Ricky was walking back to his flat. The apartment he’d leased while he was away in Asia was just a block down the street from Tony’s apartment, on the other side. He’d had a beer or two, but his hearing was unaffected and as he turned the corner he picked up the sharp sound of glass shattering, followed by a car alarm. He cupped both ears and listened. Looking up, he saw straight ahead at twelve o’clock the tail end of a robbery; two masked vandals armed with crowbars were dislodging the stereo and GPS system from a car parked on the street. A third took a laptop computer from the backseat and inspected the trunk.
‘Thief! Thief! Police! Help!’ Ricky screamed at the top of his lungs and announced his presence to the masked men. The third handed the laptop to his colleagues and lunged toward Ricky with a butcher knife. He swung and Ricky ducked, delivering an acrobatic low kick to his assailant who dropped his weapon and fell. Ricky jumped on top of him and was about to throw a right hook when he saw a crowbar flying his way. The crowbar whacked his forehead and Ricky shrieked in pain as he clutched his face and faltered. Almost simultaneously the vandal below him grabbed his butcher knife and swung it at Ricky. Ricky flew backwards but felt the blade slit his body. Sprawled on the ground, he looked down to see the huge gash in his arm where the blade had traveled, and blood was pouring onto his hands.
He looked up to see the trio fleeing on motorbikes. Though they were almost out of his sight, he managed to collect snippets of their conversation. Ricky was out of luck, however, because the conversation was in a Southeast Asian language he couldn’t decipher. He got his phone out and dialed 999, just as Tony Barlow rushed out onto the street.
‘Good heavens, what’s happened! Are you all right? Bloody hell that’s my car!’
Inspector Caselli was very civil despite his rugged face and boxer’s build. He assured them that Scotland Yard would do everything it could to retrieve the stolen goods and apprehend the hoodlums.
‘We’ve checked footage of nearby surveillance cameras but it wasn’t much use as the motorbikes had their number plates covered. So it’ll take some time, but hopefully not too long.’
‘Do you think it was planned?’ Tony asked.
‘Afraid I can’t answer that yet. There have been a few similar incidents lately. I’ll make sure to fast track the paperwork for this, since we’ve also got personal injury on the list,’ Caselli eyed Ricky’s bandaged arm.
‘Yes, Mr. Vega, thank you once again for your help. And what a coincidence it is that you’re Mateo’s friend.’
‘Not at all Mr. Barlow. But I’m afraid I didn’t end up helping much.’
‘What were you doing in this part of town?’
‘I live just across the street, and I’ve flown back from Asia to see London win the title. Good luck next week - I’m actually in charge of planning the festivities for your players after they wrap up the title.’
‘Ah you’re a neighbour! I’ll make sure you have a seat right next to us for Sunday’s game. Or the director’s box if you prefer.’
‘Sorry to cut the small talk,’ Caselli interrupted, ‘but Mr. Vega, you said the thieves spoke Vietnamese?’
Ricky nursed his arm, taking care not to touch the stitches he’d received from ER.
‘Yes I couldn’t tell immediately but I recognised it after they were gone.’
‘So they were speaking amongst themselves during the robbery.’
‘No, this was after they got on their motorbikes and fled.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘They didn’t talk during the robbery.’
‘But how could you have heard them if they were driving away?’
Ricky sighed and remembered the tiresome aspects of using his ears to get involved in other people’s problems.
‘I just did. They were shouting and I picked up some of it.’
Caselli wasn’t convinced. He studied the American closely but couldn’t read any murky motives in the younger man’s face. Vega looked and felt like a decent chap, and Caselli had spent enough years in the force to discern a decent man from a corrupt one. He seldom let others question his personnel assessments and relied heavily on the old instinct to guide him through investigations. At the moment he couldn’t find anything wrong with Vega, although the man did appear to be hiding a portion of the truth. But Caselli let it slide and decided that if he was going to get anything out of him, he couldn’t force it out.
‘Here’s my card. If you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to call me.’
They shook hands and Tony got up to see the inspector to the door. Liz refilled Ricky’s teacup and thanked him again for his heroics.
‘That was very brave of you. Weren’t you afraid they would hurt you?’
‘There wasn’t much time to think about that. I just thought it was strange and approached them.’
‘What was strange?’
‘Mr. Barlow’s car isn’t a particularly nice car. Of course the neighbourhood is home to upper middle class folks, but if I had to pick a car to steal from I’d have looked at some of the nicer ones. I mean, the Porsche just several yards away was left untouched.’
‘What are you saying Mr. Vega?’
‘Nothing. It’s just a little strange. And one of the thieves, who seemed to be commanding the other two, had a backpack ready for the laptop. I believe what the leader takes could be what they value most…’
‘What’s this about?’ Tony asked as he returned to the sofa.
‘Mr. Vega is quite the detective.’ Liz said.
‘I’m no detective,’ Ricky denied the appraisal and cleared his throat. ‘I’m sure the police will figure everything out.’
‘Might you share with me what you were telling Elizabeth?’
‘Um...I don’t know. I think I’m jumping to conclusions.’
‘That’s all right. I’d like to understand why this happened. Please.’
Ricky was regretting he’d ever said anything. But on the other hand he couldn’t ignore the pain in his ears; they were no longer simply itching but throbbing incessantly, and he knew from 30 years of experience that when the throbbing grew irrepressible, something malicious was churning in the mills.
The black of night provided ample cover for the speeding sports car. The streets through which the jet black Ferrari cruised were completely empty and silent. Even the sound of the engine was somehow softer than usual, as if the car understood the driver’s need to stay hidden.
The driver parked along the street, turning both the lights and engine off. Minutes later a hooded figure walked up and tapped three times on the heavily tinted window. Mateo unlocked the door and the man stepped inside. He did not lower his hood, but shafts of pale moonlight revealed a face ravaged by drug addiction.
‘Where is it?’ The man hissed.
Mateo handed over a paper bag. The man inspected its contents then flashed an approving smile.
‘Remember, I can always help you if you bring me more.’
Mateo didn’t reply.
‘Now, before I do this I want to make sure. If you get caught, we never met. Understood? You rat on me and I’ll make sure your boy never sees the light of day again.’
‘I say nothing. Now let’s move,’ Mateo pointed ahead at their target building.
They both got out and cautiously spied their surroundings. Once they’d confirmed they weren’t being followed, they parted ways; Mateo went around the back and the hooded figure walked up to the door of a shop with the Closed sign on display. He rummaged in his pocket for the keys, then quietly slipped in. Mateo couldn’t hear much from the other side of the building, but he did manage to hear the door shut when Tran stepped inside. Mateo also stepped inside the shadows and made sure he was cloaked in full. Then he held his breath, and waited.
He flinched when he thought he’d heard a thud, but afterwards he heard nothing else to affirm his fears. He counted the seconds because they mattered, and it had been almost fifteen minutes now since Tran entered the shop. He closed his eyes in an effort to stop imagining things, but that only brought out the worst. He thought this whole situation was surreal and asked himself where it all went wrong. Yesterday, on the pitch, he had been dumbstruck to see Luong run at him. He didn’t need to hear it - the action was self-explanatory. Although he questioned whether the pitch invasion had been the right thing to do, there was no questioning the intent, the need to warn Mateo. Mateo himself had sensed that things weren’t the same and that returning to the shop would endanger him. Luong had warned him, and now the warning was proven legitimate. He wouldn’t walk into the traps they had set for him. Instead, he’d spring a surprise on those mobsters himself. If only they could get out of this operation quietly and unscathed, Mateo would probably manage to run away safely with--
Wham!
The back door flew open as a body landed on the sidewalk. Mateo covered his mouth, although no sound escaped his lips. Trembling, Mateo knelt down to poke at the body, just as it woke into life with a moan. Tran rushed out and whispered furiously.
‘Go! Get the hell out of here! Go! Now!’
With that the Vietnamese dashed off into the darkness. Through the open back door Mateo saw a dim light turn on at the end of the corridor. Angry voices and the sound of shuffling footsteps emanated from deep inside the building.
‘Come on!’ Mateo carried the man on his shoulder and made a run for the car. But the man was too big a burden and Mateo knew he had no chance if he had to drag him all the way. He slapped the man’s cheeks hard. ‘Come on! Wake up! Wake up!’ The man’s eyes slowly regained focus and he tried to stand up. He was limping too much, but his effort was better than nothing. They had run a good hundred metres or so when Mateo heard voices outside.
‘Ngăn chặn chúng! Bước mau!’
If they caught them now, it would be the end. Mateo bit his lower lip and pulled with every ounce of muscle in his body. The man at his side was responding, himself also putting more power into his legs. They both grunted in pain but quickly made up the distance to the car. The Ferrari let out a beep and flashed into life while Mateo’s companion hobbled around to the passenger seat.
‘Agh!’
The man looked around to see Mateo caught in an armlock.
‘Hey--ở đây!’ The thug shouted. He was about to swing a thundering hook into Mateo’s eye when the rescued patient jumped over the car bonnet and rammed him to the ground. Mateo then whipped in a stinging kick with his left foot straight into the thug’s groin. He screamed in agony and rolled over, his body hunched fetally in submission. The two desperados bolted inside the car as the rest of the mob gained ground on them. The Ferrari roared into life and managed to spurt backward in the nick of time as one of the thugs smashed a crowbar into Mateo’s side of the windscreen.