Consent (The Loan Shark Duet 2)

A block from my old flat, the driver stops. “This is as far as I go.” He motions at the street ahead. “That’s hijackers’ paradise.”

I pay the extortionate amount and usher Charlie out before the driver can pose the questions I see in his eyes. The minute we’re on the pavement, he speeds off, happy to get out of here.

“Va–Val.” Charlie kicks in his heels as I take his arm. “This is ho–home.”

“Not anymore.” I give him a bright smile. “This is only where our holiday starts.”

I have precious little time. It’s a matter of hours, minutes maybe, before Gabriel discovers me gone and puts a death warrant out for our lives. He’ll track my phone and be on our tail faster than I can say disappear, but if I want Charlie to follow hassle-free, I have to make him happy.

We walk one block to a corner café where I buy Charlie a King Cone ice cream. While he sits down on the pavement to eat it, I call Jerry. The number rings and rings, and finally disconnects without going onto voicemail.

Darn it. Jerry is my only hope. I try the special number he gave me when he was still supposedly watching over Charlie. It’s a number only me and some of his crime buddies have.

This time, he picks up with a hesitant, “Val?”

There’s no time to beat around the bush. “I need a car.”

“What?”

“A car, Jerry. Now.”

“To buy?”

“Would I have called a car thief if I wanted to buy a car?”

He utters his refusal meekly. “I can’t do it. What’s going on? This isn’t like you.”

I’ve always condemned his shady business, but now isn’t the time for my moral values to induce guilt. “After what you did to us, you owe me, damn you.”

There’s dejection in his voice. “Val…”

“Do you want to know what Gabriel Louw did to me because of your ignorant stupidity?”

“Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck. You’re running.” His voice trembles. “You’re running away from The Breaker.”

“If he finds me, I’m dead. So is Charlie.” And the baby I’m carrying. “Please, Jerry. You got us into this mess. Help me get out.”

There’s a long silence. I can almost feel the gears turn in his head. Just when I think he’s going to hang up, he says, “Where are you?”

“Your place.”

“Give me an hour.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Goddamn, Val.” He takes a breath, as if to calm himself. “Wait at the side of the building.”

“Thank you. You better show up. When I hang up, we can’t speak on this phone again.”

He knows what I mean. I have to destroy the phone if I don’t want Gabriel to track me.

“I’ll be there.” The line goes dead with a click.

Charlie has finished his ice cream. I make him clean his hands on a tissue and throw the wrapper in the trashcan so I can go around the corner and crush the phone under my heel. There are too many tiny parts to discern a tracker, not that I know what to look for, so I stamp on everything again, just to be sure, and dump the lot in the trashcan.

“Ready for our adventure?” I take Charlie’s hand. “Let’s go get our wheels.”

We hide in an alcove from where I can watch the road. Thankfully, we haven’t crossed any thugs, but they’ll soon crawl out of their holes with the setting of the sun. I play a distracted game of noughts and crosses with Charlie, using a chalkstone I picked up in the road to draw lines on the brick wall.

Thirty-five minutes later, an orange station wagon pulls up. The bodywork is dented and the metal rusted where the paint has peeled. My jaw drops when the rickety vehicle comes to a stop next to us and Jerry exits.

“Jerry.” I throw my arms in the air.

“What?” he says in an exasperated voice. “It’s all I could do on short notice.”

“How far will this thing get us?”

He pats the bonnet. “She’s good. I checked her out. Engine is a make-over, the full Monty.” He holds the key out to me. “Swapped the registration plate, too, but keep off the main roads, just in case.”

“Thanks.” I snatch the key from his hand. “Let’s go, Charlie.”

Jerry pats Charlie on the back as my brother rounds the car. “How’s things, my man?”

Charlie gives him a high-five and a grin. When he’s buckled up, I look at Jerry through the window one last time before pulling off, heading for the highway.

The engine makes a funny noise, and the body of the car rattles, but we make smooth progress and manage to get through Hillbrow without any hijacking attempts, courtesy of the state of the car.

Once we hit the N1, my frayed nerves finally unravel. My hands start shaking on the wheel. A hot flush travels over me, making me break out in a sweat. My stomach is so tight it aches. I fight the urge to throw up. The summer smog is brittle and dirty, but I open the window to fill my lungs with air. As always, survival mode kicks in and numbs me to the fears and dangers of our situation.