Webb lowered the Uzi and pointed it at Jenny’s head. In that moment, he must have sensed that the surveillance cop was about to try something. He looked away from her for a split second and as the barrel of the Uzi lifted, she suddenly swung her foot up from the floor and into his groin. He folded.
The talking was over. I swung the pistol around from behind my back and fired. My first bullet was aimed at Webb’s chest, near to his heart. The force knocked him back against the window. I kept firing. This wasn’t me being professional and it wasn’t meant to be pretty. This was me saving my wife from a madman. Bullets hit the wall around Webb and smashed through the glass of the window. Some must have hit him, because he spun around.
Next thing, Jenny was on him like an angry cat.
‘Jen, get out of the way,’ I yelled.
Either she didn’t hear me or she was past caring. As Webb stood up straight, Jenny punched him hard on the temple. The surveillance cop was in front of me as we leapt forward, but Jenny beat us to it again. From somewhere, she found the strength to deliver a sharp side-kick to Webb’s ribs. He flew into the window and crashed through it. The last sound that Richard Webb uttered was a scream, before he crashed into the garden outside.
I threw myself at Jenny. There was a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth, held in place by a scarf. Around one of her wrists was the cord from my dressing gown. Webb had made a poor job of tying her up. As I made to comfort her, she pushed me away.
‘He’s wearing a bullet-proof vest. I could feel it.’
The surveillance cop looked out of the window and, as he did, a spray of bullets hit the outside wall and remaining glass. He fell backwards into the bedroom.
‘I’ll take care of him. You get that bastard, Finlay.’
For a brief moment, I hesitated. It seemed so unlikely that I should be taking orders from Jenny. I picked the Beretta up from the bed with my free hand, ran downstairs, out of the house and on to the drive.
There was no sign of Webb. I checked our car, behind and underneath.
‘Up the lane, I can see him running.’ Jenny was leaning out the broken window pointing away from the house. In the bright, morning sun, I could just make out the fleeing figure. I raced after him.
By now, Webb had over a hundred yards start on me but he was slowing fast. Either the fall or one of the bullets I had fired at him must have injured him. He was limping badly on his right leg. As I closed on him, he must have heard my footsteps on the gravel. He started to turn.
I raised the Glock and fired. My aim was good. The bullet struck his arm, sending the Uzi spinning away. It clattered to the ground, now far enough away from him to render it useless. The sound of the approaching siren was louder now.
Webb turned to face me. ‘Allahu Akbar, Finlay. God is …’
‘Cut the Jihadist crap, Richard.’
‘Twenty years I have waited for this moment. Twenty years to avenge my brother. Now … now what?’
Webb winced in pain. Blood covered his right hand where I had just shot him. His arm was shaking violently. Shards of glass glistened in the sun where they stuck in his scalp. With his left hand he brushed away the blood that flowed across his brow and into his eyes. He was in a real mess.
‘It doesn’t have to end this way, Richard,’ I said.
‘Shoot me then,’ he said.
I held the Glock steady in my hand, the barrel pointed at his chest. But I didn’t fire.
‘Can’t what?’ I demanded.
‘You can’t kill me. I knew you were weak, Finlay. I always did. You should have killed me the day you killed my brother.’
‘You weren’t armed,’ I said.
Webb laughed. ‘Have you any idea how much pain you caused me that day? I wish you’d shot me, I really do. It would have been better than a life wishing it had been me that died and not my brother.’
‘And now you expect me to put that right?’
‘No … you won’t. I know that. I’ve had a lifetime of nightmares. Do you know that I even see you in my dreams, Finlay? Even now, it won’t end. Even now, I’d put money that you’d try and wound me to spare my life.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ I said. Behind me, I could hear footsteps.
‘Look behind you, Finlay,’ said Webb. ‘Your little wifey has come to help, she has.’
‘Kill him,’ said Jenny. She was close to me, close enough to hear what was being said. I hoped Webb wouldn’t use her to force me to shoot him.
I kept my eyes facing towards Webb. Even now, he might be looking for a moment of distraction when he could reach for a concealed weapon. Behind him, the fast-approaching police car was now only fifty or so yards away. The crew had turned the sirens off as they drew close. For a moment, it crossed my mind that they were going to ram us. Suddenly, the police car slowed, the bonnet dipping as the driver braked hard. The tyres screeched as it started to skid, smoke pouring from all four tyres. From the passenger side of the car, an officer in blue uniform emerged holding an MP5 carbine.
‘He’s gonna shoot you, Finlay,’ said Webb.
Although Webb was tormenting me, he was right. In civilian clothes and pointing a pistol at an injured man, I was the one presenting the most apparent danger.
‘Drop the weapon,’ the cop shouted.
He was aiming at me.
Webb was standing with his back to the police car, his good arm now concealed by his jacket.
I hesitated.
‘Drop the weapon … now,’ came the repeated order, this time even louder.
‘Allahu Akbar …’ Webb said, quietly, as he moved his left hand further inside his jacket.
He winked at me and then spun around to face the police car. A second cop had now emerged from the rear seat and was pointing a Glock pistol in our direction.
Webb moved quickly. He ducked slightly, pulled his hand from inside his jacket and then thrust both hands forward as if about to fire. His hands were empty.
Both armed cops reacted immediately and instinctively. They opened fire.