“That’s enough,” Shaun said sharply, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of the burning shrub. “No fires here, not until I’ve seen the whites of her eyes. I want my money back.”
He turned his attention to the black door in front of them. It was firmly shut. Frustrated, Shaun pushed against it to see how solid it was. Clearly, the wood and hinges were strong; there was no movement. He considered asking Jeb to batter it, and discounted the possibility. It would be noisy, without any guarantee of success. Instead, Shaun inspected the lock. He had a couple of bump keys he kept for situations like this, but no hammer or screwdriver with which to tap them. Swiftly, he removed a lock-picking tool from his wallet. Shaun’s father had taught him well; he and Jeb were inside the property within thirty seconds.
“Cover me, Jeb,” he said, kicking open the door on the left. In truth, he was sure Marty Bridges was not there. They would be facing Kat, Ross and perhaps Amy; no one else. In any event, Jeb steadied his gun as Shaun glanced around the empty room. “We’ll try the door on the right next,” he said.
“Okay.” Jeb’s consonants were muffled, probably because his nose was broken. Shaun had little sympathy. He regretted praising Jeb so quickly. Erik’s corpse was an inconvenience they could do without.
Opening the right hand door revealed the steps to the cellar. “The light’s on. Let’s get down there.” He removed his pistol from his breast pocket and held it in front of him, ready to shoot. “Have your gun ready too, Jeb. No need to worry about the sound. These walls are solid.” He hoped the floors weren’t. A bare earth cellar was a useful place to dispose of bodies; Erik’s, for example. They could drag it there later when they’d despatched the fugitives.
“Okay,” Jeb, usually more talkative, muttered again.
The stairs twisted to the left through ninety degrees and opened out into a brick vault. Shaun’s pleasure at spying the dirt floor turned swiftly to dismay. Apart from broken old furniture and other bric-a-brac, the gloomy underground room was empty. “Where are they?” he said, outraged.
“In the shade?” Jeb asked, shooting liberally at the larger shadows.
“Stop that,” Shaun said sharply, as a couple of bullets ricocheted in random directions, almost returning to sender.
“Since when were you a poster boy for health and safety?” Jeb whinged.
“Is there another way out?” Shaun mused. “I can’t see any doors. Got a light, Jeb?”
Jeb’s cigarette lighter flared, adding enough illumination to discern dusty footprints heading towards the back of the room.
“That’s it,” Shaun said. “There’s a door behind those shelves. Pull everything off them.”
Jeb roughly cleared the upper shelves of the rusty unit, sending old boxes and metal coils thudding to the ground. He dragged the unit to one side.
Shaun tutted impatiently. Luckily, the door wasn’t locked. Shaun opened it to reveal the spiral ladder beyond. He heard a distant clang as a door slammed shut far below. While he could barely see, he knew he was on Kat’s trail. “This is it,” he breathed. “There must be another cellar down there. We’ll catch them like rats in a trap. Do you have anything better than that cigarette lighter?”
“I left the flamethrower at home,” Jeb joked.
Shaun gave him a filthy look, completely wasted in the gloom, he knew. “Okay, we’ll just have to be careful,” he said. “Put your gun away. You go first, with your lighter.”
“One of my phones has a flashlight,” Jeb said. Like Shaun, he always carried a few; cheap models on pay as you go tariffs, completely untraceable.
“Mine too,” Shaun admitted. “Sorted.” He ordered Jeb to descend first, carrying the light. He, Shaun, would follow with his gun, to provide cover.
The substantial metal door at the foot was a problem. They tried pushing and pulling, but it remained firmly locked. Furthermore, it appeared to be built to withstand an earthquake. Even Jeb couldn’t lever it off its hinges, bruising his shoulder when he tried.
“We’ll just have to guess at the combination,” Shaun said. “I wish my boys were here. It’s like a password, isn’t it?” He recalled Ben saying most passwords were common, and therefore easy to hack.
“One,” Jeb suggested.
“It won’t be a single number,” Shaun said, twisting the dial to one, releasing it and repeating the process twice. The door stayed stubbornly shut. He searched the corners of his mind for inspiration, apprehensively trying one, two, three. “Bingo.” The metal door opened.
“It’s the Tube,” Jeb exclaimed. “All aboard the Piccadilly Line.”
They were at the blind end of a tunnel, constructed of white painted bricks and running for about fifty metres before emerging in a T junction. At the top of the curved ceiling was a strip of fluorescent lights accompanied by thick worms of cable. Shaun wondered what this place was, and its purpose. Knowing he was below Birmingham’s Jewellery Quarter, it occurred to him that the underground passages might give him access for a jewel heist in future. Marty Bridges’ disused workshop was both an excellent entry point and escape route. It was a stroke of luck, not only that Kat had been hiding there, but that Jeb had not yet put the workshop on fire as Shaun had intended.
Shaun resolved to explore the subterranean warren once he’d given Kat what she deserved. He agreed it resembled the London Underground, although no tracks were laid on the smooth concrete floor. There were none of the sights, sounds and smells of the Tube, either. Most striking of all, he and Jeb were alone. There was no sign of Kat and her friends. “Sshh,” he cautioned. “Listen for them.”
They stood still and silent. At first, all Shaun heard was a low hum of machinery and another sound, barely audible, like a bath filling. Then a woman spoke, her comments indistinct. Shaun pointed to the left of the T junction, looking at Jeb. Jeb nodded. They ran.
At the T junction, another tunnel, similar to the first except for its length, curved away in both directions. Shaun and Jeb sprinted to the left. Round the bend, there was a long, straight stretch, then a fork. No voices were audible.
Shaun’s mind was racing. Which direction should they choose? He simply didn’t know. “We’ll split up,” he decided. ”Get your gun ready again.”
“You want me to make a public announcement, boss?” Jeb asked, with the merest hint of insolence, albeit obeying swiftly.
Shaun glared. “They’ll know we’re coming. We sound like a herd of elephants already.” Indeed, there was no way of muffling their footsteps on the hard floor. “Whoever sees them first – shout, okay?”
Jeb grunted assent.
Shaun took the right hand fork. He was still fit enough to run fast. It was a skill, the only one in fact, that had won him prizes at school and it had saved him in his teens when burglaries went wrong. As always, he kept his senses in a state of high alert. That was how he noticed a ringing noise from a door on his left, as if it had been abruptly closed and an echo remained.
It was a grey metal door, smaller and plainer than the entrance to the underground complex. Shaun pushed it cautiously. It opened a crack. While there was light beyond, he could see nothing else. He applied more force, and the door swung wide open.
This was a room, a cuboid; painted white like the thoroughfares around him but devoid of curves. Its function was unclear. Perhaps it was a little-used storeroom, for a few cardboard boxes were scattered around. Of more interest, Kat and her two friends were also there, shrinking in a corner.
There was no hiding place in the almost-empty chamber, no doors through which they could escape. He had them in his sights at last.
“I’ve got a gun,” he said, pointing it at Kat, “and I’m not afraid to use it.”
“I didn’t think it was a vase of flowers, Shaun,” she said.
He wanted to laugh, but stopped himself. If she hadn’t been so greedy, he might have bought her flowers; a lavish bouquet redolent of his wealth and power. There was no point speculating about a fantasy Kat, though. He’d misjudged the real Kat, failed to understand what she was prepared to do for money. Twenty grand was twenty grand. “Jeb!” he shouted. He could have despatched them all in seconds, but he wanted his henchman to see the act, to tell others and have it pass into folklore. He couldn’t afford his peers to think he was a soft touch. “Don’t move,” he snarled at the trio.
They huddled in the furthest corner of the room, a mere few yards from him. Shaun had imagined the young, besuited man he’d punched in the courtyard was Amy’s boyfriend. They’d been together at the pub in Harborne. No longer; the young man was holding Kat’s hand, an impassive expression on his bespectacled face. While Amy leaned against the wall, fidgeting and anxious, Kat was cool and poised as ever. Shaun admired her nerve.
Jeb arrived, waving a pistol flamboyantly. “You found them, boss?” His eyes were a mixture of triumph and fear. What was that about?
“Put that away, Jeb,” Shaun ordered.
Jeb moved his gun, almost imperceptibly, as if steadying it. Within a split-second, Shaun saw Amy push Kat away from the corner, simultaneously hearing the crack of a bullet leaving Jeb’s pistol. Amy grimaced, apparently in pain. The bullet hadn’t touched her, though. Shaun saw it hit the wall, bouncing harmlessly into one of the cardboard boxes.
Shaun had no chance to speak. Kat’s male friend, who like Kat had been caught off-balance and ended up on the ground, dived forward and rugby tackled Jeb’s ankles. His black-rimmed spectacles fell and shattered.
Jeb fell on top of the man, landing a punch on him but dropping his gun. Shaun kicked it behind him before his captives could consider any further heroics. “Nobody move,” he ordered. He turned his attention to his henchman. “I’m doing the shooting, okay? Just me and nobody else.”
“I’d get on with it if I were you, boss,” Jeb said. “We don’t know who else is around.”
“Have you heard anyone?”
Jeb strained his ears, before shaking his head. “No, boss.”
“Good.” Satisfied they all knew who called the shots, Shaun approached Kat. She was wearing a long silk kimono, a garment that revealed little skin, but every inch of her curves. He reached to stroke her hair, noting with amusement how the young man glared. How much could he see without his spectacles? Shaun wasn’t taking any chances. He pointed his gun at the man.
Kat herself didn’t flinch. Her gorgeous green eyes caught his. “Why do you want to kill me, Shaun?” she asked.
“You took the money, Kat,” Shaun said, almost sorrowfully.
The young man couldn’t contain himself. “How much is it?” he asked contemptuously. “I’ll write you a cheque.”
Shaun was implacable. “No cheques. My business is cash only. And it’s too late. Nobody crosses me. They don’t steal from me. Nobody, do you hear me? At least, not if they want to live.” His raised voice echoed in the brick chamber.
He could have insisted on a trip to the cash machine, he supposed, but what was the point of that? At most, the lad could have withdrawn five hundred pounds, while Shaun would run the risk of betrayal, not to mention walking past a bevy of CCTV cameras.
Kat looked into Shaun’s eyes again. “I didn’t steal anything,” she said.
“No,” Jeb interjected angrily.
“Let her finish,” Shaun told him. “Twenty grand disappeared from the backroom at AKD,” he said to Kat.
“Where was it – just lying around? I never saw money in there,” Kat said, seemingly puzzled. “Did you, Jeb? He’s talking about the room where you gave me a thousand pounds and told me to lie low.”
Shaun looked at Jeb, realising at once why his subordinate’s eyes shifted away from his.
“Vince,” Jeb said, his voice dripping with sincerity. “Honest to God, it must have been.”
Shaun hid his shock at the treachery behind an icy mask. “I know what I need to know,” he said.
He knew he was a good marksman too. The bullet pierced Jeb’s heart in an instant.