Highbridge (38 page)

It was a moment for the bearded one to realise that Fatchops was walking rather oddly. Like some form of giant, obese penguin. With two smaller penguins following. Too late his vision cleared and the penguins were upon him. He tried to react but even without the weight of the girls he found himself trapped under the falling mass of Fatchops. Luke stayed with them as Matt went on through the house, MP5 raised and ready.

It took him seconds to check the ground floor and go up the stairs two at a time, opting for speed and surprise rather than stealth. Four doors off a small landing. He went into the first. Bathroom. Nothing. Second door. Messy bedroom. But nothing. He crossed the landing. Third room. This was it. On the bed was a man having sex with a girl young enough to be his granddaughter. He was overweight. White. To one side were two others, more like uncles, one black, recording it on his phone while the other, Asian, was stripping off. Obviously next.

The girl was crying and asking for the old guy to stop which, unfortunately, seemed to be what he was after, as he turned and played up to the phone. His gurning face turned to shock as he saw Matt, but the phone-holder didn't, until he was flipped round and felt the full force of a head butt. He fell next to the other one, now trying to dance away with his jeans round his ankles, who then felt his legs kicked sideways, his head hit the floor and then his chest crushed as Grandpa was yanked backwards off the girl and dumped on top of him. As Matt's boot came down on Grandpa's genitals, the girl rolled off the bed and curled up in a corner.

While zipping all their hands, Matt tried to make reassuring noises and gestures to the girl until she calmed down, finally appreciating that he might be a good guy. He then indicated that she should stay put, while he went to check out the remaining room. When he got there, his stomach turned. Curled up on the bed was Joey's girl's mate. The one he had seen being dragged away the other night. Damn.

Downstairs. Luke had other problems. Crunching glass. Someone was in the chippy. Having secured the bearded one Luke knew he wouldn't be going anywhere, especially as he had tethered him to Fatchops. He gestured for the girls to be quiet. They nodded. Too frightened to do otherwise. He then slowly made his way back through the food preparation area and took a quick look from the darkened space into the chippy, lit by the sodium glow from the street lights. It was Hilary Jardine.

JOEY HAD MADE
a critical mistake. He had let his heart rule his head. Despite being told not to stop, not to look back, for anything, he couldn't walk past the old boy struggling to get his wheelie bin out the front door. In the dark. The darkness he was responsible for. He stopped to help, but then found himself inevitably turning and glancing down the road – to see Hilary Jardine stepping into the chippy. Could he just walk away now? Not look back? Knowing what Luke had told him about fighting his way out?

No matter what. Luke had repeated it. Over and over again No matter what. You can't get involved. Walk away, Joey told himself. Walk away. But he couldn't. Not when two of his oldest friends were about to confront each other. It would only end badly for one of them. And Joey knew that would be Hilary. No matter what came after, right there on that street, he knew Luke would do anything to get away. And if anything did happen to Hilary, it would be his fault.

Luke was also running through the scenario. She's sussed it. But she was alone. Out of uniform. No blue lights. What's that mean? Trying to prevent something? Old times' sake? Only one way to find out. He took another quick look. She had her back to him, examining the smashed door. He pulled off his balaclava and unclipped the MP5 as he quietly stepped out into the shop, putting the gun just behind the counter, out of her sight.

‘What you doing here?'

She spun round to face him. The confirmation clear. ‘Should I be asking you the same?'

‘Just saying goodbye, actually.'

She started to walk across but he held his hand up, with a quick glance sideways to the MP5. ‘Don't.'

‘Why?'

‘There's something here you shouldn't see.'

‘Really?' It was a challenge. He was questioning her authority. She pointed at his body armour. ‘And I suppose that is to protect you from the hot oil?'

He held her stare. Knowing this was the point. No going back. Win or lose. But one last try.

‘Hilary, please, can you just take my word.' Then he hardened the edge. The language became clipped. Of command. ‘You do not … Want to get involved in this. Right now.'

‘Think I've seen enough already,' she responded. Her own crisp tone now that of the Superintendent, not the old friend. This was her jurisdiction. Her authority.

But he came back. Harder. One of them had to get the upper hand. ‘Believe me. If you do get involved you'll have to act. And …' He paused. Another of those moments. No going back. ‘And I'll have to respond.'

It was unemotional. Calm. Cold. A coldness that Hilary had not been expecting. Just as she had not expected to feel her pulse rate increasing in direct proportion to her anxiety, as the preconception of the hot-headed guy she used to know was forced out of her head. This was now nothing more than a threat standing in front of her. The past friendship might just allow her to back away, but nothing more. She had to let the training come though. Even though she was wearing a Per Una Quilted Stormwear overcoat instead of body armour, and armed with nothing more than her John Lewis Coney across body handbag.

So they stood. The head girl up against the playground vigilante. But a lot of time, water and trauma had flowed by. And, back then, neither of them carried weapons. She was sure that was what he had on the countertop. Just as she knew he was right. If she saw him with a weapon there was no choice. No going back. He was also right about one other thing. She didn't want that. Right now. Which is why she had come alone.

‘OK,' she said. ‘I'll blink first, if that's what you want.'

She moved to one side, deliberately allowing him to see that she was obscuring any possible view of what he might have on the countertop. But she also wanted to let him know that she was working it out. She pointed at the single point sling hanging from his shoulder. ‘And I don't suppose that is for attaching your ID to?'

‘Among other things,' he replied. But he smiled. That moment had been defused.

But not for long. Luke suddenly caught something in his peripheral vision. A head taking a quick glance through the window. He stepped towards the counter – towards his weapon, Hilary thought, as she saw his eyes were now locked on the window. She turned to see a figure, silhouetted against the street lights, slowly making for the door.

‘No, stop,' Hilary called, spinning back and forth between Luke and the approaching figure. ‘Stop. Stay where you are. Both of you.'

She was relieved to see Luke step back from the counter, but surprised by the reason.

‘What? What's going on?' Joey asked from the door.

Back in the house, Matt had corralled the gang-bangers downstairs and had them lined up, on their knees next to Fatchops and the bearded one. A motley multi-ethnic mix. He had the phone they'd been using upstairs, and was going along slowly, recording each of their faces. A bewildered Becky was helping the now dressed but still sobbing girl from upstairs into the room to sit next to the equally bewildered girls on the settee. They had come for a party and had ended up in a horror movie.

‘What the hell you want?' Fatchops asked. Defiant. ‘No money here.'

The beast within Matt was on him in a moment, back-handing his head. Not enough to put him down, just enough to shut him up.

‘What I want, is for you to stop doing what you do out there.' He pointed to the chippy, then turned to the others, held up the phone. ‘What I want, is for you lot to leave these kids alone. But you probably can't, can you. So I'll have to stop you, won't I?'

He raised the MP5 and put the red dot on Fatchops's head. Which was when he heard someone fumbling with the back door. Someone was trying to get in.

Out front, Luke and Hilary were still holding their ground, holding their stares, as Joey was babbling about having fancied some fish and chips, then saw the door smashed in, and then seeing them. Hilary knew this was all nonsense. She had seen the look that quickly went between Luke and Joey. She hadn't been able to read it but she knew it was connected to her earlier suspicions about Luke's return.

‘Go on, then. What's going on?' Joey asked again. Carrying on the charade. Hoping to find a way out. For them all. But that wasn't likely to happen as the street outside started to strobe blue.

They turned to look in unison. Joey looked alarmed as Luke again moved towards the MP5. Hilary turned back and held out an arm for him to stop.

‘It's nothing to do with me. This time, trust me, Luke. Let me check.' Then she turned to Joey. ‘Stop him. Whatever he's planning.'

It was the old friend, now crunching across the glass towards the street.

Joey and Luke watched her pulling her warrant card from her handbag as she met the approaching patrol car. Ordinary markings. And ordinary beat bobbies getting out. This was not an armed response team.

‘I told you not to—' Luke started to say, but Joey cut across him.

‘I know, but what did you expect me to do, seeing her coming in here? But now's your chance. Take it.'

Luke took another look outside. Hilary was in deep conversation and pointing up and down the street. It didn't seem like she was summoning reinforcements. There was still time. He picked up the MP5, causing Joey to step back in surprise.

Luke grinned. ‘What did you think we were going to do? Hand out Bibles and hope they found God?'

‘Er … No … But I …' He was back to the gibbering schoolboy in front of the military pro.

‘We're doing this because we want to, Joe. Remember. Our choice. Just as it's our choice not to be taken. Win or lose.'

‘What? You'd really shoot … You'd shoot your way out?'

‘That's what we do. And what you do, is forget this.' He tapped the MP5. ‘And tell her –' he nodded out the window – ‘you know nothing.'

‘OK,' Joey said, turning to glance at Hilary outside. When he turned back, Luke had gone.

Matt, behind the rear door as it opened, stepped out and hit the new arrival square between the shoulder blades with the MP5. Even with live rounds it was still a very expensive, but effective, club. The new arrival hit the wall opposite and then sideways, his head going one way, his legs the other as Matt executed the well-practised move, letting the target's own body weight do most of the damage. Matt was just bringing in the prone figure to add to the line-up when Luke came through from the front of the shop, carrying his MP5 and saying they had to go, and Becky started screaming.

‘Stop … Stop … You can't …'

She flung herself on the new arrival. It was Husani.

Luke pulled her away as Matt forced Husani down on to his knees. Was this more of what he'd witnessed up at the quarry? Victim dependency? But there was something else in her voice.

‘Please … please … He's not one of them. He isn't.'

And then it echoed back. ‘I'm not, I'm not,' Husani gabbled, realising the situation he had walked into. He then turned to Fatchops. Anger. Real. And rattled off something in what sounded to Matt like Serbian, but whatever it was the disgust and disdain was clear. As was the blaze of anger in Fatchops's eyes about something of which he'd just been accused.

Matt stepped forward and backhanded Husani across the head. ‘English.' They had been in this one before, too.

Becky leapt up. ‘Leave him alone. He's done nothing.'

Matt rounded on her. ‘And you can understand English. So, sit down and keep quiet.'

She did so, but only after Husani nodded. Then turned to Matt. ‘I said he had let me down. I asked him to watch over her.'

‘And I did,' Fatchops replied angrily. In English. ‘She was safe in another room. Until they came.' He glared at Luke and Matt.

Husani ignored him, still trying to make a connection with Matt. ‘I asked him to do this, while I,' he threw another look of disdain at Fatchops. ‘Until I went to get money.'

‘What for?' Matt asked. Still suspicious.

Husani hesitated. And looked to Becky. She didn't hesitate.

‘We're going away. To get married.'

She might as well have thrown a stun grenade.

Outside in the street, Hilary had discovered that the patrol car was just that. And had been asked to check out the chippy in case there was a young girl, Becky Hargreaves, hanging out there. Then they saw the street in darkness. Hilary had explained her presence by saying she had been passing and saw the chippy door broken. She was about to call for backup, but in the meantime they should check with the neighbours who were out trying to discover what had happened to the electricity.

She stood for a moment. Point of decision. Or no return. She looked up and down the street at the growing number of people drawn by the blue lights. Sometimes they attract more trouble than they solve, she thought, as she reached into the car and switched them off.

‘That might give Luke some reassurance,' she said to Joey as he stepped out of the chippy, still trying to digest what Luke had just told him.

‘He's gone anyway,' Joey said, hoping it would slow her down. It didn't. She pushed past him and went inside, making sure she was out of earshot of the street before calling Luke's name.

Joey decided, this time, to take Luke's advice and stayed outside.

After a moment, Hilary decided to go through to the back, but found her way blocked by Luke. That was the last thing he wanted her to do. Once again he left the MP5 out of her sight.

‘They came looking for a young girl,' Hilary immediately offered.