Just Another Day - Clark Steven - Страница 47

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He would force him to watch as Dave’s head was torn apart. He wasn’t happy enough to just pull the trigger while the shotgun was horizontal. He had dropped the butt of the gun until the barrel was facing upwards, almost vertical. Dave’s head wouldn’t just be taken cleanly off; it would be blasted to pieces. He instantly visualised the bloody mucus and torn off face of the young bank robber of many years before and his knees began to shake. Even the cold night air wasn’t enough to stop him sweating.

But not yet, time yet for a little more taunting.

‘Come here you little arsehole, take hold of this while I have a piss.’

Tony, now that his captive was firmly secured, put the knife in his waistband and moved over to Dave. He took hold of the shotgun while his brother walked away to the back of the office area.

‘Which one do you fancy’ he said as he strolled away, ‘the knife or the gun, go on, I’ll let you pick. Have a think about it for a few minutes.’ The echo of the footsteps disappeared.

‘Tony’,

the quiet voice from the post took him by surprise and he turned quickly almost pulling Dave over. John used his experience and instincts gathered over many years in making what he thought was a quick assessment of the younger brother. Of course Tony was a vicious bastard, but he was a spur of the moment vicious bastard. John didn’t believe that he was cold and calculating in the same manner as his psychopathic brother.

‘Tony, you’re not your brother. I know you are a violent man, but you have always done things in the heat of the moment, you’re not a cold blooded killer. Don’t do this, walk away. Don’t let him completely ruin your life. At the moment, you’ll do ten to fifteen. If you go through with this and kill two police officers in cold blood, you’ll die in prison like Luke.’

John knew that young Johnson was having doubts about going through with the double murder. He was shaking his head, looking at the bloodied and battered policeman tied to the end of his shotgun, back across to John tethered to the post with his plastic handcuffs. Looking up to the sky and back to the floor in equal measures, muttering to himself,

‘I fucking told Luke before, I’d never do this again, no fuckin way; not cold blooded murder, it’s not right, not fuckin right. Why don’t we just run now while we’ve got the chance?’

He heard the soft whistling of his brother walking back along the passageway from the toilets at the back of the office.

‘Now then sunshine, which one do you fancy, knife? Shotgun, shotgun, knife? C’mon our kid, you choose.’

‘I can’t do this Luke, you take the gun, I can’t blow someones fuckin head off for no reason at all. We’ll both die in prison if we go through with this. Let’s just tie them both up and leave them here. We’ve got time to get away. We can take the BMW and dump it somewhere and pick up another motor.’

‘You don’t get it do you Tony. I know we could fuck off now and be on the run for a while. That’s not the point. We haven’t got any fuckin money because of this twat.’ He pushed the shotgun deeper into Dave’s neck as he lifted the barrel further into the air forcing him almost onto his toes. Dave could see the veins standing out in Johnson’s neck and his eyes widening and starting to cloud over.

‘How long d’you think we’d last out there with fuck all you stupid little bastard. We’ll both go to prison sooner or later. But, and this is the important bit for both of us Tony, they’ll love us in there. Don’t you see, we’ll get looked after in there for ever kid. We’ll be the brothers who blew the head off one copper and cut the fuckin heart out of the other. We’ll be fuckin heroes brother, absolute fuckin heroes.’

There was a wildness in Luke that even his younger brother had not seen before. Having been around him all his life, he thought he had seen the worst that he could offer. The evil in his eyes was enough to see when he watched Terry Penrose being slowly crushed to death by his own wagon. He’d nearly wet himself with excitement; but that, that was nothing to what he was witnessing now.

Dave was clutching at the barrel with his right hand in a hopeless, futile act of trying to pull the gun away, his left hand was completely useless and as his heartbeat began to race and pump harder, the blood from his broken and shattered knuckle began to flow once more. He knew he was seconds from death.

Tony was horrified by his brothers’ violence, he backed away from him. He had been right earlier when he had called him ‘mad’. He finally understood; his brother was the devil. He was everything that was unspeakably evil in the world. He believed now that he would die as well. His older brother, who he loved and hated in equal measures, would kill him if he did not carry out his part of the plan. Luke was going to blow the young coppers head off come what may. Tony for his part, had to kill the older police man with the knife if he didn’t, Luke would kill him as well. He looked backwards and forwards, at the handcuffed policeman and his brother.

‘Do it you little shit, don’t think. I’ve fuckin told you before, don’t ever think about it, just fuckin do it.’

The mucus and snot; the white flecks of spit, were spraying all over Dave’s face as his murderer screamed at his young brother and he watched as Tony staggered over towards the killing post. Dave looked into Johnsons eyes for the last time as his ‘good’ hand slid along the twin barrels in a last attempt to pull the gun away from his neck.

He didn’t know where it came from but, he had a moment of absolute crystal clarity. He would die in the next second; he had accepted death; was ready for it and he saw his beautiful wife and two children all dressed in black stood above him as he was lowered into the ground. All his colleagues dressed in their number one uniforms, white gloves and salutes. The police horses all decked out in their ceremonial gleaming leather harnesses and polished brasses. The Police band and its sombre, mournful tunes. He could feel himself drifting above them now, what a wonderful sight. Hundreds of people; friends, family, strangers. All there for him.

Don’t cry my loves, you look as gorgeous as ever my Mandy, I always loved you in black, and you two little cherubs look after your mum, she’ll need you more than ever now. I’ll be there, I’ll be watching over you until we’re all together again. Don’t cry, please don’t cry. I can’t stand to watch you all crying, Bob, look after Mandy and the kids. Bob, don’t you cry as well, they need you, be strong, Please Bob, be the strong sergeant I’ve always admired, be strong for me.

He stopped going up, he was hovering now, they were all looking up at him, could they see him? This wasn’t supposed to happen. He should be able to see them, but they shouldn’t be able to see him, what’s wrong, he was slowly falling back to earth. He was going back into the grave. The blackness was lifting; there was some brightness from somewhere. He was looking up at the bright light in the sky? The bright light, the bare light bulb without the shade. He was still in the yard.

He looked along the barrel to the eyes staring back at him. His hand slid off the cold steel of the twin tubes. Dave had a calmness about him that he had not felt for some considerable time. He was energised with a power that he did not understand. Johnson had his forefinger on the twin triggers and slowly began to squeeze. Almost in slow motion, Dave lifted his hand and pressed his right thumb, right up to the knuckle of his hand in between the back of the two triggers and the metal of the trigger guard. Johnson began to exert more pressure, the two triggers pressed against the skin and knuckle bone of Dave’s hand. Johnson squeezed harder, the pressure on his hand increased, the triggers wouldn’t move back any further. The look in Johnson’s eyes began to change; the glassiness was replaced by a look of puzzlement, the lips changed from an evil smile to an open mouth.

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