Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) (15 page)

CHAPTER 16

Craig looked up at Bill, who appeared to be teetering on the edge after seeing another of his old friends die.

“I think Gordon injured Graeme,” said Craig.

“I wish he’d blown his fucking head off,” barked Bill.

“At least he’s aware we know it’s him. Hopefully that will be incentive enough for him to do a runner. Everyone knows what he looks like, it’ll be easy for the police to pick him up, that’s if Gordon didn’t fatally wound him. With any luck he’ll bleed to death.”

“You really think he might be gone?” said Deborah.

Craig wanted to give them hope, God knew they needed some. He was still feeling guilty for putting them on a downer earlier. The intense hatred he’d experienced against them had mercifully receded since Gordon’s death. He hoped it wouldn’t come back. “It’s possible. Right now he’ll be licking his wounds.”

“Well there you go then. It’ll all be over soon,” she said chirpily.

No one shared her enthusiasm.

Craig bit his lip thoughtfully. Was this the time for them all to make a run for it? No, he had no idea how badly injured Graeme was and it was a long way from the pub to the village boundary in the dark. Plus the majority of their number were pensioners who couldn’t run. Graeme had night vision, he could take them all down easily. No, stay put and try to stay alive. It was the only thing they could do. Or was it?

“Get that look off your face,” said Nora.

“What look?” replied Craig.

“The look that says you’ve had an idea, probably one that involves you doing something stupid and reckless.”

“I have actually.”

“Oh no Craig, just stay here.”

“I need to know if it really is Graeme doing this. I need to get into his cottage.”

“Don’t be so bloody thick. If Gordon was right and he did hit him where do you think he’ll go to patch himself up? His cottage.”

“No he won’t. He’ll go somewhere he can keep an eye on us from. His cottage has no view of the pub.”

“And what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t know that for sure. Why can’t you wait until the police arrive? You’ll find out then whether it’s him or not.”

“God knows how long that’ll take,” he said, lowering his voice so the others wouldn’t hear.

“But you said…”

“I know what I said but he might have set other booby traps to stop them getting through. This is far from over.”

“I think you’re right,” she sighed resignedly.

“What if Graeme has a stash of weapons at his place? We could really even up the odds.”

“It’s not worth your life.”

“If I don’t try it might cost us all our lives.”

“Why does it have to be you? Let someone else go.”

“I’m the senior officer and Hughes is absolutely no use.”

“Then tell Steve to go, you can give him orders, he’s below you. God help me for saying it, I like the boy but you are my son and my priority.”

He took her hands. “Mum, I’m the more experienced officer and I’ve been trained to handle firearms, Steve hasn’t. It has to be me. I’ll be fine,” he added when her eyes filled with tears. “Now’s the best time to go, Graeme’s been injured.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“If he was fighting fit he would have shot Gordon cleanly. He didn’t because he was hurt and couldn’t aim properly. I could end this before anyone else dies.”

“What are you talking about?” said Bill, sliding across the floor towards them. “Have you got a plan?”

“Craig has,” said Nora, “and as usual it’s completely insane but no matter what I say I’m not going to be able to stop him.”

“Sounds good. I’m in.”

“It’s safer for you here,” said Craig.

“Bollocks to that. He’s killed my friends.” Bill’s eyes settled on Gordon’s body covered with a bloodstained tablecloth. “And you need someone watching your back.”

“Steve can do that.”

“These people need a police officer with them, one who’s not injured or a spineless little worm,” said Bill, glowering at Hughes. “I’m coming with you and I’m bringing this with me.” He picked up Gordon’s shotgun, which lay beside his body.

“You can come if you really insist but I’m taking that,” said Craig, holding his hands out for the weapon. “If the killer does end up getting shot then it would be much better if he’s shot by a police officer. It’ll get really messy for you if you do it.”

“What do I care about that?”

“I bloody care. Now give.”

Bill sighed and dumped the gun in his hands. “It needs loading.”

“Where are the cartridges?”

“In his pocket,” he replied, nodding at Gordon’s body.

“Of course they are,” muttered Craig.

He slid his way across the room on his stomach, everyone watching, wondering what he was up to now.

“You can’t go through a dead man’s pockets,” said Jeanette. “It’s irreverent.”

“He’s not stealing from him,” barked Bill. “He’s getting the cartridges for the gun.”

“Oh.”

Craig sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against the wall as he loaded the shotgun. His dad had taught him how to use one when he was a teenager. This being a rural community most of the men owned one. It was a fucking shame they didn’t have them on them right now.

“You ready?” he said to Bill.

“Wait, where are you going?” said Steve.

“For a poke around Graeme’s cottage. I think he’s the sniper,” replied Craig.

“You can’t go out there, it’s suicide.”

“Save your breath Steve, I’ve already tried to talk him out of it,” said Nora, topping up her glass with the bottle of whisky Gordon had handed to her earlier with a sympathetic smile. The memory filled her eyes with fresh tears.

“He’s injured and weakened. Now’s the time,” said Craig.

“Someone has to do something,” said Deborah feverishly. “We can’t all sit here like lemons and wait for him to burst through the door. He knows the police are here and he’s running out of time. He’s going to be desperate.” She ended this speech with a loud exhalation and a bulging of the eyes that made her husband hug her tighter.

“You’re right,” said Craig. He stared at the gun in his hands before thrusting it at Steve. “Take this.”

“You need it if you’re going out there.”

“If he does come through that door you’ll be sitting ducks. With this you’ll be able to protect yourselves. Hopefully he’s got some weapons stashed at his place that we can use.”

“I live next door to him, I’ll get my shotguns. Two of the bastards,” said Bill proudly.

“Do you know how to handle one of these?” said Craig, placing the gun in Steve’s arms.

“I used one once, I went shooting with some friends, but it was a while ago.”

“I’ll show him,” said Jimmy.

“How’s that going to work with both your arms bandaged?” said Lizzy.

Before he could reply Hughes timidly put his hand up. “I know how to use one.”

“You’re not fucking touching it,” spat Craig. “Knowing you you’ll do a runner with it, leaving them defenceless.”

“I won’t. Please, I need to redeem myself.”

“You can do that by handing in your resignation when this is over,” said Craig coldly. He looked to Bill. “Ready?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” said Steve, holding the shotgun awkwardly.

“These people need you and so does Gary. We’ll be back soon.”

“You’d better be.”

“Craig, wait,” said Nora.

“I’m going Mum, nothing you can say will stop me.”

She slid her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry for our falling out over Freya.”

“I know and it’s okay.”

He gave her a gentle smile and a kiss on the cheek before scrambling on his hands and knees across the floor towards the back door with Bill. Steve left the shotgun next to Jimmy and followed them so he could lock the door behind them. That done, he crawled back to the main bar area.

“Don’t worry, they’ll back,” he told Nora.

“He’s already had two close calls,” she replied miserably, her strong front starting to disintegrate now her son had gone.

“You know what they say, luck comes in threes.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” she frowned.

“Hey, give that back,” called Jimmy.

Hughes snatched up the shotgun and retreated to the corner of the room clutching it in his sweaty hands. “I’m the senior officer here, I’m the best qualified to handle this.”

“You?” said Jimmy with disgust. “You’re a liability. You got one of your own men shot then you left him behind when he fell. You’re a disgrace.”

“I’m also the one holding the gun,” he sneered, the old arrogance returning now he felt he had the upper hand.

“So does that mean if Graeme bursts through that door you’re going to be the one to face him?” challenged Steve.

Hughes started to wilt. “Y…yes.”

“No you won’t, you’ll shite it like you did before, you wee turd.”

“Don’t speak to me like that. I’m sick of your backchat and your insults,” screeched Hughes, aiming the weapon at Steve, causing a few gasps of horror. “All you’ve done is make jokes about me and say nasty things behind my back.”

“Listen to yourself,” said Steve. “You’re not in the playground anymore. I’m not one of the bullies who no doubt tormented you through childhood. We’re grown men. We’re in a life and death situation and we know there’s no way you can handle it. Give me that back so you don’t have to deal with it.”

“No, it’s mine. I’m the one in charge here,” he yelled, sweat popping out on his brow, stamping one of his small feet.

“Are you going to shoot me?” said Steve, taking another step towards him.

“I will if you get any closer.”

Fearlessly Steve took another step forward.

“I mean it, stay back,” cried Hughes, his finger tightening on the trigger.

“Steve, stay where you are,” Nora told him. “The man’s gone mad.”

“Never could take any pressure, could you Hughes,” said Steve. “What are you going to do? Shoot me in front of dozens of witnesses? You’ll go to prison for the rest of your life. Imagine what they’ll do to you inside, especially when they find out you used to be a police officer. Your fat wee arse will be red raw.”

“Shut up, I mean it,” cried Hughes, his hands slick with sweat, almost causing him to drop the gun.

“Do it then you spineless wee fud,” roared Steve, throwing his arms wide. “Shoot me. Do you know the effect a close range shotgun blast has on the human body? It doesn’t make a neat little hole. It unleashes a volley of shot that tears it apart, shreds the internal organs. It’s devastating and there’s no coming back from it. If you think you can just wound me you’re wrong. You pull that trigger and you’ll kill me and probably whoever’s behind me.”

Deborah and Todd, who were sat directly behind where Steve was stood, slowly slid to one side.

“Don’t move,” Hughes yelled at them, causing them to stop. His sense of shame and foolishness only increased when he looked back at Steve, who was incredibly cool and calm, the picture of integrity, the professional police officer, who he’d always aspired to be. “I only want to help,” he whimpered.

“I know George but this isn’t helping.”

Hughes sucked in a deep breath and shook his head, as though clearing away unwanted thoughts. For some reason the use of his first name had brought him back to his senses and reminded him they were all in this together. “I was only going to show you how to use it. Jimmy can’t with both arms bandaged up. That’s all.”

“Okay George, you show me,” said Steve gently.

Hughes gave him a quick and concise demonstration before handing over the weapon. Steve took it and retreated several steps in case he changed his mind and decided to try and take it back. He crouched beside Gary, who wasn’t looking good.

“It’ll be over soon, just hang on.”

Gary didn’t even bother to respond, he just lay on the floor, ghost white and sweating, teetering on the brink of consciousness. Steve prayed Craig pulled off a miracle before they had to place Gary on the opposite side of the room with the other bodies.

Hughes groaned, buried his face in his hands and crouched back in his corner, frantically rocking. Everyone looked away, doing their best to ignore him.

The room sat in awkward silence - reforming their circle to avoid looking at the dead bodies - while Hughes continued with his rocking and moaning.

The quiet and stillness was shattered when, without warning, Hughes sprang to his feet with a sprightliness no one thought him capable of and rushed for the back door.

“Hughes, where are you going? Get back here,” called Steve, the only person who could be bothered to go after him.

“I have to do something. I’ve got to redeem myself,” he called over his shoulder as he threw open the door and disappeared into the night.

“Shut that bloody door,” said a panicky Todd, running up behind Steve, kicking it shut and slamming the bolts home.