The Pursuit of Emma by Dave Moyer (novels for teenagers .txt) 📖

experience. That’s what Louis, my styling artist, had said. I am pretty sure Louis and Stephen bat for the same team and I am grateful to both of them for making me somewhat fashionable.

Louis almost passed out when he saw the condition my hair was in. Something about split-ends or something. I explained to him that I had been under a lot of stress at work and he forgave me. I was a little more wary of allowing Louis free reign over my hair as I didn’t want to end up looking like Jedward (again. Don’t ask!). He flicked through some magazines for me and eventually we agreed on something short and smart. I hoped I might resemble Matt Damon as Jason Bourne or Brad Pitt without his 90’s curtains but I was bitterly disappointed. Not with the haircut - Louis had done a good job - but with the fact my face hadn’t changed and I was still without a six-pack. I had never been in a place where they give you a shave as well, but Louis did. I had heard of it in old fashioned barbers but not up-market places like this. Truth be told, I’m not sure whether they do offer it, or whether Louis couldn’t bear the thought of me leaving looking so groomed on the top of my face and so unkempt on the bottom.

Forty-five minutes later I was looking pretty good. I felt like a new man, which I guess I was. So much of my life had changed in one day. Since Emma had left, the man I once was had almost completely disappeared and what stood in its place was a contradiction. Half confident and half terrified of his own shadow. I had achieved things I never thought possible but still couldn’t shake the fear of things to come. That’s normal though when your wife gets kidnapped by the Russian mob who threaten to kill (and maybe torture her) unless she helps them do something incredibly illegal, isn’t it?

I had to break into a sprint to make it back to the garage on time and even then the tubes delayed me so I ended up being almost twenty minutes late. The man-mountain was still there although they had closed the garage to the public. I knocked on the door and at first he waved me away. Then, realising who I was, he turned and unlocked the door.

‘Fuck me, I didn’t recognise you there mate,’ he muttered. He was breathing deeply. He looked sweatier than usual as if he had been working hard. I hoped it was on my car.

‘It’s all ready for you mate. She’s looking pretty sweet,’ he added, walking me through the doors.

To my surprise it did. I mean it was still a piece of shit, but it was one that looked like it had been shown some love. The most important thing to me was that the windows were blacked out.

He ran me through all the things he added and made sure I felt I had my money’s worth. I was impressed. After what seemed like hours he finished talking and I handed him the rest of his cash.

‘I appreciate this,’ I said. ‘Thanks again.’

Holding the money, Blubber waved me out of the garage, shocked at how easily he had earned himself two grand extra.

The car was ridiculous. I found it impossible to have the music on anything except ‘deafeningly loud’ and I wasn’t a hundred percent sure the black tinting was legal. But it was doing the job. I was definitely not the sort of person you expected to be driving in this car. If by some bizarre reason I drove straight past the Kozlovs they would never suspect I was inside. It was perfect camouflage.

I made my way home, via the clothes shop to pick up my new wardrobe, and spent most of the evening trying to unpack everything. It was late by the time my new flat was in some sort of an order. I threw away my old clothes, which seemed a bit extreme but I wanted a complete change and jumped in the shower. I was in there a long time but it felt good; after all I was exhausted.

My beautiful little iPhone was on charge and ready to use as I collapsed on my bed. I found the scribbled note of my old contact’s numbers and saved them on my phone. I could at least now contact Mum, Sophie, Rachel and - most importantly - Jack.

I was no longer the man I used to be, but sadly I still had the same problems. I had no idea where Emma was or how she was coping. She was strong in every sense of the word and she would be fine. She had to be.

Buying all my new belongings had distracted me but now I was back on track. I was in a better situation, surely? I had money at my disposal and had convinced the Russians I was out of the country. If I could just track Emma down I could save her.

I fell asleep, hoping my dreams would bring a plan. It killed me, not being able to find her. Even if I knew where she was I couldn’t do anything. They were too powerful and it was too hard to get away from them.

I wanted to do this on my own. I'd left Sophie behind hoping it would keep her safe and I had my reservations about involving Jack and Rachel again. But time was running out. I opened the drawer and checked that the gun was still there, in case I needed it. It was.

I needed help. Tomorrow I would phone Jack. Chapter Sixteen

‘I was going to eat here once...but we decided to get a mortgage instead!’

Jack was pleased to hear from me. Since his visit over the weekend he had heard nothing and had begun to worry. My number was one he did not recognise and he answered it with little hesitation.

‘Hello?’ he questioned.

‘How’s it going Jack?’ I asked as calmly as I could.

‘Tom! Am I glad to hear from you,’ he exclaimed.

‘Are you and Rachel keeping safe?’

‘Of course, you know me. How are you?’

I told him I was fine and not to worry.

‘I've loads to tell you,’ I said honestly.

‘Yeah, me too,’ he breathed, which seemed encouraging.

‘But not over the phone, can we meet? I can come to you if it’s easier.’

‘Let me come down to you mate. Rachel is working late tonight and she is safe there. I can be there in a couple of hours and get back before she is home.’

‘Great I looked forward to it.’

‘Shall I come to your place?’

‘Not exactly...I’ll text you an address.’

*****

Less than two hours later we were sat together at a small table in one of the most expensive restaurants in London. ‘Startle’ was slowly building a reputation as the best restaurant in the country. It was a little too trendy for me but it had as many Michelin stars as it was possible to get and we were guaranteed a good meal.

I figured it was the best way for me to explain to Jack what my situation was. He was flabbergasted as he approached the table, escorted by two men who were dressed smarter than I was at my own wedding. I could see him eyeing me up and down as he got nearer and shaking his head in disbelief.

‘What is going on mate?’

‘What do you mean?’ I joked. ‘Have you never eaten at Startle before?’

‘I was going to eat here once... but we decided to get a mortgage instead!’

It was good to see him again. I loved the banter we'd always had.

‘So you’ve got to fill me in quick buddy, before I order a main course,’ he said.

‘You don’t order a main here, it’s a set five course menu,’ I replied, smirking. ‘OK, I'll tell you everything.’

And I did. It took me through two-courses to tell all about working out what they key meant and my journey from then on. I could tell he was impressed by what I had achieved in just a few days. It seemed a lifetime ago when I was standing in Victoria Station, unsure of how Emma felt about me. Eventually Jack knew as much as I did about the situation and sat in stunned awe.

‘Tom, that’s incredible.’

I wasn’t sure to what he was referring exactly so I shot him a quizzical look.

‘All of that. To find the locker and the money. And avoid the Kozlovs. And the whole airport trick. And to do it alone so quickly. It’s unbelievable!’

I smiled proudly. It had been a long time since I had felt proud of myself. It was a big achievement and I was happy I had done it. Not that I'd had a choice.

‘You know the money she gave you is going to be illegal right? There are loads of issues here.’

‘So is me having a gun, but my situation isn’t exactly normal, right?’ I said back.

I could see Jack thinking. He hated doing things that were openly illegal but he knew what I was going through.

‘You're right,’ he said at last. ‘Compared to the things you have done, and probably will do, spending some dodgy money is probably the least of our worries.’

We ate in silence for a second. The food was incredible. I was more of a ‘Chinese takeaway on a Friday night’ kind of guy but I could get used to it. The plates were considerably smaller than the size I was used to but the courses kept coming out. At points, water with lemon wedges were brought out to clean your fingers! That’s what your trouser legs were for. It was completely over the top, but for the price we were paying, it'd better be.

‘Is there any order to using this cutlery?’ Jack asked, clearly no more comfortable than I was.

‘I don’t think so,’ I replied. ‘I think it’s just to give you a choice.’

*****

By the time the final course came we were stuffed. The flavours were incredible and I just wished I had a palette that could properly appreciate it. It was good day so far; I always felt safer having Jack around, but I knew we needed to push on.

‘You said you had things to tell me,’ I said through mouthfuls of pudding.

‘Yeah, it’s just a theory but it might be a lead,’ he said tantalising.

‘Go on,’ I begged, desperate to know.

Jack pulled out his phone and flicked through the apps until he found a photo.

‘Do you know what this is?’ he asked, showing me the image on his phone.

The picture wasn’t particularly clear. It looked a bit as if he had taken a photo of a photo. It was a jug of some sort. I couldn’t tell you what sort as I’m not a scientist or... nerd. But it looked old, expensive and important. It was blue with white fragments and some sort of animal emblazoned on the side (I couldn’t tell what animal).

‘It looks like a jug,’ I deduced.

‘Technically it’s a ewer. It is basically a large jug which people used to carry water in. You used it to wash from. This one is a very important Chinese artefact from the