The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers)

by Stephen Leather

  Simpson’s mobile phone rang and he walked away to answer it. The chief inspector went back to his men.

  Welch put his hands in his coat pockets and walked to the middle of the factory. The chief inspector was right. Terry Greene hadn’t been anywhere near the factory. No one had. One of the Alsatians was cocking its leg against the wall of the factory.

  There was more laughter from the armed police as they headed back to their van.

  Simpson came over, holding out his mobile phone. ‘Guv, it’s the super. Wants to know how we got on.’

  Welch shook his head. He was going to need time to get his story straight before he spoke to Superintendent Edwards. He had a lot of explaining to do, but for the life of him he couldn’t work out where it had all gone wrong.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Geoff Donovan tested the third batch of heroin as Terry stood watching over his shoulder. Donovan nodded. ‘This is bloody good stuff, Terry,’ he said.

  ‘Told you,’ said Terry, patting Geoff on the back. ‘They know their heroin, the Russians.’

  ‘You going to be bringing any more over? This is ten times better than the shit we’ve been getting through the fucking Turks.’

  Terry grinned. He lowered his head and put his mouth close to Donovan’s ear. ‘Could well be, Geoff, but for fuck’s sake don’t tell Sam.’ Terry straightened up and looked over at McKinley, who was supervising the counting of the money. ‘How’s it going, lads?’

  Fletcher put the last block of notes in the automatic counter and watched as they whirred through the machine. Ryser wrote down the number and handed the final total to McKinley. ‘It’s short,’ said McKinley.

  Donovan frowned. ‘Say what?’ He put down his test tube and stood up.

  ‘It’s twenty quid light,’ said McKinley. He held up the notebook. ‘Have a look for yourself.’

  Donovan took out his wallet and handed Terry a twenty-pound note. ‘Can’t be bothered with a recount,’ he said. ‘Life’s too fucking short.’

  ‘Pleasure doing business with you, Geoff,’ said Terry, pocketing the note. The two men shook hands, then hugged and clapped each other on the back.

  Sam was pacing up and down by the BMW, and Terry went over and gave her a hug. ‘It’s all done, love. Let’s go home.’

  Donovan shouted over to his three heavies and told them to put the packages of heroin into the holdalls. Fletcher, Ryser and Pike started to pick up the suitcases.

  ‘Andy, open up the boot, yeah?’

  McKinley nodded and walked over to the BMW.

  Suddenly there was the thunderous roar of a shotgun and everyone flinched. Four men in ski masks burst in through the doorway. Three of them were holding handguns, the fourth had a sawn-off shotgun. Another masked man appeared from behind a stack of old oil barrels at the far end of the factory, holding an assault rifle.

  ‘What the fuck’s this?’ shouted Donovan.

  The men ran over to Fletcher and the team, waving their weapons and screaming. ‘Drop the cases! Get on the floor now!’ shouted the man with the shotgun.

  Two more men in ski masks appeared at the back of the factory. They ran over to Donovan and his crew, waving handguns and shouting. Donovan’s men stopped putting the heroin in the holdalls and raised their hands in surrender. One of the masked men picked up one of the holdalls. ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ yelled Donovan. The other masked man smashed his gun against the side of Donovan’s head and he fell against the side of a van, blood pouring from his scalp. The man who’d hit him began kicking him hard in the stomach, grunting with each blow.

  Fletcher, Ryser and Pike lay face down on the floor, their arms outstretched. Two of the masked men picked up the suitcases.

  ‘That’s my fucking money!’ shouted Terry.

  ‘Terry, no,’ cried Sam, grabbing at his arm. She pulled him back. ‘Leave it,’ she shouted. ‘Let them have what they want.’

  A heavily built man in a dark blue ski mask and a camouflage jacket stepped in front of Terry and pointed a large handgun at his face. ‘Do as she says,’ he said.

  Terry snarled at the masked man. ‘Do you know who I am?’ he shouted.

  ‘I don’t give a fuck who you are,’ said the man.

  ‘I’ll get you. I’ll track you down, and when I find you, you are fucking dead. Dead!’

  The man in the blue ski mask took a step towards Terry, cocking the automatic with his gloved thumb.

  ‘Terry, watch it,’ shouted McKinley. He ran over from the BMW and stood in front of Terry.

  Terry pushed him to the side. ‘I can handle this, Andy. It’s not the first time I’ve looked at a gun.’

  Donovan staggered to his feet, propping himself up against the van. Two of his crew went to help him.

  Terry pointed at the man in the blue mask. ‘You’re not gonna get away with this. On my fucking life I’ll seal your fate.’

  The man stepped forward and kicked Terry in the stomach with a booted foot. Terry fell backwards and banged into Sam, gasping in pain. He hit the ground and Sam screamed.

  McKinley roared and charged at the man.

  ‘Andy, no!’ screamed Sam.

  The man fired, once, and McKinley pitched forward, his hand clutching at his chest.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Terry stared in disbelief as McKinley slumped to the ground. ‘Andy,’ he gasped. McKinley’s feet twitched and then went still. ‘Andy!’ screamed Terry. ‘For fuck’s sake, no!’

  The shotgun blasted again, scattering pigeons in the roof overhead. Flakes of rust sprinkled down like dirty snow. Terry tried to get to his feet, but a bolt of pain shot through his stomach where he’d been kicked.

  Donovan was hustled towards the exit by his three heavies, all of them bent double. One of the men with the holdalls let loose a volley of shots, and bullets thwacked into the wall above Donovan’s head.

  ‘Terry, come on, get out of here!’ shouted Donovan. ‘They’ll fucking kill us all.’

  Terry continued to stare at McKinley’s prostate body, unable to believe what he’d seen.

  Sam rushed over to McKinley and knelt down next to him. ‘Andy!’ she cried. She reached her hand into his jacket. ‘Oh God, Andy, no!’ She pulled out her hand and held it up. It glistened redly. Sam turned to look at Terry, tears in her eyes. ‘Terry . . .’ she said.

  ‘Sam, get away from him,’ Terry shouted. The man in the blue ski mask turned his gun towards Sam but her attention was focused on Terry. ‘This is all your fault, Terry,’ hissed Sam. ‘This is all down to you.’

  Terry pushed himself up to his knees, ignoring the pain in his stomach. ‘Sam, get out! Run!’

  There was a faraway look in Sam’s eyes as if she wasn’t listening. She turned slowly to look at the man in the blue ski mask.

  ‘You’ve killed him!’ she moaned. ‘You’ve fucking killed him!’

  ‘Sam, no!’ Terry screamed.

  Donovan and his crew ran out of the factory, cursing and swearing. Bullets thudded into the wall near the entrance.

  Terry’s ears were ringing from the noise of the gunshots and the air was thick with the acrid smell of cordite.

  Sam slowly got to her feet. The man in the blue ski mask kept the gun levelled at her chest as he stared at her with unblinking eyes. Even from where he was kneeling, Terry could see the man’s finger tightening on the trigger and the look of determination in his eyes. Terry knew without a shadow of a doubt that the man was prepared to shoot Sam.

  ‘Leave it, Sam!’ Terry shouted. ‘Leave it!’

  Sam took a step towards the man in the blue ski mask, tottering like a sleepwalker. Her hands were outstretched, her fingers curved like talons. McKinley’s blood dripped from her right hand. The man took a step back, the gun pointing at her chest. Sam kept on walking. ‘You bastard!’ she hissed.

  ‘Sam!’ screamed Terry, holding a hand to his stomach as he struggled to get up off his knees. ‘Sam! No!’

  ‘Get back!’ shouted the man in the blue ski mask.
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  ‘I’ll fucking kill you!’ Sam screamed, and she rushed towards him, her hands grabbing for his masked face.

  ‘Sam!’ yelled Terry.

  Sam grabbed the man’s throat. The gun went off and Terry flinched. Sam stiffened and her head went back.

  ‘No!’ Terry screamed. ‘No!’

  Sam slowly slumped down against her assailant, her hands clawing down his chest. She dropped down on to her knees and then fell sideways. She twisted as she fell, and Terry saw a patch of glistening blood on the front of her coat.

  The man in the blue ski mask moved back, staring down at Sam’s body. He looked at his gun, then back at Sam.

  Terry stared at the man in horror. ‘What have you done?’ he screamed. ‘What the fuck have you done!’

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Kim Fletcher got to his feet. The masked men were all staring at Sam, who lay unmoving on the concrete floor. There was an eerie silence, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

  Pike looked up at Fletcher, who motioned for him to stand up. Terry was bent double, holding his stomach with both hands. He was in shock, his mouth moving soundlessly.

  The man who’d shot Sam slowly raised his gun and pointed it at Terry.

  ‘Terry!’ Fletcher yelled. ‘Watch out!’

  Terry looked up and saw the man in the blue ski mask taking aim. He staggered to the left just as the man fired, and the bullet went wide, smacking into a steel pillar.

  From outside, Fletcher heard car doors slam and the roar of a high-powered engine as Donovan and his crew sped away.

  Ryser was getting to his feet. The masked man with the shotgun whirled around and fired, narrowly missing Pike. Bits of shot peppered Fletcher’s jacket but he wasn’t hurt.

  ‘Come on!’ Fletcher roared, and charged towards Terry, who had stopped moving and was cursing at the gunman. Ryser followed.

  There was another deafening shotgun blast, but Fletcher didn’t look around. His eyes were fixed on Terry.

  The man in the blue ski mask whirled around in a crouch, both hands on his gun, and fired two shots at Fletcher. The shots went wide and Fletcher grabbed Terry by the coat and hustled him towards the BMW. Ryser helped support Terry, who kept muttering his wife’s name.

  The gunman fired again, and the offside rear window of the BMW exploded in a shower of glass.

  ‘Terry, come on!’ yelled Pike. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

  Fletcher threw himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine and Pike grabbed the rear door, throwing Terry into the back as a bullet embedded itself in the front wing. ‘Come on, come on!’ yelled Fletcher.

  Ryser pulled open the front passenger door, and had barely dropped down into the seat before Fletcher stamped on the accelerator and the BMW leapt forward.

  As Ryser slammed the door shout, Fletcher powered the BMW towards the man in the blue ski mask. The man let off a volley of shots and then dived out of the way as the BMW surged through the doorway. Fletcher caught a glimpse of the bodies of McKinley and Sam lying on the floor like broken dolls, and then they were gone.

  Terry peered out of the window but Pike pulled him back. ‘Keep your head down, boss!’ Pike shouted. The BMW roared down the road, away from the factory. The slipstream from the broken window ripped through the car and tugged at their hair.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ said Fletcher, flooring the accelerator. ‘I thought we were fucking dead there.’

  ‘Sam . . .’ whispered Terry.

  ‘Who were they, Terry? asked Pike.

  ‘Got to be the fucking Kosovans,’ said Fletcher.

  ‘Bastards,’ hissed Pike.

  Terry looked out of the rear window. ‘Sam . . .’ he repeated.

  Fletcher looked anxiously over his shoulder and exchanged a worried look with Pike.

  ‘There was nothing you could do, boss,’ said Pike.

  Terry didn’t appear to hear him. ‘Sam . . .’ he muttered, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The man with the shotgun went over to the entrance and looked out, then turned and waved. ‘They’ve gone!’ he shouted.

  The man in the blue ski mask tucked his handgun into the belt of his trousers. He walked slowly over to where Sam and McKinley were lying and pulled off his blue ski mask.

  He prodded Sam’s arm with his foot. ‘It’s okay,’ he said.

  Sam opened her eyes and rolled over. ‘God, Zoran, that was terrifying.’

  ‘You were perfect,’ said Zoran Poskovic. He held out his hand and pulled her up. ‘What an actress!’

  ‘I was scared to death.’

  Poskovic picked her up and gave her a bone-crushing bearhug, squeezing the air from her chest.

  McKinley sat up and opened his jacket. He examined the fake bloodstain on his shirt and grinned up at Sam. Sam smiled back. He stood up and they embraced.

  ‘You’re a star, Andy,’ she said.

  Poskovic shouted to his men to collect the drugs and take them out to their car.

  ‘You’re going to have to be careful, Zoran,’ said Sam. ‘Terry’s not stupid, he’ll put two and two together and he’s going to be after your blood.’

  ‘He’ll be too busy running from Donovan,’ said Poskovic. He gestured at the suitcases. ‘Unless you’re planning to give him back his money.’

  ‘That’s the last thing on my mind,’ laughed Sam. ‘Can your guys give Andy and me a hand with the suitcases? And there’s something in the boot of the Saab I need.’

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Terry stared out of the back window. ‘Are they following us, boss?’ asked Fletcher from the driving seat. He changed up a gear and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

  Terry shook his head. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Thank fuck for that,’ said Ryser. ‘They were well tooled up.’

  ‘Yeah, they were, weren’t they?’ said Terry, a far-off look in his eyes.

  ‘We were lucky,’ said Pike. ‘Bloody lucky. They missed me by inches.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Terry. ‘But they did miss you, didn’t they? No one got hit.’

  ‘They shot out the window of the motor,’ said Ryser as he checked the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Yeah, but no one got hurt,’ said Terry. ‘Except for Sam and McKinley.’ He frowned. Then he shook his head. ‘Something’s not right,’ he said. ‘Stop the car.’

  ‘What?’ said Fletcher, twisting around in his seat.

  ‘Stop the fucking car!’ shouted Terry.

  Fletcher brought the BMW to a stop in a screech of brakes. ‘What’s wrong, boss?’ asked Pike.

  Terry rubbed his chin. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. He frowned as he thought back to what had happened in the factory. The sawn-off shotgun. The handguns. The threats. McKinley’s rush towards the masked men. The gunshot. Sam’s reaction. The blood on her hand. The look on Sam’s face, and then her rush towards the killer. Sam being shot and falling to the floor.

  ‘They only shot McKinley and Sam,’ said Terry, ‘but neither of them was armed. None of us was. They must have seen that we weren’t shooting back . . .’ He shook his head. ‘This doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘Boss, they could have killed us,’ said Ryser.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Terry. He tapped Fletcher on the shoulder. ‘Back to the factory, Kim.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, boss,’ said Fletcher.

  ‘Do as you’re fucking told!’ shouted Terry.

  Fletcher’s cheeks flushed and he did a hurried three-point turn and headed back to the factory. Terry stared out of the window, his face a blank mask.

  ‘Are you sure about this, boss?’ asked Pike. ‘They might still be there.’

  Terry gave Pike a cold stare and Pike looked away quickly.

  Ryser pulled up in front of the factory. ‘You lot stay here,’ said Terry, opening the door of the BMW.

  ‘We should come with you, boss,’ said Fletcher. ‘They mi
ght still be inside.’

  Terry shook his head. ‘There’s no need,’ he said.

  Terry walked slowly back into the factory. It was deserted. He walked over to where Sam and McKinley had been shot. There was no blood on the concrete floor, but there were indentations in the dust where they had been lying. Terry smiled and shook his head slowly. ‘Oh, Sam,’ he whispered to himself. Then he saw the television set on a table. As he walked closer he saw that it was a combined television and video player and that there was a videocassette in the slot with ‘Play me’ written on the side.

  Terry ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the roof of the factory, where several pigeons were sitting in the rafters, cooing softly. ‘Sam, Sam, Sam,’ he whispered. He pushed the cassette into the slot and pressed the ‘play’ button.

  The screen flickered, and then she was there, smiling at the camera. Full make-up, a soft blue shirt, a thin gold chain with a small crucifix. ‘Hello, Terry, how’s your luck?’ she said.

  She paused, and Terry folded his arms, still shaking his head.

  ‘I know you’re probably not a happy bunny at the moment,’ she continued, ‘but believe me, you’ll see the funny side in a month or two.’

  She paused again, as if giving Terry time to react. Terry just smiled and carried on shaking his head in wonder.

  ‘Twenty-some years a wife and mother, you owe me, Terry Greene. I deserve a holiday in the sun, so that’s where I’m going, with Trisha and Laura. I’m not hiding, I know you’ll be able to find me, but if you do turn up on my doorstep, it had better be with a smile on your face and a bunch of flowers in your hand. I’ve got all the evidence I need to see you go inside for a long time, and it’s all tucked up in a safe deposit box, so be nice, yeah?’

  She looked into the camera and smiled a little sadly.

  ‘You shouldn’t have lied to me, Terry. Don’t do it again, yeah?’

  The screen flickered and went black. Terry stared at the television for several seconds, then he began to laugh. He threw back his head and laughed long and hard, and the pigeons above his head scattered and flew around in flurry of wings.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The taxi pulled up in front of a large villa perched on the top of a hill overlooking the sea. Blackie got out and stretched. He patted the roof of the taxi. ‘Wait,’ he said.