by Mark Timlin
When I’d been hit I’d lost my gun, and I thought my time had come, when suddenly from behind me I heard a voice, amplified by a loud hailer, echo around the site. It seemed to come from behind me and to the right, but I couldn’t be sure. ‘Armed police, throw down your weapons,’ the voice ordered. And right then I knew what a condemned man feels like as a last-minute reprieve arrives at the place of execution, when the black hood is on and the hangman is about to spring the trap door.
The wide man found his gun and stood and aimed it in the direction that the amplified voice had come from. He fired and the silenced pistol kicked in his grip with a sound like a muted hand clap. Louder shots came from behind me and the wide man stepped back with a look of surprise on his face, dropped his gun, folded to the ground, kicked his feet for a few moments and went very still. The ginger man leapt from behind the car and grabbed Catherine. Holding her in front of him as a shield, he walked backwards, dragging her as he went, past the Mercedes and towards one of the scaffold-covered buildings. As soon as he touched her, the police fire stopped.
I cleared my head with a shake that sprayed blood down my shirt and scrambled for the Taurus. Endesleigh came running round the back of the Rolls, gun in hand, closely followed by Sutherland. Endesleigh ducked down and threw me back against the side of the car. ‘Shithead,’ he said. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?’
I sat and looked at him in a bemused fashion. Maybe not bemused, maybe stupid. Meanwhile Sutherland ran over to Lorimar, took one look and shook his head. He crabbed across the dirt to the wide man, picked up his Beretta, stashed it in one of his many pockets and touched the wide man’s throat. He came back to where Endesleigh and I were waiting. ‘Both gone, guv,’ he said.
‘Call it in,’ said Endesleigh. ‘And make sure that ginger-headed bastard doesn’t get away. With or without the woman, but particularly with.’
Sutherland nodded and loped off without a second glance at me.
‘How did you know … ?’ I asked at length.
‘We had a man in Curzon Street all night. While I was waiting for you to call, he saw you drive away in this thing.’ Endesleigh rapped on the side of the Rolls-Royce. ‘And five minutes later I get a call from David Pike screaming blue bloody murder that you’d locked him in his own safe, stolen a gun and the car, beaten up his chauffeur, left the ransom money and pissed off God knows where. Why didn’t you call me like we arranged?’
‘I knew it was going to get heavy.’
‘You put Catherine Pike’s life in danger. Luckily our man followed you, and had the nous to get directly on to me.’
‘She’s not Catherine Pike,’ I said. ‘Catherine Pike is dead. She’s been dead for years, poor cow. Lorimar, or one of his little firm, did for her when she wouldn’t play ball and come over here and scam Sir Robert. They disposed of the body so it couldn’t be identified and put in a ringer. Now she’s flipped out. She killed Lorimar. She practised a little DIY on his vocal chords.’
Endesleigh looked over at Lorimar’s body. ‘Jesus.’
‘That’s why I clobbered Vincent. There was no kidnap. He delivered her on a plate.’
‘You’re bleeding,’ said Endesleigh.
Tell me something I don’t know, I thought. I put my hand gingerly to the side of my head and it came away red with fresh blood. ‘I bet you passed all your observation tests at Scouts,’ I said as dryly as I could. I stood up and leaned into the open door of the Rolls, opened the glove compartment and found a pack of tissues. I looked in the mirror and saw that the bullet from the ginger man’s gun had nicked a quarter-inch piece out of my right ear lobe. I stuck a tissue to it to stem the flow and said to Endesleigh, ‘We’re wasting time.’
‘We nothing. This is police business. You’re hurt, and should be under arrest. You stay here.’
‘Not on your life. Where you go, I go. I’m in on this until the finish.’
He thought about it for a second. ‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘But if I get fired I hope you offer me a partnership.’
‘Just say the word.’
He was off and running like a bloody racehorse and I had the greatest difficulty keeping up, although I wasn’t going to let him know that. When we reached the building the ginger man was heading for when last seen, all I could see were black spots in front of my eyes, but I didn’t disgrace myself by throwing up, although my breathing might have been a little on the ragged side.
‘They’re up there, guv,’ said Sergeant Sutherland who made a pointed display of ignoring me, much to Endesleigh’s amusement.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Sure. Johnno and Bill saw them go in and they haven’t come out.’
‘I’m going up,’ said Endesleigh. ‘Who else is here?’
‘Nobody, thanks to him,’ replied Sutherland, and I think he meant me. ‘But there’s more on the way.’
‘Don’t endanger the woman,’ said Endesleigh. ‘I don’t want anyone taking pot shots if she’s within five yards of the ginger bloke.’
‘Do you want anyone to climb the scaffolding on the outside?’
Endesleigh thought about it. ‘No,’ he said. ‘If there’s too many of us up there, we’ll end up shooting at each other. You lot stay down here and wait for the rest. Perhaps he’ll come down of his own accord.’
‘Fat chance,’ said Sutherland.
‘And don’t make a move until you hear from me.’
‘OK, guv.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ I said.
‘I was afraid you’d say that. But I warn you, my first concern is the woman.’
‘Mine too.’
We went inside the building. It was a shell with floor and stairways in place but little else. The scaffolding was up so that outside work could be done. Because of the safety netting around the scaffolding, the interior of the building was cool and dark and green like the inside of a fish tank. There were two sets of stairs leading up, one at the front and one at the back of the building. I took the back.
The stairs were wide and we climbed them in tandem. Each time we came to a floor, we both peered across the bare concrete looking for any sign of life. As soon as we were sure it was clear we gave the high sign and started climbing again. There were ten floors in all. By the time we’d both reached the seventh floor I think we both realised that Ginger and Catherine were going to be on the roof.
When we got to the tenth floor we walked across to meet each other. There was only one way up to the roof itself, a narrow metal staircase just wide enough for one person to climb at a time. The stairs went right up to a hole in the roof. The hole was open to the sky. Ginger had chosen well.
‘I’ll go first,’ I said.
‘No, I will,’ insisted Endesleigh. ‘You’re a member of the public. You know the old motto: “To protect and serve”.’
‘If you insist.’
He clambered up the metal stairs in front of me, poked his head through the hole and looked across the roof. A bullet spanged against the concrete by his head and he ducked back. ‘He’s over on the corner, using some machinery and stuff as cover. She’s with him. We can wait him out. Stick our heads up every now and then. When he runs out of ammunition we’ll have him.’
‘We don’t know how much ammunition he’s got,’ I said. ‘He might save the last bullet for the woman. Is the scaffolding right up to the roof?’
‘And a bit above.’
‘So no snipers?’
‘No, they’ll never get a clear shot.’
‘Helicopter?’
‘A bit iffy,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to go down a couple of floors and come up the outside.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
‘You’re not volunteering?’
‘Can’t stand heights. I’ll stay here and attract his attention. He doesn’t like me.’
‘I’m amazed. Give me ten minutes.’
I looked at my watch. ‘Okay.’
He went back down the metal s
tairs then down the wider stairs towards the ninth floor and vanished from sight. I was dying for a cigarette but I’d lost them somewhere. I flipped out the cylinder of the Taurus, discarded the three empty cartridge cases and re-loaded with three of my spares. I stayed at the top of the stairs, keeping my head down. When the ten minutes were up, I risked a look through the hole in the roof. Ginger was looking straight at me. He was holding Catherine round the neck and using her and a cement mixer and some bags of cement as cover. He fired off two snap shots which came close enough for me to hear. I ducked back down and I could still see Catherine’s face. She was as white as a sheet and her blue eyes seemed to be burning out of her skull. She was disintegrating in front of me. I felt that terrible anger burning my guts again. I stuck my head out again and Ginger fired, and as a counterpoint to the slap of his silenced pistol I heard the deeper bark of a police-issue Colt from below.
I ducked down and back up in time to see him turn and fire over the edge of the roof. He let go of Catherine and she turned and lashed out at him with her nails. He screamed as her fingers raked his face. The gun went off harmlessly in the air and the breech of the Beretta blew back. Catherine was still too close to him for me to risk a shot. He pushed her and she stepped back. She lost her footing on the edge of the roof and fought for balance, her arms cartwheeling.
I pushed through the hole in the roof and ran towards her. She stepped back into space and her fingers caught at some loose netting which tore away from the scaffold. As she fell I caught her arm. The weight of her pulled me down onto the roof and the Taurus flew out of my grip, went over the edge and clattered down the scaffolding. The unfinished concrete cut into my chest and I felt the wound on my side tear open. Catherine was swinging like a pendulum on the end of my wrist. She started hitting and ripping at me with her other hand. I looked down and there was at least forty feet of space before the first platform of planks. If it was the same all the way round, I was done for. Endesleigh couldn’t possibly get up to the roof.
I looked into Catherine’s face and saw the madness burning in her eyes as they looked up at me. I turned my head and saw Ginger, blood pouring from the scratches on his face and a terrible smile on his lips, take aim at me. He snarled when he realised he was out of ammunition. He ejected the empty magazine, pulled another from his pocket, slapped it home and worked the breech to chamber a round. He brought the gun up and drew a bead on my head. I hung on to Catherine even though I knew it was over. I was so scared, I was hollow, and I knew if I shook I’d rattle. I was too frightened even to close my eyes. They were riveted to the big black hole in the ugly, bulbous silencer screwed to the barrel of the Beretta. Then I noticed movement at the far side of the roof and Endesleigh’s head and gun hand poked over the top of the roof. Thank Christ, I thought.
Endesleigh fired and the bullet hit Ginger just as he squeezed the trigger of the Beretta. I saw his face register surprise and the gun moved as he fired. I felt as if I’d been kicked in the leg, hard. Ginger swung round and fired at Endesleigh. Endesleigh fired again and the ginger man went down on one knee and fired back. A bullet hit him in the shoulder and knocked him half round, but he kept firing, the big gun shaking in his fist. Another bullet went through his neck and blood fountained. He aimed one last futile shot before he fell forward onto his face.
I stayed where I was and, believe me, the concrete I was lying on felt good enough to eat.
Catherine was still slashing at my hand and I felt as if every tendon and muscle in my arm was being ripped out, and my leg burned as if it was on fire. I was close to blacking out and I felt Catherine’s hand slip through mine. I concentrated hard on holding her. Endesleigh clambered onto the roof, kicked the Beretta far away and ran to me. He leant over the edge of the roof and reached down to take some of the strain of Catherine’s weight. Together we pulled her back onto the roof.
This ebook edition first published
in 2013 by No Exit Press
an imprint of Oldcastle Books
P O Box 394,
Harpenden, AL5 1XJ, UK
noexit.co.uk
@NoExitPress
First published in 1990 by HEADLINE BOOK PUBLISHING PLC
All rights reserved
© Mark Timlin 1990
The right of Mark Timlin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN
978-1-84344-176-2 (print)
978-1-84344-177-9 (epub)
978-1-84344-178-6 (kindle)
978-1-84344-179-3 (pdf)
Typesetting by Avocet Typeset, Somerton, Somerset
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