by Steve Voake
A faint noise made Kier spin around and he swept the torch beam across the dustsheets, looking for any sign of movement.
There it was again.
A muffled sound from somewhere in the corner.
Something was moving beneath the sheets.
Kier picked up some wood from the workbench, held the phone between his teeth and crept slowly towards the corner of the room. Raising the piece of wood above his head, he pulled back the dustsheet, ready to strike. But, to his surprise, he found himself staring at the gagged face of a young girl, bruised and blinking in the glare of torchlight.
‘Saskia!’ he gasped, ripping off the tape that was plastered across her mouth.
Saskia sat up and coughed into her hand.
‘You got my message then.’
‘Yeah, I got it,’ said Kier, untying the rope around her wrists. ‘What happened to you?’
‘Taxi driver tasered me,’ said Saskia.
‘He tasered you?’
‘Yeah. You know.’ She made her fingers into the shape of a gun. ‘Zapped me with a stun gun.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Yeah, ouch is right.’ Saskia wiped dust from the corner of her eye. ‘Took the curls right out of my hair.’
‘What happened to your face?’
Saskia rubbed her wrists.
‘That was Mr Mac and his mates. They wanted to know where you were and who I was working for.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I told him you were a figment of his overactive imagination. Don’t think he believed me though.’
Kier squeezed her hand.
‘That was brave of you.’
‘Nah, not really. After a few kicks there was a big commotion outside and they all went running off to find out what it was. I don’t suppose that had anything to do with you?’
‘I owed you one,’ said Kier. ‘Remember?’
Saskia got to her feet and looked around.
‘We should go,’ she said. ‘They were mad before. But now they’re going to be really mad.’
‘Wait,’ said Kier. ‘We still need to find out where they’re stashing the stuff. If we can do that, we’ve got him.’
‘Kier, it’s going to be like a wasps’ nest out there,’ said Saskia nervously. ‘They’ll be buzzing around all over the place. And believe me, that McIntyre is evil. We have to go, Kier. And we have to go now.’
‘Wait.’ Kier picked up the flask from the bench and sniffed it. ‘This is really bugging me. It smells like cleaning fluid or something. But why would McIntyre be cleaning doors?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Saskia, ‘and right now I don’t care. Let’s just go, OK? We can’t do anything if we’re dead.’
But as Kier replaced the flask on the worktop there was a sudden click and the room was flooded with light.
‘Stay where you are,’ said a voice, and Kier turned to see a middle-aged man standing in the doorway.
The man’s thinning blond hair was slicked back with gel and his shirt was unbuttoned beneath a dark suit, revealing a thick, expensive gold chain around his neck. He wore a smaller, matching chain around his wrist which jangled when he moved.
All of these things Kier noticed in the first couple of seconds.
But the thing he noticed most of all was that the man was holding a .357 Magnum revolver loaded with bullets that could punch a hole through toughened glass.
Kier decided he really didn’t want to find out what the bullets could do to him.
‘Who are you?’ Kier asked, still having enough presence of mind to put the phone back in his pocket and press Record.
‘My name’s McIntyre,’ said the man, ‘and either you take your hand out of your pocket or I’ll shoot it off.’
Kier did as he was told and stared in surprise. He had expected McIntyre to be the man from the photograph but – quite obviously – he wasn’t.
‘I’m guessing you must be Kier West. Am I right?’
‘Congratulations,’ said Kier. ‘You win again.’
The man smiled. ‘I always win,’ he said. ‘Just ask your dad.’ His smile grew wider. ‘Oh, that’s right. You can’t, can you?’
A chill ran through Kier’s blood.
‘So it was you,’ he whispered. ‘You killed my father.’
McIntyre nodded. ‘Enjoyed it too. Easy as shooting a rat in a barrel.’ He screwed up his face and Kier saw hatred glitter in his eyes. ‘But the other rat got away, didn’t it? And now it’s come sniffing around, ready to go squeaking off and telling the world my business.’
‘Your business,’ said Saskia, ‘is nothing but living off other people’s misery.’
‘Maybe it is,’ said McIntyre, ‘but then everyone has a choice in life, don’t you think? And if they happen to choose what I offer, then that’s up to them.’
‘My father didn’t choose to die,’ said Kier bitterly.
‘He chose to get in my way,’ replied McIntyre, ‘which is the same thing, as you are about to find out.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Saskia nervously. ‘The police are going to be here at any minute.’
‘I know they are, because I called them.’ McIntyre smiled. ‘Or rather I called my friend, Chief Superintendent Tyler. Just like I called him about all the other scum on my patch.’
McIntyre saw the surprise on their faces and his smile widened.
‘That’s right. Chief Superintendent Tyler knows the value of teamwork, you see. I scratch his back, he scratches mine. Perhaps that’s why he has the highest crime clear-up rate in England. In fact I hear he’s in line for some sort of award. Kind of ironic when you think about it.’
Kier remembered the police’s early arrival at the bank robbery, McIntyre getting tipped off about the hotel incident and the fact that the police didn’t seem particularly interested in pursuing him. Suddenly everything fell into place.
‘You set up the bank robbery?’
‘Of course.’ McIntyre shrugged. ‘Tyler needed something high-profile and some of his men were asking awkward questions. So I gave him what he wanted and he found his men something else to do. Not that they’d have uncovered anything. After all, there’s no law against owning a pile of doors.’
McIntyre lifted the gun and pointed it at Kier’s head.
‘Now remind me, what were we talking about again? Ah yes. Choices.’
Suddenly the smile was gone.
‘So go on. Choose.’
Kier swallowed.
‘Choose what?’
McIntyre ran his tongue over his lips, like a snake that senses its prey.
‘Who shall I shoot first? You or the girl?’
Kier knew McIntyre was a pro. He knew that, however quickly he crossed the room, McIntyre would still have time to squeeze the trigger and blow a hole in him. But then the smell of chemicals caught the back of his throat. He saw the liquid pooling around McIntyre’s feet and he came to a decision.
‘You look like a gambling man,’ said Kier, ‘so why don’t we flip for it?’
McIntyre shook his head. ‘Don’t think you’re talking your way out of this one.’
‘Come on,’ said Kier, sliding his hand into his pocket. ‘If these are my last few seconds on earth, then let’s at least make them interesting.’
McIntyre’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘Take your hand out of your pocket,’ he said. ‘Take it out now.’
‘Whatever you say,’ said Kier. ‘You’re the boss.’
As he pulled his hand from his pocket, Kier ripped a match from its cardboard book, scraped it along the rough striking panel and threw it to the floor. Before McIntyre had time to understand what was happening, the chemical solvent on the ground ignited, a ribbon of fire shot across the floor and then the pool beneath his feet erupted in a ball of flame.
For a few moments all was heat and chaos: McIntyre screamed as his clothes caught fire, the gun went off and the bullet blew out the light. Suddenly the room was plunged into darkn
ess, lit only by the flames that were engulfing McIntyre.
‘Come on!’ shouted Saskia. ‘Let’s go!’
But although part of Kier wanted to see McIntyre burn for what he had done, another part of him knew he couldn’t let that happen. His father had chosen not to kill McIntyre for the simple reason that he didn’t want to become like him.
Love is stronger than hate, Kier.
He couldn’t betray his memory now.
‘Kier, leave him!’ shouted Saskia.
‘No,’ said Kier. ‘I can’t.’
Pushing McIntyre to the ground, he threw himself on top of him and spread himself wide, desperately trying to smother the flames. The heat burned his skin as they rolled and struggled, the smell of smoke and scorched clothing filling the room. Then McIntyre twisted, rolled on top of Kier and pulled out a knife. And at that moment, Kier was afraid because he knew it was over and there was nothing he could do. But as McIntyre raised the blade above his head, Saskia’s foot flashed through the air and the knife clattered off into the corner of the room. Still spinning, she kicked McIntyre hard in the chest, slamming him against the wall. As he slumped forward, Kier saw flames flicker across the floor and begin to lick at the legs of the benches.
‘Now will you come?’
As Saskia pulled him to his feet and kicked open the door, Kier ran back, grabbed the semi-conscious McIntyre and dragged him out into the courtyard.
‘Leave him!’ shouted Saskia. ‘Just leave him!’
They were halfway across the lawn when they saw blue lights flashing outside the gates.
‘We’ve got visitors,’ said Saskia.
Kier noticed that the van full of doors had been hurriedly driven into the shadows and was now half-hidden behind a tree next to the wall.
‘Damn it,’ he said as he heard the sound of barking. ‘They’ve brought dogs.’
Two police officers were walking across the grass towards them, their torch beams criss-crossing in the warm night air. In front of them, two large Alsatians growled and strained at the leash.
‘Hey!’ shouted one of the officers. ‘Stay there!’
Saskia looked at Kier.
‘What do you think? Should we run?’
Kier shook his head.
‘We’ll never beat the dogs. But maybe McIntyre was bluffing – maybe the neighbours called them. Maybe we should tell them what we know.’
‘We can’t, Kier, not without admitting who we are.’ Saskia sounded desperate. ‘And we can’t prove a thing.’
‘In that case,’ whispered Kier, ‘you’d better think of something quick.’
The police officers stopped in front of them, holding the growling dogs by their collars.
‘Don’t mind us,’ said Kier. ‘We were just leaving.’
‘I don’t think so.’ The larger policeman studied Kier suspiciously. ‘I don’t suppose you’d happen to know anything about the car out front?’
‘Nope,’ said Saskia. ‘Absolutely not.’
The policeman kept his eyes on Kier.
‘Well, that’s funny,’ he said, ‘because we’ve been speaking to an old man who said he saw a boy of about your age driving down the street at around seventy miles an hour.’
‘Seventy miles an hour?’ said Kier. ‘No way. It was sixty-five, tops.’
‘Right,’ said the policeman. ‘So it was you.’
‘My friend’s life was in danger,’ Kier replied. ‘What would you have done?’
‘Take no notice of him, Officer,’ said Saskia, glancing sharply at Kier. ‘He’s still in shock. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Kier. ‘The man who lives here is—’
‘A respectable businessman,’ interrupted a voice, and Kier turned to see a dishevelled McIntyre standing behind him. ‘Good evening, Officers.’
The policeman looked him up and down.
‘And who might you be?’
McIntyre pushed past Kier and brushed dirt from his jacket.
‘I am the owner of this house and I found these two hooligans setting fire to my property. And you say they crashed a car into my gate as well?’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘I don’t know what the world is coming to, Officer, I really don’t. Ah,’ he added, turning and raising his hand. ‘Here’s someone who can help us clear this up.’
Kier turned to see a tall, wiry police officer walking towards them. He had silver crowns on the shoulders of his uniform. He also had a moustache. For a moment, Kier wondered why he looked so familiar.
Then it dawned on him.
He was looking at the man from the photograph.
‘Chief Superintendent Tyler,’ said McIntyre, holding out his hand. ‘So good of you to come.’
Kier watched Tyler nod and shake McIntyre’s hand, saw how he was ready to back up all his lies and knew there was no point in trying to explain anything.
‘All right, you two,’ said one of the other officers, reaching for his handcuffs. ‘I think you’d better come with me.’
Saskia looked at Kier and then at the police officer.
‘That’s not going to happen,’ she said.
At the same moment there was a loud explosion, the sound of breaking glass and an orange fireball rolled out of the windows into the courtyard behind them.
McIntyre, Tyler and the police officers ducked and covered their heads.
Kier and Saskia turned and ran.
‘Not that way!’ shouted Kier as another police car screeched to a halt outside the gates.
Saskia immediately changed direction and began running towards the trees. As Kier followed, he saw she was heading straight for the van parked next to the wall. Behind him he could hear the spit and crackle of flames, their long shadows flickering eerily across the grass.
‘Over there!’ shouted McIntyre, as the dogs barked and pawed at the ground.
Saskia wrenched the van door open, stood on the passenger seat and clambered on to the roof. Kier turned to see a police dog running towards him, ears flat against its head as it sped across the lawn.
Throwing himself into the van, he waited until the dog leapt before kicking the door open again. He was rewarded with a loud metallic clang, followed by a strangled yelp as the dog bounced back on to the grass. Kier grabbed the door frame, swung himself up and somersaulted on to the roof.
‘Wait,’ he said as Saskia began climbing towards the broken glass and razor wire. He took off his jacket and threw it on top of the wall.
‘Now go,’ he told her.
Glancing down, he saw the four men standing on the grass looking up at him.
‘All right, son,’ said one of the officers. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’
‘I wasn’t planning to,’ replied Kier. He stared at Tyler and McIntyre. ‘This isn’t over,’ he said, ‘not by a long shot.’
Then he turned and scrambled up on to the wall next to Saskia.
‘OK?’ she asked.
Kier nodded.
‘Go,’ he said.
Saskia took his hand and lowered herself towards the pavement, walking down the wall on the balls of her feet. When Kier’s arm was at full stretch, she let go and dropped with a thump. Seeing the police officers turn and run towards the gate, Kier hooked his blazer over the broken glass and jumped after her. There was a tearing sound as the material ripped, but it slowed him enough to ensure he landed in one piece.
‘Keep going!’ he shouted, chasing after Saskia as she raced past the gate where the police car was parked.
He heard angry shouts and then the squeal of tyres as the car reversed away from the kerb before accelerating down the street towards them. Another police car appeared at the far end of the road, siren wailing and blue lights flashing. It screeched to a halt and two more officers jumped out, cutting off their exit.
‘I think we’ve had it, Kier,’ said Saskia, looking around breathlessly. ‘They’ve got us trapped.’
‘No, they haven’t,’ said Kier. He turned to see that the d
og handlers had slowed right down, believing there was nowhere else for them to run. ‘Quick. In here.’
Grabbing Saskia’s hand, he dragged her past the roadworks and into the workmen’s shelter. Dropping to his knees, he pulled up a heavy manhole cover and pointed into the darkness.
‘Go,’ he whispered. ‘Go, go, go!’
For a moment, Saskia stared at him as though he was crazy. Then, without a word, she stepped on to the top rung of the ladder and disappeared down into the sewer.
The dogs were close now. Kier could hear their low growls and the scratching of their claws across the pavement.
‘Where did they go?’ someone shouted.
Dropping down into the hole, Kier slid the cover over his head and the sounds from the street instantly disappeared, as if someone had pulled the plug on a radio. They were replaced by the faint shuffle of Saskia’s footsteps in the darkness below.
‘It stinks down here,’ she called, her voice echoing around the cavernous space. ‘Where are we anyway?’
Kier screwed up his nose and smiled.
‘Right where we always are,’ he said. ‘But try not to step in too much of it.’
*
By the time they found an exit hole several hours later, Kier was down to his last few matches. As he cautiously stuck his head out into the road, he saw that the sky was starting to lighten in the east.
‘Look,’ he said, taking hold of Saskia’s hand and pulling her out. ‘I think it’s going to be a beautiful day.’
*
Later, as they sat in a coffee bar and watched the city coming alive, Saskia said, ‘I’m sorry we didn’t get to put McIntyre away, Kier. I know how much you wanted it. But that’s just life, isn’t it? I guess you can’t win them all.’
‘I guess not,’ said Kier.
He took a sip of espresso and smiled.
‘What?’ said Saskia.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all.’
Then he dialled the number he’d got from directory enquiries and his smile widened.
‘Who are you ringing?’ Saskia asked.
‘Just an old friend,’ he said.
The sergeant on reception wasn’t too helpful at first, but when Kier filled him in on the details of when they’d last met, he went and fetched Constable Doyle pretty quickly.
