Souls At Zero (A Dark Psychological Thriller) (27 page)

Edger didn't fire blind. Despite the pain in his right shoulder, he was able to point the Beretta out in front of him, holding it steady until he had a shot. It was a risk. The shooter could have killed Edger if his shots had of been more accurate. Instead, the shooter burst in and sprayed the kitchen with bullets in the hope one would hit Edger, but none of them did. Edger didn't fire until he had a shot. He squeezed the trigger and put a 9mm round through the other shooter's neck. The shooter froze as he dropped his weapon, staggering back into the wall as arcs of blood began to jet from his punctured jugular. When Edger fired again, the bullet hit the shooter in the temple, creating a red rose on the wall just as the shooter fell dead to the floor.

Adrenaline pumping through his system like rocket fuel, his ears ringing from all the shots, Edger got quickly to his feet and did a cursory check of the bullet wound in his shoulder. He still had some movement in it, so the bullet obviously hadn't hit any bones. Soft tissue damage only, for which he was thankful, but he was losing a lot of blood through the gaping hole in his front deltoid. He didn't have time to do anything about it, not yet anyway. He had to get Kaitlin and get as far away from the farm as possible in case any more shooters turned up.

Before he left the kitchen, he did a quick check on the body of the shooter he had shot with the Beretta. Young guy in his twenties, dressed all in black. No identifying tags. Most likely mercenaries, working for whoever the hell Declan had been involved with.

Declan.

He still couldn't believe his brother had turned up after all these years. Neither could he believe that Declan was
really
dead now, even though the man who got shot in the barn little resembled the brother Edger remembered from all those years ago. He still felt sick when he thought of his brother's head being blown off right in front of him.

He shook his head and went to the cubbyhole under the stairs, the Beretta still in his left hand as he looked up and down the hallway for signs of any more shooters. "Kaitlin?"

She was huddled in the corner of the tiny space under the stairs, shaking, obviously traumatised and in shock from all the shooting. She didn't come to him immediately, but stayed where she was like a frightened rabbit.

He held his bloody right hand out. "It's me, Kaitlin," he said as gently as possible. "You're safe now, love. We have to go."

Kaitlin slowly extended one hand for him to take, and he guided her out of the cubbyhole. When she stepped outside, she looked down at the bodies lying in the kitchen and released a shuttering breath at the horror of seeing two obviously dead men on the floor. Edger pulled her to him. "Don't look, Kaitlin."

"Can we go home now, Daddy?" she asked him in the smallest of voices.

"Yes, love." He was looking into the living room. "First I need you to help me. Can you do that?"

She looked up at him and her face nearly reduced him to tears. "Yes."

"That's my girl."

Edger moved into the living room and Kaitlin followed behind him. She stopped to stare at the dead shooter slumped against the wall.

"Don't look," he said, getting her attention, and then pointing to a laptop lying on the floor next to the canvas bag filled with weapons. "Pick the laptop up for me."

Kaitlin went and picked the black laptop up, sliding it underneath one arm. He saw her wince with every movement she made, but he resisted the urge to tend to her. Now wasn't the time, not when their lives were still in danger.

He turned and looked at the photographs on the wall. The first one, with the smears of blood on it, he knew was a recent photo of Brian McGinty. As he looked at the rest of the men in the photos, Edger realised that he recognised all but one of them. Each of the men were powerful figures in business, and at some point in the past year, Edger realised that they had all availed of Rankin's VIP protection services. Edger himself had worked alongside Rankin on each of the details. He stared at the photos a moment longer, wondering if it was just a coincidence that he had come in contact with all these men. Then he shook his head. He hadn't time to think about it. Whatever the connection was, if any, he would figure it out later when he spoke to Rankin about it.

Switching the Beretta to his bloody right hand, he used his left hand to take all the photos of the wall and dropped them into the large canvas bag on the floor. Then he went to the dead man on the other side of the room and took the guy's weapon, along with the spare clips attached to the front of his body armour. Bringing the gun and the magazines over to the bag, Edger dropped them in before grabbing the bag by the straps and hoisting the straps over his left shoulder, groaning at the pain it caused his other shoulder.

"Daddy, you're hurt," Kaitlin said.

"I know, love. I'll be fine though. Let's go. We're getting out of here."

Edger went first, the heavy bag over his shoulder, the Beretta in his left hand. When he got to the front door, he stopped and looked around outside, hoping there were no snipers in the fields beyond. If there was, there wasn't much he could do about it from where he was. He needed to get to the car though, so getting shot at was a chance he would have to take. He stepped out of the front doorway and moved quickly towards the Ford Fiesta, stopping when he realised Kaitlin was some ways behind him, limping as fast as she could. Again, his heart nearly broke seeing her so obviously in pain, yet still moving with such grit and determination. He went back for her, helping her along as best he could, all the while keeping an eye out around him until they reached the car.

Edger dropped the heavy canvas bag to the ground, relieved to get it off his shoulder. He opened the back door of the Fiesta and told Kaitlin to lie on the back seat, and to keep her head down until he told her otherwise. The twelve year old silently climbed onto the back seat of the car and lay down after placing the laptop she still carried on the floor. Shutting the door, Edger lifted the bag of weapons and put them in the boot, before slamming the lid closed and going to the driver's side door. He hesitated when he went to open the door however, his eyes staring over at the barn.

Declan's body was still inside the barn.

He couldn't just leave his brother behind, even after what he had done.

Edger opened the back door of the car and told Kaitlin to stay down, that he would just be a minute. He saw the panic in her eyes when she realised he was leaving her. "Trust me," he said. "I'll only be a minute."

Kaitlin nodded and he closed the door.

He ran to the barn, Beretta still in hand.

His older brother's body lay lifeless on the dirty concrete floor, a pool of dark blood spread out around his head. His eyes were still open, staring lifelessly up at Edger. Edger knelt down and pulled his brother's eyelids down over his dead eyes, then he sat looking down at his brother for a moment, wishing things could have turned out differently.

But they hadn't, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

He pushed the Beretta into the shoulder holster and bent down to pick up his brother's body. Lifting his brother's upper body towards him, he grabbed him under the armpits, disgusted when a large piece of his brother's brain fell out of the hole in the back of his skull and landed on the floor with a wet slapping sound. He did his best to push down the nausea that rose in him, and despite the pain in his right shoulder, he was able to lift his brother's body up and over his left shoulder, then he walked as quickly as he could out of the barn and back to the car, where he opened the boot and dropped his brother's body inside with a heavy thump. Because of everything else that was inside the boot, Edger had to arrange Declan's body a bit in order to get the boot closed. When that was done, he went to the driver's side door and got inside the car himself.

He started the engine immediately, then looked over into the back seat at his daughter who lay curled up and quivering like a puppy who had suffered too much abuse, her face drawn, her eyes blank. He'd seen the same look many times on the faces of soldiers overwhelmed by conflict and violence. It was shock. He knew he had to get her home as quickly as possible before she degraded further. "Hold on, love," he reassured her. "We're going home."

Kaitlin said nothing in response, just blinked back at him.

Edger stared at his daughter a moment longer, and then turned around and started to drive away from the farmhouse, up the dirt road. As he did, he kept looking from side to side, trying to see if anyone was hiding in any of the fields surrounding the dirt road, and so far, he saw no one. The uneven surface of the dirt road was causing the small car to bump up and down, and from side to side, like it was on hydraulics. The constant movement was making him wince at the pain it caused in his injured shoulder. It wasn't the first time he had been shot. He had been shot twice in his career as a soldier, both times sustaining only minor damage thankfully, but it still hurt like hell, just as the bullet wound in his shoulder hurt like hell now, despite the adrenaline still surging through his system. He hadn't had a chance to properly examine the wound yet, but it felt like blood loss was minimal. At least he didn't feel like he was going to pass out, not yet anyway.

When he got to the main road he started driving as fast as he could back towards the city, determined to get Kaitlin back to her mother as soon as possible, for both their sakes. His mobile phone still lay on the front seat, and he lifted it, holding the wheel with his injured arm, which proved painful. He dialled Gemma's number.

"It's me," he said when she answered. "I've got her. We're coming home."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Gemma was waiting outside the brownstone office building in Donegal Square when Edger finally pulled up outside. He barely had time to shut the engine off before his ex-wife had the back door open.

"Kaitlin…oh my God…Kaitlin!" she cried, picking her daughter up off the back seat and hugging her tight.

Edger got out of the car. "We need to go inside," he said. He kept looking around him. Passers-by were frowning over at them.

"Harry."

Edger turned to see Rankin coming towards the car. "John," he said. "We need to get them inside."

Rankin nodded, understanding straight away that the danger was not yet over.

Gemma had Kaitlin in her arms, heading towards the front doors of the office building. Rankin ran ahead and opened the doors for her. Edger looked up and down the street again, then headed inside the building himself.

When they got upstairs to the office, Gemma laid Kaitlin down on a black leather sofa. Kaitlin's face was pale and covered in dirt. She kept wincing in pain as Gemma checked her over, Gemma crying when she looked at the bandaged stump where Kaitlin's left pinkie finger used to be. "She needs a hospital," Gemma said.

There was another woman in the room that Edger didn't recognise. Early thirties, long dark hair tied in a ponytail, swarthy skin, dressed in a blue nurses uniform. The woman went over to Kaitlin and began to examine her as Kaitlin lay in silence, the shock of her experience hitting her hard now.

"My younger sister," Rankin said, when he saw Edger staring at the nurse. "Bernadette. I figured one or both you might need immediate medical assistance."

Edger merely nodded and sat down heavily in the chair by Rankin's desk. Most of the adrenaline had left his system, and he felt completely drained by the drive back from Black Mountain. As he rummaged in his jacket pocket for his tobacco tin, Donna came over, put her arms around his neck and squeezed. "I'm glad you're alright, Harry," she said, her eyes wet.

"Ow," he said, after she hugged him.

Donna looked at the hole in his jacket, and then at the blood still dripping from his right hand. "Jesus, Harry. You're hurt."

"I'll live." He found his tobacco tin and took it out, then looked at his bloody hand. "Do me a favour, Donna. Roll me a fag."

Donna shook her head, but took the tin and proceeded to roll him a cigarette.

"What the fuck happened, Harry?" Rankin said. "Is that a bullet wound?"

Edger nodded. "We had unexpected visitors at the farm."

"Jesus. How many?"

"Three."

Rankin shook his head. "Who were they? You're brother's lot? I thought he was doing all this alone."

"He was," Edger said, looking over at his daughter while Rankin's sister, the nurse, checked her over.

She'll never be the same again.

"Where is your brother?" Rankin asked.

Donna handed Edger his cigarette and lit it for him. "Declan's dead," he said.

Rankin and Donna exchanged glances. "I'm sorry, Harry," Donna said.

"So am I," Edger said, blowing a plume of smoke into the room, before closing his eyes for a second, the image of his brother's head exploding still fresh in his mind.

Another death witnessed to haunt my dreams at night.

"Did you find out why he did all this?" Rankin asked.

Edger nodded, but said nothing. Continued smoking his cigarette while staring blankly at nothing.

"Let's get that bullet wound seen to before you bleed all over my fucking office, Harry," Rankin joked. "These carpet tiles cost me a fortune, you know."