Robert Young - Gatecrasher

The tall man, without a look back, disappeared from the room and began to move down the hall and Sarah and the other woman exchanged a glance of bewildered terror. She wanted to run now too, to get away from this cold bare room and its filthy walls, away from these people. But she was frozen there, listening, a hostage to her fear.

Campbell was bouncing up the stairs now, stooped slightly forward to keep his balance. He stole a glance over his shoulder at the scene behind him.

The man in the coat with the handgun was rolling the bleeding, lifeless body from his legs and was turning now toward the stairs, raising the gun.

Campbell heard that terrible pop again and he felt, rather than saw, the second of his captors flung forward and down against the steep stairs behind him. In three more huge strides he was at the top and bounding along the hallway.

Careering around the corner he crunched clumsily against the wall and was suddenly face to face with Walker. He froze for a moment, uncertain of what to do. His overriding instinct was to get to Sarah but here he stood, between a rock and a hard place.

Walker looked at him questioningly but before he could speak there was a shout from behind and he span to see the gunman cresting the stairs and calling his name.

For a second Campbell was confused, shocked that this new man should know his name. Walker had heard the shout too and had suddenly flattened himself against the wall. Campbell looked back at the gunman, the barrel being swung up toward him, and he bolted out of sight around the corner and past Walker, instinct overriding reason.

Now Campbell moved back along the hall to the room that held Sarah and Angie and he turned again to check his back. Suddenly, as the gunman burst round the corner he was pounced on by Walker who grabbed the wrist of his gun-hand and pushed it high into the air and the two of them slammed against the far wall and began to wrestle.

With a push, his heavy coat flapping up around him, the gunman managed to swing a fist at Walker but the tall slender frame absorbed the punch. He kept his feet and flashed a knee up into the gunman’s ribs.

Again they fell onto each other and Campbell could see the gun waving around above both their heads as they struggled with the weapon. Rolling along the wall as they fought, Campbell watched as suddenly the door they fell against crashed open and the two men went tumbling through into the room beyond.

Campbell found the door he was looking for and rushed in. The two of them were huddled into the corner as if trying to put every possible inch of space between them and the noises they were hearing and both looked terrified. They stared up at him for a moment frozen, bewildered.

‘Come on!’ he barked, ‘NOW!’

In the rising tension Slater had forgotten the cold and very nearly also the pain in his head so focused was he on the house.

Keane, sitting next to him, rubbing his hands and glancing every so often at the red stained tea towel that Slater had hurriedly wrapped round his head, evidently had forgotten neither. He sat forward and tried to peer through the gloom at the front of the house but there was nothing to tell from here. There was silence and nothing moved at the house or anywhere else in this street.

‘You think we should call George back? Might be worth sticking our head round the door now,’ Keane said but the apprehension in his voice gave him away.

The both of them were torn. The wait was agonising and they were itching to get involved, but they had no idea how many men were in there and seeing Drennan and Tyler go bursting in had done nothing for their confidence. If those two had their own agenda now there was no telling how they would react to seeing Slater and Keane follow them in.

‘He’ll ring back,’ Slater replied flatly. He was struggling with his emotions now and knew that he shared Keane’s reluctance to get involved and the probable risks they would be facing. Drennan looked like he was armed when he had burst in through the door and he had dealt with Walker’s boys enough times to know that they were dangerous even when they weren’t carrying.

Even so, it was Angie stuck in there in the middle of it. All of them had an affection for her. More than once Slater had felt a big-brotherly compulsion to sort out some disrespectful young lad only to find that Angie had dealt with him more than capably. Slater also had a burning desire to get his hands on Campbell again, to hit him and hit him until he’d handed over the stick and then begged and then cried and then bled.

Slater felt though, through the fury, a strange feeling toward Campbell developing. A certain grudging respect. Slater had dealt with plenty of people far harder than the young man, far tougher and more ruthless individuals, but none, he thought, so resilient, so resourceful, so pig-headedly determined as he was. He just didn’t know when he was beaten. As much as he wanted to knock him about, he couldn’t ignore that in Campbell. If Keane or Cooper had shown some of his nous they’d never be in this shit in the first place.

‘Get a bit closer,’ Slater said.

Keane slipped the car into gear and rolled quietly away from the kerb and along the road. Back in the shadows where they had been hiding their view was poor. Slater didn’t much want to go in there but he they needed to get a better view, and besides, they couldn’t sit around waiting for too much longer.

Pulling level with the front of the house Keane slowed to a crawl to get a good look. The front door was open but only a crack, seemingly having swung closed behind Drennan and Tyler on their dramatic entry. Light shone from the hallway beyond but he could see no shadows giving signs of movement.

He turned his head quickly to check the road was still clear in front of him and when he turned back he thought he spotted something in the light of the doorway, some shift of shadows to betray activity inside. He grabbed Keane’s arm and the other man tapped the brakes and the car stopped.

In a blaze of light the door crashed open and three running figures filled the frame. Slater stared in astonishment as they came racing down the path and as they dashed into the road he realised that he recognised Angie; tired and gaunt looking but Angie nonetheless. He saw that she had spotted his car and was shepherding the other two toward it. He noticed then that all three had their hands tied.

The rear door popped open as Angie span round to reach the handle with her hands and then all three were falling into the seat, shifting and bumping awkwardly across the leather. Angie was last in.

‘Go!’ she shrieked. ‘Fucking go!’

But Keane didn’t need to be told twice and already he was waking up the neighbours with the engine growling noisily and the tyres squealing away down the road.

Tuesday. 2.30am.

There was menace in the room from every corner and Sarah’s eyes were wide and darting.

Slater in the corner, all forearms and fury, looked ready to spring across the carpet and start pounding him to the floor as if giving him the slip outside in Liverpool Street all those days ago was still as fresh in his mind as the wound on his temple.

The other two were somehow less frightening. The coloured man, Campbell noted, was a laid back character and seemed delighted at the look on Gresham’s face when they had brought his daughter back to him. The other man, the driver, seemed more concerned with Slater than with him and had barely spoken a word to anybody since they’d poured themselves chaotically into the back of the car. This did little to reassure him.

Gresham for his part had not let Angie go since he had engulfed her in a bear hug ten minutes previously and he did not look as if he would let her go ever again. He did though, and all too soon.