The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers) (44 page)

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 might 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.

The driver nodded eagerly and smiled, revealing that his two front teeth were missing.

Blackie went over to the massive wrought-iron gates. They weren’t locked and he walked through and along the driveway. He went around the side of the villa, keeping close to the wall. He could hear splashing, and laughing.

As he turned the corner, he stopped dead as he was confronted by a large man. A large man who was smiling, with an amused look in his eyes. ‘Chief Superintendent Blackstock,’ said McKinley. ‘As I live and breathe.’

‘Where is she?’ asked Blackie.

McKinley gestured with his chin. ‘Poolside,’ he said.

Blackie nodded and headed towards the swimming pool. McKinley followed.

Sam was sitting by the side of the pool, reading a newspaper. On a table next to her was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. Laura was lying on a sun lounger, and Trisha was swimming in the pool. Sam saw Blackie and she stood up and waved. She popped the cork out of the champagne bottle and poured three glasses. She handed one to Blackie and one to McKinley, then raised her own glass to the detective. ‘Couldn’t have done it without you, Blackie,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

They clinked glasses, then McKinley toasted them both.

Blackie sipped his champagne and looked across at the villa. ‘Nice place,’ he said. ‘I hope you haven’t spent it all.’

Sam grinned and nodded at a briefcase by the side of her chair. Blackie picked it up and swung it on to the table, then clicked open the locks. It was full of cash. Fifty-pound notes. ‘These better not be moody notes, Sam,’ he said.

‘You know me better than that, Blackie,’ said Sam. She nodded at the money. ‘And they say crime doesn’t pay.’

‘I don’t think they do, actually. Not any more.’ Blackie shut the briefcase and drained his champagne glass. ‘You heard from Terry?’ he asked.

Sam shook her head. ‘How is he?’

‘Lying low,’ said Blackie. ‘Geoff Donovan’s after his blood.’

‘Terry can take care of himself,’ said Sam. ‘He’s a big boy.’

Blackie picked up the briefcase and left. Sam and McKinley watched him go.

‘The best police that money can buy,’ said McKinley. ‘That’s what they used to say about the Met.’

‘Yeah, but it can’t buy you happiness, can it, Andy?’

McKinley looked at her, concerned. ‘You okay, Mrs Greene?’

Sam sipped her champagne. ‘Yeah, I guess so. We’ll see how it works out, yeah?’

‘He never stopped loving you, you know that.’

‘Yeah. I know.’ She reached over and clinked glasses with him. ‘To crime, hey?’

McKinley grinned. ‘Yeah. To crime.’