her upbringing.
Why hadn't Mort chased her? Only two possibilities presented themselves to her: either he did not
want to, or he did not need to. Either way she felt confused and uneasy, even in the midst of her horror and
grief about what Stevie had done and how he had paid for it.
Jazz and Terence were walking along a tree-lined street now, the houses not as opulent as in the
mayor's district but still large and imposing. At the wail of a siren, they slipped into an alley to await the
passage of a speeding police car.
"Did you see it?" he asked, as they set out walking again.
"Yes," Jazz said. Her voice sounded empty and flat. "Shot him in the head."
"The battery!" Terence said. "Did you see the battery?"
Jazz frowned, thinking for a moment that perhaps Terence had lost it. But she could see the
knowledge of what had happened in his face. He knew. He was not stupid.
"The battery?"
"When you saw the mayor, before Stevie killed him, did you see the battery?" They'd stopped on the
street and Terence held both of her shoulders, ready to shake. If they'd wanted to attract more attention to
themselves, she supposed they could have stripped and started screwing on the pavement.
"Stevie's dead," Jazz whispered. "He fell. I watched him fall, and —"
"Fuck it!" Terence shouted. He looked around then, shook his head, and ran a hand over his ruffled
hair, as if flat-tening it down would smooth over the fuckup this had be-come. "Come on."
As they started walking again, Jazz said, "Did you hear me? Stevie's dead."
"His fault," he said.
"What?"
"And Harry's. Harry's more than his, I suppose. That old bastard steered him."
They turned right into a narrow lane that led to the rear of the houses, passed several parked cars
—Audis, BMWs, sporty soft-tops—then Terence vaulted a fence and held out his hands for Jazz to follow.
She hesitated, looking around. The presence of the BMWs troubled her. In her mind she could still
see Mort's smile and that casual wave.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Tube," he said. "I have a flat in Colliers Wood; we can hole up there for a while." He seemed
distracted, never quite meeting her eyes. He was fuming, and she sensed him ready to boil over.
"I don't know you," she said. Terence looked at her, then away again, straining over the fence.
"Come on!" he said. "I won't wait all day."
Tube, Jazz thought. Safest place for me right now. She was momentarily surprised at how she had
come to view the Underground as safe, but there were things down there she was starting to understand
more and more, and things up here she knew less and less. Her world seemed to be chang-ing with every
breath. She could fight those changes or follow.
"I believe you," she said. "I just don't know you any-more." She grasped his hands and he pulled her
over the fence.
As they walked, her legs hurt more and more. She had cut herself on the top of the security wall and
gashed her shin on a broken roof tile but barely been aware of the in-juries until now. In spots, her trousers
had turned dark with blood, but her injuries were not serious; nothing a few ban-dages and some antibiotic
cream wouldn't cure. They hurt when she walked, but she welcomed the pain, because Stevie could not
feel pain anymore, nor could Cadge or her mother. She was hurting because she was still alive, and even
though she had just seen two people die, she felt a moment of utter joy, a shocking euphoria. A bee buzzed
them, weeds bent beneath their feet and sprang up again, and when they reached a busy main street she
looked up at clouds, colorful window boxes, and the way life filled this place.
A police car cruised by, and Terence turned her to face a bookshop window. She saw his reflection,
and even there his eyes seemed dark.
"There was no battery," Jazz said.
"We didn't search the whole house."
"There was nothing in the mayor's room but the mayor."
"That means nothing. Damn it. So close!" She knew he wanted to shout, but he whispered instead.
She looked along the street and saw the familiar Tube symbol above the pavement. Almost there,
she thought. They walked on. Jazz thought about linking arms to give them the look of a couple, but
Terence was frowning at the ground as he walked now, arms swinging by his side and lips pursed in
concentration. When they reached the Tube station, he turned right and paused at the ticket machine,
buying two Travelcards for them. He handed one to Jazz, passed through the turnstile,
| | |
|