Gun Street Girl (26 page)

The stairs were wide and we climbed them in tandem. Each time we came to a floor, we both peered across the bare concrete looking for any sign of life. As soon as we were sure it was clear we gave the high sign and started climbing again. There were ten floors in all. By the time we'd both reached the seventh floor I think we both realised that Ginger and Catherine were going to be on the roof.

When we got to the tenth floor we walked across to meet each other. There was only one way up to the roof itself, a narrow metal staircase just wide enough for one person to climb at a time. The stairs went right up to a hole in the roof. The hole was open to the sky. Ginger had chosen well.

‘I'll go first,' I said.

‘No, I will,' insisted Endesleigh. ‘You're a member of the public. You know the old motto: “To protect and serve”.'

‘If you insist.'

He clambered up the metal stairs in front of me, poked his head through the hole and looked across the roof. A bullet spanged against the concrete by his head and he ducked back. ‘He's over on the corner, using some machinery and stuff as cover. She's with him. We can wait him out. Stick our heads up every now and then. When he runs out of ammunition we'll have him.'

‘We don't know how much ammunition he's got,' I said. ‘He might save the last bullet for the woman. Is the scaffolding right up to the roof?'

‘And a bit above.'

‘So no snipers?'

‘No, they'll never get a clear shot.'

‘Helicopter?'

‘A bit iffy,' he said. ‘I'll have to go down a couple of floors and come up the outside.'

‘I was hoping you'd say that.'

‘You're not volunteering?'

‘Can't stand heights. I'll stay here and attract his attention. He doesn't like me.'

‘I'm amazed. Give me ten minutes.'

I looked at my watch. ‘Okay.'

He went back down the metal stairs then down the wider stairs towards the ninth floor and vanished from sight. I was dying for a cigarette but I'd lost them somewhere. I flipped out the cylinder of the Taurus, discarded the three empty cartridge cases and re-loaded with three of my spares. I stayed at the top of the stairs, keeping my head down. When the ten minutes were up, I risked a look through the hole in the roof. Ginger was looking straight at me. He was holding Catherine round the neck and using her and a cement mixer and some bags of cement as cover. He fired off two snap shots which came close enough for me to hear. I ducked back down and I could still see Catherine's face. She was as white as a sheet and her blue eyes seemed to be burning out of her skull. She was disintegrating in front of me. I felt that terrible anger burning my guts again. I stuck my head out again and Ginger fired, and as a counterpoint to the slap of his silenced pistol I heard the deeper bark of a police-issue Colt from below.

I ducked down and back up in time to see him turn and fire over the edge of the roof. He let go of Catherine and she turned and lashed out at him with her nails. He screamed as her fingers raked his face. The gun went off harmlessly in the air and the breech of the Beretta blew back. Catherine was still too close to him for me to risk a shot. He pushed her and she stepped back. She lost her footing on the edge of the roof and fought for balance, her arms cartwheeling.

I pushed through the hole in the roof and ran towards her. She stepped back into space and her fingers caught at some loose netting which tore away from the scaffold. As she fell I caught her arm. The weight of her pulled me down onto the roof and the Taurus flew out of my grip, went over the edge and clattered down the scaffolding. The unfinished concrete cut into my chest and I felt the wound on my side tear open. Catherine was swinging like a pendulum on the end of my wrist. She started hitting and ripping at me with her other hand. I looked down and there was at least forty feet of space before the first platform of planks. If it was the same all the way round, I was done for. Endesleigh couldn't possibly get up to the roof.

I looked into Catherine's face and saw the madness burning in her eyes as they looked up at me. I turned my head and saw Ginger, blood pouring from the scratches on his face and a terrible smile on his lips, take aim at me. He snarled when he realised he was out of ammunition. He ejected the empty magazine, pulled another from his pocket, slapped it home and worked the breech to chamber a round. He brought the gun up and drew a bead on my head. I hung on to Catherine even though I knew it was over. I was so scared, I was hollow, and I knew if I shook I'd rattle. I was too frightened even to close my eyes. They were riveted to the big black hole in the ugly, bulbous silencer screwed to the barrel of the Beretta. Then I noticed movement at the far side of the roof and Endesleigh's head and gun hand poked over the top of the roof. Thank Christ, I thought.

Endesleigh fired and the bullet hit Ginger just as he squeezed the trigger of the Beretta. I saw his face register surprise and the gun moved as he fired. I felt as if I'd been kicked in the leg, hard. Ginger swung round and fired at Endesleigh. Endesleigh fired again and the ginger man went down on one knee and fired back. A bullet hit him in the shoulder and knocked him half round, but he kept firing, the big gun shaking in his fist. Another bullet went through his neck and blood fountained. He aimed one last futile shot before he fell forward onto his face.

I stayed where I was and, believe me, the concrete I was lying on felt good enough to eat.

Catherine was still slashing at my hand and I felt as if every tendon and muscle in my arm was being ripped out, and my leg burned as if it was on fire. I was close to blacking out and I felt Catherine's hand slip through mine. I concentrated hard on holding her. Endesleigh clambered onto the roof, kicked the Beretta far away and ran to me. He leant over the edge of the roof and reached down to take some of the strain of Catherine's weight. Together we pulled her back onto the roof.

This ebook edition first published
in 2013 by No Exit Press
an imprint of Oldcastle Books
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First published in 1990 by HEADLINE BOOK PUBLISHING PLC

All rights reserved

© Mark Timlin 1990

The right of Mark Timlin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN

978-1-84344-176-2 (print)

978-1-84344-177-9 (epub)

978-1-84344-178-6 (kindle)

978-1-84344-179-3 (pdf)

Typesetting by Avocet Typeset, Somerton, Somerset

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