new sleeping-bags, they’d surely have somebody on stag. Which was worse? And did it matter? The fact was, the fuckers were in there and soon we would be too.
We turned left towards King’s Cross. All the late-night food places were now closed, but the pavements were strewn with their wrappers and a crateload of old Stella cans. There were fewer drunks hanging around than before, and a couple more whores, but otherwise the cast of characters looked more or less the same. The camera was pointing across the road towards the police station. Maybe its mirrored glass needed more protection at this time of night than members of the public.
As we got to the crossing that took us to the bow of the ship, Suzy pulled her selection of Ward-lock keys out of her jeans pocket. We didn’t look out of place round here: this was cheap-hotel land, and backpackers and budget tourists were seen twenty-four hours a day. We crossed the road arm in arm, on to the tip of Jim’s kebab shop.
I looked at her and smiled. ‘You ready?’
She smiled back. ‘You bet.’ Her eyes passed mine and moved on to the station CCTV. ‘It’s still pointing over the road.’
We turned left on to Gray’s Inn. When we got to the target, I put down my bag and got into position with my back against the door, holding my arms out for her. She smiled and her bag joined mine as she leant into my embrace. ‘Left a bit.’ I moved as ordered, and felt the lock press against my left shoulder as I ran my hands through her damp hair and gazed at her adoringly, while she got her arm up for the key then tried to see over my shoulder and get into a good position to open the padlock. ‘That’ll do, stay there – that’s it, just there.’
There was no one else about, not that it mattered. Whatever happened, we’d just have to get on with it, as we did getting over the wall in King’s Lynn. Fannying around just gives people more time to take notice.
A steady bass beat came up the road, two cars pulsating with the power of their own speakers. They revved their engines, jumping the lights up by the ship’s bow less than twenty metres away as Suzy brought down the key from the door frame. I soon heard the shackle being lifted out of the hasp, and felt her breath against my neck. ‘Easy.’
Suzy moved her head a little towards me as I checked the windows above the shops opposite. ‘The door’s giving.’ Her head went back slightly to check out the station CCTV. I smiled and nodded.
I lifted my right hand off her back and moved it between us. If anybody came along now they’d think I was having a feel. Her stomach eased away from me so I could reach under my sweatshirt.
‘Wait, wait.’ Two figures were approaching from the direction of the ship’s stern, on our side of the street.
My hand was still between us, now gripping the pistol. It was just a couple of teenagers, out on the town. Both of them saw where my hand was and obviously thought it was my lucky night. As they passed they gave me a big grin and a ‘Wa-hey, get in there!’ as Suzy gave me another kiss hard on the lips. She tasted a little more of gum than vomit now. I pulled her a little tighter with my left arm. Maybe this would be the last time I ever got to kiss a woman.
They disappeared towards the station and I had one last check round as I took over holding the door in position with my left hand. ‘You ready?’
She gobbed out her gum, then nodded, and I gripped harder on the Browning. I took a deep breath. ‘OK, stand by . . . stand by . . . go.’
She backed away slightly to give me some room and I pulled out the weapon, bringing the hammer back with my thumb.
There was a gap of about a foot between the door and the frame. Keeping the weapon low on my chest, I side-stepped and slipped through into the narrow hallway, still controlling the door. It was pitch black inside. The instant I was over the threshold and standing on hard concrete, I thrust out the weapon, bending from the waist to make myself a smaller target, finger-pad resting on the trigger’s first pressure.
A shaft of street-light pointed the way to a flight of lino-covered stairs not more than eight metres ahead. I took a step away from the door to let Suzy through, my Browning still straight out in front of me, both hands controlling it now to give the weapon a firm platform.
I pointed the Browning up the stairs as I lifted my foot to make sure I didn’t kick any shit on the floor, eyes flashing everywhere. The staircase was five or six paces ahead. A vehicle passed behind me along Gray’s Inn, a flash of white light flooding the hall.
There was a closed door to my left. I stopped short of it just as Suzy shut the entry-point behind her, plunging us both into darkness. I stayed still, my mouth open, and cocked an ear at the staircase. A pair of high heels clicked along the pavement. Someone tooted a horn at her. Then there was a gentle rustling as Suzy eased the SDs from their bags. Moments later she was with me.
The pistol went back slowly into my jeans and I flicked up the safety catch with my right thumb. My ears fixed on the closed door, my eyes on the staircase, I held out my right hand and her body moved into it. We fumbled for a moment before my hand gripped the cold metal of the SD. I felt my way to the pistol grip; my thumb found the safety catch and pushed it up.
A very faint glow emanated from the back of the sight as my left hand went down for the Maglite in the front pocket of my jeans. Twisting it on with my mouth, I covered most of the lens with the fingers of my left hand so there was just a pinprick of light.
The door was panelled wood, two lever locks on the left covered with flaking paint, one half-way down with an old brass handle, the other at about chin height. It opened inwards.
I shone the torch just above the handle for Suzy to see as I crossed to the hinge side, doing my best to avoid the lumps of fallen plaster and other crap that littered the floor, making sure the beam didn’t shine directly into the keyway and through to the other side.
Suzy knew what I wanted. Her fleece-covered hand closed slowly but firmly around the handle. The rest of her body stayed against the wall, in case someone with a weapon was standing on the other side.
I followed suit, my right shoulder digging into the frame as I pulled out the extendable butt on the SD until the steel rods clicked into position.
I placed the weapon in my right shoulder and swallowed the saliva that had gathered in my open mouth. I could have just let it dribble out, but I didn’t want to leave DNA. I adjusted my head so that the cold steel rod holding this side of the butt plate was comfortable against my cheek, and gripped the suppressed barrel with my left hand.
In the torch’s gentle glow, I could see that Suzy also had her weapon butt fully extended. Her right hand was locked round the pistol grip, weapon pointing to the floor as she eased the butt into her right shoulder. When I saw that her left hand was back on the door handle, I turned off the Maglite.
There was a burst of laughter out on the street. I pushed down on the safety catch and heard the first click into single-shot. I stepped slowly away from the wall and felt my way forwards until I touched Suzy. I tapped what I guessed was her arm before returning my hand to the barrel.
I heard the handle creak. Butt in the shoulder, both eyes open, sight on, aiming where the door would open, I moved forwards. As the door opened an inch, dull street-lighting penetrated the room through empty extractor fan holes near the high ceiling. I moved left, away from the door frame, both eyes open, and went static. Legs bent, I leant into the weapon, making it a part of me as Suzy moved in and right.
We were both clear of the door now, both inside Jim’s kebab shop. Street-light from Pentonville broke through a six-inch gap in the chipboard that covered the tops of MTC’s windows. There was a door to our right, half open. Suzy went towards it, moving as quickly as she could without clattering into debris. I followed as she took up position at the hinged side, facing the opening, weapon up, waiting for me to back her.
I was just behind as she took one pace into the next room. I followed, going right, my thumb continuously checking single-shot.
MTC was small, with just an old counter and shelving. Raised voices filtered through from the other side of the chipboard barrier, an argument between a minicab driver and a bunch of clubbers. My eyes followed the voices – a man leaning against 297 was telling the driver he could shove the ride up his arse because twenty-five quid was way too much to get to Herne Hill. The door was bolted, one up, one down.
I turned back towards Jim’s, weapon still in the shoulder, picking my way through the shit on the floor. Now that some night vision was kicking in I could make out a sliver of light coming from the bottom of our entry-point doorway into the corridor. A couple of cars passed.
