Blade 2: Closing In

Tim Bowler talks about Blade

‘There’s enough people looking for us. The Police, the girl gang, all the others. I don’t like to think about it. But the past has come back, hooked its claws into me. LIFE’S DANGEROUS AGAIN…….’

Following the dramatic events of the first Blade book, Playing Dead, Blade is on the run again with Becky and three-year-old Jaz in tow. Now it's not just those shadowy figures from his past that are after him, it's the rest of Becky's gang too. They think Blade and Becky killed their leader, Trix, and there's no way of proving otherwise.

Can Blade, Becky, and Jaz find safety together - or is there no escape from the forces Closing In on them?Blade thought he had escaped from his past. Out of sight, out of mind. On his own. But now everything's changed. He's not on his own any more. And he's back in the worst kind of trouble. Because people are still after him. People who will do whatever it takes to get to him. They know where he is now. And they're Closing In...



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Creep closer, through the gap in the fence, down the other side. Gobbos on my right, far side of the lane, lounging, smoking, murmuring. Two of 'em having a pee. Paddy's talking on a mobile.

A rat scudders past me, disappears in the bushes. I'm close to the rubbish on this side of the lane now. It's not so big a tip as the waste ground we passed earlier but there's plenty of stuff for what I need.

Another rat. Stops, looks at me, disappears like the last one. Move on, watching the shadows of the men beyond the fence, but I'm searching too, searching the piles of junk.

I soon find what I want. Shove it under a bush, move on quiet, slow, picking up stones. Stop at the fence, peer through.

They're still there but they've stopped talking, apart from Paddy on his mobile. They're restless – I can tell – like they want him to hurry up. They keep turning and looking at him.

I'm watching him too, Bigeyes.

You bet I am.

He's finishing his call. He gives a smug little chuckle like everything's OK with the world, like he's never hurt a fly in his life, puts the mobile in his pocket, turns to the others. They're watching him close now.

But not as close as me.

I choose one of the stones, watch, wait. He nods 'em towards the van and they start to move. I throw the stone into the darkness, well over their heads.

There's a soft thud among the rubbish on the other side of the lane.

The gobbos stop.

Not a word from any of 'em but they're staring over the rubbish where the stone landed. One of 'em speaks at last, low voice. But I catch it.

'Probably a cat.'

He doesn't sound convinced.

I wait, watch. They're still staring towards the rubbish beyond the lane, like they're waiting for another sound. Paddy nods towards the van again.

'Let's go. It won't be him.'

A laugh from the other gobbos, a strained kind of laugh. And I'm thinking, yeah – laugh away, laugh your faces off. It won't be the boy. This is the last place he'll be right now.

Laugh away.

I throw another stone, over to the left.

They stiffen, all at once. Now they're really looking, all directions this time. They're not stupid. Even the grunt's looking all round him.

But they don't see me. I'm in a little dip now, just behind the bottom level of the fence. There's bin bags and old tin cans for company but I don't care about that. I can see 'em clear but I'm out of sight for when the torches come on.

And there we go. Six lights flash out.

I dip my head a bit more, just to be safe. But I'm still watching. I'm watching like only I know how to watch. They're still grouped together and they're nervous. I can see it from the way they're standing.

Six big guys and they're scared of an unknown noise.

I could tell 'em about being scared. I could tell 'em about the unknown.

I take another stone. Got to be careful this time. With the torches on they might catch sight of it flying through the air. I wait, watch – and throw, well beyond 'em, deeper among the rubbish on the other side.

The gobbos turn that way.

'Come on,' says Paddy.

And they're over the other fence, all six of 'em, blundering through the rubbish. The moment they're out of sight, I'm over my fence and by the van, knife open. Two tyres'll do. No, make it three. Shit, make it four. Why not?

Zap! Then a sweet hiss.

Three more, then back over my fence and into the dip again. I'm breathing hard but I quiet myself, close the blade, put the knife back in my pocket, check the lane again.

Here they come, one by one, climbing back over the other fence. The grunt's last. He looks bombed out. The others are already by the van, waiting for him.

And I'm waiting for them.

Cos I haven't finished yet. But first someone's got to see what's happened. The grunt does it for me.

'The tyres,' he says.

They look round at him, then down at the wheels.

'Shit!' says one.

They go all the way round the van, muttering, swearing. But I'm watching Paddy's face. He hasn't said a word, hasn't shown a flicker of anger.

He's looking round him again, checking the lane with his torch.

'Spread out,' he says.

Yeah, good move, Paddy. Get 'em to spread out.

Only not you.

I need you here.

They're moving about the lane, slowly, flashing their beams this way and that. I keep low.

Come on, Paddy. I need you over here.

He's stopped, middle of the lane. Three of the gobbos have climbed back over the fence again to search the rubbish on the other side. The grunt and another guy have wandered off, checking the verges.

Paddy's still standing close to the van.

Come on, Paddy. I need you over here.

He speaks, not loud, like he knows he doesn't need to.

'She didn't put up much of a fight.'

He's staring towards my side of the lane. He can't see me. But he might as well be looking right into my face. Cos his words are going right to my heart. As he knows they are.

'You'll find her in a ditch.' He gives a mocking little laugh. 'If you want to bother looking, that is. I wouldn't waste my time if I were you. Life's short. Don't you agree?'

Yeah, Paddy. I agree.

I can see the other torches stabbing the night. But they're no danger. They're in another world. There's only two people in my world right now.

Me and Paddy.

He's looking in my direction, looking hard, and I'm wondering, Bigeyes – is this fate? Or is it me? Can I pull him here by mind alone?

Like that book I showed you.

The Will to Power.

Yeah, the will to power.

Only now it's different. I'm looking at you, Paddy, and I'm asking you – who's got the power now? Who's got the will?

He's still looking this way.

'Come on.' I'm whispering to him. 'Come on.'

He comes on, slow, unsure of himself, flicking the beam of his torch right and left. It falls over the rubbish piles behind me, falls over me even, but I'm still too low for him to see me.

He's close to the fence now.

I slip down to the right, keeping in the dip. The torch goes on searching, but it's missing me altogether. On the far side of the lane I hear the gobbos throwing rubbish about as they search the ground.

'Come on,' I whisper.

Paddy climbs over the fence. All I see of him now is the glare of the torch and beyond that a ghost of what he was. What does he see of me?

Nothing.

Cos I'm a ghost too. I'm doing what I do best. It's as easy as lifting wallets.

Only this time I'm lifting a man's life.

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