‘Did you throw up the first few times?’
Logan didn’t answer.
‘Look, I’m not trying to embarrass you, Logan.’
‘I know what you’re doing. It won’t change how I feel right now.’
‘I’m only going to let you go with me if I can be sure you’re okay.’
Logan looked at his friend for a moment.
‘I’m going with you.’
Cahill nodded and went back to the main part of the room.
Cahill insisted that they eat something and walk down to check out the area around the diner. All that they could find in the room were a couple of biscuits so they shared them, Logan glad that he was able to keep them down.
‘Put on a jacket that you can pull down over your belt to hide your gun,’ Cahill told Logan. ‘Don’t want to be too obvious.’
Logan fitted the holster to his belt and when he had that in place around his waist he grabbed a light jacket and pulled it on. It hung long enough and loose at his waist. Cahill wore something similar.
‘Follow my lead,’ Cahill said. ‘If it gets nasty, shoot to kill.’
Logan nodded, his jaw muscles bunching as he clenched his teeth.
‘Try not to hit the Feds. Or the cops.’
Cahill smiled. Logan couldn’t manage one in return.
It was six-thirty. Ninety minutes to go.
17
The armed response unit screeched to a stop outside the flat, followed by a traffic car which had been in the area and responded to the call.
‘In the building,’ Irvine shouted at the armed police as they got out of their car. ‘Officer shot upstairs.’
She had time to see the body of the woman who had run from the flat lying on the grass. She had fallen face down after being shot, exposing the ugly exit wound in her back where the bullet had torn out of her after destroying her insides. Blood had soaked into the grass.
The driver of the traffic car, a powerful BMW, opened his door. Irvine shook her head and ran towards him waving him back into the car.
‘No. I’m coming with you. Let’s go.’
She got in the rear of the car and told them to go, pointing in the direction she had seen Butler drive off.
The cop in the front passenger seat got on the radio and asked for aerial support. He gave his position to the dispatcher, talking in short bursts.
Irvine tried to breathe, put her hand against her chest and felt her heart hammering inside.
She closed her eyes and listened to the radio chatter: more cars on their way to join the pursuit and then a voice from the helicopter. It was already in the air overhead. At the first report of an officer shooting, every spare resource had been deployed.
When she opened her eyes again they were racing down a ramp to join the eastbound carriageway of the M8 motorway. The passenger turned to look at her.
‘You okay?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to talk in a steady voice.
The helicopter pilot’s voice came on the radio telling them that Butler’s car was about a half-mile ahead of them. Irvine saw the speedometer press on past a hundred.
She realised that she didn’t even have her seatbelt on, grabbed at it and took three attempts to click it into place.
‘There he is,’ the driver said, pointing at a car weaving in and out of the traffic up ahead.
‘Boy doesn’t have the power to outrun us,’ his partner added.
He got on the radio and alerted all other cars to their exact location. Activated the lights and siren. It was louder than Irvine remembered.
Cars in front of them started to slow and pull out of their way and they gained quickly on Butler. He was pulling the car recklessly across the road, almost colliding with a big four-by-four.
‘He’s going to get someone killed,’ Irvine shouted.
‘So long as it’s only him,’ the driver replied.
They passed another on-ramp and Irvine saw two more police cars with their lights flashing get in line behind the car she was in.
They pulled to within fifty yards of Butler.
We’ve got this guy now, she thought.
He swerved hard towards the outside lane to avoid a car slowing ahead of him. Didn’t quite make it.
The rear panel of his car clipped the back of the other one. It sent Butler’s car spinning through the central barrier and into the path of a truck on the opposite carriageway.
Irvine watched smoke billow from the truck’s tyres as the driver slammed on his brakes. Thought she saw Butler’s face looking back at her.
Then the car was obliterated.
18
Irvine was sitting with her legs out of the rear door of the traffic car when an unmarked car drew up on the stretch of motorway that had been closed to deal with the accident. The place was crawling with emergency service vehicles and personnel. Irvine looked over and saw Liam Moore and Paul Warren get out of the car. She raised a hand and they walked over to meet her.
‘How’s Kenny doing?’ Warren asked. ‘I was told he got shot but didn’t get the details.’
‘He lost two fingers,’ Irvine said, holding up her hand and touching her own fingers. ‘Otherwise he should be fine, I think. I didn’t have time to wait around to find out.’
‘Butler was waiting for you when you got to the flat?’ Moore asked.
‘He must have been hiding out there after what he did to the accountants.’
‘What about the women at the flat?’ Moore asked.
He looked around at the carnage on the road and shook his head.
‘One dead for sure. Touch and go if the other one will make it. Both shot.’
‘Jesus,’ Warren said, shaking his head. ‘What a psycho.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Irvine said.
‘You don’t look so good,’ Moore told her.
‘Thanks. I feel as good as I look.’
She tried to smile at her own joke. Didn’t succeed. Couldn’t seem to get her muscles to do anything that she wanted. The constant chatter from the car’s radio sounded like white noise buzzing in her ears.
‘Let me get someone to drive you home,’ Moore said.
She nodded and rested her chin on her hands. Didn’t have the energy to know how she felt about it all now that it was over. Tears welled in her eyes and she wiped at them, unashamed to do so in front of Moore and Warren.
‘You did good,’ Moore told her. ‘You and Kenny. Busted this thing open.’
Warren nodded.
‘Thanks,’ Irvine managed to say, hearing the tremor in her own voice.
She didn’t trust herself to hold it together and speak at the same time so she said nothing else.
A member of Warren’s team came over to speak to him. He walked away with the man for a moment then
