Just Another Day - Clark Steven - Страница 48

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It didn’t matter how much Johnson squeezed; with his knuckle wedged in hard between the triggers and the guard, Dave was preventing the firing pin from being activated. Somewhere in his mind, the pressure on his skin and bone was immense. He didn’t feel it. His senses had been numbed to the pain during the last twelve hours. He would take whatever pain there was. He wasn’t going to die. This bastard was not going to deprive his family of a husband and father.

‘Big mistake you arsehole’ he said, ‘should have taken the trigger guard off when you shortened the barrels. Not such a clever bastard now eh.’

With that, he brought his knee up hard, as hard as he could, and he felt the bone of his kneecap make contact with the soft tissue of his adversary’s balls. Johnson screamed with pain and slumped to the ground on his knees pulling Dave down with him as he hung on to the shotgun. He gasped across at his younger brother,

‘kill him, stick him Tony.’

Tony was stood alongside John Walsh with the knife in his right hand. He had been transfixed by the events of the last few moments. He had watched in disbelief as the battered and broken policeman had wedged his hand behind the triggers and saw the facial expressions of his brother change dramatically from murderous evil to bewilderment and pain as he watched Dave’s knee strike his brothers’ balls with force.

It seemed like minutes but it was only seconds as he saw his brother on the ground, still desperately holding the triggers of the shotgun, imploring him to stab the young officer.

Dave and Tony each looked in the others eyes; they were stood no more than ten or twelve feet apart. John began to speak, but it was Dave who took charge and cut across his words. Now it was Dave who was calm. Now it was Dave doing the negotiating.

‘What’s it to be Tony. You can kill us both. I can’t move, your brother can’t pull the trigger and John is tied to the post. It’s up to you. You can be like your brother, a cold calculating murderer or you can walk away.’

‘Do it Tony, kill this piece of shite and we can both get away. I’ll do him,’ nodding towards John, ‘stick this twat and we can be on our way. Come on little brother. You can do it’.

‘He’s right Tony. You’re the man now. Everything that happens now is down to you. If you want to be like your brother, then kill us both now.’

‘I can’t do it Luke. I told you when you killed that poor old bastard with his lorry, I’m not like you, Cold blood is you; it isn’t me. You’re my brother and I love you, but I can’t be part of this fucking madness any more. It’s over Luke.’

He turned away towards the small wicket gate. He still had the knife in his hand. He couldn’t look at his brother any more. He needed to get out of the yard and run. Take their old van outside and just disappear. Go somewhere, anywhere.

‘You spineless little bastard. I’ll tell you when its over. Don’t you dare run out on me. I’ll kill you. D’you hear me, I’ll fuckin hunt you down; brother or no brother and cut your fuckin heart out. I’ll find you wherever you are and I’ll kill you.’

Tony stopped in mid stride; he turned and ran at Luke. His eyes were wild and his own heart was thumping.

‘Why can’t you leave it alone; why can’t you keep your fucking mouth shut’. His fists were clenched hard and his eyes fogged over in exactly the same way as when he had glassed the punter in the pub all those years before. The heat of the moment took over once more and his anger and violence bubbled to the surface. He punched Luke twice in the right side of his chest as hard as he could. He hoped he had broken a couple of ribs, he wanted to give back some of the pain that his brother had inflicted on him over the years and the two violent blows caused Luke to cry out. He took a step back. Luke wasn’t just winded. His shirt was quickly changing colour as the bright red stain spread quickly. Tony looked down and saw the blood dripping off the end of the ten inch carving knife. He stared in horror, first at the knife, then at the frothy red blood seeping, dripping onto the concrete floor in a rapidly expanding pool. Because of the red mist, he hadn’t even realised; he was still holding the knife when he punched him.

With each punch, he had unwittingly buried the knife to its hilt. Ten inches of steel had violently pierced the lungs and heart of his older brother and Luke was only seconds from death. There was no way back from such an injury. Even if one had been stood alongside him, no Doctor could save his big brother.

It was as though the knife handle had suddenly become red hot, Luke dropped, almost threw the knife away as he realised what he had done. He knelt alongside his fatally wounded brother who was smiling, grimacing back at him.

‘Told you you could do it you little tw....’ the words trailed away as he died in Tony’s arms.

The knife had spun away along the ground towards the post where John was tethered. He managed to kick it with his foot and bring it closer. Tony was not aware what was happening around him as he continued to cradle his dead brother in his arms.

John quickly and quietly slid his plastic manacles down the post until he was sitting down and hooked the heel of his foot under the knife and in an awkward manner, grabbed the knife between his hands. The sharp blade cut through the plastic with no effort. He stood up and with the bloody blade in his hand, walked over to Tony.

‘Leave him be Tony, you can’t do anything for him now.’ John’s voice was soft; he was back in his role as hostage negotiator once more.

Tony’s anger was spent once more. He had just killed his brother and now, he just wanted to die himself. He stood up to face John.

‘I didn’t mean to kill him Mr Walsh. He did deserve to die for what he has done; we both know how evil he was, but I didn’t mean it, you must believe that.’

‘I saw exactly what happened Tony, Dave saw what happened. We both know you are not a calculating killer. This is over now; sit down until we get sorted out here.’

‘Do it Mr Walsh.’ The words took John by surprise.

‘Come on Mr Walsh, do it. You’ve got the knife, I won’t resist you. One quick stab, that’s all it will need. Let me go with him.’

He looked down at his brother lying in the pool of blood; lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. He walked closer to John, arms by his side.

John, who seconds before had been holding the knife in a defensive, almost threatening manner towards young Johnson fearing that he might try to attack Dave and himself now realised that far from them being assaulted, Tony wanted to be attacked himself. He could not bear the thought of being responsible for the death of his older brother.

‘You know I won’t do that Tony. You couldn’t kill any one in cold blood. You know I can’t do that either. You’ve got two options here son. Sit down and wait for the arrival of the other officers or leave now. We’re both too weak to fight with you. We all know what went on here and you didn’t kill him intentionally. We will both testify to that.’

‘Thank you Mr Walsh but we both know; I can’t stay here.’

He quickly spun on his heels, grabbed the BMW keys off the table in the office and kicked open the wicket gate leaving it swinging wildly on its hinges. Both Dave and John heard the spinning, screeching tyres on the damp cobbles as tony floored the accelerator and hurtled up the road.

There was no sound for several seconds as both officers realised that their ordeal had finally come to an end. It was Dave who spoke first.

‘For Christ’s sake John, please be very careful when taking this noose off my neck. I’d hate to have survived all this shit only for you to blow my fucking head off.’

Dave was trying to twist away from the open eyes of his would be assassin. The lifeless, soulless gaze unnerved him as John slowly walked towards them.

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