He dribbled a ball to the penalty spot and took a few steps back. ‘I’m going to give you one last chance, McKinley. If I were you, I’d grab it with both hands.’ He smiled without warmth, then pretended to kick the ball. McKinley moved, then straightened up as he realised that Terry was faking him out. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about my wife going to Bristol?’ said Terry, taking a step back.
McKinley didn’t reply. Terry dashed forward and kicked the ball, hard. It curved through the air and slammed into McKinley’s chest, knocking the wind from him. He stood panting as Terry got another ball ready.
‘Well?’ asked Terry.
‘I didn’t want to . . .’ McKinley left the sentence hanging.
‘What? You didn’t want to what?’
‘I didn’t want to get her into trouble.’
Terry looked over at Pike and Fletcher. ‘Is it me or is the whole fucking world going crazy?’ he shouted. Pike and Fletcher shrugged. Terry pointed at McKinley. ‘Remind me again, McKinley. Who pays your wages?’
‘You do.’
‘So you do work for me, right?’
McKinley nodded.
‘Because if there’s some misunderstanding on that point, might be best to clear it up here and now.’
Terry kicked another ball. McKinley took a swift step to the side and caught it, snatching it from the air in his gloved hands and clutching it to his chest. Terry nodded, impressed.
‘So what the hell are you doing running my wife down to the West Country to talk to the ex-wife of the guy I was accused of killing? Didn’t that seem a bit on the disloyal side?’
‘She asked me to,’ said McKinley. ‘What could I say?’
‘You could have called me. You could have told me. Fuck me, McKinley, how stupid are you?’
McKinley stared at Terry, his mouth a tight line.
Terry kicked again and sent a ball winging into the bottom right-hand corner of the net. ‘Yeah,’ said Terry. ‘He shoots, he scores, the crowd goes wild.’ He bowed to the stands, then put another ball on the penalty spot. He stood facing McKinley. ‘What did she say, afterwards?’
‘She wanted to know if you’d killed him.’
‘And?’
‘And I said it was self defence.’
‘She believe you?’
‘Seemed to.’
‘And Morrison. She knows I used her to get to him?’
McKinley nodded slowly.
Terry paced around the ball. ‘So thanks to you, my wife now knows that I’m a lying killer who got the victim’s wife pregnant and who used her to dispose of the only witness to my crime,’ said Terry. ‘Doesn’t that strike you as being a tad detrimental to the stability of my marriage, McKinley? Not to mention my prospects of staying out of fucking prison?’
McKinley said nothing.
Terry put his foot on the ball and rolled it backwards and forwards. ‘What the fuck am I going to do with you, McKinley?’ he said. ‘Yellow card? Red card? What do you think?’
‘Terry . . . I . . .’
Terry motioned with his hand for McKinley to shut up. ‘How about we put it down to a penalty shoot-out?’ said Terry. ‘Next shot, you save it and you’re on probation. Let it in and we go and take a walk in the woods.’
‘Terry . . .’
Terry walked backwards as McKinley prepared himself. Pike and Fletcher shifted uneasily behind the goalmouth. Terry looked at McKinley, nodded, and then gently kicked it. The ball arced through the air and McKinley caught it easily. Terry grinned. ‘Probation it is, then.’
Terry walked off the pitch and headed for the car park. Pike and Fletcher hurried to catch up with him and they walked together to the BMW.
‘That’s it, then?’ said Pike.
‘My missus can be bloody persuasive when she puts her mind to it,’ said Terry. ‘McKinley wouldn’t have stood a chance against her. If she’d set her mind on finding Alicia, there’s bugger all he could have done to stop her.’ He looked over at McKinley, who was heading towards the Lexus. ‘He’s all right, he’s just none too bright, that’s all.’
A blue Transit van drove into the car park, its headlights off. Terry turned to look at the van, frowning.
‘What’s up boss?’ asked Pike.
Before Terry could reply, the rear door of the van was thrown open and two burly masked men piled out, wielding shotguns. Two explosions followed quickly, and a car window behind Terry exploded into a thousand cubes of glass. Terry dived to the ground. Pike and Fletcher followed his example, swearing loudly.
∗ ∗ ∗
Andy McKinley flinched at the sound of the gunshots. He whirled around just in time to see Terry, Pike and Fletcher crawling around the back of a silver-grey Honda. Two heavily built men were advancing on the car, their pump-action shotguns held aloft, and one of the men pumped another shell in as he walked.
The blue van followed slowly behind the two gunmen, the driver also wearing a ski mask.
McKinley cursed. The only weapon he had on him was a flicknife. Even if he had been carrying a handgun, it wouldn’t be any use against two shotguns. He looked around. There was no one else in the car park.
McKinley already had the car keys in his hand, and he rushed to open the door of the Lexus. He slid in and slotted the key into the ignition. The engine roared into life and McKinley blipped the accelerator. He cursed again. There were a million places he’d rather be just then, a million things he’d rather be doing, but he knew there was only one course of action open to him.
∗ ∗ ∗
Terry took a quick look around the back of the Honda, but jerked his head away when one of the gunmen pointed his shotgun at him. There was another explosion and lead shot ripped through the rear indicator light, smashing the red and orange glass into a dozen shards.
‘What the fuck’s going on?’ asked Fletcher.
‘Just a guess, but maybe they’re fucking shooting at us,’ said Terry. He rolled to the side and scuttled behind a Toyota. There was another loud bang and the sound of running feet.
‘Fucking hell, I’m hit,’ said Pike, holding a hand to his shoulder. ‘They fucking shot me.’
‘Don’t suppose either of you two are carrying?’ said Terry. Pike and Fletcher shook their heads and Terry cursed.
Terry looked cautiously over the boot of the Toyota. The two masked men were standing by the van, pumping the shotguns. Terry frowned. Who the hell was it? It couldn’t be the Irish again. Besides, the Irish heavyweights had been carrying automatics, not shotguns. He snatched a quick look around the car park and cursed. Other than the Honda, the Toyota, his BMW and a couple of others saloons, there was no other cover. All the men had to do was to walk over to the Toyota and it’d be all over. Terry cursed again. Then he heard the roar of an engine and the Lexus surged across the car park with McKinley at the wheel.
∗ ∗ ∗
McKinley gripped the steering wheel with both hands. He had the accelerator pressed hard against the floor, and his back was pressed against the seat. Everything seemed to slow down, as if all his senses had gone into overdrive. He saw the driver of the van turn to look at the Lexus, his mouth open in surprise. One of the masked men was about to fire his shotgun from the hip, the other had stopped and was reloading. Neither had noticed the Lexus. He saw Terry, crouched behind the Toyota.
All McKinley’s instincts were to turn the wheel, to avoid the impact, but he knew it was the only way to stop the gunmen. He began to howl, a scream of defiance that blended with the roar of the engine into a single animal-like sound, and he pushed his head back into the headrest, extending his arms fully, bracing himself for the inevitable impact.
Time started to speed up again and then he hit the van full on.
∗ ∗ ∗
Terry stared in disbelief as the Lexus crashed into the side of the van. The impact pushed the van to the side and it clipped the two masked men, throwing them to the ground. One of the shotguns clattered along the tarmac. McKinley kept his foot hard down on
the accelerator, grinding the Lexus into the van, the engine screaming like a dying animal.
The two masked gunmen lay on the ground, shaking their heads, confused.
‘Get them!’ shouted Terry. He charged around the Toyota and lunged at the driver, who was trying to scramble out of the passenger door. Terry grabbed him and punched him in the face, grinning with satisfaction as he felt the man’s nose break. Behind him, Pike and Fletcher began to kick the two men on the ground, cursing and yelling.
Terry swung the driver around by the hair and kicked him in the stomach, then kicked him again, letting go so that he flew backwards and hit the ground. Pike turned away from the man he’d been kicking and stamped on the driver’s chest, cursing loudly. The other man was unconscious, blood seeping through the ski mask. Fletcher picked up the two shotguns and hurled them away.
Terry went over to the Lexus. McKinley was still in the driving seat, shaking his head and breathing heavily like a weightlifter about to go for a personal best.
‘You okay?’ said Terry.
‘Yeah,’ said McKinley. He exhaled deeply.
‘Good job you had your seatbelt on,’ said Terry.
He walked around to the front of the car and inspected the damage. He whistled softly and pointed at the crumpled wing. ‘This is coming out of your wages, McKinley.’ He stared at McKinley for a few seconds, then a smile spread across his face and he winked. ‘Thanks, Andy. I owe you one.’
McKinley nodded, acknowledging the thanks, but he didn’t smile.
Pike knelt down and ripped off the ski mask of one of the injured men. ‘It’s the fucking Kosovans!’ he said.
∗ ∗ ∗
Sam opened her eyes. There were voices downstairs. Male voices. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, then looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was two o’clock in the morning. Sam got out of bed, pulled on a robe and went downstairs.
Roger Pike was sitting on a chair, while Andy McKinley and Kim Fletcher were standing over him, looking at his left shoulder. ‘That fucking hurts,’ whined Pike.
‘It’s your own fault for not moving quick enough,’ said Fletcher.
Terry was looking through one of the kitchen cupboards. ‘Will you two keep the noise down?’ said Terry. ‘If Sam hears us . . .’
He tailed off as he heard Sam walk into the kitchen. Fletcher and Pike exchanged guilty looks. ‘Sam’s already heard you,’ she said coldly. ‘And if you wake up Trisha and Laura, there’ll be hell to pay.’
‘Sorry, love,’ said Terry.
Sam went over to Pike and examined the wound on his shoulder. ‘What happened?’ she asked. McKinley moved away as if he wanted to distance himself from Pike and Fletcher.
‘They had shotguns, Mrs Greene,’ said Pike.
Terry flashed Pike a warning look, but the damage had been done. Sam turned to him, wide eyed. ‘Shotguns?’ she said.
‘Small ones,’ said Terry. ‘Where’s the first aid kit?’
‘Same place it was yesterday when you came home like a wounded soldier.’ Sam sighed and got a first aid kit from the cupboard. ‘Get his shirt off,’ she said to Pike.
Fletcher helped Pike strip off the shirt.
‘That hurts,’ complained Pike.
‘Of course it hurts, you’ve been shot,’ said Terry.
Sam bent down over Pike and dabbed at the wound with a damp cloth. ‘You could have been killed,’ she said.
Pike looked quite pleased at Sam’s verdict. He looked up at Fletcher. ‘See?’
Fletcher slapped the back of Pike’s head. Sam pushed him away. ‘Would you act your age, Kim?’ she said.
‘Kim, go check the car,’ said Terry. ‘Make sure there’s no blood on the seats, yeah?’
Fletcher pulled a face and left.
Sam cleaned the wound and used a pair of tweezers to remove pieces of lead shot from the bloody flesh. The damage was mainly superficial and the bleeding had already stopped. ‘Who did this?’ Sam asked Terry.
‘Your Kosovan friends.’
‘What?’ Sam looked across at McKinley but McKinley turned away, not wanting to get involved.
‘The Kosovans that you let encroach on our territory,’ said Terry. He went over to the fridge and took out a beer. ‘That bastard Poskovic and his crew.’
‘I thought I’d sorted that.’
‘You thought wrong, love,’ said Terry, popping the cap off the bottle of beer.
‘They tried to kill you?’
‘No, love, this was just their way of sealing our business relationship,’ said Terry. He took a swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth.
‘You must have done something to set them off,’ said Sam, dabbing antiseptic on to Pike’s injured shoulder.
‘This isn’t the school playground,’ said Terry.
‘You could have fooled me,’ said Sam. She nodded at Pike and screwed the cap back on the bottle of TCP. ‘Okay, you’re done,’ she said. ‘Take two aspirins and don’t bother me again.’ She put the first aid kit back in the cupboard. ‘I’m off to bed,’ she said.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Terry. He jerked a thumb at Pike. ‘Off you go, lads.’
Pike picked up his shirt and he and McKinley left. McKinley didn’t look at Sam as he walked past her.
Terry went into the bathroom, took off his clothes and showered. Sam stood at the bedroom window and watched Pike, Fletcher and McKinley drive off. As she turned away from the window, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked tense and drawn, dark patches under her eyes and tight lines around her mouth. Sam knew it wasn’t just lack of sleep. Terry was draining the life from her. He’d lied about Preston Snow. He’d lied about giving up his criminal activities. He’d used her to get rid of Ricky Morrison. And God only knew what else he had planned for her.
She went into the bathroom. Terry was lathering himself and humming under the torrent of hot water. ‘You said you were finished with all this,’ said Sam, leaning against the door.
‘Don’t nag, love.’
‘This isn’t nagging. This is conversation. You said you were going to retire, remember? Or are you coming down with early Alzheimer’s?’ Sam stopped as she realised what she’d said. Terry turned to face her, water pouring over his chest. ‘I’m sorry, Terry. I didn’t mean that. Alzheimer’s isn’t . . .’ She cursed.
‘It’s all right, love. I know you didn’t mean anything.’
‘I just . . .’ She shrugged. Grace was never far from her thoughts.
‘I know. Forget about it. Slip of the tongue.’ Terry smiled slyly. ‘Don’t suppose you’d scrub my back, would you?’
Sam picked up a flannel and threw it at him. He grinned and carried on showering.
‘Why do you keep at it, Terry?’ asked Sam. ‘It can’t be the excitement of being shot at.’
‘We’re not out of the woods, money-wise.’
‘Those counterfeit notes you brought in. Three hundred grand, you said.’
Terry turned off the water. Sam held out a towel as he stepped from the shower, dripping wet. ‘I had investors to pay off,’ he said. ‘Debts to settle. We’ve got cashflow now, but we’re not on easy street. Far from it.’
‘Terry, you promised me,’ said Sam. ‘Straight and narrow, you said.’
‘What about one last deal?’ said Terry, wrapping the towel around his waist and picking up another to dry his hair with. ‘A big one?’
Sam tutted and walked out of the bathroom.
Terry followed her, drying his hair. ‘Hear me out, Sam,’ he said.
Sam sat at the dressing table, brushing her hair. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this,’ she said.
Terry sat down on the bed. ‘Remember Micky told you he could put something big our way?’
Sam glared at him in the mirror. ‘Your way. Not our way.’
‘He knows someone who’s got access to some top grade heroin. From Afghanistan.’
Sam waved the brush at him angrily. ‘You want to put together a heroin de
al? For God’s sake, don’t you ever learn? They’ll throw away the key.’
‘Only if we get caught.’
‘There’s that “we” again.’
‘Look, love, I’m not over the moon about this, but if you want me out, we’ve got to have one last big score. Enough money to walk away with.’
Sam gave him a frosty look and went back to brushing her hair.
‘What?’ said Terry. ‘What’s that look for?’
‘You’ve been giving this a lot of thought, haven’t you? This hasn’t just come out of the blue.’
Terry wrapped the towel around his shoulders. ‘I guess so, yeah.’
Sam narrowed her eyes. ‘You weren’t using Micky to plant the idea, were you? Pave the way?’
Terry pulled a pained face as if nothing could have been further from the truth. ‘Sam, come on,’ he said. ‘You were the one who mentioned it to me. Look, we’re not going to be able to live worrying if the next knock on the door is the bailiff. But if we put together one big deal we can take the money and run.’
‘Terry . . .’ said Sam plaintively.
‘That’s where everyone goes wrong, don’t you see? They get greedy, they keep doing what they’re doing until their luck runs out. We do it once, then we walk away.’
‘The cannabis deal was a one-off, and that went belly up,’ said Sam.
‘Too many cooks, that’s why. This time, I’ll keep it simple.’
Sam shook her head, confused. Terry had an answer for everything. ‘Heroin is big time, Terry. You don’t need me to tell you that.’
‘Compared with four tons of cannabis?’
Sam sighed. He had a point. ‘How would we get it into the UK?’ she asked.
Terry smiled and raised an eyebrow and Sam realised that she had said ‘we’ again. She threw her brush at him but it was a half-hearted throw and he easily dodged it.
‘I’ve got a plan,’ said Terry.
‘I just bet you have,’ said Sam.
Terry sat grinning at her.
Sam finished brushing her hair and climbed into bed. ‘Go on, then,’ she said. ‘Tell me.’
‘We bring it in on the booze run,’ said Terry. ‘The vans normally go to Calais to pick up the lager and stuff, but this time we drive down to Spain first. We get Micky’s mechanics to put false compartments in the vans and we pack them with the gear. Then we drive them to Calais and load up with booze. Our drivers never get stopped, and if they are, the worst that’ll happen is that the booze’ll be confiscated. Customs won’t be looking for drugs.’
The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers) Page 29