'Where are you now?'
'I saw them loaded into the back of a car - Walker's lot turned up. I came round as they were walking out the front door. Jumped in the car and followed them.'
'So now Walker has Campbell and Angie? We've got nothing,' Gresham was staring at the floor, his eyes blank.
'Listen to me George. We're sat here for a minute or two and Drennan just appeared. Just kicked the front door in.'
'Drennan? As well? What the hell is going on here Keith?'
'Search me. You want us to follow him in there?'
Gresham paused for a moment. His instinct was to send them in. God knows what was happening in there but his Angie was probably there too. But if there were too many of Walker's men about then it would be over before it began. Slater and Keane wouldn't get two inches inside the front door and that wouldn't help her one bit.
'Sit tight Keith. Wait and see what happens for a minute.'
*
Wondering if anybody even lived in this house Campbell was trying to make mental notes of the place in case he needed to give details to someone in the future, like the police, and he was struck by the dank and run-down look of the place. The wallpaper was faded and had a garish design the likes of which he had last seen when stripping the walls in his own flat and discovering aged layers beneath.
The carpet at his feet was a smudgy brown colour with a number of stains and tears in it and worn through to the wood beneath on the lip of each step of the staircase. He noted once again that the light bulbs had no shades.
From the front of them came a loud, thumping, crashing sound and he heard wood splinter noisily. Suddenly he was alert again and trying to see over the shoulder of the man in front who obscured his view.
The twin popping sounds he heard were only vaguely familiar to him and for a split second he could not understand why. But then the big man's hands were flung into the air as something slammed hard into his chest and he staggered against the wall and dropped to his knees.
The man at his rear had released his hands now and as Campbell looked from the big man's slumping form to the hallway in front of him, he saw a spray of crimson splashed across that grimy wallpaper and carpet. And then he saw a coated figure in the doorway, a handgun with a sleek lengthened barrel gripped in two hands still aimed at the man down on his knees.
Campbell found himself yanked backwards almost off his feet and he slammed shoulder-first against the wall and toward the staircase, struggling to keep upright. A hand was placed roughly in his back, propelling him forward and the momentum took him onto the first of the steps but it was too quick and he wasn't ready and tripped, falling onto his knees.
With his hands tied behind him he pitched forward, unable to balance and he landed painfully face first on the coarse carpet.
Behind him the other man was desperately trying to get him back on his feet and moving back up, away from the door before he heard that pop-pop sound again.
*
Drennan moved smoothly and cautiously into the hallway. The sight of the men coming toward him had come as a shock. He hadn't expected that things would escalate so fast.
The big man had slumped against the wall, eyes wide. He had been just as surprised to be getting a visitor it seemed as he had been to see a welcoming party.
He caught a fleeting view of two other figures turning and scrambling for the stairs beyond but they seemed to stumble.
Perfect.
Drennan dropped slightly to the side, his aim moving to the two figures scrabbling at the foot of the staircase. He moved along the hallway and everything seemed to be going his way already. One down, two to go.
Another two steps and he could hear the distressed, laboured breathing of the big man slumped against the wall. His chest was leaking blood profusely and he looked bewildered, as if he wasn't quite convinced that this was really happening.
Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement off to the right of Drennan and another figure burst from a doorway and slammed straight into the surprised man. They tangled, Drennan stumbling backward and tripping over the wounded man on the floor.
As Drennan fell over, the wounded man seemed to come to attention, suddenly aware that his attacker was now vulnerable. He used the momentum of Drennan's fall to drag him to the ground where he rolled and tried to shift his bulk up on top of him.
Drennan reacted fast, pumping three quick rounds into the man on the floor and kicking himself free.
The other man rushed him and for the first time he realised that he was armed; a huge kitchen knife gripped in his fist. He shifted the aim of the gun toward his attacker but the man slashed wildly with the knife and hot pain lanced up his arm as the blade flashed through his jacket and cut him.
Startled, he drew his arm away instinctively from the slashing blade.
And then realised that he had surrendered the advantage.
The knifeman was onto him all too quickly, the blade still flailing wildly in front of him and as Drennan tried to duck back away from him to avoid it the man dropped down on top of him. Brennan caught the knifeman's wrist as he came and his gun was knocked from his fist. He tried to avoid falling to the ground and to hold the knifeman off, but as he did so the long blade stabbed at his face.
He had slowed the forward momentum of the knife and the wound was not deep but it had glanced across his forehead and opened a long cut. He felt blood running into his eyes and they blinked shut automatically.
Half blind, Drennan felt himself begin to panic and he tried to scramble away back toward the wall, tried to remember his training. He felt the man's hands pulling free of his grasp and he raised his own to his eyes, frantically trying to rub the blood from them to clear his vision.
He felt the body of the first man loll against him as he panicked and scrambled and suddenly his vision cleared enough to see the knifeman pulling himself free from the tangle and adjusting the blade in his grip, readying for another assault.
The dead man was on his arm now, pinning him and as he tried to shift it free he felt something else between the bones and flesh pressing down on him and the rough carpet of the stair. His gun, knocked loose from his grasp, had landed here. Drennan wrapped his fingers around it, sliding into place like a glove.
Above him his knife-wielding assailant tensed his arm, shifted his feet and raised the knife.
Drennan tugged once at the gun but it would not work free so fast and there was no more time to keep twisting and pulling beneath the sagging bulk of the corpse.
Twisting it in the small right angle of space between the floor and stair Drennan gripped hard and pulled on the trigger fast several times.
The shot erupted from the dead man's stomach and the trajectory of the first bullet took the knifeman in the wrist, knocking his hand back and the weapon into the air. The next shot bit into the plaster of the ceiling, but the twisting of the gun in Drennan's hand meant a quick end for his assailant. Three shots ploughed into his chest and throat and span the man on his feet, his loose arms whipping round against his body as he turned and then stumbled backward against the wall and down to the floor.
Drennan pulled his gun hand free of the corpse and breathed.
Above him he could hear voices and footsteps and there would be no pause for breath. He ejected the empty clip from the pistol and found a fresh one.
56
Tuesday. 1.35 am.
Slumped in the corner next to this other young woman Sarah was so frightened she had begun to shiver. Campbell was gone and she was now left to the mercy of this vile looking man whose hands had wandered so repugnantly over her body. After the other two men had left with Daniel she had cowered away from him, pressing herself against this woman she did not know.
Pacing the room, he had turned occasionally to glance down at the two of them, a look in his eye that made her blood run cold. She had not said anything to the other woman yet though she desperately
wanted to, to make some kind of connection with her now that she seemed like her only ally.
Then suddenly a flash of memory came to her. It had been a few days ago. She had been walking along his road, looking for the right number to his flat and then seen him, some fifty yards further up, hurrying - being hurried, so he said - into a car with a man and a woman.
Sarah turned her head and suddenly she was looking at the face of the woman that had been there that day.
What the hell?
Before she could say anything or even think about it there came from the doorway noises that turned all their heads. Running, shouting, falling and a strange popping noise that sounded out of place but chilling nonetheless. The tall man went suddenly alert and stared at the door for a moment before striding forward and looking out and down the passageway. As they all stared and tried to focus their hearing the sounds continued to drift up to them; more footsteps, grunting, another popping noise.
The tall man, without a look back, disappeared from the room and began to move down the hall and Sarah and the other woman exchanged a glance of bewildered terror. She wanted to run now too, to get away from this cold bare room and its filthy walls, away from these people. But she was frozen there, listening, a hostage to her fear.
*
Campbell was bouncing up the stairs now, stooped slightly forward to keep his balance. He stole a glance over his shoulder at the scene behind him.
The man in the coat with the handgun was rolling the bleeding, lifeless body from his legs and was turning now toward the stairs, raising the gun.
Campbell heard that terrible pop again and he felt, rather than saw, the second of his captors flung forward and down against the steep stairs behind him. In three more huge strides he was at the top and bounding along the hallway.
Careering around the corner he crunched clumsily against the wall and was suddenly face to face with Walker. He froze for a moment, uncertain of what to do. His overriding instinct was to get to Sarah but here he stood, between a rock and a hard place.
Walker looked at him questioningly but before he could speak there was a shout from behind and he span to see the gunman cresting the stairs and calling his name.
For a second Campbell was confused, shocked that this new man should know his name. Walker had heard the shout too and had suddenly flattened himself against the wall. Campbell looked back at the gunman, the barrel being swung up toward him, and he bolted out of sight around the corner and past Walker, instinct overriding reason.
Now Campbell moved back along the hall to the room that held Sarah and Angie and he turned again to check his back. Suddenly, as the gunman burst round the corner he was pounced on by Walker who grabbed the wrist of his gun-hand and pushed it high into the air and the two of them slammed against the far wall and began to wrestle.
With a push, his heavy coat flapping up around him, the gunman managed to swing a fist at Walker but the tall slender frame absorbed the punch. He kept his feet and flashed a knee up into the gunman's ribs.
Again they fell onto each other and Campbell could see the gun waving around above both their heads as they struggled with the weapon. Rolling along the wall as they fought, Campbell watched as suddenly the door they fell against crashed open and the two men went tumbling through into the room beyond.
Campbell found the door he was looking for and rushed in. The two of them were huddled into the corner as if trying to put every possible inch of space between them and the noises they were hearing and both looked terrified. They stared up at him for a moment frozen, bewildered.
'Come on!' he barked, 'NOW!'
*
In the rising tension Slater had forgotten the cold and very nearly also the pain in his head so focused was he on the house.
Warren, sitting next to him, rubbing his hands and glancing every so often at the red stained tea towel that Slater had hurriedly wrapped round his head, evidently had forgotten neither. He sat forward and tried to peer through the gloom at the front of the house but there was nothing to tell from here. There was silence and nothing moved at the house or anywhere else in this street.
'You think we should call George back? Might be worth sticking our head round the door now,' Warren said but the apprehension in his voice gave him away.
The both of them were torn. The wait was agonising and they were itching to get involved, but they had no idea how many men were in there and seeing Drennan go bursting in had done nothing for their confidence. If those guy had his own agenda now there was no telling how he would react to seeing Slater and Warren follow him in.
'He'll ring back,' Slater replied flatly. He was struggling with his emotions now and knew that he shared Warren's reluctance to get involved and the probable risks they would be facing. Drennan looked like he was armed when he had burst in through the door and he had dealt with Walker's boys enough times to know that they were dangerous even when they weren't carrying.
Even so, it was Angie stuck in there in the middle of it. All of them had an affection for her. More than once Slater had felt a big-brotherly compulsion to sort out some disrespectful young lad only to find that Angie had dealt with him more than capably. Slater also had a burning desire to get his hands on Campbell again, to hit him and hit him until he'd handed over the stick and then begged and then cried and then bled.
Slater felt though, through the fury, a strange feeling toward Campbell developing. A certain grudging respect. Slater had dealt with plenty of people far harder than the young man, far tougher and more ruthless individuals. But none, he thought, so resilient, so resourceful, so pig-headedly determined as he was. He just didn't know when he was beaten. As much as he wanted to knock him about, he couldn't ignore that in Campbell. If Warren or Cooper had shown some of his nous they'd never be in this mess in the first place.
'Get a bit closer,' Slater said.
Warren slipped the car into gear and rolled quietly away from the kerb and along the road. Back in the shadows where they had been hiding their view was poor. Slater didn't much want to go in there but he they needed to get a better view, and besides, they couldn't sit around waiting for too much longer.
Pulling level with the front of the house Warren slowed to a crawl to get a good look. The front door was open but only a crack, seemingly having swung closed behind Drennan on his dramatic entry. Light shone from the hallway beyond but he could see no shadows giving signs of movement.
He turned his head quickly to check the road was still clear in front of him and when he turned back he thought he spotted something in the light of the doorway, some shift of shadows to betray activity inside. He grabbed Warren's arm and the other man tapped the brakes and the car stopped.
In a blaze of light the door crashed open and three running figures filled the frame. Slater stared in astonishment as they came racing down the path and as they dashed into the road he realised that he recognised Angie; tired and gaunt looking and terrified. He saw that she had spotted his car and was shepherding the other two toward it. He noticed then that all three had their hands tied.
The rear door popped open as Angie span round to reach the handle with her hands and then all three were falling into the seat, shifting and tumbling awkwardly across the leather. Angie was last in.
'Go!' she shrieked. 'Fucking go!'
But Warren didn't need to be told twice and already he was waking up the neighbours with the engine growling noisily and the tyres squealing away down the road.
57
Tuesday. 2.30am.
There was menace in the room from every corner and Sarah's eyes were wide and darting.
Slater in the corner, all forearms and fury, looked ready to spring across the carpet and start pounding him to the floor as if giving him the slip outside in Liverpool Street all those days ago was still as fresh in his mind as the wound on his temple.
The other two were somehow less frightening.
The coloured man, Campbell noted, was a laid back character and seemed delighted at the look on Gresham's face when they had brought his daughter back to him.
Gresham for his part had not let Angie go since he had engulfed her in a bear hug ten minutes previously and he did not look as if he would let her go ever again. He did though, and all too soon.
Campbell and Sarah were sat on two straight-backed chairs in the corner where Warren and Slater had parked them minutes before. As yet Slater had held back from laying into him though he had not exactly been gentle manhandling Campbell from the car to the house. He seemed to be waiting for a cue from his boss.
Gresham walked slowly toward Campbell, eyeing him and Sarah both with exaggerated interest as if to highlight their compromised position. He looked from Campbell to Slater's head and back again and raised his eyebrows. He had been waiting for this moment, Campbell knew, and he was milking it.
'Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?' said Gresham with a wolfish grin.
Campbell's cheeks flushed at the implied threat.
Gresham stared down at Sarah and Campbell stared up at him in turn as he did so.
'Is that the best you can do?'
Gresham looked more surprised than Campbell to hear Sarah speak, and more so at the defiant, almost mocking tone of her voice.
'You what?' Gresham said.
'You heard her George you fucking bully.' Campbell couldn't stop the words before he'd said them.
In a flash, Gresham had him pinned by to the wall, his sweater bunched on his chest in two huge fists.
'You, my son, have got a big mouth and a small brain.' Gresham was right in his face, lips curled in a snarl, eyes narrowed.
'Stop it.'
Campbell saw his eyes flicker before he realised that it wasn't Sarah's voice.
'Stop it Dad,' Angie repeated.
'You can leave now love,' Gresham said without taking his eyes off Campbell.