sigh of relief as the board slid out past the drain pipe. He handed it to Grant who propped it up at the side of the cupboard. Dewar started to feel his way round the cavity at the back of the pipes. For one awful moment he thought there was nothing there but then his hand met a plastic wrapped package and he gripped it gently and pulled it out slowly. He could not have been more careful had it contained unstable nitro-glycerine.
‘Is that what you were after?’ asked Grant as Dewar turned to sit on the floor and shine his torch on the wrapping. He could see through the clear plastic that it contained about fifteen of the vials he’d first seen at the Hannans’ flat.
‘It’s them, all right,’ said Dewar. ‘We’ve got them back.’
‘Good. Let’s get out of here.’
Dewar put the board back behind the pipes and loaded the vials carefully into the metal paramedic equipment case he’d brought up from the ambulance. He used surgical dressing material to add extra padding and make sure they were well protected from any vibration or buffeting they were liable to encounter.
‘All ready,’ he said.
Dewar walked out on to the gangway and paused to look over the guard rail while Grant locked up the flat. Things still seemed very quiet. He could see the Great Bear in the clear northern sky and he could see the ambulance far below with the small figure of the boy standing beside it. Despite the fact that the boy was the only other living soul in evidence, he still had the uneasy feeling that their every move was being watched.
‘Like clockwork,’ said Grant enthusiastically as they made their way along to the lifts. ‘God, I wish all operations went like this. If I had a quid for every cock-up I’d been out on I’d be a rich man.’
Dewar wasn’t ready to relax just yet and Grant sensed the tension in him. Neither man spoke as they descended in the lift. Dewar watched the floor indicator, Grant read the graffiti which covered every inch of wall space despite the use of corrugated metal in an attempt to prevent this. The doors slid open and they stepped out into what appeared to be a deserted hallway. They had almost reached the front doors when several figures suddenly emerged from the darkness to surround them.
‘Haven’t you guys forgotten something?’ asked a swarthy, thickset man with greasy brushed-back black hair and a slight speech impediment which introduced a sibilant hiss to his voice. ‘A patient, maybe?’
‘Hoax call,’ said Dewar, gathering his wits quickly. ‘Happens all the time. Kids I suppose. Pain in the bloody arse. Don’t their parents teach them anything these days?’
‘Little buggers,’ added Grant.
‘But you went in to one of the flats. You were in there quite a long time,’ said the soft hissing voice.
They had been watched, thought Dewar. They were in real trouble. ‘We have to do that sometimes,’ he said. The caller was specific about the flat number so we had to check it out just in case someone was lying there unconscious or unable to get to the door.’
‘Are you telling us they give you pass keys these days?’ asked the man who was doing all the talking. His voice held a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
Dewar didn’t like the man. His voice was a bit too even, a bit too controlled, intelligent and in his opinion, belonged to someone who was downright evil.
‘If they’re council flats,’ said Grant, also thinking quickly and taking over. ‘It’s a council initiative; there are simply so many old people living on their own these days.’
‘Bullshit!’ snapped the man with the hissing voice.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Bullshit,’ repeated hissing voice but he sounded even and controlled again. ‘You’re coppers. I’ve seen you before.’ He moved round to take a better look at them. ‘Grant, isn’t it? Inspector bloody Grant.’
‘You’re mistaken,’ growled Grant. ‘Now just stand aside and we’ll be on our way. We’ve got more to do than stand around here all day.’
‘Hold it!’
Three men moved in front of Dewar and Grant to bar their way.
‘Now what would the polis be wantin’ in Mike Kelly’s flat, d’you reckon, guys?’ continued the ring leader. ‘It would have to be something important enough for them to dress up for … ‘Naughty substances maybe? We’d have to be talking a substantial amount if they put a police inspector into fancy dress for it … Or was that your idea, Grant? Fancied some glory? Fancied seeing your name in the papers. “Police undercover squad in major drugs snatch”? I think we’d better have a wee look in that case you’re carrying pal …‘
As one of the men stepped forward to take the case from Dewar, Grant moved in between. ‘All right, I am the law and you are interfering with the police in the execution of their duty. Stand aside or I’ll do the lot of you for obstruction.’
‘My my, we are in trouble,’ said the hissing voice to the amusement of the others, then more harshly, ‘Right now you don’t mean jack-shit in this neck of the woods any more, Grant. Hand over the case!.’
Dewar knew there was no question of tacitly handing over the virus. The chips were down. It was five against two but there was no choice in the matter. In the event, it was Grant who opened the proceedings. He had been holding the stretcher in a vertical position while they spoke. Now he suddenly slid his hands down to the bottom and swung it round in a scything arc to catch two of the opposition in the face before they could move out the road.
Adrenaline flowed in a violent flurry of swinging feet and fists. Dewar was forced to put his careful packing of the vials to the test by using the metal case as a two handed battering ram to break through the two man barrier in front of him. For a moment there was nothing between him and the doors as the two fell like skittles.
‘Go!’ shouted Grant. ‘Get the fuck out of here!’ He threw Dewar the keys to the ambulance. Dewar caught them one-handed.
Dewar hesitated but only for a second. Grant was right. He had to get the virus out of this place but he hated to leave Grant on his own. He forced his way out through the glass doors, opening them with his shoulder as he held the case close to his body with both hands to avoid contact with the glass or precipitate any kind of fumble. He sprinted across the tarmac apron to the ambulance, knowing that there were running feet behind him but not turning to look as it would only slow him down.
He tried to unlock the door with fingers that had suddenly become all thumbs as haste cancelled dexterity. He finally found the right key and had succeeded in half pulling the door open when the boy who’d been guarding the vehicle cried out, ‘Behind you, mister!’
Dewar instinctively dropped to the ground and the body of the man pursuing him crashed straight over him slamming the door shut with his momentum as he fought to regain balance. Dewar got to his feet first and swung his fist several times into the body of the man, hoping to disable him before he could recover but recover he did in a testament to formidable strength. He suddenly whipped his ham-like fist back-handedly across Dewar’s face sending him to the ground with pain exploding inside his head like a starshell. Dewar just managed to get out of the way of the follow-up kick and get to his feet. There was little or no time to get his breath however as his opponent came hurtling in again to grab him in a vice-like grip and send both of them back to the ground.
Dewar felt the man’s hands grip his throat, obliging him to grasp his attacker’s wrists in a desperate attempt to free himself. To his dismay he found the man’s grip too strong to break. The pressure on his throat was increasing despite him using all his strength to force his hands apart. He had to concede there was no use in continuing with this and went for a desperate gamble. He let go the man’s wrists and sought out his fingers.
Despite the sudden increase in pressure on his throat, that he’d anticipated and which threatened him with unconsciousness he managed to find his attacker’s little fingers and succeeded in getting real purchase on one of them. Focusing all his remaining strength, he bent it violently backwards against the joint as hard as he could and heard it snap. The man let out a scream of pain and let go of Dewar’s throat.
Dewar took in a huge lungful of night air. He knew he only had as long as the man was concentrating on his broken finger to take the initiative. He rolled over on the ground and sprang to his feet to aim a vicious kick at the man’s head. Right now the human consequences didn’t matter. This was a fight he had to win. The man tried to duck but Dewar’s foot still connected with his cheek bone and it shattered under the blow. The man slumped into unconsciousness, suddenly no longer a problem.
Dewar looked up to see another of the men starting to run out from the flats. He recovered the metal case from where he’d left it at the side of the vehicle and got into the cab to turn the key. He revved the engine hard and flung the gear stick forward into first but froze with his foot on the clutch. He knew exactly what he had to do. His clear priority was to get the virus out of this God-forsaken hell hole and into safe hands as quickly as possible but
