Shredder by Niall Leonard Page A

have a chance, and if the racket brought the Guvnor’s goons running, all the better.
    Richard stepped back onto the landing, saw me coming, cursed and ducked back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I heard the crash of furniture being pulled over—with no lock on the inside he’d tried to barricade the door, but when I threw my shoulder against it, it opened a few centimeters, and the next shove knocked the obstruction back—a toppled bookshelf, I saw as I squeezed through the gap, clambering over scattered storybooks that slid about under my feet.
    The kids usually slept in twin single beds in opposite corners of the room, Bonnie’s fluffy toys piled on one side, Kelly’s robots and remote control cars on the other. Kelly, unbelievably, was still asleep,but not Bonnie—Richard had dragged her from her bed and was restraining her, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other holding a knife to her throat. Bonnie was squeaking in terror, her fine blond hair tangled over her eyes. Richard grinned at me, but I could see from the way the blade twitched how wired he was. He was wearing gloves, I noticed.
    “One move,” he said. “One word, and I slit her throat.”
    But he was going to do that anyway, I knew—now that Bonnie was awake he had no choice. But how the hell did he plan to get away afterwards?
    “You’re too late,” I said. “Cherry will raise the alarm. You’re not getting out of here.” Immediately I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. I sucked at negotiating—all I’d done was remind him he had nothing to lose. The Guvnor would show no mercy to someone who’d threatened his children.
    “No she won’t,” said Richard. “Silly slag necked half a bottle of wine tonight. And I threw a couple of bennies in, just in case.”
    “How long have you been working for the Turk?” I said.
    “Me?” Richard smirked. “I’m not working for him. You are.”
    Then he snapped Bonnie’s head back, exposing her pale white throat, and her mouth opened to whimper as the blade bit into her skin, and his little finger slipped between her teeth, and she bit down hard. He flinched in agony and I was on him before he even had time to yell, grabbing his wrist and wrenching the blade up and away.
    Bonnie writhed, squealing, and Richard let her go so he could punch me in the face—and he did, hard, twice. I slammed my body up against his to close the range, and felt his hand crawl across my face like a spider, before he hooked two fingers up my nose and wrenched my head back. It was bloody agony, but I had to hold on to the hand that grasped the blade. I shook my head, twisted my body round and backed him up against the wall, folding his knife hand forward, trying my best to break his wrist. The blade fell from his fist and he ducked to scrabble for it with his left, and when I went for it too he jumped up and kneed me hard right in the nose.
    Stars exploded behind my eyes and I staggered backwards, nearly stumbling over the fallen bookshelf. I blinked and shook my head, my vision clearing just in time to see him stoop and grasp the knife, then hesitate, scowling—I’d wrenched his rightwrist so badly he no longer had the strength to hold it. I saw Bonnie beyond him, blood streaming down her neck and staining her pajama top, shaking Kelly and shrieking in his ear. Richard tossed the blade from his right hand to his left while I grabbed at the chair that stood at the foot of Kelly’s bed, still hung with his discarded clothes, and wielded it like a lion tamer.
    Richard snorted—it was a kid’s chair, and too small to be any use as a shield, but that wasn’t what I’d been going for. When I flung the little chair at Richard’s head he had to duck, so he didn’t see me grab Kelly’s jeans and flick them like a whip that tangled around his left hand and fouled the blade long enough for me to close the gap and punch him full in the teeth. A punch to the throat would have floored him, maybe killed him,