The impact jarred right through me, but he dropped instantly, the gun clattering away from him as he fell. My body was already spinning to continue the attack when my mind registered the face of my enemy, now visible under the lights, and put the brakes on. I stumbled to a halt, my movements suddenly jerky and uncoordinated.
“
The boy on the floor gave me a look of such intense and vicious hatred that I staggered back from it. I entirely forgot to take the other assailant into account. He rammed into me and sent the pair of us sprawling. I managed to get an elbow to his face, but it was no more than a superficial blow.
Still, it was enough to send him reeling, and when I glanced at him, I knew why. Harlow and Drummond were professionals. They’d obviously been told to make an example of Roger, and when they’d worked him over they’d made sure they marked him where it would show.
His face was still a mass of tender bruises, and the left side seemed to be one big scab. The swelling was pulling his lip down, showing his teeth. Both eyes were open now, but the white of one was flecked with blood.
I took the opportunity to roll away from him fast, hearing him screaming to Nasir, “Get the gun! Shoot her, for fuck’s sake!”
If I’d known Roger was going to be so damned unfriendly, I would have left him to get what was coming to him in that alley.
Ah well, too late for regrets now.
I got to my feet to find that Nasir had indeed regained his grip on the gun, and had it pointing firmly at me. Closer, and in better light, I could see it was a 9mm semiautomatic pistol. A Browning Hi-Power design, made by FN in Belgian. I’d fired enough of them on the army ranges for the weapon to be familiar.
This one hadn’t had the benefit of military upkeep, though. It was battered and abused, with traces of rust along the barrel. It didn’t look like the sort of thing the FN Herstal company would want to use pictures of in their latest brochure. A workmanlike killing tool, no trophy piece.
Slowly, and without any sudden moves, I brought my hands up to shoulder height, and kept them there.
It was a strange tableau. We were all of us covered in the pinkish powder from the fire extinguisher. I’d been closest and come off worst in the exchange. I looked like a slightly effeminate ghost.
Roger’s face had opened up again where I’d caught him, the blood leaving red trails through the powder and dripping down onto his T-shirt. He was holding himself stiffly, like an arthritic old man.
I just couldn’t believe that he’d risen from his sick bed with the express purpose of coming down here with his mate to slaughter me. It seemed ludicrous overkill. In more ways than one.
“So, Nasir,” I said conversationally, “are we going to stand around all night, or are you just going to shoot me?”
“Shut up!” he yelled, seeming close to tears. The gun was wavering alarmingly. “Just shut up!”
Roger glanced at him, worry creasing his face. “Come on, Nas, get it over with!” he urged nervously.
For a moment Nasir looked as though he was going to comply. I tensed, then he let out a tortured groan.
“I can’t!” he wailed, letting the muzzle of the gun drop.
Roger jumped to his side, grabbing his arm and almost seeming to forget about my presence. “You’ve got to,” he said sharply. “She’s got to die, tonight.”
I knew I should be asking questions, but for the life of me I couldn’t utter a word. It was like watching the actors on a film set. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be my own cold-blooded execution they were talking about . . .
Nasir gave out a sob. “I can’t,” he said again. He brought his hands up to cover his face. “Oh, God help her.”
“You bastard!” Roger screamed at him. “Don’t you know what’s going to happen? Don’t you care?”
Before Nasir could respond, there was the roar of an engine turning off the road into the gym entrance, and the blaze of headlights as they cut a swathe across the car park.
Nasir took a horrified look at the Dutch-plated Grand Cherokee that was leaping over the loose surface towards us, and panicked completely.
By this time his gun hand was shaking so much he could barely take aim, but he loosed off three quick, startled shots in the general direction of the jeep. I was standing so close to him when he fired that my eardrums seemed to explode.
More by luck than by skill, his first shot hit the windscreen. It bloomed instantly into an opaque mesh of fracture lines, radiating out from the point of impact like ripples.
The second two shots cracked harmlessly overhead, way high.
As soon as the first round struck, the Cherokee’s wheel was wrenched over, with the driver’s side furthest away from us. It skated to a halt and I saw the door fly open.
Sean came out hard and fast, moving straight into cover. Even if Nasir had his nerve intact, he would have to have been at marksman standard to have stood half a chance of hitting him.
I took the opportunity presented by this new distraction to dodge forwards, stepping quickly in to Nasir’s body and wrapping my arms round his right hand. I locked on to his wrist with a tenacity that Friday would have been proud of, and dug steely fingers into the nearest available pressure points.
With hindsight, it was a damned stupid move. Tackling someone who’s pointing a loaded gun at you, I mean, but the whole thing had a surreal quality about it. Any moment the unseen director was going to shout, “Cut!” and we’d all go off to grab a coffee together before the next take.
As I twisted my fingers, Nasir’s grip on the weapon started to loosen, which would have worked out just fine, had Roger not realised what was happening. He gave a kind of strangled scream and jumped me, landing a vicious punch in my kidneys.
My legs buckled. I let go of Nasir’s hand, and went down on my hands and knees. He jumped away from me and I looked up to stare straight into the muzzle of the FN, only a few feet away.
I could see Nasir’s face beyond the wobbling barrel, watched as he screwed up the courage to pull the trigger while he still had the time to do it. At that range, there was no way he could possibly miss.
“
“Just stay out of this,” Roger shouted back desperately. His voice gave way, close to tears, as he flicked his gaze back to Nasir, and then to me. “You don’t understand,” he cried. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
“Leave you alone to become an accessory to murder, you mean?” Sean gave a harsh laugh. “Oh yeah,
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roger told him bitterly. “You don’t know what’s going on round here.”
Nasir glanced to Roger, agitated, and while his attention was off line I brought my hands up sharply, scattering gravel into the boys’ faces. It was never going to do them much damage, but at least both of them jerked further away from me.
At that moment, as though on cue, Sean burst round the front wing of the Cherokee and came charging across the ground between us like an avenging angel. Dressed in black, face set, he was enough to strike terror into an enemy far more resolute than Nasir.
As it was, Nasir got off one wild shot before the FN mis-fed the next round and locked up solid. If he’d been halfway proficient he could have had the blockage cleared in moments and slotted Sean while he was still yards away.
As it was, he rattled fruitlessly at the jammed slide, threw a forlorn, fearful look to Roger, and bolted, taking the useless weapon with him. Roger was only a stride or two behind him.
They took off towards the area to the back of the gym. Sean came thundering past me and there was a deadly intent in his eyes as he followed. The boys were heading for the broken-down wire fencing behind the building. An easy escape onto open ground piled with the rubble of a demolished factory. If they made it that far, they’d be free and clear.
I hauled myself upright and, with more misgivings than I cared to count, I turned and gave chase.
