rushed for it again.
There was a blur of movement to my right as I tried to get upright. I was too slow: I had to get in close to him before he could do any more jap slapping.
He buried his head in my stomach and pushed me towards the fireplace. We stumbled over the TV and my back jarred against the tiles, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Blood spluttered from my damaged mouth.
I kept an arm round him. If he managed to detach himself and got to use his hands, I’d be fucked.
I brought down the mosque as hard as I could. I didn’t care where it hit him, just so long as it did. There was a loud groan and I held on to him tight, keeping him close.
I wanted to target his head, but it was too far into my stomach. I lifted the mosque again and punched it down between his shoulder-blades.
I could smell burning, then I felt heat. My hair was singeing against the fire-guard.
I jerked away from the wall and we rolled. I bucked my way on top, pulling my arm clear so that I could smash the base of the mosque down on his head.
I missed, but I got his neck.
Down again, got his face.
Down again. There was a dull crunch of bones. Blood. A muffled moan.
He was only semi-conscious now, his blood soaking into the carpet. I kept astride him. ‘ WHERE IS MY CHILD ? WHERE IS THE HOUSE ?’
He turned his head and tried to smile, but he couldn’t get the muscles to work. ‘Soon, in hell.’
I twisted the metal ornament in my hand so that the crescent moon on the tip of the muezzin tower was pointed towards him, and hammered it into his blood-soaked face, again and again.
The heavy brass crunched against his head twice more, my arm juddering as I made contact, then his skull caved in.
The little bubbles of blood stopped coming out of his nose. His eyes had a vacant stare, pupils fully dilated. A pool of darker blood thickened on the carpet, which couldn’t absorb the amount leaking out of him. I left the tower embedded in his temple.
Swallowing more blood as I fought for oxygen, I plunged my hand into his pocket, feeling for his cell. There wasn’t time to fuck about looking for the son’s address. I wouldn’t know it even if I saw it.
The phone was smeared with his blood but still powered up. I couldn’t call the Yes Man from here – I didn’t want him to know where the bottles were. Not yet.
I swallowed a tooth, nearly choking as it tore its way down my throat. I got to my feet and ripped back the curtains, trying to control my breathing.
Rain rattled against the windows. There was a main drag outside but no road signs. Directly opposite was a Victorian corner pub converted into a mosque.
I lunged down the stairs, and out into the rain.
The gates were corrugated: I undid the bolt, but they wouldn’t open. They’d been secured by the padlocked chain.
I put the cell into a coat pocket and started a frenzied climb. Adrenaline sorted out the pain in my face as I slipped and slid on the angle-iron frame.
I managed to wedge my right foot on the crosspiece, but as I pushed down on my heel to propel myself upwards, the skin split and I felt metal grate against bone.
I threw myself over and collapsed on the pavement the other side, my whole body in pain. Curled up on the ground, trying to recover, I pulled out the cell to make sure it hadn’t got damaged in the fall. The power was still on, everything was OK.
To my left, fifteen metres away, was the main, and on the other side of it the mosque. I hobbled towards it and saw a sign. I was at the junction of Northdown and Caledonian.
Shit, I was just the other side of King’s Cross, the way Grey and Navy had gone when we followed them.
I started dragging myself up Caledonian, the main, past the disused Indian. I had to get some distance between me and DW.
Rain poured into my mouth as I gasped for air. Mud and grit worked their way inside my injured heel with every step.
I dialled the Yes Man. He was on the line before I heard it ring.
I jumped into the doorway of a Bangladeshi community centre at almost the same moment as Suzy drew up alongside in the Renault.
‘It’s me. Dark Winter – one of the bottles has been opened, but I’ve got them all contained.’
‘Slow down – say again?’
I dashed across the pavement and into the car, slamming the door behind me.
‘Where’s D—?’
I held up my hand to silence her, then plugged my free ear with a wet finger to cut out the roar of the heater and the drumbeat of the rain.
I took a deep breath and held it a second. ‘I say again, I’ve got all Dark Winter contained.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Get a fix on this phone. I’ll keep it open.’
‘Is it with you?’
‘No. Shut up and listen. The ASU have split. They’re bound to have check-in times on this cell. One of the team is contaminated. I need to get there now – if they report in and there’s no answer . . .’
‘Report to who? What has happened?’
‘Doesn’t matter. Look, if they call in and don’t get an answer, fuck knows what they’ll do. I repeat, one of them is contaminated. This is the source’s cell. I’ll give you his numbers. You tell me where they are, and I can get there now, before they report in. You’ve got to get your finger out – I don’t know the check-in time. You understand?’
Suzy revved the engine and dropped the clutch. ‘Let’s find that van.’
I went through the menu to ‘calls made’ as the Renault screamed down the road. Suzy attacked the condensation on the windscreen as the wipers thrashed ineffectually on the other side of the glass. ‘Fucking car!’
We passed a warren of roads through a housing estate.
Three numbers came up. I knew the Yes Man would be on to it now he had this one, and would be checking its history, but it would take them a couple of minutes. This was quicker.
Shit: 001212.
The American call.
I got back to him. ‘I’ve got a Manhattan number. He spoke to them less than thirty ago.’ I recited it, then reeled off the other two UK numbers.
‘Got it. Wait out.’ He cut off.
Suzy slowed as we passed a service road for a run of shops, and wound down her window. I did the same, my eyes shooting all over the place, trying to ignore the pain in my foot.
‘I was just coming in to get you, then I saw you pile over the gate.’ She was virtually shouting at me, her head stuck out of the window so she could see ahead. The windscreen was thick with condensation. ‘I had to stay with DW. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Kelly is with them, they took her in the van.’
‘Tell the boss, he needs to know.’
‘Why? This is the only way I might get to her. He won’t give a shit about her. I just can’t take any chances.’
We sped towards the junction, having cleared the service road. ‘I saw them – they went this way for sure. Fuck, fuck!’ She hit the brakes as the headlights caught a set of bollards blocking off a rat-run through the estate.
We both turned and squinted through the rain-covered rear window as she reversed. ‘They can’t be more
