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NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE

02-12-03   6M

(p3)

The Storm Tree

By

C. L. Norcott

 

Synopsis

A new drug is burning its way through the streets of Europe. In the humid jungles of Thailand, its creator, Song Li, is basking in its success. In London, Johns, a Government agent, is becoming desperate to catch the drug baron, who always seems to be one step ahead of the men who are trying to catch him. Johns has tried all of the usual strategies, and his frustration boils when all around him are giving up hope of capturing Song Li. Then he discovers a schoolgirl who turns out to be the key to unlocking where Song Li is hiding.

But Johns is so obsessed with his own success that he is willing to sacrifice anything, and risk life, even if it is the life of the girl.

 

 

Chapter 1

The girl moved slowly through the crowd. Just a girl out on a Saturday afternoon. Probably window-shopping. Waiting for her friends. Waiting for the boy she was hoping to bump into. It didn’t matter. She was there. And he had seen her.

 

It wasn’t her looks, which had startled the man. She didn’t stand out from the crowds of other teenage girls who thronged the Saturday high street. A dress in a window caught her eye and she stopped for a closer examination, aimlessly swinging her cheap, PVC handbag around her legs.

 

This was the fourth Saturday that the man had sat watching and waiting. He was studying the stream of humanity that flowed past in all directions, some up stream some downstream, and some, like him, just washed up on a driftwood bench. He lifted his arm and shrugged up the sleeve of his plain black suit to reveal the diver’s watch beneath it. A glance at the face and the sleeve was slid back. His expressionless eyes lifted and continued the surveillance of the faces that streamed past.

 

He had been sitting there for four hours, occasionally stretching a long leg, occasionally resting an arm on the wooden rest, and there he would remain, Saturday after Saturday until he found her.

 

He didn’t know her name, age or any detail other than her face, and that was seared into his memory from one meeting. He had been walking through this street almost one month previously on a cold, bleak November afternoon. People were finishing their shopping in the glow of street lamps and premature Christmas twinkles from shop windows. The man had been walking with his leather clad hands thrust into the pockets of his dark overcoat, his eyes focused several paces ahead of him, as he watched the burdened shoppers move out of his way. A single shopping bag hung around his wrist containing his only purchase.

 

It was an inconsequential day to the man. Saturday, a day to plan and prepare for the week ahead. And it would have been the same as any other Saturday, except she got in his way. As she came out of a clothes store she must have spotted a friend across the street, and dashed across the pavement, eyes glistening in the cold air, and a smile forming on her face. She didn’t see the man who walked towards her.

 

He had expected her to move out of his way as everyone did, but instead she turned and ran straight in front of him, only missing a collision by darting right, and even then their arms brushed together. As they did, the arm of his coat was pulled up, and for an instant the skin of her hand brushed against his forearm, sending electric shivers through him. She didn’t even look to see his face, her head was turning left then right, and then left again as she checked for cars and ran across the murky street.

 

The man had stopped. This girl had made him stop. He rubbed the forearm where she had touched him, his black leather glove massaging furiously, until a red patch rose on his pale skin. He shivered violently but the cold felt as if it came from his spine. He flipped up the thick collar on his coat, thrust his hands deeper into his pockets, and watched the girl. She aimlessly rubbed her hand on her jeans, and then pushed it into the pocket of her purple bomber jacket before running up and jumping on her unsuspecting friend. Both girls exploded into shrill laughs before thrusting their arms and marching off down the pavement, their heads close together. She didn’t even see him.

 

His first emotion was to grab her there and then, but reason prevailed. Instead he had committed to memory every detail until he had her image blazing in his mind. And there it stayed until the Saturday high street brought a mass identity parade. His body was still but his eyes scanned whilst his mind put image to face, over and over again, waiting for the successful match.

 

And here she came.

 

Extract from chapter 8

 

Song Li waded out of the water and ran to the rock where he had left his clothes. He quickly pulled on the discarded shorts and then ran to the shelter and protection of his hut, where he grabbed a coconut and furiously hacked into it with his machete, and then splashed the milky juice into his open mouth. He sat on the dirty mattress in the corner of the room, brushing off a disgruntled spider, which was already there, and as he carved the flesh off the coconut, he forced his mind to stop panicking and revert to the calculated intelligence which came naturally to him.

He laid the facts carefully out in his mind. Yes, he had been seen, by an English girl, he knew that. She had probably been there long enough to know his name, and would definitely know about the OH drug as he was always congratulating himself about that in his mind. What he didn’t know was whether Johns had sent her. Was he involved in this? The mere thought of him made Song Li stab the blade of his knife fiercely into the wooden floor.

 

There was the possibility that this girl had no idea what she had just seen, or the importance of it. In fact, if it weren’t for the mention of the OH, it would have no relevance to her, but he knew how much emphasis the Western media had put on the drug, and unless she had had her head buried in the sand for the last few years, she must recognise its name. One word to the local police and Johns would be on the scent like a bloodhound. Song Li almost smirked grimly at the man’s desperation.

 

A strange looking insect crawled over his bare foot. Song Li flicked it away with the tip of the blade and watched it scurry into a hole in the rotten wood. The image of a prison cell flashed in front of his mind, and he pushed it rudely away. Up to now he had thought himself invincible. Even when he was under the nose of the Western authorities, he had laughed in contempt at the efforts to catch him. Never, ever had he actually thought that they could catch him. Not up to now, because now there was a girl who knew where he was, and no matter where he hid, he knew that he would never be safe when she was living and breathing. There was no hole deep enough for him to crawl and hide in, because she could lead them to him wherever he was. He shivered in the humid heat as the thought of the four grey concrete walls, trapping him forever, closed in on his mind.