the street, head up. I was going to have to risk appearing suspicious. If I didn't find anyone who looked like a possible target I was fucked anyway.
A group of surly young guys who were probably best mates with the ones chasing me last night moved towards me, but carried on past.
It was no more than a hundred to the junction where my reception committee had been waiting. It was much busier than this stretch.
My arms were pumping now. The main was a blur of orange-and-whites.
Bodies milled on both corners, talking and smoking. Women with shopping bags wove their way through.
I stopped and looked around. One cowpat, moving across Flower in the distance, was taller, much taller than the others.
I ran.
A taxi pulled up, an old Mazda estate, and I saw him slide into the back seat. As it pulled away, I couldn't believe what I was about to do. I waved frantically at the nearest orange-and-white and did the same.
67
I jumped into the back. The driver had a white beard and black teeth, and looked about eighty. He waffled some kind of greeting. I shoved my hand into my bum-bag and dragged out a bundle of bills. 'Let's go! That taxi! Follow, follow!'
I waved my hand urgently but he seemed more interested in the stink of Marmite. I shoved a couple of tens into his gnarled brown hand. 'Let's go! Chop-chop!'
He finally pulled away. He studied me in his rear-view, which had enough beads hanging off it to decorate a mosque.
The Yes Man's mobile vibrated in my baggy pockets. Fuck him, he could wait.
I leant forward between the two front seats, eyes skinned for the Mazda. I tried to stay all smiles as I gave his bony old shoulder a friendly squeeze. 'That's it, matey, let's go get that wagon!'
I shoved another note at him.
It was just after nine. The sun was behind us. TV Hill was on the left. We were heading west.
The road narrowed. The shops petered out. Concrete, flat-roofed two-storey houses took their place. I peered through the dusty, cracked windscreen but there was no sign of the orange-and-white estate.
A vehicle pulled out of our lane up ahead and cut left across the oncoming traffic.
'There! That taxi! Follow that taxi!'
I waved my hands and tried to get him to see what I wanted. He didn't understand until I produced another ten.
The orange-and-white disappeared down a compacted-rock road. It was definitely two up. A large body sat rear right. It didn't move, didn't check behind.
I rolled down the window. The noise and heat of the outside world rushed in. 'That's it. Left, yeah? That taxi, yeah?'
He grinned knowingly as he spun the wheel to get in among the oncoming traffic. He'd probably seen that bloke with a beard pull the same stunt in a hundred Bollywood films as he fought big-time crime in downtown Delhi.
He got halfway across the road and slammed on the brakes. I pitched forward. Two gleaming white GMC suburbans, all blacked-out glass, sped towards us. Red and blue lights flashed behind radiator grilles to tell us to keep the fuck out of the way. These boys were stopping for no one.
We turned in their wake. TV Hill was now ahead. We were heading south.
I kept eyes on target. The plume of dust that billowed behind it was maybe a hundred and fifty further ahead. A gang of kids cleaning cars had to jump out of the way as we slewed across the gravel.
The orange-and-white hung another left.
'That's it, matey!'
Our car slowed. He still faced forward, but gave me a sideways glance.
'Dodgy bastard!' I jammed another ten his way and he chuckled as we picked up speed.
We followed the Mazda through the residential area, sometimes fifty behind, sometimes more. A main drag was coming up in the distance, but I could see a tailback stretching almost all the way to us. I ripped off my Bergen and grabbed the map.
TV Hill was now about a K ahead. I could clearly see the antennae farms on the two peaks. The main had to be Salang Wat. A left would take us back to the city centre. A right would take us north-west – out of the city and off the edge of the world.
We crept towards the main. The target was now about four vehicles in front.
The driver was chatting away now as if I was his long-lost brother. He smiled and sniffed the air. I could tell he was dying to ask the aftershave