‘Get back in there,’ the madam told her angrily. ‘Do what you’re paid to do.’
I opened the door another couple of inches as the madam disappeared inside, leaving the door on the latch. I could hear her simultaneously haranguing the girl and apologizing to Sheridan.
I came out of the bathroom, looking towards the staircase just to check that Sheridan’s security weren’t standing there (they weren’t, and if they had been I’d probably have put bullets in them anyway for tolerating what was going on here), and walked straight into the bedroom, gun outstretched.
The madam had the girl, who was naked, by the hair and was giving her an angry talking-to while a half-naked man stood on the other side of a huge bed that probably slept half a dozen, holding a riding crop limply in his hand, looking surprised that his seduction technique wasn’t paying off.
And that was my first big problem.
Because the man wasn’t Alastair Sheridan. It was his partner in crime, Cem Kalaman. And in that moment, two things crossed my mind.
One: I’d been set up. Two: Kalaman had been too.
The last time I’d seen him in the flesh was when he’d turned up at my apartment with a group of his thugs fifteen months earlier. Then he’d been a swaggering presence – the all-powerful crime lord. Now he was just a middle-aged sad case with a potbelly, a flaccid cock, and a face that was a mix of righteous outrage and real fear, but with the fear clearly winning. He dropped the crop and threw his hands in the air, a small, almost feminine gasp escaping his mouth as he realized that his time was up.
I raised the gun, knowing that I would have no problem ending this pervert’s life, but as I took a step forward and pulled the trigger, I saw out of the corner of my eye the madam lunging at me as she screamed for help.
I swung round, not wanting to shoot her if I could help it. She grabbed my gun arm and yanked it to one side, still coming at me. I reacted fast, driving an elbow into her face as she got in range, and stopping her in her tracks. But she was still hanging on to my gun arm. I wrenched it free and pulled her into a headlock, just as the bedroom door flew open and one of Kalaman’s security people appeared in the doorway, armed with a pistol. He saw me and immediately opened fire, the gun making a loud and very distinct retort. I was already firing back – three shots in all, two of which hit him in the upper body, sending him sprawling. At the same time, the madam cried out and went limp in my arms and I realized she’d been hit.
I eased her to the floor, still keeping my eye on the door. I was certain there were at least two bodyguards with Kalaman, potentially more. And if one was armed, the others would be too. Nobody was helping the other guy though, who’d half fallen through the bathroom door and was now lying on his side trying to move, his shirt bloodied.
I took a quick look over my shoulder. I’d hit Kalaman with that first round and he was curled up in the foetal position, clutching his gut and moaning in pain, and for the moment posing no threat. Neither was the young girl, who was crouching unharmed in the corner, away from the shooting.
She gave me a terrified look, clearly thinking I was going to hurt her. I shook my head, hoping she’d get the message that she was safe from me. I was pretty sure the other bodyguard was waiting on the other side of the door for me to show myself, so I crept diagonally across the room, trying to get as good a view out into the hallway as possible without exposing myself to fire.
I could hear more footfalls and shouting coming from downstairs. My shots had been partially muffled by the suppressor, but the shot from the bodyguard would probably have been audible throughout the building. I needed to hurry.
But rushing something like this is a good way to end up dead.
My view of the hallway widened as I moved towards the wall, but not enough for me to see anyone. I could hear my heart beating. This was a bad position to be in, and I had to force myself to resist the urge to just run out of there.
The footfalls were getting closer, and then from the top of the stairs I heard a male voice call out, ‘What the fuck’s going on?’ He was immediately answered by someone very close to the outside of the bedroom door, who called at him to get back.
That was my cue. While the man outside the door was momentarily distracted, I jumped forward, reached my gun hand round the door frame and pulled the trigger three times, moving the arc of the gun with each shot as I tried to hit an unseen target.
I heard a gasp of pain, and a shot rang out, ricocheting through the hallway.
You never want to think too much on occasions like this. I knew I’d hit the other man so I jumped out into the hallway and saw him stumbling backwards towards the staircase and clutching at his arm, the gun no longer visible. Seeing me, he half leapt, half fell against the wall and landed in a heap at the top of the stairs. Somewhere out of sight, I heard the third guy – the one who’d wanted to know what was going on – racing back down the stairs to avoid being the next victim. Luckily for me, it seemed that Kalaman’s bodyguards were a long way off top quality.
I grabbed the discarded gun of the man I’d just
