‘This whole thing’s wrong!’ shouted Cain, using the code for a second time, his voice echoing round the room. ‘This whole thing’s wrong! Let him go!’
Dav said something else in Albanian and the cord was loosened enough for me to breathe again, but I was still unable to move and panting wildly for breath. The big guy was patting me down now, looking for more weapons. He found the mobile phone and lobbed it over to Dav, who caught it with his free hand and inspected it. Seeing that it was switched off, he lost interest and lobbed it away, ignoring my gasps for mercy.
Next came the wallet, and Dav put his gun away so he could use both hands to check through it more carefully.
Jesus, I’d messed up. My whole life was in that wallet, not just the two GPS units Bolt had given me. My address.
My family.
‘This whole thing’s wrong!’ yelled Cain again.
But there was no movement outside the door. No Cecil. No nothing.
‘Shut the fuck up, Cain!’ snapped Dav.
He shouted something in Albanian and one of the other gunmen came forward and searched Cain from behind. Cain tensed, and for a moment I thought he might go for the gun on the floor, but he didn’t resist as it was kicked away, out of reach.
‘This isn’t the way we do business in this country,’ he said angrily. ‘You treat your customers properly.’
Dav’s expression was like stone. ‘Someone betrayed Brozi. It wasn’t any of us. So it has to be you, or someone close to you. How long have you known this guy for? Uh?’ He waved an arm at me. ‘How long?’
Cain hesitated. For just one second, but it was one second too long. ‘Long enough.’
Dav shook his head emphatically. ‘Not long enough.’ He pulled a crumpled photo from the wallet. It was an old one my mum had taken of Gina and Maddie, when Maddie was about a year old, and we’d still been a family. ‘Nice picture.’ He grinned, showing his nicotine-stained teeth. ‘This your wife and kid?’
I swallowed hard, which with the thin cord round my neck was no easy feat, the anger rising in me at the thought of this arsehole holding such a precious photo. I thought about elbowing the big guy in the ribs and making a break for it, grabbing Dav’s gun and shoving it against his head, but there was no way I’d make it.
‘Put it back,’ I hissed, as the big guy tightened the garrotte once again.
Jesus, I was scared now. More scared than I’d ever been. And angry with myself too for getting involved in this. I should have turned Bolt down flat. Instead, here I was, trapped with a bunch of madmen, with Cecil, the one man I trusted in this whole thing, nowhere to be seen.
Dav slipped the photo back in the wallet, then pulled out my driving licence. I stiffened. It had my old address on it. The family home where my wife and daughter still lived. I couldn’t believe I’d made such a basic error as to keep my real ID on my person. But I had.
Dav stared at the licence, then back at me. ‘So, Richard Burnham-Jones. How did you meet Mr Cain here?’
‘He’s part of our organization,’ Cain insisted, his voice steady. ‘And we really don’t like people treating us this way. So I’d advise you to let him go so we can continue our deal.’
‘Don’t advise me, Mr Cain,’ said Dav, putting my wallet in his back pocket. He barked something in Albanian and the shotgun-wielding thug who’d searched Cain lifted his weapon and pointed it at the back of his head.
For a single terrifying moment I thought he was going to pull the trigger and blow Cain’s brains all over the dirty floor, but nothing happened, and I was impressed at how calm Cain kept as he looked slowly over his left shoulder at the gunman.
‘Put your hands in the air, Mr Cain, and don’t say another word. Understand?’
Cain nodded once.
‘So, I ask you again, Richard Burnham-Jones. How did you meet Mr Cain?’
It wasn’t easy for me to talk with a garrotte round my neck, but I made the effort. ‘I did some work with one of his guys,’ I gasped. ‘I proved myself. And now I work for him.’
‘I don’t like you, Richard Burnham-Jones.’ Dav spat my name out like it was contagious. ‘There’s something about you that’s not quite right. I can smell it, you know. I’ve always been able to smell trouble.’ He came closer now, his face only inches from mine, and I could smell the stale smoke on his breath. ‘You know what we used to do back home to guys who fucked with us? We killed their whole fucking family. Wife, mother, father. Even their baby children. All of them.’
He turned away and walked over to one of the shelf units, bending down to pick something up. It was only when he turned back round that I saw what it was.
A bloodstained meat cleaver with a steel blade that gleamed in the light.
I started struggling again but I was powerless against the garrotte, and every time I moved it bit deeper into my neck. Jesus, where the hell was Cecil?
‘Where’s the money?’ Dav demanded, resting the cleaver against his shoulder, flat side up. The question was aimed at Cain.
‘I told you,’ said Cain. ‘Near here.’
Dav motioned towards the big guy holding me, and the next second my legs were kicked from under me and I was forced to the floor so I was lying back with my head resting in the big guy’s lap, the cord still biting into my neck. I started choking and it loosened just a little. At the same time, Dav came over and knelt on my legs just above the knees, holding them in place before putting the cleaver’s blade against my shin. I could feel the sharpness of the blade pushing hard on the skin.
‘Tell me where the money is or I’ll cut off his fucking leg! You think I’m bullshitting, yeah? You think I’m bullshitting?’
‘I didn’t take you for a thief,’ said Cain, still keeping his voice even. ‘I thought you were a businessman.’
Dav glared at him. ‘I am a businessman, but I’m no fucking sucker. Someone took down our middleman and now you turn up here without your money. I want to know what’s going on.’
‘So do I. This whole thing’s wrong!’ Cain shouted these last words so loudly that Cecil would have heard him if he’d been chewing popcorn at the top of the London Eye.
But where was he? For Christ’s sake, where was he?
‘The money, Cain. You tell me where it is, or I take his leg. Then yours.’ He raised the cleaver high above his head, his thin feral features alive with excitement.
And in that moment I knew he was going to do it.
Channelling all my strength, I flung myself upwards, ignoring the tightening of the cord, and knocked Dav off me.
He yelled out in anger and lashed out with the cleaver, slicing the material of my jeans. I felt a flash of sharp pain as the blade cut into my leg, and then he was back sitting on my legs again. I could no longer breathe, and my vision was blurring as he raised the cleaver for a second time.
And then the whole room erupted in a hail of gunfire, and suddenly the cord went slack.
Everything now happened incredibly fast. Dav was staring towards the door, and I went for him, fuelled by a potent mix of anger, adrenalin and fear, grabbing his cleaver arm in one hand as he scrabbled wildly for the gun in the holster beneath his leather jacket.
He wasn’t fast enough. With my free hand I punched him twice in the face, before swatting his other arm to one side and yanking out the gun as he rolled backwards across the floor, still holding the cleaver.
There was another burst of gunfire and I hit the deck, rolling across the floor before swinging round with the gun in my hand as bullets sprayed round the room, ricocheting in all directions.
Both the shotgun-wielding Albanians were on the floor. The one who’d been covering Cain lay sprawled out, not moving, while the other was down on his knees pointing his shotgun unsteadily at Cecil who was standing in the doorway, holding the MP5 in front of him. Cecil fired again, at exactly the same time that the Albanian pulled the trigger. The Albanian took a burst of fire to the chest but stayed upright, while Cecil was forced to dive out of the way to
avoid the shotgun blast, which struck the wall behind him, puncturing a hole in the brickwork.
Meanwhile the big guy who’d had the garrotte round my neck fired a shot in Cecil’s direction, then swung round towards me, firing wildly as he went. The two of us were only ten feet apart and I took rapid aim at his torso and pulled the trigger.
But nothing happened. The safety was on.
I flicked at it with my forefinger but now the big guy was aiming right at me and I could smell the cordite from his weapon.
For a tenth of a second the whole world stopped. I was too late. I was going to die.
And then the side of my assailant’s head exploded in a shower of blood and brain matter as a bullet slammed into it, and he went down hard, firing off a last shot that flew up into the ceiling, before dropping the gun.
I turned and saw Cain kneeling in a firing position, holding the pistol he’d come here with, his face grimly determined as he continued firing, hitting the surviving guy with the shotgun who, though he’d been hit by Cecil, was still trying to get to his feet, and sending him sprawling into the shelf units.
Now that only left Dav. I jerked round just in time to see him running wildly for the door at the back of the building. I didn’t even hesitate. Holding the gun two-handed and finally flicking off the safety, I took aim and opened fire, missing with the first two bullets, but bringing him down with the third and the fourth.
He stumbled forward into the desk, dropping the cleaver in the process, before slipping on to his knees.
I stood up, still pretty unsteady on my feet after what had just happened, and walked towards him, gun outstretched.
Dav gave me a defiant look as I stopped and pointed the gun at his head.
‘Don’t shoot him,’ barked Cain, coming over with Cecil. ‘We need to know where the weapon is we’re buying.’
‘Fuck you,’ hissed Dav through gritted teeth. He was clutching at his stomach, blood oozing through the gaps in his fingers.
‘You’re not the only one who knows how to use a cleaver,’ said Cain, reaching down and picking it up from the floor. He grabbed the hand that Dav was using to stem the blood from his wound and slammed it down hard on the desk. ‘Tell me where the weapon is or I’ll start on your fingers and by the time I reach your head you’ll have told me every secret you’ve ever had.’
Dav looked up at him, saw the cold look in his pale eyes, and his expression weakened. ‘It’s out the back. We were always going to give it to you. I just didn’t trust this bastard. I still don’t.’
‘Cecil. Check it’s there.’
Cecil disappeared through the door.
‘You know I trust you, Cain,’ said Dav as they waited, trying unsuccessfully to hide the desperation in his voice. ‘I wouldn’t have fucked you up. You let me go, yeah, and no one’ll ever mention this again. I’ll get rid of the bodies of my friends.’
Cain didn’t say anything. He was still holding the cleaver above Dav’s hand.
Cecil came back into the room. ‘It’s there, and it’s still in the box.’
Cain nodded. ‘Good.’ He turned to me. ‘He’s all yours. Prove to him you’re no cop.’
Dav’s eyes widened. ‘I believe you! Please!’
I pushed the end of the barrel into his forehead, while he wriggled beneath it. It was only a minute since he’d been threatening to cripple me for life and yet my anger had dissipated. I almost felt sorry for him.
A bead of sweat rolled down my temple and suddenly I was back in Afghanistan on that single terrible day when I’d killed in cold blood for the only time in my life. Strength. I needed strength. Because if I didn’t shoot him, there was no way I was walking away from here.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cecil staring at me, his face taut with tension.
For a long, drawn-out second we all waited.
Then I pulled the trigger.
Thirty-six
17.45
I WATCHED THE body slide slowly to the floor, then dropped Dav’s gun into his lap and pulled my wallet from his pocket before turning away, having no desire to look at what I’d just done. For a few seconds the room was silent, bar the incessant ringing in my ears. I rubbed my neck where the cord had bitten into it and fought down a rising nausea.
‘Where the hell were you?’ I asked Cecil.
‘It’s a good question,’ said Cain. ‘We almost ended up dead in here.’
‘They had another guard posted near the fence. I had to get past him.’
‘Where’s he now?’
‘I was waiting for him to move. Then I heard you shout from inside, so I took him out with a knife, then came over as fast as I could.’ He was bouncing on his toes like a flyweight boxer as he talked, the adrenalin from the fire fight making him hyper. He looked round at the bodies littering the room. ‘What the hell happened in here?’
Cain sighed as he looked down at Dav’s body. ‘This one got a phone call to say that Brozi, the guy who set up this deal, had been arrested, and because they didn’t know Jones, they thought he might have had something to do with it. It’s a pain. These guys were useful suppliers. But at least we’ve got what we came for. And if they’re dead, they can’t talk. I’m sorry about what happened, Jones. I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘Neither was I,’ I grunted, not wanting to let him off the hook easily. I’d come far too close to dying, and it had scared me.
There was a pool of blood forming round Dav’s head and I tried to ignore it. I inspected the cut on my leg where Dav had caught me with the cleaver, but it was only a minor flesh wound and would stop bleeding soon enough.
Cain turned to Cecil. ‘Let’s grab the box and get out of here. Jones, make sure you’ve got everything. At some point, this place is going to be a major crime scene, and if any of us have left any trace we were ever here, we’re in real trouble.’
I nodded, but I was suddenly filled with an intense curiosity. Five men had just died, all for a single weapon. I was also damn sure that whatever the weapon was, it was going to be used against the people of this city. Cain clearly didn’t give a shit about taking innocent lives, so I needed to make sure that it wasn’t something that was going to affect my family.
I was following them into the back room when Cain turned round.
‘Where are you going?’ he snapped.
‘I want to see what I almost got killed for.’
Cain seemed to think about this for a moment, then exchanged glances with Cecil who was standing inside the sparsely furnished back room where an open six-foot-by-three-foot wooden crate rested on a metal table. From the angle I was standing at, I couldn’t see what was inside.
‘Jones is one of us now, sir,’ said Cecil. ‘We need to trust him.’
Cain paused, clearly not convinced, before finally he nodded.
We approached the crate and looked down.
And straight away I realized why they’d wanted to keep its contents a secret so badly.
Thirty-seven
17.48
AFTER A TWENTY-MINUTE argument with Islington nick’s chief superintendent, Mike Bolt finally managed to get out of his office with his job and his position still intact. The chief super was furious at the way an op on his patch had degenerated into a hail of gunfire in broad daylight, and that the captured suspect was now claiming he’d been violently assaulted by one of his arresting officers, and had injuries that appeared to back up his claim. The fact that the arresting officer was Tina Boyd had only added to his fury. It seemed the chief super didn’t have particularly fond memories of Tina’s tenure at the station.
On one hand, Bolt could see his point of view: the whole thing had almost ended in disaster thanks to Tina staying in Brozi’s house after she’d been told to leave. Yet the fact remained that the photos she’d found on his phone represented a hugely important lead. They linked that day’s bombings with Fox, and with the Stanhope attacks that Bolt had spent the previous fifteen months investigating. Fox might not be cooper
ating, but if Brozi talked, they might be able to break the case wide open before the terrorists’ eight p.m. deadline.
It frustrated Bolt that he couldn’t question Brozi himself, but at least now the CTC team had arrived at Islington and were fully aware of how urgent their task was. He took a deep breath. He needed a coffee. In fact, he needed a couple of cold pints and a whisky chaser to settle his nerves after what he’d been through that day. But a coffee was going to have to suffice because it was going to be a while yet before he’d be getting off duty.
That didn’t matter, though. He might have come within a few feet of getting shot, but for the first time in a long time, he actually felt good. Months of tedious detective work and repeated dead ends had been swept aside, and suddenly he was seeing action again, just like in those long-ago days when he’d been part of the Flying Squad, chasing down armed robbers in adrenalin-fuelled ambushes. And, whichever way he cared to look at it, most of what had happened today was down to Tina Boyd. An hour ago he’d been furious with her for taking the kind of extreme risks she always did, but now that fury was subsiding.
He was en route to the canteen when Tina appeared in the corridor up ahead talking to a very tall, gangly young man in an ill-fitting suit.
She smiled when she saw him. ‘Mike, this is Mr Ridic, the Albanian translator. He’s going to be assisting CTC with the Brozi interview.’
‘Good to meet you,’ said Bolt, shaking hands. He turned to Tina as Ridic excused himself. ‘I thought you were meant to be giving a statement.’
‘I’ve made it. It didn’t take long. I mean, the shooting was all over in a few seconds, wasn’t it?’ She gave him a look that suggested there hadn’t been any problems. ‘They want to see you now.’
‘Anything I should know?’
‘Only that I told them that Brozi was resisting arrest, and I only struck him once to make sure he released the gun.’
Ultimatum Page 16
