Miss Take - Chapter 16(7594)

 

Chapter 16(7594)

Kelly was in no hurry to tell them how she had been captured, as it had happened much the same way as it had happened to Corum. When Kelly had first arrived, she had managed to infiltrate the party, sidling in with a group of kids that that had gone out into the garden briefly before being called back in by their parents.

Once inside she ran around with the children, tearing from room to room, keeping her head down and away from the adults as much as possible.

‘Who are you?’ one of the kids had asked. ‘How come you’re black?’

She realised then that she was the only other non-white kid at the party besides one half-Asian boy, and that in this nest of racists she would soon be noticed. There was no sign of Reggie though, so she had slipped away and searched around upstairs. There wasn’t anyone up there at all though, it had been roped off from the party guests and some of the doors were even locked. She had gone to a window in one of the hallways and looked out across the courtyard to a converted out-building – a creamery or something – and had seen some lights on. She unclipped the small binoculars from her utility belt, took a closer look and saw Price, sat at his desk, drinking alone.

Rather than going back downstairs she had opened the window and taken to the rooftops, entered the out-building through a skylight and skulked downstairs.

When she entered the office, he had looked up from his glass in confusion. ‘The party isn’t in here child. Go back to the main house.’

‘I’m not here for the party,’ she replied, crossing over to the desk.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded, knocking over his whisky glass as he stood up.

‘I’m someone that your pal Clarence Price shot at,’ replied Kelly. ‘Do you know where he is?’

Reggie reached for phone, but Kelly kicked him in the stomach and he fell to the floor. Kelly leaned over him and again asked, ‘where is Price?’

‘Are you the Squirrel?’ wheezed Cunningham as he got his breath back.

‘I’m not here to play Guess Who?’ hissed Kelly in reply as she grabbed his wrist and put it into a painful lock. ‘Just tell me where Price is.’

Cunningham had moaned in pain then gave up. ‘Fine… Fine. He’s here. I’ll take you to him.’

Kelly had been surprised by that, and had allowed Cunningham to lead her down to the wine cellar. Turning the last corner before the bunker she had been set on by three Aryan Brotherhood goons and although she had smashed in the faces of two of them, more kept arriving from upstairs until she was forced into the bunker and they had shut the door on her, Reggie screaming ‘Close that fucking door!’ repeatedly all the while. He’d gotten too close during the melee and she had fetched him a real clip on the side of his eye. Her last sight of him was as he leaded over, as if trying not to be sick, spitting and screaming as he clutched at his swelling face.

 

***

‘Sounds like we both fell for the same trick,’ said Corum as he eased himself down onto the bottom bunk to take the weight off his bad leg. He then gently leaned the crutch against the bed-post.

‘I should have known better,’ sighed Kelly, obviously angry at herself. ‘I shouldn’t have let him lure me down here. What a dope.’

‘Don’t feel bad,’ said Lavius. ‘No one else in this room is in any position to judge you. Why not Spider-man though? That would suit you better, no?’

‘I prefer Batman,’ replied Kelly. ‘He has a utility belt.’

‘Right,’ replied Corum with a nod, before turning to Price. ‘What are you doing here then?’

Price didn’t say anything at first, and Corum turned to Kelly who shrugged. After a long silence Price eventually spoke. ‘I want to do a deal.’

Both Kelly and Corum laughed at this absurd statement.

‘Bit late for that,’ pointed out Lavius. ‘Clarence Price, I am arresting you for the murder of Mabel Yoyuwevuto, Baxter Campbell, Trent McBride, Hamish Joules and Mack the fucking knife. You do not have to say anything, but…’

‘Fuck off,’ snapped Price.

Corum stopped talking and stood up again. He looked around the low-ceilinged room, full of shadows from the candle on the table. It was hot and airless, to Corum it felt like the candle was burning up all the oxygen.

‘We need to find a way out of here,’ he muttered to himself.

Kelly looked as if she was about to say something, but when he looked at her expectantly, she shook her head, and indicated she didn’t want to speak in front of Price. Corum shrugged and looked at Price who was still sitting at the table, away in some distant dream. When he felt Corum’s eyes on him he looked up blankly. Kelly kissed her teeth, jumped back onto the top bunk and lay down.

There was no means of escape, it didn’t take Corum long to work that out, and it wasn’t long before he too was stretched out on a bunk, awaiting his fate.

 

Hours passed. Corum started to need to pee.

‘There is a bucket over there,’ grunted Price, pointing to a covered pot in the corner.

Just as Corum was finishing his business, there was a creaking sound as the door was opened and several figures, silhouetted from the harsh strip-light in the other room, crowded at the doorway. Corum turned, winced and tried to make them out. It was Reggie, Trajan and two of his men. Trajan was holding a gun.

‘Stay where you are, don’t get up,’ said Trajan as he pointed the gun first at Price then at Corum. ‘Where is pricolici?’

‘She’s in there somewhere,’ said Cunningham, then with a shrill giggle added, ‘unless they’ve eaten her!’

‘A million for Price and a million for the policeman. The pricolici I throw in for free,’ said Trajan, eyeing them up as if bidding for cattle.

‘Deal!’ said Cunningham instantly.

‘What are going to do with us?’ asked Kelly as she moved to look out from the top bunk.

Trajan shrugged. ‘These two, we put bullet in head and dump bodies in the sea. You, pricolici, I plan something special.’

Corum stood up from the bunk, despite Trajan’s warning and looked Cunningham in the eyes. ‘Seriously Reggie? You’ve tried to murderer your way out of your problems twice already. You think this will work?’

Cunningham was soaked with sweat. His right eye was swollen shut. He licked his lips nervously, but didn’t speak.

‘I have people coming, bad people,’ Kelly abruptly blurted out. ‘Reggie, let us go and I can call them off.’

Reggie went white in the face and looked at Trajan nervously. The Romanian seemed to consider Kelly’s threat for a moment or two, but then eventually said, ‘The Pricolici has no people. I checked.’

‘No!’ cried Kelly as she jumped down from the bunk. ‘Lenny and his men are coming… oh…’

She stopped talking as the door was shut and locked.

‘That true?’ asked Corum once the grinding of the wheel stopped.

‘It maybe doesn’t matter now, and probably nothing will come of it,’ she replied, ‘but I told Niles to call Lenny if he didn’t hear from me after midnight.’

‘Jesus, and send them here?’

‘Yeah,’ Kelly shrugged.  ‘I told Niles to tell them that Mack’s killer was here.’

They both turned to look at Price, who gazed back at them blankly. ‘What?’ he asked.

 

An hour later, Price was still sat at the table, and Kelly and Corum were going through what she had on her utility belt. Reggie’s men had not been able to get it off her, no one had dared to try, so besides the plastic toys the belt had originally contained they still had her two knifes, her smoke bombs and all the other tools of her trade, all the way down to a zip lock bag of bacon. Corum ate it as they talked in whispers.

‘That’s for the dogs,’ she chided.

‘What dogs?’ he asked as he popped the last bit into his mouth and chewed it.

They also both still had their mobile phones, but there was no signal so deep underground.

There was a bang upstairs, like a gunshot, distant, but distinctive. They all stood up. There was a very distant and muffled scream. More violent noises followed.

‘The Hamiltons are here,’ said Corum.

Corum and Kelly moved to stand either side of the door. They had already decided that the next time the door opened they were going to try and make a break for it. They heard shouting, bangs, sounds of fighting. Then a scream from right outside the door.

The wheel turned and the door slowly opened.

Lenny Hamilton, still battered and bruised about the face from his first encounter with Kelly, but with no more dressing over his eye was stood silhouetted against the bright light of the room outside, holding Reggie by the scruff of the neck with his left hand, while brandishing a gun in the other. He scanned the room and saw Clarence Price, his brother’s killer, stood by the table.

‘Price,’ growled Lenny and pulled the trigger. At the same time, Corum’s crutch came scything down on Lenny’s arm, making him howl in pain and collapse to the floor. Violent confusion erupted as two of Lenny’s men tried to get their boss out of the way and swing the door shut. Corum’s ears were ringing from the shot as he started swinging wildly with the crutch, pushing them away from the door. The room and the corridor beyond started to fill with smoke, from the bombs that Kelly had tossed from the bunker. He spotted Reggie running down the tunnel and made to go after him, but ducked out of the way as more of Lenny’s men arrived. One swung at him with a club, but then flew back, collapsing as Kelly’s knife flew through the smoke and hit him in the chest.

He could see Kelly moving through the smoke, a ridiculous black caped figure with pointy ears, lashing out crippling punches and kicks to anyone stupid enough to come near her. Lenny’s men scattered, running back to the wine cellars. Corum pursued them, swinging his crutch and screaming like a mad man.

Kelly made it to the cellar first and stopped when Corum came limping up behind her. ‘Stop!’ he gasped. ‘Just wait. Someone must have called the police by now. They’ll be here soon.’

‘We just wait here then?’ she asked, puzzled, jumping from one foot from the other with excitement.

‘No, just wait for me, I’ll go first,’ he panted. ‘Upstairs is full of Nazi’s, gangsters and God knows what. I need to go arrest the lot of them.’

Kelly snorted derisively, but did as he asked, and together the made their way up the stairs and into the kitchen. There was a man lying face down under the table. Corum went to check him.

‘Alive,’ he said. ‘One of Reggie’s Aryan Brothers.’

 

The continued on into the main hall, following the shouting. Three of Lenny’s men, dressed in black and armed with clubs and knives were fighting half a dozen Nazis. The Aryan Brothers were throwing chairs at the Hamiltons and whatever else they could find, none of them were fighters though and they were giving ground.

They also had their backs to Kelly, who flew into them, knocking one flying with a round-house kick to the back of the head. She landed, turned and delivered an uppercut to another of Reggie’s men before they knew what was going on. The others fled up the stairs, and were pursued by the Hamiltons. One of them turned to Kelly and asked, ‘who the fuck are you?’

‘I’m on your side,’ she gasped. ‘I’m the one that called you.’

The man shrugged and followed his companions upstairs.

‘Kelly!’ yelled Corum as more Aryan Brothers arrived from through the main door, men who had been roused from their sleep in the converted stables across the driveway. They looked like tougher army types, and did not see Kelly as a threat.

‘Where’s your mum?’ one of them asked.

By way of reply Kelly drew out her knife and stabbed him in the thigh.

‘Jesus fuck!’ he screamed as he toppled to the floor, clutching his leg.

The other three men dropped into fighting stances.

 

Corum was about to join the fray when he heard screaming coming from the library. The screams continued and he decided that he’d probably only get in Kelly’s way anyway and that he’d better go and investigate. He went to the door and glanced back at Kelly. She seemed to be doing fine, if he was honest, a diminutive Batman, ducking and weaving between the larger combatants, slashing out with her knife at anyone that got too close.

He opened the door and entered the library. The women and kids were huddled in one corner as two of the Hamiltons menaced them with baseball bats. Corum got to them as fast as he could and felled one with a strong swing to the side of the head, the man falling to the floor like a sack of flour.

The other man, startled, swung wildly with his club, tripped, and fell bodily onto Corum. Corum was off balance and they both tumbled to the floor. The man recovered himself quickly and pressed the bat down onto Corum’s neck. Corum squirmed and struggled, but the Hamilton was stronger than him and he started to choke as the wood pressed down on his throat.

There was a smash, and a shower of broken glass. The man slumped and Corum pushed him to one side.

‘Oof! Thanks Auntie Bella,’ he groaned as she helped him up. ‘I hope that wasn’t valuable.’

‘This is all his fault isn’t it?’ she cried. ‘What has that idiot husband of mine done? Who are all these people?’

‘Has anyone called the police?’ he asked as he took his phone from his pocket.

Bella nodded, then burst into tears.

‘It’s ok,’ he said as reassuringly as he could manage. ‘The police are on their way. We’ll just stay here until they arrive, ok?’

 

***

Kelly glanced over her shoulder. Where had Corum gone? The three men she was now facing were ex-army. Tough, strong and used to taking punches. She was armed with a knife though and that was holding them off, that and the fact that they couldn’t quite believe who it was they were fighting.

‘This the one?’ asked the tallest of the men. ‘The one Reggie mentioned? The Squirrel?’

‘Must be,’ growled the one that looked the oldest. ‘Get the fucking knife off him…’

He yelped as the blade came flashing past his nose, making him stagger back. The third man lunged at her wrist, but she flicked the knife around in time to catch him on the finger.

‘Bastard!’ he cried as he put the bleeding digit into his mouth.

Kelly was being forced back up against the rear wall of the hall. Each time they went to grab at her she swung with the knife, but they were too quick to let anything land. Glancing over her shoulder again, she only had a couple of paces left before she was pinned to the wall and it would all be over. In a split-second decision, as the tall man swung a punch she pulled back her arm and threw the knife at him. It went in under his armpit, making him stagger back and fall over.

Using that moment, she turned and jumped onto the windowsill, then leapt into the air to catch onto the cornicing around the top of the wall. She heaved her feet up and then crawled along it like a squirrel along a clothes line. From there she reached a beam in the centre of the room and then was up into the middle of the three chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

‘Fucking get me an ambulance,’ groaned the man with the knife in him from down below as he lay on the wooden tiles bleeding.

The younger man leaned down to look at the hilt of the knife.

‘Don’t fucking touch it!’ cried the tall man, squirming out of the way.

The young man stood back up, stepped back with his hands held up. ‘No worries, Jimmy.’

The older man reached into his jacket and took out a phone. He gave it to the younger man.

‘Call 999, and go back to the block and get my gun. It’s in my bedside cabinet.’

The young man nodded and ran off with the phone to his ear. ‘Righto, Ken.’

When they were effectively alone Ken, pacing around under the chandelier, looked up and called up at her. ‘Just you wait, ya wee squirrely cunt.’

‘Fuck off,’ Kelly shouted back.

‘I’m going to put a bullet in you,’ Ken growled back. ‘Then I’m going to skin you. Fuck!’

He swore when a bit of glass from the chandelier Kelly had thrown caught him on the cheek. He held his hand up to the wound and swore up at her. ‘You wee fucker! Just you wait! Fuck!’

Kelly began to swing the chandelier, hoping that the chain that was holding it wouldn’t break. Ken looked up in confusion. To him it looked like she had nowhere to go, the other chandeliers were well out of reach and the fall from so high up could easily break a leg.

Kelly wasn’t aiming for the other chandeliers though; she was aiming for Jimmy. On the last largest upswing she let herself down by the arms and tumbled down onto the tall man’s body. She felt his ribs break with a sickening crunching sound as her feet and knees landed on his chest. Ken snarled and rushed at her and as he bore down on her, she yanked the knife out of Jimmy’s armpit and threw it at him. It stuck him right in the stomach and he doubled over, landing on his forehead with a loud crack.

With shaky legs Kelly stood up and took a few steps. She’s injured her knees, not badly, but they would be swollen up soon and she’d be barely able to walk. Both of her assailants were now motionless and leaking blood over the freshly polished tiles.

She limped out of the hall and towards a door that lead out into the courtyard, wondering if she’d just killed two men.

Leaning against the exterior wall for a moment to get her breath back she looked out towards Cunningham’s office. The lights were on and she could see him stuffing his pockets from items taken out of his desk drawers. He then ran out of a side door and towards the vegetable gardens at the back of the house. He was already halfway through it by the time Kelly decided to give chase. Wincing at the pain in her knees she stumbled after him.

As she got more out into the open, she could here police sirens, and off to her left she saw Trajan and his two goons piling into an expensive looking van and speeding off down the drive as fast as they could, sending the gravel flying.

Cunningham was old and not fast, but Kelly was no runner either and in pain from her fall. She followed him doggedly down through a copse of trees and out onto a hiker’s path that lead through an overgrown meadow. It was dark and overcast, but the faint orange light of nearby housing schemes provided just enough illumination to see the path in front of her.

She could here him panting, shouting into his phone, begging with Trajan to come and pick him up.

‘Just get here! I’ll give you anything,’ he gasped. ‘Meet you at the fucking horses, alright?’

The path continued between the two villages, or whatever they were, and as they turned a corner, the Kelpies came into view again. Cunningham was slowing down, gasping and choking for air, and Kelly was slowly gaining on him. He knew she was there, he kept on looking over his shoulder to check on her, and her presence behind him, a dark winged shadow, spurred him on despite his exhaustion. Cunningham, still dressed as Dracula, loosened and threw of his cloak, then his collar and cravat, fighting for breath as he staggered on.

Finally, the path lead through some woods, which then opened up and lead down to a canal. The two massive horse’s heads, lit up with blue up-lighters, loomed over them, ancient mythical Celtic creatures come to life. Cunningham kept running, past the car park and visitor centre until he reached the canal that ran between the two heads and turned. There nowhere else to go.

Kelly slowed down to a walking pace. Reggie was trapped, with water on all sides, he held up his hands and tried to speak, but he was too spent to do anything other than gasp for air, his clothes dishevelled and dirty, with white makeup running in rivers of sweat down his face. His eye was so large and swollen now, it looked like a squashed tomato. He turned his head to try and focus his one remaining good eye on her. ‘No, no, wait…’ he finally manged to gasp.

‘After everything you’ve put me through, I should drown you in the canal,’ threatened Kelly as she slowly moved closer to him. In reality though, she realised she didn’t know what she was going to do next. She had no plan.

‘Who are you?’ he groaned. ‘The Squirrel? The Pricolici? Who?’

‘I’m Batman.’

Cunningham managed to stammer out a laugh. ‘Listen, whatever you think… you think I did to you… I’ve got… I’ve got money…’

 

There was the roar of an engine and a crash over where the main road was, noises that made them both turn to look. A van came crashing down from the dual carriage way and barrelled down the bank to come to a halt not far from where Kelly was standing.

The side door slid open and Trajan stepped out.

He started walking towards Cunningham, two of his men joined him, coming up from behind on either side.

‘We not fight the pricolici again,’ Trajan called out. ‘He is demon.’

‘A million!’ gasped Cunningham. ‘A million if you do.’

‘You and your millions,’ replied Trajan, in a relaxed tone. ‘So far I have not seen them.’

Cunningham desperately yanked two rings from his hand, and pulled a chain from his neck.

‘Here!’ he cried. ‘Here! The rings are twenty thousand each. The necklace is ten. I’ve got fifty thousand pounds here in my pocket.’

Cunningham dropped and then stooped to pick up one of the rings. He then handed it all up to Trajan, making his pathetic offerings from his knees. Trajan nodded to one of his men, who pulled a green Asda bag from his pocket and held it open. Cunningham placed all his loot into it.

‘Very good,’ said Trajan who then took a gun from his pocket and looked around. The area they were in, right under the horse’s heads was well lit up, but there was no sign of the Pricolici.

‘Spread out,’ he growled at his men. ‘She is here somewhere.’

***

The Scottish Aryan Brotherhood were a spent force. All the tough ones had been beaten to a pulp and the weaker ones had fled. Lenny, considering his mission accomplished was leading his men in smashing the place up prior to his departure.

Every crash that echoed through the house made the women gasp and the children cry. Corum did his best to calm them, but the police seemed to be taking their time getting to the house. There probably wasn’t enough of them and they were calling in reinforcements, or perhaps they were too busy dealing with fleeing Nazis, he had no idea.

He could hear the sirens though, and opened the full-length curtains to see how far away the police cars were. He could see distant blue and red lights flashing between the trees at the bottom of the drive. Down there behind the thick hedgerow was the main gate he had driven through earlier that evening.

There was a noise in the hallway outside the library door and a grunt of pain. Corum opened it a crack and saw Price stumbling towards the door, one hand clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers and the other holding a gun while also resting against the wall.

Corum quietly stepped through into the hall.

‘It’s over Price,’ said Corum, making the old man look up. ‘Give up. Give me the gun.’

Price still had some fight left in him though. ‘Get me out of here copper,’ he whispered through tight lips.

Corum took a step towards Price, who raised the gun and pointed it shakily at him.

‘Don’t fuck with me copper.’

Corum stepped back again and reaching behind his back, gently shutting the door he had just come through.

‘What’s in there?’ asked Price.

‘Nothing,’ replied Lavius. ‘You want to go? Let’s go. My car is out front.’

He then led Price out through to where his car was parked. He made a show of carefully getting out his car keys to Price, who just motioned with him to get on with it.

Corum got in the driver’s seat and Price eased himself in the passenger side, hissing in pain as he sat down. ‘You need a hospital,’ observed Lavius.

‘Just shut up and drive,’ replied Price, holding the gun with his left hand, pointing it at Corum.

Corum started the engine and drove off, slowly along the driveway and through the trees. Armed police were advancing through the bushes off to the right. There were police cars blocking the gate.

Once he had driven as far as it was possible to go, Corum stopped. Armed police were pointing sub-machine guns at them from the gate. Blue and red lights were flashing into the car.

‘Shoot me again if you want. But this is the end for you,’ said Corum as calmly as he could.

‘God dam you!’ hissed Price holding the gun up to Corum’s head so that the police outside could see it. ‘I should shoot you right here!’

‘Go ahead,’ replied Lavius. ‘I saved your life back there in the bunker, in case you didn’t notice, by the way.’

‘Just stay where you are!’ demanded Price. He tried to grab Corum with his right hand, but he couldn’t move it. He didn’t dare let go of the bullet wound he was holding. ‘I’ll shoot you, don’t think I won’t.’

‘That won’t help you.’

It was beginning to dawn on Price now that he had no way out. He was pale, losing blood, he probably couldn’t stay conscious much longer.

‘I had a rough upbringing,’ he suddenly blurted out, leaning his head back limply. ‘My father beat me every day. I joined the army when I was just a kid, anything to get away. I…’

‘I know plenty of people that have had really awful childhoods,’ said Corum, as if losing his patience. ‘I meet lots of them in my line of work. None of them have ever shot me. I’m on a crutch because of you.’

Price continued to hold the gun to Corum’s head. ‘Tell them to let us through or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.’

‘No,’ replied Corum. ‘I won’t be doing that.’

Price made no reply, perhaps unable to think of one.

‘Well, see you later Price. I’m getting out of the car now. You can shoot me again or not, that’s up to you.’

Slowly Corum reached for the car door and opened it, then as he straightened up he held his hand above his head.

‘I’m a police officer!’ he called out as the armed police moved in.

Price let the gun drop. Uniformed officers dragged him out of the car and off towards the waiting ambulances.

‘My warrant badge is in my jacket pocket,’ said Corum.

‘You can lower your hands, sir,’ said the policeman that checked his card.

Corum dropped his arms then looked at his hands. He expected them to be shaking, but they were not. He didn’t know what it was he was meant to feel now. He just felt numb.

 

***

One of Trajan’s men, an ugly shaven-headed brute, edged around the front of their van, holding a combat knife in his right hand. Trajan signalled to his other goon, a gaunt young man with sunken cheeks and earrings, who slowly unzipped his jacket and put it down to reveal his muscular tattooed arms.

Trajan hissed at him to get a move on and the young man circled wide, nervous of the gun that Trajan was pointing in that direction. There was a smacking sound like a melon being hit with a spade and the shaven-headed man fell backwards onto the paving stones, cracking his head.

Trajan and tattoo-arms watched as horror as his to unconscious body was dragged in behind the van, his head and torso slowly disappearing from view. Trajan motioned with his gun for his other man to get in there and flush Kelly out.

‘Go round other side, Jakub,’ he whispered.

Jakub reached behind his back and drew out a sheathed knife. He then uncovered the blade and threw down the sheath. He then started walking a slow wide circle around the van. Trajan started edging around the other side.

The back of the van was in the shadows, so Jakub didn’t see where the batarang came from that hit him right between the eyes. He staggered back and rubbed his head. There was no blood, to his surprise, and he stooped to look at the thing that had hit him. It was a sort of cheap plastic toy that had being filled with sand to make it heavier, painful but harmless.

He caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows and cried out to Trajan, who moved around the other side of the van to try and get line of sight. Another batarang came flying out from the darkness making him duck. In that brief second of confusion, a dark cloaked and screaming figure came flying out of the darkness at him. He fired wildly, two shots which both missed. A leg swooped round with incredible force onto his wrist and the gun went flying, falling into the canal with a plop. The dark figure kept the kicks and punches coming and Trajan, his arm still painful from the first kick, did his best to defend himself as he rabidly stepped backwards.

Tattoo-arms came rushing in with his knife, slashing and stabbing and the dark figure ducked around behind Trajan, using him for cover, then threw another batarang.

‘Jesus!’ cried the goon, as the plastic weapon hit him right in the eye. ‘Jesus Christ!’

Trajan turned angrily and came at the dark figure in an amateurish boxing stance, cautiously advancing, but ended up flat on his back when his legs were swept out from under him.

 

Jakub, blinking and wincing, came at the dark masked figure again, giving Trajan time to stand up. They advanced together, circling, making feinting attacks, looking for an opening. Circling, Trajan managed to grab the cloak, but all that he succeeded in doing was ripping it off.

Before Kelly could recover her balance, Jakub stabbed at her, and she barely managed to block it. He caught her with the back swing though, and the hilt of the dagger smashed into her left cheek.

Kelly staggered back, crying out in pain and the young man with the knife pressed his advantage, coming in again with a flurry of wild slashes. He was leaving himself wide open though and judging her moment perfectly as his slashes came in closer, she ducked under his arms and planting her foot into the crook of his knee, shouldered him into the canal.

She didn’t get a chance to enjoy the victory as, taking a chance, Trajan ran up and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. She wriggled around and bit him on the hand. Ignoring the pain, he used his other hand to gut-punch her, his great meaty fist slamming into her belly like a sledgehammer. She collapsed to the ground, trying to breathe.

There was splashing coming from the canal and cries for help, but Trajan ignored them. Casting around on the ground he spotted the dagger and picked it up with his bleeding hand.

‘Now get you fucking bitch,’ he snarled at her, but he was hesitant to lean over her in order to use the knife. Instead he tried to stamp on her, but she rolled out of the way. He tried again, then a kick, but each time she rolled away just in time. He cursed and kicked wildly at her, but by now she had recovered and as his leg wound back for another kick she pushed up with her arms, her feet coming up like pistons into his crotch. With a strangled squeak, he collapsed.

 

Kelly needed to get her breath back. The other one was already dragging himself out of the canal. She needed to get out of the open as well, go hide somewhere she could use the terrain to her advantage. She limped towards the visitor centre.

 

***

Groaning Trajan levered himself up to a standing position. Jakab was stood nearby, soaking wet, looking like a drowned fool.

‘What now?’ asked his henchman.

‘This is personal,’ snarled Trajan. ‘I kill this bitch.’

‘Boss,’ came a voice from over at the van. Dramak was on his feet, blood on his face. He was pointing at the visitor centre. Trajan and Jakab walked over to him. Dramak was gently pressing at his nose and wincing.

‘It broken, you stupid cunt,’ said Trajan. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

He leaned into the van and pulled out a tire iron and once they were at the centre, he used it to smash the glass door and get inside. An alarm went off, which he ignored.

Trajan all but pushed Dramak inside, who was in no hurry to meet again the person that had just broken his nose. ‘Pricolici…’ he muttered under his breath as he took a knife from his belt.

There were rows of shelves selling the usual sorts of souvenirs, books and other tat. Trajan motioned Dramak to his right and Jakub to his left. He himself took the central aisle as they headed towards the tills. It was dark, but illuminated by the blue lights from outside.

Something hard and heavy flew out of the darkness and hit Dramak on the top of his head, sending him flying into a display of postcards. Trajan and Jakub ducked as more snow globes came flying at them. None hit though, instead exploding over their heads as they hit the shelves, showering them in glass and water.

It all went quiet again. Trajan crawled over to where Dramak had fallen, but judging by the amount of blood that was coming out of his head he wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

Trajan picked up a tea-tray, using it as a shield and stood up to look around. He saw movement in the shadows at the back of the shop.

‘Over there!’ he shouted at Jakub who stood up and looked over the shelves. The pricolici appeared as if from nowhere and with a high-pitched scream stabbed Jakub in each of his legs with two souvenir pens. He screamed and turned to flee, but a flying kick in the back sent him crashing to the floor, where he stayed, crying and begging for mercy in Romanian as he curled up in a ball, wedged between two racks of T-shirts.

Trajan picked up a cup and threw it. It hit the pricolici in the back, making her duck out of sight. Something heavy, a wooden sculpture or something came flying back and he batted it away with the tea-tray. He picked up and returned fire with whatever he could lay his hands on, cups, statuettes of the kelpies, paper-weights, anything heavy.

The pricolici leapt over the counter at the back of the shop and Trajan took the opportunity to turn and run for the door. It was blocked by a fallen shelf and he wrenched it aside desperately as he heard movement behind him. Something sharp hit him in the right elbow. He howled in pain as he looked down to see that Dramak’s knife had just embedded itself in his arm, between the bones. A snow-globe smashed over his head as he slumped to the ground.

His right arm hung limply, completely dead. He raised his left hand. ‘Enough pricolici! Enough…’ The pain was so intense, he could feel himself blacking out.

As he slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw was a small dark figure sweeping past him and out of the door, like a shadow-demon from the worst nightmares of Romanian folk-lore.

 

Kelly was tired, badly beaten and tired, but she had one last thing to do. Cunningham hadn’t moved, he was still stood between the Kelpies waiting to see what happened, looking lost and terrified. When he saw Kelly emerge from the centre he seemed to come to his senses and started running towards the van.

He didn’t make it. Kelly ran up behind him and sent him tumbling onto the pavement with a kick in the back. Then her other leg lashed out and the heel of her foot came down hard on his knee, dislocating it. He cried out, sobbed, tried to crawl to the van, then passed out.

Kelly walked slowly over to where her cape was and put it back on. She then went over to the discarded green plastic bag and picked it up. She looked inside, whistled through her teeth then bundled it up and stuffed it down her belt.

She could here the sirens of cop cars and she realised she was in no shape for running. Kelly spat out some blood and looked up at the giant horse heads.

 

***

Hours later, in the small hours of the night before dawn, Lavius was on the scene, shinning a torch into the broken window of the visitor’s centre.

All the injured, Cunningham, Trajan and his men were being bundled into ambulances and taken away. Uniformed policemen swarmed everywhere.

His Chief, a stocky woman in her late fifties approached him. ‘The work of your informant Gavin Newgate I take it?’

Corum shrugged. ‘I’d say so. Broken noses and skull fractures, that’s usually a good indication.’

‘What a mess,’ she replied, lighting a cigarette then offering him the packet. ‘Still, two of Edinburgh’s biggest gangs effectively wiped out. We should give your pal Gavin a medal.’

‘We could give him the reward money for Price.’

‘Maybe,’ she said as she turned to walk away. ‘But it was you that took him down.’

Lavius turned to follow. ‘I thought I’m in trouble? I should have told you my suspicions about Reggie earlier.’

‘Maybe,’ she mused. ‘I’d play it cool if I were you. Save it for the enquiry. Is there much chance of getting your pal to testify before all the trials?’

‘I could ask I suppose.’

‘Huh,’ she grunted, indicating she wouldn’t hold out much hope. ‘I’m going back to the nick. I suggest you go home Corum, this isn’t your investigation any longer. I’ll send a car in the morning. If you happen to see Mr Newgate, let me know.’

She got into a police car and was driven away. Lavius looked up at the horse’s head and thought he saw a small black shaped lodged in one of the horse’s ears.

Eventually he looked away and shaking his head, started walking back to the main road.

With a thin smile he took his phone from his pocket and called a taxi.

 

***

Kelly lay on a lounger by the pool of the Lugar Hotel, looking out over the Portuguese coast from the balcony. The weather was cool though and she was fully clothed. She was considering going to get her coat, but was too comfortable and on her third cocktail.

It was February now, but she still had plenty of money. She had three British newspapers folded on her lap. Everything had moved on now, the trails of Price and Cunningham rumbled on. Trajan and the Vampires had already been put in prison. Lenny and the other Hamiltons had cut deals with the court, Lenny himself gave evidence against Price concerning the Pebble House shootings.

Three men had died that night at Almond Castle, two of the Scottish Arian Brotherhood and one of the Hamiltons. All of them stabbed to death. The name of Gavin Newgate barely got a mention, and if it was written in the press at all it was always in association with the Hamiltons. A writer for the Guardian had connected Newgate to “The Squirrel” and on first reading this she had started to get nervous, but after a few weeks she never saw it mentioned again.

Besides, everyone was getting all excited about this new virus that had come out of China and was now hitting Italy. Plans for the BBC to make a three-part dramatization of the events called “The Almond Castle Massacre: What really happened in Scotland’s Deadliest Gang War” had been scrapped.

Kelly tossed the papers aside, stood up and went to the balcony rail. Across the sea were distant cliffs, and above them, rows of opulent villas, white patches on the tree covered slopes.

 

She had no strong desire to go home and was trying to persuade her gran to come out, but the old lady was stubbornly refusing to get on an airplane. She had only sent a couple of messages to Niles to let him know she was doing ok. She felt bad for how much she had involved him in everything and was letting things settle down.

All she had to worry about now was her PTSD, the nightmares and flashbacks to all the bloodshed and the multiple times she had nearly been killed back in Scotland.

Her phone chimed and she took it out of her pocket. She then looked around and up at the veranda above the pool. A waiter or another member of staff opened a door and Corum Lavius stepped out. He shaded his eyes, spotted her and gave her a wave. He did not have a crutch.

‘Hello Miss Take,’ he said as he joined her at the rail. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and chinos, but didn’t seem to mind the cool air.

‘What do you look like?’ she asked.

He looked down at his shirt. ‘A copper on holiday.’

‘Good grief’ she sighed in reply.

‘Yeah, I know, right?’ laughed Lavius as he casually started to roll himself a cigarette.

‘Leg better?’

‘As good as new,’ he said as he lit the cigarette and tossed the dead match over the balcony. He blew out smoke with a satisfied sigh.

‘You seem pleased with yourself anyway,’ she admitted. ‘Hey, where is my reward money?’

‘That was never going to happen,’ he confessed. ‘I’ll buy you dinner tonight, how about that?’

‘Fine,’ she grumbled. ‘How’s your dad?’

‘Oh, you know,’ replied Corum as he puffed on his cigarette. ‘He was treated as a witness against Cunningham. He was fine. It was me that was sailing close to the wind all the way through the trail.’

‘How come?’

‘Because of you,’ he smiled at her. ‘Gavin Newgate, the pricolici, who may or may not have been a girl, and certainly didn’t have a big sister called Stacey. ACU are all over me, but fuck ‘em.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Kelly truthfully.

‘It doesn’t matter, I hardly had to perjure myself at all. It helped that I managed to smooth talk myself into looking like a bit of a hero. “The cop that caught Price”, sort of thing.’

‘I know,’ Kelly nodded. ‘I’ve kept the newspaper clippings.’

They stood and looked out across the sea. Kelly edged towards Lavius and rested her head on his arm.

‘Are you eyeing up those cliffs?’ he asked a little hesitantly. ‘I don’t think you are allowed to climb them.’

‘I’m not looking at the cliffs,’ she replied. ‘Although I am thinking of other skills that need to be kept up.’

Lavius passed his eyes over the lavish looking villas, but said nothing. He cautiously put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to stand my company for three weeks?’

‘Sure,’ she admitted. ‘I was only ever mean to you when I was stressed. I’m actually super nice really.’

Lavius swallowed a sarcastic reply.

‘Do you think you’ll ever go back to the UK?’ he asked eventually.

‘Maybe,’ she mused. ‘Maybe in the summer, July or August, just to see gran.’

‘Sure,’ murmured Lavius. ‘I expect everything will this new virus will have calmed down by then.’

They looked out across the sea together, each lost in their own thoughts.