that led into the club. The doorway through which his companion had disappeared a moment before.
The Sierra passed slowly, coming to a halt directly opposite the Astra which looked as if it had been jammed into the small yard.
Joule glanced round and looked at it but paid it no heed, content instead to clamber back inside the Astra. He fumbled under the seat and pulled out a newspaper, flicking disinterestedly through it. He paused at a photo of a half-naked girl and murmured `Filth' under his breath. He folded the paper and stuck it back under the seat.
The cat was still scrambling about amongst the bins and Joule watched in amusement as the animal tried to tip one of the lids off. It eventually succeeded and the top crashed to the ground with a loud clang, frightening the cat which promptly lost its footing and fell inside. Joule chuckled, not noticing that Dome was emerging from the entrance at the top of the stairs.
He also failed to notice that the Sierra was swinging across the street towards the yard.
Dome raised the case and nodded in silent affirmation that the night's work was complete.
He was half-way down the stairs when the Sierra came hurtling across the road and slammed into the back of the Astra.
Joule felt his head snap forward and he was momentarily stunned as his forehead connected sharply with the windscreen.
The impact of the two cars crashing together shunted the Astra towards the rear of the building and sent it smashing into the row of dustbins.
The cat, still trapped inside one of them, yowled in fear and surprise.
Joule spun round to see men clambering from the Sierra.
Two of them.
Dome, momentarily frozen on the metal steps, was the first to see that they carried guns.
Should he try to help his companion or run back up the steps towards the club?
He was still trying to decide when a burst of automatic fire struck the wall beside him. The staccato rattle of a submachine gun filled the night as one of the two men from the Sierra tightened his finger around the trigger of an Uzi. The 9mm slugs, travelling at a speed in excess of 1,280 feet a second, spattered the stonework and ricocheted off the metal steps with a high pitched scream.
Bright, blinding muzzle flashes lit the night, turning the yard into a stroboscopic nightmare.
Dome, still clutching the attaché case, finally turned and ran back up the stairs. The next burst caught him in the legs, one of the bullets scything through his thigh, another blasting away one testicle. He screamed in agony and fell forward, rolling over, pulling the .38 from his shoulder holster but finding that his hands were trembling badly both from the intense pain and from fear. His lower body was on fire, searing agony tearing through his legs and groin. He felt blood pouring from the wounds, smelt the rich coppery odour in his nostrils.
Joule was trying to get out of the car, trying to force open the buckled driver's door but he found that it was wedged up against the toppled dustbins.
There was a thunderous blast and the rear window was blown in, showering him with glass which cut his face. He pulled the Beretta from his belt and fired back at the attackers, forced to duck down again as a blast from the Uzi drilled across the stricken vehicle. The driver's seat was riddled with bullets, two of them erupting with sufficient force to smash Joule's left radial bone. A portion of the shattered bone tore through his flesh and he screamed in pain, the pistol dropping from his grasp.
He tried to duck down; to keep clear of the volley of fire which was drawing dotted lines of death across the yard.
Up on the steps, Dome was hauling himself agonisingly towards the door of the club.
It was a shotgun blast which caught him.
The fearful impact exploded the attaché case which he still held beside him and then powered into his side, smashing three ribs and rupturing a lung. He felt the breath torn from him and blood suddenly filled his mouth.
The second
The Sierra passed slowly, coming to a halt directly opposite the Astra which looked as if it had been jammed into the small yard.
Joule glanced round and looked at it but paid it no heed, content instead to clamber back inside the Astra. He fumbled under the seat and pulled out a newspaper, flicking disinterestedly through it. He paused at a photo of a half-naked girl and murmured `Filth' under his breath. He folded the paper and stuck it back under the seat.
The cat was still scrambling about amongst the bins and Joule watched in amusement as the animal tried to tip one of the lids off. It eventually succeeded and the top crashed to the ground with a loud clang, frightening the cat which promptly lost its footing and fell inside. Joule chuckled, not noticing that Dome was emerging from the entrance at the top of the stairs.
He also failed to notice that the Sierra was swinging across the street towards the yard.
Dome raised the case and nodded in silent affirmation that the night's work was complete.
He was half-way down the stairs when the Sierra came hurtling across the road and slammed into the back of the Astra.
Joule felt his head snap forward and he was momentarily stunned as his forehead connected sharply with the windscreen.
The impact of the two cars crashing together shunted the Astra towards the rear of the building and sent it smashing into the row of dustbins.
The cat, still trapped inside one of them, yowled in fear and surprise.
Joule spun round to see men clambering from the Sierra.
Two of them.
Dome, momentarily frozen on the metal steps, was the first to see that they carried guns.
Should he try to help his companion or run back up the steps towards the club?
He was still trying to decide when a burst of automatic fire struck the wall beside him. The staccato rattle of a submachine gun filled the night as one of the two men from the Sierra tightened his finger around the trigger of an Uzi. The 9mm slugs, travelling at a speed in excess of 1,280 feet a second, spattered the stonework and ricocheted off the metal steps with a high pitched scream.
Bright, blinding muzzle flashes lit the night, turning the yard into a stroboscopic nightmare.
Dome, still clutching the attaché case, finally turned and ran back up the stairs. The next burst caught him in the legs, one of the bullets scything through his thigh, another blasting away one testicle. He screamed in agony and fell forward, rolling over, pulling the .38 from his shoulder holster but finding that his hands were trembling badly both from the intense pain and from fear. His lower body was on fire, searing agony tearing through his legs and groin. He felt blood pouring from the wounds, smelt the rich coppery odour in his nostrils.
Joule was trying to get out of the car, trying to force open the buckled driver's door but he found that it was wedged up against the toppled dustbins.
There was a thunderous blast and the rear window was blown in, showering him with glass which cut his face. He pulled the Beretta from his belt and fired back at the attackers, forced to duck down again as a blast from the Uzi drilled across the stricken vehicle. The driver's seat was riddled with bullets, two of them erupting with sufficient force to smash Joule's left radial bone. A portion of the shattered bone tore through his flesh and he screamed in pain, the pistol dropping from his grasp.
He tried to duck down; to keep clear of the volley of fire which was drawing dotted lines of death across the yard.
Up on the steps, Dome was hauling himself agonisingly towards the door of the club.
It was a shotgun blast which caught him.
The fearful impact exploded the attaché case which he still held beside him and then powered into his side, smashing three ribs and rupturing a lung. He felt the breath torn from him and blood suddenly filled his mouth.
The second
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