‘It’s my laptop, you moron,’ she retorted, anger giving her words added venom. ‘You’re not having this, gun or no gun. It cost me too much.’
Szulu pulled an incredulous face. ‘You what? You think I’ve come here to steal your precious laptop? Where the fuck you get that idea? You think I’m some cheap crack-head?’ He blew out a mouthful of air, hugely indignant. ‘Cheeky bitch!’
A sound came from the kitchen, and Szulu spun round, dragging the gun with him. ‘Who’s that? Come out here!’
The cat edged past the door frame and looked at him. Instantly sensing danger, it arched its back and bared its teeth, hissing at Szulu like a high-pressure steam valve. Szulu lowered the gun to cover the perceived threat, his finger tightening involuntarily on the trigger. There was a loud click and he swore angrily and stared at the gun in dismay. ‘Shit!’
‘No!’ Horrified at the idea that he would shoot the cat — even by reflex — Riley hurled the laptop with all her strength, aiming for Szulu’s face. It connected to the side of his head with a sickening smack before tumbling to the floor with a crash. Momentarily stunned, Szulu let go of the gun. It landed on the tip of the barrel, spun in the air, then hit the floor again and skittered towards Riley, ending up at her feet. Szulu, clutching his face and cursing, seemed to have temporarily forgotten the weapon, and blundered about the room, disorientated.
Fuelled by a mixture of fury and fear on behalf of the cat, which had disappeared back into the kitchen, Riley scooped up the gun in one smooth movement. Coming up to a half crouch, she steadied her knees the way she had seen on television and cupped her right hand with her left, supporting the weight of the gun. She was surprised by how light it was, and how warm to the touch after Szulu’s hand.
She lifted the gun and peered down the short barrel at Szulu’s face, now turned towards her with a growing expression of horror. If she hadn’t been so scared, it would have been comic. He raised one hand and shook it frantically at her, palm outward to ward off the inevitable.
‘No, lady — don’t do that!’
‘Why not?’ Riley felt a sudden release of anger. A part of her brain wanted to give way to logic and reason, and listen to the tiny echo that was Palmer’s voice, telling her why shooting someone was such a bad thing, why it was easy to do yet so hard to live with. But a greater part wanted to feel the trigger move beneath the deliberate pressure of her finger, wanted to feel the recoil and see the barrel jump, and witness the man in front of her realise that he had taken a step too far and with the wrong person; that there were consequences to forcing your way into someone’s home and threatening them. She felt the pressure give way as the trigger moved. God, it was going to be so easy…
Then Szulu’s face changed and his eyes shifted to a point just over her shoulder. A scuff of movement came from behind her and a powerful hand moved past her shoulder, clamping down on hers and gently but firmly forcing the gun away until it was pointing at the floor.
‘Easy does it.’ It was John Mitcheson, the familiar smell of him suddenly close by, his presence enveloping her like a soft, warm blanket. She allowed him to take the gun away, and felt herself moved gently aside until he was standing in front of Szulu, the gun by his side. He looked tanned and fit, taller than Szulu by a few inches, dominating the room without trying.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Szulu demanded indignantly. ‘Did you see that? The bitch was going to shoot me!’ He pointed a trembling finger at Riley, apparently forgetting that he had been the first to pull the trigger after bursting in uninvited.
‘Really?’ Mitcheson looked down at the gun. ‘Funny. I thought I heard it misfire.’
‘Yeah. Piece of junk — I should get my money back!’ Szulu edged backwards, eyes searching for an escape route now things had gone so badly wrong.
Mitcheson looked up and stopped him with a warning shake of his head, then worked the slide on the gun with an expert hand. The unused shell spun through the air and landed with barely a noise on the carpet. ‘Semi-automatics, you see,’ he said in a conversational tone. ‘They do have a tendency to jam sometimes. You just have to be quick to clear them, that’s all. Especially if you’re facing a live threat.’ He looked at Szulu as if to check that he was paying attention. ‘The second round usually works fine, though, if you’re lucky. Like this.’
He calmly pointed the gun at Szulu and shot him.
Chapter 23
Palmer stepped cautiously over a patch of nettles and ducked through a gap in the wire fence to the commercial estate. He was now behind the VTS Transit unit, just a few feet away from the incinerator drum. A wisp of smoke was curling lazily into the air, which was heavy with the smell of petrol and scorched paper.
Twenty minutes had passed since the last sign of movement between the two buildings, and there had been no sounds of activity from the front. It was difficult to be certain from here, but Palmer guessed the VTS building was now deserted.
He stepped past a stack of metal storage bins and stood alongside the rear door. There were no shouts of alarm, so he tried the door. It was unlocked. He eased it open and glanced inside. Nothing. No voices, no movement, just a scattering of packaging, pallets, waste paper and clutter, and the unmistakable echo of an empty building.
He closed the door again and walked across the yard to the drum. A wave of heat was still coming from inside, but there were no flames and whatever effect the accelerant had possessed was now spent. The bottom of the drum held a shifting mass of ashes and scorched paper, with some of the print showing silver and still readable against the grey background. He picked up a length of wooden batten. Digging into the mass inside the drum, he felt something solid under the topmost layer. But as he disturbed the contents, the passage of air fanned the smouldering ashes and flames sprang up once more, feeding on the untouched paper beneath.
Palmer stepped back and kicked over the drum, spilling the contents across the concrete in a shower of burning paper, smoke and sparks. With the batten, he hooked out the largest object, a bundle of documents dumped inside by Romper Suit. Isolating the wedge of papers, he bent to peer at them. From what he could already see, there appeared to be ample evidence tying SkyPrint to the VTS operation. Whether it would be enough to bring it to a court case would be for others to determine.
Satisfied that the papers were in no danger of re-igniting, he picked up a discarded Tesco bag caught on the corner of a pallet and stuffed them inside. Then he left the bundle in the long grass by the fence to the council depot and returned to the building to investigate further.
Inside, a couple of sparrows, startled by the sound of his footsteps, swooped beneath the metal rafters and disappeared out of the door, their wing-beats loud in the silence. Palmer was grateful for their presence, since it was a sign that nobody else was here.
He checked the office at the front of the building. Whoever had cleared it out had left nothing but an array of paperwork, low-value office equipment and rubbish. Even the walls were bare of evidence that anyone had worked here. As he turned to leave, he heard the rattle of a door handle, and voices at the front of the building. He glanced out of the window.
Radnor.
Palmer moved quickly. There was nowhere to hide in the office, and he prayed he had enough time to get out the back door. But even as he hurried towards the rear of the warehouse, he heard a voice from the back yard and the sound of footsteps approaching.
‘The rubbish bin’s fallen over. Probably kids.’
Palmer swore silently. Now he was well and truly snookered. He went to the only place available, the caged area, and slipped through the door. Against one wall was a pile of cardboard packaging, unused cardboard boxes and broken lathes of wood. He dived to the floor and pulled the packaging over him. If they were here to move this lot, he was stuffed. Seconds later, the sound of footsteps converged on the centre of the warehouse.