Gangster Girl

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  ‘Whatever you do, never run.’

  She took deep breaths. Pushed her head down and the door at the same time. Stepped outside. Into one of London’s busiest business districts. The light from the June sun struck her eyes, blinding her. She rapidly blinked, trying to flick the glare from her eyes. Trying to find out if she could make it without being seen. Her vision cleared. And what she saw horrified her. The area in front of her was filled with crowds of people, workers enjoying a drink and chat in the still bright evening light.

  ‘Whatever you do, never run.’

  A deafening, high-pitched, wailing noise screamed blue murder from the building behind her.

  She ran.

  Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive. She didn’t look left. Didn’t look right. Didn’t look at the city workers who she knew were now gazing up at the building rocked by the alarm. Didn’t look at the people who were staring after her running figure. Didn’t look at the people who were now pulling out their mobiles to call the cops.

  Sprinted around a corner. Kept motoring forward until a hand snatched her arm swinging her against a hard wall. The air slammed out of her body in a savage whoosh sound.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Relief washed over Daisy as she stared at Stella. She opened her mouth to respond but Stella got there before her. ‘Get your arse into gear, we need to get to the car.’

  Heads down, they bolted towards the waiting car. They kept going until they saw it in the distance. Saw Billy who was waiting for them in the driver’s seat. As they got closer the gun nose-dived out of her pocket. Clattered onto the ground. Daisy skidded to a halt. Whirled around.

  ‘Leave it,’ Stella yelled as she kept running forward.

  But Daisy knew she couldn’t do that. She grabbed it. Rammed it back into her pocket as she stood up. Twisted towards the car the same time Stella reached the passenger side. She sprinted towards the car. Billy blocked Stella from her view. A police siren wailed between the city blocks somewhere in the distance. She ran harder. And harder. She was almost there.

  Then there was a loud rolling rumble of thunder.

  That’s all she heard. A terrifying boom tore through the air. The car she’d been running towards exploded outwards and into a fireball. Daisy felt the shock go through her body as if she’d touched a live wire. She somersaulted through the air like a circus acrobat. Landed on her back, winded, as parts of car and street lamps came down around her until she was covered in debris and glass. She could feel something seeping down her face. Blood. Through her hazy vision she saw the shattered and twisted remains of the car as red and orange flames belched with smoke high into the air.

  Her vision became fainter and fainter. Her mind started to slip. She heard The Mamas And Papas singing ‘Dedicated To The One I Love’ as her mind slipped further back. Back to two weeks ago. Back to the day her life had changed for ever. Back to a day that had started with a death . . . .

  She was jacked back to the present by the grip of hands under her arms. Large hands. Before she could react she was hitched half upright and whoever held her started to drag her along. She could feel the blood trickling down her face and suspected that the flying glass had cut her. The heels of her trainers burned against the ground as she bumped and swayed. Her heart rate racked up. She started coming out of her haze. Her mind began to tick. Who was behind her? Where were they taking her? Instinct cut in. She started to resist. Madly wiggled her captive arms. Dug her trainers into the ground, trying desperately to stall her legs. Suddenly she was flipped around. She looked up. Her mouth tipped open when she saw who it was. Bloody hell, she must be dead.

  Ricky. Blood dripped from his arm and there was a hole in his tracksuit top.

  Couldn’t be. He was dead. She’d seen it with her own blue eyes. Bang. Bang. Tommy had plugged him twice – in the arm and chest. She’d seen the blood leaking his life away on the floor of the bank. He let her go and she rocked back on her feet. Squeezed her eyes shut. Shook her head. It couldn’t be Ricky. Couldn’t be . . . An unexpected shot of pain tore through the left side of her face. Her palm leapt protectively to her cheek. Her eyes flew wide open. Ricky stood looking at her with concern, his arm halfway in the air. That’s when she realised he’d slapped her across the face.

  Bloody hell, he was alive alright. Despite the pain she smiled.

  His lips were moving with speed, but she couldn’t hear a thing. The blast must have taken most of her hearing away. His mouth stopped moving. Before she could think he grabbed one of her arms and heaved her into a fireman’s lift over his shoulders. Her world turned upside down. Her body jolted against his as he hightailed it across the street. Her head swung to the side as he took a sharp left. Her eyes fixed on the square slabs of pavement underneath as they bolted down another road. His body skidded to a sudden halt. He eased her to her feet beside a navy blue car. Without speaking he took out something from his pocket. She couldn’t see what it was. He bent at the door on the driver’s side of the car. Stuck something into the lock. Twisted. Opened the door. He gestured frantically towards her with his hands. She didn’t need words to know what to do. She slung herself into the car. While she crawled into the passenger’s side he threw himself into the driver’s seat. Slammed the door with one hand as his other went to the ignition. He turned the ignition but she couldn’t hear the engine. He was talking again. She screwed her face up. Shit, she still couldn’t hear him. The car accelerated forward banging her into the dashboard.

  They reached the Westferry Circus roundabout and he slammed on the brakes. ‘Which way do I go, which way?’ His voice was surprisingly quiet but she sighed with relief as she realised she could hear him again.

  ‘Right,’ she commanded. Her dad always said that you don’t do jobs on the Island, not unless you could swim. The Isle Of Dogs is like a vast roundabout, surrounded on three sides by the Thames and blocked off on the fourth by the West India docks, there were only a couple of roads off it. So he needed to turn right and drive into the East End along one of those roads, otherwise they were stuck on the Island like rats in a trap.

  He careered down Westferry Road taking the swerves and the bends while the speed cameras cheerfully flashed away. Overtaking on blind corners, he clipped a cyclist’s handlebars with his wing mirror.

  ‘Wanker,’ the cyclist screamed.

  They took no notice. Kept motoring on.

  Ricky shot her a sidelong look. ‘You alright babe?’

  She nodded, her breathing still racking up a high speed inside her chest. She wiped the blood from her face with the back of her hand. She had various nicks and scratches, but otherwise was unharmed. ‘I don’t understand? I thought you were halfway to heaven. Or is it hell?’

  He grinned, once again glancing at her. ‘Takes more than Tommo King to put Ricky Smart down . . .’

  ‘Let me look at your wound.’ Her eyes darted to his arm.

  ‘No time for that, babe. How’s that cut on your . . .’

  ‘Fuck. Look out!’ Daisy cut over him, yelling.

  He slammed on the brakes, veering to the left to avoid another car. The other driver honked their horn furiously. Ricky tried to straighten the car, but it was going too fast and hit the corner of the pavement. He swung the car into a neat half turn. The bumper shook and the car dragged something underneath it that sent the stink of burning metal through the air-conditioning as it set off again. Ricky’s eyes flicked towards the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Be careful,’ Daisy said.

  But instead of answering Ricky’s eyes flicked back to the rear-view mirror. ‘No can do, babe. We’re being followed. Guy on a super blackbird motor bike.’

  Daisy swung around to stare out of the rear window. A monster of a bike was behind, the driver wearing a mirrored crash helmet that masked the face.

  ‘How do you know?’ she asked, twisting back around.

  ‘There’s a wire peeping out of his helmet. He’s rigged up to a mobile and he pulled over when we almost hit that
car. Now he’s following us again . . .’ Ricky swung the car into a crazy turn. The bike followed.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked, gripping the door handle.

  ‘Dunno. Ain’t the cops that’s for fucking sure.’ He shot her another look. ‘I’ve taken the wrong turning, so how the fuck do I get us out of here?’

  Daisy peered through the window, while Ricky kept his eye on the rear-view mirror and the road. ‘You should have turned right at the roundabout. If we stay on this road we’ll go right round the Island and get off it on the other side. But they may have sealed that road off at the top already. At the bottom of the Island is a foot tunnel that goes under the river to Greenwich, we could dump the car there and escape that way.’

  ‘If they haven’t sealed that off too.’

  ‘How far is it now?’ They were heading towards the foot tunnel.

  ‘The rate this car’s going – about ten seconds.’ She peered back behind again. The bike was still sitting pretty on their tail.

  The car was flashed by a camera. Ricky smiled. ‘I think I might just have lost my licence.’

  ‘As a lawyer, I’d say speeding offences aren’t your top priority right now, legally speaking.’

  The road began to veer to the left and Ricky followed it round, studying his mirror.

  ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘The biker?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘We’re alright then.’

  Ricky paused, ‘Maybe.’

  Heaving slightly out of the seat she pointed out of the passenger window. ‘Island Gardens is just round the corner here, that’s where the tunnel is . . .’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Ricky screamed over her.

  Daisy flicked her head around and stared with utter horror at what she saw. Out of nowhere a black car, with tinted windows, pulled out in front of them.

  Daisy crashed sideways into her seat as Ricky’s hands moved frantically around the steering wheel. The wheels squealed as the car veered over to the other side of the road to avoid a full-on collision with the other car. But instead of driving forward the other vehicle crossed over in front of them where it stopped at an angle to the road covering both lanes. Ricky slammed on the brakes.

  ‘Brace yourself,’ he yelled.

  Daisy tucked her head into her body, her arms over her head. She rocked back and forwards as they rammed into the other car.

  Silence. Only the noise of steam hissing from their shattered engine could be heard. Daisy lifted her head to find Ricky half flung on her seat. She unfolded her body. Reached out to him. ‘We need to get out . . .’

  But before she could finish the driver’s side of the car was flung open. Two people, dressed in black and wearing hooded tops that were zipped high over their mouths and hung low over their faces. One was tall and the other a good foot shorter. But it wasn’t their clothing or heights that Ricky and Daisy stared at. They stared at the pistol and revolver aimed right at their heads.

  Keeping his eyes glued on the guns Ricky said, ‘Not really been our day, has it?’

  Chapter Forty-two

  The smallest gunman lifted his hand as if he was going to lift up the hood of his top, but the taller one said, in a husky American accent, ‘Not yet. It’s too dangerous. Our faces might be caught on CCTV. Let’s just do this the way we agreed.’ He gripped his gun as if he used it every day of the week and ordered, ‘Get in the back.’

  Ricky was the first to move. As he eased outside the gunmen took a step back, shooters never wavering from their deadly position. Daisy scrambled out. She didn’t know what was going on here. She desperately needed to take a pill, to get her dad’s advice. But she knew she was going to have to use her own brain this time. Then she remembered – she still had the compact pistol jammed in her pocket. All she had to do was reach down . . .

  ‘No funny stuff,’ the smaller gunman said as if reading her mind.

  Daisy and Ricky eyed each other as they did what they were told. They got in the back on opposite sides of the car. The taller gunman jumped in the back, shuffling Daisy and Ricky closer together. The other gunman bent in the open doorway, his gun aimed at them. The gunman in the car pulled out a length of rope. Threw it at Daisy.

  ‘Tie his hands. Double knot.’

  Quickly Daisy picked up the rope in her lap. Looked at Ricky.

  ‘Now,’ the gunman grated through gritted teeth.

  Ricky placed his hands together behind his back as he continued to eye the gun. Daisy wound the strong rope around his hands and tied it once. Twice. The gunman shoved Ricky forward by the back of his head. Reached down and tested the strength of his bonds. Nodded his head. Slammed Ricky upright again. Ricky sucked in a sharp tug of air, reminding Daisy that he had a shot wound in his arm. The gunman eased slowly backwards out of the car. He waved his gun once indicating that they should get out. What was going on here? A game of in and out? Ricky used his strength and upper body to get awkwardly out of the car. As Daisy followed him her mind went back to the gun in her trousers. All she had to do was reach behind and . . . A roaring sound tore through the air. Another car zoomed towards them out of nowhere followed by the super blackbird motorbike that had sat on their arse earlier.

  They were frogmarched towards the slowing car. Daisy could see two people in the front kitted out in the same gear as the gunmen. Her fear increased. Five guys, no doubt all packing guns, were kidnapping them. And then what? Torture them? Shoot them? That wasn’t happening to her. As she moved her hand flicked to her back. Reached under her top. Eased inside her pants.

  ‘Don’t even try it, honey bun.’ The lethal voice of the smaller gunman froze the movement of her hand. Shit. She pulled her hand back to her front. The gunman walked briskly behind her. Prodded their shooter in her back as their hand reached inside the back of her trousers. Shit. Shit. Shit. Her chance of escape was gone as the gun was whipped out. The gunman shoved it in his pocket. Prodded his gun in her back. She continued to move towards the car. The gunman demanded they stop near the boot of the car. There was a popping sound. The boot of the car flew open.

  Daisy’s mouth half flipped open as her eyes grew wide. Surely they weren’t thinking . . . Her arms were twisted behind her back. She winced as her arms were tightly secured. At the same time one of the other occupants of the car got out. They approached Ricky. With a professional ease they patted him down from head to foot. Shoved the semi-automatic they found in his socks in their pocket. Stood back up. Without warning they shoved him forward, until he stood gazing down into the empty boot.

  ‘On your back.’

  With a shake of his head and a sigh, Ricky awkwardly got inside the boot. The space was crammed, making him curl his long legs to the side. The man in black took something from his pocket. Leant over Ricky and stuck a wide strip of black tape over his mouth. He did the same to his eyes.

  ‘On top of your mate,’ the smaller gunman ordered Daisy. Heart beating a mile a second she got inside and placed her body over Ricky’s. He groaned in pain.

  Her breath fanned his face as she whispered, ‘I always prefer it on top.’ She knew he was smiling from the lift of the skin around his mouth covered in tape. But any pleasure she felt was short-lived as her head was seized back. As one person held her head another thrust tape over her mouth and eyes. She was pushed back hard against Ricky. The door of the boot slammed shut.

  The boot was like a tomb. Hard to see and even harder to breathe. As the car jostled them at a steady speed, Ricky occasionally groaned. She felt a sticky warmth seeping into her sleeve, where her body pressed against his arm and knew that he was bleeding again. She couldn’t even ask him if he was alright because of her gagged mouth. She felt the muscles of his chest move in an uncomfortable tense and ripple motion as if that part of his body too was causing him pain. She knew that Tommy had shot him in the chest, but all he had to show for it was a hole in his tracksuit top. No blood, no visible injury so, she didn’t know what to think anymore . . .

  Her thoughts
shifted as the car abruptly stopped. A door slammed. No, two doors. Feet briskly took the ground getting louder as they reached the back of the car. She heard a pop sound. The boot flew open. Cool, but blessed air, swam over her and Ricky. Took the new air heavily through her nose. Abruptly hands dragged her out of the car onto her feet. The wind was strong, her world still black. She didn’t know where she was but the ground beneath her feet felt solid. But all changed when she was frogmarched forward. The next step she took she almost fell sideways because the ground started to rock, ever so slightly. A hand grabbed her arm. Steadied her. She was propelled forward, taking each step carefully. Whatever she was walking on still rocked. She heard the soft patter of feet in front of her. The next step she took the air felt different, warmer, as if she was inside somewhere. After three more steps the hand on her forced her to stop. A door slammed. She was twisted around. The tape around her mouth whipped off making her wince. She gasped for breath as the tape around her eyes was removed more slowly as if whoever was doing it cared about the pain they might cause her. Her eyes slowly peeled open. She stumbled back when she saw the five gunmen standing in front of her. She dived into a free fall of shock. They might have guns, but they weren’t men.

  ‘I could murder you.’

  Daisy stared at Jackie Jarvis, as her adoptive mum’s words lit a path of fury towards her. The older woman’s small body and cropped red hair stood stiff with tension, her blazing jade eyes and freckles almost popping off her face. And it wasn’t only Jackie’s anger she had to deal with. On either side of Jackie stood her aunts, Ollie, Roxy, Anna and of course Misty. Their hoods were down and all were shooting her mad-as-hell looks as well.