The Drop (21 page)

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S
arah was on the floor. She was sitting up, dressed in just a fleece and knickers like she’d been about to go to bed but there was a pair of torn leggings on the floor nearby. From the look on her face, she was in shock. And she had good reason to be judging by what else was on the floor in front of her; a big, shaven-headed, presumably Russian, bastard, lay face down and motionless. His trousers were round his knees and there was an old lock knife sticking out of his neck. The full size mirror had a big, wide arc of blood across it and more blood covered the floor. Some of it had even reached the ceiling. As I drew nearer, I realised some of it was on Sarah’s face.

Good girl, I thought, and the relief flooded through me. Sarah Mahoney had never been near her old man’s world, yet the minute she was cornered, her instincts kicked in and she killed rather than be killed. Talk about a chip off the old block.

It looked like the Russian had been dead a while. She must have been sitting here on her own looking at the body for hours, too shocked to move, just waiting for someone from Bobby’s crew to turn up and help her but, of course, no one came. I was the only one left.

When she finally registered it was me, Sarah jumped to her feet and ran towards me. I had just enough time to move the gun before she threw her arms around me. I couldn’t tell you how relieved I was that she was alive.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he hurt you?’ I asked.

‘Tried,’ she said.

We left the dead Russian where he lay and I steered her to her bedroom. I pulled an old suitcase down off of the top of the wardrobe and told her, ‘pack some clothes, enough for a couple of days,’ then I added, ‘you’ve got two minutes.’ I didn’t want the other Russian guys turning up looking for their friend.

Sarah pulled on her jeans, stuffed some clothes and toiletries in her bag and we got out of there.

‘This is my brother Danny,’ I told her when we reached the bottom of the stairs.

‘Good to meet you pet,’ he said.

The keys to Bobby’s Jag were on the floor by the phone. I picked them up and said, ‘Danny, take the Beamer and follow me.’ I didn’t want Bobby’s car sitting there in the morning. That wasn’t part of my plan.

‘What happened?’ I asked as I roared along the driveway.

‘They took dad and Finney,’ she said. ‘I was in my room and I heard a big bang and when I went to the top of the stairs to see what had happened the door was hanging off and there were these big blokes with shotguns - Russians or Poles?’

‘Russians,’ I told her. ‘Was anybody else with them?’

‘Yeah,’ she said with anger in her voice, ‘a Scottish bloke and a fucking bitch.’

‘A woman?’ she nodded. So Lady Macbeth was in on the act. She’d live to regret that if I had my way. ‘Did she say anything to you?’

‘She told one of the guys to stay behind and watch me then she called up the stairs, telling me to come down. I could see they were dragging dad and Finney away, so I legged it into dad’s office. He keeps his lock knife in a desk drawer so I opened it up and stuffed it in the pocket of my fleece. When I got back to the top of the stairs she was sneering at me from the bottom with that big lunk next to her. She said “little girls need to learn to do what they’re told by their elders” then she turned to the bastard and said “keep her quiet, you can do what you like”.’ Sarah put her hand up to her forehead like she might be about to pass out but she managed to continue, ‘I started shouting “leave me alone, my father will fucking kill you” and the bitch laughed,’ Sarah shook her head, ‘she just laughed, then she said “oh get over yersell hen”.’ It was a pretty good impression of Lady Macbeth’s thick Glasgow accent.

‘She left with all of the others and the guy you saw came up the stairs. I still didn’t believe he was going to do it but he hit me then he tore my leggings off. When he started undoing his trousers I grabbed the knife and stabbed him.’

Sarah had been incredibly brave and very lucky. She probably only had one chance to knife the guy somewhere vital before he’d have disarmed her, raped her and most probably killed her. But she’d earned her luck.

‘I didn’t want to kill him,’ she said quietly. ‘I just wanted it to stop.’

‘I know,’ I said, ‘you did well, you did the right thing. It was him or you.’ I spoke the words like the expert on killing I had recently become.

We drove in silence for a minute while she plucked up the courage to ask me. I knew it was coming but I was dreading it.

‘What about Dad?’ she asked quietly.

She had a right to know about her old man. I couldn’t lie to her and tell her everything was going to be alright, because it wasn’t. But what was I supposed to do? Tell her the old fellah was gone because of me, tell her I killed him because I was forced into it by a Glasgow gangster, that they would have killed me too if I hadn’t done it. That I had no more choice in killing Bobby than she did in topping that big Russian? It was him or me. Is that what I was supposed to tell her?

I didn’t think so.

‘He’s gone, Sarah,’ I said quietly, ‘Finney too.’

She’s a tough cookie Sarah and I think she half expected it would end like that for her dad one day. Maybe she’d been preparing for this moment all her life because she just nodded and said, ‘thank you for telling me,’ as if it was somehow a relief that I didn’t try to lie to her. She started weeping silently next to me as I drove. She made no sound at all but occasionally, out of the corner of my eye, I would see her sweep her arm up to her face to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. By the time we reached Palmer’s rented house she’d dried them. I parked up and she followed me inside, her eyes red and puffy.

I realised Sarah had just had a night on a par with mine. We had both nearly died and we had both killed a man for the first time in our lives. She’d had it worse, she’d lost her beloved dad in the process.

But there was no time to think about any of that right now. We were at war.

I made Sarah go up to the spare room and wait there. I didn’t want her to hear any of this. I followed her into the spare room and she sat on the edge of the bed. She looked up at me, appealing.

‘I want to do something,’ she said, ‘I want to help you, for my dad.’

‘Believe me when I say this, I knew your dad for a very long time and the last thing he would want is for me to involve you in any of this,’ I told her. ‘I will handle it, I promise.’

‘Are you going out again tonight?’ she asked, looking scared.

I nodded, ‘I’ll leave someone behind. He’ll be downstairs all night and tomorrow. You’re totally safe. Nobody knows you’re here. You can stay in the room if you want.’

‘I don’t want you to leave me again,’ she looked terrified.

‘Listen to me,’ I told her and I stopped her protests by putting both of my hands out and gently holding her face between them, ‘I have to go and do this one thing. I have to finish it and I will be back, I promise you.’

She opened her mouth to say something but I interrupted her, ‘I need you to do something for me. I need you to be brave until I sort this mess out. Then I promise I’ll come back and I will never leave you alone again, I swear.’ She looked like she was going to cry again, but not in the same way. This was a different emotion. Relief perhaps.

I kissed her, there in the bare, spare room of that rented house. It was a strange place for our first proper kiss but it had been a strange night. That kiss was a promise and we both made it.

Palmer’s rented house could have been described as minimalist, as if the bare walls, limited furniture and an absence of family photos were some deliberate design statement. I knew differently. He was a bloke who just didn’t value stuff. He had a 42-inch plasma TV on one wall to watch the football on a Sunday afternoon, a fridge full of beers and a couple of small couches to sit on but precious little else, so we just stood around in his kitchen.

Palmer had rounded them up. They were all there, just like I asked: Palmer, Toddy, Mickey Hunter, Danny, Kinane and all three of his sons.

I turned to Hunter and nodded. He put two long, bulky, black holdalls on the kitchen table and unzipped them both. Hunter took out the weapons one by one and placed them carefully on the table. He had brought everything I’d asked for. If he had been surprised to see Kinane and his sons he didn’t make a big deal out of it, just nodded in the older man’s direction, then he talked us through the guns he’d brought with him.

‘Four Beretta semi-automatic shotguns. From what you tell me there’s no need to saw off the barrels?’ He was obviously trying to find out more but I wasn’t about to tell Mickey Hunter what I had planned.

‘No need,’ I confirmed.

‘I’m grateful for that small mercy.’ He held up the ammo to show us, ‘don’t fuck about with these, they’re two and a quarter-ounce Super Magnum cartridges. They’ll bring down a rampaging elephant,’ and we all nodded respectfully. Kinane and his sons picked up the shotguns and started loading them like they knew what they were doing, which I didn’t doubt.

‘Danny,’ said Hunter. My brother was paying attention alright and he even smiled when he saw what Hunter was taking out of the bag for him, ‘the SLR; British Army, standard-issue, semi-automatic rifle from your time and beyond. I don’t have to tell you anything about this, do I?’

‘No mate,’ said Danny as he picked it up, scrutinised its length closely, peered down its barrel then held it reverentially, ‘you don’t have to tell me anything about it.’

‘Better than the SA80 any day,’ said Palmer, appearing at his side, ‘that won’t jam in a bloody sand dune.’ The two of them were gazing at the rifle like it was a picture of an old and much-loved girlfriend.

‘I thought you might feel that way,’ Hunter told Palmer, ‘so I brought you one as well.’

‘Nice one.’

‘Sure you don’t need anything?’ Hunter asked me, ‘I put another shotgun in the car, just in case.’

I shook my head. I was happier with the Glock and less likely to blow my own foot off with it.

Hunter handed me the long, thin black bag, ‘and you asked for this.’

‘Thanks,’ I said taking it from him without another word.

‘You going to war?’ asked Hunter, a little nervously.

‘Maybe,’ he was still fishing. I jerked my head so he would follow me out of the kitchen where we couldn’t be heard. More importantly it would separate him from the others and he wouldn’t be able to hear me speaking to them later. ‘I need you to stay here with Toddy. Don’t go anywhere. Keep your phone handy.’

‘No sweat,’ he said, though he did look a bit worried, ‘I wasn’t planning to leave the country or anything.’

‘Make sure you don’t,’ I told him. Then I gave him a smile like he was my best mate.

I returned to the front room and I didn’t waste any time. I went through it all; what happened to Bobby, Finney and Northam and who was behind it - except I left out the bit about me shooting Bobby, but you can’t blame me for that. I then told them what we were going to do about it. There weren’t many questions. They all knew we were in the shit and if we didn’t act now, we’d lose the city for good.

We left Hunter and Toddy with Sarah. Danny and Palmer went in one car with two of Kinane’s sons. Kinane and his eldest came with me. Kinane sat up front while I drove.

‘I always thought I’d have the chance to sort it out,’ Kinane said, ‘you know, me and Bobby, even after all this time. We fell out over nowt really, pride more than anything. We were both stubborn fuckers, always were,’ he sounded almost affectionate, ‘these Russian tossers have robbed me of that and they are going to pay.’ I was glad he was angry and so confident. I wasn’t. ‘Even Finney,’ he continued, ‘I mean, he was a cunt and everything but he didn’t deserve that. It’s no way to go is it?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘it’s no way to go.’

I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about anything. Soon we’d be at the farm house.

What is it about certain nationalities and drinking? I mean, Geordies like a drink as much as the next man but they don’t go about it with the fervour of some countries. It’s not their religion. If they have one at all it’s football not drink. The Irish are different. They sink booze like they are trying to fill a deep, despairing void in their lives.

With the Russians, I’d always assumed they drank because there was sod all to do under the communists but they’ve been free of them for years, so it has to be something deeper than that, otherwise they’d have stopped when the wall came down and everyone got cable. It’s more like a national pastime to them. I dated a Russian girl once. She taught me a phrase ‘Do Dna’. The Russians say it to each other when they raise a glass. It means ‘to the bottom’. No half measures with these guys.

So it was no great surprise to me when Palmer reported back, ‘they make party,’ he said in a joke Russian accent, ‘slugging back the vodka. Guess they thought with Bobby and Finney out of the way, it was all over.’

‘Then we’ll leave them to it,’ I said, ‘until the morning, nice and early.’

I’d always known it would be handy having an ex-special forces guy on our team. I don’t know anyone else who would have calmly climbed from his car and walked across the fields in the pitch darkness to that farmhouse, watching close enough to see those sickos glugging back their vodka, then cheerfully reported back to me.

We left while it was still dark, Palmer leading the way, crouched low and moving silently across the fields to the farm house. The rest of us followed on behind, me wincing at every sound we made. By now I could have sworn Vitaly and his mates were capable of hearing every blade of grass we trampled.

There wasn’t much moon but if they’d bothered with sentries they’d have seen dark shapes breaking the horizon behind us and we would never have got close enough. Luckily for us, they must have thought their job was all but done. I never took my eyes off that farmhouse as it gradually drew nearer, its slate-grey walls growing bigger with every step.