“Yeah. Thanks.”
The driver’s eyes widen slightly as he realises that was the answer I sought. Probably calculating whether that amounts to a breach of trust and if so, what the penalty is.
Bad, I would suggest as a starting point. Bad tilting towards downright nasty.
I shift on the seat, still feeling the imprint of Andrej’s fingers. Acid rises in my throat, and I swallow it back, raising my hand to my throat to poke and prod at the damage.
Nothing unsurvivable. At least, not so far.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Oh, um,” the driver visibly swallows, and his eyes jerk away from the mirror then back again. “Did you want to go somewhere in particular?”
“Where did Andrej tell you to take me?”
His eyes widen. It’s reassuring that I’m not the only one terrified of his boss. “He didn’t. Just… away?”
I try the handle, deciding that’s enough driving for one day, but it’s locked.
“Can you let me out here, please?”
“No.”
“Why not? If you’re not taking me anywhere in particular, then what’s wrong with here?”
He hums under his breath, then the car jerks forward as the lights change.
I take my shoe off, belatedly realising that the stiletto earned its name for a reason. Although I doubt it’s going to reach the top ten of assaultive crime weapons, it’s better than an open-handed slap, which was next down on my list.
“I really don’t want to hit you with this,” I say with a note of apology. “The last time I hit someone with an item of footwear, it severed his jugular and he’s now repurposed as landfill. That’d be a terrible way to end, wouldn’t it Brian?”
As his frown deepens, I add, “I know your name’s probably not Brian, but I have to call you something and that’s an innocuous enough name, don’t you think?” When he doesn’t respond, I try, “Or you could tell me your name and I’ll call you by it. It’s not like we’re going to meet again, at least I hope not, so there’s no harm.”
“I’m calling my boss. He won’t want you—”
“What he won’t want is you calling him to ask where to drop me when the explicit instruction he gave was to get me out of a certain restaurant, which you’ve amply done.”
“It’s raining.”
“Yes, it is.”
Brian licks his lips and frowns; at the road ahead, at the nearest street sign, finally back at me. I lean forward, trying for a gracious smile but it’s hard to rig on short notice, given my recent face remodelling.
“Why don’t you drop me at the next corner and if you’re questioned, just say I escaped?”
“No!” Now his eyes are wide with alarm and staring so fixedly into the mirror that I worry he’s forgotten there’s a road at all.
“Fine. What’syourplan, then?”
He licks his lips again rather than answering but also seems to remember that he’s driving along at high speed and turns his attention towards not getting us both killed. While he’s occupied doing that, I smash my heel into the side window.
It has disappointingly little effect.
“You know, Brian. This window might be reinforced but I don’t think you are. What’s the best possible outcome you can think of if I smash this into the side of your face while you’re driving at fifty k’s an hour?”
“I need to—”
“You need to let me out. Your boss wants me gone. Unless he specifically told you to kill me, then this is as good a place as any for me to do just that.”
