Corpse in Waiting (22 page)

‘You're absolutely right, of course,' he sighed.

We waited.

Seemingly a couple of decades later and when I was of the firm opinion that all oracles should be bagged up and reconsigned to Greek mythology, four cars arrived at the kind of speed that suggested their drivers had some serious purpose in mind. They swung around and formed a half-circle at the bottom of the iron stairs that led up to the flats like prairie wagons preparing for an attack by the Sioux. In comparative silence at least eight men then ran up the stairs and entered the flat.

‘Could it be undercover cops?' I hissed.

‘Not unless they're playing a very strange game. And if they've arrest in mind they wouldn't have turned up in unmarked cars.'

The grandmother of all gun battles erupted, one of the flat's windows seeming to explode outwards under a hail of bullets.

Patrick went, shouting over his shoulder, ‘For God's sake stay hidden until I tell you it's safe!'

Those remaining in the cars started firing at him as soon as they saw movement, shots pinging off everything nearby. I had no intention of countering my instructions this time but it was important to give those firing something to think about so I ran forward using the parked cars as cover, and, when in range and from the shelter of someone's people carrier, performed my usual target practice on the vehicles' tyres. Reloading, I then remembered my training and, bending low, shifted position, just in time as it happened, hearing the crash of breaking glass behind me.

OK then, we wanted no one being cowardly by remaining in cars where they could take more shots at Patrick. I did a little light strafing of rear windows and very soon doors on the far sides of the vehicles were being flung open and whose within baling out. I realized they might come in my direction. If so, good, I was not staying around. Moving quickly I scuttled off to my right, away from what a man would probably refer to as ‘the action', and in the general direction of where I thought Patrick had gone.

Over on the far side of the car park I paused behind a large concrete pillar, one of several that supported an overhead structure of some kind to the rear of a shop, and crouched down, peering around it. People were lining the windows in the other flats staring out. The firing was more sporadic now, men furiously shouting at one another, in Italian, I thought. There was then another shot and a man staggered out of the door and pitched headlong down the stairs.

‘You bastard!' someone inside yelled.

There was then another shot and a horrible scream followed by several shots in quick succession. The ensuing silence was broken, for the second time that night, by the howling sirens of approaching police cars.

Watching, I remained where I was. Moments later a short, tubby figure cautiously appeared in the doorway but dived back inside again when someone took a shot at him. Seconds later two people were silhouetted against the light, one holding the other in front of him as a shield, the impression being of a gun rammed in the man's back. It made no difference, there was a burst of fire and the one in front toppled down the staircase, no doubt riddled with bullets.

‘The idiot should have put the light out,' said a voice softly close by, from behind another pillar.

‘I was convinced you were inside,' I whispered, feeling weak with relief.

‘I thought I'd wait and see who wins. With any luck the Met'll use their loaf and do the same, although I reckon this lot'll jump ship like rats when the law finally arrives. What the hell are they doing – stopped at traffic lights?'

‘Who do you reckon arrived with back-up? Martino?'

‘That's a fairly safe bet.'

‘The drivers of the cars are still around somewhere.'

‘Two are and that's who's doing the shooting. You must have winged one of them as he's under the stairs not feeling too good. Another came this way and is now in that black bin over there marked non-hazardous waste.' Patrick chuckled cold-bloodedly. ‘Now I know exactly where you are I'll go and find the other two. Please keep right out of the way.'

He went away again.

The police arrived with a flourish like a scene from
The Bill
, marksmen from a firearms unit immediately taking up positions. After this flurry of activity everything shivered into an uneasy stillness although I was sure I could hear groaning inside the flat.

Then a man appeared in the doorway. ‘I'm the only one not dead or badly injured,' he called, leaning against the door frame.

He was answered by a voice amplified by a megaphone. ‘Armed police. Come down, arms up and lie face down on the ground.'

He limped down and lay there, close to the two bodies.

I could imagine senior officers conferring and it was not difficult to guess where their considerations would lie. Informers had said that these mobsters were intent on shooting up a nick so this might be a ruse and they were now going to make do with a mobile unit instead. I did wonder how many of those indoors were fit for such activity after all the firing. On the other hand they were not the SAS and quite a high percentage of the shots had probably missed. There was also the chance that this latest development was merely a time-wasting exercise and the remainder of those still mobile were now escaping by climbing out of the windows at the front on to the wide canopy above the shops and making their escape. I sincerely hoped a watch was in place out there.

All at once and as if my reasoning had weirdly made it happen there were shouts somewhere at the front of the building and the sound of shots. Seconds later yelled orders from the man with the megaphone sent several armed personnel pounding up the stairs, a couple peeling off to grab the prone suspect first to virtually sling him into the arms of other colleagues, another group running through the opening towards the main road. More yells, more shots. Then, comparative silence again.

A policeman appeared in the doorway of the flat, went back inside after a couple of doors had been slammed and then reappeared.

‘Well?' asked the megaphone.

‘I think we've sorted it, sir.'

FOURTEEN

I
left the security of the pillar and cautiously looked around me. I could not see Patrick but did not really expect to as the lighting in the area was poor, besides which in the present circumstances he would make a point of not being anywhere where he could be spotted. Then, fleetingly, I did see him as he crossed a space between the line of parked cars. He had someone with him. I headed for where I thought he might end up, at the line of police vehicles. All the time more were arriving.

‘One of the drivers got away,' he was saying to DCI Leyland as I arrived, handing over the man's handgun. ‘You'll find another, unconscious, in the black rubbish bin over there and a third beneath the stairs, wounded – that's if he hasn't done a runner by now.'

Leyland saw me, looked through me and said to Patrick, ‘So how come you're here?' Whether it was because of the erratic lighting from vehicle headlights I was not sure but the man looked haggard.

‘I want Tony Capelli.'

‘You can't have him.'

‘Only to arrest him. You can have him immediately afterwards.'

‘The answer's still no.'

‘It's of no consequence to you surely.'

‘What's it all about?'

‘Personal reasons.'

Leyland half turned away. ‘Bugger off, Gillard.'

‘Is he here?'

‘Until I've been inside and assessed what's happened out the front I can't answer that.'

‘Do you know what he looks like?'

‘Er – no.'

‘Then you might need me to identify him.'

‘I don't need SOCA here at all. Leave.'

He was then forced to give priority to the people who were clamouring for his attention. Patrick, who had already parted with his prisoner, tucked an arm through mine and steered a course away from the group, between the cars and, taking a slightly circuitous route, over towards the stairs. The flashing blue lights of ambulances pulling up in the road outside – there was no room for them now at the rear – reflected eerily off walls and windows, feet pounded pavements, the sound echoing, the general effect almost surreal. Beneath the stairs the wounded man had been found and the two bodies were being examined for any signs of life. We paused by these but neither appeared to be the Capelli brothers.

‘SOCA,' Patrick snapped to the first person we met at the top of the steps, producing his warrant card. ‘I must warn you that the carved wooden dragons in there might conceal booby-traps that could well have been reloaded since I was last here.'

‘Do you know about these things then, sir?' asked the man, looking alarmed.

‘Yes, I do. May we come in?'

We entered. There was a strong draught, presumably coming from the open windows at the front. One glance at my immediate surroundings told me that scenes of crime people would be here for a long time. The place was shot to pieces; bullet holes everywhere, torn fabrics, pictures and ornaments reduced to splinters and shards. Amazingly, there appeared to be no spilt blood in the hallway and only one body was in sight, just inside the door of the first room we looked into, that of Martino Capelli. I would not have known this if Patrick had not told me as he looked nothing like his younger brother. He had clearly not expected to die, the look of surprise forever frozen on his dark, heavy features.

‘If everyone would just stay exactly where they are for a moment,' Patrick said loudly. ‘While I check for anti-intruder devices.'

Personally I thought that if any of the dragons was going to do its stuff it would have done so by now but, hey, we were in, weren't we?

From where I was standing in the doorway I heard someone out of my line of vision laugh quietly as Patrick went over to what I remembered to be the biggest dragon of the lot, almost as tall as he was. When he discovered the hidden compartment in the front of the neck and the tiny weapon it contained there were muttered exclamations of surprise.

‘It failed to go off,' Patrick reported, tipping the ammunition out on to the carpet. ‘Do all stay in this room while I examine the others.'

Two or three sobering minutes elapsed while he went from room to room.

There was a sharp crack.

‘Are you all right?' I yelled.

‘Yes, it fired as soon as I touched it,' he replied from one of the bedrooms. ‘Bloody dangerous things, especially as it wasn't activated.'

Leyland arrived, breathing hard. ‘I thought I told you two to bugger off.'

‘Patrick's just disarming the dragons,' I told him.

Predictably, he prepared to lose his temper.

Patrick appeared. ‘Sorry, there was no time to find gloves so my prints are on them. Although most of them were switched off I've removed and left all the weapons and ammo on the floor. I suggest you get firearms people to deal with them.'

Leyland said nothing and marched into the living room. ‘That's Martino Capelli,' he said, giving the body the most brief of glances. ‘How many more are indoors?'

He was told that one slightly wounded man was in the bathroom, under guard, vomiting, there were two dead bodies in the kitchen and a door to what was guessed to be a separate lavatory was jammed or locked, someone presumably inside. Leyland then gave them the information that the rest had tried to escape out of the windows and had been, or were being, apprehended.

‘No one hiding under the beds?' Patrick offered from where we were standing to one side.

‘Search under them,' the DCI ordered his team and they filed out through the door into the adjoining other living room from which there was access to the rest of the flat without going into the hall. ‘Break down the door of the bog,' he shouted after them.

‘So who's going to shoot first?' Patrick queried mildly.

Leyland glared at him. ‘They know what they're doing.' His mobile rang and he answered it.

I went back into the hall. Patrick came with me but I noticed that he kept a watchful eye on Leyland from near the doorway. Distressing noises were still coming from the bathroom, which was around a corner at the end of a short corridor, the bedrooms off it.

‘There are drawers under the beds,' I whispered. ‘No space for anyone to hide.'

‘So there are,' Patrick responded.

‘D'you reckon Tony Capelli's the one in the loo?'

‘I don't think so. His poisonous aftershave tells me he's—'

The door of the large built-in cupboard right behind the DCI then smashed open and two men erupted from it. I saw they were armed and that was all before Patrick gave me a violent shove and I sprawled on to the floor. There were several shots, deafening indoors.

‘– a lot closer than that,' I heard Patrick finish saying. ‘Are you all right, guv?'

On all fours, I travelled to the doorway and looked in, just as the others poured in through the other. Leyland had obviously dived for cover behind a huge sofa – it had borne the brunt of the attack – and was now emerging, a little pale. Two men lay dead on the floor, both shot in the head. One was Tony Capelli. I had to look away.

Patrick put the Glock back in its shoulder harness and went to look down on the corpses. Although he had spoken in light-hearted fashion to Leyland there was no hint of triumph or contentment. He had saved the DCI's life and that was all.

The next morning I got the impression that Greenway was so delighted that he would have Patrick's report of the night's activities put in a gold frame and hung on the wall of his office. Handwritten too, the operative's scribe being too worn out to oblige the night before – it had been two thirty by the time we got back to the hotel – while it was still fresh in his mind and he not too familiar with my laptop. So I had slept the deep sleep of the exhausted, not even hearing him come to bed but seeing him just before closing my eyes sitting at the desk cum dressing table, the lamp on it the only illumination. The light shone on a grave face, a little careworn now but very much the man I had fallen in love with at school. If Alexandra was still out there she wasn't going to have him.