Ethan Justice: Origins

25: Monday 26th September, 12:15

Kate's right cheek glowed red from the blow. She steadied herself against the wall. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stared at her father defiantly.

"Welcome back, Dad," she said, through bared teeth.

Wilson was lost for a second. How could he have been so wrong? Why would God have lied to him? And then uncertainty vanished, and he knew exactly what was expected of him. He marched to the sofa and picked up the briefcase containing the latest prototype of the gun. Laying it flat on the sofa, he opened the case and pulled out the casing which housed the gun.

"What the fuck is that?" his daughter asked, eying the shiny chrome contents of the casing.

Ignoring her, Wilson spotted the watch immediately. He couldn't help but smile before replacing the gun and casing back into the briefcase. Johnson was so predictable. Closing the case with a loud click, he turned to Kate.

"If my partner, Johnson, turns up, I want you to give him this case."

Kate made her way to the sofa, rubbing her cheek as she neared. "Why can't I keep it? That gun looks cool. A lot more fun than those Tasers you get for me."

Wilson handed the case to his daughter.

"If you tamper with the case, it will blow up in your face. I want you to give Johnson a message."

"Why the fuck should I after you hit me?"

Wilson raised his hand and Kate jumped back. He smiled.

"If you don't, I'll have you evicted from this expensive flat, and you can live on the streets where you belong."

"All right. Keep your hair on. I'll fucking do it."

*

Johnson screeched through the traffic lights at the crossroads that led onto Wellington Road at Hampton Hill. He was less than two miles away from Twickenham and the weapon. He no longer cared that several police cars followed him. He glanced at the watch for a new proximity reading. Smith and the briefcase carrying the weapon were less than a quarter of a mile apart.

An old couple leapt out of his path as he mounted the kerb, his hand pressing down hard on the horn as if it would help them react faster. Other pedestrians further along cleared a path for the oncoming vehicle but not the green rubbish bin which flew into the air and over the bonnet sending tins, bottles and other debris over the windscreen. Johnson stamped his foot on the accelerator, and the V8 engine roared with approval.

*

Belying his physique, Wilson smoothly came up behind Fisher and thrust his Glock pistol into the man's back.

"Hold it right there, gentlemen and lady," Wilson said, turning to a bench on platform four. "Let's take a seat over there shall we? No trains departing from platform four today, so I'm told. We won't be disturbed."

Fisher looked back over his shoulder. "Earthguard. I told you we couldn't trust her, Varushkin. Women are all deceitful bitches."

"Watch your language in front of the lady, Fisher. Let's keep it polite, shall we?"

"Meet the man with the gun," Savannah said, as Wilson relieved Fisher of his Beretta 92. "Or should I now say, two guns and a super weapon?"

Wilson admired the Berretta for a few seconds in the concealed space between himself and Fisher's back before tucking the gun into his trousers beneath his coat and shoving Fisher in the back.

"Move it tough guy," he said, reckoning that while Smith had a bit of the hero in him, Fisher was the only threat to his control of the situation. The group of four, who had been thrown together by Fisher's actions, sat side by side on the bench with Wilson between Savannah and Fisher and Smith on the far right next to Fisher. Nobody said a word until Wilson turned to his right and broke the silence.