He jumped to his feet. ‘Melanie?’ he asked incredulously.
‘You know her?’ said the man called Jack. He raised the metal rod and swivelled to face her. ‘Is this a trick?’
‘Don’t you catch on quickly, Jack?’ said Melanie. She jerked her knee up into his groin and he doubled over in agony.
Within seconds Ben and the other man had grabbed him and wrestled him face down to the floor.
‘You bitch!’ screamed the man, twisting his head and spitting at her. ‘You filthy fucking bitch!’
‘Talk dirty to me, why don’t you?’ said Melanie to him. She bent over and slid his knife from its leather pouch. ‘Or actually, you could just shut up.’ She ground the tip of her heel into the small of his back. The man screeched.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
High Street, Brixton Hill, South London, wolf moon
A large white van pulled up outside the butcher’s shop, and three men jumped out, slamming the doors behind them and looking around at the empty street.
‘It’s the Serbians,’ said Gary unnecessarily, stubbing out the cigarette he’d lit just a few seconds earlier. ‘They’re here.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I can see that for myself,’ said Kevin. ‘Now stay calm and just remember what I told you. Keep your lips zipped and leave the talking to me.’ It was good that Mihai was still checking the storeroom out the back. With any luck, they’d get the business done and dusted before the boy returned. ‘Now go and open the door to them,’ he said to Gary.
The butcher tugged at the door with his meaty arms and the three men came into the shop without a word.
Zoran entered first, a large rucksack slung over his shoulder. The Serbian boss resembled a slab of raw meat himself – a mountainous man with broad shoulders, heavy arms and fleshy jowls. His eyebrows were bushy and his hair luxuriant, even though it had long since turned the colour of steel. Only his lips were thin, and his eyes were small and beady like a pig’s. His gaze swept around the room, missing nothing.
Behind him came his two henchmen, one of them even more heavily-built than Zoran, the other whip-thin, with a sharp face and enormous oversized ears. Kevin had never been introduced to either of them, nor heard them utter a word. It was always Zoran who did the talking. The two thugs stood behind their boss, their hands in their pockets and scowls on their faces.
‘Right, Zoran?’ said Kevin, striking a friendly tone. ‘You’re bang on time.’ He saw Gary cringe at his choice of words. Perhaps that hadn’t been the best welcome for an arms dealer. He sought to ease things over quickly. ‘You’re a busy man, Zoran, just like me, so let’s get this transaction done and we can all go home, right? We’ve got everything you asked for just here.’ He pointed at the wooden crates stacked neatly in front of the counter. ‘Everything packed up just as you asked. Check it if you like, it’s all there.’ Damn it, he was starting to babble like an idiot. It was all Gary’s fault. The fool had put him on edge with his worrying. He looked to the Serbian man for confirmation that all was in order.
Zoran nodded toward the crates and spoke a few words in Serbian. The two henchmen started opening up the crates and checking their contents.
‘You’ll find everything’s as agreed,’ said Kevin. ‘Nothing missing.’
Zoran said nothing, but waited for his men to do their work.
Kevin began to wonder what had happened to Mihai. The boy had only gone to look for some non-existent mice in the storeroom. What could be keeping him? He’d probably seen the Serbians and decided to stay at the back of the shop. That was fine with Kevin. It was bad enough having to worry about Gary blurting out something stupid. He didn’t need the boy here too. In fact it would have been smarter to have left him at home with Liz. But the best ideas always seemed to come too late.
The Serbians took their time, working methodically through the contents of the crates, leaving nothing to chance. But eventually they finished their work. They nodded at Zoran and moved back into position behind him, one either side of their boss.
Kevin’s nerves were at breaking point, but he was good at keeping his emotions under a blanket. ‘All good?’ he said chirpily. ‘Right then, let’s see what you’ve brought us.’
The Serbian boss smiled at him with his thin lips. ‘Yeah, all is good,’ he agreed. ‘Apart from just one small thing.’
‘Uh,’ said Kevin. ‘What’s that?’ He glanced nervously at the two henchmen standing with their hands in their pockets. He didn’t like those men at all, neither the thin one nor the fat one. He didn’t like anything about them. He especially didn’t like the way their pockets bulged.
‘Unfortunately the deal is off,’ said Zoran. ‘We didn’t bring any guns to give you.’
‘Oh,’ said Kevin, a horrible sense of dread creeping over him. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Because we brought guns to kill you instead.’
The two henchmen brought their hands out of their pockets and there were pistols in them. One gun pointed at Gary, the other at Kevin.
‘It’s very much easier this way,’ explained Zoran, his piggy eyes shining with greed. ‘Now we can take what you agreed to give us, plus everything else you have in your store, and we don’t need to give you anything in return. It’s an elegant solution, don’t you think? I’m surprised you didn’t think of it yourself, Kevin. I thought you were smarter than that.’
Kevin had thought he was smarter than that, too. ‘Come on, Zoran, this isn’t the way to do business,’ he said. ‘We’re trading partners, right? We have a lot more deals to make, a great future ahead of us.’
Zoran shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t think so, Kevin. In fact I think our trading partnership is now over. But you should be happy. I am teaching you a valuable lesson for the future, you know?’ He pulled out his own gun and raised it level with Kevin’s head. ‘But unless you and Gary start loading the entire contents of your shop into the back of our van right now, I don’t think you’ll have any future at all.’
Chapter Seventy-Eight
King’s College Hospital, Lambeth, South London, wolf moon
‘When are we going to do it?’ hissed Seth.
Chris had reluctantly agreed to help the headmaster escape. After all, what choice did he have? Set off the fire alarm or be eaten. That was no choice at all.
He shrugged. ‘The headmaster said not to do anything until we can see the light from the full moon.’
Seth peered through the hospital window. ‘When will that be? I can’t see anything out there.’
Chris nodded miserably. The sky was overcast and dark. Light from streetlamps and from the hospital itself cast a faint glow over everything, making it impossible to tell if the moon was out or not. ‘Maybe it will never happen,’ he said hopefully.
The other patients were all on edge, pacing around the ward, growling whenever they approached Chris and Seth. One of them had already been removed kicking and screaming from the ward by the soldiers after he’d grabbed at a doctor. It was like being locked in a Victorian lunatic asylum. Chris half expected the other inmates to suddenly begin howling at the moon.
Only Mr Canning seemed calm, sitting silently in his bed, not moving, just watching everything that happened with his one good eye. When he caught sight of Chris looking his way he winked.
Chris shuddered. ‘We’ll just have to watch and wait,’ he whispered to Seth. ‘Maybe Mr Canning will give us a sign when he’s ready, or perhaps the other patients will all go mad when the moon comes out.’
Seth looked startled by the prospect. ‘Do you think they will?’ he asked. ‘What then? What if they all go berserk and start attacking the soldiers?’
‘Then I guess Mr Canning won’t need us to create a distraction after all.’
‘What if they start attacking us?’ asked Seth. ‘What if they try to eat us?’
‘I don’t know,’ snapped Chris. He wished Seth would pull himself together. ‘Stop trying to think of all the bad things that might happen. Let’s just hope everyt
hing goes according to plan and Mr Canning keeps his part of the bargain. Then we can escape with him and get out of this madhouse.’
‘Good thinking,’ moaned Seth. ‘Trust the werewolf. Sounds like a plan. What could possibly go wrong?’
‘It’s the only plan we have,’ said Chris angrily. ‘If we don’t do what he says, he’s promised to kill us.’ That wasn’t strictly true. The headmaster had promised to kill Chris. He hadn’t specifically mentioned killing Seth too. But Chris wasn’t going to say anything about that now. He needed to keep his friend as motivated as possible. Instead he tried to reason. ‘If we help Mr Canning, he’s promised to help us too. And just to remind you, the headmaster is the only person who’s offered us any help since this whole apocalypse thing started.’
‘Okay,’ agreed Seth. ‘So when are we going to do it?’
Chris sighed in frustration. ‘If you ask me that again I’m going to turn loopy myself,’ he said. He glanced out of the window one more time. There was a pale light in the sky that might just have been the moon. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s do it now.’
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Brookfield Road, Brixton Hill, South London, wolf moon
There was a fierce knocking on the front door of Liz’s apartment, and the sound of a key turning in the lock. The door opened and Mihai tumbled through, his eyes wide and staring.
Liz rushed to him and gathered him in her arms, but he struggled free of her embrace and began shouting, his arms waving expansively as he sought to grasp the English words he needed. ‘Is big problem. Grandpa Kevin needs help.’
‘What kind of problem?’ she asked. ‘What kind of help?’
Mihai gave her a look of exasperation. ‘Is no time to tell,’ he said. ‘Help now, please. Is emergency.’
She tried to calm him down, but the boy waved his hands in agitation. ‘Come to butcher’s shop,’ he said. ‘Come now. You and Dean, come already.’
‘Tell me what happened,’ insisted Liz.
‘Bad men with guns come,’ said Mihai. He mimed the pistols with his fingers. ‘They say shoot Grandpa Kevin and Uncle Gary.’
Liz pulled a face. ‘Oh God,’ she muttered. ‘What has that fool gone and done now?’
Dean appeared in the hallway, the Glock in his holster, the carbine in his hands, and his boots already on his feet. ‘Never mind what he did. Let’s go and sort this,’ he said.
She hesitated. The night of the wolf moon had come and she had promised herself not to set foot outdoors. But the situation gave her no choice. ‘All right,’ she agreed.
Mihai seemed relieved. He dragged her by the arm toward the door, ‘Okay, no time to talk. Must come now.’
Liz stopped him before he could drag her any further. ‘Dean and I will go immediately,’ she said. ‘But you must stay here with Samantha.’
Dean’s wife had already appeared from the kitchen, and she took hold of Mihai’s hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘We’ll stay here together and keep safe.’
‘No!’ protested Mihai.
‘Yes,’ insisted Liz.
Samantha gave Dean a quick hug. ‘Take care!’
He kissed her on the cheek. ‘I will, love. You stay here with Lily and Mihai. Keep the door locked and call me if anything happens.’
They ran to the butcher’s shop, Liz struggling to imagine how her father had got tangled up with armed men. She remembered the food that kept mysteriously appearing in her kitchen cupboards, the meat that filled her freezer. She’d guessed he was up to no good – Kevin always was – but she’d never imagined him getting in this deep.
‘What do you think’s happened exactly?’ asked Dean.
‘I don’t know,’ said Liz. ‘It sounds like an armed raid on the butcher’s shop. Either that, or else they’ve got mixed up with bad company.’
‘Very bad, if these men have guns,’ said Dean. ‘Here, have this.’ He held out the Glock for her to take. ‘Go on, it’s yours,’ he said when she hesitated. ‘I taught you to shoot for a reason. I’ve got the rifle, and if we’re going up against an armed gang, then we both need firearms.’
‘Okay,’ agreed Liz. ‘But don’t shoot unless there’s no other choice. Dad mustn’t get hurt.’
‘Should we call for backup?’ asked Dean.
Calling for armed backup was standard procedure in any firearms incident. In normal circumstances, Dean wouldn’t even have asked her before making the call. But Liz had almost forgotten what normal circumstances were. ‘I don’t want Dad to get into trouble,’ she said. ‘Let’s check out the situation before we involve anyone else.’
The butcher’s shop was only a couple of minutes away. They approached it from a side street, keeping low behind a brick wall along the side of a terraced house. Dean went in front.
‘What can you see?’ asked Liz. She pushed up behind him so she could see too. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, making Liz’s trousers turn wet and cold. But at least the snow clouds had covered the sky, making the dim circle of the wolf moon barely visible behind them.
The area was well-lit with streetlamps. No cars moved along the road, but a tall delivery van was parked right outside the butcher’s shop, the rear of the van open and facing them. Wooden crates and cardboard packages were stacked inside. ‘That doesn’t look like a meat delivery,’ said Dean.
A group of men emerged from the butcher’s shop. ‘It’s Kevin,’ whispered Liz. ‘And his friend, Gary the butcher.’ The two men were carrying more crates in their arms. Three strangers followed them, holding guns. ‘Shit,’ breathed Liz. She’d hoped that Mihai had somehow been mistaken, or that something had got lost in translation. But it was just as he’d described. Bad men, with guns.
The armed men glanced warily around them, but the street was empty of pedestrians. The spectre of tonight’s wolf moon was keeping law-abiding citizens safe in their houses. Kevin and Gary placed the wooden crates carefully inside the van and went back into the shop. The armed men followed.
‘How do you want to play it?’ asked Dean.
‘There are three of them at least,’ said Liz. ‘Maybe more inside the shop or in the front of the van.’
‘Right,’ said Dean. ‘We’re outnumbered, but at this distance I could probably take one or two down before they even know we’re here.’
‘No way,’ said Liz. ‘If you do that, they’ll just kill Dad and the butcher. We need to play it safe. I say we wait and watch. It looks like they’re clearing out the stock. They might just drive away when they’ve got everything they came for.’
‘Maybe,’ said Dean. ‘Or they might decide to leave no witnesses alive.’
‘I won’t kick off a firestorm without a good reason,’ she said. ‘It’s my father who’ll get killed if we screw up. We do it my way.’
Chapter Eighty
High Street, Brixton Hill, South London, wolf moon
Kevin wondered how Mihai had managed to vanish out of the storeroom. Probably scarpered out of the window when he heard the trouble unfolding in the front of the shop. He glanced up and saw that one of the window panes was missing. That was a smart trick. He’d always known the kid was bright. If he’d been a bit slimmer and a few years younger he might have tried hoisting himself up and out himself. But the thin Serbian had followed him into the storeroom, gun in hand, so there was no chance of that.
He lifted another of the crates and carried it out of the storeroom to the waiting van. Every step was an agony, and not because the crate was so heavy. What hurt him most wasn’t even the betrayal. He’d known that Zoran’s loyalty extended only as far as he could see a profit, and he had no problem with that. Business was business after all. Kevin might have done the same if the roles had been reversed. What caused him almost physical pain was having to load his entire stock into the back of the bastard’s van.
Kevin had built his growing business empire through hard graft and determination. He’d poured his life savings into this venture. Chances like this came once in a li
fetime, and then only if you got lucky. Kevin would never get a chance like this again. It wasn’t just boxes and crates he was carrying into the Serbian’s van. It was his hopes, his dreams, his future. ‘Bastards,’ he whispered to Gary. ‘Dirty treacherous bastards.’
Gary was virtually in tears himself. ‘My old man passed this shop down to me,’ he muttered. ‘The last thing he said when he was lying on his deathbed was, Take good care of the butcher’s shop, Gary. I’ll be looking out for you when I’m up in Heaven. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you. Those were his last words. Now look at the place. There’s nothing left. I let him down, Kevin. I failed the old bugger.’
The thin Serb with the cruel face prodded Gary in the back with the barrel of the gun. ‘No talking. Keep working.’ It was the first thing Kevin had ever heard him say.
‘Bastard,’ he muttered under his breath. You can never trust a foreigner, his dad had told him more than once. Quite a few times in fact. And he’d been right. Apart from Mihai, of course. That boy was all right. Kevin was glad he’d got out safely. He wondered if he’d ever see the kid again. He wondered if he’d see his daughter, Liz. She’d be mad with him after this, but he could live with that. If he could just see her face one more time, he wouldn’t even regret the collapse of all his hopes and dreams.
In front of him, Gary stumbled in the road and dropped the wooden crate he’d been lugging. It crashed to the ground, splintering open. Bottles of whisky spilled onto the hard pavement, some breaking open, some rolling into the gutter. The sharp smell of the amber liquid quickly reached Kevin’s nostrils.
He’d thought Gary had tripped, but quickly realized it had been deliberate. The butcher spun round and threw his fist at the nearest Serbian, the fat one. It smashed into his big round face like a joint of ham.
Lycanthropic (Book 2): Wolf Moon (The Rise of the Werewolves) Page 30