Robert Young - Gatecrasher

Campbell and Sarah were sat on two straight-backed chairs in the corner where Keane and Slater had parked them minutes before. As yet Slater had held back from laying into him though he had not exactly been gentle manhandling Campbell from the car to the house. He seemed to be waiting for a cue from his boss.

Gresham walked slowly toward Campbell, eyeing him and Sarah both with exaggerated interest as if to highlight their compromised position. He looked from Campbell to Slater’s head and back again and raised his eyebrows. He had been waiting for this moment, Campbell knew, and he was milking it.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’ said Gresham with a wolfish grin.

Campbell’s cheeks flushed at the implied threat.

Gresham stared down at Sarah and Campbell stared up at him in turn as he did so.

‘Is that the best you can do?’

Gresham looked more surprised than Campbell to hear Sarah speak, and more so at the defiant, almost mocking tone of her voice.

‘You what?’ Gresham said.

‘You heard her George you fucking bully.’ Campbell couldn’t stop the words before he’d said them.

In a flash, Gresham had him pinned by to the wall, his sweater bunched on his chest in two huge fists.

‘You, my son, have got a big mouth and a small brain.’ Gresham was right in his face, lips curled in a snarl, eyes narrowed.

‘Stop it.’

Campbell saw his eyes flicker before he realised that it wasn’t Sarah’s voice.

‘Stop it Dad,’ Angie repeated.

‘You can leave now love,’ Gresham said without taking his eyes off Campbell.

‘Listen to your daughter George,’ Campbell said, returning the steady gaze. He had seen and heard the gratitude from Angie as she had spoken to them and to the other men in the car now she had spoken up for him against her father.

Gresham’s face was burning deep red now and sweat was beading on his brow. He gripped Campbell’s sweater tighter in his hands pulled him away from the wall and then slammed him back against it.

‘You fucking owe me one George,’ Campbell shouted, even as the wind was knocked out of him. Gresham paused and his grip eased just a tiny amount. He bent close to Campbell’s ear as he bowed his head and tried to get his breath.

‘What?’ he hissed.

Coughing, Campbell said, ‘You owe me. You owe me for her.’

Gresham said nothing for a second and Campbell, suddenly enraged, reached up and tore Gresham’s hands away from him, shoved the bigger man back from him violently.

‘Come on George. You were fucked! You had no idea where she was or how to get her back,’ Campbell shouted. ‘Those two were sat outside doing nothing. I got her out of that house George. Ask her what happened. Go on. I went back in there and got her out with me.’

Gresham stayed silent, part of him amazed at the younger man’s behaviour, part of him thinking reluctantly that perhaps he had a point. He turned and looked at Angie who stayed silent but whose eyes gave Gresham the answer that Campbell wanted.

‘You guys have no clue what this is about. Nothing. You know why you stole that data? Who it was for?’ Campbell looked around the room. He saw hard angry eyes looking back at him but no answers. He shook his head. ‘Not a clue.’

‘Who gives a shit?’ Gresham said suddenly. ‘Who the fuck are you anyway? Who cares why and who for? They’re paying me sunshine. Paying cash which I happen to need.’

Campbell was shaking his head. ‘Not anymore.’

‘Come again?’ Slater finally broke his silence. ‘George, we’ve heard enough of this haven’t we?’

Campbell was still shaking his head but he was looking Gresham right in the eye again, level, confident. ‘You don’t. You don’t have a debt. This guy, Walker? He’s dead George. I saw some bloke sticking a gun into his chest.’

Gresham returned the stare, his eyes daring Campbell to even consider lying to him.

‘I saw the gun shoved into his ribs as we were running down the hall. They were fighting in the room and I saw the other guy with his gun on top of your man Walker. And I heard the shots. Two.’

‘You see him get shot?’

Campbell hesitated. ‘It was half a second after I turned my head George, a tenth of a second. He’s dead.’

Gresham turned his head slowly to look at Slater. Both men stared silently at each other for a long moment. Though they said nothing, Campbell sensed that they might actually believe him.

‘So what then? You trying to tell me you’re keeping the memory stick?’ Gresham said turning back to him.

‘You owe me one for Angie George. You owe me a favour.’

‘My favour will be to not give you a proper belting and stop him from tearing your head off.’ Gresham said jabbing a finger in Slater’s direction.

‘No George,’ said Campbell, staring over Gresham’s shoulder. ‘No, you can do me a little job.’

‘Are you fucking mad son?’

He looked back at George Gresham and smiled.

‘Hear me out. Just give me ten minutes.’

‘This better be really good.’

‘She goes home. OK?’ Campbell pointed at Sarah. ‘She’s got nothing to do with this and you lot have got no gripe with her. Take her home. Just me and you George. Ten minutes and I promise you, it will be worth it. We’ll be all square. Just me and you.’

Gresham stared at him for a long time, intent and thoughtful. He waved away a protest from Slater and then turned to Warren. ‘Do it. Take her home.’

Sarah looked frightened and turned to Campbell but he shook his head and looked her in the eye. ‘It’s alright. I’ll be fine. They won’t do anything. Not while we still have the stick.’

Warren stood and opened the door for Sarah who walked nervously through. Angie stood as well. ‘I’ll come along too if it makes you feel better. Jules is a pussycat anyway but still…’ Sarah seemed to appreciate the presence of the other woman and they all left the room.

‘Keano. Go home. It's late. Keith, you stay.’ Gresham said, his gaze still on Campbell.

Keane made to protest but Gresham turned and silenced him with a look. Keane trudged dejectedly out the door. Gresham turned back to Campbell. ‘Keith stays. You convince us both.’

So Campbell explained it all to them; how they were being used, why and by whom. He told them what he had learned since Cooper had landed bleeding on his kitchen floor and they listened intently, surprised and enthralled at Campbell’s tale. He told them how they would get paid twice over. How Drennan, or whoever else it was they had contact with, would pay them their money, that they could make much more for themselves on top of this, and exactly how they would do it.

Campbell told them all that he knew exactly what he was going to do next, exactly how this would all end.

Tuesday. 12pm.

The first thing to do, Gresham knew, would be to call Walker. They would have to find out for sure if what Campbell was saying were true.

Had George not been so anxious himself, he might have noticed the sweat on Campbell’s brow as he dialled the Gangster’s number. It would not be unusual of course to get one of Walker’s men on the line instead given the late hour and the fact that as one of the capital’s foremost violent criminals, he might be attending to some other important business. Even so, Gresham was no more reassured by the fact that no-one answered Walker’s phone, despite what that signified and despite the fact that after what had gone on earlier that night at Walker’s safe house, Gresham was probably the first person that Walker would have called on.

They had no more joy when they instead tried to call Drennan.

Soon Gresham concluded that if Campbell was wrong and Walker was still alive then they would know soon enough when he got in touch again. The hour was not so much late now as it was early. It would be starting to grow light soon and Gresham was, like all of them, exhausted.