Death Call (27 page)

‘Well, then I’m coming with you,’ Grant said.

‘I’ll be fine here,’ Wheeler said. ‘Get the bastard for me and Thompson, won’t you?’ Wheeler groaned.

‘You’ll be okay?’ Grant asked.

‘I’ll be fine. Just get the bastard....’ Wheeler replied, clutching his belly in obvious agony.

Carroll looked at his partner and then at Thompson’s lifeless body in the doorway before making his way to the stairwell, followed closely by Grant.

The silence was deafening as they reached the fourth floor. Carroll took the doors on the left, Grant the doors to the right, opening each one with extreme caution.

Unsettled pigeons fluttered around as Carroll and Grant came to the end of the corridor and the stairwell leading to the fifth floor. There were feathers everywhere and the stairs were more that a little unsafe. Keeping to the inside of the steps, the two detectives made their way up to the fifth floor and cautiously moved to the corner of the corridor.

Carroll peered carefully around and began moving forward at a snail’s pace. Again, Carroll took the doors to the left, and Grant the doors to the right.

By now the Specials had gained access to the building and were running up the stairs as fast as they could. Ambulance personnel were already tending to Wheeler. Nothing could be done for Thompson.

Grant saw a slight movement at a door up ahead. It was only a flicker of light, a passing of a shadow, but he knew that someone or something was up ahead. He motioned to Carroll, who fell in behind. They began making their way to the door in silence.

Just as Grant turned to his partner in an effort to slow him down a door opened and Nash took aim. One shot, two shots, three shots rang out. One exploded into Grant’s shoulder, throwing him back against the wall. Carroll held him steady as Nash’s gun jammed. Carroll unholstered and raised his gun.

The sight of Nash struggling with his weapon sent a wave of anger over Grant, who, before he knew what he was doing, had launched himself at the killer.

The two men fell hard on the floor, which gave way beneath them, sending both crashing through to the fourth floor in a pile of plaster and wood. Grant rolled off to one side as Carroll jumped down through the hole in the floor, landing on top of Nash.

Dan’s mind flew through the gruesome scenes he’d had to witness because of the twisted killer before him. Taking Nash by the throat, Carroll began punching him in the face with all of his strength until the killer’s face was a bloody mess and he lay unconscious beneath him. He was surprised he could stop punching Nash, given what he had done.

Carroll disarmed Nash and cuffed him. Grant looked over approvingly. God only knows how, Grant thought, but we did it. His eyes told Carroll all he needed to know.

By the time Carroll had cuffed Nash the Specials were on the scene, armed to the teeth.

‘What kept you?’ Carroll asked, remembering the lifeless form of Thompson slumped against the doorway.

There was no reply. They were here now, and that was all that mattered.

‘Get him out of here before I kill him,’ Carroll shouted at the four armed men who stood before him.

Two approached Nash, who was coming around and made to pick him up by the elbows. Nash pulled a knife from an ankle sheath and lunged at Carroll. Dan side-stepped the killer and turned his weight on him, throwing him forward. A crash of glass and Colin Nash, call girl killer, was on a direct route to the ground floor, head first. Carroll smiled at his partner.

‘Looks like he’s escaped on us again, eh Sam?’

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Grant replied, slowly getting to his feet.

‘Yeah, let’s get out of here....’

The End.

Also by T.S. O’Rourke in eBook format:

Damned Nation (A Carroll & Grant Mystery)

The Republican: An Irish Civil War Story

Mirror, Mirror (a short story)

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