Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ishmael
Ishmael saw the moment his pet slipped into his own head and fell out of the date fantasy. He spent the rest of the meal trying to coax him back into it, with limited success.
One step forward, two steps back. We’ll get there, eventually, even if I have to make us walk backwards to get there.
Paying the cheque, they left to go explore. The first Lucky Cat Kris saw waving in the window of a shop, and happy-go-lucky Kris was back. They poked in the shop, Kris choosing a Lucky Cat, Hello Panda biscuits, and a small cloisonné embossed trinket box with a lotus blossom design. Kris had excitedly carried them through the small shop space until he caught sight of the register. Then his face fell. Ishmael’s gaze moved from Kris’ dismayed expression to Bob, who understood immediately.
“Here, I’m the one with the bags,” he said, waving the hand carrying reusable bags stuffed one inside the other, “so let me take these.” He slid the bags up his arm before taking the plastic shopping basket from Kris’ hands.
Kris opened his mouth to start to say something, but Ishmael placed a finger over his mouth to shush him. “The company card with your name on it is in his phone’s wallet.”
Kris looked at him in surprise. “I have a company card?”
“As my PA, of course, you do,” Ishmael replied.
“But surely that’s for business expenses.”
“It’s for either. It’s set up so that your salary is deducted to pay the charges on a weekly basis.”
A pause, then, “And the rest of it?”
“Held in an account to be dispensed as it’s decided you need it.”
Resignation crossed Kris’ features. That look simply wouldn’t do.
“Come,” Ishmael bade him. “Let’s wait outside while he checks them out.” Ishmael chose his words carefully, trying to avoid any wording that would back up the notion that Kris was not footing the bill. “Would you like a picture of yourself in front of the shop?”
Kris nodded. The shop wasn’t busy, so he stood by the bottom step so that the doorway with its traditional hangings would be as visible as the shop window. Ishmael took the camera from it and handed it off to Josh who snapped the picture. Ishmael moved to the other side of the step, and Josh snapped another photo. That was all they had time for before Bob came out, one of the bags now full of goods.
“I had to do it in two transactions,” he explained, “as it went over the limit for just one.”
Josh handed the camera back, and they were on their way once more. Ishmael saved a visit to one of the supermarkets for last. It was there that he had to rein Kris in, reminding him the men would have to carry the bags back to the cars, which were not parked particularly close by. “Make a note of what you wanted to get but couldn’t. We can arrange an order to be picked up.”
“Seriously? I can just pick a whole load of groceries, and you’ll get them ordered and delivered?”
“Yes,, though I wouldn’t order too much.” Unspoken was the reminder that Kris was still learning to cook.
“Okay. I’ll just get some basics and then look at those cooking videos and see what I need.”
Ishmael felt a flood of happiness suffuse him at his pet’s easy obedience and complete understanding. The rest of the day’s outing passed in harmony. Ishmael reflected on how to stretch the mood between them so that it would last all evening. Bob pulled up with the car just as the peace was shattered.
“Get down!” he shouted at Kris as the unmistakable sound of gunfire split the air. Then it was a chaos of Josh fighting off attackers armed with batons, Kris’ screams joining in with that of the scattering crowd, and glimpses of the Tesla’s door half open with Bob’s body slumped against it, crimson staining his front and side. He blocked a man swinging for his own head and went to kick him. The sight of Kris dangling over a burly man’s shoulder, limp, before being stuffed into a car that pulled up gave him just enough pause to gift his opponent with an opening. Pain lanced down his shoulder as the wail of sirens screeched their approach.
“Scatter!” shouted one of their opponents. “It’s the Old Bill!”
Ishmael roared. Someone was going to pay for this. Whoever they were, they’d been well-prepared. This wasn’t an attack of opportunity. Someone had known of their plans, and as they’d only finalised them this morning, it meant he had a mole pretty high up his food chain.
“On your knees! Everyone on your knees, hands where we can see them!”
Ishmael grimaced as he did an officer asked.
“Sir, are you all right?” another officer him asked softly while her partner quickly checked Bob.
“Quick, over here!” the man shouted to the ambulance crew who arrived on the scene. “This one still has a pulse.”
Ishmael doubted Bob would have one for long, given his injuries.
