Part 30 (1/2)
Dripping-Tears Tat and five of his mates straightened, eyes widening. Only Rotating-Swastika Guy failed to react, immersed in mouthing off to the lad behind the till. But the others were frozen, their brains processing unconscious alarms, primal senses re-evaluating the violent potential here.
One of them grabbed hold of Rotating-Swastika and yanked him back.
”Come on, you d.i.c.k.”
Those nearest the door were already leaving.
”What?”
”Police officer, come on.”
Then they filed out, and were gone.
Good.
Except that part of him thought the opposite, that it was an aching shame they had denied him the opportunity of the dance, to let loose the reptile inside, the lizard-brain that fought with logic, and the primate layer that knew the joy of blood because a smile and a scream are predator's expressions, the baring of teeth and the spurting ecstasy of ripping and rending, hitting and twisting, smas.h.i.+ng knee-joints, slamming skulls into red oblivion.
He wanted to tear them apart.
[ TWENTY ].
The guy behind the till was called Gopan. After thanking Josh, he called out all his family so they could give thanks, too. Three people came out from the kitchen: a large man called Uncle Rajesh, skinny brother Sanjeev, and the tired girl who served the food: Gopan's sister, Mina.
”You're all welcome,” said Josh. ”And look, you've already got spyb.a.l.l.s. Why don't you get two more cams, and rearrange them there and there.”
”Ah.” Sanjeev's eyes were bright as he nodded, understanding the geometry. ”Very good idea.”
”Add an alarm that you can trigger,” Josh pointed at Gopan's phone. ”Then buy a monthly call-out plan from one of the local security firms. Except check at the police station before you deal with anyone.”
”Will you be there?” asked Gopan.
”I'm not a police officer. They were mistaken.”
”Ah. But you were looking for someone.”
”I'm working for the boy's father, who's worried.”
”Oh. Would you show us the picture again?”
Josh brought up Richard's image, and turned the phone to Gopan. This time Gopan frowned for a longtime before shaking his head.
”I'm really sorry. Uncle Rajesh?”
The big man took a look. ”No, sorry.”Sanjeev had been peering at it over the others' shoulders. ”I don't think so.”
But Mina gave a tilting nod.
”You recognise him?” said Josh.
”With Opal.” Her voice was less dull than before. ”Walking with Opal.”
”Who's?”
”Local girl,” said Sanjeev. ”Comes here sometimes, not often. Chats with Mina.”
”When did you last see Opal?”
”Days ago.” Mina looked down at the floor. ”A few days.”
”You know where she lives? Or which school she goes to?”
Mina shook her head.
”Sanjeev?” asked Josh. ”Any ideas?”
”Sorry.”
”That's OK. I've got a name. You probably don't know her surname?”
”Afraid not.”
”OK. Thanks, everyone.”
”Thank you!”
Smiles and nods and waves carried him to the door. He went out onto the street grinning, remembering to check for signs of the gang waiting in ambush, but seeing only a clear ordinary street, safe to walk along. After some eight or ten paces, he stopped, remembering Viv at the shelter, and what she had said just a few minutes back: ”The lad might be friendly with some gekrunners.”
He turned and went back in. The family were still standing among the tables, discussing what had happened.
”Mina, I don't suppose this Opal is a gekrunner, is she?”
Mina's smile was big as she nodded.
”Jumps,” she said. ”Somersaults and things. She's brilliant.”
”So are you,” Josh told her. ”So are you.”
Uncle Rajesh hugged her, and her grin reminded Josh of Christmas and getting just the present you wanted, and had thought you would never have.
Josh waved a salute and left.
Richard looked up from the floor, sponge in hand, as Opal entered the shop, unhitching a backpack from her shoulder.