Topspin (36 page)

“Jack, Jack, get a grip, mate.”

Cyril’s voice was slow to penetrate Jack’s brain. With a monumental effort he pushed the image of his son’s wan face to the back of his mind and focused on the more pressing need to rescue him.

“It looks as if they’re staying downstairs,” he said, “because we know the boy, and presumably Tania, are in the front room. What we don’t know is where Kevin and Wilf are, but there aren’t any lights on upstairs. Even they wouldn’t be stupid enough to give their hostages the run of the ground floor while they were asleep upstairs.”

“Unless they’re taking it in turns to watch them?” Cyril said. “One could be kipping and one staying alert.”

“I can’t help wondering how they got into the house in the first place,” Jack said.

“What do you mean?” Pete asked.

“Well, I don’t suppose they have a key, and they could hardly force the front door without drawing attention to themselves, so—”

“So they must have gone round the back way,” Cyril said.

“Yeah, presumably there’s a path or something along the back of the houses and a gate into the garden. They could hardly climb fences with reluctant hostages in tow.”

Tyson’s meaty paw was already on the door handle. “I’ll find out,” he said.

Unlikely though it seemed, Tyson was the right man for that particular job. Surprisingly light on his feet for such a big man, he possessed the ability to steal up on people without their being aware of it. Jack and Cyril watched him slip round the side of the last house in the terrace, as stealthy as an over-sized cat, and disappear behind it. There was only a sliver of moon and a few dim streetlights supplying illumination in this quiet residential street, but that wouldn’t impede Tyson. He could see further in the dark than most people managed in broad daylight.

The waiting time was short and Tyson returned after just a few minutes, entering the car as quietly as he’d left it.

“Christ, Tyson, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Pete said, clutching his chest. “I didn’t hear you coming back.”

“That’s the whole idea, wanker.” Cyril glanced at Tyson. “What’s happening?”

“There’s a path along the back of the gardens.”

“Thought there would be. That’ll be our way in, then.”

“Yeah, they’re in the kitchen, round the back.”

“What are they doing?”

“Smoking, drinking, and playing cards.”

“And Tania and the boy?”

“Didn’t see them. Must be in the front room.”

“Can we surprise them if we go round the back?” Jack asked.

“Nah, can’t get at them without being seen. Not unless the door’s unlocked.”

“Unlikely,” Cyril conceded.

“We could go in through the front door, but we wouldn’t be able to do it quietly, and they’d have loads of time to get to Tania and the boy,” Jack said.

Cyril dismissed the idea with a flap of his hand. “That’s out, then.”

“Yeah, but there might be another way.”

“How?” asked Cyril and Tyson together.

“The power.”

“What about it?”

“If we could get to the fuse box—”

“Where are the fuse boxes in these gaffs?” Cyril asked.

“Usually in the hall.”

“The kitchen door was open,” Tyson said. “I could see straight down the hall to the front door. There was a closed door on the left, which must be to the living room where Tania and Dimitri are.”

Cyril nodded. “Okay, you think we should cut the power, Jack, and while they’re fumbling around putting it back on we break in the back way and take them by surprise?”

“Yeah, it’s risky, though, because if they’re in the hall they’ll be closer to Tania and Dimitri than we will.”

“True,” Cyril said, “but at least we’ll have the element of surprise on our side.”

“We’ll need it, because it won’t take them long to get their act together.”

“Will they think of Tania, or instinctively take us on?” Cyril asked.

“Let’s hope it’s the latter.” Jack grimaced. “We’ll have to make the most of the few seconds of confusion we create, because even if they can’t get the power back on, they’re bound to have a torch handy.”

“Have we got one?” Pete asked.

“Yeah.” Jack delved into the glove compartment again and produced a heavy duty flashlight. “Some habits die hard.”

“The only question is, Jack, how do we cut the power?” Cyril asked. “They don’t have overhead cables any more, that would be too fucking obliging, and we’ve already decided we can’t get into the house undetected.”

“That’s the obvious flaw in the plan that I haven’t got my head round yet.”

“There’s one window on the first floor round the back that’s open,” Tyson said. “It’s like, small, but there’s a flat-roofed single story extension—”

“Probably a cloakroom,” Pete said.

Jack perked up. “Easy to reach from the garden?”

“Yeah, if someone got up on that roof they could put a hand through the opening, reach the bigger window beneath it and get it open. I think it’s probably a bathroom because it’s got frosted glass.” This was a marathon speech for Tyson, and he abruptly fell silent, only to speak again almost immediately. “You’d need to be a midget to get through it and into the house, though, even if we could get the bigger window open.”

“Even if I was small enough, my days of bunking through windows are long over,” Cyril said.

“Yeah. Shit!” Jack rubbed his eyes, his brief feelings of optimism fading. “It was a stupid plan anyway,” he said.

They sat in silence for a minute or two, pondering other possibilities. And then he and Cyril smiled at one another and simultaneously turned to stare at Pete.

“I’m up for it,” he said without hesitation.

“I’ll help you get up on that roof and get the window open for you,” Jack said. “But then you’re going to have to creep down the stairs without them hearing you. Fortunately the stairs’ll probably be carpeted, so that should muffle a lot of sound. Keep to the outside of the steps because it’s usually the well-worn bits in the middle that creak.”

“Yeah, okay.” Pete sounded commendably calm.

“You’ll have to find the fuse box without them seeing you through the open kitchen door, and then trip the main switch.” Putting the plan into words highlighted all the pitfalls, and Jack felt the adrenalin that had briefly flowed through him rapidly seeping away. The possibilities for failure were spectacular, and it didn’t seem fair to ask Pete to put his life on the line when it wasn’t his fight. Technically, Jack hadn’t asked, Pete had volunteered, but still…

“I dunno,” Jack said, shaking his head, “there are too many imponderables. I can’t see it working.”

“It’ll work.” Pete clearly intended to grasp the opportunity to redeem himself.

“They’re bound to be tooled up, Pete. It’s a hell of a risk, mate. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah, Jack, don’t sweat it.”

“Are you carrying, Jack?” Cyril asked.

“I left all that behind me in London.”

“Pity. Still, never mind.” Cyril and Tyson both patted their weapons.

“Couldn’t we just shoot them through the kitchen window, boss?” Tyson asked.

“Nah, there are people in several of these houses. We’d never get Tania and Dimitri away before some nosy sod called the law. We need to avoid shooting if we possibly can.”

“I’ve always liked Tania,” Pete said, “and feel guilty for what I’ve put her through.”

“Yeah.” Cyril glowered at him, but a lot of the menace had gone out of his expression. “Pity you didn’t think about that before you shot yer mouth off.”

“Besides,” Pete added, “we can’t let Kevin get away with this. It’s bang out of order. If they get me, Jack, just do me a favor and make sure you get them.”

“On that you have my solemn word.” Jack’s tone was glacial. “As soon as you flip that switch, don’t hang about, just dive for whatever cover you can find. In the confusion they won’t know you’re there immediately, unless they see you when you come down the stairs into the hall, of course. That’s the tricky bit.”

Cyril looked at his watch. “It’s gone midnight now. Let’s give it another hour. If they’ve been drinking at Tania’s place and carried on pissing it up when they got here, they’re bound to get sloppy. They’ll probably drop off in the kitchen and that’ll give Pete a better chance.”

“If that happens, perhaps we can sneak in through the back door and overpower them.”

“They’re hardly likely to have left it open.”

Jack listened to the speculation flying back and forth with half an ear, hating the delay. He didn’t want to wait another second, but knew Cyril was right and forced himself to exercise patience. He’d be no good to anyone, especially not his son, if he didn’t remain detached. Each second that passed seemed more like an hour, but Jack forced himself to believe Tania and Dimitri were in no immediate danger. He used the time to review their plan, going over it in his mind time and again in case they’d overlooked anything obvious. Other than the fact that the odds were heavily stacked against them, of course, and that far from saving Tania and Dimitri their actions could very likely get them all killed.

Jack countered his doubts by thinking about his son, about how frightened he must be, and fresh determination coursed through him. He took a series of deep breaths and cleared his mind of all superfluous thoughts, grateful for the sense of calm that steadied his nerves as he settled down to wait, single-minded in his resolve to save his son.

And Tania too, of course.

Tania! If all went according to plan, he would see her within the hour, would speak to her for the first time in over six years. The thought unnerved him. He had no idea what her reaction to him would be, how she would respond to having been kidnapped and manhandled by two thugs who were using her and Dimitri as a means to get to him.

Jack and Cyril passed the time by making desultory conversation about the old days, Cyril complaining about the changes that had taken place since Jack had got out. Pete didn’t say a word, and Tyson, when called upon to back up Cyril’s stories, merely grunted and continued to crack his knuckles.

Just when Jack thought he couldn’t stand the waiting any longer, Cyril decreed it was time. They stepped out of the car, closing the doors behind them without making a sound. All four then turned their backs to the vehicle, faced the park, and urinated. Having the distraction of full bladders while facing down armed thugs wasn’t the sort of mistake hardened professionals made.

They crossed the road as quietly as they’d left the car, keeping to the shadows just in case anyone was watching from inside, and slipped round the side of the end house. Tyson shoved the garden gate open and it squeaked loudly on hinges that obviously hadn’t done much work recently. They paused, but when no one reacted to the sound Jack breathed a little more freely.

Cyril led the way and positioned himself beneath the kitchen window, peering cautiously over the sill. He indicated a sleeping position with his hands, the sound of rhythmic snoring emanating from the kitchen confirming that both men were sound asleep. Tyson lent his shoulders for Pete to stand on, from where he was able to haul himself onto the flat roof. Jack, glad to be in action after so much hanging around, swung up there under his own steam, hardly making a sound.

It proved impossible to reach inside the open window. The gap was too small even for Pete’s skinny arm. Jack had anticipated that possibility, but had more trouble than he’d anticipated forcing the main window open. He hadn’t done this sort of thing for years, not since Cyril had rescued him from the streets, in fact, and it seemed at first as though he’d lost the knack. A combination of tension and impatience made him clumsy and twice he dropped the screwdriver he’d procured from the tool kit in his car, which meant wasting valuable time scrabbling around in the dark until he retrieved it. Every tiny creak sounded like a thunderclap to Jack’s ears. Surely they’d be able to hear the noise he was making inside the house, even if they were asleep.

But no one came to investigate, and after five minutes of persistence he was rewarded when the window finally swung open. He patted Pete’s shoulder, wordlessly wishing him luck, and boosted him through the small opening. After that he lost no time in swinging off the roof and joining the others.

Which was when things started to go wrong. A loud crash came from upstairs and all three men crouching beneath the kitchen window tensed. Jack reckoned Pete must have knocked something off the window ledge into the bathtub. The noise was bound to penetrate Kevin and Wilf’s drink-induced stupors. All Jack could do was hope that Pete had the presence of mind to close the window and find somewhere to hide before they came to investigate.

“What was that?” they heard Kevin say. “Did you hear something?”

“Dunno. Might have been the woman.”

“I thought it came from upstairs.”

“Can’t have done. It’s locked up tight as a drum up there.” They heard Wilf lumber to his feet. “I’ll check on the woman, just to be sure.”

Jack peered over the sill and was relieved to see that Kevin made no move for the stairs. He could hear springs creaking as he fidgeted in his chair, belching and grumbling to himself. Wilf returned a short time later and said that the woman and boy were both sound asleep.