Chase the Morning

‘Okay, so Damballah’s a voodoo god,’ protested Jyp uneasily, as if he didn’t like where this was leading. ‘He’s one of the good guys, the source of life – couldn’t be less like this Don P. character. And it’s only natural the Iskander would be carrying some stuff for those Alley fellas, sailing from those waters. Doesn’t prove anything. Still, sure, we ought to get the consignee and go look –’ His face hardened suddenly, as a wash of anger swept away the uncertainty. ‘The hell it doesn’t prove anything! It’s the best lead we’ve got. It fits; it all fits, too goddam well! And if old Frederick’s been trying to pull anything I personally will make him shove every one of those roots – sideways! But there’s not much time, and the far side’s a couple of miles away; a boat’d be fastest – if we can find one at this hour –’

‘Look, Jyp,’ I suggested, rather diffidently, ‘My car’s not far away – I think –’

His face lit up. ‘Your car? Wow, great! Let’s go! Let’s go!’ He bounced up again, excited as a schoolboy; hastily I downed my beer – a shame, it was excellent – and followed. In my confusion I hadn’t noted the street where I’d parked, or even the name of the dingy pub, but Jyp recognized the description and led me back there by what seemed a much shorter route. As we passed the pub he stuck his head round the door, to be greeted by a cheerful roar, and shouted his thanks; and from there I had no trouble finding my way.

As we emerged from the alley I was surprised; darkness had fallen in earnest now, with a touch of moist haze in the air, and it had transformed the place. New paint and trendy trimmings were swallowed up in a gloom the glaring pools of the streetlights only deepened. The strings of bright globes and glowing signs seemed to hang suspended in space before the solid untouchable shadows that were the buildings; their rooftops, ornamented with gable and turret, were timeless silhouettes against the lambent sky. For a moment I wondered if the car would still be there.

It was, though. When we got to it Jyp circled it, fascinated, unable to keep his hands off the smooth paintwork; and when I unlocked the door for him he got in awkwardly. ‘Ain’t never been in one of these fancy closed-in autos before,’ he confessed with an abashed grin, and was fascinated by the sun roof. He seemed equally impressed when I turned the starter, but as I accelerated smoothly away across the cobbles I heard him suck in his breath sharply, and when I reached thirty I glanced across and saw him rigid and staring in his seat, his feet braced against the well. A little cruelly, I took it up to forty as I turned into Danube Street, but it had the opposite effect; once he realized we weren’t flying out of control, he kicked and whooped ‘Hey, can you get any more out of her?’

‘Fifty-five suit you?’

He bounced on his seat as I accelerated, and yelled ‘Twenty-three skidoo-ooo-ooo! Faster – hey, what’re you slowin’ down for?’

‘There’s that junction you mentioned – and such things as speed limits in this town! And traffic lights!’ Though look what stopping for one of those got me into …

‘So where do we go from here, pilot?’

Jyp had slumped down in his seat, sulking, but he sat up quickly to gaze around like an excited child at the bright lights and garish shop windows of Harbour Walk. It had been a while, he claimed, since he’d been this way. Just how long, was something I should have been wondering about – but oddly enough it didn’t occur to me to ask, just then. Fortunately the geography didn’t seem to have changed, he picked an unlikely-looking turn-off, and gave me clear directions down a whirl of side roads. Once off the main road I took a corner or two too fast, just to cheer him up.

At last, tyres screeching, we turned into a much wider street, a smoothly curving terrace of stone buildings with tall half-columned frontages. These were no business buildings; they must once have been the town mansions of merchants, within easy reach of their wharves and counting-houses. They must have been really imposing then, with their tall windows and carved door lintels towering at the head of broad steps, all faced in fine-chiselled sandstone. Now the steps were dished with wear, the lintels cracked and chipped and bird-fouled, the windows mostly boarded and eyeless; torn posters and spray-paint slogans spattered the blackened stone. Only two or three of the street-lamps were working, but there was no sign of life to need them. I pulled in by a crumbling kerb, and almost before I could lift the handbrake Jyp bounced out. Something clattered against the door-frame. ‘C’mon!’

I blinked. Somehow I hadn’t noticed that particular something before. ‘Jyp – hadn’t you better be careful? That, uh, sword you’re wearing – do you want to leave it in the car?’