‘They never even got their feet on the ground. A couple of provo gunmen stuck their Armalites out of the windows on the second floor, right above the car, and started shooting on fully automatic. The driver was killed outright.’
‘What about the one in the front seat passenger side?’ I asked.
‘If I remember rightly, he died later in hospital.’
‘Great. That’s a real fucking help, that is.’
‘Fucking hell, Eric,’ snorted Tony. ‘Make us all feel better, why don’t you?’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much, Tone. Or you,’ Eric added, meaning Fowler. ‘The one in the back survived. Got hit in the neck but the bullet passed straight through. Didn’t touch a single one of his main cables. Far as I know the bloke’s still alive.’
‘Stop joking around, and keep your wits about you,’ hissed Fowler. ‘That’s what I’m paying you for.’
Eric’s face clouded over. He didn’t like taking shit from anyone, even paying customers. ‘You know, Max, I’m beginning to think this job’s worth a lot more than what I’m getting for it.’
‘Life’s an underpaid occupation, Eric,’ I told him. ‘Everyone knows that.’ I looked at my watch again. 10.14. ‘I’m going to take a look around.’
Fowler leant forward abruptly. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr Iversson. It’s best we stick together and wait for them to come.’
‘I won’t go far. I just want to check things out.’
‘Look, I insist…’
I stepped out of the car, ignoring his pleas. I’m pretty good with the punters usually, to tell you the truth, but it wasn’t as if I was going to get any repeat business from this prick, plus I already had the money, so basically there was no need to play along with him. Particularly when it was so obvious that there was a lot more to this meeting than he was letting on. Fucking people around was a game two could play.
I stretched my legs, then walked casually towards the door in the far corner, keeping one eye on the boxes overhead. Eric’s story had given me the spooks a lot more than I’d ordinarily like to admit. It seemed to have done the same to him too because he stepped out of the car and leant back against the bonnet, lighting another cigarette and watching the boxes like a hawk.
I reached the door and tried it. Locked. So, who the hell had come here and switched the lights on? And where were they now? I turned back towards the car.
Eric looked across at me. ‘Nothing?’
I shook my head. ‘Locked.’ I walked across to the open doors and stepped outside into the warm breeze. Over on the horizon the distant lights of the West End glowed pink. The road was quiet and I listened hard for any sound of a car coming through the estate, but there was nothing bar the distant rumble of traffic. Maybe they just liked to be fashionably late.
It was 10.16 and I was edgy. I decided to go back and question Fowler in a little more detail about exactly what was in that briefcase of his, the one he’d been so reluctant to bring into the warehouse.
I turned round.
* * *
In the car, Roy Fowler was still fretting as he waited to get everything over and done with. Ten more minutes, he kept telling himself. Just ten more minutes, and he’d be a rich man.
Tony gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. ‘Look, Mr Fowler, calm down. It’s going to be OK.’
Fowler exhaled heavily and turned to Tony. His face was taut with tension. ‘I’m all right. I just wish they’d get here, that’s all.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ said Tony encouragingly. ‘They’re already here.’ He motioned towards the front doors where Iversson stood with his back to them.
Fowler wriggled round in his seat and looked out of the rear window. ‘Where?’
‘Here,’ said Tony, and pushed the silencer hard against Fowler’s head, just in front of his ear.
Before Fowler even had a chance to react, Tony pulled the trigger. Fowler let out a sharp sigh and the passenger window behind him cracked as the bullet passed through it. He slumped in the seat, and rolled round so he was facing his killer, allowing Tony to press the weapon against his forehead and give him one more, just for good measure.
The front driver’s door opened and Eric, having heard the noise of breaking glass, shoved his head in, completely unaware of what had just happened. He spotted Fowler immediately, dead in his seat, blood dripping down his face in thin rivulets and onto his sweat-stained shirt.
‘What the fuck’s going on?’ he demanded.
‘I shot him,’ said Tony, pulling the gun up from his side and aiming it at his colleague’s face. Eric’s eyes widened and his body tensed as he tried to come to terms with the sight in front of him.
‘Tony, don’t do—’
Tony fired twice, both bullets striking Eric in the face. The big man staggered backwards, and Tony leant forward to fire two more shots into his upper body. His legs buckled and went from under him, and he fell heavily to the ground, moaning and clutching wildly at his face and chest.
Tony, meanwhile, threw open the car door and came out looking for the man who until two minutes ago had been his boss.
* * *
I was still in the process of turning round as Roy Fowler died. It took a couple of seconds to take in the muffled noises and the movement in the back of the Range Rover, by which time Eric was turning round, still holding onto his cigarette, and hurriedly pulling open the door. I took a step forward as Eric said something to Tony, then a series of popping sounds came from inside the car and Eric’s head snapped back and he lost his footing, stumbling like a drunk man.
I knew immediately
