Riot Act (16 page)

The second two shots cracked harmlessly overhead, way high.

As soon as the first round struck, the Cherokee’s wheel was wrenched over, with the driver’s side furthest away from us. It skated to a halt and I saw the door fly open.

Sean came out hard and fast, moving straight into cover. Even if Nasir had his nerve intact, he would have to have been at marksman standard to have stood half a chance of hitting him.

I took the opportunity presented by this new distraction to dodge forwards, stepping quickly in to Nasir’s body and wrapping my arms round his right hand. I locked on to his wrist with a tenacity that Friday would have been proud of, and dug steely fingers into the nearest available pressure points.

With hindsight, it was a damned stupid move. Tackling someone who’s pointing a loaded gun at you, I mean, but the whole thing had a surreal quality about it. Any moment the unseen director was going to shout, “Cut!” and we’d all go off to grab a coffee together before the next take.

As I twisted my fingers, Nasir’s grip on the weapon started to loosen, which would have worked out just fine, had Roger not realised what was happening. He gave a kind of strangled scream and jumped me, landing a vicious punch in my kidneys.

My legs buckled. I let go of Nasir’s hand, and went down on my hands and knees. He jumped away from me and I looked up to stare straight into the muzzle of the FN, only a few feet away.

I could see Nasir’s face beyond the wobbling barrel, watched as he screwed up the courage to pull the trigger while he still had the time to do it. At that range, there was no way he could possibly miss.

“
Roger!
” Sean’s voice suddenly yelled out from somewhere behind the Cherokee, making all of us jump. “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?”

“Just stay out of this,” Roger shouted back desperately. His voice gave way, close to tears, as he flicked his gaze back to Nasir, and then to me. “You don’t understand,” he cried. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Leave you alone to become an accessory to murder, you mean?” Sean gave a harsh laugh. “Oh yeah,
sure
.” He paused, then added more gently, “Whatever she’s done, Rog, it’s not worth killing her for.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roger told him bitterly. “You don’t know what’s going on round here.”

Nasir glanced to Roger, agitated, and while his attention was off line I brought my hands up sharply, scattering gravel into the boys’ faces. It was never going to do them much damage, but at least both of them jerked further away from me.

At that moment, as though on cue, Sean burst round the front wing of the Cherokee and came charging across the ground between us like an avenging angel. Dressed in black, face set, he was enough to strike terror into an enemy far more resolute than Nasir.

As it was, Nasir got off one wild shot before the FN mis-fed the next round and locked up solid. If he’d been halfway proficient he could have had the blockage cleared in moments and slotted Sean while he was still yards away.

As it was, he rattled fruitlessly at the jammed slide, threw a forlorn, fearful look to Roger, and bolted, taking the useless weapon with him. Roger was only a stride or two behind him.

They took off towards the area to the back of the gym. Sean came thundering past me and there was a deadly intent in his eyes as he followed. The boys were heading for the broken-down wire fencing behind the building. An easy escape onto open ground piled with the rubble of a demolished factory. If they made it that far, they’d be free and clear.

I hauled myself upright and, with more misgivings than I cared to count, I turned and gave chase.

I wanted to find out why Roger and Nasir were so keen on killing me, and if the look on his face was anything to go by, I needed to do that before Sean got his hands on either one of them.

As I burst round the corner of the main gym building there was enough ambient light for me to see the boys separate. Sean’s stride faltered, uncertain for once which to follow.

I was about to thank him for probably saving my life, but as he heard me closing he turned fast and made a snap decision. “Go after Roger,” he rapped out. “I’ll take the other one.”

My words of thanks were swallowed quickly. “Roger’s
your
brother,” I argued, stubborn, as I reached him. “You should go after him yourself.”

His face tightened. People didn’t question Sean’s orders, least of all me. “The other kid may have managed to work out how to clear that pistol,” he said darkly as he started forward again, offering back over his shoulder. “I can take care of myself.”

I opened my mouth to say, “And I can’t?” and then shut it again. Did I really want to persuade him to let me go chasing somebody who was fleeing, scared half to death, and armed?

Instead, I held my tongue as I set off in pursuit of Roger.

Sean’s brother had made it through the tattered wire fence leaving a torn strip of T-shirt behind to mark his hasty passing. The pale cloth flapped feebly as it caught the light, like a pennant. I ducked through the spiked gap and followed, slithering precariously over the rubble under foot. In the darkness it was lethal.

Some months before, the demolition team had brought down the structure of the old factory building behind the gym and then knocked off – permanently, it seemed. In the intervening period the weeds had done their best to camouflage the ruins they’d left behind with tough-stemmed grasses that whipped against my legs as I ran.

Roger had a decent head start on me, but he wasn’t exactly at his peak when it came to physical fitness. He was fading fast, and he knew it. I caught a glimpse of him, dodging clumsily out of sight behind one of the huge piles of broken bricks. He was stumbling as though exhausted and it galvanised me into an extra burst of speed.

That was probably what saved me.

Behind the bricks, I found Roger wrestling with a length of three-by-two that was tethered into the hard-packed ground by loops of rusty wire.

I came hying into view just as he managed to wrench it free, but he had no time to prepare his ambush. His head jerked, and he tried to wrench the timber up more quickly, but his reactions were badly off.

Hesitation would have been fatal, and I didn’t have time to mess around. I shifted my direction slightly, locking my arm out straight to the side. I hit him from a flat run, just about where his collarbones met, putting the whole of my bodyweight and momentum behind my clenched forearm.

Roger’s feet literally flew up in front of him as the top half of his body was snapped back, like he’d just had a belt off the mains. All it lacked to complete the picture was a gentle wisp of smoke and a bad home perm.

It took him a while to think about getting up again and I admit I made no move to help. Instead, I thoughtfully toed the lump of wood so it was well out of his reach, and stood waiting for him to recover enough to take an active part in conversation.

I knew I should have felt guilty about the placing of that punch. I’d deliberately aimed a fraction high, which was malicious at best, and could have been very unhealthy if I’d got it wrong. Then I remembered his urgent commands to Nasir to shoot me, and faced him coolly unrepentant.

After a minute or so, Roger’s breathing returned to some semblance of normality. He used one hand to push himself up into a sitting position, rubbing at his throat with the other and eyeing me warily. I made sure I was standing with my back to the lights.

“So, what’s this all about, Roger?” I asked, surprised that I could put the question without rancour.

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said and, while his face was sour, there was the faintest trace of fear, like an underlying thread.

“Try me.”

He gave me a look that would have been taken off him if he’d tried to go into a nightclub wearing it, and remained pigheadedly silent.

I squatted so my eyes were on his level. He met my gaze cursorily, then slid his own away. “I think it’s
you
who doesn’t understand the shit you’re in, Rog,” I said lightly. “In fact, you’re in it so deep you need a snorkel.”

I was rewarded with a sneer.

“This isn’t just aggravated burglary any more, Roger,” I said, speaking slowly and keeping my voice neutral. “This is serious. You can’t claim this was accidental, or it wasn’t you. This is full-on premeditated attempted murder.”

I let that one settle for a moment. “Attempted murder,” I repeated, pressing on without mercy, refusing to let myself weaken, “is an adult crime, Rog, and you’ll be dealt with in an adult court. Left to rot away your youth in an adult hell-hole.”

The fright jumped, full-fledged, in his eyes, in his face. “I can’t!” he cried, suddenly very much a child.

“Oh you can,” I said, “and you will. You’ve gone way beyond the limits of teenage rebellion this time. What do you think O’Bryan’s going to do about that?”

I glanced at him then, wanting to see how he was taking the information on board. He looked stricken. Tormented. I suppose I should have been pleased, but it wasn’t much of a victory.

Roger opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak we heard it, and it stopped both of us stone cold in our tracks.

A single gunshot.

The echo of it rolled over and round us, stark and uncompromising. I froze, straining for additional sounds, but there was nothing.

Silence.

There were no further shots fired. No angry protests. No agonised screams. No evidence of continued pursuit, either, which
could
have meant Nasir had simply missed.

Or it could have meant that Sean was dead.

My mouth dried instantly as my system shut down unnecessary functions, like the production of saliva. My heartrate had accelerated faster than a top fuel dragster. The shaft of panic that arrowed through me was quite dazzling in its intensity.

There was a time when I’d come damned close to praying for Sean Meyer’s death. But not like this.

Oh no. If anyone was going to kill him, I’d wanted it to be me.

With half my brain numbed into insensibility by the picture my imagination had painted, I’m almost surprised it took Roger so long to take advantage.

I caught the faintest glimmer of colour and movement from the corner of my eye, then his lashing foot connected hard with the underside of my chin and it was my turn to go pitching raggedly onto my backside among the brickwork.

By the time I’d laboured to my feet, I took one look at Roger’s dim figure disappearing into the darkness on the other side of the site, and ruefully gave up any idea of the chase.

I put a hand up to my tender jaw, wriggling it experimentally a few times, but there was no permanent damage. Still, as an object lesson in what happens when you’re stupid enough to take your eye off the ball, I suppose it could have been a lot worse.

***

When I got back to the gym, I found Sean leaning on the front wing of the Cherokee, waiting for me. He looked very much alive and kicking. I ran through a track-list of emotions about that, most of which I didn’t care to put names to.

He straightened up as soon as he saw me, instantly alert like a cat, and lamentably unruffled by events. “You OK?”

I bit back an angry retort about why should he care, and nodded. “You?”

“Yeah.” He’d seen, of course, that I was alone and gave me a lopsided smile that suddenly took ten years off his harsh features. “And Roger?” he asked.

“Long gone, I’m afraid,” I said shortly, half-heartedly batting some of the brickdust and extinguisher powder from my jogging pants. It was a losing battle. “What about Nasir?”

“The other kid? Likewise,” he said wryly. “He freed the blockage and his aim seemed to be getting better with practise. I came down strongly in favour of tactical retreat.”

I shrugged and walked past him, wanting to check on the external cabinet that housed the electricity meter, which was on the front of the building. Even without benefit of a torch I could clearly see that the cover was hanging off and the main circuit breaker had been thrown.

“They knew just where to look,” Sean commented quietly from behind me.

“Hardly surprising,” I pointed out, without turning round, “seeing as how Nasir’s an electrician.”

“Who was he, the other kid?”

“Nasir Gadatra. He’s the son of my next-door neighbour,” I filled in. “He and your baby brother seem to be big mates.”

Sean didn’t answer, so I clicked the power on again and the fluorescent tubes inside the gym vibrated back into life. We went in to survey the damage. I was expecting it to be bad, and I wasn’t destined to be disappointed.

The now-defunct extinguisher lay on its side on the floor at the epicentre of a sea of the pinkish white powder. The stuff had coated the carpet in the immediate area so thick you couldn’t tell the original colour of the weave. It had blasted up onto the walls too, and layered round the machinery like dust in an old abandoned crypt.