hard landing first chapter · 2019-12-17 · that was something else that was going to change, she...

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HARD LANDING FIRST CHAPTER Trish Elliott ran her hand across her stomach for the hundredth time since she’d left the doctor’s surgery. It didn’t feel as if there was a new life growing inside her, it was far too early for any movement or kicks, far too soon for the baby to be making its presence felt. But Trish had known, known at the very moment that Jonathon had come inside her, that this time, after years of trying, she was pregnant. She’d bought a pregnancy test kit the very next day but it had been negative, and she’d gone out the day after that and it had also been negative. But Trish had known, deep down inside she’d known, and a third pregnancy test had confirmed what her body had been telling her. She was pregnant, at last. She hadn’t said anything to her husband and she’d left it another month until she’d gone to see her doctor, but now there was no doubt. Pregnant. She whispered the word to herself as she parked the car at the side of the road, relishing the sound of it. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said softly. ‘I am pregnant. I am having a baby.’ She wanted to run down the street and tell everybody, to shout it to the sky, to phone every friend and relative she had. But she also enjoyed the fact the she had such a delicious secret. She knew. The doctor knew. And that was all. For a while at least, the baby belonged solely to her. She switched off the engine and shuffled across to sit in the passenger seat. Her husband loved to drive. It wasn’t a macho thing, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her at the wheel, it was just that he enjoyed driving so much that she was happy to let 1

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Page 1: HARD LANDING FIRST CHAPTER · 2019-12-17 · That was something else that was going to change, she thought with a smile. Jonathon had promised, crossed his heart and promised, that

HARDLANDINGFIRSTCHAPTER

TrishElliottranherhandacrossherstomachforthehundredthtimesinceshe’d

leftthedoctor’ssurgery.Itdidn’tfeelasiftherewasanewlifegrowinginside

her,itwasfartooearlyforanymovementorkicks,fartoosoonforthebabytobe

makingitspresencefelt.ButTrishhadknown,knownattheverymomentthat

Jonathonhadcomeinsideher,thatthistime,afteryearsoftrying,shewas

pregnant.She’dboughtapregnancytestkittheverynextdaybutithadbeen

negative,andshe’dgoneoutthedayafterthatandithadalsobeennegative.But

Trishhadknown,deepdowninsideshe’dknown,andathirdpregnancytesthad

confirmedwhatherbodyhadbeentellingher.Shewaspregnant,atlast.

Shehadn’tsaidanythingtoherhusbandandshe’dleftitanothermonthuntil

she’dgonetoseeherdoctor,butnowtherewasnodoubt.Pregnant.She

whisperedthewordtoherselfassheparkedthecaratthesideoftheroad,

relishingthesoundofit.‘I’mpregnant,’shesaidsoftly.‘Iampregnant.Iam

havingababy.’Shewantedtorundownthestreetandtelleverybody,toshoutit

tothesky,tophoneeveryfriendandrelativeshehad.Butshealsoenjoyedthefact

theshehadsuchadelicioussecret.Sheknew.Thedoctorknew.Andthatwasall.

Forawhileatleast,thebabybelongedsolelytoher.

Sheswitchedofftheengineandshuffledacrosstositinthepassengerseat.Her

husbandlovedtodrive.Itwasn’tamachothing,itwasn’tthathedidn’ttrustherat

thewheel,itwasjustthatheenjoyeddrivingsomuchthatshewashappytolet

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himdoit.Trishthoughtthatshewasprobablythebetterdriverofthetwo.She

tookmorecare,followedtheHighwayCodereligiously,checkedhermirrors

constantly,andwasalwayshappytoletothermotoristsgetaheadofher.

Jonathon,wellJonathondrovelikeaman,therewasnogettingawayfromit.But

heenjoyeddrivingsoshesatinthepassengerseatandwaitedforhimtoleavethe

office.

Thatwassomethingelsethatwasgoingtochange,shethoughtwithasmile.

Jonathonhadpromised,crossedhisheartandpromised,thatwhentheyhada

familyhe’dgetadeskjob.Nomorelatenights,nomoreweeksawayfromhome,

nomoreputtinghislifeontheline.He’dpromised.He’dtakearegularjob,with

regularhours,andhe’dbethereforherwhensheneededhim.Someoneelsecould

taketherisks,someoneelsecouldgettheglory.He’dbeahusbandandfather.A

familyman.He’dpromisedandshewouldkeephimtoit.

Shesawherhusbandwalkingalongthepavementtowardsthecarandshe

waved.Jonathongotintothecarandgaveherakissonthecheek.Ashepulled

away,Trishslippedherhandaroundhisneckandpushedherlipsagainsthis,

kissinghimdeeply.Hekissedherback,withpassion,andslidhishanddownto

cupherbreast.

‘Thatwasnice,’hesaidasshefinallyreleasedhim.

‘Youdeserveit,’shesaid.

‘Forwhat?’Hestartedtheengineandrevvedtheacceleratorashealwaysdid,

boy-racerstyle.

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‘Forbeingsuchagoodhusband.’Shestrokedhisthighandsmiledtoherself.

Shewasn’tgoingtotellhimyet,notuntilthetimewasabsolutelyright.Thefood

wasintheboot,alltheingredientsforhisfavouritemeal.Andabottleofhis

favouritewine.She’donlyhaveasiptocelebrateandthatwouldbethelast

alcoholshe’dtouchuntilthebabywasborn.Shewasn’tgoingtodoanythingthat

wouldremotelyjeopardisethehealthofherchild.Theirchild.Thechildthey’d

beenwaitingforforalmostthreeyears.Theirdoctorhadinsistedthattherehad

beennomedicalreasonforherinabilitytoconceive.Shewasfine.Jonathonwas

fine.Therewasnoneedyetformedicalintervention,thedoctorhadsaid,theyjust

neededtokeeptrying.Theywerebothyoung,fitandhealthy.Jonathon’sjob

meantthathewasunderalotofstressmostofthetime,butotherthanthatallthey

neededwaslotsofsexandabitofgoodluck.They’dhadlotsofsexallright,

thoughtTrishwithasmile.Thesexhadalwaysbeengreat,fromthemoment

they’dmet.

‘Whatareyousmilingat?’askedJonathon,puttingthecaringearanddriving

awayfromthecurb.Hepushedhiswayintothetrafficwithoutindicating,waving

acarelessthankstoaBMWthathadtobrakesharplytolethimin.

‘Nothing,’shesaid.Shewantedtotellhimthereandthen,butshewanteditto

beperfect.Shewantedittobeamomentthatthey’dbothrememberforever.The

momentwhenshetoldhimthatshewaspregnant.Thattheywerepregnant.

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‘Comeon,comeon,’mutteredJonathon.Aheadofthemwasasetoftraffic

lights.Jonathongroanedastheyturnedred.‘Seethat?’hesaid.‘Nowwe’restuck

here.’

‘There’snorush,’shesaid,pattinghisthigh.Shelookedacrossatherhusband

andsmiled.Hewassogood-looking,shethought.Tall,broad-shouldered,anda

mopofblackhairthatkeptfallingacrosshisface.Perfectteeth.Atoothpaste

advertsmile.

Hegrinnedather.Shelovedhisgrin.Itwasthegrinofamischievous

schoolboythathadnevergrownup.‘Whatisit?’heasked.

‘What?’

‘You.You’resmilinglikethecatthatgotthecream.’

Shewantedtotellhim.God,shewantedtotellhim.Shewantedtograbhim

andkisshimandhughimandtellhimthathewasgoingtobeafather.Butshe

justsmiledandshookherhead.‘Nothing,’shesaid.

Alargeblackmotorcyclepulledupnexttothem.Thepillionpassengerleaned

downsothathecouldlookintothecar.Trishthoughtforamomentthathewanted

toaskdirections,thenshesawthegunandfrowned.Itwassounexpectedthatfor

afewsecondsitdidn’tregister.Thentimeseemedtostopdeadandsheeverything

clearly.Shesawthegun.Adullgreyautomaticinabrownglovedhand.The

pillionpassengerwearingabrightredfullfacehelmetwithanblackvisor.The

driverwearingablackhelmet,hisvisoralsoimpenetrable.Menwithoutfaces.

Thedriverrevvedtheengine.Thepassengerheldthegunwithbothhands.

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JonathonwasstilllookingatTrish,butasherfrowndeepenedhestartedtoturn,to

seewhatitwasthatshe’dseen.Ashemoved,thegunkickedandthewindow

explodedandcubesofglasssplatteredacrossTrish’sface.

TheexplosionwassoloudthatitdeafenedTrishandshefeltratherthanheard

thenexttwoshots.Herfacewaswetandshethoughtthatshe’dbeencutbutthen

sherealiseditwasn’therbloodbutherhusband’s.Herfaceandchestweresoaked

withhisbloodandshestartedtoscreamashetoppledforwardontothesteering

wheel.

***

Therewereeightofthemintheminibus,allwearingblueoverallsandtraining

shoesandbaseballcapswiththelogoofthepestcontrolcompanyabovethepeak.

Astheminibusstoppedatthegateaboredsecurityguardwithaclipboardwaited

untilthedriverwounddownthewindowandthenpeeredattheplasticIDcard

clippedtohisoverallpocket.Hedidaheadcountandmadeanoteonhis

clipboard.

‘Nooneoffsicktonightthen?’Onabadnightthere’donlybefourinthesquad.

Eightwasafullcomplement,andwiththecompanybarelypayingabove

minimumwagetheywereusuallyatleastonemanshort.Nowomen.Thework

wasunpleasantandphysicallydemanding,andwhilesexdiscriminationlaws

meantthatwomencouldn’tberefusedajob,fewmadeitbeyondthefirstnight.

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‘Newblood,’saidthedriver.‘Stillkeen.’

Thesecurityguardshrugged.‘Yeah,Irememberkeen,’hesaidwearily.He

wasinhislatetwentiesbutlookedolderwithhairgreyingatthetemplesanda

spreadingwaistline.‘Okaygentlemen,holdyourIDcardswhereIcanseethem,

please.’

Themendidastheywereaskedandthesecurityguardshonehistorchatthe

cardsonebyone.Hewastoofarawaytocheckifthefacesofthemenmatched

thefacesonthecards,butevenifhehadcheckedhewouldhaveseennothing

wrong.AlotoftimehadbeenspenttomakesurethattheIDcardswerefaultless.

Thevanwasgenuine,asweretheoverallsandbaseballcaps.Theoriginal

occupantsofthevanwereintheirunderwearinadisusedfactoryineastLondon,

gaggedandboundandguardedbyanothermemberofthegang.Hewouldstay

withthemuntiltoldthatthejobwasdone.

Thefacesthatlookedbackatthesecurityguardhadtheboredresignationof

menabouttostarteighthoursoftediousnightwork.ThreewereWestIndian,

includingthedriver.Therestwerewhite,allofthemagedunderforty.Oneofthe

youngestyawned,showingamouthfulofbadteeth.

Thesecurityguardnoddedandsteppedbackfromtheminibus.Hewaved

acrossathiscolleagueandthewhitepolebarrierwithits‘STOP’signrosegently

up.Standingatthegatehouseweretwouniformedpolicemenwearingbullet-

proofvestsandcradlingblackHecklerandKochautomatics.Theywatchedthe

minibusdriveby,theirfingersinsidethetriggerguardsoftheirweapons.The

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drivergavethemafriendlywaveanddrovetowardsthewarehouses.Overheada

BritishAirways747swoopedlow,itslandinggeardown,wheelsreadytobiteinto

therunway,enginesroaringinthenightsky.

ThemanwithbadteethduckedinvoluntarilyandoneoftheWestIndians

laughedandslappedhimontheback.‘Don’tfuckaround,’saidthemansitting

nexttothedriver.Hewasawide-shoulderedmaninhislatethirtieswithsandy

brownhaircroppedclosetohisskull.Hiseyesscannedthedarknessbetweenthe

warehouses.Hewasn’texpectingtrouble,virtuallyallthesecuritywasatthe

perimeteroftheairport.

Intherearoftheminibus,themenbeganpullingsportsbagsfromundertheir

seats.

‘Right,finalnamecheck,’saidthefrontseatpassenger.HisnamewasTed

Verityandhe’dbeenplanningtherobberyforthebestpartofthreemonths.

‘Archie,’hesaid.Heopenedtheglovecompartmentandtookoutaportable

scanner.Heswitcheditonandclippedittohisbelt.

‘Bert,’saidthemandirectlybehindVerity.HisrealnamewasJeffOwenand

he’dworkedwithVerityonmorethanadozenrobberies.OwenpulledaFairy

liquidbottleoutofhissportsbag.Hesniffedthetopandwrinkledhistwice-

brokennose.

Veritytookasecondscannerfromtheglovecompartment,switcheditonand

placeditonthedashboard.

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‘Charlie,’saidthemannexttoOwen.HewasBobMacdonald,aformer

squaddiewho’dbeenkickedoutofthearmyforbullying.Veritydidn’tknow

Macdonaldwell,butOwenhadvouchedforhimandVeritytrustedOwenwithhis

life.Macdonaldpulledasawn-offshotgunfromhisholdallandslottedared

cartridgeintothebreech.

‘Doug,’saidthemannexttoMacdonald.Heshovedaclipintothebuttofa

handgunandpulledbacktheslider.HewastheyoungestoftheWestIndians,a

careercriminalwho’dgraduatedfromcartheftandprotectionracketstoarmed

robberyafterhe’ddoneasix-monthstretchinBrixtonprison.That’swhereVerity

hadmethimandspottedhispotential.

Thealphabeticalroll-callcontinued.AtoH.Theyoungguywiththebadteeth

wasEddie.Hehadarevolverinhisrightglovedhandandastunguninhisleft.

Eddiepressedthetriggerofthestungunandbluesparkscrackledbetweentwo

metalprongs.Thehighvoltagechargewasenoughtodisableamanwithout

causingpermanentinjury.ThetalllankyWestIndiannexttoEddiewasFred.He

hadatwin-barrelledsawn-offshotgun.Sittingonhisowninthebackcradlinga

pump-actionshotgunwasathirty-somethingGlaswegianwithashavedheadand

footballtattooshiddenbyhisoverallsleeves.HewasGeorgeandhehadan

annoyinghabitofcrackinghisknuckles.

TheWestIndiandriverwasHarry.Veritydidn’tknowwhatHarry’srealname

was.He’dknownthemanforfiveyearsandworkedwithhimonadozenjobsbut

hadonlyeverknownhimbyhisinitials,PJ.Hewasoneofthebestdriversin

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LondonandclaimedtohaveoncebeenEltonJohn’spersonalchauffeur.Verity

noddedatP.J.andhebroughttheminibustoahalt.

‘Anyoneusesanynameotherthantheonesyou’vebeengivenandI’ll

personallyblowtheirheadoff,’saidVerity,turningaroundinhisseat.

‘RightTed,’calledGeorgefromthebackoftheminibus,thenheslappedhis

foreheadtheatrically.‘Shit,Iforgotalready.’

‘Veryfunny,’saidVerity.Hepulledasawn-offshotgunoutofhisbagand

flickedoffthesafety.‘Remember,wegoinhard;heartsandminds.Don’tgive

themtimetothink.Theysoundthealarmandwe’vegotlessthansixminutes

beforethebluesandtwosarriveandwe’reuptoourarsesinHecklers.Everybody

set?’

Thesixmeninthebacknodded.

‘Maskson,’saidVerity.

Thementookofftheirbaseballcapsandpulledonblackskimaskswithholes

foreyesandmouths.VeritynoddedatP.J.andtheWestIndiandroveforward.

Verity’sheartraced.Nomatterhowmanyjobshedid,nomatterhowmanytimes

he’dpiledinwithagun,thefearandexcitementalwayscoursedthroughhimlike

electricity.Nothingcomparedwiththehighofanarmedrobbery.Notevensex.

Allhissenseswereintensifiedasifhiswholebodyhadgoneintooverdrive.

Veritypulledonhisownmask.Heconnectedanearphonetothescannerand

slippedtheearpieceunderhismaskandintohisleftear.Juststatic.

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P.J.turnedsharplytotherightandpulledupinfrontofthewarehouse.Verity

swungopenthedoorandjumpeddown,keepingthesawn-offclosetohisbody.

Theearpiecebuzzed.Asuspiciouspassengerinthearrivalsterminal.AnIC6

male.AnArab.Good,thoughtVerity,anythingthatdrewattentionawayfromthe

commercialareaoftheairportwasaGodsend.

Owenpulledbackthesidedoorandjumpedoutoftheminibus.Hehada

revolverstickinginthebeltofhisoveralls.Therestoftheteampiledoutand

rushedovertotheentrancetothewarehouse.Therewasalargeloadingareawith

spaceforthreetrucksbutthemetalshuttersweredown.Totherightoftheloading

baywasametaldoor.Themenstoodeithersideofthedoor,weaponsatthe

ready.

Veritywalkeduptothedoorandputhisglovedhandonthehandle.Thedoor

wasneverlocked,evenatnight.Thereweremenworkinginthewarehousetwenty

fourhoursaday,thoughtherewasonlyaskeletonstaffatnight.Fourmenat

most.Twoforklifttruckdrivers,asecurityguardandawarehouseman.Four

unarmedmeninchargeofawarehousecontainingthebestpartoftwentymillion

poundsworthofgoods.Veritysmiledtohimself.Liketakingcandyfromababy.

Veritypulledopenthedoorandrushedin,holdinghisshotgunhigh.Tothe

rightofthedoorwasasmallofficecontainingthreedesksandwall-to-wall

shelvingfiledwithcardboardfiles.Auniformedsecurityofficerwassittingatone

ofthedesks,readinganewspaper.Veritylevelledhisshotgunatthemanand

motionedwithitforthemantostandup.Asthemangottohisfeet,Eddierushed

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byVerityandpressedtheprongsofthestungunagainsttheguard’sneckand

pressedthetrigger.Theguardwentintospasmandslumpedtothefloor.Eddie

caughthimashefellanddraggedhimbehindtheofficedoor.Hetookarollof

ducttapefromhisoverallpocketandusedittobindtheman’shandsandfeetas

therestofthemenfannedout,movingthroughthewarehouse.Itwasabouthalf

thesizeofafootballpitchwithcartonsofcardboardboxespiledhighonwooden

pallets.Mostoftheboxesweremarked‘Fragile’andcamefromtheFarEast.

Japan.Korea.HongKong.

AnorangeforklifttruckreversedaroundastackofboxesandDougranuptoit

andjammedhispistolagainsttheneckoftheoperator,amiddle-agedmanin

whiteoveralls.Douggrabbedtheman’scollarandpulledhimfromthevehicle,

thenclubbedhimacrosstheheadwiththegun.

Veritycouldhearthesecondforklifttruckwhininginthedistanceandhe

pointedinthedirectionofthesound.FredandtheGlaswegianranoff,their

trainingshoesmakingdullthudsontheconcretefloor.

Dougrolledtheforklifttruckdriverontohisfrontandwoundducttapearound

hismouthbeforebindinghisarms.

VeritymotionedatMacdonaldandOwentostartmovingthroughthestacked

pallets.Theywerelookingforthewarehouseman.

Thethreemenmovedsilentlythroughthewarehouse,theirweaponsatthe

ready.Macdonaldlookedathiswatch.‘Plentyoftime,’whisperedVerity.

‘Radio’squiet.’

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Thesecondforklifttruckstopped,andtherewasabumpingsoundinthe

distanceasifsomethingsofthadhitthegroundhard.Thensilence.

Thethreemenstoppedandlistened.Offtotheirrighttheyheardasoft

whistling.Veritypointedandtheyheadedtowardsthenoise.

Thewarehousemanwasinhisearlythirtieswithrecedinghairandwire-framed

glasses.Hewasholdingapalmcomputerandmakingnoteswithasmallstylusas

hewhistledtohimself.Hewassoengrossedinthetinycomputerthathedidn’t

seethethreemaskedmenuntiltheywerealmostuponhim.Hisjawdroppedand

hetookhalfastepbackwards,thenVerityjammedhisshotgunintheman’s

stomach.‘Don’tsayaword,’hissedVerity.‘Doasyou’retoldandwe’llbeoutof

hereinafewminutes.’

Hegrabbedattheman’scollarwithhislefthand,swunghimaroundsothathe

wasfacinginthedirectionoftheoffice,thenfrog-marchedhimwiththeshotgun

pressedintothebaseofhisspine.‘There’snom-m-moneyhere,’theman

stammered.

‘Isaiddon’ttalk,’saidVerity.Herammedtheshotgunbarrelintotheman’s

backforemphasis.

Whentheyreachedtheofficethetwoforklifttruckdriverswerelyingonthe

groundoutsidethedoor,gaggedandboundwithgreyducttape.Owenwas

standingoverthem,hisguninonehand,theFairyLiquidbottleintheother.

Veritypushedthewarehousemantothefloornexttothetwoforklifttruck

drivers.Themanrolledontohisbackandhisglassesfelloff,clatteringonthe

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concrete.Veritypointedhisshogunatthewarehouseman.‘TheIntelchips,’he

saidthroughgrittedteeth.‘TheonesthatcameinfromtheStatesthismorning.’

Voicesbuzzedinhisearpiece.APoliceNationalComputercheckontheArab.A

name,dateofbirth.Nationality.Iraqi.‘Bastardragheads,’mutteredVerity.

‘What?’saidthewarehouseman,totallyconfused.Hegropedforhisspectacles

withhisrighthand.

VeritynoddedatOwen.OwensqueezedtheFairyLiquidbottleandsprayedthe

contentsoverthethreemen.Macdonaldfrownedasherecognisedthesmell.

Petrol.Theforklifttruckdriversbuckedandkickedbutthewarehousemanjust

layonthefloorinshock,hishandclutchinghisspectacles.

Owenemptiedtheplasticbottle,thentossedittotheside.Hetookagunmetal

Zippofromthepocketofhisoverallsandflickeditopen.‘Youheardwhatthe

mansaid,nowwherearethechips?’Hespanthewheelofthelighterwithhis

thumbandwavedatwo-inchsmokeyflameoverthethreemen.

‘Archie,whatthehell’sgoingon?’shoutedMacdonald,takingasteptowards

Verity.‘Noonesaidweweregoingtosetfiretoanyone.’

‘You’vegotashotguninyourhands,thisisnodifferent.’

‘Haveyouseenwhatthirddegreeburnslooklike?’

VerityturnedandlevelledhisshotgunatMacdonald’slegs.‘Haveyouseen

whatakneecappinglookslike?’

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Macdonaldraisedthebarrelofhisshotgunskywards,showingthathewasn’ta

threat.‘JustwishedI’dbeenfullybriefed,that’sall.’Heshrugged.‘You’reright.

Inforapenny...’

Thewarehousemanscrabbledonhisback,awayfromOwen.Owenfollowed

him,bendingdowntowavetheflamingZippoclosertohislegs.The

warehousemanbackedagainstthewalloftheoffice,hishandsupinfrontofhis

face.‘I’mnotsurehowcloseIcangetbeforeyougoupinflames,’saidOwen.

‘TheIntelchips,’hehissedatthewarehouseman.‘Wherearethey?’

‘I’llhavetocheckthecomputer,’stammeredthewarehouseman.Adarkstain

spreaddownhislefttrouserleg.

OwenclickedtheZipposhut,grabbedthewarehousemanbythescruffofthe

neckanddraggedhimovertotheofficedoor.Verityfollowed.Theearpiece

buzzedandcrackled.There’dbeenacarcrashoutsidethedeparturesterminal.

Twominicabshadcollidedandthedrivershadstartedfighting.Veritysmiled

underhisskimask.Themoredistractions,thebetter.

Eddiethrewthewarehousemanintotheoffice.OwnsnappedtheZipposhut.

‘You’vegottenseconds,thenit’sbarbecuetime,’hesnarled.Hegrabbedthe

warehousemanandpushedhimdownontoaswivelchair.

Thewarehouseman’shandstrembledoverthekeyboard.‘Ihavetothink,’he

said.‘I’monlythen-n-nightman.’

‘Thinkaboutthis,’saidOwen,lightingtheZippoagainandwavingtheflame

closetotheman’sface.

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Thewarehousemanshrieked.‘Okay,okay,wait!’heshouted,stabbingatthe

keyboard.‘I’vegotit.’Hewipedhissweatingforeheadwiththearmofhiscoat.

‘RowG.SectionSix.Twelveb-b-boxes.’

Verityturnedtotheofficedoor.‘Fred,Doug!’hecalled.‘RowG.SectionSix.’

Theearpiecebuzzed.DespitethecleanPNCcheck,theArabwasbeingtakeninto

custody.

OwenclosedtheZippoandusedducttapetotiethewarehousemantothechair.

‘Id-d-didwhatyouwanted,d-d-didn’tI?’askedthewarehousemanfearfully.

Owenslappedapieceoftapeacrosstheman’smouth.

VeritypointedatOwen.‘TellP.J.togettheminibusready,’hesaid,then

joggedtowardsRowG.

‘I’lldoit,’saidMacdonald.

Veritystoppedinhistracks.HepointedaglovedfingeratMacdonald.‘Isaid

him.IfI’dwantedyoutodoitI’dhavetoldyou.’HepointedatOwen.‘Doit!’he

shouted.ThenhepointedatMacdonald.‘YoustaywithmewhereIcankeepmy

eyeonyou.’Verityjoggeddownthecentreaisle.MacdonaldandtheGlaswegian

followedhimwhileOwenrantowardsthefrontdoor.

Dougwasalreadysittingatthecontrolsofaforklifttruck.‘Heretheyare,’

shoutedFred,gesturingatapalletloadedwithcardboardboxes.

‘Comeon,getthemloadedandlet’sgetoutofhere!’shoutedVerity.The

boxescontainedthelatestPentiumchipsfromtheStates.AccordingtoVerity’s

15

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manontheWestCoast,thereweretwenty-fourboxesintheshipmentworth

almostamillionpounds,wholesale.

Inthedistance,themetaldoorslammed.Theyallturnedatthesoundof

runningfeet.VerityandMacdonaldranintothemainaisleandsawOwen

hurtlingtowardsthem.‘Cops!’yelledOwen.‘There’scopseverywhere!’

Veritywhirledaround.‘What?’

‘They’vegotP.J.There’sarmedcopsallovertheplace.’

Verity’shanddroppedtowardshisscanner.Hecheckedthefrequencyandthe

volume.Everythingwasasitshouldbe.‘Theycan’tbe,’heshouted.

‘Theymusthavehitasilentalarm,’shoutedOwen.

Verityrantowardstheoffice,whereEddiewasstandingwithbothhandsonhis

pistol.‘Whatdowedo?’shoutedEddie.

Veritygesturedatthemetaldoor.Therewereboltstopandbottom.‘Lockit,’

hesaid.Eddieranoverandslidthebolts,thenduckedaway.Therewereno

windowsinthewarehousestructure,nowayofseeingwhatwasgoingonoutside.

Owenwaspantinghard.VerityputahandonOwen’sshoulder.‘Howmany?’he

asked.

‘Shit,Idon’tknow.Theywereallovertheminibus.Threeunmarkedcars.A

dozencops,maybe.Ididn’thangaroundtocount.’

Verityrushedintotheofficeandslappedthewarehousemanacrosstheface,the

rippedthetapeawayfromhismouth.‘Didyoutripanalarm?’heasked.

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Thewarehousemanwasshaking.‘Howc-c-couldI?’hestammered.‘Youwere

w-w-watchingmeallthetime.Youknowyouwere.’

‘Whatarewegoingtodo?’askedEddie.

‘Shutthefuckupandletmethink,’saidVerity.

‘There’snothingwecando,’saidMacdonald.‘Ifthecopsareoutside,it’sall

over.’

VerityignoredhimandturnedtoOwen.‘YousaidtheyhadP.J?’

‘Hewasbentoverthebonnetofoneofthecars,oneofthecopswas

handcuffinghim.’

‘Didtheyseeyou?’

Owennodded.

‘Theminibuswasstillthere?’

Owennoddedagain.

‘Okay,’saidVerity.Ifthecopsknewthatthey’dbeenseenthentheyhadonly

seconds.Hegesturedwithhisshotgunatthetwomenonthefloor.‘Freetheir

legs,’hesaid.‘Anduntiethetwatinthechair.They’reourticketoutofhere.’

Eddierushedintotheoffice.FredandtheGlaswegianbentdownandripped

theducttapeawayfromthelegsoftheforklifttruckdrivers.

Veritystoodcradlinghisshotgunashestaredattheboltedmetaldoor.Ifthe

copsknewthattheywerearmed,theywouldn’tcomestormingin.Andifthey

wentoutwithhostages,thepolicewouldn’tbeabletoshoot.Veritytriedto

visualisethegeographyaroundthewarehouse.Sofarashecouldrecall,there

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werenovantagepointsforsnipers,nohighgroundfromwheretheycouldbe

pickedoff.Itwouldallbeupcloseandpersonal,andthatmeantthecopswouldn’t

beabletofirewithoutriskingthehostages.Buttheyhadtomovequickly.‘Come

on,comeon!’heshouted.

Eddiepushedthewarehousemanoutoftheoffice.‘Thesecurityguard’sstill

outcold,’hesaid.

‘Three’senough,’saidVerity.

‘Enoughforwhat?’askedMacdonald.

‘Togetusoutofhere,’saidVerity.Hewentovertothewarehouseman.‘Give

metheducttape,’saidVerity,holdingouthishandtoOwen.Owentossedhim

therolloftape.ThewarehousemantriedtospeakputVeritypushedthebarrelof

theshotgununderhisnoseandtoldhimtoshutup.‘George,comeoverhere.’

TheGlaswegianstoodupandwalkedovertoVerity.‘Putyourshotgunagainst

thebackofhisneck.’TheGlaswegiandidashewastold,andVeritywoundduct

tapearoundtheweaponandaroundthewarehouseman’sneck.

‘Youusehimlikethatandit’skidnapping,’saidMacdonald.‘Shoothimand

it’scold-bloodedmurder.’

‘Ifthecopsletusgo,noone’llgethurt,’saidVerity.HenoddedatFred.‘Do

thesamewithhim,’gesturingattheforkliftdriver.TheWestIndianhauledthe

mantohisfeetandstartedfasteninghissawnoffshotguntotheman’sneckwith

tape.

‘Theywon’tletyouwalkoutofhere,’saidMacdonald.‘Evenwithhostages.’

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‘Armedrobberywillgetustwelveyears,maybefifteen,’saidVerity.‘Ifagun

goesoffandoneofthesesadfucksgetsit,it’llbemanslaughter.Tentotwelve.

We’vegotnothingtolose.’

‘TedVerity,Iknowyoucanhearme,’saidavoice.Veritywhirledaroundin

surprise,thenrealisedthatthevoicehadcomethroughtheearpieceofthescanner.

Itwasbeingbroadcastonthepolicefrequency.‘Thisisthepolice.It’soverTed,

comeoutnowbeforethisgetsoutofhand.’

VerityroaredandranovertotheforklifttruckdriverthatFredwastyingup.

Heslammedhisshotgunagainsttheforklifttruckdriver’schin,thenkickedhim

betweenthelegs,hard.ThemanfellbackandVerityhithimagainashewent

down.

MacdonaldgrabbedVerity’sarmandpulledhimaway.‘Whatthehell’sgot

intoyou?’shoutedMacdonald.

Verityshookhimoff.Theearpiecebuzzedagain.‘There’sarmedpoliceout

here,Ted.There’snowhereforyoutogo.Leaveyourweaponswheretheyare

andcomeoutwithyourhandsintheair.Ifwehavetocomeinandgetyou,people

aregoingtogethurt.’

Atelephonebegantoringintheoffice.

‘Answerthephone,Ted,’saidthevoiceinVerity’sear.

‘It’sthecops,’saidtheGlaswegian.‘They’llbewantingtotalktous.’

EddiehurriedovertoVerity.

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‘They’vealreadytalkedtous,’saidVerity.Heslappedthescanneronhisbelt.

‘Ontheradio.’

‘Howdidtheyknowwehadascanner?’askedEddie,hisfacejustinchesaway

fromVerity’s.Veritycouldsmellgarlicontheman’sbreath.

‘Theykneweverything,’saidVerity.‘We’vebeensetup.’Hesworeandthen

pushedEddieinthechest.‘Getthefuckawayfromme!’hesaid.

‘It’sover,’saidMacdonald.HeturnedtotheGlaswegian,lookingforhis

support.TheGlaswegianshruggedbutsaidnothing.‘Ifwegooutwithhostages,

they’llthrowawaythekey,’saidMacdonald.TheGlaswegian’sfingerwasonthe

triggeroftheshotgun.Mostofthebarrelwascoveredwithducttape,bindingitto

thebackofthewarehouseman’sneck.Themanwastremblingandthepieceof

ducttapeacrosshismouthpulsedinandoutashebreathed.

‘There’llthrowawaythekeyformeanyway,’saidtheGlaswegian.‘Onelook

atmyrecord.’Hejabbedtheshotgunagainstthewarehouseman’sneck.‘Let’s

justdowhatwe’vegottodo.’

Macdonaldgroanedandshookhishead.HenoddedatOwen.‘Jeff,helpme

outonthis.Thismadbastard’sgonnagetusallkilled.’

‘Nonames!’screamedVerity,brandishinghisshotgun.‘Nofuckingnames!’

‘Ted,’saidMacdonaldcalmly.‘Themknowingwhoweareistheleastofour

problems.’

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‘He’sright,’saidDoug.‘Ifthecopsareoutsidethenit’sthankyouandgood

night.’Hegesturedatthedoorwithhishandgun.‘Thispeashooter’sgonnadome

nogoodagainstpigswithheavyartillery.’

‘We’renotgonnashootatthem,’shoutedVerity.‘Allwe’regonnadoistotell

themiftheytrytostopus,thehostagesgetit.Look,theminibusisoutthere.P.J.

isthere.Ifwemovenow,wecanstillgetoutofhere.Ifwekeepyappingthey’ll

befiringteargasandGodknowswhatelseinhere.’

Thephonestoppedringing.FredwenttostandbyDoug.TheGlaswegian

pulledthewarehousemanbacksothathewasclosertoVerity.Battlelineswere

beingdrawn.OwencursedandmovedovertoVerity,hissawn-offshotgunatthe

ready.HegesturedwithhischinforMacdonaldtojoinhimbutMacdonaldshook

hishead.

‘Eddie,’saidVerity.‘Getthehelloverhere.’

EddielookedacrossatthetwoWestIndians,thenatVerity.‘Ididn’tsignup

forashoot-out,’hesaid.‘Inandout,yousaid.’

‘Eddie,getoverhereorI’llshootyoumyself.’Eddiegrittedhisteeth.Verity

levelledhisshotgunatEddie’sgroin.‘IsweartoGod,’saidVerity.‘Getyour

fuckingarseoverhere.’

TearswelledupinEddie’seyesbuthedidashewastold.

‘Answerthephone,Ted,’saidthevoiceinVerity’sear.‘Whatwe’vegottosay

isbettersaidoverasecureline,right?Don’tyouagree?’

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Verityrippedtheearpiecefromhisearandpointedattheforklifttruckdriver

onthefloor.‘Getashotguntapedtohisneck,now,’heshoutedatOwen,keeping

hisownweaponaimedinthedirectionoftheWestIndians.

Owengrabbedtherollofducttapeandpulledtheinjuredmantohisfeet.

‘Givemeahand,’hesaidtoEddie.

‘Ifyou’regoingtogothroughwiththis,I’moutofhere,’saidDoug.

‘You’renotgoinganywhere,’saidVerity.

‘Thisain’tnothreemusketeerthing,’saidDoug.‘Youdowhatyou’vegotto

do,butI’mwalkingoutnow.’

‘I’mwithhim,’saidFred,shiftinghisweightfromfoottofoot.

Thetelephonestartedtoringagain.

‘We’regoingouttheretogether,’saidVerity.

Eddiebeganwindingtapearoundtheforklifttruckdriver’sneck.

‘They’renotgoingtoletyoudriveaway,’saidMacdonald.

‘Theywon’thaveachoice,’saidVerity.‘Whataretheygoingtodo?Shootat

uswhilewe’vegottheseguysbytheshortandcurlies?’

‘Andwhatareyougogoingtodowhentheysaythere’snodeal?’said

Macdonald.‘Blowtheheadsoffcivilians?

‘They’lldeal,’saidVerity.

‘Ifthat’swhatyouthinkthenyoudon’tknowthecops.’

‘Doyou?’yelledVerity.‘Isthathowtheyknewwewerehere?Didyougrass

usup?’

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‘Screwyou,Verity,’saidMacdonald.‘Idon’tneedthisshit.’

VeritypointedhisshotgunatMacdonald’smidriffandhisfingertightenedon

histrigger.Macdonaldswunghisownshotgunupsothatitwaslevelledat

Verity’sstomach.

‘Guys,forfuck’ssake!’shoutedOwen.‘We’reonthesamesidehere!’

‘We’reinthistogether,’saidVerity.‘Ifwesplitupnow,it’sover.’

‘It’soveranyway!’shoutedMacdonald.‘Youjustdon’tseeit.’

‘Bob,we’redamnedifwedoandwe’redamnedifwedon’t,’saidOwen.

MacdonaldsnarledatOwen,thoughhekepthisweaponaimedatVerity.‘You

toldmethiswasastraightrobbery,’hesaid.‘Inandoutbeforeanyonewasthe

wiser,yousaid.Nowwe’retakinghostages.’

‘Thecopsaregoingtosaywetookhostagesanyway,’saidOwencalmly.

‘Soonaswetiedthemupwewereholdingthemagainsttheirwill.Look,Ibrought

youinonthisbecauseyouwereacoolhead.Don’tletmedownnow.’

Thephonestoppedringingagain.Outsidethewarehousetheyheardrapid

footsteps.Thensilence.

Macdonaldnoddedslowlyandloweredhisweapon.‘Okay,’hesaid.

VeritystaredatMacdonald,thennoddedcurtly,acknowledgingMacdonald’s

changeofheart.‘Checkthedoor,’Veritysaid.‘Don’topenit,justlisten.

Macdonaldwalkedtowardsthedoor.AshepassedVerity,Macdonaldturned

suddenlyandslammedthecut-downstockofhisshotgunintotheman’sstomach.

ThebreathexplodedfromVerity’slungsandhedoubledover.Macdonaldbrought

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thestockcrashingdownonthebackofVerity’sheadandVeritydroppedlikea

deadweight.

OwenstaredatMacdonaldinamazement.DougandFredcheered.The

Glaswegiantriedtoriphisshotgunawayfromthewarehouseman’sneckbutthe

ducttapeheldfirmandhecursed.Macdonaldswunghisshotguntowardsthe

Glaswegian.‘Don’teventhinkaboutit,Jock,’hesaid.

‘You’redead,’saidOwen.‘Whenhegetsholdofyou,you’llbewearingyour

ballsaroundyourneck.’

‘Ifwegoouttheretooledup,we’redeadanyway,’saidMacdonald.Hebacked

awayfromOwen.TheGlaswegianrippedhisshotgunfreewitharoar.Heaimedit

atMacdonaldasthewarehousemanslumpedtohisknees.

Macdonaldkeptbackingaway.‘I’venoproblemwithyou,Jock,’hesaid.‘Or

you,Jeff.Ijustwantoutofhere.’

Therewasaloudbangattheentranceandtheyalljumped.AstheGlaswegian

turnedtolookatthemetaldoor,Macdonaldsprinteddownthewarehouse.He

duckedbetweentwotoweringstacksofpallets,thenzigzaggedright,leftandright

again.Hedroppedtheshotgunandkickeditunderapallet,thensprintedtowards

therearofthewarehouse.Behindhimheheardthemetaldoorcrashopen

followedbythestaccatoshoutsofmenwhowereusedtotheirordersbeing

obeyed.‘ArmedPolice!Downonthefloor,now!Down,down,down!’

Macdonaldzigzaggedagain,andreachedthewarehousewall.Theemergency

exitwasatthemid-pointandMacdonaldrantowardsit.Fromthefrontofthe

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warehouseheheardasingleshotgunblast,thenaburstofautomaticfire,then

moreshouts.Hewonderedwhohadfired.Owenwastoomuchofaprotoshootat

armedpolice.ItwasprobablytheGlaswegian.Macdonaldhopedthathehadn’t

hitanybodyandthatthepolicehadbeenfiringwarningshots.Apumpaction

shotgunagainsthalfadozenHecklerswasnocontestatall.

Macdonaldkickedthemetalbarinthemiddleofthedooranditsprangopen.

Analarmsoundedoffinthedistance.Thedoorbouncedbackandheshouldered

hiswaythrough.

‘Armedpolice!’shoutedaCockneyaccent.‘Dropyourweapon!’

Macdonaldstoppeddeadandraisedhishandsintheair.‘I’mnotcarryinga

weapon,dipshit!’heshouted,thenstoodwherehewas,breathingheavily.

‘Downontheground,keepyourhandswherewecanseethem!’shoutedthe

officer.Hewasinhismidtwenties,dressedallinblackwithaKevlarvestanda

blackbaseballcapwithPOLICEwrittenacrossitinwhitecapitalletters.Hehad

hisHeckleraimedatMacdonald’schest.Thereweretwomorearmedofficers

behindhim,bothwiththeirgunsaimedatMacdonald.

‘Canwealljustrelaxhere,’saidMacdonald.Hetookoffhisskimaskand

staredsullenlyatthethreearmedpoliceman.‘Okaynow?’hesaid.Theylookedat

himwithgrimfaces.

‘Downonthefloor!’saidtheoldestofthethree,gesturingwithhisHeckler.

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‘Yeah,right,’saidMacdonald.‘Look,Idon’thavetimeforthis.’Hemovedto

walkbythem.TheCockneysworeathim,raisedhisweaponandslammedthebutt

againstthesideoftheMacdonald’shead.Macdonaldwentdownwithoutasound.

***

Macdonaldcametolyingonhisback,staringupatamaninawhitemaskwearing

adarkgreenanorak.HewasshiningasmallflashlightintoMacdonald’slefteye.

Macdonaldgroaned.Heheardthewailofasirenandrealisedthathewasinan

ambulance.Hegroanedagain.Hetriedtositupbuttheparamedicputahandin

themiddleofhischestandpushedhimbackdown.‘Liestill,you’vehadanasty

bangonthehead.’

‘Hehitme,’saidMacdonald.‘Whythehelldidhehitme?’

‘Becauseyouwereresistingarrest,youtwat,’saidaCockneyvoice.

Macdonaldtriedtositupagain.

‘Really,Sir,Iwouldn’t,’saidtheparamedic,pushinghimbackdown.‘There’s

agoodchanceofconcussion.We’regoingtohavetogiveyouascan.’

Macdonaldtriedtopushtheparamedicawaybuthisarmwouldn’tmovemore

thanafewinches.Helookeddown.Hiswristwashandcuffedtothemetalbarof

thecothewaslyingon.Hetriedtoraisehisotherhand.Thatwascuffed,too.The

copwho’dhithimwassittingnexttothecot,hisHecklercradledinhislap.He

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hadalongfacewithdeep-seteyesandhe’dturnedthebaseballcaparoundsothat

thepeakwasattheback.‘Ishouldhavehityouharder,’hesaid.

‘Whatthehell’sgoingon?’askedMacdonald,groggily.

‘Yourmateshotoneofours,’saidthecop.‘You’reallgoingdownfor

attemptedmurderontopofarmedrobbery.’

‘He’sokay?’

‘Yourmate?Tookoneinthearm.He’lllive.’

‘Screwhim,healmostgotuskilled.Thecopwhowasshot.Isheokay?’

‘Nowyou’reworried,aren’tyou?’ThecopslappedhisKevlarvest.‘Vesttook

mostoftheshot,bitofdamagetohislowerjaw.Buttheintentwasthereand

you’reallinittogether.’

Macdonaldlaybackandstaredupattheroofoftheambulance.Theywere

movingatspeed,thesirenstillwailing,buthecouldtellthathewasn’thurttoo

badly.He’dbeenhitbefore,byexperts,andthebuttoftheHecklerhadn’tdone

anyseriousdamage.WhatworriedMacdonaldwaswhythejobhadgonesobadly

wrong.

TOBECONTINUED……

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