Closure
Too Close

A hum of traffic rattled above, as the sun rose and cast an eerie, orange light over the E Type Jaguar, now parked under a motorway bridge on rugged wasteland.

Numb and nervous, Bethan stood in the dust, looking out over the distant vista, while Finn popped the boot of the car and dragged off the Takers’ metal body plates. He dumped them, along with the machine-gun in the boot. Pocketing a Wiper Bomb from the utility belt, he slammed the lid and glanced at the countdown window: 12:03:52.

Throwing a look at Bethan, Finn climbed back into the driver’s seat and clicked opened the glove compartment. Rooting around inside, he found a mobile phone. Taking it out, he flicked through the ‘Phone Directory’ and found only one contact: WICKER.

Bethan looked shattered. Her bloodshot eyes were raw from sobbing. Finn approached and threw her a rare look of compassion. She glanced at him and bowed her head, “Anna and me,” she said, trying not to cry, “We were going on holiday together. Spain...” Bethan’s voice cracked, “Two weeks in the sun.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at Finn, “You didn’t...”

“Who did?” She could see in his eyes that he needed to know.

“Jimmy Broadfoot. He... He...” Bethan was overcome. She failed to fight back her tears and broke, almost falling to the ground. Finn wrapped his arms around her and rested her head on his shoulder. She started sobbing and gripped him tightly. This was the first human contact he’d had since Jenna and it scared him. He was already too close. Stroking her hair, he looked off into the distance and closed his eyes, “It’s over.”

He was lying.

They walked along a quiet backstreet of terraced houses. Bethan was clearly shaken by the recent events and was still numb. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Only Finn didn’t have time on his side, “Tell me about Jimmy. Who is he?” She was too numb to take anything in. Finn grabbed her arm, “Bethan – please!”

“I never told you my name!” she said, worried. “How do you know my name?” She pulled away from him, “Who are you?”

“Was she screwing him? Were they friends? What’s their history?” Desperate, Finn snatched her arm and dragged her up to his face, “Tell me?”

“They, they used to go out together... years back! He was bad news back then!” Finn let go of her arm, sorry for grabbing her. She rubbed the burn and looked at him, “He just showed up out of the blue last night. Anna, she... She never got over him.”

“She has now.” Finn took a breath. “Do you know where Jimmy lives?”

“I think so,” she said. “Shit sticks.”

“Good. Show me.”

Bethan backed away, “What?”

“I need your help, Bethan – please.” He caught her eye, “I did save your life.” Bethan pondered for a second and saw he was desperate. She nodded, all be it reluctantly.

Finn thanked her with a rare smile and then took out his pistol. Stepping up to a parked car, he caved the door window in with the gun’s handle – smash! Popping the lock, he swung open the door and jumped behind the wheel. “Get in!”

Bethan hesitated, “I...”

“Please.”

She sighed and got into the car.

It was getting warm. The sun soaked away the damp of the previous night with a welcome breeze. A milk float trundled up the empty road, passing the car Finn had stolen. It was parked on a suburban street that had gone to the dogs.

Bethan was anxious and looked at Finn, who studied a nearby house. She glanced at his wedding band, at the eerie tattoo on his arm and then at the pistol poking out of the top of his jeans. “Are you going to kill him?”

Finn threw her a stern look and shook his head, “No.”

“Then what are we doing here?!”

He took a moment, the said, “Do you want me to kill him?” He looked at Bethan, who shot him a teary glance, then grabbing his arm. “Yes!”

Finn glanced down at her fingers wrapped around his arm, then back at her with a dirty glint in his eyes.

“What?” she snapped, defensively. “Don’t look at me like that.” She welled up, “That bastard murdered my friend. He was going to kill me! He’s a monster!”

Finn unhooked her fingers from his arm, “Then you kill him.” He looked again at her, “That’s not what I am.”

Bethan wiped her eyes, “Then what are you?”

“I don’t know.”

There was a silence.

Bethan turned away, sulking, “You killed those men last night!”

“They were trying to kill me!”

“Oh, and that makes it OK, then?”

“Yes!”

They both bellowed sighs and turned away from one another. Bethan picked at the plastic trim around the car door window and sighed, “Who were they?”

Finn rubbed his eyes, “Takers... a ‘hit squad’ with a badge.” He caught Bethan’s eye, “They want me dead.”

“I’m really starting to warm to those guys.” Finn couldn’t help but smirk at her sarcastic retort. It helped break the ice. “So why do they want you dead?”

“What I do – it’s illegal.”

“No shit!”

Finn smirked and looked at her, “They want me dead because I’m a danger – a risk.”

“A ‘risk’ to what?” Bethan waited, but Finn shied away. “What is it you do?”

“I witness things.”

“What things?”

Finn glanced at his wedding band for a second and then back at Bethan, “Nothing if I can’t...” He saw that she was pale. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Bethan?”

“It’s him...” Finn followed her line of sight and clocked Jimmy Broadfoot; a pale faced junkie with straggly hair and shabby clothes, walking out of his house and heading off up the street. “It’s Jimmy!”

Bethan was shaking. Finn sharply drew his pistol and offered it to her. She looked at it and then at him. “Take it,” he said, softly. She did. “Back soon.” Finn got out of the car, slammed the door and crossed the street, leaving Bethan alone with her demons and the semi-automatic.

Rotting black bin-bags and post scattered the grubby hallway.

Suddenly, the front door burst open and Finn stepped inside. Shutting the door, he picked up the stack of envelopes strewn on the welcome mat and flicked through them –

James Broadfoot

Flat 3

It was a squalid, flea-riddled hive. A used syringe, scorched spoon and crunched up ball of foil littered the table. The door cracked open and Finn entered. He looked around the room, clocked the syringe and picked it up. Things were beginning to piece together.

Back in the car, Bethan rested the pistol on her lap. She sobbed.

Finn’s heavy boot pressed against a loose floorboard. He crouched down and lifted it open, then rooted around inside the hole. Taking out a brown enveloped stuffed with used twenty pound notes and an old photograph of Jimmy hugging Anna, Finn sighed, then read the inscription written on the back of the Polaroid –

Anna and Me, 1998

Finn unclipped the Red Eye and snapped the ‘evidence’, then reached into the hole again. There was something cold and metal wedged inside. He tugged and it broke loose. It was a mobile phone. Keying through the phonebook menu, Finn found two contacts –

MY NUMBER

WICKER

“Evil is lazy.” Finn placed the mobile phone down on the table next to the syringe and walked out of the flat.

Bethan saw Finn heading back towards the car and sighed with relief. He climbed in behind the wheel and closed the door. Bethan wiped the wet from her faced, looked at Finn and handed back the pistol. “What were you doing in there?”

“Why would someone want to murder your friend?”

“What do you mean, ‘someone’?” She was confused. “Jimmy, he -”

“James Broadfoot murdered Anna, but he’s not the one that wanted her dead.”

Bethan was stunned.

Finn started the engine, “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

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