Page 60 of The Dead Come to Stay

They were walking up to the van—oneof the vans—in a largely deserted area, which may or may not be on alert already after the break-in last night in York. Green had spent the afternoon in Newcastle with some of her former mates, and her former chief... and she’d called in a favor: would they send a few members of the firearms division, just in case? They would. In her opinion, theyshould. They owed it.

When she called the chief in the middle of the night saying MacAdams had been assaulted in an artifacts raid, she didn’t even have to ask. The officers would be waiting for her at the station, and they’d brought extra protective gear for her, Andrews and Gridley. Probably this was more caution than necessary. But Green didn’t take chances.

The weather had changed again, was wet and brooding andcool. The van arrived as predicted by nine; Green had watched them park up through binoculars.

“Same plate as the one from yesterday,” she said to Gridley.

The registration had checked out just fine, listed as belonging to a Samuel Fordham. Mr. Fordham lived in Bent Road, Newcastle, and had opened his door to police in his pajamas. Yes, he was who he claimed to be—current driver license, no infractions.

Trouble was, he didn’t own a van, or a car, either. His identity had been stolen, lifted and applied to the white butty van presently parked down the hill from where Green and the others took positions.

“Firearm team ready?” Green spoke into Gridley’s radio.

“Yes, Detective, we’ve got you covered,” returned the tinny voice.

Green patted the vest well concealed under a windbreaker and nodded to Gridley.

“Careful,” Gridley mouthed.

Andrews gave her a thumbs-up; they had the road blocked to either side. She nodded, took a break and made her way down the far side of the hill.

She could hear music playing long before she got to the open window and its metal counter. Punk, she thought; not her style but Rachel liked it—possibly Ghost Car, out of London. Green rapped on the counter hard enough to jostle condiments.

“Oi, be there in a minute,” came the reply, followed by a pocked face and a shock of red hair. Not the youth they had encountered before—but also about twenty. “What can I get you?”

“Actually,” Green said. “I am not here for bacon butty.”

His face appeared to be on hold. “What are you here for, then?” he asked.

Green kept her face neutral, body language casual. “Same as you,” she said. He didn’t appear to be buying it. “Just running late today. It’s muddy out there.”

“You—you’re a walker?” he asked, one hand squeezing down the volume control on a set of portable speakers.

Green felt her eyebrows twitch.A walker, he said, when the common term wasrambler.Did it signify? She decided to commit.

“I’m the walker today,” she said, changing to the definite article.

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m new.”

The kid looked Green up and down, and she immediately regretted not sending Andrews, who was youngest of them and looked younger still. For a tense moment, she thought the game was up. Then he reached behind the counter and lifted up a hiker’s backpack.

“Your turn,” he said, and Green began to sweat. Her turn for what?

“Show me what’s in the bag first,” she said, heart beating hard against her ribs. He still had one hand on it, firm.

“Ain’t how it works,” he said. “Gimme the envelope.”

Green reached into her jacket, a pretense.Could she stall further? If she jumped for it, could she grab hold of the bag strap? Should she blow cover and call for backup?

“Benny? That you?”

Green started at the voice and spun about. Between the punk rock music and the soft, wet earth, she hadn’t heard anyone walking up to them. Not just anyone; a young girl in a blue poncho and wellies. She had something tucked under one arm.

“Ah, shit!” Benny, as the pocked teen must be known, had recognized the girl—and also his mistake. He slammed the window shut. Green wasn’t fast enough to stop him from latching it, but at the moment, she had bigger problems. The girl had taken off across the moor.

“Stop! Police!” Green shouted, not because she assumed it would work, but to alert the others that the jig was up. The girlhad a good start, but Green was fast and in better footwear. She pelted across the trail in pursuit.