Sharks - Matt Rogers (classic books for 11 year olds txt) 📗

a considerable police presence at the construction yard before long.

Slater clutched the phone tight, deep in thought. ‘Where are Walcott’s elite operators?’

‘What?’

‘He had a trained sniper at his disposal at the safe house. Whether the guy was actually ex-SAS or not is up for speculation, but he was definitely trained in some capacity. So far, we’ve only run into amateurs.’

King took a hand off the wheel to point at the blood-and-sweat-soaked shirt wrapped tight around Slater’s shoulder. ‘Not exactly amateur.’

‘I’m not grouping Vince into that category,’ Slater said. ‘He impressed me.’

A pause.

Slater said, ‘We have to assume there’s a tactical team slinking around. Walcott doesn’t seem like that type of guy to cut corners in that regard. I wonder where they are right now.’

‘You worried about the bungalow?’

‘I’m worried about Lyla and Caleb. I don’t want to ruin their life completely by taking them with us for temporary protection, but it might be the right call.’

Behind the jeep, far in the distance, a plume of smoke rose.

King said, ‘I think we’ve already ruined their life.’

Slater said, ‘Teddy did. Not us.’

King pondered that. ‘You know something I don’t?’

The phone buzzed in Slater’s hand.

It was Alexis.

He answered immediately, and got his speculation about the tactical team answered.

He listened to her speak, noted the level-headedness in her tone, which didn’t exactly gel with the picture she painted for him of the previous hour’s events.

He said, ‘Are either of you hurt?’

King’s eyes went wide.

Slater listened to the response, then said, ‘That’s good. Listen, I’m sure you’re both already all over it, but pack up shop. Get out of that place and lay low. It won’t take us long to have an update for you.’

He heard an affirmation and hung up.

King said, ‘What was that?’

Slater said, ‘A five-man unit stormed the bungalow. They’re all dead.’

King let out an exhale that had been trapped in his throat for the whole phone call.

Slater said, ‘I’d wager Dylan Walcott’s awfully low on competent soldiers right now.’

‘That gives us some wiggle room.’

‘Step on it.’

King did.

They gunned it back to Sunrise Park.

63

Lyla was waiting for them on the front porch.

Slater sported a fresh shirt he’d fished from the trunk, but the old one hadn’t moved, still wrapped tight over his wound. She noticed the unusual bulge over his shoulder as they jogged across the lawn toward her.

‘Are you hurt?’ she said.

‘I’ve been shot.’

He said it so calmly that she didn’t seem to register the full meaning immediately. She nodded, then paled, then said, ‘Oh, dear. Let me have a look at that. I have a first aid kit inside.’

She shuffled into the dim entranceway, and before they went in King said, ‘We might have a bigger fight ahead. What if it’s worse than you think?’

For demonstration, Slater lifted his bad arm up until it was horizontal. ‘I’ve still got full function. Adrenaline wouldn’t be suppressing that anymore.’

King said, ‘I don’t know. You’re tougher than you think.’

‘If my arm was dead, no amount of toughness is getting through that.’

King conceded.

They went inside.

Slater heard Lyla fussing over something in the living room, close to irate, and when they rounded the corner Caleb was there, his hair scruffy, still half-asleep.

He looked up at them, and his eyes widened. The fog of sleep receded, replaced by childlike excitement. ‘Hello again!’

‘Hello again,’ Slater said.

‘You look bad,’ Caleb said. ‘You’re dirty.’

Lyla shushed him. She lifted her gaze to King and Slater. ‘I was just telling him to get back to his room.’

King held out a hand, encouraging calm. ‘It’s alright.’

Caleb shouted, ‘I ate vegetables!’

King smiled. ‘That’s good stuff. Did they taste yucky?’

Caleb nodded. ‘Uh-huh. Sure did. I had asparagus.’

He made a face like he’d caught a whiff of something putrid.

King said, ‘Want to know a secret?’

Caleb nodded with vigour. ‘Oh yeah.’

King said, ‘Things that taste yucky make you feel good.’

‘I don’t feel any different.’

‘It takes time. I ate my asparagus for a year straight, and look…’

He held up an arm and flexed. His bicep was a tight ball of corded sinew.

Caleb’s eyes went wide again. ‘Wow. So that’s how I’ll look in … a year?’

King said, ‘You’ll be getting close. Now I’m worried. What if you catch up to me? Next time I come back here you might be able to beat me up.’

‘Wow,’ Caleb said again. ‘That’d be cool.’

‘Now, Caleb, the adults need to talk. If you go to your room like your Grandma’s asking, I’ll tell you another secret later.’

He practically sprinted for the bedroom.

Lyla waited for the door to slam, and then shook her head.

King said, ‘What is it?’

When she looked up she was smiling, but it was a smile pulled from the depths of misery, which made it infinitely more important.

She said, ‘You’ll make a great dad one day.’

For some reason it got to King. Broke through the chaos of the last couple of days, went deep into his core, and resonated there. He didn’t let it show, but it took more effort than he thought to suppress it.

She said, ‘I don’t know why he listens to you and not Teddy.’

King said, ‘Kids have an inbuilt bullshit detector. I bet Teddy doesn’t eat his vegetables like he says he does.’

The ridiculousness of it all made her laugh. Then the laugh petered out, and she slumped to the sofa like the life had been sucked out of her.

Slater brought them back on track. ‘He called.’

Lyla nodded. ‘Your arm first, dear.’

‘My arm’s fine.’

‘No it’s not.’

She went to the kitchen and came back with a first-aid kit. He reached into the sleeve of his replacement tee and tugged the bloody tourniquet off his shoulder. Then he rolled the sleeve of the good tee up and sat down at the end of the sofa. He didn’t look at the damage. Sometimes realising how bad it is makes it bad. The elephant analogy, again.

She tottered round to sit down next to him and stared at his shoulder. ‘Oh, dear. It’s bad.’

Slater didn’t look at her for confirmation.

He looked at King, who was staring at the wound.

King