The conveyor-belt creaked under my weight. To me, it felt like I was making enough noise to wake up the whole of Noord 5. It couldn’t be helped. All I could do was take my time and not fuck up by dropping anything or falling off.
I slowly pushed the hatch open, just enough to get my head through. As before, my nose filled with the smell of flour. As before, there was the faintest glimmer of light through the gap at the bottom.
I loosened the Bergen straps and lay on my side to wriggle out of them. I had to work my way through the hatch and onto the ladder feet first. It would have been a nightmare with a Bergen on my back. I wrapped a hand around one of the straps in case the thing decided to fall.
I lowered my feet and found a rung. Once I had a firm footing, I dragged the Bergen towards me and hauled it back over my shoulders. No worries about muddy boots this time.
Slowly but surely I made my descent. By the time my boots were on the concrete and adding to the prints in the flour, my hands were caked with mud. I wiped them on my jeans. It was warm down here. I took off the Bergen and rested it against the wall. I eased my head beneath the steel shutters and into the main part of the building.
At first, everything looked exactly the same as before. The top right-hand window was the only one that had a light on. The two windows to the left of it were dark, as were the two either side of the door below into the office block. A TV flickered, but I couldn’t hear any sound or movement. A haze of cigarette smoke filled the room.
I bent down and grabbed the mallet from under the top flap of the Bergen. The mush of TV waffle reached my ears and got louder the closer I got to the door into the main entrance hallway.
16
I knelt down and checked for light the other side of it. There was a soft glow. I put my ear to the door. The TV was still going strong; I couldn’t hear anything else.
I tried the handle. It opened into a gloomy hallway
There were two doors on the left and two on the right. Ten fire extinguishers were lined up between them like sentries. At the far end of the corridor was the outside entrance. Light spilled onto it from up the stairs.
Light also seeped from under the second door on the left. I leant as close as I could to the top panel. There was a faint murmur of childlike voices. Someone was crying and being comforted. The Chubb-style key was still in the lock and a bolt - thrown back - had been newly fixed just above it.
I turned the key just enough to confirm that it was locked, then removed it to keep them contained. I could still hear nothing above the TV upstairs. I knew the voice. Horatio Caine was being
The external door hadn’t been bolted. The deadlocks were on. No one was getting out unless they had the keys. There were three to undo so it would take them a while. I eased the bolts into place. Now it would also take a while for anyone to get in.
I turned left towards the stairwell. I only had one chance to make this work quickly and quietly. The light on the landing above me came from two naked fluorescent tubes. The steps were solid concrete. Their coating of red paint had faded over the years and the concrete had worn. There had once been a handrail but now only the fixing holes remained.
I clenched the mallet in my right hand. I swung my arms as I took each step, head up, sucking in deep breaths to prepare for my attack. Two neos were now at the bottom of the bay. I had no idea how many of the four I’d introduced myself to at the tile factory were up and about. But I assumed that Flynn and Bitch Tits would be looking after the shop. By the time I was halfway up I could smell cigarette smoke. The kind that makes your eyes water and takes the skin off the back of your throat. Whoever was up there wasn’t paying much attention to the government health warning.
I reached the top landing. I was in auto-mode. I felt blood surge into my hands and legs, preparing me for fight or flight.
Then, just when I needed him most, Horatio stopped waffling.
The door to my half-left was open. I had maybe one second’s advantage on whoever was in the room, no more. I could hear everyone in Miami loud and clear.
There were other doors: two to the right, three to the left. All closed. Notice boards peppered with rusty drawing pins but no paper lined the walls, punctuated by steel spikes that had once supported fire extinguishers. Faded hazard warning signs still hung above them.
I took three steps across the corridor and over the threshold. Arm raised, I was ready to take on the first part of any body that came within reach.
There was nobody in there apart from Horatio, but the last inch or so of an untipped cancer-stick still glowed in the ashtray.
A cistern flushed and the door opened at the far end of the room. Robot came out, still doing up his flies. He was dressed in the same brown overcoat he’d been wearing in Christiania.
He patted the zip into place and raised his head. There was no surprise on his face when he saw me, no shock, no fear, no hesitation. He launched himself straight at me.
I brought up the mallet. His arm chopped up and blocked it easily. His other fist punched into the side of my head and his leg kicked out. It connected with my thigh and I buckled with pain.
My head hit the floor. Stars burst in front of my eyes. Pain coursed through my body. More kicks landed. I could feel myself starting to lose it. I couldn’t let that happen. I worked hard to keep my eyes open, curling up as a knee went down onto my chest.
His face displayed the same lack of emotion as it had when he’d talked about Mr Big’s fringe benefits in the kitchen of the green house. Calmly and efficiently, he was just getting on with the job of killing me.
17
I had to pull myself together or I was dead.
I tried to twist my head out of the way as the fists came down. I felt one brush my ear as it missed and carried on into the concrete. He didn’t flinch.
I bucked like a madman to present a moving target. All I could hear was a voice in my head telling me to keep him close.
I grabbed him with my arms around the back of his coat and pulled him in to me in a big bear hug. I tucked my head into his neck so he couldn’t butt me. If I kept hugging him I might be able to control him for long enough to work out what the fuck to do.
I wriggled as much as I could. I wanted to roll on top of him. I was heavier than him. Maybe that would work. But he wasn’t having any of it. He tried to expand his arms so he could break out of my grasp. His head jerked down the side of mine, right onto my ear. It popped and burnt with pain. I rolled over, but not in the direction I’d wanted. We were both side on to the ground.
He got his mouth to my ear. ‘Give up. You’re just going to die fucked.’ The Scouse was as precise and unhurried as it had been at the negotiating table.
I writhed again to try to get on top of him, but we rolled together and hit the wall.
My hands were pinned behind his back. All I had left was my head. I butted him in the temple.
His arms flailed. My hands broke free. I was going to have to be quicker than him. Or just better.
I kicked and he let me go. It was pointless running. I had to stay here. He was the target. I had to carry on.
Somehow I got to my feet, my body side-on to him, crouching, legs nice and stable, arms up.
He stood up too. Dusted off his coat. I half expected him to shoot his cuffs. We were about three metres apart. Our eyes locked.
I mirrored his pose, knees bent to protect my bollocks, arms up, head pushed down so my chin hit my chest.
