‘I’ll be fine,’ he repeated, in answer to Efram’s quizzical look.
The visitor looked at the quad copters scattered around the living room floor.
‘Are these ready to go?’
‘In fifteen minutes,’ Roberts confirmed. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have to add the final touches before I release them.’
Efram took the hint and made for the door, checking through the spyhole before opening it. He stopped and turned to Roberts. ‘This is an integral step in our strategy. I know you won’t let me down.’
Efram left, quietly closing the door behind him, and Roberts locked it before going through the rest of the setup process. Once the last of the drones was primed, he carried them all through to the bedroom, where he opened the French windows onto the veranda.
At this hour of the morning, the street below was thankfully quiet. Few would see his toys leave the building, and by the time anyone linked them to the attacks, he would be long gone.
One by one, he took the machines out into the cold morning air, hit the power buttons and watched them lift off. Each one was programmed to soar to a thousand feet then navigate to its target. With a three-hour battery life, they would reach their respective destinations and then hover until the time was right. Being so small, it was unlikely that anyone would see or hear them once they reached their optimum altitude.
The first indication of danger would be when they released their payloads.
When the last of the machines climbed out of view, Roberts scanned the area. He saw nobody taking an interest in his aerial fleet, so he closed the windows, put on his coat and picked up his backpack.
The silenced pistol went into an inside pocket, and he left to face the most challenging part of his mission.
Roberts was soaked when he arrived at the house an hour later, the heavens having opened halfway through his journey. He tried to shrug off the discomfort and focus on the job, the first stage of which was getting over the back garden wall. It was seven feet high and topped with broken glass to deter unwanted guests, but Roberts had come prepared.
He gripped the top of the wall with his fingertips, carefully avoiding the glass, and pulled himself up, peering over the top. The impressive detached red brick house sat in darkness, as did the garden. Roberts dropped to the ground and took a hessian sack from his backpack, wondering how his drones were getting on in the rain. They should be dropping their payloads right about now, but there was nothing he could do to help them except hope they worked as intended.
He threw the heavy sack over the top of the wall and pulled himself up again, this time throwing his right leg up and climbing all the way to the top, the hessian protecting him from the glass shards. He crouched there for a moment, listening for sounds, but none came, so he lowered himself into the garden and pulled the sack down after him. It went back into his pack, and he took the pistol from his jacket before edging towards the house.
A light suddenly came on in one of the upstairs windows.
Roberts froze.
For what seemed an eternity, he wasn’t even aware of the rain running down his face, or the chill wind. He was totally focused on the building in front of him, waiting to see if anyone came out to challenge him.
After what turned out to be just three minutes, the light went off again and the area returned to darkness. Roberts gathered himself and kept to the side of the garden as he approached the house. He made it to the back door and peered in through the glass.
He assumed that whoever had woken up had done so to visit the toilet, and so he waited a few minutes for them to fall back to sleep. In the meantime, he checked the door to see how he could force entry. The uPVC frame looked fairly new, as did all the windows. Picking the lock was out of the question: it simply wasn’t part of his skillset. His only option was to apply brute force and hope to get upstairs before the element of surprise was lost.
Roberts stepped back, took a couple of deep breaths, and fired two shots at the lock.
Gill was roused from her slumber by the incessant shrill and assumed it was her alarm clock. She fumbled for it on the bedside table, and when her hands hit empty space, she remembered where she was.
Wide awake, she realised the noise was coming from the master bedroom, and assumed it was Gray’s alarm going off. She knew Melissa was likely to wake if it continued for much longer, so she got out of bed, turned on the light and went into the hallway.
Gray’s bedroom sat at the front of the house, one of four on the upper storey. She went in and saw the bedside clock, but realised the noise wasn’t coming from there. Instead, on the opposite wall, a flashing light accompanied the shrill sound. She took a closer look and saw that labels under each bulb related to a part of the house and grounds.
Gill realised that it was a high-tech burglar alarm, and the flashing light told her that the garden was the source of the intrusion.
Panic gripped her, and she struggled to think of what to do next. Call the police? Call Tom?
She settled for hitting the reset switch, which thankfully turned off the alarm. In the sudden silence, she was able to focus a little better.
Could it have been a fox or a cat? Or was it a burglar hoping to make hay while the police were otherwise engaged?
Gill decided to take no chances. She tiptoed through to Melissa’s room and gently lifted the sleeping child from her cot. She carried the girl through to one of the spare bedrooms and opened the linen drawer before removing several duvet covers and pillow cases. She placed Melissa in the drawer and closed it slowly, then threw the bedding into the dirty clothes hamper.
Next, she went back to her own room and found her phone. She decided to call Tom first and get his advice. If the phone were answered by one of the police officers at the station, she would let them know what was going on.
Gill was looking for Gray’s number in her contact list when she heard the popping sounds coming from downstairs.
Roberts was astonished by the sound that came from the weapon. It was the first time he’d fired a silenced pistol, and he had expected it to be just that: silent. Instead, each round made a very loud popping sound that seemed to carry forever. It was almost as loud as the unsilenced versions he’d trained with.
With all thoughts of surprising his target gone, he kicked the door in and strode into the kitchen. A door led through to the hallway and the stairs, which he mounted two at a time. At the top, he got his bearings and went to the room overlooking the back garden, bursting in with the weapon held in a two-handed grip.
Nothing.
The room was empty, and Roberts felt the first signs of panic clawing at his soul. He swivelled and went back out into the hallway, the gun flicking left and right as he worked out what to do next.
He moved to the next door and kicked it in, only to find a deserted bathroom.
Get a grip, man.
The next door he came to was slightly ajar, and he thought he heard a scraping sound coming from inside. Steeling himself, he kicked it wide open and flattened himself against the outside wall, expecting a volley of fire to blast through the doorway.
Instead, he heard a muffled cry from within the room.
The girl!
Edging his way inside, he scanned the bedroom. The bed hadn’t been slept in, and it looked like no-one had been in there for some time. He was about to leave when he heard the sound again, this time a little louder. He got down on one knee and checked under the bed, but apart from a little dust, it was clear.
Roberts straightened and strained his ears, waiting for the sound that would announce the location of his quarry. What he heard was the sound of footsteps running down the stairway, and he set off in pursuit. He reached the top of the stairs in time to see a woman disappearing to the side at the bottom of the stairwell. Not quite what he’d expected. From his research, he knew that Gray lived alone, so why h
e found no sign of the man and saw only a strange woman running around Gray’s house, he had no idea.
He didn’t have time to ponder. If the woman got outside and raised the alarm, the police would be sure to come and investigate, especially if she saw his firearm. He pounded down the stairs after her, but found himself in an empty hallway.
He made a snap decision and headed for the kitchen. If he was being chased in his own home, he’d want to arm himself, and that was where the knives were kept. The door was almost closed, not how he’d left it, and he knew he’d guessed right. He ran to the door and kicked it open to find the woman cowering in a corner.
‘Please, don’t kill me!’
Roberts stood in front of her and pointed the weapon at her forehead. She looked to be in her fifties, and he didn’t figure her for Gray’s girlfriend. A neighbour, perhaps, or maybe even a family member.
‘Where’s Gray?’
‘He’s not here,’ the woman sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.
‘I gathered that. Where is he?’
‘At the police station.’
Roberts knew this would take forever if she kept her answers short and vague.
‘What’s he doing at the police station?’ Roberts snarled, trying to force her into opening up.
‘He was arrested. He killed some men tonight.’
Killed some men? That meant Gray was likely to remain behind bars for the foreseeable future, making him untouchable. It wouldn’t please Efram, but Roberts could hardly be blamed for something outside of his control. All he could do was finish off the job he’d been given.
He grabbed the woman by the hair and dragged her to her feet, pulling her towards the stairs. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Gill.’
‘Tell me where the girl is, Gill.’
‘What girl?’
Roberts gave her a knock on the head with the butt of the pistol. ‘I heard the baby. Where is she?’
The woman sobbed as Roberts dragged her up the stairs and into the bedroom where he’d first heard the sound. He put a finger to his lips, ordering her to shut up, then strained to listen for sounds of the girl.
He didn’t have to wait long. A scratching sound came from a chest of drawers, followed by the sound of a young girl’s cry as Melissa woke to find herself trapped in unfamiliar surroundings.
Roberts pushed Gill onto the bed and knelt down by the drawers. He pulled the bottom one open and looked down at the tiny, tear-stained face.
‘Hello, darling.’
In all her years, Gill Finch hadn’t had so much as a school playground fight. She abhorred violence, and had brought up her now-grown children to avoid confrontation whenever they could. The events of the last twelve hours had been like something from another world, one she’d insulated herself from her whole life, but the thought of Melissa coming to harm awoke a primal maternal instinct that had lain dormant for many years.
Two years previously, she had thought she’d been followed home after leaving work, but while no-one had actually approached her, the incident had shaken her. When she’d told Tom Gray about it, he’d assured her that it was probably nothing, but offered her some self-defence tips just in case.
His instructions came flooding back as she watched the intruder kneeling over Melissa, and before she knew it, she was standing over him. She opened her arms as wide as they would go and cupped her hands slightly, just as Gray had shown her. When she brought them together, clapping them hard over the intruder’s ears, he screamed in pain as his eardrums burst.
His hands flew to his head and the pistol clattered to the floor. Gill pushed him away from the drawer, grabbing Melissa as he hunched in agony with his hands over his damaged ears. She ran down the stairs and tried to open the front door, but it wouldn’t move. She remembered locking it and taking the key out, and realised it was on the living room table.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs above, and with no time to retrieve the key, Gill ran to the kitchen. The back door stood open, but before she could reach it, a bullet whizzed past her head and gouged a hole in the wall.
‘I won’t miss with the next one.’
Tom Gray was wet and miserable, as were his two companions. He hadn’t slept in over a day, and his stomach was demanding food. He promised himself both when he got home.
It had been a long walk from the station, with the duty sergeant refusing to offer them a lift home owing to lack of available officers. He had been told he could call a taxi, but after trying three numbers without answer, he’d given up.
The interrogation hadn’t been too strenuous. The investigating officer had watched the CCTV recovered from the office, and when Gray had answered his questions honestly, there was little doubt that his friends and he had been defending themselves. They’d gone through the formalities of fingerprinting and photo-taking, then sat in a cell, waiting for a decision to be made. It had taken some time, but eventually they’d been granted police bail and told to report back to the station in two weeks. If no charges were brought at that time, then they could collect the items held as evidence, their weapons included.
Smart and Sonny had said their farewells as the trio parted company, having decided to make their own way home. Gray had offered them a coffee and breakfast, but both wanted to get home and check on their places.
‘If my power’s out, the freezer will be defrosted and the whole flat will be stinking,’ Sonny said as he peeled away. Smart had similar concerns, leaving Gray to face the last twenty minutes alone.
Traffic had started moving as he neared his house, but not the usual rush hour mayhem he’d expect of a typical Tuesday morning. Instead, half a dozen cars passed him, most heading away from the city. Gray guessed they were leaving town until the madness was over.
Not a bad idea.
He arrived at the house looking forward to a hot bath, and decided that took priority over returning Andrew Harvey’s call. As he used the fob to activate the gates, he wondered what to prepare for breakfast. Perhaps he could persuade Gill to cook something and then stay and look after Melissa while he had a little kip. It wasn’t as if she had an office to go to . . . .
Gray was about to ring the doorbell when a male scream from inside the house made him instantly alert. He lived in a detached property, so it couldn’t have been a neighbour that he’d heard. That meant someone was in his house.
Melissa.
Gray ran round the side of the house, where a seldom-used door led into the utility room, and beyond that the kitchen. Sitting next to the door was a planter, which sat within another, larger stone ornament. Gray lifted the planter out and retrieved the utility room key, which he’d placed there in case he ever lost his front door keys. The lock hadn’t been used in some time, but he managed to unlock it without making too much noise.
Inside, Gray scanned the room quickly for a weapon but found nothing more lethal than some fabric softener. The kitchen would be more fruitful, so he eased open the door and went over to the cutlery drawer. Just as he reached it, he heard footsteps running towards him, and he grabbed the only thing available—a wooden steak tenderiser—before squeezing himself up against the wall.
Gill ran into the kitchen towards the back door, carrying Melissa. Gray’s pulse raced, and it took all his willpower not to rush to her side.
Gray heard the distinct pop of a silenced weapon and saw a small hole appear in the far wall. It was enough to make Gill freeze, and he just prayed she didn’t turn round for a few seconds.
‘I won’t miss with the next one.’
Gill was sobbing hysterically, with Melissa following her lead, and Gray strained to hear above the noise. He registered footsteps approaching from the hallway. Only one set.
That would make things easier.
An outstretched hand appeared through the doorway holding a silenced 9mm, followed by a forearm. Gray wai
ted until he saw the upper arm, then moved in.
He grabbed the arm and spun the man round ninety degrees, slamming the pistol into the wall. The gun popped again, but the round went harmlessly into a kitchen cabinet. Gray used the steak mallet on the man’s knuckles, delivering two rapid blows, and the gun fell harmlessly to the floor. Gray twisted the arm and delivered an open palm to the intruder’s face, crushing his nose and taking all of the fight out of him.
The attack lasted less than five seconds.
Gray retrieved the pistol, pointing it at the prone stranger’s head.
‘Tom!’
Gill ran over to Gray and threw her arm around him, but for the time being, Gray was all business. He eased her backwards, never taking his eye off the figure bleeding all over his floor.
‘How many?’ Gray asked Gill, and she told him that this was the only one she’d seen. Gray kicked his prisoner in the thigh and repeated the question.
‘I’m alone,’ the man moaned, blood from his broken nose splattering the floor tiles as he rose slightly, then fell onto his back.
Tom nodded and motioned for Gill to take Melissa into the living room. ‘Ring Len and Sonny. Let them know what happened,’ he called after her.
Gray ordered the man to his feet, then told him to ease his jacket open so that he could check for extra weapons. With none apparent, he told the man to strip to his underpants and throw his clothes in the corner.
Gray pulled a wooden chair over from the dining table at the far end of the kitchen, never taking his eye off the prisoner.
‘Okay, get dressed again, then sit.’
The man did as instructed, and Gray took a roll of cling film from one of the drawers. He wrapped half the roll around the prisoner’s chest a few times, then did the same with his legs, securing him to the chair.
Gray stood in the middle of the kitchen, the pistol hanging loosely by his side. ‘I’m not a patient man, so your answers better come quick. What’s your name?’
Gray Vengeance Page 16
