charlie, Randall,” he said. “He used to deliberately bang his head in the door when he was a child.”
Randall laughed out loud for the second time in five minutes, then realised he couldn't actually remember the last time he had laughed at all. Ishrel was never one for witty quips.
He nearly died (again), when Charlie said with an amazingly straight face, “Still do.”
Fraker cursed under his breath and the car swerved ever so slightly. “Sorry,” he said. “Fucking road system.”
“And nothing at all to do with your driving, William.” Charlie said. He easily dodged as Fraker made a half-hearted attempt to clip him around the head. “Jesus, both hands on the wheel! Your driving's bad enough as it is.” He turned and grinned at Randall.
“I take it this isn't your usual line of work. Babysitting Americans?” Randall asked.
“Yeah, sorry. I know where babbling a bit. Just a bit nervous that's all.” Fraker said. “To be honest, we don't usually get involved with this type of thing.” He cursed himself then added quickly. “Erm, not that we know what this type of thing is, you understand.” He glanced in the rear view mirror and was relieved to see Randall smiling back at him.
“Don't sweat it,” Randall said. “You'll go just fine. And believe me you two make a refreshing change to the type of company I normally keep. You're quite the double act.”
“You should catch our kneecap routine,” Charlie said proudly.
“But, for Christ sake, don't get him started on coffee!” Fraker said.
“I'll bare that in mind,” Randall said. “So, what do you do when you're not babysitting?”
Fraker thought for a moment. “I suppose you could say we're in collections.”
This made Randall smile. “That's funny, so am I.”