by Tom Graham
‘I was a kid, I was confused – but I knew it was all wrong. And I knew, deep down, that there was a reason why my dad had died and my mum was gone and that this stranger Clive Gould had suddenly taken over. I knew that Clive did business with some very scary men. I knew that he was involved in things. And it made me feel dirty that I was with him, because my dad had brought me up to be good. ‘Doing good isn’t always easy, Annie,’ he said to me once, ‘in fact, sometimes it’s that hardest thing in the world. But you’ve still got to do it. You’ve got to be to look at yourself in the mirror, Annie. That’s so important. Whatever happens, you’ve got to be able to look at yourself in the mirror.’
‘So one day, I made this big thing to Clive about going clothes shopping. I must’ve got Clive on a good day, a day when he halfway trusted me, because he let me go out alone as long as I was back by four. I went out – but I didn’t go to the shops, I went to the police station. They knew who I was. Straightaway they knew. So they put me in a room and told me to wait, and very soon this man came to see me, a DCI. His name was Mike. Mike Carroll. He was very nice, but very nervous. I told him that Clive was involved with things, that people died because of him, that I thought he might have killed my dad. And DCI Carroll listened, and he didn’t say anything for a long time, and kept fidgeting with his ink pen the whole time but he never wrote anything down, just made funny little spirals on his notepad, all tight and anxious.
‘And then at last he said he need to speak to his colleagues, and that I should go home now, and not breathe a word to Clive, and leave everything to the police. And as I was leaving, he said – almost whispered it – to come back if I had anything more to say, and to ask for him by name, but make sure Clive didn’t find out. ‘Keep it top secret, he kept saying, just between us two.’
‘Well, I was a dumb kid, but I wasn’t so dumb that I didn’t know Clive would hit the roof if he knew I was talking to the police. So I was very careful. I kept my eyes and ears open, I made a note of the men Clive did business with, I even looked in his desk diary and listened at his door when he was on the phone. And I went back to see DCI Carroll and told him everything. I was like an undercover agent. I began to think of myself as a policewoman, working for CID. In my head, that’s exactly what I was.
‘And then, one day, I was at home, and Clive was in his office, and the doorbell went. And DCI Carroll was there, and these two others – DS Walsh and DC Darby. And they looked really scared, and I thought that was because they had come to arrest Clive, so I got scared too, but also excited.
‘Clive took the three of them into his office, and they were talking for ages, but this time I stayed away, acting all innocent while really I was waiting for them to drag Clive out in handcuffs. But then Carroll and Walsh and Darby went away, and Clive stayed in his office, and the house seemed weirdly silent, and my heart was beating really hard. And it beat even harder when I heard Clive calling for me. So I went downstairs and went into his office, and he was there behind his desk, looking at him, very serious, and his face was all red and his eyes were strange, like he was trying to force them out of his head. And he told me to come in and shut the door.
‘There was nobody else in the house. Just me and him. We were alone. And he …’
But she could say no more, and Sam gently shh’d her and held her and said he understood, he understood everything, that she didn’t need to say another word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE ALAMO
So Carroll, Walsh and Darby had sold her out. They sold her out, and Clive Gould murdered her.
The bastards, Sam thought, though more in sorrow than in anger. He pressed the side of his face against Annie’s hair as they sat together on the hard bed in the moonlit bedroom. The murdering, cowardly bastards …
What pressures had driven Carroll and the others to betray her like that? Had they been afraid that in compiling evidence against Gould, Annie would also be compiling evidence against them, linking them to the cover up in the aftermath of her father's murder? Did they see this act of betrayal as the price to be paid for their own safety?
And when Gould had finished with Annie, and she lay dead at his feet, what then? Had Carroll, Walsh and Darby been the ones to carry her away? Had they been the ones to dump her in some filthy canal, along with Clive Gould's other victims? Damn those bastards! How could they? How could anyone?
‘They’re all dead now,’ Sam said softly. ‘Carroll, Walsh, Darby. Gould’s killed them all. Even now, they’re still in his pocket. Even now, he has need of them.’
‘And he has need of me, too,’ Annie whispered. ‘He still wants me, Sam. He still hasn’t forgiven me for what I did. Talking to the police … and then falling in love with a copper – with you, Sam. He can’t forgive me. He wants me with him, where he is. To punish me. To go on punishing me. Forever. That’s why he’s come all this way.’
‘And he’s going back empty-handed,’ Sam said, taking Annie’s face in his hands and looking straight into her eyes. ‘You’re not going anywhere, Annie. I swear it.’
‘I’m so frightened,’ she said. ‘I’m frightened for both of us.’
‘So am I. But we’re strong. And we’re not alone. We’ve got an overweight, over-the-hill, nicotine-stained, borderline-alcoholic homophobe downstairs with a superiority complex and an unhealthy obsession with male bonding. Now that’s got to count for something.’
Annie laughed. She actually laughed. Sam hadn’t seen her laugh for what felt like centuries. He kissed her, properly, taking his time – then he peppered her face, her cheeks, her eyes, even the tip of her nose with a meteor shower of rapid little kisses.
‘He’s not going to get you, Annie,’ he said.
‘And he’s not going to get you,’ she said back.
‘And what about little Jack ‘Orner banging one out in the corner, don’t none of you give a tom cat’s todger for ‘im?’ Gene had suddenly appeared in the doorway, looming out of the darkness like a ghost. ‘Is it Peters and Lee live in this gaff, is that why we’re faffing about with lights off?’
‘Mr McClintock told me to keep the place dark like there was nobody here, Guv,’ said Annie, getting to her feet. ‘He also told me where the front door key was hidden … in case you were wondering, Guv.’
‘You don’t call me, Guv, luv,’ Gene intoned at her. ‘I ain’t your guv’nor no more and you’re out on Civvy Street. Remember?’
‘I remember, Guv. I mean, Gene.’
And having called him by his name like that, to his face, Annie turned anxiously to Sam as if for support. Sam got to his feet and slipped his hand into her own.
‘Let’s leave the disciplinary hearing for another day, shall we, Guv?’ he said. ‘We’ve got Clive Gould and three armed goons out there practically breathing down our necks, and the Cortina’s well out of action. What are we going to do – stay put or haul out of here?’
‘We stand our ground,’ Annie said, summoning up all her strength and courage. ‘We’re safer here than out there on foot.’
‘Um, excuse me, sweetness,’ put in Gene, sounding hurt. ‘I think DI Tyler was addressing me.’
Annie shrugged: ‘Fair enough. Gene.’
Puffing out his chest and pulling his coat straight, Gene breathed air noisily in through his nostrils, thought for a moment, then declared, ‘In my opinion, we stand our ground. I’d say we’re safer here than out there on foot. That’s my opinion. Based on experience. Any weapons knocking about this gaff, treacle?’
There was a silent pause, broken only when Sam said, ‘I think he was addressing you, Annie.’
‘No firearms, not that I’ve found,’ said Annie. ‘There’s farm-type stuff around the place – you know, axes and things. And some big knives in the kitchen.’
Gene sneered: ‘Big knives? What do you think I am, the pirate bloody king? We need shooters!’
‘He’s right,’ agreed Sam. ‘Never bring a knife to a gunfight.’
‘Well, we’ve got your great big Magnu
m, Gene,’ said Annie. ‘Or did you come out without it?’
‘DI Butter-fingered-prat was the last person to handle my trusty Magnum,’ Gene said, his eyes glittering dangerously at Sam in the darkness. ‘All I got now is an empty holster and memories.’
‘Then we barricade ourselves in,’ Annie said firmly. ‘We pile furniture against the doors and windows, we get together every axe and knife and iron bar we can find, we get pans of scalding water on the go, we do everything we can to turn this place into a stockade. If them bastards want to get in here, then we make ’em pay. We make ’em pay dearly. In fact, we make ’em ruddy regret it.’
Impressed, Gene looked her over and said: ‘Where were these cast-iron bollocks when you worked for me, Cartwright?’
‘They were right there, Gene, only you were too up your own arse to notice.’
‘Save the aggression, you two,’ put in Sam. ‘Save it for the bad guys. Annie’s right – if we don’t have any firearms then we just have to improvise. We fortify this place. We turn this farmhouse into the Alamo.’
‘Unfortunate analogy,’ growled Gene. ‘The Alamo fell. March 6th, 1836. Another one of my dates, Tyler.’
Gene proudly tapped the side of his surprisingly well-stocked head.
But Sam said firmly, ‘This time, Guv, the Alamo don’t fall. I’m rewriting history. It’s a hidden talent of mine.’ And he found himself patting the fob watch in his pocket. ‘Come on, let’s get to work.’
He led the way out, but Annie hesitated.
‘Um, just one thing Gene,’ she said sheepishly. Gene turned slowly and gave her a look. ‘Can I … can I go back to calling you “Guv”? Just for tonight. It don’t feel right otherwise.’
‘No, luv, it don’t feel right,’ Gene said in a gruff voice. ‘It ain’t sitting well with me neither.’
‘Well, then. That’s that settled, Guv.’
‘Don’t you start getting any ideas, though,’ Gene added, raising a salutary finger. ‘You ain’t one of us, not no more you ain’t. You are still well and truly eff-eye-ah-ee-dee.’
‘I understand, Guv. I won’t get any ideas.’
Gene seemed to hesitate, as if he were suddenly feeling a pang of guilt. Sam silently willed him to relent, to sigh and drop his shoulders and say, Okay, okay, you’re back on the team. But Gene merely turned away, pushed past Sam, and loped off into the darkness without a word.
Alone together again, just for a moment, Annie squeezed Sam’s hand.
‘It’s been difficult,’ she whispered, ‘getting my head round all this. But now you’re here, Sam, I feel more …’
She looked for the right word, couldn’t find it.
‘Stop that snogging and get down here on the double!’ Gene barked at them from the landing.
It was as they were blundering their way blindly down the staircase in the dark that they heard the sound of a car engine roaring up at the front of the farmhouse. Gene stopped dead, and Sam went into Gene, and Annie went into Sam. Headlights glared through the crack around the front door, then snapped off.
For a few breathless moments, nobody spoke.
It was Gene who broke the silence, whispering, ‘Them axes.’
‘Back of the house,’ Annie whispered back.
‘Tyler, wedge that door shut,’ Gene hissed, and he raced down the last few steps and tore off along the hall. ‘And stay clear of the windows!’
Sam and Annie dived into the living room. Indicating frantically to Annie to keep low, Sam edged up to the window and dared to glance outside. He saw moonlight reflected on a chromium bumper, and a shadowy figure suddenly moving across it. At once he ducked down and crawled over to Annie, pointing at the heavy sofa. Together, they hauled it into the hallway and shoved it up against the front door.
Then, in terrified silence, they waited, listening. Sam noticed that his hands were shaking. Sweat was glistening across his brow and rolling in thick beads down the back of his neck. Annie was little more than a pale shape in the darkness, but he could see the mixed emotions flickering across her face – terror, rage, horror, fierce determination, one after the other in rapid succession.
On the other side of the door came the sound of movement. People were approaching. The door handle was tested. The doorbell rang. A fist thumped three times against the door.
They know we’re here, Sam thought. They’re playing mind games, trying to psych us out.
Sam tapped Annie’s shoulder and pointed for her to get away from the door. She nodded tensely and edged silently back along the hall, Sam creeping stealthily behind her. When the doorbell rang again, it sent his heart leaping into the back of his throat.
At the entrance to the kitchen they found Gene, standing there with a long handled axe in his hands, his face grim, his eyes narrowed. He looked statuesque in the semi-darkness, heroic, almost mythic.
It’s not often I think this, but I am so glad the Guv’s here.
The letterbox rattled. The flap was pushed up. Eyes appeared in the slot.
Sam tensed. Annie took a breath and held it. Gene tightened his grip on the axe.
‘Aye up, anybody in?’ Chris called through the letter box.
Sam slumped against a wall, as Annie let out a laugh that was all nerves. Gene’s eyes glowered furiously.
‘Christopher!’ he bellowed, and stomped into the hallway.
‘Guv? What you doin’ in there, Guv? You all right?’
With immense strength, Gene hauled the sofa back a few feet and flung open the door. Standing outside, backlit by the full moon, were Chris and Ray, their Hillman Avenger parked on the track behind them.
‘What they hell are you tit-faces doin’, givin’ us the heebies and the jeebies?!’ Gene roared at them.
‘Here, steady on, Guv,’ said Chris, backing off and looking to Ray for support.
‘We got your message and raced up here pronto, Guv,’ said Ray.
‘What bloody message? We didn’t send no message!’
‘Aye, you did,’ Ray insisted. ‘Radio message. Tyler spoke to Phyllis on the desk. Signal was all broken up, but she got the key words and wrote ’em down.’ He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, tilted it so that the moonlight fell on Phyllis’ handwriting, and read out: ‘Get a message to Ray and Chris. We need their help. We’re in Trawden – message breaks up – serious trouble – message beaks up again – we need them … Message breaks up entirely.’ Ray thrust the paper back into his pocket. ‘So we jumped in the Avenger and got over here toot sweet. And we thought, given that you sounded like you were in trouble, that you might actually be pleased to see us, Guv.’ He eyed the axe in Gene’s hands. ‘Didn’t know all you wanted us for was to give us the flamin’ chop.’
Annie rushed forward, throwing her arms around Chris and planting a big kiss on his cheek. Chris looked terrified.
‘You don’t know how good it is to see you!’ she beamed, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You don’t know …’
‘All right, all right, tone it down,’ stammered Chris, backing off. ‘Came here for a punch up, not rumpy-pumpy.’
Annie turned to Ray. She went to kiss him too, but he held his hand up, stopping her.
‘Save it,’ he said severely. He still sported an X of sticking plasters on his head from where she’d glassed him. Ignoring Annie, he peered into the dark hallway. ‘Is that you lurking about back there, Boss?’
Sam came forward.
‘It’s me, Ray. And Annie’s right – it is so, so good to see you guys. And you’ve brought a motor! Guv, let’s just get out of here. Let’s get out of here right now.’
Gene nodded: ‘Much as I was warming to the idea of a bit of medieval combat …’ He set down the axe. ‘Ray, Chris, you did the right thing comin’ here, lads. You just caught us at a slightly tense moment, and I don’t mean that Cartwright was offering to show off her belly dancin’. We got Clive Gould breathing down our necks – him and three armed jokers. They’ve given us a right run for our money tonight
. They’ve already murdered the Cortina.’
‘They’ve what?’ Chris cried out, his eyes going wide as fried eggs.
Ray turned away sharply, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, like a man suddenly seized with overwhelming nausea.
‘Vengeance will be ours,’ Gene intoned. ‘But not tonight. Tyler went and lost me shooter, so we’re a little outgunned stuck here. So, everybody into the Avenger and let’s get rollin’ before …’
He broke off. Headlights had appeared at the far end of the track, turning in off the road, blazing on full beam.
‘You bring any back up with you?’ Gene asked tensely.
‘No, we didn’t get time,’ said Ray.
From behind the dazzling headlights there was a deafening volley of gunfire. The Hillman Avenger rocked and shuddered, its rear lights and windscreen blowing out.
Chris was through the front door and along the hall faster than a frightened cat. Ray reached under his corduroy jacket and pulled out a pistol, but Gene grabbed him and thrust him inside. There was a last glimpse of shotguns flaring and the Avenger sinking down on deflated tyres, before Gene slammed the door and ordered the sofa to be wedged back up against it.
‘That’s it then, playmates,’ he growled in the dark. ‘Too late to run. The Avenger’s knackered and Gould’s just popped round for jammy dodgers and a chat. So stay sharp, and buckle in for a bumpy ride. We’re back in the Alamo.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: SIEGE AT TRENCHER’S FARM
‘Gimme the shooter, Ray,’ Gene ordered, thrusting out his hand.
Ray frowned, looked sideways at Gene, and held his gun close to his body.
‘I said, gimme the shooter, Ray!’
‘What about your Magnum, Guv?’
‘I told you, he lost it. Now stop arguing!’
But Ray backed off, shaking his head slowly. ‘No, Guv.’
Gene seemed to inflate like an enraged puff adder, his eyes glittering furiously in the darkness – but then renewed gunfire outside sent everybody bundling back along the hallway.
