Simon Kernick - The Murder Exchange

The sight that greeted us was pretty fucking horrible, to say the least. Krys’s hairy and surprisingly large arse viewed us like an angry cyclops from its position on the four-poster bed as it pounded up and down, piston-like, while two shapely legs sprouted out like feelers on either side. It was impossible to see the girl’s face as it was almost completely enveloped by Krys’s furry form. A few locks of blonde hair peeped out over one of his shoulders, and that was about it. I wondered if she could even breathe down there. I looked across at Tugger and he grinned at me beneath the balaclava. I grinned back. I was enjoying this.

The room itself was very flash-looking and worthy of such a high-class establishment. A thick shagpile carpet obscured the sound of our footsteps as Tugger quietly closed the door and we crept up to the bed. Not that it was likely we would have been heard anyway above the noise being made. Krys was grunting like a herd of hungry pigs as he pummelled his way down the home straight, only seconds from the finishing line.

‘Aiiieeeee!’ he wailed in a final flurry of activity, lifting his head up as he unloaded his milky cargo. ‘Ooooofff!’

At that point, two things happened. The girl, her face red and sweaty, courtesy no doubt of being stuck in Krys Holtz’s armpit for the previous five minutes, saw me standing over her. Her eyes widened and she went to scream. At the same time Tugger smacked Krys hard on the back of the head with the handle of his gun. Krys let out a surprised gasp and rolled off the girl, moaning faintly.

I stuck the barrel of the Glock against the girl’s head and told her not to cry out. ‘We’re not interested in hurting you, so if you keep quiet and do not say a word, everything will be fine. If you do cry out or raise the alarm at any point in the next ten minutes, then we will kill you. Understand? Nod once for yes.’ She nodded frantically. ‘Good. Now turn over, put your face into the pillow and be absolutely quiet.’

While I was speaking, Tugger whacked Krys again, just for good measure, before handcuffing his hands behind his back, encountering little resistance from the semi-conscious gangster. The girl did as she was told and I handcuffed her, taking a long second to admire her beautifully rounded rear and ponder the question that has vexed so many observers down the ages: why is the female form so much more attractive than the male? And thinking that maybe Johnny’s girlfriend Amanda had got the right idea.

‘What the fuck’s going on?’ moaned Krys while his eyes made a bad job of trying to focus.

‘Shut the fuck up!’ snapped Tugger, pulling him off the bed by the handcuffs and forcing him to his knees. He gave him a quick smack round the face with the barrel of the gun to establish control. ‘Now, get to your feet. Now!’

‘Fuck off,’ snapped Krys. ‘You know who you’re fucking dealing with?’

‘Course I do, you prick. Now shut it.’

Krys opened his mouth to say something else but I came round the bed, holstering my gun and pulling open a roll of adhesive tape. I bit off a piece and shoved it over his mouth while Tugger held his head still. Krys’s face went red with rage and he started struggling wildly so I kicked him hard in the stomach, doubling him over. It was important to break him quickly so we could get out of the place with the minimum of fuss.

Tugger pulled him up by his hair and we manhandled him to the door. When we reached it, I fished out the keys to the girl’s handcuffs and chucked them on the bed. No point inconveniencing her any more than was necessary. Krys was struggling again, and in his rage he managed to kick the door, making a little bit too much noise for my liking. So I grabbed him by his bollocks and yanked hard. Twice in quick succession. His eyes bulged and I could almost smell his pain. I put my mouth close to his ear. ‘Struggle again and I’ll have the fucking things off,’ I hissed.

He seemed to get the message, and we pulled him out of the door without further incident. Joe was still standing at the end of the corridor next to the stairs, shotgun in hand. He nodded in acknowledgement as we came towards him. Krys turned to me as we walked and his eyes narrowed, the message in them clear. I stared right back, daring him to try anything.

Then, suddenly, it all went wrong.

A door swung open just behind us and a white-haired geezer of at least sixty came out, saw what was going on, and shouted, ‘Oh dear! What on earth’s happening?’ in tones that made you think he half-expected us to turn round and tell him. However, he decided against waiting around for an answer and immediately jumped back into the room, slamming the door behind him. At this point we were ten feet from the stairs, and fifteen from the lift.

Krys, sensing the possibility of rescue, tried to slow up, dragging his heels along the floor, but I tugged on his nuts again while Tugger pushed the barrel of his gun hard against his face. It seemed to do the trick, and this time he didn’t resist as we pushed him right up to the lift entrance. Joe had already called the lift and he pressed the button to open the door. At the same time, out of the corner of my eye, I saw another door open further down the corridor. A second later Big Mick’s naked upper half emerged, wielding a handgun that was pointing in our direction.

There was a deafening roar as Joe pushed us aside and pulled the trigger on the shotgun. A huge chunk of skirting and wall disappeared and Mick leapt back out of sight. We immediately pushed Krys into the lift, and I kneed him hard in the groin to minimize any further disruption. He went down to his knees and I turned and pointed the Glock back down the hall. Big Mick appeared again, his body crouched down, and let off a couple of wild shots. Joe and I held our ground and returned fire, sending dust and skirting flying in all directions. Tugger held on to Krys.

Then, without warning, the door opposite the Lovers Suite flew open and Fitz appeared in view with a revolver in hand, firing wildly in our general direction. A bullet whizzed straight past my head and into the lift, narrowly missing Krys. It hit the full-length mirror at the lift’s rear, shattering it instantly. Taking advantage of the covering fire, Mick also appeared again, firing off another series of rounds. Joe’s shotgun erupted in return, blowing a huge hole in the doorway where Mick’s head had just been, while Fitz was forced to retreat as I unloaded a steady burst of gunfire in his direction. I then jumped to one side and disappeared into the stairwell while Joe retreated into the lift as the doors closed.

I dashed down the first flight of stairs until I was in the second floor stairwell. The lift carrying Krys and the others was going all the way to the ground, and from there they were going straight into the back of the Mercedes van. My job now was to make sure Big Mick and Fitz didn’t get a chance to balls anything up. I ejected the Glock’s magazine and replaced it with a full one, chambering the first round. Above me the door on the next floor up banged open and heavy footfalls came down the stairs. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back so I was leaning against the door that led into the reception area, and raised the gun. Behind me, I could hear people crying out and shouting in the bar, and I hoped Kalinski was calm and ruthless enough to keep a lid on things until it was time for him to go.

Big Mick came crashing into view, dressed only in trousers, almost slipping up in his haste to get down the stairs and intercept the lift before it escaped with his boss. Fitz was right behind him. Mick’s eyes momentarily widened when he saw me, but before he could react I pulled the trigger, holding the gun two-handed.

Mick never had a chance. He took a bullet in the gut, then the chest, then the neck, the force of the rounds knocking him back in the direction of the wall. He tottered for a moment, then fell heavily. Fitz dived out of the way, but I kept shooting, my bullets ricocheting off the carpet and taking chunks out of the paintwork. From his position lying on the stairs, and partially covered by his friend, Fitz returned fire, his bullets passing dangerously close. But I stayed calm, adjusted my aim, and hit him in the shoulder and chest as he sat up and tried to get a better shot at me. He fell back down again with hardly a sound, and I turned and charged through the door and into the reception area. Kalinski was already retreating out of the bar, his weapon trained on the spot where I appeared. I gave him the thumbs up and the two of us went back into the stairwell where the bodies of Fitz and Big Mick lay sprawled above us, their blood mingling as it dribbled onto the carpet. Kalinski paused for a moment to view the men who’d almost certainly helped to murder his brother.