Manning nodded. He looked shell-shocked, and who could blame him? I’d been in situations like this before and was trained to deal with them, but even so, I was working hard to keep my own fear in check.
I looked back into the darkness, knowing I had ten rounds left, and at least three gunmen to kill.
They weren’t good odds.
Harry Pheasant was enjoying himself for the first time in years. At boarding school he’d been mercilessly bullied by bigger kids and by the time he’d grown big enough to fight back school was over. He’d tried to join the army but failed the fitness test, and ended up becoming the person he’d definitely never wanted to be: a divorced office drone (albeit one with his own business) whose best years, which had never been that good, were resolutely behind him.
As a boy he’d loved the quote from Mussolini ‘Better to live one day as a lion than a thousand years as a sheep’, and he’d written it all over his text books and even on a piece of A4 paper taped to the wall above his bed at home. For years he’d been a sheep desperate to prove his worth, but now, in the hours since he’d been with Hugh Manning, at last he’d found his purpose.
And tonight, he’d truly proved himself. As soon as he’d seen the SUV appear on the camera feed on his phone he’d known that he was going to see action, and rather than feel fear he’d been ready for it. He was alive. He was a lion. And now he’d even shot one of the bad guys.
Crouched down in the trees like a World War Two commando, his ears ringing from the noise, he reloaded the last shell into the Mossberg and prepared to unload more withering gunfire on the enemy, knowing that he was probably going to be in a lot of trouble with the authorities, and not really caring.
But as he stood up and tucked the stock into his shoulder, he sensed rather than heard movement behind him. He swung round fast, saw nothing, and wondered if he’d imagined it. And then, out of the corner of his eye, a shadow came out of the darkness to his side. He just had time to see an oldish man with small dark eyes before he felt a loud pop in his ear and his head jerked to one side as if it had been yanked, then everything went black.
We were hiding with the lake behind us and the fence to our right so whichever way the gunmen approached we would see them coming, and because of the height of the reeds they wouldn’t be able to see us until they were only a few yards away. And they were going to have to attack soon. They might have suppressors on their weapons, but my shots and those of Manning’s friend would have alerted people, even in a place as isolated as this one, which meant they couldn’t afford to hang around for ever.
We’d been betrayed. It couldn’t have come from Manning’s side, otherwise he’d have been dead already. That only left my side, and I knew it wasn’t Tina. And yet I couldn’t believe it was Dan either. He’d been chasing the Kalamans for years. Why suddenly join forces with them now? But the stark truth was that there were no other candidates, and as Sherlock Holmes once famously said, ‘when you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’. One way or another they’d got to him, which meant he could no longer be trusted.
I unclipped the mike he’d given me and let it drop into the water, then reached for my phone before realizing it was still in the car where I’d thrown it after trying to call Dan.
I was about to ask Manning for his but then I tensed, seeing movement on both sides of the building. The gunmen were coming. They were keeping low and close to the walls, making them hard to see in the darkness, but the thing about these guys was they weren’t professional killers. They were thugs. Very well-armed ones, but thugs nonetheless, without obvious military training. I could see two of them, one on either side of the building, but not the third. I scanned the gloom, saw no suspicious movement, and faced down the Walther’s sights at the gunman nearest to me, trying hard to ignore the coldness of the water. As the gunman reached the edge of the building, he moved his silenced machine pistol in an arc across the lake, as if by doing so he’d make us jump up in panic.
‘When I start firing, roll away from me and then lie absolutely still,’ I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, my finger tensing on the trigger. ‘Do you understand?’
Manning managed a barely audible yes and then, as the gunman moved the arc of his machine pistol away from us, I fired off three rounds in rapid succession, their noise shattering the silence. Immediately I rolled away, seeing Manning do the same, as several wild bursts of automatic gunfire tore up the water a few yards behind me. The shooting was inaccurate. It’s hard to keep machine pistols stable, and it’s also hard to hit moving targets in the darkness, especially when they have good cover.
I kept rolling then stopped and peered through the reeds.
Twenty yards away, the gunman I’d fired at was lying on his back, moaning and holding his shoulder, his weapon beside him. No one else was visible. Now they were down to two, and surely they couldn’t stay here much longer. I motioned for Manning to stay put, with his head down, and continued crawling through the water, away from where I’d fired the shots.
And then I heard it above the ringing in my ears. The sound of a car pulling up in front of the building. If they’d brought in reinforcements we were finished. I only had seven rounds left and we had nowhere to run.
But, as I saw the two figures emerge from the shadows, I realized it was worse than that.
Fifty-eight
Dan had been sitting in his car staring straight ahead in a near daze when the dull booms of a shotgun rang out, followed a few seconds later by rapid pistol fire. He’d taken a deep breath and his eyes had filled with tears. He’d never thought the day would come when he’d stand by knowing that he’d sent a good man to his death. The whole car, his whole body, everything about him, reeked of betrayal.
On the way down here his thirteen-year-old daughter Lara had finally found the time to call him. For the first time in his life he hadn’t wanted to talk to her, but he also knew there was a possibility that the Kalamans might kill him too and so he’d taken the call.
They’d only chatted for a few minutes but for Dan it had been heartbreaking. Lara had wanted to know why he couldn’t work it out with her mum. He’d tried to explain as best as he could that sometimes that was just the way things were – some relationships just weren’t meant to last – but the important thing was that he would always love her and her sister with all his heart. ‘You two are the most important people in my whole world,’ he’d said, almost choking with emotion.
Lara had asked when she and Florence could come and stay with him, but the thing was Dan couldn’t bear to have them come to his dingy one-room flat and see quite how low he’d fallen. Even so, he’d promised it would be soon, and that he’d take them out to Nando’s one evening next week.
‘You’re the best dad in the world,’ she’d told him, and as the tears had streamed down his face he’d told her he loved her one more time and ended the call before she knew he was crying.
He wasn’t the best at anything. He was a fraud, an adulterer and, worst of all, a traitor.
He’d been ordered by the man he assumed was Mr Bone to stay nearby in case he was needed. He couldn’t understand what they could possibly need him for but, as the shooting stopped, his phone had started ringing. It was the number Mr Bone had called him from earlier and, taking a deep breath, he’d picked up and been given a further set of instructions.
And now here he was, in the shadow of an abandoned building facing a perfectly still lake that stretched out into the darkness, with Mr Bone standing a few feet behind him, holding a pistol with a suppressor attached. Off to Dan’s left, a black man in a scarf and combat gear was crouched down by a tree pointing an automatic weapon in the direction of the lake, while to his right a white man all in black lay on his back whimpering and holding on to his shoulder. Blood pooled on the ground beside him.
‘Move forward so Mason can see you,’ hissed Mr Bone. ‘He’s somewhere in those reeds. You tell him to give up Manning
now. If he does, Mason lives, and you live. If he doesn’t, you both die now. And your children die later tonight.’
Dan could hear the tension in Mr Bone’s voice. Last night, when he’d confronted him at Vicky’s flat, he’d been full of confidence. But it was obvious things had gone very badly wrong with the ambush. When Dan had parked his car just now he’d seen two bodies lying on the ground, and there was no sign of Ray or Manning. There was also no way that Bone and his surviving men could afford to stay here much longer. This had to be wrapped up very soon before the police arrived.
Dan walked past the wounded man and out of the shadow of the building. His eyes scanned the reed bed lining the lake but he could see nothing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a third gunman crouched down on the other side of the building and, although a scarf was pulled up over his face like the others, Dan recognized him by his shock of blond hair as the man who’d handed him the knife used to kill Vicky the previous night.
‘Speak,’ hissed Bone from behind him. ‘Fast.’
Dan took a deep breath. ‘Ray, can you hear me? I’m so sorry for this. They framed me for murder, and they threatened my children.’
‘Tell him to give up Manning now or I’ll cut your children’s eyes out myself,’ Bone told him.
Dan thought of Lara and Florence, his beloved children, and he felt the anger building in him. This man, this creature, behind him had to be stopped or he would always be a danger to his family. Suddenly, and very clearly, Dan realized there was no future for him. It was over. But he could do something for others, and atone for his sins. Then maybe God would forgive him.
He took another deep breath. ‘There are three gunmen, Ray,’ he called out. ‘One to my left, one to my right, and one behind. Good luck.’
And with that, he turned and charged the man who’d tormented him these past twenty-four hours.
Almost immediately Dan felt something strike his shoulder like a punch, followed by an intense burning, but adrenalin and anger were driving him on, and he kept moving forward, head down, an angry bellow coming from his mouth. Another round struck him in the gut, a third tore through his cheek, but momentum was carrying him now and he saw the panicked expression on Bone’s face. And then, for the second time in less than forty-eight hours, Dan launched the fist he’d always sworn he’d never use in anger again, and smashed Bone full in the face, just as a fourth round struck him somewhere in the chest.
I saw it all happen from my position in the water. Dan charging the man behind him, the shots being fired, and the two of them going down. The whole thing lasted no more than a couple of seconds but in that time I saw one of the gunmen, who’d been crouching out of sight behind a tree, instinctively jump up and turn towards Dan.
It was a mistake on his part. With a cold fury I turned the Walther so he was in my sights and opened up with three shots, feeling a grim satisfaction as he cried out in pain and went down, somehow managing to land in a sitting position facing me, his gun spraying bullets wildly. I fired another shot and hit him in the face just as another spray of bullets from somewhere off to my left stitched across the water, the last one missing my position by less than a foot. Whoever had fired them was a better shot than the others, but he’d still have difficulty hitting a moving target, so I rolled over and scrambled to my feet, running low through the reeds to draw his fire away from Manning.
That was when I saw him coming towards me across the grass, his pace fast yet controlled, a shock of blond hair standing out in the gloom as he aimed his gun at me. I dived forward as he opened up, landing in the mud at the edge of the lake and rolling round to face him, cracking off a shot that went wide as he fired again, his bullets sending up clods of earth just in front of me as they ricocheted off the bank. I fired again, a single shot, trying to throw him off guard, and saw that he’d run out of ammo. I had one shot left and I was on my feet in an instant, running at him, holding the Walther two-handed as he went for something in the back of his waistband.
Only ten metres separated us and he jumped out of the way, losing his footing and falling on to his side as I fired my final round, the shot missing him, and the slide on the Walther locked back, showing both of us that my gun was empty.
The blond man put a hand in his waistband and yanked out a pistol, but before he could take aim I threw mine at his face, hitting him on the forehead. He cried out in pain, fell back and let off another couple of shots, both of which almost hit me, and then I was on him, yanking back his gun hand so the weapon was no longer pointed at me and trying to butt him in the face.
But he was fast and strong and he moved his head to one side and thrust upwards, pushing me off. We rolled over, struggling. I lost my grip on his gun hand and then he was on top of me. Once again I grabbed his wrist, forcing the gun away from me, but he had the advantage now and, as I struggled beneath him, he pinned my other arm with his knee, and used both hands to force his gun hand free.
But before he could turn the gun on me he was grabbed from behind and yanked backwards by a screaming Hugh Manning.
‘You killed my wife, you bastard!’ he yelled, digging his fingers into the gunman’s eyes.
The gunman grunted in pain and immediately brought the gun round to shoot Manning even though he couldn’t see him properly. But at the last second I launched myself upwards, grabbed his wrist and pulled it down just at the moment he pulled the trigger. The gun went off with a deafening bang, hitting the gunman in the neck. Manning jumped backwards out of the way and the blond man let go of the gun and made a choking sound as his throat filled with blood.
Still underneath him, I fumbled round for the dropped weapon, grabbed the handle and shoved the barrel under his chin before he could move out of the way.
There was no mercy in me tonight. I pulled the trigger and blew the top of his head off, pushing him off me as he toppled on to his side, already dead.
Staying on the ground, I looked around quickly just in case there was still a threat, but there was nothing and no one I could see.
I’d been partially deafened by all the shooting, and there was a loud and incessant ringing in my ears, but even so I caught the faint muffled sound of a car starting.
‘Stay there,’ I called to Manning, who was sitting down staring in shock at the corpse of the man I’d just shot. ‘And get right down on the ground.’
Moving slowly, as if every muscle in his body had stiffened up, he did as he was told while I jumped up, still holding the blond man’s gun, and ran round the side of the building.
The gunman I’d shot in the shoulder was in the process of crawling over to his weapon. At least that’s what it looked like. I was operating pretty much on autopilot now, using all my old military training to neutralize any threat, so, without even slowing, I leaned down as I passed and shot him once in the head at point-blank range. Just ahead of me I could see Dan lying on his side. He wasn’t moving. Next to him was a crumpled fedora hat but no sign of the man who’d worn it.
As I rounded the corner, though, I saw one of the two SUVs the attackers had come in reversing rapidly towards the road with its lights on full beam. It swung into a turn and I took a shooting stance and opened fire as it pulled away. At least one round hit a window, but the SUV continued to accelerate and a second later it disappeared from view behind the trees. I could just about make out the path of the headlights as they rounded the big bend, moving fast, before fading into the darkness.
I cursed and ran over to my car, thinking about giving chase, but he already had a good start on me and I wouldn’t know which way he’d turned once I got to the main road. Plus I didn’t want to leave Manning behind. Instead, I grabbed my phone from between the front seats and ran over towards Dan, feeling a rush of hope when I saw that not only was he still alive but actually crawling along the ground in the direction of the lake.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t angry with him. If, as he’d said, they’d threatened to harm his children, I could hardly blame him for doing what he�
�d done.
But my relief turned to shock when I saw him reach out and grab one of the discarded machine pistols before rolling on to his back and propping the barrel under his chin. His pale shirt was stained red and, as I got closer to him, I saw blood pouring out of a hole in his face. He looked weak, and almost delirious, but he still managed to keep hold of the pistol. As I approached he said something to me but I couldn’t make out what it was.
‘It’s all right, mate, I’m here now,’ I said, crouching down beside him as the hearing returned in one of my ears. ‘Give me the gun.’
I started to reach out for it but something in his eyes stopped me.
‘Don’t, Ray,’ he said, forcing out the words. ‘It’s over for me.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ I said, trying to take control of the situation. ‘We can work things out.’ I smiled at him. ‘We’ve always managed it so far.’
He looked at me imploringly. ‘They were blackmailing me. They killed a girl I was seeing, made it look like I’d done it …’ He paused and turned his head to cough, spitting out a thick trail of blood and saliva.
I thought about going for the gun but stopped myself. ‘Dan, it’s going to be OK,’ I said, my voice cracking.
‘They threatened my girls as well,’ he continued. ‘I couldn’t have that, Ray.’
‘I know. I understand.’
‘You don’t. You can’t do unless you have them yourself.’ He paused to spit out more blood. ‘You’ve got to do something for me. When this story comes out, don’t let them ruin my name. Please.’ He reached out with his free hand and took my arm in a surprisingly firm grip, looking me right in the eyes. ‘And protect my kids from the Kalamans. Promise me you’ll do that.’
I wanted to tell him to put the gun down and let me call an ambulance, that he could still be the one to protect his kids, not me. But instead I told him what he wanted to hear. ‘Of course I’ll protect them. With my life.’
He squeezed my arm and tried to smile. ‘Thank you. Did you get Bone?’
The Hanged Man (Bone Field 2) Page 27
