Of Airguns and Old Friends
Alice inched closer to Frank and took a quiet, steadying breath.
“Okay, Braveheart?” He asked her.
“Less fond of this job now we are parents,” she murmured back. “But yes, love, I’m okay. You?”
Frank took her hand in his and squeezed it, nodding.
The first sign that they were not alone was the purr of an engine. No light accompanied it.
“Not part of the plan,” Frank whispered urgently. “The informant was supposed to arrive on foot.”
“I know,” Alice hissed, staring into the inky streets. The darkness seemed unnaturally deep. “But that’s definitely a motorbike.”
“Two, even,” Frank muttered, straining to hear.
“Backup,” came a familiar voice from behind them. “I’m sure they won’t be necessary.”
Alice whipped around and eyed the figure standing some ten feet from them, whose arrival had somehow gone unnoticed.. “Barty?” She asked incredulously. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, according to your lot, I’m informing,” he said carelessly. “My father believes I remain loyal.” His tongue shot out to the corner of his lips as they curled into a smirk.
“But you don’t,” Frank surmised coolly, stepping forward.
“No,” Barty agreed easily. “I don’t. Why didn’t you bring your bikes?”
“It was part of the agreement -” Alice began half-heartedly.
“And yet your lot are usually the first to break such agreements,” Barty cut her off coldly. For the first time, Alice felt a frisson of fear. Around them, many more than two engines revved.
“That’s not true,” Frank interjected. “You grew up in this group, Barty. You know us.”
“It’s not a group, it’s a gang,” Barty spat. “Your children are steered and shaped into the next generation of whatever the hell it is you stand for. But here’s the thing about gangs…” he paced towards them like a stalking lion. His eyes gleamed and his tongue flickered. Once he was close enough, he whispered, “You have to be in the strongest one if you’re going to come out on top.”
“So you’ve decided we’re somehow rivals now and you’re defecting to the stronger team?” Alice asked.
“Why would you want an informant if we are not rivals?”
The question was quiet, and met with silence. Alice clenched her jaw as pictures of those she had called friends, killed in collisions on the road, flashed before her eyes. Every one had died in an apparent accidents - but someone from Barty’s group had been close by.
If their attitude was one of gang rivalry after a broken agreement, it was no wonder so many of their group were ending up dead, was it? That was why they were looking for an informant. Barty may not have been a willing informant, but an informant he had been.
“Thank you for meeting us,” Alice said stiffly, trying to match this Barty with her childhood friend. “We will pass your regards to your father.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” he said smoothly. “Now!” He called.
Two quiet popping sounds were the only warning either of the Longbottoms had before each was hit with a dart, and their vision began to swim.
“Neville’s with his grandmother, isn’t he?” Barty asked kindly. His smile was feral. “He’ll be staying a bit longer with her now.”
Alice tried to shout, but her head lolled and her mouth opened silently.