"The old woman," he said, turning back to Ellman. "She's coming round."
"Tie her up," Ellman said. "Get her out the way."
As O'Neil nodded and headed off down the hallway, I had to force myself not to say anything, not to do anything ... not to give in to the murder in my heart.
I looked at Ellman. He was just sitting there now, smoking a cigarette, staring at nothing, his face a mask of concentration ...
I glanced over at Lucy. Blood from the cut on her face had dripped onto her nightgown, and her face was pale and frightened, but as she looked back at me in the silence, I could see a hidden strength in her eyes, some kind of faith ... a belief that, despite everything that had happened — and everything that was happening and could possibly happen — we'd both get out of this in the end.
She truly believed it.
I smiled at her, trying to show her that I shared her belief.
Even though I didn't.
"It's a shame," Ellman said.
I looked at him. "What?"
He sighed. "You and me ... we could really have been something together. With your powers and my experience ... I mean, fuck Crow Town, we could have had anywhere we wanted. We could have made fucking millions ..." He looked disdainfully at me. "But you could never do it, could you? You're too fucking weak. Too fucking righteous." He shook his head. "No, I couldn't work with that. It'd drive me mad." He sighed. "Like I said, it's a shame ... but business is business." He smiled at me. "That's all it is, you know ... all this ... the old woman, the bitch over there ... you ... it's all just business."
I didn't even bother looking at him.
He sniffed. "Yeah, well ... we'd best get on with it." He stood up and called out, "Yo? You finished in there?"
O'Neil called back from Gram's room, "Yeah, just a minute ..."
"What you doing?"
"Nothing, just looking around ..."
"Leave it. We're going."
"There's some nice stuff in here. Laptops, jewellery —"
"I said fucking leave it!" Ellman barked. Then he turned to Tweet. "Call Gunner, make sure we're clear, then check the corridor."
Tweet pulled a phone from his pocket, hit a button, and went out into the hallway. I listened in to the call and tracked it to another mobile in the square down below, somewhere near the entrance to the tower. Yeah?
We're coming out. Everything all right?
Yeah, it's quiet.
"Get up," Ellman said to me.
I got up.
Tweet came back in. "It's all clear."
Ellman nodded. "You go first. Hash, you follow him." He turned to O'Neil, who was standing in the doorway. "You follow Hash, OK?"
O'Neil nodded.
Ellman said to me, "You follow Yo. Understand?"
"Yeah."
"I'll be right behind you. Hash?"
"Yeah?" Hashim said.
"How's it going with that gun?"
"My fucking hand hurts."
Ellman said to me, "You hear that? His hand hurts. It's been taped to the gun for about an hour now, so his finger's probably getting a bit numb. It won't take much for him to pull the trigger. And it'll be your fault if he does. You got that?"
"Yeah, I've got it."
"All right, let's go."
10110
Here are comedy and tragedy... Here is melodrama ... Here are unvarnished emotions. Here also is a primitive democracy that cuts through all the conventional social and racial discriminations. The gang, in short, is life ...
It was 03:15:52 when we left the flat and walked down the corridor to the lift. There was no one around. The tower felt cold and empty. An early-morning silence pervaded the air, adding to the sense of emptiness, and the sound of our footsteps echoed dully in the stillness. As we approached the lift — which had been jammed open with an iron bar — I wondered if this was going to be my final journey ...
My final time in this corridor.
My final time in the lift.
My final time in the concrete splendour of good old Compton House.
I smiled to myself, thinking — well, it could have been a lot worse, couldn't it? Of course, it could have been a whole lot better too ...
As we got into the lift and the doors closed, I glanced at Lucy. The picnic we'd had just a few hours earlier seemed to belong to a different world now, a world that existed a thousand years ago. And while, at the time, it had felt like the beginning of something between me and Lucy, it was now starting to feel like it was all there was ever going to be: the beginning, the middle, the end. But even so, if this was to be my final journey — our final journey — that brief time we'd shared on the roof together would still be the best time of my life.
Yeah, I thought, smiling at Lucy, it could have been a whole lot worse.
"What are you smiling about?" Hashim sneered at me.
I looked at him. "Not much. Just thinking how lucky I am, that's all."
"Lucky?" he said, shaking his head. "You fucking freak."
As the lift reached the ground floor, I said to Ellman, "What have you done with Lucy's mum and her brother?"
He didn't say anything, he didn't even bother looking at me. He just waited, his eyes taking in everything, as Tweet checked out the ground floor, making sure there was no one around. Then, after a signal from Tweet, Ellman gave Hashim the nod, and Hashim moved out of the lift with Lucy. O'Neil followed them. Ellman looked at me, jerking his head, and I followed O'Neil, with Ellman close behind me.
Outside the tower, two black Range Rovers with tinted windows were waiting by the doors.
Now that I was sure we were leaving the tower, I sent the text that I'd already written in my head to the local police and ambulance services. The text read:
URGENT!!! PLEASE HELP!!! MS CONNIE HARVEY, AGED 54, HAS BEEN ATTACKED AND HAS SUFFERED A SERIOUS HEAD INJURY. SHE NEEDS IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION. SHE HAS BEEN TIED UP AND LEFT IN HER ROOM BY UNKNOWN ASSAILANTS AT FLAT 4, 23RD FLOOR, COMPTON HOUSE, CROW LANE ESTATE, CROW LANE, LONDON SE15 6CG. MRS MICHELLE WALKER AND HER SON BEN MAY ALSO NEED ASSISTANCE AT FLAT 6 ON 3oTH FLOOR. THIS IS NOT A HOAX. PLEASE HURRY.
The two Range Rovers both had their engines running. While Tweet and Hashim and Lucy headed for the one in front, Ellman told me to follow O'Neil to the other one. I watched over my shoulder as Hashim and Lucy got awkwardly into the back of the first one, with Tweet getting into the front passenger's seat, then Ellman opened the back door of our Range Rover and told me to get in.
I got in.
He got in beside me.
O'Neil sat in the front passenger seat.
The guy in the driver's seat had his hood up, and all I could see of his face in the rear-view mirror was a pair of dark glasses and a raggedy twist of beard on his chin. From his phone records, I knew that he was Gunner.
"All right?" he grunted at Ellman.
Ellman ignored him, watching the car in front pull away. Then he just said, "Go."
We turned right out of Compton and headed south along Crow Lane, both cars cruising along at a steady 4omph — not fast enough to get stopped, not too slow to attract attention. Ellman lit a cigarette and leaned back in his seat, looking totally relaxed and at ease. I gazed out through the window for a while, watching the estate pass by — the kids' playground, the low-rises, the towers ... Fitzroy House, Gladstone, Heath. There were a few people around — some gang kids hanging around the towers, one or two passing cars — but they might as well have been on another planet for all the good they were to me. I didn't need telling again that Hashim would shoot Lucy if I tried anything. So I gave up thinking about it.