by Shaun Hutson
He'd been drunk when he'd arrived at her flat the previous night. At first she'd tried to resist his inebriated advances, trying to persuade him to go to bed and sleep it off but he'd struck her with the back of his hand. She leaned closer to the mirror, relieved to see he hadn't marked her face. It was her back and arms which he'd bruised. Mottled patches of blue skin showed vividly beneath her shoulder blades and on her upper arms. She gently touched the damaged areas, wincing as she did so.
Harrison had pushed her into the bedroom in his drunken rage, frustrated by his own inability to remove his trousers. She'd tried to calm him but it had been useless. He'd managed to wriggle them down as far as his thighs then, tearing her housecoat open, he'd penetrated her, thrusting violently until he climaxed. Then he'd passed out.
She'd lain beneath him, sickened by his very presence, finally managing to roll his heavy form off her. She hadn't attempted to get him into bed, merely thrown a blanket over him and left him on the floor.
The sounds of retching had awoken her that morning but she had not left her bed.
Now, Harrison sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and nursing a hangover while Tina got dressed.
She pulled on a leather skirt, stepped into a pair of high heels and sat down to do her make-up.
As she reached into her handbag for her mascara she caught sight of the .25 Beretta in the bottom of the bag.
She looked towards the bedroom door, then carefully took the small pistol out, holding it in her hand, snaking her index finger through the trigger guard and pressing gently. She studied her own reflection in the dressing table mirror for a moment before dropping the gun back into her bag.
Not now.
Not yet.
She began applying her make-up.
'What are you doing today?'
The voice startled her and she caught sight of Harrison standing in the doorway. His voice was even more gravelly than usual and there were dark rings beneath his eyes, as if someone had coloured them with charcoal during the night. He looked ten years older than usual. Closer now to fifty than forty.
'I'm going shopping,' she told him.
'Not on your own you're not,' he replied. 'I'll send someone with you.'
'Frank, I'll be all right.'
He walked towards her, gripping her shoulder a little too hard.
'You've got to be careful,' he reminded her. Then he turned and headed back into the sitting room where she heard him using the phone. He returned a moment later.
'Carter and Mendham are on their way. They'll go with you,' he said.
She suppressed a smile at the mention of Carter's name.
'They'll be bored, trailing round shops with me,' she said.
'I don't pay them to enjoy themselves,' Harrison said, moving towards her once more. He began massaging her neck and, again, she winced slightly as she felt his fingers digging just a little too roughly into her flesh. 'Don't want anything happening to my little girl, do I?’ He smiled, bent forward and tried to kiss her but she pulled away slightly.
The smile vanished from his face and she saw the anger in his eyes. Tina stroked his cheek placatingly.
'You don't want to spoil my make-up do you?' she said, trying to sound as carefree as she could. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, hoping that simple gesture of supplication would be enough.
The smile returned and he reached for her hand, kissing that instead.
'What about you, Frank?' she asked, relieved as he wandered out of the bedroom. 'What are you going to do with yourself?'
'I've got some business to attend to,' he said. 'I'll probably see you tonight.'
She finished her make-up and pulled on a yellow blouse, leaving the top three buttons undone. Then she walked into the sitting room where Harrison was glancing at the newspaper. He looked up, running appraising eyes over her. He frowned.
'Do your blouse up,' he told her, pointing at her with one accusatory finger. 'I don't want every horny fucker looking at you. It's bad enough that you walk around with no bra.'
She fastened the third button, relieved when she heard the doorbell ring.
Carter smiled broadly as she let him in. He nodded a greeting to his boss and told him that Mendham was in the car outside.
'Billy's on his way to pick you up, Frank,' Carter added.
Carter and Tina turned to leave.
`Carter.'
He froze.
'You take care of her, right?' Harrison said.
The driver nodded, pulling the door closed behind him.
Harrison crossed to the window and watched as Tina climbed into the back of the car and the Citroen pulled away.
But Harrison was not the only observer.
Other eyes had seen them go.
Thirty-One
Pat Mendham felt his cheeks colour as Tina held up the miniscule knickers before him. He coughed and tried to look away, glancing down at his shoes and then across at another of the rows of clothes which surrounded him. A particularly beautiful young woman dressed in only a white blouse and tight white trousers squeezed past him, trailing a long nightdress, on her way to the changing room.
Tina picked out another pair of panties and a matching suspender belt and held them up for Mendham's inspection.
'What do you think, Pat?' she said, trying to hide her smile, something which was even more difficult to do when she saw how deep a shade of scarlet her escort was turning.
He grunted something unintelligible and nodded.
Standing in the lingerie department of Top Shop watching Tina picking out items of underwear was not his favourite way of passing a morning.
'Why don't you go back to the car and wait for me?' she said, smiling, finally taking pity on him.
He shook his head.
'Frank said I was to stay with you all the time,' he said, trying to move aside as two girls pushed past him clutching bras and knickers..
'I doubt if anyone will try to attack me in here,' Tina said but her attempts at reassurance were wasted. Mendham merely shrugged.
'I'm only doing what I was told,' he answered.
Tina picked out a couple of pairs of stockings and some more panties and headed for the cash desk. Mendham wandered along beside her like an obedient dog, reaching up to loosen his top button, apologising as he bumped into a woman who was holding a pair of French knickers in front of her.
Tina chuckled and walked on.
Carter slowed the car down as he passed the entrance to the shop, glancing through the hordes of people, trying to catch sight of Tina and Mendham as they emerged from the melee. No sign of them yet. He drove on, ignoring the blaring of a hooter when he pulled out into the other lane.
He'd dropped them off about fifteen minutes ago, driven up Oxford Street, swung the car round and come back down again, waiting for them to come out. Twice he'd been mistaken for a taxi, the second time by a large American woman who'd actually got into the passenger seat before he'd had time to tell her to fuck off. Bloody yanks, Carter thought, glancing to either side of him as he drove up the busy thoroughfare. Shoppers clogged the pavements on both sides like ranks of disorderly troops.
Carter turned the car sharply, narrowly avoiding an oncoming bus. He smiled as he saw the driver's furious expression in the rear view mirror. He drove past the shop on the other side of the road, once more gazing towards the entrance. Carter noticed Pat Mendham as he walked gratefully off the escalator which carried patrons up to ground level. Tina followed a few paces behind, her arms full of bags. The driver looked appreciatively at her as she stood with Mendham waiting for the Citroen to pull up.
Carter signalled that he'd seen them, drove on a few more yards and turned, bringing the car to a halt close by.
Mendham opened the door for Tina and she slid into the back seat.
She smiled at Carter who returned the gesture, grinning even more broadly as Mendham slumped, sweating, in the passenger seat beside him.
'Fuck that,' he said, wiping his brow with
a handkerchief. 'Next time I'll drive and you can go in.'
Tina laughed.
'I don't think Pat approved of my choice of underwear, Ray,' she said. 'Doesn't your wife wear that kind of thing, Pat?' she asked him.
'My Mrs couldn't fit the cheek of her arse inside your jeans, let alone those ...' he struggled for the word. 'Those knickers. Christ, I've seen bigger napkins.'
Tina laughed again.
'Where to now?' Carter asked.
'Selfridges,' she told him, looking through the bags, pleased with her purchases. She'd paid for everything with the credit cards Frank had given her; it was no less than she deserved she told herself. He'd want to see what she'd bought, to see her model it. And then? She shuddered slightly.
Carter turned the car once more and headed back down Oxford Street towards Selfridges, spotting the flags which flew from its roof, as they drew nearer.
There was a set of traffic lights ahead, the red light glowing. Carter slowed down.
The white Astra alongside him slowed down too.
'What are you buying in there? Mendham asked suspiciously, nodding in the direction of the store.
'Only shoes,' Tina told him. 'Even your wife must wear shoes.'
They all laughed.
Carter was still laughing when he saw the back window of the Astra being wound down. He saw the three men inside looking across at the occupants of the Citroen.
The driver was grinning at him, mouthing words that Carter couldn't make out.
He nudged Mendham who also glanced at the other vehicle.
It was he who saw the shotgun.
Thirty-Two
Mendham opened his mouth to shout a warning but his exhortations were drowned by the thunderous retort of the Remington.
Three bursts from the pump action shotgun struck the Citroen in quick succession.
The first blasted a hole in the rear door. The second punched in the back window, showering Tina with glass.
Hundreds of tiny shards were blown inwards and she screamed as she felt some of them cutting into the skin of her face and arms.
'Get down,' roared Carter, fumbling for his automatic.
She needed no second bidding. Tina threw herself to the floor of the car, cutting her knees on the shattered glass but covering her head against a renewed assault.
It was the third discharge which did the most damage.
As Mendham pulled the .45 from his shoulder holster the concentrated wad of buckshot caught him in the shoulder. It shattered his clavicle and tore away a large portion of his trapezius muscle. Blood jetted from the savage wound and Mendham moaned as he slumped forward in his seat.
Carter stepped on the accelerator, unconcerned that the lights were still red.
The back wheels of the Citroen spun for a second, screaming on the road, then the vehicle shot forward as if fired from a cannon.
Mendham was jerked back in his seat, the jolt to his ruined shoulder making him yell in pain.
Carter gripped the wheel tightly, guiding the car round and between two other vehicles which were crossing diagonally in front of him. He glanced in the rear view mirror to see that the Astra was following.
All eyes had turned to watch the tableau but Carter had only one thought. To get clear of the men who were trying to kill them. He pressed down even harder on the accelerator until it seemed his foot would go through the floor of the car.
It roared on, Mendham still moaning in agony in the front seat, Tina still hunched behind Carter, shaking as she felt a thin trickle of blood running from her cut cheek.
The Astra sped alongside the Citroen once more and Carter glanced across once and saw the shotgun being aimed at them again.
The next blast tore off a wing mirror and peppered the side of the car with buckshot.
Carter stepped on the brake as he turned the car, cutting in front of a taxi as he swung the vehicle left into Park Lane, weaving in and out of traffic in an effort to escape the pursuers.
`Keep your head down,' he told Tina, forced to raise his voice in order to be heard above the roaring of the engine and the sound of the wind rushing in through the shattered back window.
The Astra sped after them, bumping a Metro out of the way as the driver coaxed more speed from the pursuing vehicle.
Mendham stirred slightly and twisted painfully in his seat, the. 45 propped against the frame of the window. As the other car drew nearer he squeezed off three shots.
The first struck the windscreen and ricocheted off the glass with a high pitched whine. The second shattered a side window and the third missed completely.
The Astra swerved and moved away from the Citroen, roaring past a Ford that had slowed down, its driver looking on in panic as the two cars shot past him.
Down towards another set of lights the two cars raced, like maniacal Grand Prix cars. The lights were green fortunately although it would have made little difference if they hadn't been.
Carter swung the Citroen in front of another car, trying to thread the vehicle through the traffic in an effort to escape the Astra.
It kept coming.
Mendham moaned, his left arm now completely numb, dangling like a piece of bloodied meat beside him. But he sucked in a deep breath, gritted his teeth against the pain and fired again at the white car.
The bullet smashed a headlight, glass exploding over the front of the Astra.
But instead of pulling back, the driver stepped on the accelerator and guided the car alongside the Citroen once more.
The Remington roared loudly, two thunderous blasts.
Both of them hit Mendham.
The first caught him in the shoulder again, the impact almost hurling him across Carter's lap. Portions of splintered bone and gobbets of flesh splattered Carter who narrowed his eyes as his companion's blood splashed his face and ran into his eyes.
The second discharge hit Mendham full in the face.
Such was the ferocity of the impact that his head seemed to explode. As if someone had planted a small charge of dynamite inside his skull, the entire cranial cavity erupted, spewing its sticky contents into the car. Mendham's mouth was still open in a scream of pained surprise, his jaw frozen as he fell forward in the seat, held by his seat belt, sticky slops of greyish-red brain matter now coating the inside of the Citroen. Blood pumped from inside the pulverized skull, some of it splattering Tina who gritted her teeth and tried not to vomit. Mendham's finger twitched and two more shots from the .45 cut through the air.
Carter spun the wheel savagely, sending the Citroen crashing into the side of the Astra.
The white car skidded slightly but sped on, the driver trying to cut across in front of Carter who merely pressed his foot down even harder on the accelerator and slammed into the vehicle. There was a loud crash as the Citroen's headlights smashed but Carter was satisfied to see a large dent in the white car. It skidded to one side, colliding with another car, giving Carter precious seconds to get ahead.
He twisted the wheel violently, cutting between a lorry and a bus; then, head down over the blood-spattered steering wheel, he guided the Citroen down Sloane Street.
It was as he hurtled through another set of traffic lights that he saw the police car.
Lights flashing madly, it seemed to appear from nowhere, pulling in behind the Astra which was still following with the same mad intent.
Carter saw both vehicles draw parallel and one of the men in the back of the Astra swing the shotgun around towards the police car.
He fired twice.
The windscreen disintegrated under the dual impact, glass flying into the car, blinding the two uniformed men who occupied the front seats.
The police car went out of control, the driver wounded by the lethal shards, peppered with buckshot.
The car hit the pavement, spun twice and then smashed into some tables outside a cafe. The men were catapulted into the air by the force of the crash, one turning over and over before finally thudding down on top of the stricke
n squad car.
The Astra roared on.
Carter suddenly stepped on the brakes, the tyres spinning madly beneath him. Smoke rose from the scorched rubber as he turned the car into an alley, still desperate to escape the pursuing car. The alley was narrower than he'd anticipated.
As the Citroen roared along it, it banged off first one side then the other, sparks flying from the wings, stripping paint from the chassis as effectively as if it had been done with a blowtorch. Carter checked his rear view mirror and noted with horror that the Astra was still following them.
The sound of powerful engines filled the alley for long moments before the Citroen broke clear, skidding once more as it reached another street.
Carter turned the wheel to the left, to the right.
He manoeuvred the car with a deftness born of desperation and, every time it lurched to one side, Mendham's body would swing towards him, splashing him again with warm blood. But he ignored the crimson fluid, more intent on losing the Astra which was still in pursuit. The driver was attempting to draw up alongside once again, enabling the men in the back to get a better shot.
The cars were almost level when they bore down on the zebra crossing.
Carter shouted loudly, perhaps it was meant as a warning to the pedestrians who were running from the crossing. All but two made it.
The Citroen hit a woman in her thirties, her body flying into the air, suspended there as if on invisible wires before she fell back to the ground, rolling over on the tarmac.
The Astra struck the man with her, catapulting him a full fifteen feet. He rolled over and over, his back broken by the impact.
The two cars sped on into the King's Road.
Carter heard more sirens now, saw two police cars joining the hunt.
Yet still the Astra kept coming.
The men in it seemed oblivious to the presence of the law, so determined were they to kill the other two occupants of the Citroen.
