Caitlin had done precisely as asked and positioned herself between the hostages and us, but she could think and move pretty quickly too, when she needed to. She pinned Jimmy and slapped her cuffs onto him as soon as I rolled free. Conall had his man well under control by then. Caitlin stared at the pair of us, hands on her hips.
“Bloody hell,” she managed and left it at that. Poor Jessica was staring up at them both, shaking with relief and shock. I pulled myself up into a hunched ball on the floor, buried my head against my knees and decided to do a little shaking myself. That had all gone rather well. I hadn’t even broken my favourite glasses.
“You really shouldn’t have done that, Mr Keane,” Conall chided me, patting my shoulder absently. “You were supposed to stay in the car, Sir. I thought we’d made ourselves clear.”
“The way he came tearing up, Jesus!” Caitlin added, for good measure, then scowled down at me. “You did see that knife, didn’t you, Sir?”
“Kn… kn… knife?” I stammered out, bewildered, “What kn… knife?” I blinked up at her. “I tripped, didn’t you see? Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“You could have been stabbed.” Caitlin frowned down at me then turned away to go and see to Jessica and the boy. “Please leave police work to the police from now on Sir.”
“Shay called you?” Jessica asked as Caitlin untied her wrists. “I saw him, in the village, racing towards us.” She winced as she brought her sore, stiffened arms round.
“Called us and flagged down a car to follow you until we could catch up with him,” Conall told her with a pleased look. “He’s a quick thinker, your friend, even if he’s also a bit too impetuous for his own good.” He turned to smile smugly at his two cuffed captures. “Quite the sprinter when he gets moving isn’t he? And I guess you boys forgot all about our Air Support Unit, or underestimated the distance they could track you from?” No answer, just a murderous glare cast in my direction by Jimmy as the effects of my accidental stumble wore off. “How’s young Gary looking?” Conall asked. Caitlin was feeling for the boy’s pulse.
“Heavily sedated, I think, but his pulse is strong and steady. No sign of any adverse reaction to whatever they gave him, not yet at least.”
“We wouldn’t hurt a fucking kid!” Jimmy Crawford spat out angrily. I just kept my head down, observing them all from behind my habitual curtain.
“You surprise me,” Conall told him coldly, as he pulled on his gloves and patted him down. He removed a knife from Jimmy’s ankle sheath before moving on to Mike and discovering a couple more. No guns on either of them after all. “I thought there weren’t any lines you boys wouldn’t cross. You’ve had busy careers haven’t you, Jimmy? Mike? I don’t suppose you fancy telling me where we can find your current employer? We’d rather like a word with Mr Ferguson.” Stony silence. Conall sighed. “Right then. Miss Kerr? When you feel up to it, I think we should get back to the car and radio this in as soon as possible. I’m sure we’ll all be a lot happier once Gary’s safely at the hospital being checked over.
“Of course, Inspector,” she agreed hastily. “The sooner, the better.” Caitlin helped her to her feet and then crouched down to scoop Gary up, blanket and all.
“After you boys.” Conall gave Jimmy a helpful little push. “Mind how you go now, watch your feet. It’s easy to trip when your arms are pinned back like that.” He hoisted me up before offering Jessica a steadying arm, and she leaned on it gratefully, casting a flushed, grateful smile back at me as we all walked out.
I kept to the back of our little group as we headed down the track, so I was luckily well-positioned to break for cover when I saw the nose of a Land Rover peeking through the trees at the bottom, and then spotted the waiting gunman. A wild, muffled shot hit a nearby tree above me and I skidded down a short slope into a handy hollow. He had a silencer too then. I was up and running again long before anyone could get into position to have another crack at me.
I didn’t go far, just circled round a bit, knowing what would come next. I just needed a few moments in private. I got my phone out and switched it over to my innocuous user profile. Nothing there to alert anyone to my real history. I clicked my little tracker on too, in case they tossed the phone, but just a single click, not a double. I didn’t want The Ids charging in and making even more of a mess of things.
“Mr Keane? Shay?” Conall called out loudly, “Please come back and join us. They’ve asked me to inform you that they will shoot Miss Kerr if you don’t.”
“No! Don’t!” A pretty convincing squeak of alarm, I hoped. I jogged back towards them, making plenty of noise. “I’m coming Inspector.” A slip and a scramble, “I’m almost there.” Mike greeted my stumbling arrival with a well-judged punch to the solar plexus that doubled me over as the air was forced from my lungs. A playful warning, by his standards.
“Slippery little fucker, aren’t you?” He yanked me up again. “You’ve caused more than enough trouble already. One more idiot move and my pal here will blow your stupid, boy scout head off. Stand still.” He patted me down and took my phone, tossing it to Jimmy. “Check it.”
“Locked.” Jimmy walked over and thrust it at me. “Touch the sensor.”
I did so. The two newcomers from the Land Rover watched all of this impassively. Familiar faces from the list I’d made for Conall. More of Ferguson’s crew, his B team, Daryl and Vince, a pair of lighter weights. And yes, Conall and Caitlin were now wearing their own cuffs, surprise, surprise. Jimmy whistled softly as he stared at my screensaver then checked a few of my saved photos. He pocketed the phone, got a handful of my hair in his fist and lifted my head up so he could get a good look at me. My glasses were lifted away, dropped and crushed underfoot.
“Hiding away under there were you? You see that face, Mike? Nobody’s blowing this one’s head off.”
I stared back at him woefully, my mouth quivering, and resisted the urge to sigh. His type was so predictable they were no fun at all.
Twenty-Three
I knew what Shay’s ‘personal’ screensaver was. It was an old photo of his mother, standing in a riotously blooming, sun-drenched garden, her golden child hoisted on her hip. Both angelic faces smiling at the camera with identical, eldritch eyes as she offered him the ripe, golden peach she’d just plucked from the tree for him. My cousin’s long-lost Eden, half a dozen years before his entire world had exploded in front of his eyes.
I wasn’t in the least surprised by Jimmy’s reaction to seeing that picture, or some of the other, much later shots Shay had on there. There were none of me in that profile, naturally. I didn’t think Jimmy was about to toss Shay’s phone in a hurry, but by then mine and Caitlin’s had been stomped beyond hope of repair. It was lucky, I thought, that they were all so focused on moving us out of there as fast as possible.
Once Shay and Jessica had been hurriedly restrained with zip-lock ties from the glove compartment, we were all bundled into their Land Rover Defender. It was set up with seating for five or, in this case, a squashed six, and had enough floor space at the back to squeeze Gary Allen and Mike and Jimmy in too.
“Stick that under his head and help me strap him down,” Mike said from behind us. Then, after a minute, “The kid’s secured. Go.” Their driver already had the engine idling and immediately shifted into gear and got us moving.
“No sign of their damned helicopter,” the guy in the front passenger seat, the one with the gun, commented. “They must have been called off once they’d reported the location.” He turned to grin over his shoulder at us all.
“I’ll keep us in the trees for a while anyway,” the driver decided. “They might start getting antsy soon, when the inspector here doesn’t call in.” He soon took us off the better kept, frequently used ways.
That journey felt like it lasted for hours, but I found out later that we were only driving for eighty-four minutes. Our route took us through a winding maze of what could barely be called tracks any longer. Just another battered old farm vehicle going ab
out its usual business. You had to hand it to whoever had designed the Defender range, those things were incredible in rough terrain, even if passenger comfort didn’t seem to have been a priority. We were flung about mercilessly on the roughest stretches and if we hadn’t been so tightly packed it would have been a lot worse, especially on the steeper, bumpier descents.
My only consolation was that Mike and Jimmy, hanging on behind us, were having a worse ride of it than we were, even if they could hold on and fling out a spare hand when needed. No sound from Gary Allen; I hoped they’d done a decent job of cushioning him back there.
I knew that Shay would have cut through enough of his restraints to snap the rest loose before we’d gone five miles, but he too was biding his time. They weren’t very chatty, our captors. I didn’t hear any of them give any useful information away. They called the driver Vince and the gunman Daryl. Shay would already have known that. They’d been in the photo collection he’d sent me. We’d turned south, soon after setting off, and then west. I had no idea where we were or where we might be going. It didn’t matter; The Ids would be tracking Shay’s phone, anyway. My upper arms were burning with muscle strain long before we finally stopped. They’d cuffed my wrists back-to-back, with my palms facing out, and the added twist caused by that was extremely unpleasant. At least they hadn’t done the same to Caitlin.
“We’re going to start losing the light soon,” Jimmy Crawford finally warned Mike as we crossed a narrow stretch of high, open ground. “Time to start thinking about losing some weight and getting back to a road to go to the farm?”
Mike grunted his agreement.
“Pull up under the next decent cover.” He told the driver. “I want to see where we are and stretch my legs a bit.” Five minutes later, we stopped, and they both jumped out of the back. I hadn’t seen so much as a house in sight for miles. Mike opened my door, grabbed my arm and yanked me out.
“Watch your step there, Inspector,” he advised as he let go and I stumbled to my knees. “Jimmy, take Daryl’s place and the gun. Keep an eye on the others for a bit. Vince, get the other pig out here too.” They did as they were told without comment.
“Out you come, Sergeant,” Vince instructed her cheerfully, grabbing her arm and pulling her out too. “No, stay down there, both of you.” He looked questioningly at Mike.
“Like I said, I want to stretch my legs a bit. Just keep an eye on them whilst I have a little look around.”
I could feel Shay’s coiled readiness from where I knelt, but now wasn’t our moment and he knew that as well as I did. Mike strode off into the trees. Five minutes later he was back, whistling cheerfully.
“There’s a lovely spot over that way, Jimmy,” he told him, pointing. “I’m going to take the lads and these nice officers to look at it. Want to bring those two to come and see too?”
“Nah.” Jimmy was twisted round in his seat, gun at the ready, staring fixedly back at my cousin. “I like it fine right here, thanks.”
Mike grunted. “Just don’t start any of your little games then. We’re only going to be a few minutes.”
Caitlin and I were pulled to our feet by the knife-wielding new pair, and Mike led us deeper into the trees. His ‘spot’ wasn’t far at all. We came out near the edge of a curving rocky bluff, about eighty feet high, steep and jagged.
“Careful Inspector,” Mike warned me, from the higher vantage he’d given himself upslope of us. “As you said yourself, it’s easy to trip when your arms are pinned back like that.” This was it then, the chosen end of the line for their unwanted extra passengers. He was looking forward to watching this. Would we struggle? Would we scream and curse?
I released the cuffs, and my left arm shot out and snapped Vince’s head back, the following forceful kick sending him stumbling just a little too far. His short, sharp scream as he went over the edge of the cliff was soon cut off by a muffled thump as he hit the rocks below.
Caitlin had broken loose from Daryl, but I could see a growing stain spreading down her slashed left sleeve from where he’d managed to cut her. Stiff, sore muscles failed to react with the speed she was used to. Mike had rearmed himself too. They must have had spare knives in the Land Rover.
Ignoring him, I went for Daryl, distracting him with a kidney punch in the back for long enough to allow Caitlin to sweep in and land a well-aimed foot on his right knee cap, a lovely, spot-on strike. He staggered, cursing, but Mike closed the distance quickly, coming straight for me, and I had to dodge his slashing attack and back off a little.
“You sneaky filthy bastards!” Mike growled. “Trick cuffs? That’s a new one.” He lunged at me, but instead of dodging again as he’d expected, I just dropped and swept his feet from under him before flipping back to my feet and stomping on his hand until he dropped the knife. I kicked it over the edge after Vince. A gasp from Caitlin made me turn.
Dammit! Daryl had managed to cut her again, a slash to the thigh this time. I might have lost my temper a bit by then. My second punch dislocated his jaw and knocked several of his teeth out.
“Conall!” Caitlin warned, and I spun, still clutching the collapsing Daryl by the front of his jacket with one hand as Mike came at me again. Another knife, in his left hand this time. Yeah, he wouldn’t be able to grip anything properly with his right hand any time soon, or sucker punch my cousin with it again either. I’d heard the cheering sound of bones crunching under my boot moments before.
I pushed Daryl at him and skipped out of reach, the sound of swift, light footsteps reaching my ears, my fleet-footed cousin coming late to the fray. Mike must have heard him too, or simply not liked his odds by then, because his eyes changed as he leapt over his fallen comrade, giving me an instant’s warning as he charged. His intent was clear; if he was going down, then I was damned well going with him. And I only had the time and the space to move in one direction if I wanted to save myself.
So I threw myself back off the edge of the cliff in the most controlled, prepared way I could manage as Mike flew over my head and began his fatal plummet.
The jerk as my right hand caught and gripped at a narrow ledge yanked my arm from its dodgy shoulder socket, putting the limb out of action, but it did halt my fall, for a moment. I slid down the cliff face, picking up speed again, scrabbling with my left hand, from one momentary hold to another and braking with my feet every time I found a toehold to do so. About halfway down, my side caught on a sharp projecting blade of rock that sliced me neatly from hip to armpit as I scraped down it. I think that’s where my boot and my foot got cut open, and I broke the toes, but I was highly motivated to keep clinging on at any cost. I made it most of the rest of the way down at a non-lethal pace and finally landed with no more impact than a ten-foot drop would have caused. I managed not to break any more bones handling the landing.
Once I’d come to a stop in a scatter of sliding stones I lay gasping, staring up at the looming cliff above, making the most of the brief breathing space while it lasted. I knew I didn’t have long before the adrenaline rush wore off, and shockwaves of pain began to roll in, and I wasn’t done quite yet. I focused on getting my breath back until I saw a head appear above me in the fast-fading light. Then I pulled a foot in and got a knee up, my left hand moving to pin the other arm in place. I wasn’t dead, or paralysed, see? He needed to know that. I called up or attempted to.
“I’m fine, Shay, no major damage.” It wasn’t a good attempt, but hopefully, it had been enough to calm him down a little.
Twenty-Four
Shay
I skidded to a halt as they both went over, mind racing with probabilities, heart stuttering madly. I slammed a big, heavy lid down on all that. Strong emotions only impaired performance. He’d dropped, I’d seen that. Mike Gordon had missed him entirely. But had Conall grabbed for a hold with his left hand first, or had he used his right, despite what I told him every time that damned shoulder popped? Then I heard a rattle of loose, falling stones, long after the muted impact of Mike’s collis
ion with the ground. I dived for the edge and stuck my head over. There he was. Alive? Yes, alive, and deliberately moving enough to tell me so. He called up, a rather feeble, winded effort that I couldn’t make out a word of.
If I’d had to place a bet, I’d have put my money on Caitlin being in much better shape than Conall was just then, but I knew what he’d want me to do first. Fuck that! He could be bleeding out down there for all I knew. I glanced back at her. She was fine, up and moving, retrieving a pair of cuffs to slap onto the unconscious form of Daryl, sprawled bloody in the grass. Neither of her cuts looked serious, but from the noises being wrenched out of her chest and the haggard look on her face, she could have been close to going into shock. I rolled back to my feet and ran over, begrudging every wasted second. I reset the cuffs, because she hadn’t remembered to, and whipped a zip tie around Daryl’s ankles before bending his legs so I could hogtie him with a second strap running through the cuffs, talking as I worked. “You can manage up here alright, Sergeant? Not about to collapse or anything?” I knew what I must have sounded like, looked like. “The hostages are safe, Crawford’s secured and help is on its way. They shouldn’t be long.”
She glared down at me furiously. “You saw that, right? You must have seen that?” Oh. She hadn’t seen what happened at all then. Mike’s final charge must have blocked her view. “You fucking robot! You don’t feel anything at all, do you?”
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