I fell forwards onto the gravel but managed to roll onto my side. Above me stood Luke’s younger brother, Matthew, an iron bar in his hand and a less than Christian look on his face.
Raymond came into view and gave me a nasty little kick in the ribs. ‘Fucking hell, Dennis, you’re beginning to really annoy me now. You keep popping up like a fucking unwanted jack-in-the-box. Why can’t you just get out of my face?’ I wanted to tell him that I would have done if only he’d left me alone, but the act of speaking seemed one effort too far, and it would have been futile anyway. ‘Get him inside, Matthew. Out of the fucking way.’
‘What do you want me to do with him, Mr Keen?’
‘Lock him in the cellar. I’ll phone Illan. His boys can come and deal with him. It’s their fucking fault he’s still here in the first place. And make sure they don’t do anything to him here. I don’t want any mess in my house.’
‘No problem, Mr Keen.’ He leaned down and pulled me up roughly by the shoulders. Although conscious, I wasn’t in much of a position to resist.
Raymond put his face up close to mine. ‘Goodbye, Dennis. I’d say it’s been a pleasure knowing you, but it hasn’t been. Not at all. You were always a miserable cunt. You strike me as the sort of bloke who’d be a lot happier dead, so maybe I’m doing you a favour.’ He gave me a patronizing slap on the cheek, enjoying my helplessness. ‘Ta ta.’
He stood up and turned away. ‘Have we got everything then, Luke?’
‘Seems so, Mr Keen,’ Luke mumbled in reply, slamming the boot shut.
‘Then let’s get out of here. I can’t stand another fucking day of this rain.’
They both clambered into the car while Matthew picked up the MAC 10 and, with his free hand, dragged me backwards along the gravel and into the house. He hauled me through the porch and set me down in the large inner hallway by the rather grand-looking staircase that led up like some Hollywood film set to the main balcony. For some reason, I couldn’t help thinking what a sumptuous place it was that Raymond owned.
He turned and went to open the door under the stairs, but it was locked. He fiddled in his pocket for a key and ended up producing a whole bunch of them. As he searched for the one he wanted, still holding both the gun and the iron bar, I felt my strength slowly coming back.
‘Don’t you fucking try anything, son,’ said Matthew, seeing a flicker of movement in my legs.
‘I wouldn’t do this if I were you,’ I told him in a strained voice. ‘Getting involved in the murder of a police officer. You could go down for twenty years for this.’
‘Shut up and don’t fucking speak!’ he snarled, but I could hear the nervousness in his voice.
‘And what’s your boss doing while you’re organizing my murder? Running away, like he always does—’
‘I told you to shut up!’ he snapped, and turned back to his task, this time leaning the MAC 10 against the wall in front of him so that he could hunt through the keys more easily.
I remembered the gun in my other pocket. It struck me that in his hurry to get away, Raymond had been very slipshod, and Matthew was obviously no pro. Slowly, I started to reach down into the pocket. At the same time, Matthew found the key he wanted and placed it in the door. He turned round quickly to check what I was doing, and I think he saw that my hand had moved. He started to say something, but suddenly the angry crackle of gunfire came from somewhere outside. Another burst followed, then several individual shots, then through the open front door came the sound of a car reversing rapidly. It seemed Illan had taken my advice. And quickly, too.
Matthew turned and ran towards the door, shouting at me to stay where I was in tones laced with panic. Inexplicably, he left the MAC 10 where it was but continued to clutch the iron bar for dear life, as if the one offered him more protection than the other. I heard him curse as he reached the front entrance. More shots followed, and there was the sound of glass shattering.
Slowly, I forced myself to my feet, shaking my head to try to rid it of the grogginess I felt. I stumbled slightly but kept my balance. The back of my head felt as though it was on fire, but at least I was alive. For now.
I took the gun from my pocket. I’d already released the safety and it was cocked and ready to fire. The car screeched to a halt right outside the front door, kicking up gravel, then there was the sound of another car stopping right behind it. I heard Raymond’s voice, panic-stricken now, then Matthew disappeared from view, screaming his brother’s name. Raymond yelled at him to get back inside and there was the sound of running feet. There were more shots, and from somewhere a scream of pain.
I stopped and took aim at the hall door. A split second later, Matthew came running through it, followed immediately by Raymond. Raymond’s face was covered in tiny cuts. There was no sign of Luke. I didn’t hesitate but opened fire in rapid succession. My first bullet hit Matthew in the face and he flailed backwards, temporarily blocking Raymond as a target. I hit him again in the stomach and upper body, and he and Raymond fell to the floor together.
Almost immediately, a hooded gunman came charging through the doorway, holding a pistol. He turned and swung it in my direction so I kept firing, not
