Gray Vengeance (13 page)

While Connor went to round up the other hundred or so members of the gang, Shanka tried to make his brother comfortable.

‘You know we ain’t going to the hospital,’ he told Ben, as he opened his phone and started up the Maps application. He looked for the Muslim-owned office building, and from the overhead view Shanka could see that it was a detached building, with easy access to the rear. He toggled to the street view, where he saw the bars on the windows. He asked if they were still in place, and Ben confirmed that they were.

An idea crept into Townly’s mind, and he let it mature until, twenty minutes later, he had a solid plan.

‘I’ll be back soon, bruv.’

On his way to the lock-up garage, he called in on a few of his men and instructed them to get some petrol and bring it along to the meeting point.

Just after midnight, the majority of the gang was assembled at the garage. Shanka unlocked the swing-up door and entered, along with Connor. He closed the door and switched on the overhead light, and told Connor to help him move the oily motorcycle engine that was sitting on a piece of plywood in the far corner of the small space. Underneath the wood was a drain cover, and after removing it, Shanka put his arm deep into the hole and grabbed the string that was wrapped around a hook. He slowly lifted o
ut t
he lo
ng plas
tic bag, then began removing the rubber bands that secured the contents against water damage. Once that was opened, he laid t
he we
apons out on the floor.

There were six Ingram Mac-10 submachine guns along with twice as many magazines, all full and ready to go. He also had four pistols with plenty of ammunition.

‘Hand these out,’ he told Connor, selecting one of the
Mac-1
0s for himself. Connor swung the door open and began distributing the guns, while Shanka explained the mission ahead. It took te
n minu
tes, but once everyone was sure of their role, they set off to show the world that no-one messed with the Selden Crew.

They kept to the side streets to avoid any patrol cars that might be in the vicinity. A group of hooded youths out at midnight with riots in the area would only mean one thing, and Shanka didn’t want to be stopped and searched. Thankfully, they heard no sirens, though there were plenty of car and building alarms going off. Whoever DJ Maxwell was, his Facebook post about there being no police in this part of town seemed to be spot on. In the London riots the previous year, the authorities had been able to call in officers from other regions to break things up, but with every major city facing the same problem, the police had no choice but to prioritise resources. With this being one of the poorer areas affected, it was probably well down their list, the Oxford Street and Mayfair unrests taking precedence.

When they reached a point three hundred yards from the office building, Shanka started positioning lookouts to warn of any trouble, and took sixty men with him to finish the job. He knew it was overkill, but if anyone did turn up to spoil the party, it would be easier to slip away. It was the same reason birds flocked together: safety in numbers meant each had a greater chance of survival.

‘Here’s how we play this. You three go in and blast the place. If we get a reaction, we know they’re still inside.’

‘Why don’t we just torch it?’ one of his men asked.

‘Because if there’s no-one in the building, I want to get in and find some names. This ain’t about burning down an office, it’s about my brother. And it doesn’t end here, see?’

Shanka got a shrug in response, which was the best he could have hoped for. Few with any brains ever joined a gang, and most of his men were good for nothing more than peddling his drugs and settling scores. That suited him fine, as it meant plenty to take the fall when things went bad.

He ordered three men to kick things off, then stood back to see what happened.

Just after one in the morning, Gray woke from his nap to take over from Sonny, who had been on watch for the past two hours. Before relieving his friend, he checked on the girls. He found Gill fast asleep on her cot, with Melissa lying in the next bed, and he crept out before closing the boardroom door.

‘Anything?’ he asked Sonny, who was sitting behind the
reception
desk.

‘It seems to have quietened down,’ Sonny said. ‘A few
buildings
are on fire down the street, but I haven’t heard any sirens yet. The fire service must be at breaking point.’

‘Hopefully it will stay quiet,’ Gray told him, moving over t
o t
he shattered double doors. ‘I’d like to be out of here by seven at the latest. Hopefully these thugs will have worn themselves out b
y the
n
an
d the streets will be a lot less crowded.’

There hadn’t been much they could do to repair the damage, but the desk from Smart’s office now lay on its side, and the edge was wedged underneath the door handles. It wasn’t foolproof, but if anyone was thinking of rushing the place, it would hold them back for a while.

Certainly long enough for Gray and his team to get them in their sights.

‘Go get some sleep,’ Gray said, and settled into the warm chair behind the semicircle of polished oak that formed the reception desk.

It puzzled him that the crowd had been shouting racial epithets when there was nothing to suggest a Muslim link to his business, but he eventually settled on the notion that they’d simply mistaken his office for another building.

He began thinking about the safest route home, wondering just how long it would take with Gill and Melissa to worry about. On his own, he could jog it in no time, but the girls would make it rather slow going. Gill’s teenage years were a distant memory, so he guessed they would be on their feet for about six hours. It wouldn’t be easy going for his receptionist, but at least they would all be out of the city centre, where most of the attacks were taking place.

When he got home, he might have to deal with the lack of power. It was possible that his area had been spared the blackout, but he didn’t want to bank on it. Fortunately, he had plenty of candles and a couple of torches, but it was heating for Melissa that he was worried about. His house wasn’t that cold, even with the central heating off, but he would make sure she stayed bundled up until power was restored to the area.

With the office lights off, he had a clear view of the outside street, and from under a street lamp he saw someone striding
confidently
towards the office doors. The approaching figure was suddenly joined by two others, and a crowd began to gather behind the trio as they reached a point five yards from the entrance, where they raised their arms, aiming at the glass.

Gray threw himself to the floor a split second before the bullets from the submachine guns began peppering the reception area. Splinters of wood and glass nipped at his skin as he crawled to the side of the reception desk, and when he glanced into the office he saw both Smart and Sonny taking cover, their weapons gripped tightly.

Outside, the firing stopped. Gray stuck his head out, but his view was obstructed by the table that was wedged against the door, which had given up hope of retaining any glass. Shards littered the reception area, and a chill wind blew through the building as he eased himself up onto his haunches. He looked over at Sonny, hoping his friend could see what was happening, and in response he got a hand signal indicating that one of the shooters was approaching the door.

Gray held his pistol in a two-handed grip and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, then sprang up from behind the counter. The man before him was barely three yards away, and didn’t even have time to register surprise before two rounds entered his skull, one an inch over the right eyebrow and the other through the bridge of the nose.

Gray ducked as more incoming fire shredded the reception area. When it stopped for a second time, he asked Sonny for another update.

It wasn’t good.

Sonny indicated that several bodies had gone round the side of the building, obviously hoping to break in through the emergency exit at the rear. It also meant they would be able to shoot through the windows, which would put Gill and Melissa in the firing line.

Gray wanted to get to them, but to do so would mean breaking cover. Sonny and Smart wouldn’t be able to offer covering fire as he would be running past them, so would be more likely to take a friendly round than anything else.

He had no choice but to let his friend secure Gill and Melissa.

‘Sonny, when I say go, get to the boardroom and grab the girls. Take them upstairs and make sure they keep their heads down.’

Sonny nodded, and on Gray’s command he sprang to his feet, covering the short distance to the boardroom and barging through the heavy doors in the time it took Gray to squeeze off three rounds. He found Gill in a foetal position, her body wrapped around the little girl and visibly shaking. Back in the hallway, the firing had stopped, but Sonny knew it was far from over.

He grabbed Gill’s arm and dragged her to her feet, the time for niceties well behind them.

‘You have to get upstairs,’ he told her, pulling her towards the door. The stairs were ten feet away, and after checking to make sure the coast was clear, he put his arm around her and ran, keeping his body between the girls and the front door.

They made it to the foot of the stairs just as shooting erupted once more.

‘Hurry, Gill!’

Gill managed a few steps before she stumbled and slid down, rolling her body so as not to hurt Melissa. Sonny caught her at the bottom of the stairs, and was about to urge her upwards once more when the windows on the first floor landing exploded inwards, showering them in glass. Seconds later, a bottle smashed against the outer security bars and flaming petrol poured through the gap. Black smoke immediately started billowing towards the ceiling, and Sonny pulled Gill away from the staircase.

‘Stay here!’

He pushed her into a corner and ran to the entrance, where Gray was picking off targets.

‘There’s a fire upstairs,’ he told Gray. ‘I’m going to try to put it out.’

Sonny ducked into the tiny kitchen and emerged with the CO
2
extinguisher, then sprinted up the stairs and began tackling the blaze. By this time, it had consumed one entire wall and a large part of the ceiling. Below, he could hear Smart taking pot-shots out of the office window, and he hoped his friends were gaining the upper hand. If any more petrol bombs hit their target, they would soon be overwhelmed. His small extinguisher made hard work of the fire, but eventually he managed to snuff out the last of the flames with the final blasts of CO
2
.

Sonny tossed the empty device aside and went into one o
f t
he rear-facing upper rooms, pulling out his weapon as he moved. T
he win
dow here was also destroyed, and through it he saw two more people preparing a Molotov. He waited until the rag was set alight, then shot the man holding it through the chest as his arm raised to throw it. The bottle fell and shattered, flames
immolating
both men. Sonny trained his weapon on the next target, a man changing the magazine on an automatic weapon. A shot to the throat took him out, and when he dropped his weapon, Sonny got a bead on the man who ran up to retrieve it.

The sound of a siren battled through the shop and car alarms, and the attack stopped as quickly as it had started. Sonny watched the hooded men freeze at the approaching noise, and they quickly dispersed, running in all directions.

All except the one retrieving the Mac-10.

Sonny silently urged him to forget the weapon and leave, but once the man picked up the machine gun, his fate was sealed. His third shot of the skirmish found its mark, and a cry rang out from Sonny’s right, followed immediately by a burst of gunfire. Sonny instinctively ducked for cover as the rounds went high and wide of the window, then brought his pistol up and got the target’s head in his sights.