He looked at her, a mixture of confusion and disappointment, and turned to signal to whoever was controlling the computer program to bring it to a premature halt. As soon as the last hologram had vanished, he turned to Flick but she was already hurrying towards the exit.
Chapter 77
CHARLIE, MANCHESTER
Charlie glanced nervously at the app for the taxi he’d ordered Rosemary. She was now only five minutes away. Then he looked back towards the staff behind the bar of the pub. Their attention was still fixed on him but he had no idea why. It made him uncomfortable.
He hesitated, torn between what he wanted to do and what he should do as a Minder. When images of Bruno and Sinéad’s bodies came to mind it forced him into making a decision.I need to get out of here, he thought.
Charlie grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and, trying to appear as casual as possible, made his way to the door without turning around. It was only when he heard someone shouting ‘Hey!’ followed by the sound of pounding feet that he was certain he was in trouble.
Outside, he broke into a run. Weaving through traffic, he crossed Mosley Street and made his way towards Booth Street. It wasn’t a direct route, but it would take him towards the Arndale Centre, a once popular but now neglected shopping area. It was still enough of a draw for him to find safety in numbers as he worked out what the hell was happening.Perhaps you over-reacted, perhaps the staff weren’t looking at you?he asked himself. But Charlie wastrained to read people and the staff had been staring at him for a reason.
He turned to look behind him; relieved to see that he’d lost whoever had been trailing him from the bar. He slowed his pace and removed his phone from his pocket, logging back on to the taxi app. Rosemary’s cab was about to pull up outside the pub. His heart wrenched as he thought about her waiting alone for him inside. Perhaps he could return and try and catch her attention through the window from the other side of the street? Then he remembered he’d reserved their table specifically because it wasn’t in view from the outside.
Instead, he began typing her an email on his burner phone, explaining that he’d been delayed and asking her to wait for him. It might buy him time to find an alternative location for them to meet. In his haste, he wasn’t watching where he was going and collided with someone. It knocked Charlie’s device out of his hands and to the floor, shattering the screen. He picked it up, frantically jabbing at buttons but it was inoperable.
He turned to the man who had broken it and who was now walking away with two others. ‘Fucking idiot!’ said Charlie. ‘Look what you’ve done.’
The man stopped and also turned. ‘You walked into me, sunshine,’ he replied, then cocked his head and turned to his friend. ‘Hey, it’s him, isn’t it?’ He pointed to something behind Charlie.
‘Yeah, for real!’ one of the man’s friends said. ‘It’s the terrorist.’
Charlie followed their gaze, and saw a giant moving billboard attached to a building and broadcasting rolling news. His face was plastered across it, along with a caption.
WANTED: Charlie Nicolls – Key member of terrorist cell planning atrocities throughout Britain.
Government reward for live capture: £500,000. If located, contact police immediately.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ Charlie gasped, just as three men’s hands restrained him. Charlie immediately fought back, twisting and squirming his way from their hold. They were no match for his combat skills. He had been taught to fight quick and dirty and it took just a few carefully placed punches, kicks and headbutts before he was once again running hell for leather through Manchester’s streets.
He pushed his way through the public as he continued towards Arndale, sending some sprawling to the ground as others cursed at him. Now it appeared that every moving billboard in the city was filled with larger-than-life images of his face and the bounty attached to his capture. He understood why, back in the pub, everyone’s electronic devices had sounded at once. It was a nationwide alert for him.
‘Stop that fella!’ shouted a voice from behind. He turned to see that the three men he’d attacked were now giving chase. ‘He’s the terrorist!’
Charlie’s pulse pounded in his ears as he ran from street to street, alternating between busy and quieter roads he knew off by heart. It was too risky to continue to Arndale so he made his way to a deserted warehouse overlooking Piccadilly Gardens that he knew was only frequented by drug users and alcoholics.
He pushed his way through a graffiti-stained door until he was inside, and settled in a quiet, darkened corner, fighting to get his breath back. Between his own gasps, he heard the drunken arguments of some and the snores of others sleeping it off. He could make out very little through tiny gaps in the wooden planks of the boarded-up windows. With no phone display, Charlie asked his OS to compose an email but it didn’t answer him.
However, Charlie’s phone pinged, which meant he’d received an email, and Rosemary was the only one with his address. He punched the planks in frustration until his knuckles grazed.
His thoughts turned to the billboards. Who was trying to expose him? If it was the government, its methods went against protocol. Karczewski had warned him that if he failed to spot or ignored seven recall messages, he would be treated as an enemy of the state but it would be dealt with privately. It didn’t make sense. The recall was a hoax and these billboards were offering a reward for his capture alive.
Before he had the opportunity to give it more thought, his phone began ringing. Charlie held it in his palm, unable to read the number. He had no choice but to press the accept button on the side of the device.
‘Charlie,’ a female voice began. He didn’t reply. ‘Remain where you are and we will be with you in two minutes.’
‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Dr Sadie Mann, Director of Psychiatric Evaluations. I worked with Karczewski.’
‘Why have you left me so exposed?’ he seethed. ‘My fucking face is everywhere.’
‘It was the only way to bring you into the open. We are sending someone to pick you up.’
‘Why the hell should I believe you? Two of the other Minders have been murdered, haven’t they?’
‘We are aware of that. We need to bring you back in and this was the only way. You are currently at a disused building in Parker Street, correct?’
