Katie managed to convince the police to allow her to sit in the back with Karl as he was transported. He was handcuffed behind his back, which made sitting awkward, but this was a guy who might have killed a man earlier that day, so the two officers were taking no chances. They called the station to report their plan: bringing the suspect in. They also warned her not to touch him, so they sat ten inches apart, which was the most awkward part of all.
Katie didn’t speak until the car turned right out of the church grounds.
‘I got you help, Karl. A solicitor. As soon as we know where they’re taking us, I’m to call him, and he’ll come immediately.’
He was overcome with immense embarrassment. Not because of where he sat, but because Katie was with him. Her plan for this afternoon had been to get her nails done, not accompany her husband to jail.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t think about that just yet. You can do the begging for forgiveness part later. Did you kill that man?’
He couldn’t believe she’d asked him. But he understood why. When he said no, the look she gave him was all he could ask for at this moment: belief.
‘I don’t know what happened. He came after us. Two of them. One is dead, but I don’t know what happened.’
She rubbed her face. ‘This is a mess. Where is the one who caused all this trouble? That gangster’s wife?’
‘She didn’t come—’
‘Abandoned you after what you did for her, eh?’
‘No, no. She’s planning to hand herself in. But she didn’t want to do it like this.’
Katie looked at the policeman, not wanting to give away any more in front of them. ‘Look, let’s wait until the solicitor arrives. Let’s just talk about you. Are you okay?’
He saw the two cops exchange a glance. ‘No talking at all,’ one said.
Katie leaned her head on Karl’s shoulder, but the driver warned her to keep away. When she didn’t move, he started to slow the car. So, Katie moved reluctantly. She reached behind him to grab his cuffed hands, to let him know everything was going to be okay.
* * *
‘This is damn madness,’ Dave said. ‘I don’t want any part of this.’
‘You’ll get part of a prison cell,’ Mick shouted at him. ‘You fuck this up, you’re both going down for twenty. I’ll fucking see to it.’
Brad said: ‘Mick, he’s right. You can’t—’
‘There!’ Mick bellowed, and pointed out of the passenger window.
The Vito was at the junction, poking its nose out. Way down where there was a school and a 20 mph zone, they saw a police car come into view. Four hundred feet away. It took the roundabout and turned in their direction.
Seeing this, Mick clapped both men on the shoulders. ‘Right, back up a hundred feet. This is how it goes down…’
* * *
‘It’s done,’ Danny said from his place sixty feet behind the police car. ‘Can we go now?’
‘Wait until the station. Think of it as escorting a date home.’
So they drove on, but the station was never going to happen. Just seconds later, a van burst from a side road on the right. Too fast. Intentionally, Danny realised, a moment before the vehicle crossed the westbound lane and struck the patrol car like an anvil. There was a screech of rending metal and shattering glass and the smaller vehicle was shunted to the left as if fired from a slingshot.
‘My God!’ Liz yelled. ‘It’s them.’
* * *
Katie was looking at Karl, and Karl was looking at his knees, so neither of them saw the impact coming. The noise was tremendous, but dulled, as if taking place underwater. It all seemed surreal. He was thrown into his door as the car was whipped aside from under him, like crockery remaining in place as a tablecloth is pulled away. The next moment, Katie crashed into him. The car was stalled, half on the road and half on the pavement. The driver’s side of the front was a convoluted mess of curved and jagged metal, poking into the driver, and he was screaming in pain. The airbags had been shredded. The only flesh Karl could see was the back of his neck, red with blood. Just feet away was the battered front of a larger vehicle.
Katie was beside Karl. She was leaning against her door, clutching her belly and looking at it in fear.
‘You okay?’ he asked, surprised he’d been able to. He must not be hurt somehow.
She nodded. Unhurt also, which was a miracle. But she was still clutching her belly. When he put his hand there also, it seemed to jolt her out of shock, and she let out a noisy breath of relief.
* * *
Brad was an experienced man, familiar with blood and violence, and he was able to kick into autopilot to force his mind and body to react and do what needed to be done. But here, listening to the screech of tyres from stopping vehicles and the yells of onlookers, he froze. It had all happened so quickly, too quickly for him to actually think about the consequences. And now they were here, and all bridges were burned behind him, and the only two things he could do were sit numb and think about how they were all fucked now Mick had pushed them a million steps too far.
Mick, though, had entered autopilot mode all too easily. Brad heard the sliding door grate open, and then Mick appeared in his view through the windscreen. Pistol in hand. He yanked open the back door of the police van, and ducked in to yank Seabury out, who fell to his knees on the glass-littered tarmac. Mick then pulled open Brad’s door.
‘Get him. The fucker’s wife’s here, too.’
Brad got his arse in gear. He jumped out, grabbed Seabury’s handcuff chain and hauled him to his feet, then lifted him and dumped him into the back of the Vito. Brad clambered in after him, in time to see Mick roughly yanking Seabury’s wife out of the car.
‘Take her.’
Brad got out again and took her arm. She was screaming. He really didn’t want to hurt the man’s wife, especially when he saw she was pregnant, but they were all in now. Maybe there would be no reason to hurt her, and she could be let go later. For now, though, all loose ends needed tying up.
Mick had gone. He heard another door open.
‘I’m fucking driving,’ he heard Mick shout. He had gone around to swap places with Dave, and Brad’s attention was diverted as he looked through his window to see Mick pulling Dave out of the driver’s seat.
Even as he realised his mistake, Seabury was taking full advantage of it.
Brad felt a heavy weight crash into him, and down he went.
‘Run, Katie!’ Seabury shouted.
Brad tried to stand, but took another blow, a kick in the ribs that bought the Seabury guy another second or two. When the vibrating world calmed, he saw the woman running away down the street.
‘Get him back inside, you dickhead,’ Mick yelled as Brad saw him bolting in pursuit of the fleeing woman.
‘Leave her, Mick, cops coming,’ Dave shouted after him.
Dave had hold of Seabury. To reclaim some pride, Brad yanked the guy out of Dave’s grip and threw him back inside the van. He got in. Seabury tried to sit up, so Brad grabbed his hair in both hands. The handcuffs meant there was no block to come. So, he took his sweet time pulling back his knee and driving it forward, hard into the guy’s face. When he let go of the guy’s sweaty hair, Seabury collapsed. His head made a nice dong on the metal floor. Brad slammed the door just as Dave jumped back into the driver’s seat.
Dave started the stalled engine.
‘Wait for him,’ Brad said.
Dave started to reverse and turn the van in the road. ‘Fuck that. He can meet us later.’
Brad slapped Dave’s shoulder. ‘No. Wait.’
* * *
Seabury’s wife lost serious ground every second. Scared, hurt, and holding her fragile belly, she was helpless.
Mick was upon her in seconds.