The girl froze like she’d been caught in Medusa's glare and turned into stone. Her eyes widened, then the realisation of what Raynor had just done hit her like a wrecking ball.
‘Shit. Dean. Leave it! We’ve got to get away from here.’
Sam saw an opportunity and swung a right hook. Just from the shoulder, not pulling back so far as to give away the play. It connected with Dean’s jaw and sent him staggering sideways. It was nothing to Dean. He was well accustomed to receiving punches to his face, but not usually so precisely delivered. He looked at Sam, grinned, then ran straight at him, launching himself through the air and landing heavily on Sam.
That’s when Sam realised it wasn’t going to be a fight, it was going to be a street brawl. Why did he think otherwise?
The two men landed heavily and cheers erupted from the onlookers. This was obviously Dean’s turf, and Sam was going to have a hard time getting away from here in the unlikely event that he won the fight.
Sam started laying body shots at Dean, who was now on top of him. It was all he could do to stop getting pinned down. If Dean stopped him from moving his arms, he’d rain blows to Sam’s face until Sam was out cold.
A girl appeared. Mid-twenties in white stilettos. She grabbed Dean. She looked scared.
‘Dean, Babe, we’ve gotta go. Get off him.’
She pulled at Dean, but he wasn’t going to stop having his fun. Dean shook her off and gave Sam an opening. He rolled his body as much as he could as sent Dean toppling.’
Dean stood and turned to the girl.
‘Now look what you’ve done, you stupid bitch!’ He shouted.
His face was contorted with fury which gave Sam encouragement. Never fight with anger, you’ll make mistakes. Control your breathing, control your movements, think three blows ahead.
The girl didn’t give up.
‘We have to go Dean! Something bad is going to happen.’
She didn’t want to mention Raynor, the fact that he’s The Trashman, or that he’d just dropped a package in the bin. Not through fear of causing panic, but through fear of being laughed at.
‘Not until I’ve finished him off!’ Exclaimed Dean, pointing backwards to where Sam had just been lying. He turned round and Sam was upright, looking confident. So much so that Gaz and the other lout had moved back out of harm’s way. Dean let out a roar of anger and charged. Sam stepped out of the way at the last moment and let the other man charge past.
This just enraged Dean more as he turned again to face Sam. His face was getting redder. Sam saw another chance to try and end the fight without either of them getting hurt. He raised both hands and tried to placate the other man. He said
‘Look, Dean, I don’t want any more trouble. I have to stop that man.’
Sam pointed down the road to where Raynor was picking up his bike.
‘No fucking chance!’ Said Dean, and charged once more. As Dean approached, Sam stepped back, moving his right leg to be in line with his left, parallel to the oncoming man. He twisted his body clockwise, now positioning himself side-on to his assailant. Dean would have run straight past, but in the blink of an eye, Sam swung his right arm in an arc, his right thumb tucked in beneath the fingers of his right hand. A classic ridge-hand strike. As Dean got level with him, the side of Sam’s right hand connected with Dean’s throat. The power of the arced movement and the centrifugal force built up during the rotation of the arm sent Deans legs flying from underneath him as they tried to keep running after his neck and head had stopped moving. He landed heavily on his backside and instantly grabbed his throat with both hands, gasping for air.
Dean pointed at Gaz, then at Sam. ‘Get him.’ He managed to say between breaths. Gaz looked at Dean and shook his head, and then he looked at Sam who was now in a fighting stance, waiting for the next attack.
A siren could be heard in the distance, heading toward the crowd. ‘Do it!’ Dean shouted to Gaz as best as he could. Gaz looked at the third, as yet unnamed man.
‘You’re up Brains.’
Obviously one of those ironic nicknames. Thought Sam.
Brains thought for a second, eyed Sam, and said ‘Yeah, why not?’
A massive grin split his face as he stepped into the makeshift ring. Sam saw an opportunity to finish things quickly, while Brains tried to encourage the crowd with an over-the-top American wrestling style entry; jumping up and down, clapping his hands, shouting ‘Easy, easy.’
Sam didn’t wait, he took a step toward Brains, right foot forward, crouched and swept his left leg around just above ground-level, taking the other man’s legs from beneath him. Brains fell heavily, with a loud huff as the wind left him. Sam stood, made sure there wasn’t going to be any more trouble, and walked away. The crowd parted to let him through. Quiet mumbles of disbelief echoed around the crowd. This lot had never seen Dean and his cronies get beaten so easily.
The sirens got closer, the blue lights reflecting off the buildings as the vehicle neared the scene. The crowd started to scatter, leaving Dean and Brains on the floor while Gaz walked toward Dean offering a hand to help him up.
Sam got back in his car and started driving away just as the police van stopped. In his rear-view mirror he could see Dean, Gaz and Brains surrounded by gun-wielding policemen.
‘You still there, Dave?’ Sam asked, hoping the call was still connected.
‘Yes mate. Still tracking him. He’s heading down Charing Cross Road, toward the Strand. He might get held up if it’s busy.’
‘Get Mick back on the traffic lights, will you mate?’
Chapter Forty-Six
Mickey slammed the palms of his hands on the desk. Just about everything on the desk shook with the force of the blow. ‘Dammit!’ he shouted.
Dave looked over.
‘What’s up mate?’ He asked.
‘It’s Raynor’s bloody server. He’s running a virtual machine for every bomb.’
‘And what does that mean?’ Dave asked.
Lucy Green strolled across the room to Mickey’s desk and looked over his shoulder, resting a hand on the back of his chair.
‘Oh, that’s clever.’ She said, almost in awe.
‘No shit.’ replied Mickey, slightly agitated. ‘Sorry.’ he added, trying not to take out his frustration on Lucy. Dave was now making his way over to the desk to join in the conversation.
‘So what does that actually mean?’ he asked.
Mickey started to explain.
‘Well each bomb is running on its own instance of Windows, within the main instance of Windows which starts when the machine boots up.’
Lucy interjected.
‘It’s very popular in the corporate world. In fact, our IT Department run virtual servers for different aspects of the business. It can help isolate different business functions.’
Dave was trying to keep up with the excitable pair. Mickey took the baton from Green.
‘Also, if you have a problem, you can just take down the virtual machine and not the whole server.’
Dave rubbed his chin.
‘Okay, I think I get it.’ He said, ‘so why not just shut down the virtual machines?’
‘I like the way you’re thinking.’ Said Mickey.
‘It’s the obvious solution.’ Added Lucy.
Are they turning into a bad comedy double act? Thought Dave.
‘But.’ Said Dave. ‘I know when there’s a “but” coming.’
Mickey turned to Lucy, who gestured for him to provide the answer, which he did.
‘But each virtual machine has its own security which I have to get round. They also have shut-down passwords.’
Dave thought about this for a moment before asking.
‘Hang on. A password to shut-down? What’s the point of that?’