No Sleep for the Dead

Chapter 22

‘Who else is here? Tell me right now!’ The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth in a rush as he drove her away from the door, the gun barrel level with her face. His eyes had a wild, intense look, as if he had been winding himself up into a state of readiness before coming up here. ‘Don’t shit with me, you hear!’

Stunned by seeing the gun, Riley back-pedalled until she felt the sofa behind her legs, barely managing to prevent herself from falling. Whatever else you do, she told herself frantically, stay on your feet.

‘There’s no-one here,’ she replied. ‘Just me. What do you want?’

Szulu reached out and grabbed her shoulder with his free hand, looking around the room and pulling her close, then swinging her in front of him like a shield. When he seemed satisfied that nobody was going to jump on him, he let her go and shoved her away. He continued to wave the pistol, though, nodding to himself and pacing about, his breath whistling between his teeth.

‘You Riley Gavin, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. You listen, you hear? That’s all you got to do and you won’t get hurt. I got a message for you. You and the ex-cop — what’s his name — Palmer? Yeah, him. Where is he, by the way?’ He glanced around as if expecting Palmer to materialise from nowhere.

‘He’s working,’ said Riley, eyeing the gun. Instinct told her that if Szulu had come here to shoot her, he would have done it by now and be gone. But she wasn’t about to take any chances. She looked around for a weapon — anything — but couldn’t see anything even remotely useful against an armed man. Damn. So much for tidying up. Why couldn’t she have the odd baseball bat lying around? She edged towards the door, which was still open from when he’d charged into the flat. She was surprised she could think so clearly, even though he was here, right in front of her, especially after the other evening. She instinctively grabbed her laptop, the repository of all her work. If she could get close enough, she could be through and downstairs. Providing he wasn’t much of a shot, she might be able to get out into the street and yell for help.

‘Wait!’ He lunged forward, raising the gun. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s my laptop, you moron,’ she retorted, anger giving her words added venom. ‘You’re not having this, gun or no gun. It cost me too much.’

Szulu pulled an incredulous face. ‘You what? You think I’ve come here to steal your precious laptop? Where the fuck you get that idea? You think I’m some cheap crack-head?’ He blew out a mouthful of air, hugely indignant. ‘Cheeky bitch!’

A sound came from the kitchen, and Szulu spun round, dragging the gun with him. ‘Who’s that? Come out here!’

The cat edged past the door frame and looked at him. Instantly sensing danger, it arched its back and bared its teeth, hissing at Szulu like a high-pressure steam valve. Szulu lowered the gun to cover the perceived threat, his finger tightening involuntarily on the trigger. There was a loud click and he swore angrily and stared at the gun in dismay. ‘Shit!’

‘No!’ Horrified at the idea that he would shoot the cat — even by reflex — Riley hurled the laptop with all her strength, aiming for Szulu’s face. It connected to the side of his head with a sickening smack before tumbling to the floor with a crash. Momentarily stunned, Szulu let go of the gun. It landed on the tip of the barrel, spun in the air, then hit the floor again and skittered towards Riley, ending up at her feet. Szulu, clutching his face and cursing, seemed to have temporarily forgotten the weapon, and blundered about the room, disorientated.

Fuelled by a mixture of fury and fear on behalf of the cat, which had disappeared back into the kitchen, Riley scooped up the gun in one smooth movement. Coming up to a half crouch, she steadied her knees the way she had seen on television and cupped her right hand with her left, supporting the weight of the gun. She was surprised by how light it was, and how warm to the touch after Szulu’s hand.

She lifted the gun and peered down the short barrel at Szulu’s face, now turned towards her with a growing expression of horror. If she hadn’t been so scared, it would have been comic. He raised one hand and shook it frantically at her, palm outward to ward off the inevitable.

‘No, lady — don’t do that!’

‘Why not?’ Riley felt a sudden release of anger. A part of her brain wanted to give way to logic and reason, and listen to the tiny echo that was Palmer’s voice, telling her why shooting someone was such a bad thing, why it was easy to do yet so hard to live with. But a greater part wanted to feel the trigger move beneath the deliberate pressure of her finger, wanted to feel the recoil and see the barrel jump, and witness the man in front of her realise that he had taken a step too far and with the wrong person; that there were consequences to forcing your way into someone’s home and threatening them. She felt the pressure give way as the trigger moved. God, it was going to be so easy…

Then Szulu’s face changed and his eyes shifted to a point just over her shoulder. A scuff of movement came from behind her and a powerful hand moved past her shoulder, clamping down on hers and gently but firmly forcing the gun away until it was pointing at the floor.

‘Easy does it.’ It was John Mitcheson, the familiar smell of him suddenly close by, his presence enveloping her like a soft, warm blanket. She allowed him to take the gun away, and felt herself moved gently aside until he was standing in front of Szulu, the gun by his side. He looked tanned and fit, taller than Szulu by a few inches, dominating the room without trying.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Szulu demanded indignantly. ‘Did you see that? The bitch was going to shoot me!’ He pointed a trembling finger at Riley, apparently forgetting that he had been the first to pull the trigger after bursting in uninvited.

‘Really?’ Mitcheson looked down at the gun. ‘Funny. I thought I heard it misfire.’

‘Yeah. Piece of junk — I should get my money back!’ Szulu edged backwards, eyes searching for an escape route now things had gone so badly wrong.

Mitcheson looked up and stopped him with a warning shake of his head, then worked the slide on the gun with an expert hand. The unused shell spun through the air and landed with barely a noise on the carpet. ‘Semi-automatics, you see,’ he said in a conversational tone. ‘They do have a tendency to jam sometimes. You just have to be quick to clear them, that’s all. Especially if you’re facing a live threat.’ He looked at Szulu as if to check that he was paying attention. ‘The second round usually works fine, though, if you’re lucky. Like this.’

He calmly pointed the gun at Szulu and shot him.