Read Online The Last 10 Seconds by Simon Kernick - Free Book Online
Authors: Simon Kernick
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thought I saw Grimes go down in a heap, just before Cleaver Man dropped his cleaver, which landed blade-first in the filthy linoleum flooring. He then grabbed at his wounded leg with two huge hands and let out an animal howl so loud that it roared through my deafness. He stumbled forward, towards me, and I fired again, a last shot that took him just above the knee in the other leg, and this time he fell hard to the floor.
‘No one move!’ I shouted, swinging the gun from left to right.
Grimes was down and clutching his belly, so I guessed he’d taken a hit there; Cleaver Man was pawing at his legs; and the young guy in the cap, who’d now lost his cap, had one hand on his balls, the other stretched out in front of him in a gesture of surrender, his face crumpled in pain.
I turned the gun on Mitchell, who’d once again reappeared, but this time with his hands in the air, a very sober expression on his face, and his knife nowhere to be seen. ‘OK, mon, OK. Take it easy now.’
Still panting, I stood up, moving the gun round so that it kept everyone covered, my heart hammering in my chest as I began to come to terms with what I’d just done. I’d never fired a gun in anger in my life, but now I’d crossed a line, and there was no going back.
‘I’m not a copper, all right?’ I told Mitchell. ‘I’m not a fucking copper. Do you understand?’
‘Sure, mon. OK. No problem.’
I picked up the holdall. ‘I’m going to walk out of here, and I want that to be the end of it. You’ve got your money, and I’ve got my guns, so we’re both happy. OK?’
‘Sure, mon, sure.’
‘He’s a cop,’ hissed Grimes through gritted teeth, the agony on his long face almost making me feel sorry for him.
‘Shut the fuck up, arsehole!’ yelled Mitchell, who’d clearly had enough of this particular strand of conversation.
Still keeping the gun trained on all of them, I backed out of the room, then as soon as I was out of sight I stuffed the gun in my jeans and ran for it, unlocking the door and feeling a desperate relief as I got back out on the street.
I sprinted all the way back to the car, checking my watch as I did so. Eight minutes. That was how long the whole thing had taken, and now my life had changed dramatically and irreversibly.
‘What’s happened?’ demanded Tommy as I jumped in the passenger side and threw the holdall in the back, narrowly missing Tommy Junior.
‘Just drive. Now.’
The engine was already running and he pulled away in a screech of tyres. ‘Talk to me, Sean,’ he said as we turned on to the Barking Road, heading back into town. ‘What happened in there?’
‘We had a disagreement,’ I said at last, the adrenalin still pumping through me. ‘I got the guns but one of them accused me of being an undercover copper, things got a bit heated, so I shot him. And one of his mates.’ As I spoke the words, the whole thing seemed utterly surreal. I still couldn’t believe I’d done it.
Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘Not Mitchell. Tell me you didn’t shoot that loon Mitchell.’
‘No, he’s still standing. Don’t worry.’
‘And the blokes you shot. Are they dead?’
I shook my head. ‘They’ll need patching up, though.’
For a couple of seconds Tommy didn’t say anything, and I wondered if I’d blown it. But then he hit the steering wheel and burst into a fit of loud, throaty laughter. ‘Christ, Sean, you’re like some sort of ice man! I can’t believe you popped two of Mitchell’s people. Wolfe’ll be tearing his hair out!’
He clapped me on the shoulder, staring at me with an expression that looked dangerously close to admiration. And I knew then that, although it might have cost me my career, at least now I was one of them.
Eight
It was at exactly 1.15 p.m., and with the images of the Night Creeper’s brutal murders still fresh in her mind, that Tina took her seat in the interview room with DCI MacLeod to begin the final stage of Andrew Kent’s
‘No one move!’ I shouted, swinging the gun from left to right.
Grimes was down and clutching his belly, so I guessed he’d taken a hit there; Cleaver Man was pawing at his legs; and the young guy in the cap, who’d now lost his cap, had one hand on his balls, the other stretched out in front of him in a gesture of surrender, his face crumpled in pain.
I turned the gun on Mitchell, who’d once again reappeared, but this time with his hands in the air, a very sober expression on his face, and his knife nowhere to be seen. ‘OK, mon, OK. Take it easy now.’
Still panting, I stood up, moving the gun round so that it kept everyone covered, my heart hammering in my chest as I began to come to terms with what I’d just done. I’d never fired a gun in anger in my life, but now I’d crossed a line, and there was no going back.
‘I’m not a copper, all right?’ I told Mitchell. ‘I’m not a fucking copper. Do you understand?’
‘Sure, mon. OK. No problem.’
I picked up the holdall. ‘I’m going to walk out of here, and I want that to be the end of it. You’ve got your money, and I’ve got my guns, so we’re both happy. OK?’
‘Sure, mon, sure.’
‘He’s a cop,’ hissed Grimes through gritted teeth, the agony on his long face almost making me feel sorry for him.
‘Shut the fuck up, arsehole!’ yelled Mitchell, who’d clearly had enough of this particular strand of conversation.
Still keeping the gun trained on all of them, I backed out of the room, then as soon as I was out of sight I stuffed the gun in my jeans and ran for it, unlocking the door and feeling a desperate relief as I got back out on the street.
I sprinted all the way back to the car, checking my watch as I did so. Eight minutes. That was how long the whole thing had taken, and now my life had changed dramatically and irreversibly.
‘What’s happened?’ demanded Tommy as I jumped in the passenger side and threw the holdall in the back, narrowly missing Tommy Junior.
‘Just drive. Now.’
The engine was already running and he pulled away in a screech of tyres. ‘Talk to me, Sean,’ he said as we turned on to the Barking Road, heading back into town. ‘What happened in there?’
‘We had a disagreement,’ I said at last, the adrenalin still pumping through me. ‘I got the guns but one of them accused me of being an undercover copper, things got a bit heated, so I shot him. And one of his mates.’ As I spoke the words, the whole thing seemed utterly surreal. I still couldn’t believe I’d done it.
Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘Not Mitchell. Tell me you didn’t shoot that loon Mitchell.’
‘No, he’s still standing. Don’t worry.’
‘And the blokes you shot. Are they dead?’
I shook my head. ‘They’ll need patching up, though.’
For a couple of seconds Tommy didn’t say anything, and I wondered if I’d blown it. But then he hit the steering wheel and burst into a fit of loud, throaty laughter. ‘Christ, Sean, you’re like some sort of ice man! I can’t believe you popped two of Mitchell’s people. Wolfe’ll be tearing his hair out!’
He clapped me on the shoulder, staring at me with an expression that looked dangerously close to admiration. And I knew then that, although it might have cost me my career, at least now I was one of them.
Eight
It was at exactly 1.15 p.m., and with the images of the Night Creeper’s brutal murders still fresh in her mind, that Tina took her seat in the interview room with DCI MacLeod to begin the final stage of Andrew Kent’s
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