Verity stopped in his tracks. He pointed a gloved finger at Macdonald. 'I said him. If I'd wanted you to do it I'd have told you.' He pointed at Owen. 'Do it!' he shouted. Then to Macdonald: 'You stay with me where I can keep my eye on you.' He jogged down the centre aisle, Macdonald and the Glaswegian following him while Owen ran towards the main door.
Doug was already sitting at the controls of a fork-lift truck. 'Here they are.' Fred gestured at a pallet loaded with cardboard boxes.
'Come on, get them loaded and let's get out of here!' yelled Verity. The boxes contained the latest Pentium chips from the States. According to Verity's man on the west coast, there were twenty-four boxes in the shipment worth almost a million pounds, wholesale.
In the distance, the metal door slammed. They all turned at the sound of running feet. Verity and Macdonald raced into the main aisle and saw Owen hurtling towards them. 'Cops!' yelled Owen. 'There's cops everywhere!'
Verity whirled round. 'What?'
'They've got PJ. There's armed cops all over the place.'
Verity's hand dropped towards his scanner. He checked the frequency and the volume. Everything was as it should be. 'They can't be,' he said.
'They must have hit a silent alarm!' shouted Owen.
Verity ran towards the office, where Eddie was standing with both hands on his pistol. 'What do we do?' asked Eddie.
Verity gestured at the metal door. There were bolts top and bottom. 'Lock it,' he said. Eddie ran over, slid the bolts, then ducked away. There were no windows in the warehouse, no way of seeing what was going on outside. Owen was panting hard. Verity put a hand on his shoulder. 'How many?' he asked.
'Shit, I don't know. They were all over the minibus. Three unmarked cars. A dozen, maybe. I didn't hang around to count.'
Verity rushed into the office, slapped the warehouseman across the face, then ripped the tape off his mouth. 'Did you trip an alarm?'
The man was shaking. 'How c-c-could I?' he stammered. 'You were w-w-watching me all the time. You know you were.'
'What are we going to do?' asked Eddie.
'Shut the fuck up and let me think,' said Verity.
'There's nothing we can do,' said Macdonald. 'If the cops are outside, it's all over.'
Verity ignored him and turned to Owen. 'You said they had PJ?'
'He was bent over the bonnet of one of the cars and a cop was handcuffing him.'
'Did they see you?'
Owen nodded.
'The minibus was still there?'
Owen nodded again.
'Okay,' said Verity. If the cops knew they'd been seen then he and his men had only seconds. He gestured with his shotgun at the two on the floor. 'Free their legs,' he said. 'And untie the twat in the chair. They're our ticket out of here.'
Eddie rushed into the office. Fred and the Glaswegian bent down and ripped the tape off the fork-lift drivers' legs.
Verity cradled his shotgun as he stared at the bolted metal door. If the cops knew they were armed, they wouldn't come storming in. And if they went out with hostages, the police wouldn't be able to shoot. Verity tried to visualise the geography around the warehouse. As far as he could recall, there were no vantage-points for snipers. It would all be up close and personal, and that meant the cops wouldn't be able to fire without risking the hostages. But they had to move quickly. 'Come on, come on!' he shouted.
Eddie pushed the warehouseman out of the office. 'The security guard's still out cold,' he said.
'Three's enough,' said Verity.
'Enough for what?' asked Macdonald.
'To get us out of here.' Verity went over to the warehouseman. 'Give me the duct tape.' He held out his hand to Owen, who tossed him the roll. The warehouseman tried to speak but Verity pushed the barrel of the shotgun under his nose and told him to shut up. 'George, come over here.' The Glaswegian walked over to him. 'Put your shotgun against the back of his neck.' The Glaswegian did as he was told, and Verity wound duct tape round the weapon and the warehouseman's neck.
'You use him like that and it's kidnapping,' said Macdonald. 'Shoot him and it's cold-blooded murder.'
'If the cops let us go, no one'll get hurt,' said Verity. He nodded at Fred. 'Do the same with him.' He gestured at one of the fork-lift drivers. The West Indian hauled the man to his feet and did as he was told.
'They won't let us walk out of here,' said Macdonald. 'Even with hostages.'
'Armed robbery will get us twelve years, maybe fifteen,' said Verity. 'If a gun goes off and one of these sad fucks gets it, it'll be manslaughter. Ten to twelve. We've got nothing to lose.'
'Ted Verity, I know you can hear me,' said a voice. Verity spun round, then realised that the voice had come through the scanner earpiece. It was being broadcast on the police frequency. 'This is the police. It's over, Ted, come out now before this gets out of hand.'
Verity roared and ran over to the fork-lift driver Fred was tying up. He slammed his shotgun against the man's chin, then kicked him between the legs, hard. He fell back, and Verity hit him again as he went down.
Macdonald grabbed Verity's arm. 'What the hell's got into you?'
Verity shook him off. The earpiece buzzed again. 'There's armed police out here, Ted. There's nowhere for you to go. Leave your weapons where they are and come out with your hands in the air. If we have to come in and get you, people are going to get hurt.'
A telephone began to ring in the office.
'Answer the phone, Ted,' said the voice in Verity's ear.
'It's the cops,' said the Glaswegian. 'They'll be wanting to talk to us.'
Eddie hurried over to Verity.
'They've already talked to us,' said Verity. He slapped the scanner on his belt. 'On the radio.'
'How did they know we had a scanner?' asked Eddie, his face just inches away from Verity's.
Verity could smell garlic on his breath. 'They knew everything,' he said. 'We've been set up.' He swore, then pushed Eddie in the chest. 'Get the fuck away from me!' he said.
'It's over,' said Macdonald. He turned to the Glaswegian, looking for his support. The Glaswegian shrugged, but said nothing. 'If we go out with hostages, they'll throw away the key,' said Macdonald. The Glaswegian's finger was on the trigger of the shotgun. Most of the barrel was covered with duct tape, binding it to the warehouseman's neck. The man was trembling and the tape across his mouth pulsed in and out as he breathed.
'They'll throw away the key for me, anyway,' said the Glaswegian. 'One look at my record.' He jabbed the shotgun against the warehouseman's neck. 'Let's just do what we've got to do.'
Macdonald groaned. 'Jeff,' he said to Owen, 'help me out. This mad bastard's gonna get us all killed.'
'No names!' screamed Verity, brandishing his shotgun. 'No fucking names!'
'Ted,' said Macdonald calmly, 'them knowing who we are is the least of our problems.'
'He's right,' said Doug. 'If the cops are outside it's thank you and good night.' He gestured at the door with his handgun. 'This pea-shooter's gonna do me no good against pigs with heavy artillery.'
'We're not gonna shoot at them,' shouted Verity. 'All we're gonna do is tell them if they try to stop us the hostages get it. Look, the minibus is out there. PJ's there. If we move now, we can still get out of here. If we keep yapping they'll be firing tear gas and God knows what else in here.'
The phone stopped ringing. Fred went to stand by Doug. The Glaswegian pulled the warehouseman back so that he was closer to Verity. Battle lines were being drawn. Owen cursed and moved over to Verity, his sawn-off shotgun at the ready. He gestured with his chin for Macdonald to join him but Macdonald shook his head.
'Eddie,' said Verity, 'get the hell over here.'
Eddie looked across at the two West Indians, then at Verity. 'I didn't sign up for a shoot-out,' he said. 'In and out, you said.'
'Eddie, get over here or I'll shoot you myself.' Eddie gritted his teeth. Verity levelled his shotgun at Eddie's
