The Follow

by Paul Grzegorzek

  I could hardly knock and ask if they were in as I suspected that my only answer would be a shotgun through the letterbox.

  I was uncomfortably aware of the solid weight of the pistol tucked into the back of my waistband and wished that I had left it in the car. If I used it, no matter if it was in self-defence or not, I would be screwed as I had brought the weapon with me. I put it firmly out of my mind for now, needing instead to concentrate on finding out which flat was my target. I stood on the corner for what felt like an age, then finally an idea came to me.

  I went back to the front of the building and climbed the steps to the multi-occupancy buzzer and pressed the tradesmen’s button. The door obligingly clicked open and I went inside, finding the thing I was looking for; a shelf full of post. It was a matter of moments to find post for both of the flats at the back. I’d never been into a block of flats where the post always got delivered to the right door and this place was clearly no exception. The tenant of flat ‘f’ was a Ms Dawson, which was no help whatsoever, but flat ‘g’ was apparently occupied by one Mr Lek Mierza. Bingo.

  I recognised the name. He was freelance Polish muscle who had been rumoured to be working for Davey for some time now. He must have been the one that grabbed Sally and had brought her back here knowing that all of Davey’s properties would be watched.

  I jogged down the steps and around to the back again, making and discarding plans as I went and finally settling for the simplest option. I didn’t stop as I reached the corner but ploughed on and hit the door to the flat at full tilt, almost breaking it off its hinges in my haste to get inside and save Sally.

  43

  THE CORRIDOR inside was neat, with nothing to impede my progress as I ran down it and towards the rooms at the back where the only three doors were clustered. The middle one was slightly ajar so I took that first, kicking it open and covering the room with the pistol that I had drawn as soon as I was out of public view. It was a bedroom, and quite empty, other than a bed and a canvas wardrobe that was stuffed full of clothes.

  As I came back out, I hesitated for a second and then kicked the one to the right open to reveal a kitchen that was smaller than my bathroom at home, but just as neat. Either this guy rarely stayed here or he had OCD.

  That left the final door, along with the problem that I had made so much noise coming in that they had to know I was here and would be waiting for me. At least I knew they couldn’t have got out the back way though, as the flat was in the basement and there would be no other exit.

  I stood in front of the door for a moment, trying to listen around my heavy breathing but couldn’t hear anything, so I very carefully flicked the handle down and pushed the door open with my toe, standing well to one side. I was glad that I had, as a samurai sword, probably a replica but still looking more than dangerous enough, was thrust through the space that I had recently been occupying.

  It was followed by an arm clad in black leather and I swung around the frame and into the room to see the hulking form of Lek at the other end of the arm, wearing his trademark black leather thigh-length coat and a calm, businesslike expression on his battered face. I wrapped my left arm around the one holding the sword and pulled backwards sharply, trying to snap the elbow. He dropped the sword, however, and that gave him enough leverage to grab me with his other hand and pull me into the room, which contained a small sofa where Davey was holding on to a terrified-looking Sally, who was handcuffed and had black gaffer tape over her mouth.

  I didn’t have time for more than a glance before Lek threw me up against the wall, the plasterboard groaning under the impact. I shouted in pain, my vision suddenly exploding into a riot of colours as I struggled grimly to bring my pistol up to point at his face in an effort to stop the fight before he won. He saw the movement and let go of me with his left hand long enough to savagely chop at my wrist, making my fingers spasm and release the gun. It fell to the floor with a thud and he punched me hard in the face, almost making me pass out as I heard Davey’s laugh in the background, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

  The laugh brought me back from the edge and I brought my right hand up, fingers hooked like claws as I dug them hard into Lek’s left eye. He screamed but I kept the pressure up, driving him backwards across the room as he made a grab for my fingers with both hands. I brought my knees up one at a time, over and over, driving them hard into his unprotected groin and stomach and he sagged against the wall, yelling with every strike that thumped into him. As a final coup de grace, I chopped my elbow into his jaw, satisfied as I saw his eyes roll up into his head.

  He hadn’t even hit the floor when I was turning, heading back for the weapon, but Davey already stood there, pistol held in his fist and an evil grin lighting up his face. ‘Clever chap, you managed to find me. Shame you couldn’t stop me though, as I’m gonna have a bit of fun with your bird. Hope she likes it up the arse, cos’ if she doesn’t she’s in for a bit of an eye-opener!’

  I growled low in my throat and moved towards him. The pistol went off and the sound alone was enough to deafen me. It was a few moments before the pain in the top of my left arm registered and I looked down in shock to see a spreading crimson stain on my sleeve. At the same moment my knees gave out and I sank to the floor, my head suddenly light and woozy. I could faintly hear Sally screaming behind her gag, but my entire focus was on Davey.

  He was advancing across the floor with the pistol held out in front of him, still smoking slightly and wafting the scent of cordite around. ‘Hah,’ Davey chuckled, ‘I never shot anyone before, I like it. Not as much as cutting, but it’s not bad!’

  I looked up at him, trying to muster my strength for one last heroic effort, but it had gone and I just stared at him, trying to work out how not to die. I wasn’t coming up with many ideas. He stopped a few feet away and brought the pistol down so that it was pointing right at my eye. Was it my imagination or could I see the bullet with my name on it glinting in the darkness of the barrel?

  ‘Anything you want to tell me before I pull the trigger?’ he asked, rubbing his groin with his left hand as if he was getting off on the power.

  ‘Yeah, now I know why they call you Cunting Davey,’ I growled; using the nickname that no one ever called him to his face. I was too weak to do anything useful and my only hope was that I would make him mad enough to kill me before he made me watch what he was going to do to Sally.

  A look of anger crossed his face and he jabbed the barrel of the pistol into my forehead. ‘No one calls me that, you piece of shit, no one!’

  I feebly batted at his hand but he kicked me in the chest and I fell over backwards on top of Lek, who was still out for the count. I looked up at Davey again, seeing his face red and his eyes bulging. At any other time I would have laughed to see him so angry, but hilarity was the last thing on my mind as I prepared to meet up with Tate in the hell they reserve for coppers.

  Davey took a deep breath, calming himself with more self-control than I’d given him credit for, before he leaned in close again. ‘I just want you to know, before you go, that this is all your fault. Just a little reminder that everything I do to Goldilocks over there, every little squirm and whimper, is down to you. Just think about that.’

  He raised the pistol, pointing it at my face. I saw his finger whiten as it pressed on the trigger. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to watch as he killed me and I jerked as the gun went off, followed by an oof! and a thud as Davey fell into me.

  My eyes flew open and I saw Sally lying on Davey’s legs, still bound and gagged. She had managed to get off the sofa while he was distracted and trip him as he fired. Her determination gave me new strength and I grabbed Davey by the throat as he struggled to point he pistol at me.

  I grabbed his gun hand with my left and forced him onto his back, the pistol held tight against the floor as I choked the life out of him with my free hand, fingers digging into the soft flesh and hooking together behind the trachea.

  His face went red and his eyes bulged
as he struggled for breath, and he kept trying to raise the pistol but I kept squeezing, putting all my anger and frustration into the grip as his feet began to drum against the floor. With a final roar, I pushed down with all my weight and heard a crack from his throat as something small but vital broke. With a last cough, he died, the light fading from his eyes as I watched.

  I rolled off him, removing the pistol from his still twitching fingers just in case, and then pulled the tape from Sally’s mouth, somehow numb to the fact that I had just taken another human life. It was as though I had placed my feelings in a box somewhere and hidden that box away, to be dealt with later when the pain wasn’t demanding so much of my attention.

  ‘Oh God, Gareth, he shot you, he was going to rape me, oh shit, oh shit, you’re bleeding, you need help!’ she blurted as she sat there shaking.

  I managed to get my warrant card out and find my spare handcuff key, fumbling a few times as feeling began to leach from my injured arm. I got the cuffs off, then I lay back and let the pain wash over me, gritting my teeth so that I didn’t cry out.

  Sally gently began to check me for injuries and I roared in pain as her hand hit the bullet wound that burned in my left bicep. She immediately grabbed a tablecloth, pushing it firmly against the wound to stem the bleeding. She pulled my right hand across and clamped it over the cloth to hold it in place as she searched for her bag, found it and pulled out her phone, still sobbing quietly as I just stared at her. I wanted to say something, to take her in my arms and reassure her, but it was all I could do to stay awake. I only vaguely remember all of this, as repeated beatings and blood loss were taking their toll, and by the time the cavalry arrived I was fast heading towards unconsciousness, unable to feel anything other than relief as paramedics placed an oxygen mask over my face and eased me onto a stretcher while I slipped into the welcome darkness.

  44

  I CAME round in a private hospital room, with the bulldog features of Steve Barnett hovering over me. ‘Are you awake Gareth?’ he asked, and I ignored him while I did a mental checklist.

  My arm still hurt like hell and my head was throbbing but, other than that, I felt remarkably unharmed. I tried to turn my head to look at Barnett but found myself restricted by a neck collar. ‘What?’ I managed, before coughing hard enough to make me want to pass out again.

  Barnett leaned over me with a look of concern on his face. ‘Look Gareth, I’m really sorry I have to do this to you.’

  My addled brain was confused. Surely this man hated me, why was he being nice all of a sudden? ‘Do what?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Tell you that you’re under arrest for the murders of Simon Tate and Quentin Davey. You don’t have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  He sat back, looking more than a little uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s the last thing you need right now but I got told to arrest you as soon as you were awake enough to understand.’

  ‘How’s Jimmy?’ I asked, unable to care about anything else.

  Another voice, this one deep and gruff, cut across the room and made Barnett curse under his breath. ‘Jimmy’s fine, they’re treating him now and they think he’ll make a full recovery. DC Barnett, can you do me a favour and piss off before I kick you out myself?’

  I turned my head to see Derek Pearson standing in the doorway with a bunch of flowers in his hand and a stern look on his face. Barnett nodded and reached out as if to take my hand for a moment, then pulled his hand away and left the room.

  Pearson took his place next to the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, placing the flowers somewhere above my field of vision.

  ‘Like I got beaten shitless and shot. How’s Sally?’

  ‘Waiting outside. It was her that called me and told me that Barnett was here. He’s been your scene guard since you arrived.’

  I didn’t have the energy to be surprised, I hurt too much. Instead I asked the question that was preying most on my mind now that I knew everyone was safe. ‘How much shit am I in?’

  Pearson leaned back so that he could make eye contact without me having to crane my neck. ‘Some, but not as much as you could be. I just want you to know that I think you did a good job out there Gareth, all of us think so. Get some rest and we’ll speak again soon.’

  He smiled as he stood but I could see the lines that recent stress had worn in his face.

  ‘Do you think I’ll keep my job?’ I asked, needing to know but dreading the answer.

  He paused in the doorway, looking back for a moment as if carefully considering the question. ‘We’ll see,’ he said, and the door swung closed.

  Epilogue

  I WOKE up groggily from a dream where I had been trying to kick open a door with Jimmy stuck on the other side, bleeding to death while the wood resisted my frantic efforts. Gradually the banging of my kicks resolved itself into the sound of someone thumping on the door downstairs. Swinging my legs out of bed, I threw on a pair of jeans and staggered down the stairs.

  ‘All right, hang on,’ I yelled, fumbling with the lock.

  When I eventually got it open Jimmy stood there grinning, looking pale but healthy. I gawped for a moment, surprised to see him. During my two-month suspension and investigation into the Davey case we had been forbidden any contact, as it was felt that we may collude on our evidence to keep each other out of trouble.

  ‘Should you be here?’ I asked, glancing up and down the street to make sure no one was watching.

  His grin got wider. ‘Probably not. You make terrible coffee, but I’m prepared to take the risk. You gonna let me in or just stand there staring at me all morning?’

  I stepped back and gestured him inside. I followed him through to the kitchen and began to fiddle with the coffee machine. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure then?’

  Jimmy perched on the edge of the table and watched me critically. ‘How’s the arm?’

  I flexed it, looking down at the puckered round hole where the bullet had entered. ‘Fine most days. I know when it’s going to rain though.’

  He laughed. ‘We live in England Gareth; it rains every day.’

  I passed him a steaming mug and leaned back against the counter. ‘So come on. How come you’re here?’

  He was clearly enjoying my unease but finally relented. ‘Good news, fella. You’ve been cleared of all charges and, pending a medical, you’ll be back at work on Monday. Pearson thought you might like to hear it from me.’

  I almost dropped my coffee. In the last two months they’d systematically torn apart my life, looking for anything in my story that could point to what had really happened. I’d honestly been convinced that I’d either be out of the job, in prison, or both by the end of summer. I’d been interviewed half a dozen times and had the house searched no fewer than three times. I’d been forbidden contact with anyone from work other than Sally, and only her thanks to the Human Rights Act.

  ‘Really?’ I managed.

  ‘Yeah, really. I don’t know all the details but Tate’s murder has been put down to Davey, and his death has been put down to self-defence. He was trying to kill you after all.’

  I shook my head in wonder. I’d told the truth about everything except the drugs and the moment in the farmhouse kitchen with Tate, despite the fact that I knew that I was setting myself up for a fall. Somehow I’d managed to slide out from underneath all the charges and come up smelling of roses. I almost pinched myself to make sure that I wasn’t still dreaming.

  Jimmy caught my eye again, this time looking slightly uncomfortable. ‘One thing though mate, I have to ask. When they had me tied up in that room, I swear I heard them talking about some drugs you’d nicked off the Budds. I wasn’t exactly what you’d call with it at the time so I assumed that I’d misheard.’ He left the sentence hanging, not quite a question.

  I thought about the drugs hidden in next door’s gard
en. As far as I was concerned they could stay there until they rotted away, I wanted no further part of them in my life. Had I not taken them in the first place, Jimmy would never have been kidnapped, nor would Sally, and I wouldn’t have had two months of being slowly torn apart by the investigation.

  ‘Gareth?’

  I blinked. ‘I’m sorry mate, I was miles away. You must have misheard them.’

  He knew me well enough to know that I was hiding something, but he didn’t press me. ‘Come on, I owe you a beer.’ Jimmy set down his coffee mug and headed towards the front door.

  With a final glance out of the window towards where the drugs were hidden I followed, putting them out of my mind with a final promise to myself that, no matter what happened, I would never step outside the law again.

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