It might have been the rain, and the maintenance on the pool cars was worse than last year when it had been worse than the year before, but it took Leo Blake an age to start the damned engine. He sat in his car and revved, long enough for the curtain behind him to part, and he saw Mrs. Fairbrother scowling at him. Bloody car, and he'd have some bloody words for the maintenance people… Bill Davies burst the door open into the living room. The advertisements were playing between the soaps. The machine-gun dangled free on its strap and thudded against his body. He was shouting. They sat frozen. Perry was in his chair holding his coffee mug, Meryl had her needlework on her lap, Stephen was on the floor with his computer game. He was shouting, and they did not respond, and he was shouting louder. He grabbed his principal and hauled him up from the chair and the coffee flew in the air and down to the carpet. He was dragging his principal, helpless, like a sack of sand, out into the hall. The radio was blasting in his earpiece, and she hadn't come and neither had the kid. He snatched open the door of the cupboard under the staircase and pitched his principal inside. Perry cannoned against the vacuum cleaner, the brooms, the boots, the kid's old push chair and the junk. He went back, shouldn't have done, for her and the kid, broke the drill they practised. The principal should have been his only priority. He caught her arm and the kid's wrist she was screaming, and the kid and he threw them in the cupboard against his principal. He crouched by the door. God, if they would just stop screaming… Joe Paget stayed at the console and watched the screen. Dave Rankin ducked out of the Wendy house, launched himself on to the lawn, rolled, then crawled towards the kitchen door and the cover of the water-butt. Each had the selector off safety, had gone to single-shot, each had one in the breach, each had the finger on the trigger guard. Joe Paget told Dave Rankin, face microphone to earpiece, that the Tango was out of the beams, off camera. Where was the bastard? Where the fuck was he?… Leo Blake was going down the drive when he switched on the radio. He heard the chaos on the net, and the gravel spewed out from under his… Bill Davies had his principal buried deep in the cupboard and the kid was in there behind him. But the woman was still screaming. He held her, he had to. With one hand he aimed his machine-gun at the front door, with the other hand he clutched her to him. He held her against his chest to stifle the screaming, and she sobbed hopelessly… Joe Paget said that the Tango had gone up the side of the house, would be on the neighbour's patch, and the front was not covered. Dave Rankin swore, said he'd try to cover the front. His breath was heaving and, to Joe Paget, he was damn bloody close to going incoherent. Coming across him and Dave Rankin was Bill Davies crying out for cover at the front, and the woman's sobs were across everything. And the unmarked car at the main road was playing bolshie and saying they weren't supposed to move off station, and the unmarked car that was cruising was more than two minutes… Leo Blake came round the corner by the village hall and, with the green ahead of him, had to swerve to miss an old man with a terrier. Bill Davies heard the shoulder hammer into the front door where there was a new lock and an old bolt, and held his hand over her mouth and tried to muffle the sobbing that would pinpoint for the Tango where they were. The door sagged… (.. Dave Rankin fell into the cold frame at the side of the house, crashed through the glass, sprawled and lost the momentum of his charge… Leo Blake drove straight across the grass of the green, wheels spinning, skidding, hit a young tree and flattened it with its post. He swung his wheel and had the front of the house in his full lights, and saw him… Bill Davies heard the door splintering… For a flickering moment, Joe Paget saw him again, white against grey, then lost him as the car's lights blacked out his screen… Leo Blake had the Tango in his lights. He could see the man's camouflage combat gear, his mud-smeared face, and the assault rifle. The man, as if it was his final desperate effort, threw his weight against the door. Blake shared the Heckler amp; Koch with Davies, and now only had the Glock in a shoulder holster. He'd forgotten it, its presence there was clean out of his mind. He dazzled the Tango with his lights. The Tango had the rifle up, aiming towards the car, but couldn't see through the lights. Blake knew the rifle, had fired the same weapon on the range, knew its killing power. He thought his last best chance was to charge the man with the lights on full beam. The Tango thrust an arm over his blinded eyes, then ran. The man sprinted, full stride, along the track in front of the houses. There was a moment when the back of the Tango was in front of the car, and then the man tried to sidestep towards the cover of a hedge. Clutching the wheel, Leo Blake felt the jolt as he clipped the Tango, and he was past him. The car surged on, spun, turned the full circle. Leo Blake saw, lying on the grass, the Kalashnikov. He switched off the engine. He tried to be calm, to report what he had done, what he had seen..
(.. Bill Davies held the woman, his hand still over her mouth. The sound of bitter argument on the soap played from the living room through the hall and into the cupboard. He said it was all right, he said it was over, and he realized that he had no shoes on… Joe Paget sat motionless in front of his console and watched the green lights of the unbroken beams… Far away, Dave Rankin heard the splinter crack of a fence breaking, as if it were rotten and gave under the weight of a man. He walked out of the front garden and across the grass to the Kalashnikov, cleared it and made it safe… Leo Blake sat in his car and tried to slow the beating of his heart. He put the window down, for air, and the stench came to him, from the hedge, of old stagnant mud… (.. Bill Davies took his hand from Meryl Perry's mouth… Dear Geoffrey, It was good to see you in person and hear you at first hand -if we had any doubts about your suitability or your readiness to take responsibility then you most decisively struck them out.
My colleague and I are, therefore, very pleased to be able to offer you employment with the bank. You would start in our Pensions/ Investment section where we would monitor your progress before deciding where in our operations you would sit most comfortably. Our Human Resources section is currently drafting a letter setting out a proposed salary structure along with bonus emoluments, which you will receive on Monday. If they are acceptable please let me know when you can start with us the sooner the better as far as we are concerned. We would wish you to resign from your present employment at the earliest opportunity.
Sincerely,
The letter was under her buttocks.
It was Vicky's reward.
It was creased and crumpled, and her thighs gripped his waist and her ankles locked against the small of his back.
The drink made her noisy.
She had cooked for the two of them, something Mexican. His absence at lunch with her mother was forgiven, and she'd drunk most of the bottle he'd brought round. Shyly he had shown her the letter that had lain unopened all day in his briefcase. She had left the plates, the empty glasses and the finished bottle on the table, and taken him and his letter to her bed.