by Mat Ridley
I didn’t believe for a moment that he was going to let us go in peace, of course, but his monologue had provided enough cover for me to lift Dave’s body up onto my shoulders and carry it behind another pile of boxes. I quickly commandeered his black leather jacket and mask. Not the greatest fit in the world, but I was pretty sure that I’d pass a cursory inspection, and if everything went according to plan, that would be enough to get George and me out of this situation in one piece. Sam continued to address the wrong part of the warehouse as I took up the position that Dave had previously occupied, standing in the shadows, hoping that the darkness would give my disguise more of a chance to work.
“Come on, Mr Stein, there’s no need to be shy. Or do you need us to help bring you out of your shell a bit?”
Sam and his pals reappeared back from where I had thrown my wallet, and strode purposefully towards where George and I were waiting. I held my breath as they drew closer, but because their attention was still mainly directed towards the shadows of the warehouse, my plan seemed to be working. For all their bravado, the stolen looks they cast over their shoulders told a different story; of the three of them, only Sam seemed easily able to focus his attention back on the task in hand.
“Why is everyone so determined to do this the hard way?” He sighed heavily. “Right, fatso. I’m afraid you need to help us tempt Mr Stein out into the open before he tries to do something stupid like sneaking out of the building and going for help. So Dave here is going to shoot you in the hand, which will be a nice noisy way of letting your mate know that we are not fucking about. Maybe it’ll even jog your memory a bit more, eh? Nothing personal, you understand, but we are going to get that parcel, and we’re not getting paid by the hour. Dave?”
My heart racing, I took a couple of steps forwards, the gun aimed at George. “Dan!” he shouted out. “Dan, these bastards mean business! For God’s sake, get up here now! They’re going to shoot me!” You could almost mistake the sparkle in his eyes for fear. I think part of him was actually enjoying this mess.
Sam’s eyes began to narrow, and I could see he wasn’t quite convinced by George’s sudden switch from uncooperative resistance to craven submission; but before he could finish puzzling it out, I brought the gun up and pointed it at his chest. “Drop the gun, mate, and tell your boys here not to try anything funny. I know how to use this thing. You two, lose the sticks.”
Sam’s henchmen exchanged looks with their boss, who slowly nodded his acquiescence and dropped his gun to the floor. “Okay lads, do as he says. Mr Stein, I presume? Crafty bugger, aren’t you? What have you done with Dave?”
“He’s having a bit of a lie down over there. I think he’s had one of those workplace-related injuries you were talking about just a minute ago. Now shut up.”
George armed himself with Sam’s gun and rose unsteadily to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. “What now, Action Man?”
“I think it’s time to call for some reinforcements. Have you got your mobile with you?”
“Yeah, but it’s not working. Guess these chumps must be telling the truth about that jamming device.”
“Maybe. But I’ve got my phone out in the car. If you hold Sam and his friends here in check, I’ll go out and see if I have any more luck down that end of the car park. Then I can call for the police,” I said. “Oh, and an ambulance,” I added.
“You’re a true gent, Dan. You want to send for a pizza, too, while you’re at it?”
“That won’t do any good,” I said, waving the gun dismissively at our captives. “It looks like all the pizza delivery boys are already spoken for.”
“Fuck you,” barked Sam.
“Shhhh. Quiet, I said.” Now that it had served its purpose, I took off Dave’s mask, not wishing to feel like a gangster any longer than I had to. “Maybe when I get back we can unmask the rest of our party guests and see if we can find out what’s so important about this bloody parcel they keep banging on about.”
I ducked out through the warehouse door and into the downpour that was waiting outside. I ran over to my car, but this time it was more than just the weather that made me hurry. Despite the fact that we had subdued our unwelcome guests, there was still something not quite right about the situation in the warehouse. Sam seemed far too quick to give up, especially considering how determined he and his gang had been to get their hands on that parcel, whatever it was. The more I thought about it, the less I liked it, and by the time I reached my car, I was having serious doubts about the wisdom of having left George back there on his own.
I wasted no time in unlocking the car and grabbing the phone from its home in the glove compartment. That’s pretty much where it always lived; when you keep to yourself as much as I did, you don’t need a mobile phone, and I only had one in the car in case of emergencies—although I was expecting something more along the lines of getting a flat tyre on the motorway, rather than a bunch of psychos raiding my workplace.
Sam’s jamming gizmo didn’t seem to reach as far as where I had parked my car, and I quickly dialled through to the police and gave the emergency dispatcher an outline of what had transpired. All George and I had to do was sit tight for fifteen minutes, and the cavalry would arrive to take care of the rest.
That was about half an hour before I found myself speeding home on the most terrifying drive of my life.
Chapter 2
I ended the call, slipped the phone into my pocket and hurried back over to the warehouse. But the instant I stepped inside again, everything changed. My eyes barely had time to register George’s body lying sprawled, mangled and bloody on the ground before I was grabbed roughly by the arms. A fist came shooting out of nowhere, hitting me sharply on the chin and sending my gun tumbling to the floor. My head rocked back, and when it came forward again, the face of a demon awaited: a squat lump of a head, shaved clear of hair; eyes lurking in their sockets like a mugger’s knife; a nose that looked like it had been chewed up, spat out and ground under the heel of someone’s boot for good measure; and all underscored by a malign grin full of crooked teeth. From the height of the owner, I surmised that this must be Sam. He looked better with the mask on.
“Hello, handsome,” he breathed on me. “Nice of you to join us again. As you can see, we haven’t been idle while you’ve been away. It seems Dave here wasn’t quite as incapacitated as you thought, much to your friend’s surprise.” He paused to look meaningfully over his shoulder at George. “Perhaps you’ll be more cooperative, if you want to avoid sharing his fate. And because I assume you’ve just phoned the police, it looks like we’ll need to skip the pleasantries and get straight down to business.”
Sam punctuated “business” with another solid blow, this time to my gut, knocking the wind out of me. I struggled for breath, but there was nothing wrong with my mind. “You don’t… need to worry… about the police,” I managed. “Couldn’t get a… signal.”
“Aww, that’s too bad, assuming you’re not lying through your teeth. It doesn’t change anything, though,” he said, picking the gun up off the floor, “because I’m running out of patience with all this shit. So, for the last time: where’s my fucking parcel?”
I finished coughing the effects of Sam’s punch out of my system. “I don’t know what parcel you’re talking about, and even if I did, why would I tell you where to find it? After what you’ve done to George, why the fuck should I do you any favours?”
The grin faltered for a moment, then returned, like a dark sun reappearing from behind a cloud. “Because if we don’t get what we want,” he said, holding up one of the photos of Jo that I kept in my wallet, “we might have to swing by your home, Mr Stein, and vent a little frustration there. Know what I mean?”
The rage boiled up inside of me like a hot spring, and with a roar, I tried to channel my anger into a desperate lunge towards Sam. For a moment it looked like I was going to make it, but even my fury wasn’t enough to overpower three men. They ploughed me over into the wall of the shed, and
held me there as I tried to buck free of their grip.
“Whoa! Calm down, calm down! No need to get so excited. I’ve got nothing personal against you or your missus. This is purely business; we came here to do a job, and unfortunately things have got a little complicated. But once we’ve got what we came for, that’s it. We’ve got no reason to take any further action. Your wife, she’s just… leverage.” He savoured the word for a moment before drawing close to my face again. “Trust me.”
Unbidden, an image of the serpent in the Garden of Eden came to my mind, but even though my every instinct screamed not to trust this bastard, I knew that I had no choice. There was no way I would be able to regain control of the situation. It was probably already too late for poor George. And I couldn’t care less about whatever was in the parcel Sam was after. I was, most likely, staring death in the face—and smelling its nicotine-tainted breath—but all that mattered was that I could see a way to make sure Jo was safe.
Just as I opened my mouth to yield to Sam, he suddenly dropped to the ground, as abruptly as if someone had opened a trapdoor underneath him. But the real cause was just as surprising: there on the ground, pulling on Sam’s ankles, was George. Even though I knew it was him, it took a moment for me to recognise him through all the blood—and the fact that his nose had been remodelled to look more like Sam’s. But despite its gruesome condition, I’d never been happier to see his face.
The guy to my left was the first to react, releasing my arm to turn his gun on George, but before he had a chance to let off any shots, I smacked it out of his hand. The gun sailed away towards the warehouse door, shining like a star as it caught the light. The eyes of the three not-so-wise men instinctively followed its passage through the air, giving me the kind of chance I wouldn’t have believed possible a few seconds earlier. I shrugged off my sense of defeat, shouldered the guy holding my right arm to the ground and launched myself after the flying gun. Behind me, I dimly registered the sound of Sam struggling to free himself from George, but I had to trust that George could take care of himself. I wasn’t going to get another opportunity like this.
The gun landed on the floor and scuttled to a stop near the warehouse door. By then, I was about halfway towards it, but I was sure it wouldn’t take my adversaries long to run me down now that the surprise had worn off; I could already hear their heavy footfalls behind me. I knew there were only three of them, but it sounded like an entire mob.
“Watch out, Dan!” A thick voice, barely recognisable as George’s, cut through the confusion behind me, and instinctively I ducked. A breeze fanned the back of my neck as I felt the swoosh of either the baseball bat or the hockey stick go sailing overhead. But before I could even think of yelling my thanks back to him, four clear, loud reports filled the air, and there was no mistaking what that signified: Sam had dealt with George, this time permanently. Each shot was as painful as if it had gone into my own flesh, and George’s final passing was all the more crushing given the encouraging sight of him still being alive just moments earlier. I wish I could say that I took the time to remember my fallen friend, one of the few I had, but running for your life doesn’t really lend itself to such introspection. The best I could manage was to yell out his name, but even that was quickly drowned out by a snarl coming from just behind me.
“C’mere, you bastard!”
I mentally declined this polite invitation and chose instead to dive for the gun. But my feeling of triumph turned to horror as I realised that I had misjudged the distance, and ended up flying headfirst into the door instead. For a moment I was stunned, the thunder of my collision with the door reverberating through my skull, but instinct swiftly resumed control and I scrambled for the gun beneath me. I finally managed to wrap my hand around its grip, and rolled over to face my assailants… just in time for one of them to land right on top of me. We struggled for a moment, and then suddenly there was a series of muffled cracks as my finger was forced against the trigger, emptying the gun’s clip in a single staccato burst.
Agony flared up from various parts of my body: a crushing pain in my wrist, still pinned under the weight of my attacker; protests from my ribs after the hammering they had received from the gun’s discharge; exclamations from my skin, pressed against the hot metal of the gun and charred by the bullets’ confined exit. Amidst all the other pain, I couldn’t even tell if I had been shot myself. From the spray of meaty fireworks that had come out of the back of his body, I was sure that my assailant was dead, but that didn’t mean that some of the bullets hadn’t hit me, too.
I wrestled the gun out from between me and the corpse, wincing as it grated against my bruised ribcage, desperate to get it away from my skin. It finally clattered to the floor, and I tried to take stock of the situation. At first I thought that I must somehow have managed to kill all three of my attackers, since the other two were also laid flat on the ground, but it soon became apparent that this was because they had, quite sensibly, hit the deck as soon as they realised that the automatic was going off. They now rose slowly to their feet, eerily silent. They briefly exchanged glances, confirming to each other that they were okay, before turning their heads back towards me. Their eyes widened, and one of them managed “Chris?” in a hushed voice that carried through the air as if he had shouted it.
Sam moved slowly into view between his two comrades, his own gun dangling at his side, his trousers covered with dark splatters of George’s blood. He looked towards me and what was left of Chris, his eyes flat. His silence worried me; never did the cliché about the calm before the storm seem more appropriate, and I didn’t doubt that when Hurricane Sam hit, I wanted to be clear to run for cover. I tried to shift Chris’s body off of me, all the while conscious of Sam’s dead gaze and the oppressive stillness in the air. It was only when I was nearly free that Sam finally came alive again. Suddenly his eyes ignited in his face, the flames rapidly spreading to the rest of his body. He exploded.
“You. Bastard. Look what you’ve fucking done!” he began, devouring the space between us with long strides of his blood-soaked legs. “Have you any idea who that was? Have you any idea? That was my brother, you bastard! My brother!” He stopped just short of me, raised his gun slightly, lowered it again, looked at me with those eyes. “Why did you do that? Fucking hell!”
The two gargoyles behind Sam shifted uneasily as he ranted. I could see they were itching to administer some reciprocal justice for what I had just done to Chris, but at the same time, they realised that their original job was still unfinished—a job that I could possibly help them with. They needed Sam to make the call, and obviously at that precise moment, his mind was elsewhere.
Things might have gone on like that for a lot longer if the faint sound of sirens, drifting almost serenely from the depths of the world outside the warehouse, hadn’t upset the fragile balance. I think I was the first to catch on, probably because I had been waiting for them, but it wasn’t long before the penny dropped with Dave and Charlie, too. Sam gave no sign that he had heard. It was left to Dave to bring it up.
“Sam, can you hear that? It’s the police,” he said. He had a voice like dirt hitting a coffin lid. “Sam. Come on, mate. We need to go.”
It seemed as if these words were enough to finally rouse Sam from his state. He took a deep, slow breath and released it. I half expected to see steam come coiling out of his mouth as he exhaled, but what transpired instead was much worse: he raised his gun towards me again. This time he followed through with his anger, firing his remaining two bullets at me, but squeezing the trigger many more times. Each shot was accompanied by a searing pain as the bullets tore their way through my body, one ripping through my left shoulder and the other hitting my side. I could feel my consciousness struggling to stay afloat, catching a quick gasp of air before being dragged under again by another wave of agony. In between gulps, I could hear the sound of liquid splattering against concrete, but I couldn’t tell whether that was the blood pouring out of my wounds or the distant e
cho of the leak at the back of the warehouse.
As my mind circled the darkness, I could dimly make out Sam’s voice. The words slowly swam into focus. “That’s a relief! For a minute there, I thought you were dead. Good thing I ran out of bullets when I did. It would be a shame if you got off the hook too easy for what you did to Chris, you bastard.” His voice trailed off for a moment, and then, with a visible effort, I could see him forcing his mind back to the job at hand. “Lads, we need to finish up here. Seeing as how this untrustworthy fucker lied to us about being able to call the cops, we need to give up on finding this bloody parcel and switch to Plan B instead. But,” he said, focussing a particularly nasty grin at me, “that might not be such a bad thing. Bring him over here, and look lively about it.”
Charlie and Dave yanked me up from the floor, the surge in pain as one of them grasped my injured shoulder almost enough to make me pass out. They dragged me across to where George lay in unceremonious repose, his tattered body looking strangely small in the harsh light of the overheads, and dumped me on top of him. One of them removed the bloody scarf from around George’s neck and used it to tie my wrists together behind my back.
“Good. Now, get busy with those petrol cans. Make sure you go all the way to the back with them. We don’t want to miss anything.”
Sam’s henchmen were only too eager to comply. Dave disappeared off down into the body of the warehouse, and after a moment the sounds of petrol being splashed around began to fill the air. Charlie started at the warehouse door, baptising the shed before working his way back farther into the warehouse, too, following a parallel aisle to that of his comrade. The reek of petrol fumes hit my nostrils, helping to focus my reluctant mind on the task of remaining conscious. I groaned in protest, the sound causing Sam to turn his attention back to me once again.
