Dead Pretty (20 page)

The shotgun fired but it did not hit him. It did not hit anything, apart from sky. The Mercedes spun out on to the road, as an older one smashed into it.

Chapter Twelve

The old Merc was travelling fast. It slammed into the new one, pushing it down the road, until both cars crashed into the wall at the end of the churchyard. Carl's blew up. A fireball that engulfed both cars. Two smashed lumps of metal locked together like lovers started to burn. Mark saw the big man desperately try to smash the front screen before his face was lost in flame, and there were further explosions as ammunition went off. Angelo's side of the car was badly mashed and there was no movement at all there. Mark couldn't see Carl but he heard someone call out. He turned to see Carl fifty yards up the road, crawling along the grass verge, his head like a red rag. Mark ran to him, stuffing his gun back into a pocket. Other people were also running, from the pub further down; even at this range he could see the excitement in the face of the kid-barman, and he was followed by several others.

Mark pulled Carl into the trees, hoping that no one had seen them, and hoped that Julie would have the sense to keep out of sight. If she had any sense left at all, if he hadn't stripped the last of it from her.

Smoke from the cars plumed into the air. No one got too close but Mark saw the barman using his mobile, shouting into it desperately.

‘Are you all right?' Mark asked Carl. ‘Where the fuck did you come from, anyway? Christ, I thought you were dead.'

‘Never mind about me. Where's Julie? I could see she wasn't in the car, that's why I crashed the Merc into it. I just pointed it, revved it up and threw myself out the door. Couldn't think of nothing else to do.'

‘Nothing else was needed, mate. Julie's OK. She's in the graveyard.'

Carl sank further onto the ground.

‘Thank Christ,' he muttered, ‘thank Christ for that. We done it, Mark, we beat the bastards.'

‘Stay here, out of sight,' Mark said, ‘I'll go and get Julie.'

Carl looked bad, and didn't answer. Mark skirted the rear of the church, away from the burning cars and the action around them. Julie was still crouching by the grave of the teacher, shaking and moaning to herself. She seemed unable to move, but at least she was out of sight.

Mark shook her gently.

‘Mam, come on, we gotta get out of here, before we're seen.'

It took a few moments for Julie to recognise him, as her mind struggled to free itself from her waking nightmare.

‘Just leave me, Mark, I've had enough.'

‘Carl's here.'

‘Carl? He's dead.'

‘No, he's not, and he's just saved our lives. Come on, I'll carry you.'

It was easier this way. Mark bundled her into his arms, and made sure he kept the church between him and the action. He doubted if anyone had eyes for anything other than the burning cars. He trekked back to the wall and dropped Julie over the other side. They were in the trees with Carl in less than a minute, and as far as Mark could tell, no one had seen them. He looked back on the scene. The kid-barman had gone back to the pub for a small extinguisher, but it was useless. It was hard to distinguish two cars now, let alone anyone in them. Smoke had almost obliterated the church and the pub below, Mark looked down on a war zone. His war.

Maybe the fire would be bad enough to confuse the authorities for a while. They had no reason to expect anything, other than a terrible crash. Two cars, two bodies. The problems would start when they traced the Merc back to Carl, maybe they'd find the remains of a shotgun. There would be no information on the brothers or record of their car which would make the police suspicious, especially as all this had taken place on a quiet valley hillside, but it would all take time, time for all this to be over, as far as Mark was concerned. Creative thinking was not a police strongpoint, he'd learnt that in years of dealing with them, and they had no leads at all on this. He had to keep Carl and Julie out of it, now that they'd survived. Kill or be killed by Stellachi, that was Mark's aim now. Angelo had talked about the grapevine. It would be shaking itself apart in the next few days.

There was a mixture of old and new blood all over Carl. Old from the original head wound, new from the many cuts, bumps and bruises he'd taken when he'd hit the road. He's twenty years older than me, Mark thought, tough old sod.

‘Can you walk, Carl?' Mark asked.

‘Just let me get my breath for a bit,' Carl answered.

Julie was very quiet. She hugged the ground, shaking like the leaves around her. Mark thought it best to let her be for a while. He'd run out of any words that might help. He heard sirens coming up from the valley. A police car first, then a fire engine not far behind, and an ambulance behind that. The usual convoy of death. The hillside would be buzzing soon, not that anyone would be looking for an ex-con, his mother and her broken-up boyfriend.

‘Come on, let's move away,' Mark said. ‘I've got a sort of camp a bit further up.'

Carl was able to walk if Mark supported him, but life was draining from his face. It was the colour of a dirty cloud, speckled with dark red spots. An eye was closing and his shoulder looked busted. Mark held him up one side, Julie held on to the other.

They stood in the trees and watched the police pass. How many times had Mark ran from them in the old days, blue lights flashing in the night. Flashing for him. Dashing away from houses with his bag of goods, exhilarated, knowing that the black hillside would hide him, knowing that they never had a snowball's chance in hell of catching him. Until it all went sour and he let himself be taken. They reached the camp and Mark put Carl down as gently as he could.

‘Just want to sleep for a bit,' Carl murmured.

‘No, don't do that, mate. Try to stay awake.'

Julie knelt beside him, rocking back and forth on her heels.

‘You all right, Mam?'

Her eyes just looked over his shoulder. The rain was holding off, but the sun was gone and it was turning cold. A few days ago Mark had sweltered in London. He wondered if he could chance a fire. He doubted that smoke would be noticed, not with what was going on down by the church. Black smoke was still spiralling up in a black funnel. They'd have to separate what was left of the brothers from the metal. Two charcoal lumps to make a pathologist's Monday.

‘He's bad, Mark.'

Julie tidied Carl's hair with her hand.

‘You got any water here?' she asked.

‘There's a few bottles.'

Mark handed her one, and she took a tissue from her pocket, dampened it, and tried to clean Carl's face. Bits of it stuck to his bristles, and made him look worse than ever.

‘I'll make a small fire,' Mark said, ‘warm you and Carl up.'

‘Make a fire! Jesus, you're right back there, aren't you? Back to when you were a kid, always messing about up here, dodging, thieving, breaking my heart. Why did you come back, Mark? Bring all this down on us.'

‘I've been asking myself that, Mam. Because I know this place better than anywhere else, I s'pose, but you're right, I should have stayed away. Stayed away until it was all over.'

‘We gotta get Carl to hospital.'

‘I know, but we'll have to stay here for a while, until all the fuss dies down.'

‘He might be dead by then. Why shouldn't I walk back down there right now, tell the police everything? We'll be safe then.'

Mark couldn't think of a good reason that didn't involve saving his skin, prolonging things, and giving himself the chance to have a crack at Stellachi. Maybe he
should
phone the police right now, Julie and Carl would be out of it then. It would be an act that didn't involve putting himself first, rare, but something he had found himself able to do with Lena. Hesitantly at first, like a dog learning a new trick, then it became easier, even enjoyable. He started to grieve for her again. Suddenly the forestry was very calm, the sky cleared of smoke, and the hawk was out again. What a view it must have had of everything that had just gone on. Maybe the explosions had freaked small animals out into the open. Something always gains.

Mark had the mobile in his hands. Just press three numbers, and all this could be over. The police were only a stone's throw away. His fingers locked as different needs clashed inside him. Even if he made himself scarce when the police came, he'd have no chance of getting at Stellachi. He'd never be able to leave the country when the full story came out, and Stellachi wouldn't come to him. Not now. Mark wanted this man.
Psycho Eyes
hadn't changed that much. Revenge was the only way out of this, revenge for Lena, Kelly, Julie and Carl. Angelo and his brother had died hard, but Mark didn't feel any sense of retribution, not yet.

‘Carl's awful cold, Mark,' Julie said.

‘Probably going into shock,' Mark muttered. ‘He saved us, Mam. We were going down until he appeared. It's funny, but that's the first time any man has ever helped you, isn't it? Or me, for that matter.'

‘It would have been better if he'd never met me. How can everything turn to shit so quickly? I thought I was getting somewhere, maybe twenty years too late, but he gave me a bit of hope. I thought you were getting somewhere too, Mark.'

‘I was. We both thought we'd found something.'

‘Aye, then you done a Richards on it. Blew everything apart. I can hardly take it all in.'

She doesn't even know about Kelly, Mark thought, or Tony. They would be the last straw. He put the phone away but made an instant decision.

‘Phone the police, Mam, if you want. Get yourself out of this. You've done nothing, and no one going to blame Carl for doing what he did, not if it comes out straight. It'll be me they want.'

‘I dunno. My head's shot, but we have to get help for Carl.'

Julie shook Carl gently by the shoulder. ‘Don' go to sleep, babes.'

Carl moaned and roused himself. ‘I'm bloody cold,' he murmured. His eyes focused on Mark. ‘Not bad for an old man, eh?'

Mark knelt beside him and kept his voice to a whisper. Not that Julie was listening, she had drawn into herself again, hugging her small body tightly.

‘No, not bad.'

‘Are they dead?'

‘Very.'

‘Feels like I've busted a few ribs. That's okay, I've broken them before, and it takes the pain away from my head. And my fuckin' shoulder.'

‘Do you think you can walk?'

‘Maybe, but not far.'

‘Do you want me to phone for help? Get you and Mam out of it? I've got you bad hurt, almost killed the pair of you.'

‘It should have been all right. Those bastards got down here so quick.'

‘Aye, but they're out of the frame now, and you and Julie, I think. I hope. They'll still want me, but I'll go to them now. Take it away from here. This Stellachi is in Amsterdam. I'll find him. He'll want me to.'

‘What chance will you have then?'

‘What chance did I have half an hour ago? I've got this notebook I took from Angelo. Looks like it's full of names, numbers, stuff in English, and mumbo-jumbo, Albanian probably. It might be useful.'

‘Julie looks out of it,' Carl said. ‘Poor kid.'

‘You haven't answered my question.'

‘Eh?'

‘'Bout phoning the police.'

‘Nah. Unless your mother wants to. We've come this far. What I do want you to do is to get me to hospital. I'll tell them I fell down the stairs. Always useful for people who've had a good kicking.'

‘I could call an ambulance.'

‘Look, I've had a thump on the head but my brain's not addled. Not yet. How the fuck could we explain being up here with no bloody car? And it's too close to what's just gone down. No. Get a car from somewhere and drive us down to my local hospital. I'll take it from there.'

‘I don't know if Mam will hack that. What about the Merc, anyway? They'll trace it to you.'

‘I'll say it was nicked last night. Didn't know for a while because I've fallen down the stairs and knocked myself out, haven't I? It might work. I've got no record, why should the police ever know what's gone on? They might be suspicious, sure, but come on, gunfights, Albanians, none of it sounds real, does it? Julie will be all right, she'll have to be. We all need time for this to settle. It's been a hell of a fucking day, kid.'

‘Amen to that. Stay here, then.'

‘I wasn't about to take the scenic tour.'

Mark got some spare clothing from his shelter. ‘Wrap up with these. You too, Mam.'

Mark turned to his mother. ‘Look, Mam, I'm going to get a car. Stay here with Carl. You got to keep him awake. Don't let him drift off. He might not come back.'

Julie looked at him like Mark was a stranger. He could still see the young girl in her face, a glimpse of the past, but layered with the worry of the last twenty years. She was quite lined now, and he'd put most of them there. Mark pressed her shoulder gently with his hand.

‘Mam, I'll keep my mobile on.'

She barely acknowledged him but Carl managed to clench his teeth into a smile.

‘Mark, just like an outlaw bunch, ain' we?'

‘Aye, just like.'

Mark cut through the forestry, keeping away from the mountain road. He saw more police and ambulances speeding up the hillside, it wouldn't be much longer before the news-boys got on the scene. They'd have the scoop of their lives if any of this came out. For a mad moment he wondered how much he'd get if he sold the story. Enough to set Julie up for a few years at least. It would be tabloid heaven. Then he thought of that Portland prison, looking through the bars in those poxy dormitories, trying to get a glimpse of the sea, trying to guess what the day was like by smelling the air. Dealing with his fellow inmates, beauts, one and all. No, he'd rather put a bullet in his brain, if it came down to it.

It took him twenty minutes to get clear of the trees. He was on the edge of the old place, but amongst new private housing. There were plenty of cars about, but he took a van. It might be better to put Carl in the back, out of sight. Taking cars had never been his thing, he hadn't learned to drive until well into his twenties, but Kelly had given him a crash course a few years ago. It was easy, just a quick rearrangement of wires, a child could do it. They did.