‘Forgive me, Steve,’ I murmured while I called Dylan. ‘Dylan, they have Steve. Get out. Get the cops.’
‘Jesus, Aidy,’ was all he could say.
‘Go,’ I growled. ‘But be careful. They’re combing the yard for me.’
Derek held his hand out to Rykov. The Russian smiled and handed the gun over.
‘You always were a piece of shit,’ Steve said.
‘And your son would have never made it in Formula One.’
‘Fuck you.’
Derek backhanded Steve across the temple with the gun. Steve crumpled, falling to his side. Derek moved in and dropped a knee in Steve’s side, pinning him to the ground. He pressed the gun to Steve’s eye.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Hancock said.
‘You’d better come on out, Aidy,’ Derek bellowed. His voice crashed off the building and wrecked cars. ‘You wouldn’t let this defenceless old man die for you, would you? That’s pretty cowardly, even by my shitty standards.’
I wanted to get in there and give myself up, but the second I did, it was over. Rykov would have Derek put a bullet in each of our heads. I had to give Dylan time to call the cops and get them to mobilize. How long would that take? Five minutes? Ten? Did we have ten minutes? I didn’t think so. I might, but Steve didn’t. I had to buy him some time.
‘Aidy’s not here, you arsehole,’ Steve growled.
‘Nice try, Steve, but I don’t believe you. Aidy, do I have to hit him again?’
Derek paused for a second before smashing Steve again with the gun, then pushed himself to his feet, using Steve as an aid. Steve rolled away and struggled into a sitting position. Blood streaked his face. He looked old and haggard. He wouldn’t stand up to too much more.
My hands were angry and frustrated fists. I was breathing hard and fast, but I had to keep calm. I couldn’t let my emotions get the better of me.
‘Aidy, you’re really testing my patience. I think I’m going to have to shoot him.’
Theatrically, Derek pointed the gun at Steve and put out his hand to protect himself from splatter.
It was a farce. Derek wouldn’t do it. He just wanted me to give myself up. He was arm-twisting. Nothing more. Then he pulled the trigger. A harsh, flat crack split the air.
I jolted as if the bullet had struck me. White noise filled my head and I forgot how to breathe. Only one thought replayed itself in my head. You killed Steve. You killed your grandfather.
‘That was a warning shot,’ Derek shouted.
Derek dragged Steve up into a half-sitting position and propped him up with his knee. Steve was unharmed. The shot had left him dazed and confused, but alive. I felt a whole new pain in my chest.
‘OK, Aidy. No more warnings. No more second chances. Steve dies if you don’t come out now.’
Anger twisted Steve’s face into something I’d never seen before. ‘Don’t do it, son. He’ll just kill us both.’
‘At least I know he’s here and I’m not talking to myself.’ Derek put the gun to Steve’s temple. His finger slipped over the trigger. ‘Last chance, Aidy.’
‘OK, OK, I’m coming out,’ I yelled.
Steve’s head sagged in defeat. He would have died for me, but I couldn’t let him.
A couple of Rykov’s men zeroed in on my voice. Before I had a chance to clamber out from under the wrecked car, they dragged me out. One of them hoisted me to my feet while the other stuck a gun in my face.
‘Don’t fuck around,’ he said.
They shoved me out into the open. I walked slowly with my hands up towards Derek, Steve, Rykov and Hancock. I’d lost all sense of time. Everything was coming at me too quickly. I couldn’t tell ten seconds from ten minutes. I just wanted to give Dylan as much time as possible to get the cops here. A gun barrel to the back of my head quickened my step.
Rykov’s men and Derek’s crew wandered back to the centre of the yard. They exchanged grins. This was fun for them. It was a chance to uncork their violent sides. Tommy and Strickland looked somewhat out of their depth. They no longer held their shotguns like they intended on using them. They were oversized toys they didn’t want anymore. Morgan was different. This was payback for his busted arm. He was unable to carry a gun, but his leer said he was more than happy to live vicariously through everyone else.
They clustered around Derek, Steve, Rykov and Hancock to make an unwelcoming welcome committee. It all looked to be too much for Hancock. Before, he’d looked frayed, but now he was coming apart at the seams. He pressed a hand to his forehead and kept shaking his head.
Derek stood with the gun loose at his side. I was tempted to throw myself at him, jam the damn thing under his chin and pull the trigger. My hate showed on my face, but Derek gave me nothing in return. He didn’t care if I lived or died.
A hard shove in the back sent me onto my hands and knees. I went to get up but Rykov pushed me down.
‘You stay there,’ he said.
‘You OK?’ I asked Steve.
He nodded.
‘You the little problem, yes?’ Rykov said.
I didn’t answer.
‘I think you more than little problem.’ He shot Hancock a disgusted look. ‘I need to know how much damage you do to me.’
The Russian had unknowingly thrown me a lifeline. He wanted to talk. I didn’t mind talking. Talking kept me alive and gave the cops time to arrive. I pictured them speeding over here.
‘What you know?’ Rykov said, leaning into my face.
‘And what do you think you know?’ Derek added.
‘They don’t know anything, Mr Rykov,’ Hancock said.
‘Don’t be bullshitting me. They here because they know something.’
‘OK, but don’t do anything stupid,’ Hancock said.
The glare Rykov sent Hancock’s way looked as if it could pierce armour plating. ‘I never do anything stupid. Everything I do is calculated. Got that, Vic?’
Hancock blushed. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. You know what you’re doing.’
Rykov took the gun back from Derek and put it in my face. ‘What you know? And do not be lying. I do not hand out warning shots.’
‘Don’t tell him anything,’ Steve said.
Rykov’s grip tightened on the gun.
‘No, I want to talk.’
‘I am glad one of you has brains in family. Now, talk.’
‘You’re making over high end cars written off by insurance companies. Vic here buys them from the insurance companies. He separates the wheat from the chaff and hands them over to Derek. His crew makes the cars over with new identities. I don’t know how it’s done. Someone must have some useful friends in the DVLA and the car plants because the new paperwork isn’t forged and the vehicle ID tags aren’t fakes. Then the cars come to you and you sell them.’
Rykov looked impressed with me, but he didn’t volunteer any information to fill in any gaps in my knowledge. ‘Interesting. What else you know?’
‘I’m guessing you went to Vic with this project.’
Rykov laughed. ‘Why you say that?’
‘This looks like your operation. Vic looks way out of his depth.’
Hancock balled a hand into a fist, but he didn’t even have the courage to take a swing at me.
Rykov laughed again. ‘I like you. You smart boy. Tell me, why do I partner up with spineless prick like Vic?’
‘There’s a lot of money in salvage, but it’s a margins business. There’s a lot of capital expenditure needed for it. He’s overextended and can’t keep up with the loans and mortgages. He needed some extra income to cover his debts.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Hancock demanded.
I shrugged. ‘It’s not hard to work out.’
‘Why you care?’ Rykov asked. ‘Why put your life in danger?’
‘I’m not interested in you. I’m only interested in Derek. He killed a racecar driver I know. That’s all I care about.’
‘That fantasy again,’ Derek said.
‘Not fantasy. It’s fact.’
Rykov’s eyes flicked to Derek then back to me. He was intrigued by this. I thought he might have ordered Alex’s murder, but it was obvious this was all news to him.
‘You really don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Derek said.
‘I guess it helps when you have a cop covering your trail for you.’
‘A cop?’ Rykov asked. The question was aimed at Derek, not me.
‘I have a friend on the force and he’s not averse to some additional income.’
‘He knows about this enterprise too,’ I said. ‘He had to if he was going to cover up the killing.’
I thought I saw a glint of fear in Derek’s eyes. The odds of my survival weren’t good. It would sweeten the outcome if Derek took a bullet along with me.
‘Does cop know this?’ the Russian demanded.
‘Yes, but he protects the operation in Bristol. He’s in my pocket. He’s not a problem.’
‘Every cop is problem, especially dirty cop. They would sell out mother to save ass.’
I’d ignited something in the Russian. Gears were turning in his head. He had a problem that needed fixing. My talking had bought Steve and me time, but also guaranteed our execution. I didn’t have high hopes for Detective Brennan after tonight.
‘Is that everything?’ Rykov snapped at me.
‘Yes.’
‘Who else know?’
‘Just Steve and me.’
Rykov put the gun to Steve’s head. ‘I kill him if you lie.’
‘He’s going to kill us anyway, Aidy,’ Steve said.
I thought of Dylan and was glad one of us had gotten away. I repeated myself. ‘Just Steve and me.’
Rykov lowered the gun. I took that as a sign of belief.
His mobile burst into song and he answered it. He spoke in Russian and his face darkened.
I assumed a lookout had spotted the cops. I strained to hear for sirens, but heard nothing. There wouldn’t be sirens anyway. They wouldn’t want to spook the Russian and his pals. I hoped the cops were close.
Rykov said something in Russian then snapped his phone shut.
Moments later, I heard scuffling, followed by a cry. My stomach went into free-fall. I knew what was coming.
Out of the far corner of the yard, another of the Russians emerged from behind a stack of ruined cars. He shoved Dylan ahead of him. Dylan’s nose was bleeding and his left eye was closed up.
Rykov’s man threw Dylan down on the ground between the Russian and me.
‘You insult me with lies,’ Rykov said. ‘You disappoint me.’
‘I’m sorry, Aidy. I didn’t get the call out. He got me first.’
There it was. No cops. No rescue. No chance.
Lap Twenty-Six
‘
B
ind them up,’ Rykov said.
The bouncer who’d shoved a gun in my face said, ‘Put out hands.’
I put my hands together as if in prayer and he wired them together in front of me. He repeated the process with Steve and Dylan.
Rykov tossed out a bunch of instructions in Russian. Whatever he said got a laugh out of his fellow Russians. The English speakers looked on dumbly. Actions would have to speak for themselves.
‘Aidy, what the hell is going on?’ Dylan asked. Panic roughed the edges of his words.
‘Nothing yet. He won’t try anything here.’
One of Rykov’s men rushed over to Steve’s Renault and got behind the wheel. He brought the car over. Three of the bouncer types pulled us to our feet and shoved us in the car. Steve and Dylan went in the back. They pushed me into the front passenger seat.
They weren’t going to kill us here. Rykov wasn’t dumb. He’d kill us somewhere else so as not to leave any physical evidence.
Steve leaned over close to me and whispered. ‘We’ll take this prick on the road. He won’t be able to handle three of us at once.’
I nodded. It was the only option open to us. We didn’t stand a chance at the salvage yard.
The Russian behind the wheel looked at the three of us and reeled off a stream of Russian then laughed like he’d told the world’s funniest joke. He sat behind the wheel with the engine running but made no move to drive off. He just kept laughing and pointing at us.
Another of Rykov’s enforcers ran over to the crane and fired it up. I saw a sea of blank faces from the English speakers. What the hell was Rykov playing at?
Hancock put a hand to his mouth. ‘Oh, no. Oh, no,’ he kept repeating.
Then I understood. ‘Oh, God,’ I murmured.
‘What’s going on, Aidy?’
I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words.
The Russian behind the wheel snapped his fingers and pointed at me. Then he laughed again. ‘You get now, yes?’
‘What?’ Dylan said. ‘What’s going on?’
The Russian drove the Renault over to the crane and the car crusher. His compatriots thought it was the funniest thing in the world. They banged on the car’s roof as it went by. The Russian stopped the car and slid out. He waved at us and said in jagged English, ‘Bye, bye. Have good trip.’
‘Jesus Christ, they’re going to crush us, aren’t they?’ Dylan said.
I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. My silence was all the confirmation any of us needed.
Dylan bolted from the car. He got ten feet before one of Rykov’s men pistol-whipped him across the cheek. The blow chopped his legs out from under him. Two Russians picked him up and tossed him back in the car with us.
I looked at Steve. He looked a thousand years old.
‘Everything will be OK,’ he said.
I so wanted to believe him.
The crane rotated on its base and I closed my eyes when its magnetic plate crashed down on the Renault’s roof, then lifted the car off the ground.
Christ, this was it. We were going to die. My stomach clenched so tight it forced me to bend over. I wanted to see my future stretching years in front of me, but my mind blotted out the images, instead screaming you’re going to die, again and again.
The car swayed in the air and it gave all three of us a clear view of the crusher’s mouth. There were no teeth, just three independent hydraulic rams capable of reducing any vehicle to a cube and us along with it.