the car. He knew the score and hopefully was thinking of his wife and kids. I switched my pistol into my left hand, moved into him and quickly jabbed the pistol muzzle into his armpit, twisting it into the material of his jacket. I felt his body tense and heard a little grunt.
‘I’ll explain the facts of life for you,’ I said. ‘This weapon is screwed into your clothes. I’ve got my finger on the trigger and the safety catch is off. If you fuck about, you’ll kill yourself. Understand?’
He didn’t react.
I said, ‘Come on, this isn’t difficult. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Place your hands on your head.’
With my right hand I took his weapon. Mine had only one magazine. He was carrying a Sig .45 in a pancake holster over his right kidney, and three magazines on his belt. The Sig is an approved weapon of the FBI.
He was in his mid-thirties and straight off the set of Baywatch : blond, tanned, fit, good-looking, square jaw. I could smell baby lotion. This boy wanted to keep his skin soft. Or maybe he had a baby. Who cared? If he moved, he’d be dead.
There was a white wire behind his ear, linked to an earpiece.
‘Who are you?’ I said. Not that it made any difference whether he was FBI or plain-clothes police.
No reply.
‘Listen, whatever you think, I did not kill that family. I did not kill them. Do you understand?’
Nothing. I knew I wouldn’t get Baywatch man to talk. In any event, there wasn’t any time to waste trying.
I took the radio, and cash from his wallet. Then, with the pistol still in his armpit, I whispered loudly over my shoulder, ‘Stay where you are, Kelly! Don’t worry, I’m coming!’ I gripped him harder. ‘Kelly, I said we’re going to go in a minute!’ If they thought Kelly was still with me when I legged it, maybe they’d move on and search a fresh area.
I turned back to him and said, ‘I’m going to untwist this now. Don’t fuck me about; it’s not worth it.’ I gradually released my pistol, making sure I could fire at any stage. I was behind him, with the weapon now pointing at his head. He knew that.
I said, ‘You know what I’ve got to do next, don’t you?’
There was a slight nod of acceptance.
I picked up a lump of angle-iron from a pile of discarded shelving and gave him the good news where his neck met his shoulder. That took him down good-style. For good measure I gave him a few kicks to the head and bollocks. At the end of the day, he wasn’t going to be more pissed off with me because of this kicking; he probably already wanted to kill me. But I had to stop him raising the alarm. A professional like this boy would be expecting it anyway; if the roles were reversed it would be him doing the honours. It would certainly fuck him up for about ten minutes, and that was all I needed.
I came out from behind the car and had a quick look around. Nobody in sight. I ran towards the container; there was a large bin beside it that I could use as a springboard. I jumped, threw myself upwards and got my arms onto the roof. I scrambled up. From there it was just a 15-foot drop to freedom.
A sign pointed the way to Maylords Boardwalk. I turned left and ran along the grass bank, past the bins and into another car parking area. I went straight towards the boardwalk because it promised cover. I was looking for a toilet; and, with luck, there would also be an exit to the other side of the mall.
The boardwalk seemed to be a mini mall with mainly shoe and greetings-card shops. I found the block of conveniences by the coffee shop about a third of the way down the arcade. Looking further down, I could see there was another exit to the boardwalk. I went into the toilets.
Two guys had had a piss and were now washing their hands. I went straight into one of the cubicles and sat there while I waited to calm down.
I put the earpiece in my ear and switched on the radio. I didn’t get much at all, the sound was all broken up, but that meant nothing. I was
‘I’ll explain the facts of life for you,’ I said. ‘This weapon is screwed into your clothes. I’ve got my finger on the trigger and the safety catch is off. If you fuck about, you’ll kill yourself. Understand?’
He didn’t react.
I said, ‘Come on, this isn’t difficult. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Place your hands on your head.’
With my right hand I took his weapon. Mine had only one magazine. He was carrying a Sig .45 in a pancake holster over his right kidney, and three magazines on his belt. The Sig is an approved weapon of the FBI.
He was in his mid-thirties and straight off the set of Baywatch : blond, tanned, fit, good-looking, square jaw. I could smell baby lotion. This boy wanted to keep his skin soft. Or maybe he had a baby. Who cared? If he moved, he’d be dead.
There was a white wire behind his ear, linked to an earpiece.
‘Who are you?’ I said. Not that it made any difference whether he was FBI or plain-clothes police.
No reply.
‘Listen, whatever you think, I did not kill that family. I did not kill them. Do you understand?’
Nothing. I knew I wouldn’t get Baywatch man to talk. In any event, there wasn’t any time to waste trying.
I took the radio, and cash from his wallet. Then, with the pistol still in his armpit, I whispered loudly over my shoulder, ‘Stay where you are, Kelly! Don’t worry, I’m coming!’ I gripped him harder. ‘Kelly, I said we’re going to go in a minute!’ If they thought Kelly was still with me when I legged it, maybe they’d move on and search a fresh area.
I turned back to him and said, ‘I’m going to untwist this now. Don’t fuck me about; it’s not worth it.’ I gradually released my pistol, making sure I could fire at any stage. I was behind him, with the weapon now pointing at his head. He knew that.
I said, ‘You know what I’ve got to do next, don’t you?’
There was a slight nod of acceptance.
I picked up a lump of angle-iron from a pile of discarded shelving and gave him the good news where his neck met his shoulder. That took him down good-style. For good measure I gave him a few kicks to the head and bollocks. At the end of the day, he wasn’t going to be more pissed off with me because of this kicking; he probably already wanted to kill me. But I had to stop him raising the alarm. A professional like this boy would be expecting it anyway; if the roles were reversed it would be him doing the honours. It would certainly fuck him up for about ten minutes, and that was all I needed.
I came out from behind the car and had a quick look around. Nobody in sight. I ran towards the container; there was a large bin beside it that I could use as a springboard. I jumped, threw myself upwards and got my arms onto the roof. I scrambled up. From there it was just a 15-foot drop to freedom.
A sign pointed the way to Maylords Boardwalk. I turned left and ran along the grass bank, past the bins and into another car parking area. I went straight towards the boardwalk because it promised cover. I was looking for a toilet; and, with luck, there would also be an exit to the other side of the mall.
The boardwalk seemed to be a mini mall with mainly shoe and greetings-card shops. I found the block of conveniences by the coffee shop about a third of the way down the arcade. Looking further down, I could see there was another exit to the boardwalk. I went into the toilets.
Two guys had had a piss and were now washing their hands. I went straight into one of the cubicles and sat there while I waited to calm down.
I put the earpiece in my ear and switched on the radio. I didn’t get much at all, the sound was all broken up, but that meant nothing. I was
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