He frowned and shook his head. “Nah. Wazzap with the man? Ariel drop the baby or something?”
Petey repeated what the weasel was in the middle of saying before Barcode sliced him open, ending with, “Yeah, bro. Demarcus Williams and Crabapple drag him outta the Hub and into the courtyard. Man, he was screaming his innocence and crying like a baby. Then TM told us all to fuck off.”
“Did you see Rhino make a signal?”
Petey shook his head. “Nah, didn’t see nothing, me. Too busy concentrating on TM’s speechifying. Impressed with what he said ’bout you, bruv.”
He offered a fist to Barcode and they bumped.
“Yeah? What he say?”
Petey shrugged. “Just how you was his main man. Headed up the ladder. Y’know?”
Barcode turned his sneer into a smile.
Don’t you just know it, bruv.
“You got that right, Petey. But about the Rhino thing. You sure it weren’t TM making one of his points? Keeping the Tribesmen in line, like he done before?”
Again, Petey shook his head. “Not this time, bruv. TM showed us the recording. Looked like Rhino was doing something sly, fo’ sure.”
“Dragged him out the Hub, you say?”
“Yeah, bruv. Kicking and screaming, he was. Doubt we’ll see him again. Not alive at least.”
“Fuck!”
“What’s wrong, man?”
“Rhino’s one of my crew. If TM had him murked, it gonna reflect bad on me. I might have to smooth things out with TM.”
“Oh. Didn’t think o’ that.” Petey didn’t look too disappointed with the idea that Barcode might be standing in the middle of a big heap of dogshit.
“How’s that pie looking?”
“Not long now, blood. Two minutes. Couple o’ slices of garlic bread there. Want some?”
For some reason, Barcode’s hunger had eased a few notches, but he weren’t about to let on to Petey. “Sure man. Pass one over. Don’t want to kill my appetite for the pie.”
Petey dropped the bread onto a paper napkin and handed it over the counter. Barcode wolfed it down in one go although it tasted of cardboard. He smacked his lips, wiped them with the napkin, and dropped it into the bin.
“C’mon, man. That pie gotta be ready now. I got a meeting with TM. Can’t keep him waiting none.”
Petey shrugged. “If you say so.”
He grabbed the wooden flat shovel, dug the pizza out of the oven, and slid it into a waiting box. He spooned over a helping of sliced parmesan and passed it over the counter along with a couple of napkins and the cola. He waved away Barcode’s offer of money. Barcode never did pay at Petey’s dad’s place, but always made the offer. At least he pretended to.
He up-nodded and they bumped fists once more.
“Take care, Petey.”
“You too, blood.”
Making sure to keep the pizza box level, Barcode raced around the corner, dodging the rain, dived into the Renault, and used the screwdriver to kick the car back into life.
During the short drive to the school, the aroma of pepperoni and mozzarella reignited Barcode’s hunger and set his mouth watering again.
Although one of his crew might have been playing for another side, it didn’t necessarily reflect badly on Barcode, did it? After all, he’d just dealt the Parksiders a real body blow. He’d done it single-handedly and on TM’s orders. Had to count for something, right?
’Course it did.
Barcode was cool. On the up. Fuck Rhino and his treachery.
He pulled the Renault to a stop across the road, a couple of hundred metres from the school. He started eating. Pizza was delicious.
So far, his day had gone perfect. All he needed was to run into the be-atch in a dark alley and it would round off the vibe nicely. He could really use a bit of tight-assed, stuck-up whitebait about now. Yeah. He’d give her a good time. He had plenty enough dark meat. Maybe too much for her to handle.
Barcode allowed himself a trademarked cackle. He had that little delight to come.
The dashboard clock flashed 01:37. He had a great view of the front and side of the building and plenty of time to enjoy his feast.
#
As the final segment of pizza slipped down, Barcode belched loudly and excused hisself to no one. He drained the last of the cola and dropped the can into the passenger’s footwell along with the empty pizza box.
“Time to move, blood. Get this over with.”
He reached for the handle on the driver’s door to brave the rain. In the distance, on the roof of the schoolhouse, something moved. Something dark and man-shaped.
What the fuck?
Another man-shaped shadow moved in the courtyard out back. It slid along the rear wall, heading towards the back doors. Damn it, the school was under attack.
The Parksiders?
Barcode pushed on the door. It screeched open, letting in a huge blast of super-chilled, soaking wet air. He swung his right leg out into the dark and the rain, then paused.
Wait, blood.
He needed to think about this.
Barcode pulled his rain-soaked leg back inside the car and slammed the door closed. No need to rush. Time to think about things for a while. He lit a cigarette.
Think it through, blood. Think it through.
What’s happening?
Rhino had been caught signalling someone. Maybe he’d turned on the Tribe and joined with the Parksiders.
Perhaps it weren’t nothing more than a coincidence.
What about the asshole on the Aprilia, Moped Boy? Did the little fucker recognise him through his disguise? Perhaps the Parksiders were retaliating.
It was common knowledge the schoolhouse was usually empty overnight, but no one with any brains would dare to break into the place. Not normally. Maybe they’d do it in retribution for his act of war, for the way Barcode dealt with Beanie Boy and his crew?
More than likely, this weren’t an all-out attack. Prob’ly. Maybe they was planning to trash the place and search for some product to replace the shit they’d lost. If so, the Parksiders would be getting more than they bargained for. They’d be walking into a shitstorm.
On the other hand, just ’cause he’d only spotted two men so far, didn’t mean the Parksiders weren’t there in full force.
What was he s’posed to do?
Barcode wiped a hand across his mouth.
Should he crash into the school and raise the alarm? No fuckin’ way. If the Parksiders were launching a full scale attack, he’d be exposing himself to danger.
Fuck that for nothing.
He was gonna sit back, wait for the dust to settle. If TM was in the Hub, the Goons would be there, too. The Goons got paid to protect TM and the Hub. That’s why they earned the big bucks. It weren’t Barcode’s job.
If he’d really fucked up and set the Parksiders on the Tribe, he’d be safer out of the firing line. Out of town, even. Fuck’s sake. He might not even be safe if he left the shitting country.
Barcode breathed deep. He needed a backup plan. Play the odds. Warn TM.
He sucked on his tab and blew the smoke through the gap in the window.
Yeah. That’s right.
Keep a safe distance, but warn the Goons and the Geeks inside the school, and then, he’d wait.
He leaned back in his seat and stretched out his leg to allow access to the pocket of his wet jeans and dug out his mobile.
Each Tribesman were ordered to memorise an emergency number in case the pigs raided or someone needed help. The Geeks manned the number around the clock. It was one of their main jobs. On the promise of some pretty grim consequences, it weren’t to be used lightly or for social calls. Far as Barcode knew, no one had ever used it before, but this seemed like the situation it were made for.
He powered up his mobile and keyed in the number.
The shadow on the roof slid around for a bit then slipped through one of the skylights. Whoever it was small, or he wouldn’t have been able to
squeeze through the tiny opening. Barcode sure as hell wouldn’t have managed it.
He finished dialling and hit the green button.
Silence.
“C’mon, Geeks. Answer the fuckin’ phone.”
Chapter 34
Monday 20th February – Back to School
Walthamstow, NE London
01:52.
The cold, gusting wind tugged at Kaine’s clothes, trying to push or pluck him from the school roof, depending on its direction. The slippery tiles didn’t help, and holding on to the chimney’s crumbling brickwork offered very little sense of security. On the plus side, the rain had eased a little.
Small mercies.
In his ear, the comms unit clicked.
“Alpha Five to Alpha One. Receiving? Over.”
Kaine smiled. It seemed that Corky’s buddy hadn’t learned radio discipline from the hacker.
“Alpha One to Alpha Five, reading you full strength. Over.”
“Sitrep. Over.”
“On the roof, prepping for entry. You? Over.”
“Entry effected. Disruptor in place and warming up. Prepare for comms blackout in sixty seconds. Over.”
“Thanks for the warning, Alpha Five. Over.”
“Good luck, Alpha One. Alpha Five, out.”
The earpiece clicked again, and Kaine was alone. Alone on a ramshackle roof, on a filthy black night in the middle of winter.
Lovely.
The dilapidated A-frame roof stretched into the gloom ahead of him. Up close, the structure looked to be in an even worse state of disrepair than it had from the wonderful safety of the ground. The intact tiles that remained in place were slick with rainwater and covered in large patches of moss, mould, and dead leaves. Others were broken and some were missing altogether. The gutters were long gone. If he lost his footing on the treacherous surface, nothing would interrupt his fall but the concrete courtyard four storeys below.
The situations he allowed himself to fall into.
Fall? Why the hell use a word like “fall”?
The skylight, his initial target, was located halfway between the first two chimneys, fifteen metres distant, and one and a half metres below the apex—just about within an arm’s stretch. The semi-circular ridge tiles ran in a relatively unbroken line to the second of three chimneys. They appeared strong enough to take his weight. At least, they looked it.
Only one way to find out.
With his back to the first chimney, Kaine lowered himself carefully to his hands and knees and spider-crawled forwards.
He took it slow. Really slow.
The wind whipped around his head, laughing at him, taunting, playing with his mind, and the rain washed the sweat from his face. The crepe soles of his military boots and the pads of his leather gloves added some traction, but very little, and not enough to offer him anything in the way of confidence.
Once again the earpiece clicked, and his isolation was complete.
Five metres from the relative safety of the chimney, another ten before he reached the skylight, Kaine slid his right hand forwards a few centimetres. Beneath his palm, parts of a ridge tile broke away.
His hand slipped, he wobbled, dropped down to his chest and hugged either side of the ridge with arms wide and his legs gripping at the knees. The tile fell away, slipping and rattling down the rear roof slope.
With his balance regained, Kaine watched the largest shard fall. As the orange fragment reached the final row of tiles, it teetered on the edge of the roof for a second before dropping.
In the whistling wind, he didn’t hear it land.
Anyone standing in the courtyard below who wasn’t decapitated by the falling roof tile would look up, but Kaine would be hidden by the walls and the pitch of the roof. To see him, they’d have to step well away from the wall and out into the full force of the wind and rain.
Kaine swallowed hard and slithered forwards another two metres … three … four. Over half way. He had to hurry. The longer he took on the roof, the more chance he’d be spotted, and the more chance the roof would collapse under his added weight.
Another metre.
Another.
The creaking and groaning beneath his hands and knees didn’t offer much relief. Kaine paused and looked around. Not a good idea. Another gust of wind whipped up from the roof, tugged at his clothing, threatened to lift him from his risky perch.
Lights and movement struck his peripheral vision—the interior light of a car parked a couple of hundred metres away.
Kaine stopped moving.
The car’s driver door screeched open, the driver started to get out, then changed his mind. The door slammed shut again.
Kaine waited, hugging the tiles, but the driver stayed in the car. A cigarette lighter flamed into life, flickered, and died. The red ember of a lit cigarette glowed brightly and faded. A smoker enjoying a final, surreptitious cancer stick before settling in for the night? A husband hiding his secret passion from his partner?
Kaine breathed again.
One good thing—the cigarette’s glowing ember would impact on the smoker’s vision, keeping Kaine hidden. He couldn’t hang about though. The ciggie wouldn’t last forever.
After scrambling forwards another three metres, the skylight lay directly beneath him.
Kaine spun through ninety degrees, until his midriff was balanced on the roof’s apex, and stretched out his arms. Nope, too short. His fingers fell centimetres shy of the skylight’s wooden frame. He squirmed forwards, snakelike, until his hips met and then cleared the ridge tile, flattening his gloved palms against the tiles to increase the traction.
In this position, he’d pushed the safety envelope so far that it no longer existed, but with no secure anchoring point he couldn’t have used a safety rope anyway.
Ridiculous lack of preparation.
Back in his military days, if any of his subordinates had suggested this method of entry to Kaine, he’d have drummed them out of the unit.
Times change.
There he was, balanced precariously on the roof of a decrepit building, searching for the identity of a person who may or may not have something to do with the death of an old man Kaine had never even met.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
It defied all logic. But who said he had to be logical?
His fingertips met the wood of the window frame. It was rotten, sponge-soft to the touch. A good sign in terms of enforced access, but in terms of his overall safety, not so much.
With one hand on the upper frame for balance, he punched the glass lightly with the side of his fist. The thin pane rattled and cracked, but held. Glazing putty, powdered with age, fell away. He hit it again, this time with a little more force. The glass shattered and fell inside. A fraction of a second later, glass rattled on bare floorboards.
Relief swept through him, and he took a steadying breath.
The time lapse between smashing the window and when the shards hit the bare boards was short, almost instantaneous, confirming that the internal floor was intact and no more than a couple of metres below the skylight.
The architect’s blueprints revealed a small room and a floor below the skylight but before that point, neither he nor Freeman could be certain the floor still existed in its original state. For all they knew, the boards could have disintegrated during the years since the building was abandoned, resting, as it was, directly beneath such a rotten roof.
The rain increased in force again. Huge dollops hammered into cracked tiles, bouncing high. Spray flew into his face.
Okay, Ryan. In you go.
Working with his hands and hips, Kaine shimmied backwards until his waist lay on the ridge tiles once more. He shrugged off his baby-Bergen, lowered it through the opening, and let it fall. It landed with a satisfying thump. He waited for his breathing to recover before rotating through one-eighty degrees.
After checking his legs lined up with the broken skylight, he gripped the half-round ridge tiles, wriggled backwards
, and lowered his feet into the blackness.
Chapter 35
Monday 20th February – School Games
Walthamstow, NE London
02:03.
With his legs dangling inside the school, feet searching for purchase, Kaine angled his shoulders to line them up with the diagonal of the window frame and shimmied lower. It was a tight squeeze. Too bloody tight. His body wedged in the frame, pinned at the upper chest beneath his armpits. The rotten wood of the window creaked and splintered, but held firm.
He froze. Struggled. Kicked his legs against nothing.
Stuck.
Jesus!
Momentary panic drove into his head, but he forced it away. No value in it.
Relax, slow down.
Kaine stretched his arms high over his head, took a deep breath, and released it slowly. He forced the air out, emptying his lungs, narrowing his chest.
All the while, he was being soaked and frozen by the latest heavy shower—sleet mixed in with the rain.
With a sharp crack, the wood pinning him crumbled, gave way. He slipped through the opening, gathering momentum all the time.
He was free!
Kaine softened his knees and ankles, preparing to drop into a paratrooper’s landing roll if necessary.
An instant later, the toes of his shoes hit bare boards. The woodwork creaked like an old rocking chair, but otherwise held firm.
Bent at the knees and waist, Kaine held stock still in the pitch black, his eyes and ears open, searching for anything unexpected. His vision and hearing told him nothing, but the smell of dust and decay confirmed the room hadn’t been used in an age.
He sucked in a huge breath as he stood slowly, hands held high to prevent his head hitting a roof truss. The old school building creaked and groaned under the weight of age and the power of the growing storm. Otherwise, the room was silent.
By touch alone, he found the small rucksack at his feet and fished inside for his lightweight, high-resolution night vision goggles. He pulled the single lens over his non-dominant eye and scanned the room in all its optically enhanced, green-tinted glory. He found nothing special.
On the Money Page 29